SAPR: Interlude 2 - Vale

[ScipioSmith]

The Silver Swan​

Although it was still late summer, and fall had not yet crept upon the world, nevertheless, the air was chill and crisp as everyone waited outside the funeral parlour.

It was probably appropriate.

Everyone – everyone bar the Atlas Academy students, Sunset should say; they wore their uniforms – wore black, or something close to it, although it had clearly been a bit of a scramble for some to find something black – or dark grey – that they could wear.

Pyrrha, as it turned out, had a mourning dress, with a high collar that concealed her entire neck, little lace cuffs at the ends of her long sleeves, and an A-line skirt that went down to her ankles, revealing only the black, high-heeled shoes upon her feet. Her face was covered by a black veil, thin enough that it didn't hide her face completely but thick enough that it did distort the sight of it. She had foregone her usual striking wings of eyeshadow, as well as any other makeup or lipstick that she was sometimes wont to use to enhance her beauty. Only the smell of her hair remained, from the expensive shampoo that she had not replaced just for this one day.

Sunset was, she confessed, a little disconcerted by the fact that Pyrrha had a mourning dress… but at the same time, in light of the present circumstances, it now seemed a very prudent thing to have in her possession. Sunset wished that she had one.

As it stood, she was wearing a plain black top beneath her leather jacket and a pair of dark-coloured jeans upon her legs; she looked, she admitted, less like someone going to a funeral and more like someone who couldn't decide which subculture they wanted to belong to.

Jaune was wearing his armour, which conveniently covered up the bunny rabbit on his otherwise black hoodie, and had exchanged his blue jeans for black ones that were actually in a much better state of repair than the pants he normally wore; he should wear them more often.

But then, if he'd done that, it might have looked disrespectful to have not changed at all for the funeral.

And as for Ruby… well, Ruby wasn't able to be here right now.

Sunset shivered in the cool air, and as she shivered, she felt a desire to leave this place.

Everyone was standing in front of the funeral parlour; or at least, everyone who was physically able: Sunset, Jaune, and Pyrrha of Team SAPR; Weiss, Cardin, Flash, and Russel of Team WWSR; Yang, Ren, Blake, and Nora of Team YRBN – even if it didn't always seem as though that was the team to which Blake belonged; Rainbow Dash, Ciel, and Twilight of Team RSPT; Trixie, Tempest, Starlight, and Sunburst of Team TTSS; Arslan Altan of Team ARBN; Applejack. Everyone who had fought at what the news was starting to call The Breach was here. Everyone who could be here.

Ruby was lying in a hospital bed, comatose, unmoving and unspeaking; Penny was lying in a room aboard the Atlesian flagship, badly damaged and in need of repair. Neither of them could be here today, but everyone else who had been there, everyone else who had fought together to protect Vale from the grimm that had burst out into the centre of the city, they were all there.

They were just waiting upon Team BLBL… what was left of Team BLBL.

I shouldn't be here, Sunset thought. She felt like a murderer returning to the scene of her crime. Or worse, like the murderer who insinuates themselves into the victim's family, becoming a friend and a confidante, a tower of strength in their time of grief… a time that they, the killer, have created.

Sunset shuddered. She wasn't that bad. She wasn't planning to get any closer to the remainder of Team BLBL than she had ever been.

But all the same, she felt as though she ought not to be here.

But it wasn't as if she could stay away. She could – and would – stay well clear of all the other funerals, for the five other people who had died as a result of Sunset's decision to blow open The Breach and save the lives of her friends; she wasn't some voyeur, to turn up to strangers' funerals, especially when the strangers were dead in consequence of her decision, but this… this was different. This was Sky Lark's funeral, a Beacon first-year just like her, someone who had died fighting at the Breach alongside her and everyone else here.

Someone who had died fighting to correct the consequence of Sunset's decision.

She couldn't stay away. Not when everyone else was going to his funeral.

It wasn't as if they could ever know that Sunset was the reason why he had died.

She didn't… she wished that things hadn't turned out this way, but at the same time… Sunset glanced at Pyrrha, her face concealed beneath her veil. If she hadn't done what she had done, if she hadn't pressed the trigger and set off the mine, then they would be having six different funerals in Vale.

Seven. I make seven. She didn't count herself as one of the people for whom she had set off the mine, one of the six whom she had saved in exchange for the six who had died, but at the same time, she did count: there would be seven funerals instead of six.

She wished that things hadn't played out the way they had, she wished that Sky and the others had not died, she wished that nobody had been harmed in The Breach, but she could not take that next step, as logical as it might seem a step to take, and say that she regretted causing The Breach.

Because to do that would be to regret the lives of her friends, to wish them dead, and she… she could not do that. Not for Sky, not for six lives, not for Vale… not even for the world.

Sunset shivered once again. It was ironic, after a certain fashion: her semblance was a sort of empathy, and yet… and yet, she did not care.

No, no, that wasn't true; she did care… or, well, she was sorry about their deaths, she knew that she had done the wrong thing in causing those deaths, it was just that…

She couldn't really say what it was. It was all a tangle in her mind. She regretted, and she did not regret. She knew that she had done wrong, and yet, she would not do right if given the chance.

Six people had died. Six lives lost by her action. And yes, Rainbow said that it was likely that Cinder would have carried out her plans with or without Sunset's cooperation, and she was probably right, but all the same… Sunset had pulled the trigger.

And yet, when she considered the alternative: Pyrrha dead, Jaune dead, Blake dead, Ruby dead, Rainbow dead… it was too terrible to contemplate. It was impossible that she could have made any other choice, impossible that she would now make any other choice.

She had made that choice, she would make that choice, because she loved her friends more than she loved those whom she was sworn to protect.

In Mountain Glenn, on the night before the battle, Sunset had been alone on watch and had found herself admitting – to herself, if no other – that she resented the possibility that her friends might have to die for the sake… for the sake of ordinary people. Of people whom she did not know, of whom she knew little or nothing.

She had wondered then if that was such a terrible thing? If it even rose to the level of injustice? If she was really required to care for those whom she fought to defend?

The Breach, and her choice that had led to The Breach, provided at least some answer: if you didn't care, then you did not defend.

Except I did. I fought as hard as anyone.

I fought to clean up the mess that I had made.

She had resented the fact that her friends might have to die for Vale, and in consequence, people in Vale had died for her friends.

"I was a carpenter."

"I was a housewife."

"I was a butcher."

"I was a waitress."

"I was a clown."

"We were those who trusted huntsmen to keep their vows."

It was… it was an eerie thing, but in Mountain Glenn, in the midst of that grim necropolis, she had imagined the voices of the dead crying out to her, their tongueless mouths given voice once more, and they had proclaimed to her their occupations. The same occupations as those who had perished as a result of her act. And Sky, of course, made six.

Sunset had not sought to visit death or destruction upon Vale, but she had done so in a small degree, because she was not willing to sacrifice for it.

Because she did not hold that Vale was worth the sacrifice, at least not the sacrifice of Ruby or Pyrrha or the rest.

Ruby or Pyrrha or the rest, of course, would not agree with her. Well, Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune, and Blake would not agree with her, and in all likelihood, Applejack would not agree either, although Sunset didn't know her well enough to put the words into her mouth.

Rainbow Dash agreed with her; in fact, Rainbow seemed less troubled by her conscience in this business than Sunset was. Sunset suspected that she had lost someone, although she wouldn't say who, and it had soured her on the idea of dying for a noble cause. The only valid reason to cast aside your life, according to Rainbow Dash, was to save a life… and while it might seem that they would have been doing just that, saving Sky and the five others who had perished, that was where Rainbow's insistence that Cinder would have carried her plans forward regardless came in. Per Rainbow, their deaths would have accomplished nothing; therefore, saving their lives had been the right call, for all that those whom Sunset had saved would not agree.

It was a comforting thought. Sunset wished she could have embraced it wholeheartedly. Sadly, she was clever enough to understand what 'rationalisation' meant.

She had not made this choice after considering the balance of probabilities; she had not come to a conclusion after rational analysis. She had… she had acted on impulse, because she loved her friends and would not see them die, certainly not die in the dark with no chance of escape.

It had been a question of us or them, and for Sunset… there had been no choice at all.

That… might or might not make her a bad person; she had acted in her own self-interest – people did that all the time and were not called monsters for it; albeit, their self-interest took less… deadly forms for those around them. Nevertheless, what Sunset had done might not make her a monster… or it might.

Though Sunset would not do right, nevertheless, she could not convince herself that she had not done wrong.

It might or might not make her monstrous. It might or might not make her a wicked person. But it certainly did not make her a huntress. A huntress, a true huntress like Ruby, would have felt – as Ruby would certainly – that there was no choice at all.

A true huntress would have scorned Cinder's choice and faced their end with courage down in that tunnel.

A true huntress would have gone down swinging… but they would have gone down nonetheless.

The thought revolted her. At first, Sunset had told herself that her impulse had been – at least in part – driven by the effects of their confrontation with Salem, when the dark mistress of the grimm and their ultimate adversary had put into her mind visions of the deaths of all her friends. Perhaps that had had something to do with it, but at the same time, even now at a remove from that experience and from the malign influence of Mountain Glenn… Sunset felt nauseous just contemplating it. To throw away your life, to break the hearts of those who loved you, to leave your parents bereft, the promise of your life unfulfilled, your line ended, and all for what? For the old school spirit? Because it was expected of you, of your position, your line, your chosen occupation? Because it was what you signed up for? Because you should never back down from a fight?

If that was what it meant to be a huntress, then what it meant to be a huntress was… in Equestria, from whence she came, it was understood that everypony possessed a gift to the world, symbolised and represented by their cutie mark. It was not, as it was often simplistically taught to young fillies and colts, simply a matter of what you were good at – after all, a pony could have many talents; Princess Celestia, for example, was a good and wise ruler, a patient and understanding teacher, a scholar, an archmage, and the ruler of the sun, only the last of which was represented in her cutie mark – or even of what you enjoyed doing. It was more than that, deeper than that; your cutie mark represented what you had to give that none other had: no other pony could bring light to the world like Princess Celestia could. Everypony had such a gift, something to offer, something that only they could give, and although the people of Remnant did not have cutie marks – although they were very attached to their personal symbols – Sunset believed that the same principle applied here. If Ruby died, if Pyrrha died, then their gifts would be lost, that which they had to offer the world would be lost, and it would be bereft of all that they might have given had they lived. Sunset didn't want Blake to go to Atlas, but with her head, she could admit that Blake would probably do very well in the north kingdom, might even rise to high rank and great power. But not if she died, if she perished in a futile gesture, like Olivia refusing to summon aid in Ruby's book, then all of that promise and potential would be gone.

Which was why in Equestria, they did not consider death something to seek or welcome.

But what about Sky's promise and potential? What about the gifts to the world of the waitress, or the butcher, or the housewife or the clown or the carpenter?

Well… yes. Quite. That… that was the flipside, wasn't it?

Sunset was quite aware that if she were on the other side of this equation – if she were Bon Bon, and one of her team had died because of Sunset's choice – then she would hate Sunset for what she had done; she was aware that her decision was not defensible on a strictly objective set of moral standards. She was aware that, if she were on the other side, she would stop at nothing to make Sunset pay for her actions.

But she wasn't on the other side, was she? She hadn't been in Vale when someone else blew open The Breach; she had been down in the tunnel… blowing open The Breach.

Saving her friends.

Condemning Sky.

Proving that whatever else she might be, she was not a huntress.

Then what was she? If she was not a huntress, then… what?

Someone who doesn't deserve to lead Team SAPR.

That was an uncomfortable thought, to be sure. But one that was hard to deny. Team SAPR was a team of huntresses; if she was not a huntress, then how could she call herself their leader? How could she call herself one of them?

Rainbow said that they needed her, but Sunset wasn't sure she quite possessed the vanity any longer to insist that was true. If she had ever thought that it was true. She had, after all, taken account of the possibility of her own death and given her voice to Pyrrha in the succession in a letter which, somewhat embarrassingly, Pyrrha had found while Sunset was still alive to have to talk about it. That letter had contained some instructions that were… well, Sunset had planned to be dead before Pyrrha had to duel Yang over possession of Blake like two knights of old fighting for the person they both wanted to marry.

Sunset glanced again at Pyrrha, her face half-hidden behind her mourning veil. Pyrrha was brave, Pyrrha was noble, Pyrrha was kind, Pyrrha was intelligent, Pyrrha came from an ancient line of heroes and of princes; leadership was in her blood. Pyrrha was not a novice to battle, as Jaune was; Pyrrha did not court death as Ruby did. And yet, she did not shrink from it, as Sunset had in the final analysis. Pyrrha would not have pulled the trigger. She would have cast it aside. She would have done so with a heavy heart and mourned the loss of the time that she and Jaune might have spent together, as well as…

Sunset's thoughts came to an abrupt halt, much like the train where her thoughts dwelt so often and so long. Pyrrha… would Pyrrha have done so? Would Pyrrha have done other than as Sunset had? Ruby would have, for a certainty; if Sunset had waited until Ruby reached the front of the train, then she would have condemned them all to die, and done so with a light heart besides, certain that they were doing the right thing, the huntress thing. But Pyrrha? Pyrrha would give her life for a cause, without a doubt; Sunset did not want to say that Pyrrha would die for no purpose, like Ruby would, nor did Sunset think that she, like Blake, would throw away her life simply to prove to herself that she had the guts to do so, to prove to herself that she was a good person. She would die to protect the world, if she came to believe that it was her destiny to do so, or perhaps she should say that Pyrrha would die to protect the world if that was how she could best fulfil the destiny that was in her choosing. If it had been only her life in balance on the train, then Pyrrha would have given up her life, without a doubt.

But then, if it had been only Sunset on the train, then she might… she hoped that she would have made a different choice. A choice made to save one's dear friends might not be moral, right, or honourable, but it lacked the edge of craven cowardice that making such a choice to save oneself was immutably imbued with.

But it had not only been Sunset on the train, and it would not – would never – have been only Pyrrha on the train. Jaune had been on the train too, Jaune would have been on the train in any hypothetical where anyone but Sunset faced Cinder's challenge. Would Pyrrha have had the steel to sacrifice Jaune?

And if she did, was she someone that Sunset could trust to take over the team in Sunset's absence, if Sunset… if Sunset decided that they were better off without her?

Sunset, to put it mildly, had doubts. Pyrrha was noble and brave and willing to sacrifice herself but did not have Ruby's… Sunset liked Ruby – Ruby was sweet and kind on a personal level; Sunset loved her like the sister that she never had – but she wasn't blind to the fact that Ruby's heart was… it was as though by some magic, she had purged it of all weaknesses. She could love, she could laugh, she could smile, she could form friendships, but none of that mattered in battle, none of that mattered when it came to achieving victory, none of that mattered when it came to the duty of a huntress.

Ruby would have weighed the needs of the many against the needs of the few and judged that the former far outweighed the latter.

And that for a huntress, the choice that Cinder offered was no choice at all.

Pyrrha, Sunset deemed, was not made of such stern stuff. Pyrrha was in love with Jaune, and that love… Sunset might say she loved not wisely but too well, but let's face it, if you were going to fall head over heels for someone, you could do a lot worse than to fall in love without someone who didn't have a malicious bone in his body and who treated you like a princess.

Did Pyrrha have it in her to condemn Jaune alongside herself? Sunset didn't know the answer to that – she would have had to use her semblance in order to confirm it one way or the other – but she suspected that the answer was no. It did not follow logically from that that Pyrrha would have done as Sunset had – she did not have Sunset's rashness, nor the impulsive single-mindedness that sometimes drove her to take foolish actions that more considered reason might have counselled her against – but Sunset was quietly confident that she would not have blithely condemned them all to death within the darkness of the tunnel.

Perhaps she would have found a better way, a way that saved the team and protected Vale at the same time.

No, Pyrrha was someone in whom Sunset could place her trust, someone whose conduct might benefit from love but who would not be undone by it. Pyrrha was… Pyrrha was the leader they needed, perhaps. The leader they deserved.

Perhaps Sunset ought to go, leave them to it. Perhaps she ought to go right now, leave without goodbyes that would only invite questions, leave before Ruby woke up, as Ruby would wake up, without a doubt.

Except that Sunset didn't want to leave before she woke up; she wanted to know that Ruby was okay.

But then that would make leaving, if she left, that much harder.

But then… she didn't know what to do. Or rather, she didn't know what she was supposed to do. She knew what she wanted to do: she wanted to stay here at Beacon, with her friends; she wanted to stay at the place that had become home for her. She wanted to stay with those who were most precious to her in all the world.

She wanted to stay here; she just didn't know if that was… right and proper for her to do so.

Since she didn't deserve to be a huntress.

Sunset felt a hand upon her shoulder; she started and was even more surprised when the hand turned out to belong to Rainbow Dash.

Perhaps she ought not to have been surprised. Rainbow, after all, knew what she had done, and although she herself seemed to be taking it all in much better stride than Sunset, nevertheless, she understood what was in Sunset's mind. She was the only one who did.

She was the only one who got it. The only one who could ever get it, because if the others found out what she had done… the fact that Pyrrha might not have been willing to condemn Jaune would not stop her condemning Sunset.

But Pyrrha didn't know. Only Rainbow knew, and Rainbow… Rainbow was giving her an easy ride. The self-righteous stuffing had come out of Rainbow Dash in Mountain Glenn, but Sunset was not altogether sure that she preferred this new Dash. Yes, she was easier to get along with, but at the same time… it was just weird, having her be this nice, especially in the face of the arguably worst thing that Sunset had done.

Nevertheless, Rainbow was being nice about it; her magenta eyes were considerate as she asked, softly, "Are you okay?"

Sunset looked past Rainbow Dash; the funeral parlour was surrounded by a graveyard, or at least by markers for the dead – Sunset wasn't sure that there were bodies buried beneath every one; a lot of people got cremated these days. Nevertheless, she was surrounded by the reminders of death: stones with names and dates and pieces of melancholy poetry engraved upon them, little statuettes of angels or phoenixes.

"I was a carpenter."

"I was a housewife."

"I was a butcher."

"I was a waitress."

"I was a clown."

"We were those who trusted huntsmen to keep their vows."

"Not really," Sunset muttered. "This place gives me the creeps."

Rainbow's brow furrowed. "Yeah, I can get that," she murmured. "It… it's gonna be okay."

Sunset looked into Rainbow's eyes. "You think so?" she asked. Because I'm not so certain.

Rainbow might have meant to reply, but anything that she had intended to say – if she had intended to say anything – was lost as the funeral car arrived. It was not a hearse, there was… there was nothing of Sky Lark to be borne in a hearse, nothing found to prove that he was dead except for the fact that he had not shown up alive, and… and after the fire that the Atlesians had rained down upon the plaza, there was little chance that he would.

Nobody believed that he was not dead. That, after all, was why they were here.

But there was not a hearse. What there was, however, was a black car, the official car, the car for family, carrying within it the members of Team BLBL.

Sunset hadn't known Sky Lark… at all. She hadn't known him, she hadn't cared to know him, she hadn't known anything about him, but now that he was dead, she had found out that both his parents had predeceased him. Poor guy didn't have any family other than this team.

They got out of the car. Professor Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch were with them, both having exchanged their usual attire for solemn black. Professor Goodwitch's green eyes were filled with sympathy as they watched Team BLBL, what remained of it, exit the car.

Professor Ozpin's expression was inscrutable.

Bon Bon's face was so pale that she looked almost like a corpse herself; she stared in front of her, scarcely seeming to see anything. Lyra was in tears; they streamed down her face as fast as she could wipe them away with a handkerchief. She and Dove were arm in arm, and Lyra seemed to be leaning on him for support. Dove himself looked… stoic, as if he felt the need to be strong for his teammates.

Or perhaps he just didn't care as much as they did.

Also emerging from the car was the funeral… director, or officiator, or whatever her official title was, a blonde woman in a top hat and tailcoat for whom they all made way, shuffling aside as she walked to the doors of the red-brick funeral parlour, unlocked the iron-bound wooden door, and opened it up.

The others waited for Team BLBL to lead the way, shuffling inside with slow, unsteady tread, Dove supporting Lyra and Bon Bon looking as though she was scarcely paying attention to where she was going. Nevertheless, they made their way in, and the rest of the students, the rest of those who had fought beside them at the Breach, followed after.

Inside the funeral parlour was not as quiet as Sunset had expected; as they walked in, a wordless guitar song began to play, and Sunset had to assume that it was one of Sky's favourites. The walls of the funeral parlour were bare and unadorned; wooden pews were lined up row upon row, and teams occupied the pews in their fours or their threes. Team BLBL, of course, sat at the front, with Professor Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch sitting across the aisle from them. Then came Team WWSR, and Team YRBN across from them, and then Team TTSS. Team SAPR sat to the rear, joined by Arslan Altan, who otherwise would have sat by herself; Arlsan sat at the end of the pew, nearest the wall, with Pyrrha beside her and Jaune next to her, the two of them holding hands; Sunset sat upon the aisle, while the three present members of Team RSPT sat across said aisle from her; like Sunset, Rainbow Dash took the aisle seat. Ciel bowed her head, and her lips moved silently; Sunset guessed that she was praying.

She would have to pray by herself, because Sunset doubted that prayers would form part of the service.

She wasn't sure what the service was going to consist of. Had Sky been at all religious? She didn't know. She didn't know anything about him. She didn't know how he would wish his passing to be honoured.

Probably, he'd prefer to not be dead, but I screwed that up for him, didn't I? Sunset thought bitterly.

The woman in the top hat and tails had vanished. There was no one Sunset could see to perform the ceremony. If there was going to be a ceremony. But then, they were here for some reason, weren't they?

Professor Ozpin got to his feet. He was without his cane on this occasion; as a result, he moved more quietly than usual as he rose, walked forward a few steps, and turned to face the assembled students.

"We are here today to honour Sky Lark," he reminded them, his voice betraying little grief; Sunset found herself wondering how many such services like this he had attended over the years. Did he remember how many? "Mister Lark gave his life defending Vale from the creatures of grimm and, in so doing, upheld the finest traditions not only of Beacon Academy, but also of huntsmen as a profession, an institution, and a calling.

"Perhaps this ought to be my cue to tell you not to grieve this loss. Perhaps I ought to tell you that we must keep moving forward and not allow ourselves to be slowed down by sadness or the pain of loss. Perhaps… perhaps that would be easier for all concerned, but those of you who knew Mister Lark well would scarcely be human if you could so easily shrug aside your feelings. The fact that we grieve, the fact that we care for one another, the fact that we are driven by emotions rather than the mere biological imperatives, these are the things that set us apart from the creatures of grimm against which we fight, and if we are to prevail against such monsters, it will be because of those same feelings, not in spite of them. So grieve, by all means; it is painful now, I don't deny it, but that pain… that pain is the sign you have a soul." He fell silent for a moment. "I… I did not know Mister Lark as well as I should have liked. Certainly, I didn't know him as well as he deserved, and I have no intention of standing here and pretending to a closeness with him that I did not possess. Therefore, Mister Lark's team leader, Miss Bonaventure, will say a few words concerning his character. Miss Bonaventure, if you would?"

Professor Ozpin stepped away, a grave look upon his face, leaving an empty space at the front of the hall.

Bon Bon took a moment before she even tried to get up. Once she did get up, she moved with that same shuffling, shambling gait until she stood where Professor Ozpin had stood just a moment ago. She looked down at the floor. Then briefly, she looked up to cast her eyes across the assembled group, then she looked down again as, with trembling hands, she reached into the pocket of her skirt and produced a set of flash cards.

They shook in her hands as she looked down on them.

"'How… how lucky I am to have… how lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard'," Bon Bon said, her voice trembling like her hands. "That's, um, that's Sanders the Bear. Sky loved that. He loved Sanders the Bear, and Countess Coloratura, and dim sum, and he loved to draw." She smiled. "Or maybe he just liked to draw pictures of me and Lyra, I don't know." The smile died, replaced by a choked half-sob as though she had tried to cut it off halfway. "I… I know the things he loved because he was my friend. He was my friend. He was my friend, and now, he's gone, and it's all my fault-" The flash cards fell from her limp fingers as she clutched at her face, tears streaming down it.

Dove was on his feet in an instant, crossing the little distance that lay between them, putting his arms around her and pressing Bon Bon's face against his shoulder. Her body was wracked with sobbing.

"He was my friend," she sobbed. "And it's all my fault."

Sunset closed her eyes and bowed her head. No. No, Bon Bon, it isn't your fault at all. It's mine.

She felt sick to her stomach. She felt indecent just being here. She should never have come here; it was wrong of her, it was immoral. Yes, it would have been hard to explain her absence, but it would have been better than this. What right did she have to come to Sky's memorial when she was the reason there was a memorial?

She kept her eyes closed, and her head bowed, and her eyes were still closed when she heard Lyra's voice, raised in song, eclipse Bon Bon's sobbing.

"The silver swan, that living had no note," she sang.

Sunset opened her eyes and looked up. Lyra, too, was on her feet. One hand rested lightly upon Bon Bon's shoulder. She was half-turned to face the others, half looking away from them, and yet, her voice carried to them all nevertheless.

"When death approached, unlocked her silent throat,

Leaning her breast against the reedy shore,

Thus sung her first and last, and sang no more.

'Farewell, all joys," Lyra paused, her voice shaking.

"'Farewell, all joys,'" she repeated, before wiping at her eyes with one hand. She closed her eyes, screwing them tight shut, and her hand fell away from Bon Bon's shoulder.

"'Farewell all joys,'" Weiss sang, her voice as clear as a bell, "'Oh death, come close my eyes.

More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise.

More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise.'"

More geese than swans now live, more fools than wise, Sunset thought. Sounds about right.

And the goose that thought she was a swan doesn't deserve to be here anymore.

 

[RedWolff]

Sunset Shimmer has led her team safely out of Mountain Glenn and through the battle at the Breach that followed. But at what cost? As a consequence of her decision in that dark, lonely tunnel, six people are dead including her fellow student Sky Lark.

Six lives for the six lives she saved with her decision.

Now, with Vale on edge and Ruby comatose in hospital, Sunset must consider her position at Beacon, and whether she is, or ever was, fit to be a huntress.

Meanwhile, Pyrrha accompanies Jaune home for his father's birthday, but in a secluded village where the Invincible Girl means nothing, how will she cope with Jaune's disapproving sisters?

And who is sabotaging the defences in the Emerald Forest? The search for answers leads Team SAPR back to Mountain Glenn, and to an unlikely alliance against a mutual enemy.

Click to shrink...

What I'm eager to see now is what's going on at Beacon prior to Team RSPT, Weiss, and Flash returning to Atlas with Blake. Plus, how Sunset deals with this and her journal "conversations" with Celestia and Twilight. Do you plan to also cover Ruby's and Yang's personal story parts as well about the history/story of Team STRQ like in the first version?

Finally, do you also plan to further show the political and social aftermath occurring in Vale after the Breach like you did with Ozpin and that Valish far-right politician?

 

[ScipioSmith]

Confrontation Conversation​

Ruby was asleep. Or unconscious, it was hard to say which was more appropriate right now. If she was asleep, it was a sleep from which she could not be roused, as though she were waiting for a prince to kiss her awake.

And they had none of those.

That Ruby looked peaceful, almost serene, was something to be thankful for at least. Wherever she was, whyever she couldn't or wouldn't wake, she didn't seem to be in any pain or distress.

The little dog, Zwei, was also sleeping – a true sleep, this time, one from which he could wake up at any time he chose – he presently was curled up on Ruby's chest, nuzzling her pale cheek with his face, rising and falling with Ruby's gentle breathing.

Sunset hovered over Ruby's bed, standing over her, casting a shadow over her and the dog that rested on top of her. She had never enjoyed feeling powerless, and that wasn't something that was changing now.

Your mother's diary talked about the exhaustion of using her powers, but this? She never said that it put her into a coma.

If it had… if it had, you probably would have wanted to go ahead and try for it anyway, wouldn't you? Because that's just who you are.

Too noble by more than half.

Sunset looked down at her hand. She had removed the finger from her wedding glove: she could now see the skin of her ring finger, while the silken finger of the glove flopped limply down. She had thought about trying to use her semblance on Ruby to try and… well, the fact that she couldn't properly articulate what it was that she thought that her semblance might be able to do for Ruby was the reason why she hadn't done it yet. It might – and that was a big 'might' – show Sunset where Ruby's mind was right now, but that wouldn't help to wake her up. It was for that reason that she pulled the finger of the glove back on.

She would have to trust, as they would all have to trust, that this wasn't permanent, that Ruby would wake up in her own time, when she was ready to come back to them.

Yang sat on the other side of Ruby's bed, holding onto Ruby's hand with both of her own. A look of melancholy which verged on misery haunted her face.

Pyrrha stood at the foot of the bed wearing a grave look; in the way that she stood and the look on her face, one might almost have thought that she was still at Sky's funeral, save that she had changed out of her mourning dress. Jaune sat in the other seat, opposite Yang, his hands fidgeting upon his knees, as though he couldn't think of what to do with them. Blake stood against the wall between two of the empty beds in this four-bed room, her arms folded across her chest, a dark look upon her face that had nothing to do with her black hair as her golden eyes were fixed upon Ruby.

Sunset both was and wasn't sure why Blake looked like that; yes, she'd been through a lot in Mountain Glenn, but then, they'd all been through a lot in Mountain Glenn. Perhaps it was the death of Adam or the death of all the rest of the White Fang – most of them, at least – down in the tunnel between Mountain Glenn and Vale that were eating away at her.

Ordinarily, Sunset would have tried to help her. She had tried, she thought that she had tried, to help Blake with her problems, to help her with what was troubling her, just to help Blake find herself, her place in the world, to help Blake the way that Pyrrha and Ruby and Jaune had helped Sunset. It hadn't seemed to work out quite so well.

Ordinarily, Sunset would have kept trying regardless, but right now… after what had happened on the train, Sunset didn't think she was the right person to be trying to help Blake through this particular issue.

Better that she focus on Ruby, until Ruby woke up.

Unless she decided that it was better that she slip away before Ruby woke up.

Either way, she wasn't in much of a position to help Blake right now.

"Is Ruby going to be okay?" Jaune asked plaintively.

"I'm sure so," Pyrrha said softly.

"You don't know that," Yang said, her voice choked. "You can't be sure."

Pyrrha glanced away. "No," she admitted. "No, I can't."

"She'll wake up," Sunset asserted. She has to.

"But you don't know that she will," Yang repeated, with more force than before.

Sunset frowned. "No," she admitted, "I guess I don't." She turned away from Yang and from Ruby. She crossed the ward, passing Pyrrha who looked at her but said nothing, as she went to stand beside Blake.

A sigh escaped from Sunset's lips.

Blake glanced at her but said nothing. Sunset found herself almost grateful for that fact.

"Does this… does this feel like a victory to anyone?" Jaune asked. "Does anyone feel like we won?"

Sunset didn't answer, because the personal answer was 'no.' Whatever Rainbow Dash might have to say on the subject, this did not feel like a victory. This felt… this felt like a defeat, if only a personal one.

Pyrrha's voice came slowly at first. "We… we are alive," she pointed out. "Ruby is alive, and as concerned as we are for her condition, we should not lose sight of the fact that she yet lives." She turned her head a little to look at Yang as she said that. "She will wake, and return to us. There are far worse fates that could have befallen her, or any of us. We live, and Vale lives too."

"People died," Jaune replied, sending a dagger through Sunset's soul.

"And many more did not," Pyrrha insisted. "How many more people might have perished if the Breach had caught the city's defenders unawares, if General Ironwood had not been alerted, if the nearby districts hadn't been evacuated? We could have been looking at the greatest catastrophe to befall Vale since Mountain Glenn fell." She took pause for a moment. "I do not mean to dismiss Sky's loss, or any of those others who perished; I have no doubt that their friends and loved ones miss them as much as Lyra and Bon Bon miss Sky. But the city was saved, and while we did not save it single-handedly through our efforts, without us, there would not have been the warning that enabled the city to be saved. We should take pride in that."

"Do you take pride in that?" Sunset asked softly.

Pyrrha looked at Sunset over her shoulder. She pursed her lips together momentarily before she replied, "I have but one regret in all of this: that I was not able to defeat Cinder Fall, and either bring her to justice or…"

Sunset's brow furrowed a little. "Or?"

Pyrrha took a deep breath. "Or deliver her to the justice of the heavens."

The frown remained on Sunset's face, but her tongue was stilled. With only Jaune and Blake as witnesses, Sunset might have been willing to thrash it out with Pyrrha on the subject; it might be said to be in bad taste to argue at Ruby's bedside, but Sunset and Pyrrha never really did argue, they were so close in outlook – and Pyrrha so unfailingly polite and good-natured… at least when she wasn't threatening to kill Cinder – that any points of disagreement between them ended up being very… sororal, one might say.

But it would be hard to get into the meat of it with Yang around. Ruby had not, in the end, told her sister about Salem, or any of the things that everyone else in the room knew but her. And since that knowledge was pretty germane to the discussion, it would be hard to talk around them.

And besides, right now… Sunset wasn't sure she was in the right frame of mind to mount a defence of Cinder Fall at the moment. Cinder had, after all, convinced Sunset to blow the Breach, causing the deaths of Sky Lark and five other people. Sunset… Sunset hated her for that. Or at least, she thought she probably ought to hate Cinder for that. Perhaps a true huntress would swear vengeance upon Cinder, the same way that a true huntress would have condemned their friends to death.

If so, that would be two strikes against Sunset, because she didn't really hate Cinder for what she'd done. She felt as though she was coming close to hating herself, but she did not hate Cinder. For Cinder, she felt… she couldn't even really blame Cinder, for all that Cinder's words had been pouring into her ear at the time. They had been pouring through an open door, after all; Cinder's words would not have affected Ruby, only someone like Sunset who was susceptible to them.

It would be too easy to blame Cinder for this. By blaming herself instead, Sunset could continue to… to what? What did she want out of Cinder? What did she think was going to happen to Cinder? Why did the idea of Cinder perishing at Pyrrha's hands arouse such distaste and fear in her?

"What about the cost?" asked Blake softly.

Pyrrha hesitated. "Do you mean Ruby and Penny, or do you mean the White Fang?" she asked in a voice as quiet as Blake's own.

"It doesn't matter," Blake replied. "Forget I asked."

Pyrrha glanced downward. "I am… not one to cheerlead," she said, "but we are not without things to be proud of in our performance on this mission. If we fell short of our expectations of ourselves… that suggests that our expectations were too great, our egos not yet curbed by experience."

"Perhaps," Sunset murmured.

She was probably right – at least as far as she, Jaune and Ruby were concerned. They had nothing to be ashamed of. As for herself… Sunset knew better.

The door into the ward slid open with a hiss that attracted the attention of Sunset and everyone else in the room too. Rainbow Dash stood in the doorway, still wearing her Atlas uniform.

She looked at Ruby, her chest rising and falling beneath the blanket and the dog.

"How is she?" Rainbow asked quietly.

"She's… stable, but as you see," Pyrrha murmured, "she hasn't woken up yet."

"And they don't know when she will?" Rainbow said as she stepped into the room. Sunset appreciated that she had said when, not if. The door slid closed behind her.

"No," Pyrrha admitted. She glanced at Ruby, and then down at her feet before she looked back up at Rainbow. "How's Penny?"

"She's… but she'll be okay." Rainbow glanced at Yang, who – much as she was the only person in the room not to know about Salem, was also the only one who didn't know that Penny was a robot. "She'll be okay, but she needs to go home for treatment. So we're shipping out for Atlas; we won't see you guys for a while."

"When are you leaving?" Pyrrha asked.

"In a couple of days," Rainbow said. "We're flying back on the Hope, escorting a civilian liner."

"I see," Pyrrha said softly. She hesitated for a moment. "Could I see her, before you go?"

Rainbow smiled. "Sure," she said. "Penny would like that. In fact, I was going to mention it if you didn't; she's asked after you." Rainbow glanced at Sunset. "More surprisingly, she asked after you, too."

Sunset's eyebrows. "She asked after me?"

"Yep."

I thought she couldn't talk yet. And even if she can talk, why does she want to talk to me? It wasn't as though they were close. As far as Sunset could recall, they had had one interaction that wasn't simply as part of the wider group, one single instance when they had spoken directly to-

"But I'm not human, am I?"

"Do you want to hear a secret, Penny? Neither am I."

Oh. Right. Yes. That.

Sunset's ears drooped. "I… I'm not sure that's such a good idea."

"Sunset?" Pyrrha murmured in surprise.

Rainbow's eyes narrowed, but she didn't argue the point. Sunset would have been grateful for that, except that she suspected that there would be arguing of the point to come, just a little later down the line.

Right now, however, Rainbow looked down at the sleeping Ruby. "What she did there was something else."

"What it did to her was something else too," Yang muttered.

Rainbow glanced at her. "Sure. I guess. But… she'll wake up. She's too tough not to." She turned away. "Anyway, I came to let you know we'd be leaving and to say goodbye 'cause we won't see you now until just before the festival, probably." She nodded to Jaune. "Take care, Jaune."

"Thanks," he said. "You too."

Rainbow grinned. "I thought I might try taking care of other people instead."

She looked back at Ruby, and her boots squeaked on the floor as she stood to attention and swept her hand up to her brow in a textbook perfect salute. Rainbow held the gesture for a moment, then brought her hand back down again and wheeled – with more squeaking of boots – to face Blake.

She marched across the room until the two of them were face to face.

"Blake," Rainbow said. "Applejack and Fluttershy are flying back to Atlas as well, aboard the civilian skyliner that the Hope is escorting to Atlas. If… if you wanted to say goodbye."

Blake nodded. "I will; thank you for letting me know." She blinked. "I'm a little surprised they're not flying back on the Hope where you can keep an eye on them."

Rainbow let out a snorting chuckle. "It did cross my mind, but I won't be far away. And… maybe it would be a borderline case for Applejack, but it would be hard to get a berth for a civilian aboard a man of war; there isn't a lot of space. Plus, the rooms are more comfortable on a skyliner, and I think they deserve that."

Blake nodded. "I suppose you're right." She hesitated. "Rainbow-"

"Blake," Rainbow cut her off, "your agreement with Atlas, in which we agreed to, well, to keep you out of jail, was that you would help us until the threat of the White Fang had been dealt with. I've spoken to the General, and he agreed with me that we can call the threat of the White Fang dealt with."

Sunset's eyebrows rose. Is she-?

Blake blinked rapidly. "What… what are you saying?"

"The White Fang bet the farm on this," Rainbow declared. "All the robberies, all the dust, all the weapons, it was all building up to this. And they blew it. They used up all the dust, they used up all or most of the weapons they stole from us, and they lost most of their manpower. They had their shot, and now they're done. The power of the White Fang is broken here in Vale; this will take them years to recover from materially, and that's without mentioning how bad they made themselves look by letting grimm loose in the city. They're done."

"Cinder-"

"You didn't agree to help us get Cinder," Rainbow said. "You agreed to come and work with us to stop whatever the White Fang were planning. And we did, and you were a part of that." She took a deep breath. "Atlas isn't perfect, but it keeps its word. Or at least, the military does. The General does. I do." Her voice became hoarse as she said, "You're free, Blake. You're not bound to me, or Atlas, any longer."

Blake stared up into Rainbow's magenta eyes. "Free? Is that…" she glanced at Ruby, sleeping in bed, and her gaze dropped. "Free. Right."

"That's right, you're not… you don't have to… I won't… you're free, like I said. You're not bound to us any more, you don't have to have another thing to do with any of us," Rainbow conceded. "Oh, except for one thing: General Ironwood would like to see you. One last debriefing."

"Of course," Blake sighed. "I suppose that that… is about as much as I should have expected." She held out her hand. "Goodbye, Rainbow Dash."

Rainbow took Blake's head, and shook it firmly. "Blake, I… meeting you, I... I hope you're happy." She looked awkward, her body tense and shifting uncomfortably, and when she looked at and spoke to Sunset the relief in her voice was palpable. "Hey, Sunset, can I talk to you for a second? In private?"

Sunset raised one eyebrow, even as she gestured towards the door. "Sure."

They both stepped out of the ward, the door hissing closed behind them, and stood for a moment in the corridor outside. It wasn't exactly private; there was a nurse's station not far away with a nurse at it. Rainbow took the lead, making Sunset trail behind her down the corridor until they came to a pair of vending machines – a free dispenser of tea and coffee, and a brightly lit provider of canned drinks that you had to pay for – standing idle and unattended, with nobody in sight in either direction.

Rainbow gestured to the machines. "You want something?"

Sunset glanced at the bright green can machine. "No."

"Suit yourself," Rainbow said, tapping a couple of the buttons on the free tea and coffee machine to get a cardboard cup filled with something hot and brown and otherwise indeterminate. Rainbow took a sip from it and licked her upper lip when she was done. "So, why don't you want to go and see Penny?"

"Why are you acting so weird around Blake?"

"That's not what we're talking about."

"Maybe we should talk about it," Sunset replied. "You've been clinging on Blake like a… a really clingy thing this entire time and now all of a sudden you're throwing her away-"

"Nobody's throwing Blake away."

"You could only be throwing Blake more away if you told her to have a nice life!" Sunset snapped.

"You were the one who told me to-"

"I wanted you to be a better team leader, not a jackass!"

Rainbow was silent for a moment. "I'm doing what's best for Blake," she said. "I'm… I'm putting her ahead of myself and Atlas. I thought you'd be glad."

"Well… I'm not," Sunset muttered.

"And I'm not happy you don't want to talk to Penny," Rainbow replied. "At least I have my reasons, do you?"

"Does it matter?" Sunset asked. She took a step forward. "I mean, it isn't like she can talk back at the moment, right?"

"Actually, she can… sort of," Rainbow muttered. "She's plugged into… you'll see for yourself when you come and see her."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Sunset said.

"I do; I think it might cheer you up a little," Rainbow said. She glanced at the nurse, who didn't seem to be paying much attention. She also glanced at the storage closet not far away. "Do you want to go somewhere more private?"

"Do we need to go somewhere more private?"

Rainbow glanced this way and that. She drank, and then stepped a little closer to Sunset until they were almost touching.

"Okay, we might need to go somewhere private where this is going," Sunset said.

"Shut up," Rainbow replied. She looked down at Sunset. "So…" She looked away. "So what's this about you not being human?"

"Well, I am a faunus."

"You know what I mean!"

"And you know what I've got," Sunset said. "Did it never occur to you that I might be… from somewhere else?"

"No," Rainbow said immediately. "That would be…" She trailed off. "So it's true, then?"

Sunset nodded. "It's true."

"Right," Rainbow murmured weakly. "So are you going to tell me-?"

"No."

"Right," Rainbow repeated. She gestured at the room they had left. "The others, do they-?"

"Yes."

Rainbow snorted. "I guess I know where we stand then," she muttered, a quick smile crossing her face. The smile faded. "So… this place you come from… are you going back there?"

"No," Sunset said instantly. "No, I'm not." I don't deserve to go back.

"Good," Rainbow said. "You're staying here."

"I didn't say that."

"Well, where else are you going to go?" Rainbow demanded.

"I don't know," Sunset admitted.

"Then stay," Rainbow urged. "Stay here, stay with them. They need you."

"They don't need me."

"Who's going to be leader if you walk off into the wilderness and become a hermit?"

Sunset raised one inquisitive eyebrow.

"You just admitted you've got no ideas; I had to come up with something."

Sunset sighed. "Pyrrha," she said. "She'll take over."

Rainbow shook her head. "Pyrrha's a bad choice."

"Oh, because you're such an expert on what makes a good team leader," Sunset said acidly.

Rainbow ignored that. "Pyrrha," she said. "Pyrrha's great, but she… she wouldn't take care of the others the way that you do."

"What makes you say that?" Sunset asked.

"Because she hasn't taken care of them, you have," Rainbow pointed out. "I… I haven't always appreciated how you chose to do it, but you've always tried, and it… it seems to work out for you, and for them. You've kept them safe, and happy."

"At what cost?"

Rainbow frowned. "You know as well as I do that if we had made all the right moves down in Mountain Glenn – by which I mean pulling out of the railyard once we rescued Applejack and falling back to join Professor Goodwitch on The Bus – then that wouldn't have saved Sky or the others."

"You know what I mean."

"What I think is that the reason you don't want to talk to Penny is that you don't think you deserve nice things," Rainbow declared. "Which is also the only reason you're thinking about leaving, because there are no actual good reasons for it. What do you think is going to happen if you quit? Do you think the missions are going to stop? Even if he lets you out, do you think that Ozpin is going to stop sending Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ruby out like he sent us out to Mountain Glenn? If you want someone to blame for what happened, then how about you blame the person who decided that it was a good idea to send two first-year student teams on a mission-critical recon assignment?"

"Which we volunteered for."

"We're kids," Rainbow said. "We're allowed to make dumb choices. Our superiors are supposed to be a check against that, not enable it." She finished off her coffee and tossed the cup into the green recycling bin. "I asked the General, before we left, why this mission was going to us and not some real Specialists. He told me that Ozpin didn't like Specialists; he preferred to trust students. If you want to blame someone for the mistakes of this mission, how about the person who thought that was a good idea? Do you remember when we told the others about what we'd heard up in the tower? About… you know."

Sunset nodded. "I remember."

"Pyrrha said that we had reached the end of vanity," Rainbow reminded her. "But that wasn't really true, not in that garage. If it had been, then we wouldn't have volunteered for Mountain Glenn. That's where we reached the end of vanity. We shouldn't have been there, and that's what my report will say to the General." She paused. "My point is… you walking away won't bring anyone back from the dead, but it might just mean that the next memorial service is for Pyrrha."

Sunset scowled. "That's a little below the belt, don't you think?"

"No such thing as below the belt if it works," Rainbow said. "You should talk to Penny. She'd really appreciate it, and I think that you'd enjoy it too once you did it. You and Pyrrha could go together." She paused. "Just don't do that thing where you start talking weird like you're doing old-time theatre. You realise you're the only two people who can understand each other when you talk like that, right?"

Sunset rolled her eyes. "I'm surprised you're not worried I'll be a bad influence on her."

"I'm not sure that it's possible to be a bad influence on Penny," Rainbow replied. "She's too much of a good influence on everyone around her. Please go and see her; she'll be hurt if you don't. She won't understand why."

That was unfortunately true. Sunset pouted. She didn't want to upset Penny, and if Penny wanted to see her, then… "Fine."

Rainbow smiled and clapped her on the shoulder. "Thanks," she said. "Thank you. You won't regret it."

 

[ScipioSmith]

What I'm eager to see now is what's going on at Beacon prior to Team RSPT, Weiss, and Flash returning to Atlas with Blake. Plus, how Sunset deals with this and her journal "conversations" with Celestia and Twilight. Do you plan to also cover Ruby's and Yang's personal story parts as well about the history/story of Team STRQ like in the first version?

Finally, do you also plan to further show the political and social aftermath occurring in Vale after the Breach like you did with Ozpin and that Valish far-right politician?

Click to shrink...

Oh, yes, Valish politics is going to play a much bigger role this time around.

 

[RedWolff]

Oh, yes, Valish politics is going to play a much bigger role this time around.

Click to shrink...

Thanks for replying and letting me know

 

[ScipioSmith]

Never Without You​

Pyrrha had been here before.

Not 'here' upon the roof of the hospital on which she stood, her glove-enclosed arms resting upon the iron rail that ran atop the low wall which encompassed said roof, but here as in this situation.

When Sunset had been caught in that explosion, she had been here, waiting for her to wake up, waiting as she lay unconscious in bed, waiting powerlessly for some sign that she would wake.

Now it was Ruby she was waiting for, and she had liked it no better than she had enjoyed waiting for Sunset.

In fact, she found that having been through it already seemed to make it harder to bear a second time round.

That… perhaps that was why she was up here on the roof. Or perhaps she had simply felt too awkward to remain in the room with Yang.

With Sunset, she had been alone. With the threat of the White Fang still looming over them, Professor Ozpin had ordered Jaune and Ruby back to Beacon for their own safety, only allowing Pyrrha to remain when she had invoked Mistralian honour to win the right. Pyrrha wasn't sure if being alone – save for flying visits by Blake and Rainbow Dash – had made it easier for her to stay in the room with Sunset, trying to read from the Mistraliad, mentally wincing at the absurd note that Sunset had written in case of her death – a duel with Yang over Blake, of all things! – waiting, hoping, keeping an eye on Sunset constantly for the moment when her eyes would open.

Perhaps it had been easier alone. But the White Fang were defeated now – that was their victory, or at least a victory in which they had played no small part; it might not feel like a great triumph to Blake, but nevertheless, it was something that they could point to as an accomplishment – and with that danger passed, that shadow lifted; as many people were free to stay at Ruby's bedside as they wished. Yang, of course, Sunset and Jaune, and Blake as well.

It was Yang who… that was rather unfair of Pyrrha to think it. Yang was Ruby's sister; she had every right to be there. Perhaps it was simply the way that the elder sister seemed to hold them all responsible.

Or perhaps it was just that Pyrrha felt responsible and blamed Yang for the feeling when the other girl was blameless.

Certainly, retreating out of the room and coming up onto the roof hadn't made her feel any better.

The only difference was that she felt like a coward.

The wind kissed her face, albeit a little less gently than Jaune, and blew through her long red ponytail, brushing her hair this way and that, threatening to send it billowing out behind her in a long tail, although not quite achieving such a thing. It rustled at the teal drops that hung on golden chains from her circlet, sending them tapping at her cheeks as they bounced this way and that.

Pyrrha ignored the sensation, leaving her aura to prevent too much discomfort as she leaned upon the metal rail and looked out.

Vale was spread out all around her, the busy ambulance bay before the doors giving way to the mundanity of the parking lot which, in turn, yielded to the rest of the city rising all around, the great towers rising to touch the sky mingling with the modest brownstones and the red-brick terraces.

It was not so easy to see Vale as it was to see Mistral; it wasn't just a matter of standing reasonably high up the slope and looking down the mountain, but nevertheless, Pyrrha fancied that she had a good view of the city. If she could not see it all, then she could nevertheless see enough.

It seemed so large, and in its size, it seemed, as many large things did, to be permanent, impervious to harm… impregnable. And yet, this vast city, the heart of an even larger kingdom, had been thrown for a moment into the most grave peril.

A peril from which it had, nonetheless, escaped. Pyrrha's green-eyed gaze drifted upwards, following the rising skyscrapers up into the clouds. The sky was filled with them, so much so that it was on the verge of becoming overcast, and yet, between the clouds, she could yet catch glimpses of General Ironwood's mighty warships, their lights blinking upon their dark hulls like stars in the night sky, as they moved above the clouds like leviathans of the air.

Some of the smaller airships descended beneath the clouds, the better perhaps to see what was happening in Vale itself, flitting about the skyline on patrol, their eyes ever watchful.

The battle was won, but it was said that General Ironwood was summoning reinforcements nonetheless; the Valish Council had invited him to take over security for the Vytal Festival, and it seemed he meant to make it very secure indeed.

Pyrrha wondered if anyone else was asking themselves what, with the threat of the White Fang having diminished into nothing and the grimm having already been slaughtered in great numbers, the festival needed to be secured from.

She knew of course. Cinder Fall yet lived. Salem would outlive them all, and the mistress of the grimm might yet gather more of her dark creatures to launch yet more assaults upon the lights of civilisation, while her dreadful acolyte plotted and schemed to achieve… whatever ends had made her side with such a monster.

They yet had need of General Ironwood's protection.

Without the Atlesian forces, without those leviathans of the sky, without the androids and the airships, Vale… there might not be a Vale to host the Vytal Festival. When the grimm poured out of the breach, it had been, in the end, the overwhelming fire of Atlesian warships that had stopped them.

It had taken a vast army to save a vast city.

Pyrrha looked down, her gaze falling in parallel with the wall to reach the ground beneath. No one looked up at her.

She wondered, if anyone was to look up, how small she might look from down there.

As small, perhaps, as Ruby looked in that hospital bed, or smaller still.

A frown creased Pyrrha's features, her brows furrowing beneath her circlet. Would Ruby wake? With good fortune, she would. Sunset had woken, after all, and Sunset had been in worse shape.

She thought so, anyway. Perhaps, at least. It was hard to tell. It was impossible to say for sure. Sunset had been injured in an explosion, which was terrible but at least understood; Ruby had been affected by her own magic.

Magic. Before this year began Pyrrha would not have believed in such a thing. But now, there was Ruby's magic and Sunset's magic and Salem and Relics and-

"There you are," Sunset said.

Pyrrha half-turned, looking around to see Sunset standing in the doorway that led up onto the roof – or back down into the hospital. Sunset let the door swing shut behind her with a dull thud as she walked across the black roof, the slightly springy substance it was made of lending a bounce to her step that hardly seemed to suit the look on her face as she approached Pyrrha at the roof's edge.

The breeze rustled through her long mane and through her tail alike as she came to stand by Pyrrha's side, resting her own gloved hands lightly upon the metal rail. "Hey," she said.

Pyrrha glanced at Sunset. "I know that I shouldn't have left Ruby-"

Sunset raised a hand to cut her off. "It's fine," she said. "Ruby… it's fine."

"If she wakes up and I'm not-"

"She'll understand," Sunset assured her. She paused. "Would you mind if I tagged along to see Penny?"

Pyrrha smiled ever so slightly. "Is that what you and Rainbow talked about?"

Sunset nodded. "Pretty much. If she wants to see me, then… I don't have much excuse for staying away, do I?"

Pyrrha's smile widened just a tad. "We will go together then… in place of Ruby."

Sunset shook her head. "For ourselves," she said.

Pyrrha considered that for a moment. "For ourselves," she agreed. "To comfort a friend is something which we may do, at least."

Sunset frowned. "'At least'?"

Pyrrha took a moment to reply, turning her gaze away from Sunset and once more casting it out across Vale. "It's huge, isn't it?"

Sunset looked out too, her own eyes taking in all of the city that could be seen. "Yes," she said, her voice growing a little hoarse. "I suppose it is." Her equine ears drooped down a little, for no reason that Pyrrha could tell.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. "It is now believed by some archaeologists and scholars that during the time of the Mistralian War, the time of the Mistraliad, the city of Mistral was only around the size of the city's railway station."

"How big is that?" Sunset asked. "You never showed us the station."

"It is not small," Pyrrha allowed. "Unlike Vale, Mistral has only one station serving the whole city and every conceivable destination, but nevertheless, compared to the size of Mistral – or Vale now – it is rather small."

Sunset considered that, or seemed to. She grinned. "I bet Old Mistral did more for human happiness than a train station ever did."

"Perhaps," Pyrrha acknowledged. It had given them the Mistraliad, after all.

"Although one shouldn't underestimate trainspotters."

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as a snort escaped her. "Sunset!"

"I know that you're making your way towards a solemn point," Sunset said, "but that doesn't mean that we have to be solemn every step of the way to get there."

Pyrrha half-turned to better face her friend, the kind of friend she had never expected to find but who, perhaps, understood her better than anyone. "What makes you think my point will be solemn?"

"You've come up here to brood on the rooftop by yourself, staring out across the city, and you expect me to believe there is no melancholy in your soul?" Sunset asked.

"Would you have me get to the point?"

"Not if you wish it otherwise," Sunset said softly. "I… I confess I often find the way that you meander to your points to be quite beautiful. Like a riverside stroll to get to the picnic."

Pyrrha smiled slightly at the compliment, even if the thing she was being complimented on was perhaps not a thing to be proud of. "I was just thinking," she said, "that the age when a city could fit in the space that would now only be large enough for a train station was the age when a great hero, a prince of warriors and men, could do such deeds upon the battlefield that the city of such modest size would stand or fall upon their efforts."

Sunset's voice was soft. "I thought you were the one who thought we won?"

"We did win," Pyrrha said. "But without General Ironwood's army-"

"Without us, General Ironwood's army would never have known what was coming," Sunset pointed out. "And without us, they wouldn't have had time to get into position before the grimm escaped the square." Her ears drooped down yet further into her fiery hair. "One grimm was able to kill five people," she whispered. "Just think what the toll would have been if… if there had been no one to stop them from getting up out of the tunnel, if they'd been free to get into the streets before the Atlesians troops arrived."

"We owe our friends a great debt of gratitude," Pyrrha said. "Yang, Nora, Ren; Arslan, Team Wisteria, Team Bluebell, though we have not been so close."

"Sky," Sunset murmured.

"Indeed," Pyrrha whispered. "May the winds be his wings and carry him to heaven where the gods will feed him nectar and ambrosia."

"Mmm," Sunset mumbled. "So your problem is that we didn't do enough by ourselves?"

"I… I suppose you could say that," Pyrrha agreed. "Without the Atlesians, the city would have fallen."

Sunset was silent for a while. She turned her back upon the city before them and leaned back upon the wall and rail as she thrust her hands into her pockets. "Yes," she relented. "Yes, I daresay it would have. But the Atlesians were here, and the city did not fall."

"And I am glad of it; I rejoice in it," Pyrrha declared. "But if… if armies are necessary, if only an army and all the panoply of war that an army carries with it like a snail carrying a house on its back, can save a city or a kingdom, then what purpose huntsmen?"

"Not every battle can be won by an army," Sunset pointed out. "Not every situation can withstand that sort of firepower being thrown at it. Some situations require a little more finesse." She paused. "The greatest hero of my home is a librarian," she declared.

Pyrrha's eyebrows rose. "A librarian?"

"Well, she's also a princess," Sunset said, which might have seemed to take some of the wind out of her point except that she hastened to add, "but she lives in a library and, to my understanding, acts as the librarian… when she isn't saving the world."

"Your world requires saving?" Pyrrha asked, wondering to herself why, that being the case, Sunset had felt the need to come here to Remnant.

"From time to time," Sunset said softly. "It's less a question of continuous, low-level jeopardy such as we live with here and more long stretches of absolute peace punctuated by the occasional peak of intense peril. You can decide for yourself which is preferable. In any case, the great hero of my home has sufficient leisure to live and work in a library, and to… well, to enjoy a life of leisure otherwise alongside her companions: a farmer, a baker, an aspiring sports star, a dressmaker, and a… a caretaker of animals."

Those descriptions sounded vaguely familiar to Pyrrha, but she couldn't exactly say why. Instead, her voice took on a fond tone as she said, "I think that you are the one who is meandering towards her point now, Sunset."

Sunset chuckled. "Ah, but am I doing it beautifully?" she asked. "My point is that not every situation requires nor can bear an army. Some situations require a hero."

"In your world, perhaps."

"In this world, too," Sunset insisted.

"Such as?"

"An army cannot defend a village," Sunset said. "Armies require too great a concentration of resources, they have too much interdependency, and there are too many villages which may be in need."

"And for such tasks we are suited?" Pyrrha asked. She frowned at herself. "That sounded sharper and more arrogant than I intended. I… I sounded… I did not mean to sound so proud, and yet… could I have sounded any other way? Perhaps I am simply too proud and disgruntled in my pride to find that I have been born too late for my ambitions."

"You have been born too late," Sunset said, "though in your manners and your gentleness, to my mind, rather than your ambitions."

The Evenstar, that gleams late as the darkness closes in. Even my epithet proclaims it.

"And yet," Sunset went on, "I did not mean to insult you, and I am sorry if you took it that way. I would never-"

"I know," Pyrrha said quickly. She sighed. "I just… I have no cause to be vain, now of all times."

"'Now of all times'?"

"You… you have all been good enough not to say so," Pyrrha said quietly. "But Ruby is lying in that hospital bed because of me."

"How do you figure that?"

Pyrrha let out a bitter laugh. "Is it not obvious? I was the one ensnared by that… that grimm, whatever its name may be, I was the one who caught in its clutches."

"So was I," Sunset reminded her.

"Because you tried to save me!" Pyrrha cried. "If I had been stronger and faster, then-"

"Like you should have been stronger and faster against Cinder?" Jaune demanded.

Pyrrha gasped, her scarlet sash flying around her as she turned to see Jaune standing in the doorway, his blue eyes, usually so kind and gentle, close to glowering at her.

He had reason to glower, she conceded, for all that she did not like the sight. Not only had she put Ruby in the hospital through her incompetence, but she had also… she had come very close to breaking her promise to him. So close that the extent to which she might be said to have not broken her promise might seem like mere semantics.

They hadn't talked about it yet. The time had not been right, beneath Mountain Glenn or in the desperate fight to hold the Breach, for obvious reasons.

But it seemed that they were come to the time now.

"I, um, I should probably… does anyone want some coffee?" Sunset asked, with much faux-cheer in her voice. She straightened up, her hands falling out of her pockets. "Great! I'll just-"

"You can stay, Sunset," Jaune said softly.

"What if I don't want to?" Sunset asked.

"I want you to hear this," Jaune insisted. "You're our team leader, so I want you to understand this as well."

Sunset sucked in a sharp intake of breath. "Okay," she muttered, but that didn't stop her sidling away from Pyrrha.

Jaune's eyes didn't follow her, remaining fixed on Pyrrha. For her part, Pyrrha looked down and played with her fluttering sash awkwardly with both hands. She said nothing, waiting for him to speak.

"You made me a promise, Pyrrha," he said.

Pyrrha looked up, and into his eyes. "I did not break it," she whispered.

"No?" Jaune asked, taking a couple of steps towards her. "Fighting Cinder without me, what was that?"

Anger hardly seemed to suit him. He had a face made for smiles, and a voice for laughter and kind words; a thunderous visage seemed almost to deface his features. Nevertheless, Pyrrha did not look away, knowing that she had deserved thunder. Her excuse sounded feeble even to her own ears as she said, "I didn't send you anywhere."

"Don't play with words, Pyrrha!" Jaune snapped. "I deserve better than that… don't I?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said quickly. "Yes, you do, of course you do. I…" She clasped her hands together in front of her. "I was afraid."

"'Afraid'?" Jaune repeated, taking another step towards her. "Afraid for me? Pyrrha, I thought you were the one who believed in me-"

"I do!" Pyrrha declared. "Have I not proven that? I've let you fight your battles, try your strength-"

"Against lone grimm, against low-level White Fang," Jaune said, "but when it comes to a serious fight against Cinder, you tell me to stand back and wait!"

"Do you expect me to let you fight Cinder alone?"

"Of course not, but we could have fought her together!" Jaune yelled. He glanced at Sunset for a moment. "I know that I'm not as strong as you are, Pyrrha; Sunset, I know that I don't have your magic. I know that the biggest contribution I can make to this team is with my semblance, but that doesn't mean that I… I'm still your partner, I'm still a member of this team, and I…" He paused for a moment. "It's not that I don't understand why you wanted to fight Cinder by yourself. Believe me, I absolutely get it."

"I know," Pyrrha whispered, because she believed him. She believed that, in this, he understood her better than Sunset did, and not just because Sunset was blinded by her affection for Cinder, but also because Jaune understood, as Sunset perhaps never had – for all that she was a faunus – the feeling of being powerless. It was novel to Pyrrha, less so to Jaune unfortunately, but Jaune understood how it could torment you, gnaw at you, mock you.

She loved him for the fact that he didn't say it out loud, and didn't need to throw her inadequacies in her face to make his point.

"But I… I'm starting to think that you don't really get why I asked you to make me that promise in the first place, if you think that not literally sending me away is enough to keep it," Jaune said. "I thought you did, you told me that you did, remember? After Salem's visions-"

"I told you I was a girl of my word," Pyrrha murmured, glancing guiltily away. "And upon the letter of my word, I stood."

"But not the spirit of what I asked of you," Jaune reminded her. "I told you, down in Mountain Glenn, that if anything happened to you… that I didn't want to live knowing that I couldn't help you. When Cinder had you on the ropes while I was just standing there, how do you think I felt? How stupid, how pathetic, how useless do you think I felt? How angry do you think I felt with you for putting me in that position? When I heard you scream, I thought that I might lose you-"

"And what of that?" Pyrrha demanded. "As a… as a girlfriend, I… you could find a dozen others who can offer you all that I can and more."

Jaune's eyes widened. "Is that what you really think?"

Pyrrha looked at him. "Is it not so? Ruby-"

"I don't love Ruby," Jaune declared. He covered the remaining distance between the two of them, and his expression softened as he reached out and gently rested his fingertips against her cheeks. "Even if… even if that were true, then… then none of them would be you."

Pyrrha looked up into his face, the face from which so much of his anger had drained away, the eyes that were soft again and filled with compassion… and with a degree of exasperation yet. No doubt he thought her very dense for not understanding.

It was better to be thought dense than to be thought malicious, especially since she had not set out to be malicious or disingenuous.

She wanted nothing more than to put her arms around him, to lay her head upon his chest, to melt into his embrace. She thought that it might be easy to do so, so much of his annoyance having ebbed away already. But it would not be right; at least, not before they had resolved this matter that lay between them.

"I… I promised that I would not send you away, because I thought that it was the guilt that you feared," Pyrrha murmured. "The guilt of… of not being strong enough, that I didn't think you strong enough. I suppose that, by telling you to wait, I laid that burden of guilt upon you nonetheless, and I am sorry for that, but I… am I not also allowed my fears? If Cinder had cut you down while you fought at my side-"

"Then you could find a dozen guys who can offer you all that I can and more," Jaune said.

Pyrrha frowned. "That's not funny, Jaune."

"No," Jaune agreed. "And it wasn't funny the first time, either."

Pyrrha winced and glanced down. "I don't know… I cannot promise to watch you die."

"But you've asked that of me already," Jaune said, and though his tone was gentle, his words pricked at Pyrrha's heart like daggers.

"Since you've kept me here listening to this with mounting embarrassment," Sunset said, "although, I accept that I should have teleported away some time ago, because why you asked me to stick around is just becoming increasingly baffling, but since I am here, perhaps I might offer an observation?" She paused, possibly waiting for objections that did not come. "I understand where you're both coming from. You fear one another's deaths, you fear what would become of you if the other one died, you're afraid to compound the pain of loss with the guilt of 'what if.' What if you'd been stronger, what if you'd been faster, what if you'd done this instead of that, what if you'd done anything at all?" Her tail twitched from side to side. "Guess what? That's not unique to you. Not by a long way. Maybe it's more pronounced for you both when it comes to the other, because you love each other, but you think that I don't feel it too? You think that I don't fear to lose you – or Ruby, for that matter?

"But this is a dangerous life that we've chosen, and that's the point. We… we chose this." Sunset looked away for a moment, her ears drooping down. "I will do whatever it takes to make sure that you don't die, I will do whatever I can, whatever I have to do, whatever is within my power to make sure that you survive, to the last drop of my strength. But in the end… in the end, the only thing that I could do to make absolutely certain of your survival would be to pack you away from Beacon and send you home to your mothers." She mustered a slight twitching upwards of the corner of one lip, though it did not reach a level deserving to be called a smile. "Neither of you want that, I take it."

"Indeed not," Pyrrha murmured.

"Well then," Sunset said. "If you aren't both willing to quit, then you're both going to have to accept that there is some level of risk involved for the other, as well as for yourselves, otherwise… you know, I'd say 'otherwise, this isn't going to work,' but let's be honest, you could break up, and it still wouldn't work as long as you still cared about one another on some level. So what's it going to be?"

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. Sunset could be headstrong and heedless, but she could also speak with great wisdom, so long as the thing she was talking about was not something which stirred her into passions too great to be ruled by reason. In this case… in this case, she was quite correct.

She had not sent Jaune away in Mountain Glenn, but she had pushed him away nonetheless, and now, she saw that she had been very fortunate not to push him all the way away. If she did it again, if she continued to treat him like this, then she would undermine any claim that she could make to believing in him, and she would… she would push him so far away that he would not return. She couldn't tell him on the one hand that she wished to see him flourish as a huntsman and then on the other seek to shield him from all danger as though he were a helpless innocent in need of her protection. Yes, there would be battles too difficult for him, and when those moments came, then she would be there without hesitation… but she could not do so as his protector. That was not what he wanted, that was not a relationship of equals… and what kind of relationship could they have if she did not see him as an equal?

If he died… even the thought of it made Pyrrha shudder in Jaune's grasp. If he died, her heart would crack in two, the prospect alone threatened to bring tears to her eyes. She thought of Lyra and Bon Bon and how badly they had taken the loss of Sky Lark; if anything happened to Jaune, then that would be her… but it seemed that if anything happened to her, that would be Jaune, also.

She didn't understand why. She could hardly comprehend her good fortune, but nevertheless, it seemed that fortune had blessed her, and so, if she wanted to remain blessed, then she had best reform her conduct.

While he was still willing to be patient with her.

Once more, her eyes found his, and Pyrrha held her gaze there. "I know," she said, in a voice that trembled slightly, "that I did not keep my first promise as you wished I would, and for that, I am sorry. I cannot promise that my behaviour will be perfect in the future, or that you will have no more cause to be upset with me ever, but… but I will make you a new promise, and I vow to you that I shall try to keep it: that so long as we stand on the same battlefield, then I shall never fight without you."

Jaune stared down at her. His fingers shifted across her face, brushing at the gold chains that hung from her circlet as his palms descended upon her cheeks, resting gently upon them. "That," he whispered, "that is what I… that's probably what I should have asked for in the first place, isn't it?"

Pyrrha said nothing, but smiled brightly up at him.

Jaune smiled too, a bright smile that illuminated his eyes. "Never without?" he asked.

"Never without you," Pyrrha affirmed.

And then he kissed her, his hands still upon her face, cupping her cheeks as his face descended towards hers, their lips meeting.

Ordinarily, the sensation of the kiss was enough to whisk Pyrrha away, banishing her from the world and its concerns – or banishing her concerns away from her. But now, though the kiss was as wonderful as it ever was, there was a part of her, at least, that lingered amidst her fears and doubts, a part of her which thought, which feared, which knew that it was not enough. That she was not enough. That together, they would not have been enough.

Jaune needed to be treated as an equal, or she would lose him, and in truth, they were equals: equals in unpreparedness for what lay before them. She would need to be so much stronger, so much more than she was now if she was to truly be never without him.

Or she would lose him in a way far worse than a bitter break-up.

 

[RedWolff]

Wow @ScipioSmith you've really hit a lot of emotion buttons with this latest chapter. It really brings a lot of weight and maturity with their conversations. I take it the scene is also related to this pic scene too?

SAPR: Pyrrha and Sunset Shimmer (CM) by Seshirukun on DeviantArt

www.deviantart.com

 

[ScipioSmith]

Evenstar​

Terri-Belle Thrax bowed. "Thank you for seeing me, my lady."

"When the Warden of the White Tower comes to my gate, how can I not open it?" Lady Nikos asked in reply. "I take it from your dress – and the fact that we are hardly close – that you are here upon some official business?"

"I am, my lady," Terri-Belle said, straightening her back as she rose from her bow. She was not armed – there was no call to take a spear to call upon Lady Nikos in her home, and in any case, it might have alarmed the people to see her striding around the streets of the higher slope armed for battle – but she was armoured, in linothorax cuirass and pteruges, to demonstrate that she was not here not just as Terri-Belle Thrax, daughter of the Steward of Mistral, but also as Warden of the White Tower, her father's right hand and commander of the Imperial Guard.

"Indeed," Lady Nikos murmured. "Well then, Lady Terri-Belle, will it please you to come into my study, where we may talk in private?"

"It would indeed, my lady."

"And will you take refreshment, also?" Lady Nikos asked as she began to turn away, her long gown of emerald green trailing after her. "I often take a repast at around this time, if you would care to join me."

Terri-Belle bowed her head. "That would be most welcome, my lady."

"Iris!" Lady Nikos called out to one of the maids who waited beside the grand staircase, "Tea and pastries in my study, for myself and Lady Terri-Belle."

The maid bowed. "At once, my lady."

"Please, Lady Terri-Belle, follow me," Lady Nikos said as she began to ascend the stairs.

Terri-Belle followed after her. She could easily have outstripped the head of the Nikos family, whose movements were hampered by her injured leg, the limp which was becoming more pronounced by the day at present, but to have done so would have been rude in any circumstances, and especially in Lady Nikos' own house.

Plus, Terri-Belle would not have known where she was going; she had not called upon Lady Nikos in her home before, still less been to her study.

And so, she slowed her steps and made sure to walk behind her noble host, betraying no sign of impatience as they climbed the grand staircase and walked through corridors lined with antiques, relics of Mistral's noble past and of the part that the House of Nikos had played in that same past through the centuries.

Fortunately, she was very practiced at this; her own father moved rather more slowly than she did nowadays, and she had learned from necessity how to slow her steps.

They came at last to Lady Nikos' study, a small and confined space, bounded upon one wall by shelves of old leatherbound books piled high, one upon the other, reaching from floor to ceiling; and upon the other side by a wall of testaments to the greatness of Lady Pyrrha.

What Lady Pyrrha herself thought of such a thing, Terri-Belle could scarcely imagine; she did not know the Nikos heir very well – Terri-Belle was a full ten years older than Pyrrha – but she seemed modest and unassuming. That could have been part of her public persona, but if so, it was a very good performance to which she was very committed.

Lady Nikos, clearly, was more traditional; Mistralians did not believe in hiding their lights beneath bushels.

And it was not as though she had no reason to be proud; her daughter's accomplishments spoke for themselves, so why not speak of them further, and at great volume?

Lady Nikos' gown trailed across the floor as she walked behind an ebony desk, upon which rested various mementos, curios, and the like. She sat down, gesturing with one pale hand for Terri-Belle to take the seat on the other side of the desk.

Terri-Belle did so, adjusting the great horn that she wore at her hip so that it rested lightly upon her lap instead of getting wedged between her thigh and the arm of the chair.

There was a knock upon the door behind her, and the maid entered bearing a tray in her arms, containing a porcelain teapot decorated in the Mikawachi style, two teacups and all the other accoutrements similarly decorated, and a plate of pastries that looked soft and warm.

"My lady," the maid said softly, setting the tray down upon the table.

"Thank you, Iris; you may leave us now," Lady Nikos said.

The maid – Iris – bowed and withdrew, shutting the door behind her.

Terri-Belle began to rise.

"Remain seated, Lady Terri-Belle; you are a guest in my house," Lady Nikos declared as she herself got up and poured the tea into the porcelain cups. "Do you take milk? Sugar?"

"Neither, my lady, thank you," Terri-Belle replied, and received her cup of steaming black tea from Lady Nikos' outstretched hands. She took a sip. "Exquisite quality," she pronounced.

"Would you expect anything less?" Lady Nikos asked.

"Of course not, my lady; I meant no offence," Terri-Belle assured her. She glanced at the wall full of commemorations of Pyrrha's triumphs. "Will there soon be another item to celebrate what they are calling the Breach? Or is it there already and my eyes have missed it?"

"There is not," Lady Nikos said. "I must confess, I am not sure there is much in the Breach, as it shall be known, to celebrate."

"The deliverance of a city?" Terri-Belle suggested. "In my experience, my lady, victory in battle is always to be celebrated. With so much at stake, we cannot afford to be precious about the manner in which the victory was won."

"Nevertheless, the mere fact that Pyrrha was present at such and such a place does not accord it a place of honour on my wall as by right," Lady Nikos said. "I celebrate Pyrrha's accomplishment, I glory in them as if they were my own, but I am not aware that my daughter accomplished anything at the Breach beyond being there."

"I am not aware that she disgraced herself," Terri-Belle murmured.

"The mere fact of not disgracing herself will not add lustre to her name," Lady Nikos responded.

"That is not the mood within the city," Terri-Belle said. "In many quarters, the mere fact that Pyrrha Nikos and Arslan Altan were present at the Breach is sufficient to make them heroes of the hour."

"You ask me to substitute the judgement of the general for my own?" Lady Nikos asked.

"No, my lady," Terri-Belle said, "although I must say that it has pleased my father to encourage the idea of Pyrrha's heroism – and Arslan Altan's, but especially that of the Princess Without a Crown – as a check against unnecessary alarm. When news of the Breach broke… although it happened far away, that news footage of the grimm swarming up out of the ground was very distressing. That distress might not have been enough to bring a horde to our doors, but after our experiences of a few months ago, I hope you understand why we were not anxious to take the risk of a grimm resurgence. So many huntsmen are still scattered throughout the territory, and…"

Lady Nikos sipped at her tea while she waited for Terri-Belle to finish. When the daughter of the Steward did not continue, she leaned forward. "And, Lady Terri-Belle?"

Terri-Belle frowned. "I trust that anything I say to you will be in confidence, my lady?"

"I am not accustomed to wild gossip, Lady Terri-Belle."

Terri-Belle hesitated for a moment. "Many huntsmen are late returning from their missions," she said, "and the number that are overdue home is increasing. Even some of my own guard are amongst them."

Lady Nikos frowned. "I have heard nothing of this."

"For obvious reasons, we are not keen to trumpet the fact," Terri-Belle said. "Lionheart says there is nothing to be concerned with-"

"I am not sure I would trust Lionheart if he told me the sky was blue," Lady Nikos muttered.

"Having had the benefit of his instruction, I fear you are correct; he was never much good that I can remember," Terri-Belle muttered. Father should have dismissed him years ago.

She would not say that aloud to Lady Nikos – she would not speak ill of her father's choices to an outsider thus – but she had asked him to do so as early as her graduation from Haven. Yes, the system appeared to have been set up to make it deliberately difficult to replace a headmaster – not only did not it require a unanimous vote of the rest of the Council, but appointments and dismissals also required the unanimous consent of the other headmasters, allowing them to protect one another if they chose – but it was a fight that Terri-Belle believed her father could have won, albeit at the cost of a great deal of energy and political capital. Her father was not minded to spend either unless he had to, preferring to conserve both for political emergencies. And besides, as he had explained to Terri-Belle, there were advantages to a headmaster whom no one like or respected, who belonged to no faction and who could have no political ambitions of their own: it made him malleable and dependent upon those who could protect him from his critics.

Terri-Belle was not certain that advantage was worth the cost of having such a man at the head of Haven. Small wonder that their brightest star had preferred Beacon.

"If they do not start returning soon, then I shall have to go myself and look for them," Terri-Belle declared.

"On the reasonable assumption that something or someone has delayed them, that could be perilous, Lady Terri-Belle," Lady Nikos said.

"What other choice do I have, my lady? To send others in my place?" Terri-Belle asked. "And if they do not return, what then? Search parties to seek out the search parties? No, my lady, if something preys upon our huntsmen, then I will master it, man or beast. I am the Warden of the White Tower. And I will not cower behind the city walls and ask another to do what I would not."

"And if you do not return?" Lady Nikos asked.

"Then I have three sisters to carry on the line of Thrax, and take our father's place upon the Steward's chair in time," Terri-Belle said. She hesitated for a moment, drinking the last of her tea and setting down the porcelain cup. "Although, my lady, I must say that I could depart – both from Mistral and, if need be, from this world – if I knew that Mistral would be defended by a stout-hearted champion in my absence."

"Ah," Lady Nikos said. "I think you come at last to the reason for your visit, Lady Terri-Belle."

Terri-Belle looked her squarely in the eyes. "Lady Nikos, when Pyrrha came home for the vacation, I offered her a position in the Imperial Guard. Was it Pyrrha's idea to mobilise a vast array of the great and good against the notion, or yours?"

"Mine, of course, Lady Terri-Belle," Lady Nikos said. "Pyrrha might have refused you, but she would not have made the refusal quite so… final."

"'Final'? I hope not, my lady," Terri-Belle said. She paused. "My lady knows that I am not a fangirl; I speak only of the good of Mistral, which is to me the highest good in all of Remnant."

"Of course, Lady Terri-Belle," Lady Nikos replied. "Fortunately, the abdication of my family has freed me to consider other goods, besides that of Mistral."

"More personal goods, perhaps," Terri-Belle muttered. "And yet, I must admit that I am somewhat mystified, my lady; what with the White Fang attacks, bombings, robberies, and now this? Vale appears to have descended into chaos, not to mention was completely unable to defend itself against attack-"

"You will permit me to wonder aloud, Lady Terri-Belle, if we would have done any better than the Valish when faced with a similar situation and no Atlesian aid in sight," Lady Nikos murmured.

Terri-Belle chewed upon her. Lady Nikos' words cut like a sword because they could not be easily refuted. Mistral, unlike Vale or Atlas, did not have a standing army, and the processes by which an army could be raised, either by seeking contributions from the noble families or else a mass levy of the citizenry, were ponderous and slow moving. In such a situation as Vale found itself, without any Atlesian assistance closer than Argus, Mistral might well have been overrun.

"I daresay we would have given good account of ourselves," Terri-Belle said stubbornly, but it was a childish stubbornness, born out of the lack of a real response. What was the point of giving a good account of oneself if you still lost, if you not only perished but allowed the city to perish also? Mistralian culture was not above celebrating a glorious death, even as part of a glorious defeat, but there had to be at least somebody left alive to celebrate.

And besides, Terri-Belle had never much cared for those kinds of stories.

"But we were fortunate, my lady, that we did not come under attack, and if destiny wills it, so we shall not," Terri-Belle went on. "My lady, with the Vale in its present state of disorder, there are many who believe that all our Haven students should come home, and our Mistralian sons and daughters with them. That question, and how we may better prepare our own city so that we are not caught in so shameful a position as the Valish, are ones that will be taken up in open court in a few days' time."

Lady Nikos' eyebrows rose. "'In open court'? That is… anachronistic, wouldn't you say, Lady Terri-Belle? The Council-"

"Is not the city," Terri-Belle said. "Why should my father constrain himself to listening to the opinions of four other men, one of whom is Lionheart, when he may hear the wisdom of all our notables and worthies?"

"Does the Lord Steward intend to do what the majority think best, or take what he deems the best advice?" Lady Nikos asked.

"I cannot say, my lady," Terri-Belle admitted. "If my father had plans that he could share with me in advance, there would be small point in an assembly, would there? I hope, for all that you are removed from the need to hold the good of Mistral as your guiding star, that you will attend the court."

"I will not stay away," Lady Nikos declared.

"I am glad to hear it, as will be my father," Terri-Belle said. Once more, she took pause. "If you announce that you are bringing Pyrrha back to Mistral, it will have a great effect in court, and in the streets, the people will rejoice to have their princess home."

"And if I say otherwise, it will likewise have a great effect?" Lady Nikos asked, with a somewhat arch tone as if she already knew the answer.

Terri-Belle sighed. "My lady, do you really believe that your daughter is safe in Vale?"

Now, it was Lady Nikos' turn to fall momentarily silent. "Do not mistake me, Lady Terri-Belle; the question has preoccupied me since news of the White Fang attacks reached us here in Mistral. You must not think that I am so dazzled by the thought of Vytal crowns that I would cast aside my daughter's life in the pursuit of one. It is only the fact that Pyrrha's survival was reported widely that enables me to be so calm. Thought I that there was worse to come than this, I might give ear to your arguments. But it appears that the White Fang, although unchecked for too long, have been comprehensively defeated, and I cannot imagine that there will be another grimm attack on such scale so hard upon the first. I did not think they fell so regularly."

"Hordes rarely come in quick succession," Terri-Belle conceded. "They tend to drain the areas they pass through of grimm, so that if they are defeated, a period of calm will often follow as the numbers of the monsters are diminished."

"Then is it not a little late to fear and to talk of bringing our children home?" Lady Nikos asked.

"My lady knows this sentiment has been building up for some time," Terri-Belle said. "For many, this is the last straw."

"And yet, it seems the horse has bolted, so why slam the door?" Lady Nikos asked. She sighed. "In any event, it is not my decision. Only Pyrrha can decide whether she stays or goes, and I think she will desire to stay."

Terri-Belle's eyes narrowed. "You are her mother."

"And she has defied me once already, to take up with a Valish boy," Lady Nikos said.

Ah, yes, Terri-Belle remembered that now. She tried to rise above the gossip of the gutter press, but her sisters had found the whole thing fascinating; as, to be fair, had great swathes of Mistral. The Princess Without a Crown, dating some Valish nobody.

Terri-Belle hoped that they knew what they were doing; the tabloids could be as monstrous as any creature of grimm, and far less forgiving of error, in her experience.

"Will you at least allow me to speak with her, my lady, and put the question?" Terri-Belle asked.

Lady Nikos nodded. "You may ask, Lady Terri-Belle," she agreed, reaching into a drawer in her desk and taking out a scroll. "I do not believe you will succeed, but you may certainly try."

XxXxX​

Pyrrha slipped one hand into the crook of Jaune's arm and clasped her other hand over it, leaning ever so slightly against him as they walked back towards the door down off the roof and into the hospital.

Her scroll began to go off.

Pyrrha frowned slightly. "I'm sorry," she said to both Jaune and Sunset as she pulled her arms away from Jaune and fished her scroll out of one of the pouches at her belt. "It's my mother," she said as she saw the caller ID when she opened the device. "Excuse me a moment." She turned away from Jaune and began to step lightly back towards the edge of the roof as she took the call. "Good afternoon, Mother," she said, calmly and without a great deal of emotion.

She was… she would scarcely have known how to speak to her mother at the best of times. After the way that her mother had treated her – and treated Jaune – over the vacation, they had… come to an understanding as to the limits of the interference in her life that Pyrrha would tolerate, and on the basis of that, Pyrrha had let her mother back in. But they hadn't spoken since Pyrrha had dictated terms, and that conversation had occurred before the mission to Mountain Glenn that had… it might not have changed a great deal in real terms, but Pyrrha felt differently than she had before.

To a great extent, she felt worse.

She hardly felt in the mood to speak to her mother at the moment. She had no idea of either what to say or how to say it.

"Pyrrha," Lady Nikos said, looking up at her from the screen of the scroll. "I… would like to speak to you," she said, which seemed a strange thing to say when, after all, she had already indicated as much by calling, but then she went on, "however, there is a visitor who would like a word with you first."

The scroll displayed an image of Mother's study, evidently as the device itself changed hands, passing across the ebony writing desk before displaying the hard, angular face and grey eyes of Terri-Belle Thrax.

"Lady Terri-Belle?" Pyrrha asked.

"Lady Pyrrha," Terri-Belle replied, bowing her head in acknowledgement. "I am glad to see that you have survived the recent struggle. All of Mistral rejoices that you live."

"You flatter me so much, Lady Terri-Belle, that I must conclude it is deliberate," Pyrrha murmured. "I doubt that my death would attract much notice."

After all, she was not much more than a performing seal to those who cheered her performances in the Coliseum. No matter what fate befell her, she would swiftly be forgotten and replaced by who or whatever came next to capture the public heart and imagination.

"You humble yourself so much, Lady Pyrrha, that I would conclude that it were artifice, had I a more suspicious nature," Lady Terri-Belle replied. "You are the Evenstar of Mistral; in you, the valour and skill of our kingdom of old stand reborn. You are the Princess Without a Crown, adored and celebrated in the city and in the lands beyond. In you are united skill, birth, grace, virtue – or at least the appearance of virtue – and, dare I say, beauty. If you were to fall, if your star were to be snuffed out… then so many hearts in Mistral would be broken in two that I fear it would bring the grimm upon us. For that reason alone, I am glad to see you alive. For that reason, I would see it stay that way."

Pyrrha sucked in a sharp intake of breath. "You want me to come back to Mistral."

"Your mother tells me that you will refuse me," Terri-Belle said, with a touch of wryness entering her voice.

"My mother does not always know me as well as she believes," Pyrrha declared, "but in this, she is correct. I… I do not want to go."

Terri-Belle was quiet for a moment. "What is the situation in Vale? I have watched the news, of course, but I would appreciate your view from on the ground."

"The White Fang suffered heavy losses in their attempt to breach Vale's defences," Pyrrha said, although Terri-Belle doubtless already knew that; it had been trumpeted about quite loudly as a benefit – if it could be called that – of all this. "Their leader, Adam Taurus, is among the dead, and they have lost or used up all of the dust that was stolen from Vale, and the Atlesian military equipment that they had likewise seized."

"Stolen Atlesian military equipment?" Terri-Belle said. "You are better informed than the news by far."

Pyrrha cursed herself mentally. She hadn't considered what was publicly known and what wasn't; she had spoken without thinking, so stupid of her. Her throat felt very dry. "Um… I, uh-"

"We know people!" Jaune yelped, as he came to stand by her side. "That is to say that we, uh, we have friends amongst the Atlesians, they… they tell us things! I mean, um… I beg my lady's pardon for the interruption."

"Sensitive things?" Terri-Belle asked, her eyes narrowing. "It's Jaune Arc, isn't it?"

Jaune swallowed. "Yes. Yes, it is, my lady."

Terri-Belle stared up at him. "You beg my pardon for the interruption."

"Yes, my lady."

"You should have said that before you said anything else," Terri-Belle pointed out, not without some amusement in her voice.

"My apologies, my lady," Jaune said, "I meant no offence."

"And 'Lady Terri-Belle' will do," Terri-Belle added. "My lady would be my mother, if she yet lived." She looked at Pyrrha. "Did you teach him all this?"

"No," Pyrrha murmured evenly. "That was my team leader, without my knowledge."

Terri-Belle snorted. "You sound less than enamoured with the notion, but you should appreciate it. If you bring him back to Mistral with you, whenever you return to Mistral, then you will be glad if his courtesies can pass muster."

"I would prefer if people accepted that my romantic life is none of their business," Pyrrha replied, her voice sharpening.

"And I would prefer a kingdom safe from bandits and grimm alike, but that doesn't seem very likely either," Terri-Belle declared. "So, you think the threat of the White Fang has passed?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said, and sincerely too; while Cinder remained at large and might yet plot further mischief, her sword had shattered in her hand with the destruction of the White Fang; even if the survivors were inclined to listen to her still, their numbers were reduced beyond the capacity for serious harm. "But, just in case, General Ironwood is bringing in reinforcements from Atlas."

"I see," Terri-Belle said. "So you think the Vytal Festival is safe to proceed? You think it is appropriate to proceed under the circumstances?"

"I think…" Pyrrha trailed off for a moment. 'Appropriate'? How could she answer that? Why should her opinion on what was or was not appropriate matter any more than Jaune's or anybody else's?

Because I am the Princess Without a Crown. I am the Evenstar of Mistral. I am the Invincible Girl. How she hated it. Those names had always been a burden, but now, they seemed like mockery. Terri-Belle told her that Mistral looked to her, that hearts would be broken by her death, that she was the flowering of Mistral's valour and skill, but what skill? Skill that could not defeat Cinder? Skill that could not save Vale? Skill that could not save herself from a single grimm but had to be saved by Ruby's silver eyes?

What a weak reed was she, on which to hang the hopes of a kingdom.

And yet, hang they did. And so, that being the case, since she could not cast off such burdens, the only thing to do was become stronger to bear them better, but… but she could scarcely see how. It was not as though she could acquire power out of the air or unlock some secret power within her.

So, then, what could she do?

I can answer the question, at least. "I think… I think that Vale needs this festival, lest the year become nothing more than the grim events that have gone before. This city deserves a little entertainment, after so much hard work has been put into it and especially since these attacks."

Terri-Belle's face was expressionless. "And what of the political situation?"

"I'm afraid I couldn't say," Pyrrha murmured.

"Your Atlesian friends don't tell you that," Terri-Belle grunted.

"They don't know any better than we do, Lady Terri-Belle," Jaune said.

Terri-Belle ignored him. "Lady Pyrrha," she said, "once before, I urged you to stay in Mistral. I offered to make you a huntress, to give you a place of honour in the Imperial Guard. Once more, I extend to you the same offer: come home, to Mistral, where your people need you. I will benefit from your strong arm at my side; Mistral will benefit from its beloved hero safely home where all can see you-"

"Are you asking me to come home and be a warrior, Lady Terri-Belle, or a prop?" Pyrrha asked.

"I am sure that you are talented enough to play both roles, as necessary," Terri-Belle replied without missing a beat. "I will not keep you from the battlefield, if that is what you fear, but you must understand that your name and fame alike will always mean that you have value beyond the number of grimm that you can slay."

The value of an empty vessel, nothing but what others wish to see in me; I have no more value than that.

Pyrrha held her scroll in one hand. The other hung down by her side. She felt Jaune slip his hand into hers and squeeze her own hand gently.

Pyrrha glanced at him. She had value to him, at least, and could not forget it, lest she drive him away. She looked back at Sunset, hovering uncertainly behind her, seeming to not want to interfere. Pyrrha had value to Sunset as well, and… and to Ruby, down in the hospital.

"I cannot," she said as she looked back down at her scroll.

"Cannot or will not?" Terri-Belle asked.

"Either, or both," Pyrrha answered. "I have responsibilities here that I would not forsake, and I have friends here I would not do without."

"I would beg you bring your friends to Mistral, where you might finish your studies at Haven, but it is by no means certain that the Haven students will return," Terri-Belle conceded. "This is your last word? You will not put duty before your own desires?"

"I have other duties besides to Mistral," Pyrrha declared, "and they demand me here."

Terri-Belle was silent for a moment. "It seems your lady mother was correct. Very well then, Lady Pyrrha. If the Vytal Festival goes ahead, and if Haven students participate in it, then I shall probably cheer on my alma mater… but I wish you good fortune nevertheless."

"Thank you, Lady Terri-Belle," Pyrrha murmured. "That is very generous of you."

Once again, the scroll showed her mother's study as it was handed over. Terri-Belle's voice emerged unseen. "Lady Nikos, I wish you good day. I will not detain you further."

"Good day, Lady Terri-Belle," Lady Nikos said. "One of the maids will show you out."

"I am sure that I can find the way quite well, my lady," Terri-Belle said before there was the sound of a door opening and shutting again.

Pyrrha found herself looking down upon her mother's face.

"Mother," Pyrrha said softly.

"Pyrrha," Lady Nikos said. "I am… very glad to see you well," she admitted. "When I saw… I am very glad to see you."

Pyrrha found herself blinking very quickly. "Thank you, Mother; I… I am very glad to be here."

She did not want to die. Or perhaps it was better to say that she had not wanted to die. She had thought that, when death came, perhaps she could face it stoically, like the heroes of old, that she could accept death as the ending of a life well-lived, that she could content herself with having given her life in a worthy cause, perhaps inspiring others to take up the struggle in her place.

But when the moment had come, when the grimm had her in its grip, its unbreakable grip, when it had been squeezing her, when Sunset had been powerless to help her, when it had seemed that there was nothing anyone could do to stop the grimm from shattering her aura and breaking her body, then… then all of that had fallen away. All the comforting illusions had seemed then like so many falsehoods and all that she could think about was how she did not want to die. She didn't want Sunset to carry her circlet home to her mother, she didn't want to be remembered as a hero of Mistral, she… she didn't want to die. She wanted… she didn't know what she wanted, but it was not death. Not yet. Not for so long yet.

That was why Ruby had to wake up: so that Pyrrha could tell her how grateful she was.

Lady Nikos nodded. "Mister Arc, I see that you, too, are well, and for my daughter's sake, I suppose I should express my gratitude for that. Miss Shimmer, is she-?"

"She's here, Mother," Pyrrha said, turning to Sunset.

Sunset stepped forward, her ears drooping down into the midst of her hair. There were dark lines beneath her eyes as she bowed her head. "My lady. I apologise that I did not contact you sooner; I have been… distracted, and remiss in my distractions."

"So long as you have not been remiss in battle, Miss Shimmer, then I see nothing to complain of," Lady Nikos said. "I am glad that you, too, have survived this… event."

"We protected each other," Pyrrha said.

"Indeed," Lady Nikos replied. "And Miss Rose, what of her?"

Pyrrha winced. "Ruby is… Ruby was… injured," she said.

Lady Nikos' brow furrowed. "Badly?"

"We all hope not," Pyrrha replied. "Although… she has not woken since."

"I will pray for her," Lady Nikos promised. She paused. "You were more involved in these events than you told Lady Terri-Belle, were you not?"

"Mother, I don't know what you-"

"I am not a fool, Pyrrha," Lady Nikos said sharply. "Perhaps you do have friends amongst the Atlesian forces, but I do not think they would spill secrets to you without a cause. And besides, you spoke to me, abruptly, as if you were concerned that… that you would not later have time to do so. And then a great battle is fought in Vale, and you are present for it. And not for the first time, either. What has Professor Ozpin involved you in?"

Pyrrha glanced at Sunset, and then at Jaune, hoping that one of them would devise a clever lie to extricate them all from this situation.

"My lady, we shall not insult your intellect with denials," Sunset declared, "but I fear we are not at liberty to say more. It is… a matter of honour."

"I see," Lady Nikos murmured. "Well then, if it is a matter of honour, then I shall not pry further, except to say that I dislike what I know, and dislike the idea that I may not know more even more." She fell momentarily silent. "I understand what you said to Lady Terri-Belle. I agree that the threat from the White Fang and the grimm are less now than they were before. And yet, there is a part of me that would bring you all to Haven for the next three years, safely in Mistral, where the White Fang and the quiescent and Professor Ozpin are far away. You are my heir, Pyrrha, my sole heir and the last hope of my house; Miss Shimmer, I think that you are a girl of great promise, one of whom I have grown rather fond; Mister Arc, I am afraid that I cannot say that I am fond of you, but Pyrrha has found it in her heart to… to love you," she said the words as though they stuck in her craw and had to be pried out, "and would grieve your passing or your injury.

"In our culture, we prize bravery above caution, honour above care, the greatness that will linger in memory above life itself. For it is in passing that we achieve immortality; a noble death, they say, will elevate the memory above all others, however more long-lived they may be. But you are the last of your line, Pyrrha. If you die young, the House of Nikos will die with you, for I… I have given Mistral a red diamond of unsurpassed brilliance. I would not have it lightly thrown aside. I would not be left to linger out my last years in a house whose future has been stolen away. Miss Shimmer, Sunset Shimmer, I would not hear that all the potential I have seen in you has turned to ash. Mister Arc, I know what it is to lose love before the time for loss; I would not have Pyrrha know that pain as I did.

"As a true Mistralian, and a lady of the House of Nikos, I should urge you all in the language of the Mistraliad 'fight well and be superior to all others.' But… but as a mother, I find myself urging you only to be one another's shields, that you all may live another day."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Penny for Your Thoughts​

"Thanks for coming, both of you," Rainbow said as she led them down one of the metallic corridors of the Valiant. "Penny's really going to appreciate seeing you both."

"It's no trouble, really," Pyrrha replied. She was following directly behind Rainbow Dash, while Sunset trailed behind a little. "It's the least we can do for a friend."

"Even so, she's still going to appreciate it," Rainbow said over her shoulder. She stopped outside a door which looked, to Pyrrha's untrained eyes, just like many other doors that they had passed on the Atlesian warship: a sheet of undecorated metal, poised to slide open to admit them. This door did not slide open, however; it remained resolutely shut, despite how close they were to it.

Rainbow leaned against the wall with one elbow, her hand hovering near the black keypad mounted alongside the door. "The door is locked to stop anyone from coming in and seeing Penny… you know. I have the code; I'll unlock it to let you in. Once you're done, you can leave; it's not locked from the inside; Twilight can show you out to your airship."

"You aren't coming in with us?" Sunset asked as she moved from behind Pyrrha to standing alongside her.

Rainbow did not reply, nor for a moment did she make any move to actually open the door. Instead, she glanced down at her feet, and then looked back up at the pair of them. "I… I was assigned to Penny; she didn't choose me. She didn't choose any of us. She chose you girls," she said, looking more at Sunset than at Pyrrha as she said it; something had changed between those two since Mountain Glenn, although Pyrrha didn't know exactly what had changed and didn't feel able to pry.

Nevertheless, something had changed; they seemed… closer perhaps; certainly, all of the antagonism – even the mock, playful kind – seemed to have gone out of them. That would have been a good thing, except that it was accompanied by a certain sense of dour melancholy afflicting at times both Rainbow and Sunset. Pyrrha, who was no stranger to degrees of dour melancholy herself, supposed that they were downcast by the results of the battle.

She supposed that she could understand that. Many people were downcast by the results of the battle. She… it might be hypocritical to say so, but she thought that they were asking too much of themselves. It was one thing to hold yourself to high standards, as she did, but another to ask the impossible. She had not wished to die in the dark, but her near death at the hands of that grimm, whatever its name was, did not dismay her nearly as much as her failure to defeat Cinder in combat for that very reason.

The loss of a comrade was always to be regretted, and the loss of six lives was a tragedy for all connected with them, but when one considered how large was Vale and how much, how many lives, had been at stake, it was impossible, for Pyrrha at least, not to conclude that they had won a glittering victory. Not one that would be attributed to any of them or their skill, true, a victory that would adorn the brows of the Atlesians and their technological prowess, but a splendid victory nonetheless. In years to come, when they spoke of men's great triumphs over the grimm, the Breach would stand alongside Ozpin's Stand as a day when mankind had stood against the tide of darkness and turned it back decisively.

It was a pity that neither Sunset nor Rainbow seemed able to see that.

It was not about the glory; it was more than Pyrrha's hope that it was not; she genuinely did not believe that either of them were so vain that they would find disconsolation in a victory merely because they had not been rewarded with sufficient praise and recognition for it. No, it was the loss of life, if anything, that weighed upon their shoulders.

Unfortunately, and perhaps this was a cowardice in her, she knew not how to take it away without exposing herself to a charge of callousness.

"I'm going to be a friend to her while she's away from you," Rainbow said. "I'm… gonna try to, anyway. But you two… Pyrrha, you and Ruby have always been there for Penny, from the moment you met her, you've been the friends that she needed and that… the friends that she can't believe she has in her own team because of… how this team came to be. Thank you, Pyrrha, and if Ruby doesn't wake up before we go, make sure to thank her for me as well, won't you?"

"No thanks are necessary," Pyrrha replied. "It was my pleasure, and my privilege, and I'm sure that if Ruby were here, she would say the same. You don't need to thank me for something that has brought me great joy."

"Yeah, I do," Rainbow said softly. She glanced at Sunset. "And Sunset… I'm still not sure that I believe this whole not-human thing, but if it is true-"

"It is," Sunset insisted.

"Then what are you doing here?" Rainbow demanded.

Sunset folded her arms. "I'm the last survivor of a dead planet, sent here by my mother to be a light to inspire mankind to greatness."

"Really?"

"No!" Sunset snapped. "How long have you known me? Do I seem like the kind of person who could inspire others?"

"You've inspired me," Rainbow said softly.

Sunset's mouth opened, but no words emerged. Her mouth hung open momentarily, like a puppet with a broken hinge, before she looked away. "Well… I'm not. If anyone was going to turn out to be sent by some otherworldly force to inspire everyone, it would be Pyrrha."

"You give me too much credit by a great distance," Pyrrha murmured.

"Well… whatever you are," Rainbow said. "Penny… it's meant a lot to her that you told her that, so thank you too. Though I hope you're prepared to give some details, because she's going to ask, and unlike me, she's going to be persistent about it." She paused. "So if you could tell her the truth-"

"I will," Sunset promised, not mentioning that she had already shared the truth with Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby, and Blake.

Rainbow nodded. "I appreciate it. So the answer to your question is no, I'm not coming in with you. I'd only get in the way – I'll give Penny some time alone with the people she wants to spend time with – and besides, I need to finish writing my report for General Ironwood. I'm not sure that he'll like it, but hopefully, he'll appreciate my… honesty."

"What do you mean to tell him?" Pyrrha asked, wondering what Rainbow might have to say that might upset General Ironwood.

"That we shouldn't have been there," Rainbow said calmly. "That the mission should have been assigned to a specialist squad, not to first-year students."

"I think you do us a disservice," Pyrrha murmured. "We were chosen for a reason."

"It doesn't mean the reason was good," Rainbow replied. "I know we did the best we could-"

"And Vale survived," Pyrrha pointed out. "With very little blood shed."

"With more experienced personnel, it might have been no blood shed," Rainbow said. "That's what I think, anyway, and that's what I'll say in my report. You don't have to agree with me, and neither does the General, but I owe it to Penny and Ciel to put it on record and tell the General that I think he made a mistake."

"Professor Ozpin believed that we were ready to join this fight," Pyrrha insisted.

"And do you still believe him?" Rainbow asked.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. It was not the Mistralian way to refuse an honour offered or done to one, and as much turmoil as Professor Ozpin had sown within her heart when he told her the truth of what was going on out in Remnant, as much as he had sown fear and uncertainty in her, she yet believed that the headmaster had done her – had done them all – great honour by choosing them to be part of his latter-day circle. To be chosen to possess secret knowledge denied to other men, to be chosen to stand as a champion of light against the darkness, to be chosen by the defender of the world to be a soldier in his silent war, that was honour indeed, a testament to their skills and to their virtues both alike. Yes, Cinder had escaped her grasp, yes, she had been in peril of her life, but at the same time…

"I am not sure that anyone else could have done better than we did," she murmured, although she did not mention that that fact was as much cause for trepidation as for rejoicing.

"Well… I'm glad you feel that way," Rainbow said, seeming to take Pyrrha's words as much more enthusiastic than she actually felt. "Anyway, I… I'll leave you alone with Penny."

"Thank you," Pyrrha said. "And I hope that your report doesn't get you into too much trouble."

Rainbow grinned. "I'll be fine," she reassured Pyrrha before typing in some numbers onto the keypad next to the door, her fingers moving too quickly for Pyrrha's eyes to follow and make out the combination.

Not that she needed to. It wasn't as though she was planning to steal her like a thief in the night, after all.

And even if she had been, getting through the door would have been the least of her worries.

In any case, the door slid open; Rainbow stood to one side, out of sight, while Pyrrha led the way inside, followed by Sunset.

On the other side of the door – which slid closed behind them with a hydraulic hiss – was a clean, polished, and shiningly metallic room. All of the blades of Floating Array had been placed side by side upon a long workbench on the right-hand side of the room as Pyrrha entered, while various notes and diagrams and schematics were pinned to a board above the bench. On the far side of the room, opposite Pyrrha, in the left-hand corner, was another bench with a computer terminal and – the one untidy element in the room – papers spread out higgledy-piggledy across the surface. Twilight sat there, her back to the terminal, although she got to her feet when they came in.

And in the centre of the room lay Penny, laid out upon the bench, her hands by her side, as still as a corpse laid out for burial – or perhaps autopsy would be the more appropriate comparison, considering the circumstances and the fact that she was, somewhat disconcertingly, completely naked.

It was like looking at a child's doll, with all the… absences that that implied.

Only in Penny's eyes was there any difference from corpse or doll, for her eyes still moved, still looked, still seemed to brighten a little as Pyrrha and Sunset entered. "Pyrrha. Sunset," she said, in a voice that was deep, male, and rather devoid of emotion – especially for Penny. "You came."

Pyrrha's brow furrowed beneath her circlet. "Penny?" she asked. "Is… is that you?"

"My speech centre is still disabled, but Twilight connected me to the computer so that I could speak through it," Penny explained. "I'm sorry that I don't sound like myself, but at least I can talk to you."

"No need to apologise, Penny," Sunset said, stepping out from behind Pyrrha. "These things happen. I remember one time, when I was a kid, I got really sick – really stay in bed sick, and my throat, not only did my throat kill me, not only did it feel like I was getting stabbed every time I swallowed anything, but my voice dropped a whole two octaves at least, and I sounded like this." For those last few words, she forced her voice downwards into a sort of croak.

"Haha," Penny said, "but I'm not sick."

"No," Pyrrha agreed. "But you were wounded in battle, and that is not a thing to apologise for. Rather, I feel as though I ought to apologise for being taken by surprise; as you say, it's good that you can speak to us." She tried to keep her eyes on Penny's face, but it was a little difficult when she was… "Um, that being said… Twilight… why does Penny need to be, um…" She gestured at Penny's unclothed form.

Twilight let out a squeak of embarrassment. "Sorry!" she exclaimed. "I had to take her clothes off in order to conduct a thorough physical exam, and then… well, I was there when Penny was created, so it doesn't seem strange to me. But I should have thought. Sorry." She grabbed a sheet from under her desk, telekinetically summoning it up into the air where it unfurled like a banner before descending upon Penny to cover her up from the neck down. Twilight's hands glowed with a soft lavender light as she smoothed out the blanket. "There, is that better?"

"Yes, thank you," Pyrrha murmured. Apart from anything else, it made it much easier to lock eyes with Penny and to keep her gaze fixed upon Penny's gaze – or at least on Penny's face when Penny's gaze wandered to Sunset or anyone else. She approached the bench, her hands clasped in front of her. "How…?" Despite the fact that Penny was no longer exposed, Pyrrha could confess to herself that she yet felt a touch of uncertainty regarding what to say. Never before had Penny's nature as a robot seemed more intrusive to her. She couldn't even be sure of the wisdom of so innocuous a question as 'how are you?' Could Penny even feel anything at the moment?

Calm down. Don't overthink it – as hard as that might be for you. Just talk to her like you would to anyone else.

After all, that's why she likes you, because you treat her just like… well, because you don't treat her any differently.

Pyrrha crouched at the knees, bending down so that she no longer loomed over Penny quite so alarmingly. "How are you doing, Penny?"

Penny was silent for a while. "Is Ruby going to be okay?"

"We think so," Sunset said.

"We hope so," Pyrrha murmured.

"Okay, yes, we hope so," Sunset conceded. "But we hope… we hope with good cause." Her tail twitched. She sighed as she ran one hand through her red-and-gold hair. "It's true that I don't really understand how Ruby's magic works, but we know that it isn't some power that Ruby came into overnight. This is something that was passed down to her through generations of Silver-Eyed Warriors, warriors who were once celebrated in song and story for all that they have largely been forgotten now, warriors including Ruby's own mother, whose words we have. We know that she used this power without taking permanent harm from it, we know that others before her used this power; it stands to reason that Ruby can use it too, without… I don't know why it's done this to her – inexperience, maybe – but nothing that I know, nothing that we know, suggests that this is permanent. Ruby will come back to us. We just have to be… patient, it seems."

"I'm glad to hear it," Penny said.

"You're also dodging the question," Sunset pointed out, her eyes narrowing.

Penny fell silent. Her eyes, the only part of her that could move, flicked from side to side, looking at neither Sunset nor Pyrrha.

"Penny?" Pyrrha asked.

"I hate this," Penny admitted. "I wish that I could speak to you in my own voice. I wish that I could hug you. I wish that Ruby were here."

Pyrrha reached out and put a hand on Penny's sheet-covered shoulder. "We all wish for all those things, Penny."

"I don't even feel that," Penny said in what Pyrrha thought would probably have been a tone of lamentation if she had been able to put any tone into her voice at all. "I wish that I could. I wish… I wish that I wasn't such a disappointment. Such a failure."

Twilight frowned. "Penny, no one thinks that-"

"Penny does," Pyrrha said gently, "don't you?" She frowned in turn. "It doesn't matter if no one else thinks that way; it doesn't matter if everyone continues to hold you in the highest regard. Maybe we are our own worst critics, but that doesn't make the criticism any less real, does it?"

Penny's eyes widened. "But you can't possibly feel that way, Pyrrha."

"Can't I?" Pyrrha asked. "But you can?"

Penny was silent a moment. "I was created to save the world."

"And that has been my destiny, my dream, since I was old enough to understand what destiny meant," Pyrrha replied.

"What it might mean," Sunset muttered.

Pyrrha ignored that. "You're not the only one who failed underneath Mountain Glenn."

Penny looked into Pyrrha's eyes. "Is this about the tunnel? I heard… I mean-"

"Rainbow told us what happened," Twilight murmured apologetically.

Pyrrha winced. "Well… what happened down there was… certainly less than ideal," she conceded, "and I am… I regret that Ruby had to put herself in that condition saving my life, but… no, that is not what vexes me most about what happened beneath the city of the dead."

"No?" Penny asked.

"No," Pyrrha agreed, shaking her head. "Whatever that grimm was, it was… rather large, probably very old, and undoubtedly rather powerful. If Ruby hadn't been with us, I'm not sure what we would have done… but I must confess that I'm struggling to think what any huntsman or huntress would have done." She smiled, if only a little. "Except, perhaps, for you. With your laser cannon, you're perhaps the only one of us, the only huntsman that I can think of, who might have stood a chance against that beast."

"But I wasn't there," Penny said, "because I had already been taken out by some guy."

"You were taken by surprise," Pyrrha argued. "At least you weren't stymied in single combat, the one thing that you are supposed to be supremely good at-"

"Are you two really going to stand or lie there arguing about which one of you sucks the most?" Sunset snapped. Her gaze was sharp, and her ears were pressed down angrily into her hair. "You..." – she took a deep breath – "you are both idiots! And that's saying something, coming from me!"

Pyrrha looked at her, and as she looked at her, she straightened up, her hand leaving Penny's shoulder. "Sunset, I-"

"And you were the one who pointed out that we won!" Sunset added.

"Well… yes," Pyrrha murmured. "But that doesn't mean that I can't be disappointed in myself."

"Why, because you didn't beat Cinder?" Sunset said. "Did it ever occur to you, when you were lamenting that your vaunted prowess did not enable you to carry all before you like a tidal wave swamping the shore, that you probably don't get to be Salem's champion if you're not pretty damn handy in a fight yourself?"

"I'm not a fool, Sunset," Pyrrha said, in a tone of soft rebuke. "I didn't expect to defeat Cinder easily."

Sunset snorted. "If it helps at all," she said, "I doubt that Cinder is crowing over her victory. If she even considers it a victory at all. She was expecting you to be a pushover, you know."

Pyrrha's eyebrows rose. "A… a pushover."

"That's… one of the reasons why she hates you," Sunset informed her. "She thinks that you're-"

"Hollow," Pyrrha whispered. "A name, and someone who owes everything to that name, someone with more wealth and unearned prestige than actual ability."

A moment of silence descended on the room.

"How did you know that?" Penny asked.

"She wouldn't be the first," Pyrrha declared. Even Arslan had believed it so, once upon a time. "Usually, I prove those who think such things of me wrong in a far more decisive fashion."

Sunset rolled her eyes. "It's nothing to beat yourself up about."

"I am the Champion of Mistral," Pyrrha said proudly. "I am… I am the Invincible Girl."

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "I thought you didn't like that name."

"I… I liked the fact that I had never lost a battle."

"You still haven't," Sunset pointed out.

"Perhaps that is so, but it is no longer true that I have won every battle, is it?" Pyrrha replied.

"You are my best friend," Sunset said, "but you'll forgive me if my heart doesn't bleed for your injured pride in this particular instance. And you," she added, looking at Penny, "yes, you've been injured. I'll even concede that you have been injured badly, and that being what you are, being injured is… a little harder on you than for the rest of us. But look at this." She pulled up her purple tunic to reveal the scar on her belly from where Adam had stabbed her. "You remember where I got this?"

"On the train," Penny said.

"On the train," Sunset agreed. "On the train, saving Twilight. And I'll carry it with me for the rest of my days, a token of his esteem. Ruby nearly got cut in half and would have died on the docks if Jaune hadn't found his semblance at just the right time, you remember that too?"

"Yes," Penny said, "but I don't understand-"

"It happens to the best of us," Sunset said firmly. "It happened to Ruby, it happened to me; now it's happened to you as well. About the only person that it hasn't happened to is the Invincible Girl over there who is busy pounding on herself because she's only the Invincible Girl now, and not the Undefeatable Girl, what a tragedy!"

"Sunset," Pyrrha began.

"Do you have any idea how lucky you are?" Sunset demanded. "How lucky we all are? We faced death down there in Mountain Glenn: chills, that ursa thing, that even worse grimm with the bones, Adam Taurus, Cinder's team, Cinder, an entire grimm horde! We walked into a city of the dead, and we came out again. Every last one of us, and we got Applejack back, and we got Fluttershy back, and we fought a battle at the end of it on top of everything else!" Sunset's voice was rising in pitch, trembling with agitation. Tears started to prick at the corners of her eyes. "And we survived. You all survived, and yet, you have the gall to stand here and lie there and complain that you didn't win as hard as you wanted to, that you didn't live up to your own expectations. But you're alive. You are both alive. We are all alive, and that… that is worth the dinging of a reputation, don't you think? That is worth celebrating more than… more than anything else is worth mourning, right?"

"Practice what you preach," Pyrrha said softly.

"I may be a hypocrite, but that doesn't mean I'm wrong," Sunset retorted. She wiped at her eye with one hand. "Pyrrha, if… if anything happened to you, it wouldn't just be Jaune's heart that broke. And Penny… I admit that we don't know each other very well, but you've been a really good friend to Pyrrha and Ruby, and you're a sweet kid, and… and I'm glad that I have the chance to get to know you better."

She stepped forward, holding out one hand as she did so, and as she stepped forward, her outstretched hand glowed green, the green light of Sunset's magic enveloping Penny – sheet and all – to lift her and her covering, which wrapped around her like a hospital gown, off the bench and into Sunset's embrace. Sunset wrapped her arm around her, gloved fingers almost reaching up to Penny's hair.

A smile crossed Sunset's face, even as tears continued to form in the corner of her eye. She looked at Pyrrha, and her smile widened a little as she held out her free hand.

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment, before any resistance that she might have possessed crumbled in the face of Sunset's smile, the passion that was almost anger in her voice as she rebuked them both, the words spoken with, she had to admit, both head and heart. Any resistance that she might have possessed crumbled in the face of the fact that it looked rather nice and inviting over there. She leapt over the bench, her boots tapping on the floor as they hit the ground for a moment before she enveloped Sunset and Penny in her arms and felt Sunset's other hand upon her back in turn.

"Perhaps we can do this again when I can feel it?" Penny asked.

Sunset laughed, her whole body trembling. "Sure, Penny," she agreed. She bowed her head, resting her forehead upon Pyrrha's shoulder. "You're alive," she said, her voice a little more muffled now because of where she was. "You're alive, and that is worth so much more than your records or performances. That is… that is everything."

"As the General would say," Twilight said, before she cleared her throat and deepened her voice in a not particularly good impression of General Ironwood. "That you made a mistake doesn't say anything about you; what says everything about you is how you learn from it afterwards."

"That was terrible," Sunset said bluntly.

"I know," Twilight admitted. "I can't get my voice deep enough."

"But what am I supposed to learn?" Penny asked, as Sunset – releasing Pyrrha at the same time – levitated her back down onto the bench, still covered in her sheet.

"Well," Pyrrha said, walking past Sunset to the bench where Penny's swords, detached from her, were all laid out, "you were injured when Lightning Dust was able to shock you through the wires connecting you to your swords, correct?"

"That's right," Penny said.

"Hmm," Pyrrha murmured. "May I?" she asked, gesturing to one of the swords.

"I don't mind," Penny said. "Is it okay, Twilight?"

Twilight shrugged. "I don't see why not."

"Thank you," Pyrrha said softly as she picked up one of the blades from off the workbench.

It was longer than she was used to in a sword, much longer than Miló in sword configuration, as long even as her weapon in its spear form. She held it thoughtfully in one hand and then shifted into a two-handed stance. It felt natural in either one.

"These are fine swords," she said. "Do you know how to use them?"

"Of course," Penny said. "You've seen me using them."

"I'm not talking about directing them through the wires," Pyrrha said. "I'm talking about holding them in your hands. Do you know how to do that?"

She suspected that the answer was no, purely based upon the fact that she had never seen Penny do so.

"No. I've only ever trained to use the wires."

"The swords aren't designed for handheld use," Twilight said.

"Sunset, would you mind giving me some space?" Pyrrha asked. Sunset did so, retreating into the far corner of the room while Pyrrha flowed like water through several sword stances, rapidly moving from form to form, striking down imaginary enemies all around her. "The balance is excellent," she said. "The weight is tolerable, and the edge is sharp. These blades might not have been designed to be wielded, but whoever designed them knew too well what they were doing to produce an inferior weapon."

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," Twilight said, "They were Doctor Scarlatina's contribution. Amongst his many talents, he's also the finest bladesmith in Atlas. He probably couldn't design a bad sword if he wanted to."

Pyrrha set the blade down upon the bench. "If you had been facing Lightning Dust with a sword in your hands rather than blades upon wires, then any shock she might have inflicted on you would have been absorbed by your aura, the same way it would if she delivered me a shock through Miló. At present, it seems you're rather vulnerable against electrical attacks, but that wouldn't be the case any more. And you wouldn't be at such a disadvantage fighting in enclosed spaces. Something to think about when you get back on your feet."

Penny's eyes were wide. "You could work out what the problem was just like that? You're amazing, Pyrrha."

"Hardly," Pyrrha said. "This is very rudimentary. Have you found your semblance yet?"

"My father isn't sure that I have one," Penny said.

"If you have aura, then you have a semblance," Pyrrha said. "And you can unlock it with proper training." If she could unlock it then, depending on what her semblance was, it would be another way for Penny to protect herself or engage her opponents without having to rely solely upon her ability to direct her swords.

"Do you really think so?"

"Do you think that I would lie to you?" Pyrrha asked earnestly.

"No," Penny said at once. "Of course not. I'll keep trying. Thank you, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha smiled. "You're very welcome, Penny."

"Sunset," Penny said. "Can I ask you something?"

Sunset grinned. "Do you want to know what I really am?"

"Yes," Penny replied. "I'd like to know; if you're not human, then what are you?"

The smile remained on Sunset's face as she raised a hand and levitated a blank piece of paper up into the air beside her. Moving across the room so that she was once more within Penny's sight, Sunset twitched her fingers, and the paper began to fold, delicately and with great precision, fold after fold compounding upon one another until what had been a sheet of paper just a few moments ago had become, through no magic at all – save the fact that Sunset hadn't actually used her fingers – a perfect origami unicorn which settled in the palm of Sunset's hand.

"You can do origami?" Pyrrha asked.

Sunset glanced at her. "I can do anything that I set my mind to, Pyrrha," she said breezily before she showed the paper unicorn to Penny. "I," Sunset said, "am a magical unicorn from the land of Equestria."

"Really? You don't look like a unicorn," Penny pointed out, not unreasonably.

"No," Sunset allowed. "But that's because I travelled to this world through a magic mirror, and that magic turned me into this, so that I could fit in here amongst all of you."

"I see," Penny said. "So why did you come here?"

Sunset hesitated for a moment. "Because… because I wanted more," she said. "All my life, I felt as though I deserved more. So much more than they had planned. And so, I sought a place where I could make a life for myself. A great, splendid life, unbound and unbounded."

"That sounds wonderful," Penny said.

Sunset shrugged. "Well, it brought me here, so it wasn't all bad." She grinned.

"What's it like, the world you come from?" Penny asked.

"Equestria?" Sunset said. "Equestria is… Equestria is… where do I even start? Equestria is a very silly place, the sort of place where ponies decorate in hearts for no reason at all except because they can, the kind of place where songs break out in the streets just because one pony felt like singing and everypony else felt compelled to join in, the sort of place where… where the apples are always juicy and red, and the sun is almost always shining. I suppose you could say it's a picture book sort of world, like something out of a fantasy… except it's real. A world where unicorns wield magic just like mine, where pegasi control the weather and walk on clouds, where earth ponies can feel the rhythm of the land beneath their hooves."

"That all sounds so lovely," Penny declared.

"Yeah," Sunset murmured. "Yeah, it… it really is."

"I wish I could see it for myself," Penny said.

Sunset was silent for a moment, thrusting her hands into her jacket pockets as she looked down at the origami unicorn that she had made. She furrowed her brow. "You know," she said, "let me know when you get better, because it's possible, just possible, that I might just be able to make something happen."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Request and Revelation
​

I'm aware that this is quite a request on my part.

I mean, you could certainly say that, yes.

Although, in my defence, it is only two visitors; it's not like I want you to allow the whole Academy through the portal. However, in my prosecution, I should admit that I didn't consult with you or Princess Celestia when I probably should have before I told my teammates and Blake and Penny — and Penny must have told Rainbow as well, because there's nowhere else she could have found out — and your counterpart here in Remnant about Equestria.

Do you trust them?

I wouldn't have told them if I didn't.

Then I don't consider that a problem, and I don't think Princess Celestia would consider it a problem either. Your new request, on the other hoof, well, that's something else, isn't it?

Sunset ran one hand through her hair. Yes, her new request. The request that she probably should have made before she had spoken to Penny, but … well, she'd seemed so down, and after they'd gotten to talking about Equestria…

It seemed the right thing to do at the time. Although that doesn't mean much, it wouldn't be the first time that I've done what seemed to be the right thing at the time, only for it to turn out to be emphatically the wrong thing. However, as far as I can see at the moment, this not only seemed like the right thing at the time, but it still seems like the right thing.

Twilight did not reply. Not at once, not for some time. Not for so long, in fact, that Sunset began to wonder if something had happened to her; nothing serious, she hoped. Nothing serious, she thought; this was Equestria, after all; it wasn't likely that some masked home invader had burst into the library and taken Princess Twilight hostage — not least because they didn't have home invaders in Equestria, or guns for that matter. However, it was not beyond the bonds of possibility that Twilight had been called away on some urgent business — a summons from Princess Celestia telling her that she needed to put on a play or organise a reception for visiting ambassadors or save the world or something; Twilight's days seemed to consist of a mixture of such things — in which case, Sunset might be waiting for some time. Twilight might not even get back to her until tomorrow or later.

Still, Sunset sat. She was presently in the library, dark and silent, where the light above her kept intermittently going out because she wasn't moving around enough to trigger the motion sensors.

She had been spending more and more time here over the last few nights. She couldn't sleep, and she didn't want to disturb the others — only Yang was allowed to spend nights at the hospital with Ruby, since she was her actual blood-and-law kin; although they would have all liked to have spent at least some nights with her, it wasn't allowed — so she haunted the library in the middle of the night, reading or looking up pointless trivia on the computers, coming up with team attacks that did or did not make sense, depending on just how sleep-deprived and fogged over her mind was at the time — Pyrrha throwing Jaune with her semblance was not a good idea, and she would not be sharing it with the rest of the team. Sometimes, she fell asleep here; sometimes, she went back to the dorm room after midnight and collapsed into bed for a few hours before waking up to start the new day.

Even then, sometimes, she didn't sleep. Whether she slept or not, it made her feel no more refreshed than she had been before, no less tired; waking or sleeping, she was haunted by the dead.

They hovered around her, whispering in her ears.

Who is the other?

You're back.

I wasn't gone that long.

You were gone for a little bit.

Who is the other?

What do you mean?

You said that you only wanted for two people to come to visit Equestria; one of them is Penny, but who is the other?

Oh, yes. I think that Blake might get something out of it as well.

Really?

Really. Penny isn't the only one who had a rough time down in Mountain Glenn. To be honest, many people had a rough time down beneath Mountain Glenn, but Penny and Blake had it amongst the worst, and I think they would get something out of visiting Equestria that others would not.

Was it bad?

Sunset stared down at those three words. Was it bad? Was it bad when Blake had to fight the man she loved and watch him die?

Was it bad? Was it bad when Penny was broken, to all intents and purposes?

Was it bad? Was it bad when Jaune lost the ancestral sword, his connection to his heroic past?

Was it bad? Was it bad when Ruby got put into a coma saving the rest of them?

Was it bad? Was it bad when Sunset got six people killed?

Was it bad?

Three words. Three words which, however innocently meant and well-intentioned, seemed scarcely adequate to encompass everything that had gone on beneath Mountain Glenn, all that they had done and all that they had suffered.

Yes, is the short answer. As for the long answer, I scarcely know where to begin. We were not prepared.

You're not talking in physical terms, are you?

No. Would that I was. No, we were not prepared for what we would find down there, or for what it would demand of us to survive.

But you did survive.

Yes. Yes, we survived.

You don't really want to talk about it, do you?

No. Although that doesn't preclude the possibility that I should.

She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts, staring down at the page and at the words she had already written. What to say? How to go on? How much to explain? What to leave out? She decided to be very brief, to not go into too many details, to say only what was necessary to convey the harrowing nature of what they had been through down there underneath Mountain Glenn.

We came under repeated attack. Which would have been a little wearing but which we could have weathered, on its own. But it was not on its own.

Sunset breathed deeply. There was much of this that she did not want to say, and yet, at the same time, she felt that she ought to say it, not only in the interests of truth, but because … because Twilight was the only person to whom she could say some of it.

We met Salem under there.

You mean the Mistress of the Grimm? The immortal enemy?

The very same.

She was there supervising the attack herself?

No, I suppose I ought to clarify that it wasn't exactly her in person; it was a projection of her. She had a creature, like a crystal ball with tentacles sticking out of the bottom

Thank you for that mental image.

You should thank me, I haven't described the worst of it, nor will I. But the point is that she appeared to us in the crystal ball-like thing. She showed herself to us.

What was she like?

She looked like the corpse of a drowned woman.

Again, thank you for that mental image.

Trust me, it isn't any nicer for me to think of either.

She thought that possibly the only reason she wasn't having nightmares about Salem was that she was having nightmares about the six dead Valish instead. There was even an extent to which that was preferable.

She wasn't a pretty sight.

Evil seldom is, I must admit. Chrysalis gave me nightmares for a fortnight after my brother's wedding.

The changeling queen?

She has holes in her. Holes! As though she is starting to rot away, as though maggots and grubs are eating her up from the inside out. It's unnatural.

And, being unnatural, it is creepy and disturbing in equal measure.

Just like Salem, I take it?

That was not the worst part.

She took a deep breath. Her hand trembled slightly as she held the pen.

She got inside our heads. She played on our fears and our desires; she put the fear in us: in the Rosepetals, in Pyrrha, in Blake, even in Ruby. I didn't think anyone or anything could get to Ruby like that, but she reduced her to a huddled, sobbing mess on the floor with a few words.

I take it that they weren't just very well chosen words?

I would bet everything I own that there was magic at work.

To what end? I mean, why was she even doing that?

To delay us? To see what we were made of? For fun? I don't know what was in her mind, and I'm not sure that I want to.

And you?

And me?

Were you affected by her?

Sunset paused. She closed her eyes, screwed them up tight. She found her breathing becoming more rapid.

Yes. Yes, I was. I tried to hide it in front of the others, I even think I did a pretty good job of hiding it, but yes, she got to me. She threatened my friends, made me angry; at first, I was glad of it, for the anger gave me the strength to shatter her orb, and her power with it. She was gone, she couldn't trouble us any more — not that she's dead, you understand, the real Salem is still out there somewhere — but after the anger fled, there was only the fear. The fear of losing them. That was why, when Adam showed his face, I did something very stupid.

Go on.

I grabbed him and teleported him away so that I could fight him alone with no one else around me.

Yes, you're right, that was stupid.

Ruby was there; he already nearly killed her once.

Nearly killed you as well, something which I haven't mentioned to Princess Celestia.

An omission for which I am very grateful, believe me. I wouldn't want her to worry.

But you're fine with me worrying?

Do you worry about me?

It's the middle of the night; do you think I'd still be up writing to you if I didn't care?

Sunset hadn't considered that in any sense, a fact for which she felt guilty, now that it had been pointed out to her.

I'm sorry, I should have considered; go to bed, we can pick this up tomorrow or some other time.

It's fine, please, go on.

Obviously, it isn't fine, or you wouldn't have brought it up.

I'm more concerned with the fact that — as we established very early on — it's the middle of the night for you as well. What are you doing up so late?

I like the nights, I get my best thinking done at this time.

There was a pause before any reply came from Twilight.

Evidently, you survived Adam, or you wouldn't be writing to me, so what happened?

I fought him. I did better than he might have expected, but not brilliantly. I fear my luck was running out before Blake came to my aid. She fought him, and again, did well enough, but not brilliantly. The tide was turning in his favour before I killed him.

A few moments passed, absent any kind of reply.

I hope you'll forgive me if I don't congratulate you.

Believe me, I don't want congratulations. I know that I sought this. I know that I spoke to you about wanting it, and about the necessity to do it, but once the moment came, once I actually did it, I felt none of the joy or vindication that I had expected. I did what I had to do in that moment, to protect Blake, but it brought me no pleasure. It has brought me some glory, which would have pleased me once upon a time, but now, it does nothing for me. I killed a man, and that is no longer something for which I wish to be celebrated. I didn't take his sword, I didn't crow about it, I only took credit for it because I'd rather the White Fang came after me for revenge than Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune, or Blake. Blake saw him die, and before that, she found out that maybe he wasn't irredeemably awful after all. He had taken Fluttershy and Applejack — the human versions of Fluttershy and Applejack — hostage, and yet, he let Fluttershy go. Out of the kindness of his heart, or because her heart moved him to kindness, one of the two.

Is there that much difference? Fluttershy is an amazing pony — my Fluttershy, this — but I don't believe that she can create kindness in a heart that has no trace of such.

What about Discord?

Discord is actually a perfect example. Fluttershy didn't make him kind; she didn't banish evil from him and replace it with goodness. I don't think she even planted the seed of kindness in him. But she gave it room to grow; she watered it and shone the sunlight on that seed. I believe that any kindness Adam showed her was in him all along, however well hidden.

Sunset screwed her eyes tight shut for a moment. Should it be seven lives for which I feel guilty?

You'll forgive me if I don't pass that on to Blake. I doubt it would make her feel any better.

Or you?

That's less important, but no, it doesn't make me feel any better either.

I'm sorry, but I'm not sure that there's anything I could have said in this situation that would have made you feel better.

No. I think you're probably right. I much preferred when I could think of him as a mad dog.

It may bring you no joy, but I think that it might be better this way; perhaps you should remember this, before you decide you have the right to deal out death and judgement: that which you see of your enemies is not all that there is in them to be seen.

At the moment, it's Pyrrha who needs to learn that, not me. She is upset with herself that Cinder escaped her. Another one who has more to her than is seen by the world. She frightens Pyrrha the way that Adam frightened me, and in her fear, she seeks her death as I sought his. Like me, she sought to confront Cinder alone, unaided. Jaune was somewhat put out with her about that.

Is Pyrrha okay? I'm guessing you would have mentioned it earlier if she wasn't, but is she?

She is physically unharmed, which is more than can be said for Penny or Ruby; she believes that we won the battle, which is more than can be said for Jaune or Blake. She is probably the best of us, in terms of her condition; whether that alone allows her to rise to the level of being said to be okay is a question that is harder to answer. I wish that I could help them all. I wish that I could take their pains, even if it means taking them upon myself, I wish there was some spell that

Sunset paused for a moment.

Now, there's an idea.

No. No, there really isn't.

Sunset sighed. Unfortunately, you're probably right. If there was such a spell, it would probably have side effects, like causing amnesia or something.

I'll go further and say that amnesia would probably be the intent of this hypothetical spell, to make people forget their emotion, or the event that triggered it. That's not a route I recommend.

Is there anything that you do recommend?

You could talk to your friends as well as to me; instead of wishing that you could shoulder all their pain upon yourself, why don't you try and share it around all of you?

I don't think anyone is in the mood to talk about it.

I can understand that, but it doesn't mean they shouldn't. What about Professor Goodwitch, didn't she help Jaune deal with his problems after the battle on the train?

Yes. Yes, she did.

She could help again.

I trust her less than I did before I knew that she was a part of Professor Ozpin's network, but I will consider it. Will you at least consider my request?

Provided that it was carefully managed so that no one could accidentally find their way into Equestria, I would have no objections in principle, and given that you trust both Penny and Blake, I don't think that Princess Celestia would have any objections either. As for whether or not it can be done, I actually have an idea as to how that might be accomplished, and this will give me an excuse to put it into practice.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. You do? The practicalities were the obstacle I thought would be the hardest to overcome.

I actually need to credit Pinkie with this; I was discussing with my friends some time ago how, even if you wanted to come home to Equestria, it would be impossible since the portal between our two worlds is closed except at certain times. Pinkie pointed out to me that, although the portal is closed, our worlds are still connected via these journals that we communicate with.

So you can apply the magic of the journal to the mirror to enable it to work at will, while you can still use the journal to write to me any time when the mirror portal is not in use. That's actually quite brilliant; and that was Pinkie Pie's idea?

You'll forgive me if I don't dignify that with a response.

Sorry.

There was no need for me to see if it actually worked before now, although I'm pretty sure it will. What I'm not so sure of is how this will help Penny or Blake.

As for Blake: Equestria is a post-racial society, to all intents and purposes, having put aside old divisions and come together in a spirit of harmony and equality. I think it would do her good to see that such a thing is possible, even if it does take time and hard work.

I'm not sure about the extent of the comparisons between the three pony tribes and humans and faunus in Remnant, but I see your point. And Penny?

I think Penny would enjoy it.

Surely you could say that about any number of people?

Perhaps, but Penny was the one who said that she'd love to see my home for herself. And I think, sweet as she is, that she would enjoy it more than anyone else that I could think of.

I suppose that's as good a reason as any. As I say, I don't have any objections to the two of them, and although I won't claim to speak for Princess Celestia

You have as good a claim as any pony does to speak for Princess Celestia.

Nevertheless, I won't presume, save to say that I don't think she'll object.

Thank you, Twilight. I will pass that on, and I'm sure Penny will be delighted. I'll let you know when she's fit to travel.

And I'll let you know when the portal will admit her — and Blake. What do you think Penny will become on the other side of the mirror?

I really have no idea.

Neither do I, but it's fascinating to ponder, isn't it?

A moment passed, and then another, before Twilight continued.

I don't suppose we can expect you to pay a visit to Equestria with them? You could come as a chaperone.

They don't need a chaperone, or at least Blake will be a more than adequate chaperone for Penny. They might need a guide; can I ask you to take care of that?

I will do it, but so could you if you were inclined. You know that Princess Celestia would be delighted to see you. I'd kind of like to meet you face to face as well.

I mean no disrespect to Princess Celestia, and no insult to you, when I say that it cannot be so. I have not earned the right.

I see. You have not earned the right, well, that's quite understandable, isn't it? Are you ready to talk about yourself now?

Sunset frowned.

What do you mean?

I mean that it's the middle of the night, and you're still up with no indication that you were planning to turn in any time soon; you've mentioned what a rough time everyone had down in Mountain Glenn, but you haven't said much about yourself, you've talked about taking everyone else's burdens on your shoulders while glossing over your own, you just told me that you don't have the right to come back to Equestria, and even before that, you talked about things not working out the way you expected; now just what am I supposed to take away from that? What's going on, Sunset, what happened down there?

Once more, Sunset's hand trembled. Once more, she stared down at the page in front of her. She felt ice enclose its cold grip around her stomach.

And yet, if not to Twilight, then who can I confess to?

But her hand kept trembling as she began to write the words.

Adam is not the only death upon my conscience.

I'm sorry. Are these more enemies? All your friends are accounted for?

Neither friends nor enemies.

She hesitated, considering how she could even begin to phrase this.

Princess, what would you do if you had to choose between your friends and some kind of higher cause, higher purpose, that sort of thing? If you had to choose between the many and the few, but you knew the few and the many were strangers to you, what would you choose?

I chose my friends.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. Did she just…?

Come again?

Are you surprised that something like that could happen in Equestria?

Sunset could almost feel the heaviness behind each word; she could sense the weariness within them.

It doesn't seem like the kind of thing that happens in the land that I remember. Would you like to talk about it?

Are you enjoying this?

No. Not at all. Not in the least bit, not for a single moment. I just want to know if you want to talk about it. Truth to tell, I feel ashamed for wittering on about myself for so long and ignoring your burdens. I have been very selfish. I didn't even consider that you might be weighed down. I marvel that you've been so patient with me.

It's fine, really. I don't begrudge your desire for counsel. I know that my life is a great deal easier than yours, on the whole.

But would you like to talk about a time when it was not so?

There was a moment of pause, when no new words appeared on the paper, before Twilight's distinctive, elegant hornwriting resumed.

Tirek escaped from Tartarus recently. Did Celestia teach you about him?

No. But if he escaped from Tartarus, I'm guessing that he can't be anyone good.

He wasn't. He was a I don't suppose it really matters what he was. But he escaped, and he started consuming magic. All of it, from unicorns and pegasi and earth ponies alike, it was all the same to him. It was all power. Nobody could stop him, so Celestia, Luna, and Cadance gave up their alicorn magic to me so that I could hide it. Hide it or use it, if I had to.

Which, of course, you did.

Yes. He found me, and I fought him. I couldn't beat him, but he couldn't beat me either. We were at a stalemate, evenly matched, but when it came down to it, I traded all the alicorn magic in Equestria to him in exchange for my friends the moment that he took them hostage and threatened their lives. They even told me not to do it. But I did it anyway. I handed Equestria over to a monster because those girls mean everything to me. I'd give my life for them, but I don't think that I could live without them.

I know exactly what you mean. Believe me, I know exactly what you mean. Fortunately, the very fact that you are able to write to me implies some reversal in your fortunes.

Indeed, thank goodness. We were able to defeat Tirek; he could absorb all of our magic except for the magic of friendship that bound us together. That was how we beat him.

If only I could say the same.

I'm glad you're okay, at least. And Princess Celestia too.

But there really is no backing out now.

I had a choice of my own to make. The White Fang's plan was to load their army upon a train and use a great quantity of stolen dust to blow a way into the city itself. Cinder's plan was to have that train followed by a great horde of grimm — it was they, and not the White Fang, whom she trusted to overrun the defences of Vale and lay waste to the city. If we had known, or at least if I had known then what she intended, or if I had thought about it for long enough and not let the wild enthusiasm of Ruby and the others carry me off, I would have ordered a withdrawal from Mountain Glenn.

But I was not so wise, and we were so eager and so vain of our skill, and everyone else was so determined to do all they could and risk all that they were to save Vale that we boarded the train before the grimm pursuit began. With my magic, I reached the front of the train first; we planned to stop it in its tracks and make a barrier of it.

I reached the front of the train and found the detonator there. A detonator, at least, Rainbow — my Rainbow Dash — tells me there must have been another in Cinder's possession, but in any case, I found a detonator there. A detonator and Cinder's voice, informing me that all other exits out of the tunnel had been sealed off, there was no way out from underground except to use the detonator and blast a path into the city.

As I say, I had a choice to make: I could either guarantee the safety of the city in exchange for what seemed to me to be a certain chance that my friends would perish, or I could put the city at risk in exchange for increasing the chance that my friends would be safe.

And you, too, chose your friends, just as I did.

But I was not so fortunate as you. We won the battle, and the city was saved — but not without loss. As I said, I have more deaths upon my conscience than just Adam Taurus. The Atlesian military was alerted to the impending attack — by your counterpart, as it happens — but six people died nevertheless: five civilians and one of my classmates.

I'm sorry to hear that.

There was a delay before she added. Forgive me, I scarcely know what else to say.

You wanted to know what the matter was with me.

I did, and I thank you for telling me. It's just that now you have told me, I do not know how I should respond.

If you wish to condemn me, I will bear it.

No. No, I will not do that. I do not have the right. You chose your friends, as I did, I will not condemn you for being less fortunate than I, for not possessing the key to victory as I did, for not having access to a magic that would redeem all errors as I did.

Of course, that being so, I have no right to absolve you of your guilt, either. For we are guilty of the same mistakes, only I am preserved from consequence in ways that you are not.

You think your actions a mistake, then? And mine, too?

In truth, I know not. A part of me fears — and thinks, what is more — it must be so, but there are other parts of me that feel otherwise. Sunset, do you regret your choice?

No. I do not regret my choice. I regret the consequences that flowed out of my choice, I regret the deaths that resulted from it, but I would make the same choice again if I had to. I do not have it in me to condemn Pyrrha, Ruby, Jaune, Blake, or even Rainbow Dash to death. I do not have it in me. I am not made of such. And yet, though I do not regret the choice, nevertheless, like you, I fear it was the wrong choice. I am certain sure that it was not the choice of a hero.

Then it appears that we are neither of us heroes.

Oh, come on! I defy any biographer to tally up the number of times you have saved Equestria and then say that you are not a hero.

Is that all there is to call oneself a hero? Deeds? A tally of the number of times the world was saved? The number of foes vanquished? I think you know better than that; being a hero is a quality of heart and spirit

And you have both, or else Princess Celestia would not have placed her faith in you.

She placed her faith in you, once, yet that does not stop your self-reproaches.

Touché, and yet you cannot deny that you have walked the path with more success than I.

And yet, here we are. When Princess Celestia asked me to bear this charge, I declared that I was ready to do my duty as a princess of Equestria. Literally, my exact words as I stood in the throne room were 'This is the role I am meant to play as a princess of Equestria! I will not fail to do my duty!' Looking back at that moment, and those words, I almost want to cringe at the unearned pride and baseless arrogance on display. I was puffed up on destiny and the well-intentioned praise that Princess Celestia and Princess Luna and Cadance had all showered on me to convince me that I could do this.

Trust me, you aren't alone when it comes to unearned pride and baseless arrogance. There are things that I said and thought going into Mountain Glenn that, like you, make me want to cringe. I was so cocky, so confident, I told myself that I could defy anything that fate had in store for us, and I convinced the others of it too.

I thought that I had finally found my destiny, the reason why I had become a princess, the reason I'd been given these wings, I thought that this was what I was meant to do, the part that I was meant to play. Now

Twilight paused for a few moments before continuing the sentence.

I am not sure that it was so.

At least you can say that it is appropriate for a Princess of Friendship to choose her friends over the greater good.

I don't find that very funny.

Then it's a good thing I wasn't trying to be funny, isn't it? I was trying to offer some small comfort, although I do not say that I was doing well.

If that is what it means to be Princess of Friendship, then is a Princess of Friendship such a good thing for Equestria to have?

Yes, as it happens. How else was Tirek to be defeated? Destiny, it seems, moves in a mysterious way. You should take comfort from that.

In ways that you cannot?

It didn't all resolve so neatly for me.

She ran one hand through her fiery hair.

They haunt me, Twilight.

Who?

The dead, Sky and all the rest of them.

This feels like eavesdropping on the relatives of a patient in hospital.

Sorry, I impose too much.

It's not your fault, I just don't know what to say. I can't imagine anything like it. I'm sorry.

I'm not the one who deserves your sorrow.

Your friends know what you did, don't they?

They were right there, telling me not to do it.

And how have they taken the fact that you did it anyway?

We don't talk about it. Maybe we should, but they don't seem to want to, and I don't want to either. Perhaps it's better that way, as strange as it seems to suggest such a thing. Perhaps there is such a thing as too much honesty, and we can all go on pretending that it didn't happen. It's certainly easier than the alternative. Do your friends

No. Well, Rainbow Dash knows. She tells me that I shouldn't take it so hard. She tells me that Cinder wouldn't leave her plan to chance on the risk that I would choose not to detonate the mine. She thinks that my actions didn't change anything.

Have you considered that she might be right?

I have, but I don't see that it matters. Whether or not things would have happened the same way regardless of what I did, the fact remains that I did this thing, and other things resulted. The rest of my friends don't know, and they can never know; there's no way that they'd forgive me for it.

I should probably tell you to take the risk and be surprised by their capacity for forgiveness, but I don't have the right to do that either, as we've just discussed. But are you so certain of their reaction?

I am certain of Ruby's reaction, at the least. She would have condemned us all.

Forgive me, but that doesn't sound like an altogether good thing.

I agree with you, but, as we've already established, we're not heroes, unlike Ruby. Goodnight, Princess Twilight, I will not keep you up any more.

Will you at least try to get some sleep yourself?

I will try, yes. Goodnight.

Let me just leave you with one more thought: it's no bad thing to care about your friends, or to fear to lose them. You've come a long way, Sunset, don't forget that. Goodnight.

Goodnight, Princess.

She shut the book, and pushed it across the table away from her a little bit, and let out a long sigh as she threw back her head.

Contrary to what she had said to Twilight, she made no move to get up and go to bed herself. She didn't even try. She just sat there, staring up at the light until it turned off from her lack of movement, at which point, she was just sitting there, staring up at a dark ceiling, waiting … for what?

She had no idea.

The light switched on again, not just over Sunset's head but all around, the lights switching on leading towards the way into the library. Sunset looked around to see Pyrrha approaching, Pyrrha clad in her huntress gear, with the pale library lights reflecting off the bronze of her armour and the golden band around her arm and the circlet upon her brow. Her ponytail swung behind her ever so slightly as she approached, with her hands resting by her sides. Her footsteps echoed in the otherwise silent library.

Her brow was slightly furrowed, pinching her pale face as she walked towards Sunset.

"Did you know," she said softly, as if the library were full of people she feared to disturb, "that whenever you use your scroll to gain access to any part of the campus, it logs your location?"

"No," Sunset said, speaking equally softly as her hands reached out towards the magical journal. Her gloved fingertips touched the leather cover. "I didn't know that." She paused. "Why are you dressed like that? Up late training with Jaune?"

"No," Pyrrha murmured. "Although a few late night training sessions wouldn't go amiss, if I could find an opponent. As for Jaune, it's hard to train with a broken sword."

Sunset winced. "Has he decided what he's going to do about that?"

"Not yet," Pyrrha replied. "The point is that I put this on because … because it seemed appropriate, before going into battle."

"Battle?" Sunset repeated. "Who are you fighting?"

"You, I'm afraid."

"Me?" Sunset shook her head. "I wouldn't fight you, Pyrrha. I know better now."

"Sunset," Pyrrha said reproachfully. "I spoke to Professor Goodwitch because I wanted to know where you were going every night, why your bed was empty. She told me, from your scroll records, that you were coming here. Why?"

Sunset looked away. "I don't feel like sleeping."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters," Pyrrha insisted, her voice sharpening. "It matters because you know full well that if I were behaving like this, you would stop at nothing to find out what was going on and how you could fix it. Please don't be so arrogant as to assume that you are the only one who can notice a friend in trouble or do anything about it."

Sunset closed her eyes for a moment. "You don't need to help me, Pyrrha."

"You wouldn't let that stop you, either."

"That's different."

"No, it isn't, and you know it isn't," Pyrrha declared. "This is nothing to do with being team leader or not; this … this is a simple matter of friendship. What's wrong, Sunset? How can I help?"

Sunset did not meet Pyrrha's eyes. "Your offer is generous, but … I fear that you cannot. Just as I think that…" She trailed off.

If you did tell your friends the truth, they might surprise you.

No. No, I dare not.

"You know what's wrong," Sunset finished.

Pyrrha bowed her head a little. "May I sit down?" she asked.

"Be my guest," Sunset murmured.

Pyrrha took the seat opposite. She looked down at the book beneath Sunset's fingertips. "That is the book, isn't it? The magic book?"

Sunset nodded. "It is."

"And what does your princess say?" Pyrrha asked. "If you can tell me; I don't ask you to betray any confidences."

"I mainly talk to … my princess' latest student, or former latest student," Sunset explained. "Someone closer to my equal. To my princess, I speak somewhat less frequently. I believe she is well enough, although there were some disturbances recently."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Pyrrha said, "but glad that everything is better now."

"Things are usually settled fairly swiftly in Equestria," Sunset said. "Would that the same could be said here."

"Indeed," Pyrrha whispered. She fell silent for a moment, and then a moment more. "Sunset, misery and grief will not bring Sky and those other five poor souls back to life. Nor will it bring them any aid or comfort for you to … you must live. We all must."

Sunset raised one eyebrow. "I must confess I'm surprised to hear that from you. That seems … a very modern attitude."

"You have taken to Mistralian ways very well in some respects, but in this, you are more Valish, or Atlesian," Pyrrha replied. "In Mistral we do not mourn excessively. We … when my father died, almost as soon as his funeral was over, my mother rolled up her sleeves — metaphorically speaking, of course — and got back to work, managing her lands and portfolio."

"Some might find that callous," Sunset observed.

"Perhaps," Pyrrha allowed. "But how would it serve my father's spirit for my mother to sink into such a despond that the House of Nikos crumbled into rack and ruin?"

"Is that why you can be so cavalier with your own safety?" Sunset asked. "Because you do not expect Jaune or me or even your own mother to mourn excessively if we lost you?"

"We're not discussing me."

"Perhaps we should."

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. "I … my mother, at least—"

"Would die the death, the moment news of your death reached her," Sunset declared. "What would she have to live for, the future of the House of Nikos being stolen away, her line extinguished? As for Jaune and I, as you correctly point out, we are not Mistralian."

"Yet it would serve me not if you wept all your tears for me, if you sought hopeless battles, becoming heedless of your own—"

"We cannot always act based solely on what serves others best, not even the dead shades of our dear friends!" Sunset snapped, her voice rising. "We are ruled not always by our heads but by our hearts, our hearts that would be shattered by the loss of you."

Pyrrha met Sunset's gaze. "Is your heart shattered now?"

Sunset shook her head. "But my stomach is ill, and my head is guilty."

Pyrrha pursed her lips together before she spoke. "Death is not something to be sought after eagerly, but nor can it be escaped. It will come for all of us, and for a warrior, it will likely come swifter than for others. If we die ourselves with every loss that we suffer, then … we do not honour those who fell."

"If Jaune died," Sunset said, "would you roll up your sleeves — metaphorically, of course — on the day of the funeral?"

"That's a rather unfair question," Pyrrha murmured.

"Perhaps, for which I apologise," Sunset said. "And yet, at the same time, a rather pertinent question, don't you agree?"

Pyrrha glanced away. "I mean to see that he does not fall."

"That is not an answer," Sunset pointed out.

Pyrrha swallowed. "I never claimed to be a perfect Mistralian," she conceded.

Sunset could not restrain a laugh. "No," she admitted. "No, you did not; that is very well put. I will concede the point."

"I would rather you conceded my main point," Pyrrha said. "We must live, Sunset. For all that we have left to live for."

Sunset was silent for a moment. Pyrrha … Sunset was not a Mistralian, and yet, Pyrrha talked a great deal of good sense. It was, if truth be told and Sunset be honest, a more sensible attitude than some of the Mistralian pride and honour that Sunset had embraced with greater readiness. It felt like callousness, and yet was it not more callous that she would make again the choice that had condemned those souls to death? How did her not sleeping, or haunting the library, or anything else help the dead, help Sky or any other?

It wasn't even helping Sunset feel better.

Sunset doubted that anything would help her to feel better, and that was probably as much as she deserved, but while she was feeling guilty, she could at least be useful to the people who were still counting on her — Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby when she woke up — instead of a melancholy lump or sleep-deprived mess.

Sunset would not sleep the sleep of the just — she was under no illusions on that score — but she could at least rest her weary body for more than a few snatched hours.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Pyrrha smiled with equal softness as in Sunset's voice. "Any time," she said. She got up and held out her dark-gloved hand. "Are you coming?"

Sunset picked up the journal with one hand, and placed the other into Pyrrha's palm, and let the other girl lead her out of the library as the lights went dark behind them.

 

[ScipioSmith]

What Did I Miss?​

Sunset rubbed her eyes. She was a little too tired to deal with this right now. Unfortunately, it wasn't likely to wait for her to start sleeping better. "So… your dog is talking now?"

Spike the dog poked his head into view of Twilight's scroll screen. "Yeah," he said. "And I don't know how I got by without it."

Sunset blinked, several times and very rapidly. "Okay, that… and you think that my magic had something to do with this?"

"I know that your magic had something to do with it!" Twilight replied vehemently.

"I saw it," Spike explained. "This green light came out of the bottle, and it flew towards me – sort of; it kind of took its time – and then it touched me, and I could talk."

"Is that what your magic does?" Twilight asked. "Is that how you can be a unicorn?"

"Well, yes, but no, not in the way that you mean," Sunset said quickly. "Yes, I am a unicorn because I have magic, or to put it another way, I have magic because I am a unicorn – it's a very phoenix and flame situation – but no, Equestria is not a land of talking animals-"

"You admitted to Penny that you were a talking horse."

"Unicorn," Sunset insisted. "Horses are twice the size and half the cuteness. My point is that we have pet dogs just like you do, and none of them talk."

"Then why is Spike talking?" Twilight demanded.

"I don't know; does it matter?" Sunset asked. "You're not unhappy, are you? You don't want him to change back?"

"I don't want to change back," Spike pointed out.

"And I respect Spike's choice," Twilight said. "But that doesn't mean that I don't want to understand what happened, and why, and whether it will happen again."

"It won't happen again," Sunset assured her. She paused. "It probably won't happen again."

"'Probably'?" Twilight said, outrage and uncertainty mingling in her voice.

Sunset sighed. "Twilight, I have control over my magic when it is in me, a part of me, but the moment that I sever that link, as I have done in order to give you your sample, I lose control over it, and it becomes wild magic, and wild magic is unpredictable by nature. You didn't take the lid off, did you?

"No!"

"Then maybe put some duct tape around the lid; it might stop it happening again."

"That isn't terribly reassuring," Twilight said dryly. "So there's no way to know that this isn't going to cause any more trouble."

"I don't think that it is causing trouble," Sunset answered. "It's doing things, but you've accepted that Spike is fine the way he is, and some people might say that he's improved."

Twilight frowned. "Are you saying that your magic is trying to help?"

"I'm saying that it wants to be used," Sunset said. "Nature abhors a vacuum; magic abhors idleness. Think of it like a muscle; if it isn't used, then it will atrophy, except that this muscle can-"

"Get up and walk around on its own?"

"Yes, in the last extremity."

"But how am I supposed to study it if I can't even get it out of its container without it doing things of its own volition?" Twilight asked. She seemed to catch herself. "'Of its own volition'... Is it alive? Can it-"

"Be communicated with?" Sunset guessed. "No, it's not sapient, and I'm not sure I'd even go far as to call it alive. It has… instincts, I suppose, which possibly makes it living, but it doesn't feel, it doesn't… it's not an animal."

"But how is Twilight supposed to study it?" asked Spike.

"It can't be communicated with, but it does possess understanding," Sunset said. "At the moment, it's acting out because it's been cooped up, but once you let it out and start to do things with it, even if those things are just tests, then it will sense that and calm down."

"And when all the tests are done?" Twilight asked.

Sunset was silent for a moment. "Get rid of it or keep it somewhere very secure."

Twilight's eyes narrowed. "That isn't exactly incredibly helpful."

"Sorry," Sunset murmured. "I just… to tell the truth, I'm not exactly sure what you want from me, Twilight."

Twilight sighed. "Neither am I. I suppose I was hoping for a reassurance that it wouldn't happen again, but I suppose that was too much to hope for."

"If it makes you feel better, it's not that powerful," Sunset said. "I didn't give you that much magic. It might be enough to make Spike talk, but nothing drastic."

"You don't think a talking dog is pretty drastic?"

Sunset shrugged. "He's only a small dog."

"Hey!" Spike protested. "Still, I guess if the magic does get out again, maybe it'll do more good things, like it did for me."

Twilight scratched behind his ears. "Maybe, Spike, but – no offence – I'd prefer it if this didn't happen again. And I think Rainbow would prefer that too. Will locking it away help?"

"It might do," Sunset said. "It's worth a try. I… I'm sorry that I can't be of more help."

"It's fine; it was a long shot. You gave this to me, and if I'm not taking proper care and precaution, that's my fault not yours. And what did I expect you to do, teleport onto the ship and fix everything?"

Sunset smiled. "You're a little far away from me right now."

Twilight smiled back. "So, how's Ruby doing?"

"Oh, you know," Sunset murmured. "The same as-"

"Sunset!" Jaune's voice, raised in a frantic cry, interrupted Sunset before she could say any more.

Still holding up her scroll, Sunset turned around to see Jaune standing at the door leading down off the rooftop.

"Come on!" Jaune urged. "Ruby's awake!"

A beam as bright as sunlight spread across Sunset's face. Her ears pricked up, and the weariness of just a moment ago seemed banished as the darkness is banished by the light that Jaune's words spread all around them. Ruby was awake. Ruby was okay, Ruby was back, the worry and the uncertainty and the ordeal were over, Ruby was awake!

Sunset looked back at Twilight, her mouth opening.

"Go!" Twilight said, grinning brightly. "And give her our love."

"I will," Sunset promised. "Speak to you later. Bye." She hung up hastily and thrust her scroll into her jacket pocket as she started to walk – so rapidly that she was almost running – towards Jaune.

And towards Ruby.

XxXxX​

Ruby felt Zwei's tongue upon her cheek before she opened up her eyes on the unfamiliar ceiling above her.

She caught a sight of grey and black fur to the side of her as she blinked against the light shining down into her face. She half-closed her eyes as she started to sit up.

"Ruby?"

The voice belonged to Pyrrha, who was standing not far from her side in what Ruby could now see was a hospital room. Hers was the only bed occupied in the ward; Yang, Ruby noticed, sat by her bedside, asleep, her head resting on Ruby's bed and her face obscured by her long golden hair. Jaune stood on the other side of the room, and his attention must have been elsewhere because it seemed as though it was Pyrrha's voice that drew his eyes in Ruby's direction.

A smile spread across his face. "Ruby!" he cried. "You're awake!"

Zwei yelped happily, even as Ruby pulled him away from her face, an act for which she compensated by starting to give him a belly rub.

"Hey, Jaune," Ruby said, with a smile. She spoke softly, so as not to wake Yang. "Hey-" Memories flood back to her as her gaze turned from Jaune to Pyrrha: the tunnel, the grimm, a desperate situation, a feeling of hopelessness, a bright light and then nothing at all.

"Pyrrha!" she shouted, relief making her voice riser higher than she had intended. "You're okay!"

Pyrrha smiled, and her tone remained soft and gentle as she reached out and took one of Ruby's small, pale hands with both of hers. "Yes," she murmured. "Yes, I'm alright, thanks to you."

"I'm so glad," Ruby said, lowering her voice for Yang's benefit. "The last thing I remember…" She looked from Pyrrha to Jaune and then back again. "Is Sunset okay? Did she-?"

"Sunset's fine," Jaune assured her. "Physically, at least. She had to take a call from Twilight, but she'll be right down. I'll go and tell her that you've woken up." He walked to the door into and out of the room, sliding it open with a juddering sound of the rollers. He half-stepped through the now open doorway, and then paused, looking back at her. "I'm really glad to see you're okay."

A smile blossomed across Ruby's face, watered by the happy news that all of her teammates were safe. In a slightly reproachful tone, she said, "You say that like it's such a surprise."

Jaune frowned. "Ruby... you've been asleep for over a week; nobody was sure when you'd wake up or... or if you'd wake up."

The smile faltered upon Ruby's face. "But I… what happened down there?"

"Jaune, why don't you go and get Sunset?" Pyrrha suggested. "You know she'll be upset if she finds that we didn't tell her at once that Ruby had woken up."

"Right," Jaune nodded. "I'll be back in a jiffy."

He closed the door after him, muffling the sounds of his rapid footsteps as he went in search of Sunset.

Ruby turned her attention wholly to Pyrrha. "This isn't going to be one of those things where you act all weird and cryptic and don't tell me what's going on, is it?"

Pyrrha's smile was a little tight. "No," she declared. "No, I'm going to tell you everything; I just didn't want to keep Sunset in ignorance while we did it. Ruby, what do you remember? The last thing?"

Ruby blinked. "I remember you. That grimm had caught you in its bone whip thingy, and it had caught Sunset too, and Jaune and Blake and everyone were trying to get you free, and they weren't doing anything, and… I was worried that I was going to lose you. Lose both of you. I didn't want to. I didn't want that, and I… and that's about all I remember."

Pyrrha glanced down at Ruby's hand, still held in her own. She gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I see," she said softly. "Ruby… you used your silver eyes down there in the tunnel."

Said silver eyes widened in astonishment. "Really?"

Pyrrha nodded. "The light was… blinding, and when it cleared, we could all see that you had turned the grimm to stone. Sunset destroyed it with magic after that. You did it, Ruby; you've unlocked the power within you."

"But how?" Ruby asked. "I mean, mom's journal said that Silver Eyes were controlled by positive emotions, right? But all I felt down there in the tunnel was fear, so how… how?"

"Perhaps because you only feared to lose us both because you care for us?" Pyrrha suggested. "For which I am touched and very grateful."

Ruby brushed that compliment off. "That sounds like cheating to call that a positive emotion."

"If so, then I, for one, am very glad you cheated," Pyrrha replied. "I owe you my life, Ruby."

"No, you don't."

"Yes," Pyrrha said earnestly. "I do. That grimm… I wouldn't have escaped its clutches without you and your silver eyes; I don't think any of us would have been able to withstand that grimm but you. As I say, I owe you my life, and for that reason, I owe you a great debt besides, one which-"

"Pyrrha, stop," Ruby urged. "You don't owe me a debt; you don't owe me anything. You're my teammate, and my friend, and that means that I'll always look out for you, just like you'll always look out for me. You don't owe me anything." She grinned. "I've got your back, no matter what."

Pyrrha managed to muster a slight smile. "Nevertheless, I feel indebted to you. I'm not used to needing rescue."

"Some grimm are really tough," Ruby said. "You know that. Some grimm are born – or made, whatever – that way, and some get that way when they get old and smart. Some grimm give even a trained huntsman problems."

Pyrrha nodded at that. "I think that, out of all of us, not counting your magic, only Penny's laser cannon would have been sufficient to defeat that grimm, and Penny was not with us."

"How is Penny?" Ruby asked. "Is she okay?"

"She is no better than when last you saw her," Pyrrha said with a sigh. "Team Rosepetal have returned – or are returning – to Atlas with her, where she can be repaired. Blake went with them, and Rainbow Dash's friends who were held captive in Mountain Glenn."

"Right," Ruby murmured. "I'm sure she'll get be- I'm sure she'll be fixed soon, but I wish I could have said goodbye."

Pyrrha squeezed her hand once more. "Sunset and I visited her on your behalf and said our goodbyes for you, as they said theirs to you to us to pass along."

Before Ruby could ask anything else, she heard the sound of footsteps moving rapidly, and kind of heavily, along the corridor outside. The door was flung back on its rollers with a crack, and Sunset Shimmer stood in the doorway, her chest rising and falling with her breath, her ears perked up, her tail twitching.

Her eyes were sharp and fixed on Ruby.

"Hey, Sunset," Ruby offered, waving her free hand. "I'm awake."

Sunset stared at Ruby in silence for a moment, then for a moment more. At last, she said, "I'm sorry about this, Pyrrha."

"Sorry about what?" Pyrrha asked, before Sunset's hand glowed green, and Pyrrha's chair was telekinetically yanked backwards, scraping across the linoleum floor and tearing Pyrrha's hands away from Ruby as Sunset cleared a path for herself to stride around the bed. For a moment, she stood over Ruby, casting a shadow over the younger, smaller girl, then she grabbed Ruby and pulled her into a wrenching hug, her head pressed against Sunset's chest as she, Sunset, sat down on the edge of Ruby's bed.

"Never do that again," Sunset demanded. "Okay? Don't do that again."

"Save your life?" Ruby asked, her voice slightly muffled by the way that Sunset's arm was in her mouth.

"Ha ha ha, smartass," Sunset muttered. "You know what I mean."

"No," Ruby murmured. "I really don't."

Yang moved. The way that her face and head were hidden beneath her great mass of golden hair made that movement seem like the stirring of some terrible creature, an unseen horror that lurked beneath the surface, with only the disturbance of the ground to give it away.

The creature shifted, making the golden blanket that obscured it rustle and ripple before Yang emerged, blinking, from beneath the mass of her own hair. "What is all of this- Ruby!" She shot to her feet. "How long have you been awake?"

"Just a few minutes," Ruby said, through Sunset's stifling embrace.

"A few minutes!" Yang yelled, shoving Sunset hard enough to send her staggering away, her grip on Ruby gone. Her eyes flashed red. "Ruby's been up for a few minutes, and you all just let me sleep? Bunch of… seriously?"

Now it was her turn to grab Ruby and pull her into a binding hug, tugging her first this way and then the other as Yang swayed in place.

"Don't do that again," Yang urged.

"People keep saying that, but I don't get it," Ruby said.

"Don't get it?" Yang repeated. "Did one of you tell her how long she's been out for?"

"I did," Jaune said.

"You've been asleep for a week, and you don't get it?" Yang demanded.

"I saved Pyrrha," Ruby pointed out. "And Sunset."

"And that's good," Yang conceded. "But couldn't you have saved them in a way that didn't nearly give me a heart attack? I didn't know if you were going to wake up; nobody knew for sure if you would wake up. When you started reading about your silver eyes in Mom's journal… Mom never said anything about putting herself in a coma!"

"Well, we don't know what happened when Mom started out," Ruby said. "She was already using her eyes when she came to Beacon. Maybe I need to start using it more often."

"That's a fine theory," Sunset said. "But, considering that the only way we've found to get your eyes to work is to expose you to an otherwise unbeatable grimm and almost die in the process… I hope you can understand a degree of reluctance."

"Mom said that they could be activated-"

"By positive emotions," Sunset interrupted. "What did you feel down there in that tunnel?"

Ruby hesitated for a moment. "Scared," she admitted. "Scared of losing you."

"I suggested that perhaps that fear, since it was driven by concern for us, was in itself a manifestation of love and friendship," Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "That sounds like cheating to me."

"That's what I said," Ruby added. "But why would Mom lie in her own diary?"

"Maybe she wanted to mislead her enemies," Sunset suggested. "Maybe she was misled."

"What about Professor Ozpin?" Jaune said. "He taught Ruby's mom, right? Maybe he knows something that can help Ruby."

Sunset folded her arms. "I don't like the sound of that."

"I think it's a good idea," Ruby said. "He promised to talk to me about my Mom once we got back."

"I like that even less," Sunset muttered.

"Sunset," Pyrrha said reproachfully, getting to her feet and placing one gloved hand on Sunset's shoulder. "Your insistence on distrusting Professor Ozpin, I know that you mean well by it, we all know that you mean well and that you think that you're looking out for our best interests-"

"I am looking out for your best interests!"

"Professor Ozpin is not only the headmaster of Beacon but also-" Pyrrha stopped, glancing at Yang.

Unfortunately, Yang had noticed it too, "Professor Ozpin is also what?"

Ruby swallowed. Professor Ozpin had instructed her not to tell Yang about any of this, but now that Pyrrha had let slip, what were they supposed to do? It was one thing not to tell Yang something; it was something to outright lie to her face.

"Professor Ozpin," Sunset said, gently shrugging off Pyrrha's hand, "is not only our headmaster, but also the reason we were down in that tunnel in the first place."

"We volunteered for that," Jaune reminded her.

"As Rainbow put it to me: we're kids, we're allowed to make dumb decisions," Sunset declared. "The adults in the room are supposed to know better."

"What was Professor Ozpin supposed to do?" Ruby demanded. "Tell us that we were too young? That we weren't ready? We'd been on real missions before, without supervision-"

"I didn't really understand that either," Yang muttered.

Ruby ignored her, continuing, "Our enemies aren't going to wait until we graduate-"

"What enemies?" Yang demanded. "Is this about the White Fang? Why do you have to be the ones to take them out?"

"An excellent question, Yang," Sunset said. "Graduated huntsmen, Atlesian specialists-"

"You know why we were chosen for this assignment," Pyrrha said.

"I DON'T!" Yang shrieked, as smoke started to rise from out of her hair. "Will you please stop talking around the issue and explain to me just what the hell is going on?"

Silence fell in the room. Ruby found that she couldn't look at her sister, much less meet her eyes. She looked away, looking at Pyrrha, who seemed to be similarly uncomfortable.

"We should tell her," Jaune said. "We told Blake. You told us."

"Tell me what?" Yang asked.

"I'm not supposed to tell," Ruby murmured.

Jaune looked at her. "Ruby?"

"I… I was going to tell you before we left for Mountain Glenn," Ruby explained. "But Professor Ozpin found me first and asked me not to."

She still didn't look at Yang. She didn't dare look at Yang. Her sister's voice, when it came, was quiet and small, "So… so that's it? Professor Ozpin asked you not to tell me, so you're not going to tell me."

"Yang-"

"I'm your sister!" Yang cried. "I'm your sister, and I didn't know-"

"I'm training to be a huntress, Yang; we all are," Ruby said. "There's always a chance that we might not come back, like Mom-"

"Don't bring Mom into this; you're not Mom!" Yang yelled. "Mom had already graduated; you're fifteen years old and a first-year student and LOOK AT ME!"

Ruby looked, her head snapping round. Yang's eyes were deep crimson, but there were tears in them at the same time.

Yang's breath was ragged, coming in sobs as her chest rose and fell. "You… you don't remember what it was like losing Mom," she said. "You were too young, you didn't understand what was happening then, and all that you understand now is that Mom died a hero, fighting the good fight."

"Because she did."

"That didn't make me feel any better!" Yang snapped. "Knowing that she died a hero couldn't tuck me in at night or read me a bedtime story! You were too young to realise… you don't remember how hurt Dad was by losing Mom. How hurt I was."

She bowed her head, her bangs casting a shadow over her face and obscuring her eyes from view. "I know that this is dangerous. I know that, even as students, we're not safe. And I know that this is what you want to be, and so I keep how I feel to myself, and I don't let it show, but… you're a first-year, but you're already involved in real huntsman stuff, and I don't know why, and now you won't even tell me."

"I can't," Ruby said plaintively, though it sounded inadequate even to her.

"Why not?" Yang demanded. "Why can't… you know what, it doesn't matter. If you can't tell me, you can't tell me. I wouldn't want you to disappoint Professor Ozpin. I'll get out of your hair, and you can talk without worrying about what I might hear that I'm not supposed to."

"Yang-" Ruby began, but it was too late; Yang had already strode out of the room, slamming the door behind her so hard that there was a cracking sound like something breaking.

"I'll take care of this," Sunset said, striding towards the door. It seemed a little stiffer when she tried to open it, but nevertheless, she was able to force it open, then close it again more gently than Yang had once she was on the other side.

"Yang!" Sunset called, her voice muffled by the door and wall. "Yang, wait!"

Ruby bowed her head, a picture of misery spreading across her face. Yang… did Yang really-?

"I'm sure she didn't mean it," Pyrrha said, her voice gentle and urgent at the same time. "Her anger gives her words a barb that she did not intend."

Ruby didn't look up. "How can you be so sure?"

Pyrrha's boots tapped lightly on the floor. "Because, although I do not know your sister too well, I have had occasion enough to observe her behaviour around you," she said. "And it has not been the conduct of someone who has nought but misgivings that they are hiding well. I do not say that there is no truth in what Yang said, but it is not the whole of the truth, and only her being upset makes it seem otherwise."

"I'm sure she worries about you," Jaune added. "She'd hardly be your sister if she didn't." He had spoken lightly, with a laugh sounding on the verge of entering his voice, but he quieted for a moment, before he went on, "But it doesn't mean that… Yang knows how good you are."

"Yang knows your quality as we all do," Pyrrha said.

With her head bowed, Ruby felt rather than saw Pyrrha sit down on the edge of the bed and place one arm around Ruby's shoulders. Her embrace was a good deal less fierce than Yang's or Sunset's had been; she gave it with but one arm and with a lightness of touch that would have made it easy for Ruby to shrug off if she wished.

Ruby did not wish to do so. Rather, though she did not look at Pyrrha still, she leaned in and rested her head upon Pyrrha's side; although the hardness of her cuirass meant that it was not the most pleasant thing to rest a head on, being able to rest it upon anything was comfort enough.

"Although," Pyrrha added, "like us, Yang may be… it is one thing to be ready to die, Ruby, but there are times you seem to yearn for it. If there is one thing of your sister's words I beg you to remember, it is the hurt that your father and sister suffered from your mother's passing and how hurt we would be by yours."

That wasn't something that Ruby particularly wanted to discuss. It had become clear to her some time ago that none of her friends really understood where she was coming from on this, and while they weren't exactly wrong about her – what did her life really matter? Just one life, easily replaced, easily given in service to a greater whole – they weren't exactly right either.

But she didn't want to argue. So she changed the subject, asking, "So… what did I miss while I was asleep? You're all here, and you mentioned that Team Rosepetal went back to Atlas, so I guess we're still in Vale, right? That means we won, doesn't it?"

The uncomfortable silence from Pyrrha and Jaune told her without words that it was not quite as simple as that.

"We won," Pyrrha confirmed. "But I'm afraid the victory was not without cost."

XxXxX​

"Yang!" Sunset called, her footsteps thudding as she ran to catch up with Ruby's stomping sister. "Yang, wait!" She reached out and grabbed Yang's arm by the wrist.

Yang rounded on her, eyes red as blood.

Sunset stood her ground. "I've seen scarier things than your party-trick recently," she said.

Yang glared at her for a moment. "You should be with Ruby," she growled, turning away once more.

Sunset's grip on Yang's arm once more, "Well, I'm making time for you, buddy," she said pointedly, hoping that Yang would remember.

Yang looked at her, her eyes lilac once more. She exhaled out of her nostrils like an angry bull. "Fine," she muttered. "What do you want to say?"

"Not here," Sunset said softly. "Let's go somewhere more private, let's go… there!" She pointed to a doorway, a doorway which led – as she found out as she hustled Yang inside – into a supply closet, with shelves of toilet roll and disinfectant and large sachets of soap for the dispensers all piled up in shelves climbing the walls.

It was cramped, and once Sunset shut the door behind her, it was also dark until her fumbling fingers found the light switch. But it was quiet, and it was isolated, and they weren't likely to be disturbed… by anyone except a janitor, anyway.

Sunset hoped to be done by then.

Yang had gone in first, or rather, Sunset had left her little choice but to go in first, and so, Sunset was closer to the door, blocking Yang's way if she wished to leave.

Yang leaned one elbow upon a wire shelf. "What do you want?" she demanded.

"I want to tell you what's really going on; you're welcome," Sunset said.

Yang frowned. "But Professor Ozpin-"

"Can bite my tail," Sunset said.

Yang hesitated for a moment. "Why?" she asked.

"Why what?"

"Why are you telling me this, when my own sister won't?"

"Because Ruby thinks too much of her duty and too little of her self," Sunset replied. "She and Pyrrha both have a touch of that, but Ruby has it worse. I should probably push back on it more than I do, but that's how you get the reputation of being a bad influence. So I indulge it and try to mitigate the worst effects as best I can."

"You make it sound like such a bad thing," Yang said, "to be devoted to duty."

"It is, when carried to excess," Sunset said. "And if you don't think so, why are you so upset?"

"I'm upset because…" Yang's mouth worked without words for a moment. She gestured at Sunset. "What makes you more trustworthy than me? What makes you deserve to know some big secret and not me? What makes you fit to go on dangerous huntsman missions and not me?"

"You sound jealous."

"No, I'm not jealous," Yang snapped. "I'm… okay, I am a little jealous; why you of all people? Why does it feel as though everyone trusts you, depends on you; why does it feel like you're at the centre of everything?"

Sunset raised one eyebrow. "Is that how…? It doesn't feel that way to me."

"You should try and see yourself from the outside," Yang replied. "But that's kind of by the by; it's not why I'm upset."

"Because you're not half as jealous of me as you are of Ruby," Sunset guessed. "And that jealousy is warring with your affection and getting all tangled up with it, and your worry about Ruby can't be entangled with you wondering why she gets all of this special treatment and you don't."

Yang was silent for a moment. "Both our mothers were trusted by Ozpin," she said softly. "That seems pretty clear from Mom's diary. Maybe Mom – maybe Summer Rose got special lessons from the headmaster, but it seems like he trusted both of them, trusted the whole team. He used the whole team."

"That's my understanding as well," Sunset murmured. "I bet if you read on in the diary, you'd find confirmation of that. As well as… other things."

"My mother left," Yang growled. "Raven… she took off. She took off when I was so young that I don't even remember her. I didn't find out that my Mom wasn't my mother until she was… my mother left, so I'm shut out, while Ruby's mother died a hero, and she gets to follow in her footsteps. How is that fair?"

"I think that the mother of both of you died a hero," Sunset said quietly.

"You know what I mean," Yang said.

"Yes, I do," Sunset acknowledged. "I don't know what Professor Ozpin is thinking, exactly. I don't know if it's anything personal; maybe he just likes my team better than yours, maybe it's Ren and Nora's fault." She grinned, but that grin faded when Yang – judging by the sour expression on her face – failed to see the funny side. "And on top of all of that, you're worried about her."

"I meant what I said in there," Yang murmured. "About Mom. Ruby was too young, she didn't understand; Ruby doesn't have any real memories of her mother, just… just an idealised image to look up to: fearless Summer Rose, champion of justice, defender of the innocent."

"And how much of that was your creation?" Sunset asked.

"I know, I know," Yang huffed. "But for the record, Mom really was amazing. I know that; I just… I don't have a lot of, well, facts about it. Dad and Uncle Qrow don't like to talk about her, so I-"

"Made things up."

"It's not lying if you do it for a good cause," Yang said. "Is it?"

"I hope not," Sunset muttered. Though I fear it is.

Yang turned away, putting both her hands upon the wire shelf. "I… I know that there are risks. And I know that this is what Ruby has always wanted to be ever since she was a kid. And I can reconcile that. I can. I'm not… I don't want her to quit, I'm not an idiot, I know that there might come a day when we put up a stone for her alongside Mom's memorial, but… fifteen. Is it wrong of me to want her to reach twenty before she dies?"

"No," Sunset declared. "No, it isn't wrong at all." She paused. "You're not the only one who worries about Ruby."

Yang glanced at her. "When I dragged you into the classroom and told you to shape up, I didn't think you'd start to care that much."

"You should know the effect that she can have on people," Sunset replied.

Yang snorted. "Yeah, I guess I should."

"Ruby's life…" Sunset said. "Ruby's life means more to me than… more than honour, more than glory, certainly more than my own life." She thrust her hands into her pockets. "Ruby's life means more to me than kingdoms," she confessed. "I swear to you, Yang, I won't let any harm come to her."

Yang smiled out of the corner of her mouth. "Don't make a girl a promise if you know you can't keep it," she whispered.

"Very well then, all that is within my power," Sunset said. She scuffed her foot back and forth, and her tail moved back and forth too in unison with her boot. "Listen, Yang… I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For taking the mission to Mountain Glenn," Sunset said. "I… I was cocky, and I was full of our skill and strength, and I wasn't ready for what we'd find down there. I wish I could promise that it won't happen again, but… I fear we may be past the point of no return."

"Why?" Yang asked. "What… what have you gotten yourselves into?"

"There were worse dangers threatening Vale than the White Fang last semester," Sunset said. In spite of the environment, in spite of the fact that they were alone, Sunset found her voice dropping. "The grimm have a leader, named Salem. She is… terrifying."

"'Salem'?" Yang said. "I've never heard of her."

"Professor Ozpin is keeping it that way," Sunset said. "He and his predecessors have kept her existence a secret for generations."

"'Predecessors'?" Yang repeated. "You mean the headmasters?"

"They're part of it, but it's bigger and older than them," Sunset explained. "There is… a conspiracy, a group of powerful people who work in the shadows-"

"And secretly rule it?" Yang guessed. "Come on, Sunset, this is cheap conspiracy thriller stuff."

"Except that it's true," Sunset insisted. "Professor Ozpin is the current head of a group that opposes Salem, a group that includes at least General Ironwood and-"

"Professor Goodwitch?" Yang suggested.

"How did you-?"

"Lucky guess," Yang muttered. "Oppose Salem how? And what do you mean, control the grimm, and if this has been going on for so long, how come nobody has-?"

"She can't be destroyed, apparently," Sunset said. And considering what she did to us, I'd be surprised if anyone can get close enough to try. "I don't know how she controls the grimm, or even if she does 'control' them, or she can just give them commands. I don't understand how it works. If Professor Ozpin knows, he hasn't told us. What I know is that she is the black king, and all the grimm – and Cinder, and the White Fang, all of the enemies we face – are just her playing pieces."

"Why?" Yang demanded. "What does she want?"

Sunset shrugged. "To kill us all? Does it matter?"

"And Professor Ozpin told you this?"

Sunset nodded. "He told me, Pyrrha, Rainbow Dash, and Twilight."

"And you believe him? You believe that this is someone out there commanding the grimm?"

"I've met her," Sunset said quietly.

Yang's eyes widened. "You what?"

"Under Mountain Glenn," Sunset explained. "She… she appeared to us. She wasn't there, exactly; she was using some kind of grimm I'd never seen before to show herself. She… she spoke to us. She showed us visions."

"How?" Yang asked. "What did she talk about?"

"I don't want to say."

"But-"

"I said, I don't want to talk about it!" Sunset snapped. She didn't even want to think about it; she didn't want to think about what had been said, about what had been seen… about what those visions had made her do.

Yang frowned for a moment. "Why…? Okay, I'll believe you, if only because it would be weird for you to lie to me when you could just not tell me anything, but… why? Why is Professor Ozpin keeping this a secret?"

"Because he fears what people would do if they found out," Sunset said.

"People like me, you mean?" Yang asked. "People like Raven?"

"I think your second guess was right; he trusted her once," Sunset murmured.

Yang nodded absently. "So… okay. The grimm have a leader. The grimm have a leader who can't be killed. So… isn't that just another day? It's just the same fight. Other than the fact that you know this, what does it mean for the four of you?"

"It means that we go on missions like the one to Mountain Glenn," Sunset pointed out. "Because Cinder was there, one of Salem's agents, that made it… more than just another mission."

"Sure, I can roll with that," Yang said. "But that just shifts the question back from 'why assign you to this mission' to 'why bring you into his secrets?' Why first year students, and not professional huntsmen? You said General Ironwood knows; why not his soldiers?"

"Team Rosepetal also know," Sunset said.

Yang's eyes narrowed slightly. "Does Blake know?"

"Yes," Sunset admitted. "Please don't be upset with her."

Yang shook her head. "Blake doesn't owe me the truth. Neither do you, for that matter."

"I'm not telling you all this for your enlightenment," Sunset replied.

"No, I know why you're telling me, but I'm glad all the same," Yang said. "And you think… but that would mean that Dad knows too, and Uncle Qrow!"

"That would be at least one professional huntsman who knows, at least," Sunset muttered.

"None of them said anything," Yang growled. "Not a damn word, from either of them!"

"Is that so surprising?"

"It's kind of annoying none of my own family would tell me this and I had to hear it from you," Yang said, her voice rising. "No offence."

Sunset smirked. "None taken."

"You still haven't answered my question, though," Yang said. "Why first year students?"

"You'd have to ask Professor Ozpin that," Sunset said. "Except don't, because then he'd know that you know."

"You can't really expect me to sit on this."

"I'd rather that you did, yeah."

"Why?"

"Because I'm the only person who would tell you this, so if you storm up to Professor Ozpin's office, it won't be hard for him to work out where you heard it from," Sunset declared.

"So?" Yang demanded. "You'll tell anyone who'll listen how much you don't like Professor Ozpin."

"Because I have to be on the inside!" Sunset cried. "Do you know why I agreed to become a part of Professor Ozpin's group? It's not because I like him, it's not because I trust him; it's because I don't trust him. It's because I couldn't be sure that if I said 'thanks but no thanks, Professor, I don't have the experience to handle this,' he wouldn't nod and accept it and then turn to Pyrrha and Ruby and Jaune and ask them anyway, and you know-"

"That Ruby would have jumped at the chance," Yang murmured.

Sunset sighed. "Yang… I would like nothing more than to be able to tell you that we're done. That after this, I have learned better, seen my limitations, that we won't take a mission like this again. But we're involved now, for better or worse, and the missions aren't going to stop. If I'm on the inside, I can protect Ruby and the others in ways that I can't if I get frozen out. Maybe… maybe if I'm not with them, then next time…"

Now it was Yang's turn to sigh. She turned her back on Sunset, her golden hair falling down behind her and covering her back as she placed her hands against the rear wall of the closet. "So Ruby… Ruby really is following in Mom's footsteps."

"It won't end the same way," Sunset said, in a voice as hard as steel. "I guarantee it."

"You can't-"

"Yes," Sunset insisted. "I can. I promise that this story will have a happier ending."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I'm not your mother; I'm not going to run," Sunset said, her voice rising.

She was surprised at herself for how easy it was to say those words. So easy that she hadn't even really meant to say them; they'd just come galloping out of her mouth. And yet, now that she had said it, she did not regret saying it, she had no wish to take it back, she could not tell herself that the words were in any way false. She had been considering her position, or at least, she thought that she had been considering her position. She thought that she'd been contemplating leaving them all behind, leaving Beacon, going… somewhere indeterminate that she hadn't made her mind up about yet. She'd thought that she had been giving serious contemplation to the idea that she didn't belong here, with them, anymore.

And yet, in a moment, in words spoken upon instinct, all of that was revealed to be false, bordering on delusional. Of course she wasn't going to go. Of course she wasn't going to be the member of Team SAPR that bailed, a latter day Raven Branwen, leaving her purer-hearted comrades to fend for themselves against the malice of Salem and the savagery of her servants.

That was not Sunset Shimmer. She was a lot of things, and not all of them were good, but one thing that she wasn't was a quitter.

Well, there was the time I ran away from Equestria, I suppose, but only because I wouldn't give up on my destiny.

I may not be a huntress, I may not deserve to be at Beacon, I may not deserve these friends, but… but I think they need me, as strange as it may sound. Maybe Summer Rose wouldn't have done whatever it was that got her killed if Raven had stuck around to remind her to think of herself every once in a while.

Regardless of whether they deserve me, or need me, they're stuck with me. I'm with them for… for as long as it takes. For forever, if need be.

I'm with them until they're safe. I won't leave.

"I won't pretend that there isn't danger in this," Sunset continued. "And I won't pretend that you're wrong to be concerned. And I won't patronise you by blustering about our skill in combat or our semblances, because you're too smart for that. But as much as I don't trust him, I do believe that we were chosen for a reason. We may not approve, but I don't think that he chooses lightly whom he admits into his confidence. We have something, and it's not just Ruby's heroic heart, or Pyrrha's; it's not my semblance or Jaune's; it's… it's the four of us. Together, the four of us have got something, a spark, if you will. I don't know if we can save the world, and I don't know if I'll always enjoy the experience of these assignments while I'm doing them, but I think that we can make it home safe, if… if anyone can."

Yang looked over her shoulder. "But you said-"

"I didn't say I'd necessarily want to do it," Sunset reminded her. "But I think we can. And I think we'll survive. No, I know we'll survive." She smiled. "Trust me. Ruby's in safe hands with us. And we're in safe hands with her."

Yang smiled as she turned around. "You always know what to say, don't you?"

"It's a gift," Sunset said casually. "Do you feel better now?"

"Strangely, yes," Yang admitted.

"Good," Sunset said. "Do you want to go back in, maybe make things right with Ruby?"

"Not right now," Yang said.

"She's upset," Sunset said.

"And I have stuff to think about," Yang said. "I will make it up to her, but… I need time to think. You get that, right?"

"I suppose so," Sunset conceded. "Just so long as you don't-"

"I don't, I get it," Yang said. "Hey, Sunset?"

"Yeah?"

"Ruby's lucky to have you," Yang said.

Sunset snorted. "Yeah, right," she said. "I'm lucky to have her."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Balance​

Ruby's hands clutched at the hospital blanket in front of her. "Six people… died?"

Yeah, that was about how I thought you'd take it, Sunset thought. And she couldn't even say anything about it, because it was her fault.

"Yes," Pyrrha acknowledged, from where she still sat on the edge of Ruby's bed, "but many more did not."

Ruby looked at her. "And that makes it okay?"

"That's not what she said," Jaune pointed out. "Of course that's not what Pyrrha means; what Pyrrha means is that… we can't let that tragedy drive out all the good."

"Indeed," Pyrrha murmured. "Yes, six people died, but the city was saved; the kingdom was saved, and only six people perished, despite the circumstances and the ferocity of a battle fought in the midst of Vale. That is… not a thing to be ashamed of."

"But we're huntresses!" Ruby insisted. "We're supposed to protect everyone!"

"You're not that naïve, Ruby, and we all know you're not," Sunset said, this answer coming far easier than it should. "We did the best we could, and so did Team Iron, Bluebell, Wisteria, Tsunami; the Atlesian troops; everyone who fought to lock down the Breach did the best that they could. Yes, we didn't save everyone, but I think we did a pretty damn good job, all things considered."

"There are things that happened down in Mountain Glenn for which we might reproach ourselves," Pyrrha murmured. "My failure to best Cinder being one, Sunset's departure from the rest of the team being another." Her vivid green eyes glanced pointedly at Sunset as she said that. "Things for which to reproach ourselves, yes, but I do not believe that our performance once the battle was joined at the Breach is one of them."

Ruby frowned. "So… that's it? We just have to accept it?"

"Do you think there is something that we could have done differently?" Sunset asked. "Something that we could have done better? I'm genuinely asking you, by the way; this isn't a trick or a rhetorical question to get you to realise that I'm right; if you genuinely believe that there is something we missed down there, then let's hear it. I promise that I'll take it on board for next time." She glanced at Jaune and Pyrrha. "That goes for either of you as well."

Ruby was silent, her brow furrowed, her expression a little vacant as though she was lost in concentration. Instead, it was Jaune who spoke first, saying, "Instead of having Pyrrha use the train to block the tunnel, could you have collapsed it behind us with your magic?"

"I doubt it," Sunset replied. "That tunnel survived for years with no maintenance; it was clearly pretty sturdily built. And we're talking about a lot of rock and concrete – deep enough to fill up the tunnel, thick enough that the grimm couldn't just burrow their way through it – I don't have that kind of power."

"That's what I thought," Jaune muttered, "but I figured it was worth asking."

"Could we have joined forces with the White Fang to fight the grimm?" Pyrrha suggested. "Perhaps together-"

"They were trying to kill us until after the train had stopped," Sunset pointed out. "They didn't exactly seem receptive to overtures of cooperation." She glanced away. Her tail flicked back and forth from side to side. "But we could have tried. It's something to bear in mind if we ever find ourselves in a situation like that again: just because someone is our enemy doesn't mean we can't cooperate in service of a larger goal."

"I…" Ruby began, and then trailed off immediately afterwards and said no more.

"Ruby?" Sunset asked.

Ruby shook her head. "You won't want to hear it."

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "Why not?"

"Because…" Ruby hesitated once again, but then she swallowed and seemed to resolve to press ahead regardless, "because if even some of us had stayed down the tunnel to hold the grimm off-"

It was all Sunset could do not to roll her eyes. "Celestia in the sunlight, Ruby! You're talking about a last stand!"

"Only one person had to carry the warning about the grimm back to General Ironwood," Ruby responded, "and any delay in the grimm getting down the tunnel would have given the Atlesians more time to redeploy to meet the grimm instead of the White Fang."

"And everyone who stayed behind would be dead," Sunset declared flatly. "Ruby… I will… I'm not sure that I will ever be able to understand you. You… you used your magic to save Pyrrha and me, you saw that we were about to die, and you didn't just shrug and accept that as the lot of a huntress, but now… and it's not just now, either, it's so often that you talk like…" She sighed and ran one hand through her fiery hair. "I have to be honest with you, Ruby, perhaps even brutally honest. The biggest reason your willingness to talk of throwing lives away so casually isn't repellent is the fact that you don't actually follow through with it when push comes to shove."

"It's not throwing lives away," Ruby insisted. "It's sacrifice."

"What's the difference?" Sunset demanded.

"One is pointless; the other is what we're pledged to do!" Ruby declared. "The reason that grimm got loose into the city was time. It's that simple. General Ironwood was expecting the White Fang, and so he'd set up a wide perimeter. Then he found the grimm were coming, so he tried to tighten his perimeter, but it was too late. He didn't have time. Time we could have given him if we'd stood our ground and held off the horde. You know I'm right. You all know I'm right."

Jaune and Pyrrha both looked intensely uncomfortable, neither of them able to look at Ruby nor at one another, but neither of them said anything to dispute her point. Jaune shuffled his feet awkwardly while Pyrrha clutched at her sash with her free hand.

"I don't know that you're right," Sunset said, the words dropping from her mouth like lead weights, crashing to the ground. "I don't even know that these two know that you're right, only that they don't have the… I don't know what to call it, but they don't want to take you on with this, especially when you just woke up. Well, if you're going to wake up and start talking like that, then you can't complain when you get talked back to: I don't think that you're right. I think that you might be right, in the sense that, with more time, General Ironwood could have established a tighter perimeter, but there's no way that you can say for sure that it would have been so tight that that one single grimm wouldn't have gotten through regardless. In the first place, Rainbow Dash wouldn't have agreed to it-"

"How do you know?" Ruby asked.

"Because we've talked about it," Sunset replied. "We've talked about… sacrifice, as you call it. Except it's not what Rainbow herself would call sacrifice. She won't tell me, and I won't go behind her back to find out, but I think she lost someone. Someone who gave their life for pride or honour or because their dignity was too precious to be forsaken and too precarious to withstand the perceived shame of retreat. I think if you had proposed some last stand down in that tunnel, she would have told you no."

Ruby's lip twisted in distaste, bordering upon disgust. "So after all her talk, she's willing to just abandon those she's supposed to protect? She's willing to back down from a fight?"

"Rainbow believes in living to fight another die, is that so wrong?" Sunset asked. "If you die fighting a hopeless battle, then who fights the next battle? And say… I don't know, say that we agreed with you, to turn at bay and fight, say that Rainbow and Applejack got out, what then? Do you think that Yang would have waited there at the tunnel mouth when she got out? Don't you think she would have gone in after you, and Ren and Nora with her, because her heart wouldn't allow her to just stand by and let you die even if her head told her there was nothing she could do? What about protecting their lives?"

"Would you?" Ruby asked.

Sunset blinked. "Would I what?"

"Would you have turned at bay, if I'd suggested it at the time?" Ruby asked.

Sunset swallowed. "We can't throw bodies at the grimm," she said. "We won't win by trading our lives for theirs; there are more of them than there are of us."

"What about saving lives?"

"You don't know that!" Sunset shouted.

She could accept that she had done the wrong thing, but what Ruby was talking about was… she could accept that throwing dust onto a fire as she had done, was wrong – she had put people in danger by her act – but what Ruby was talking about was the equivalent of the fireman refusing to retreat before an inferno because he with his one hose might slow down the blaze for a little bit before he was consumed by the flames. And that… that, she could not condone.

She bowed her head, if only for a moment. Her ears drooped. Her tail fell limp behind her. Once more, she ran her hand through her hair as she looked up.

"Ruby, I… there are times when you… I love you, but I don't know how to explain to you that you should prize your own life dearly."

Ruby's voice, when it came, was soft and small. "And I don't know how to explain to you that, as the protectors of the world, our lives aren't worth as much as those whom we defend."

Sunset exhaled lightly through her nostrils. "No, Ruby, you can't explain that to me." She hesitated. "All of that probably makes me sound very selfish to you," she murmured. "I mourn Vale's losses. I mourn Sky. When I go to sleep, I see their spirits all around me, clamouring to know why I let them down, why I let them die, why I failed them." She closed her eyes. "'I was a butcher, I was a carpenter, I was a waitress, I was a housewife, I was a clown. We are those who trusted huntsmen to keep their vows.'" She shuddered, her whole body trembling. "Those words echo in my mind over and over again, and yet…" She opened her eyes, to find Ruby staring at her still, those silver eyes gleaming so brightly. "There are times when I envy your courage, Ruby, and your steadfastness in sticking to your beliefs, but… but I cannot share them. I cannot think so little of our worth and the worth of our existences."

"I…" Jaune began tentatively. "I'm not so sure that Professor Ozpin does either."

Sunset and Ruby both looked at him – as did Pyrrha, come to that – but it was Ruby who asked, "What do you mean?"

"You and Sunset, who feel so differently about this," Jaune pointed out. "It's almost as though you're at opposite ends of a scale, selflessness and… selfishness."

I'm not completely selfish, Sunset thought. And for that matter, martyring yourself without thought for those left behind might, in itself, be said to be a form of extreme selfishness.

Although I suppose that if that is so, it would still put Ruby and I at opposite ends of a hypothetical scale.

And I suppose Jaune didn't say which of us was which.

"But you're partnered up," Jaune went on.

"Pairings are random," Ruby pointed out.

"Are they, though?" Jaune asked.

"Not always," Pyrrha admitted. "I… I chose you for my partner," she added, a flush of colour appearing at her cheeks. "But I'm not sure how Professor Ozpin could be influencing the selection process."

"As simply as by placing students on the catapults so that certain students land closer to the partners he'd prefer for them," Jaune suggested, "and he wouldn't even need to be obvious about it, like a good magician isn't obvious about which card they want you to take."

"To what end?" Sunset asked.

"Balance," Jaune replied. "You both pull each other towards… towards the middle. So maybe, instead of arguing, you should try and learn from one another. Let each other guide you."

As happened surprisingly often, considering that he looked like he didn't have a thought in his head half the time, Jaune had just said something rather wise. Sunset and Ruby, when these arguments flared up, had a habit of approaching them as all or nothing affairs. One of them was right, one of them was going to win the row – or else they would just drop it for a while and let it continue simmering beneath the surface of their interactions. Ruby… Sunset liked Ruby, but she didn't inspire the same tact and courtesy in her that Pyrrha did, and unlike Pyrrha, Ruby wasn't the sort to shy away from a serious disagreement out of concern for the other party's feelings. As a result, although they didn't row often, their disagreements had a tendency to flare up more often than Sunset's did with Pyrrha.

But perhaps that was because they had been wrong in approaching them that way. Perhaps Jaune had a point. Actually, the more she thought about it, the more convinced Sunset was that Jaune had a very good point. Rainbow had told her that this team needed her, and Sunset had taken that for confirmation that she was at least somewhat in the right… even though she also knew that she was in the wrong in the specific wrong thing that she had done.

Ruby… Ruby had the heart of a true huntress… but the evidence suggested that true huntresses had a somewhat short life expectancy. Yang's great hope for Ruby was that she would reach twenty years old and graduate before she died, at which point, presumably, all bets would be off. And yet, at the same time, as much as Ruby's seeming desire to lay down her life for the greater good might cause angst and annoyance in those who would rather she lived on, yet it had to be conceded that there was something magnificent about her devotion to her ideals. She was a storybook hero made flesh: unfailingly righteous, implacable in the face of evil; her strength was as the strength of ten because her heart was pure, always looking for a battle to fight, a monster to slay. Someone who thought nothing of their own safety because their only heart's desire was to save someone.

Someone who could love and laugh, but not be weakened by that love, not be moved by it, not put that love above the greater good of those who depended on them.

It was admirable, if not always warmly so; sometimes, it was best admired as a painting in an art gallery: academically, and with a degree of detachment. But still, there was much to admire and something to learn from.

Sunset was of a quite different sort, by far, but she fancied that perhaps Ruby could stand to learn something from her too about valuing yourself, about knowing your own worth, about knowing what you could do if you lived.

Sunset didn't know that Professor Ozpin had arranged this on purpose, but she could conceive that fate had done so without the headmaster's knowledge or consent. She had told Yang that she, Sunset, was not Raven, and perhaps if Raven hadn't bailed on Summer Rose, then Summer would still be alive, either because she had an ally by her side in battle or because Raven had taught her to be less careless of her own safety.

Perhaps, if they had been willing to learn from one another, then much sadness in the family could have been avoided.

Or Ruby wouldn't exist, but let's not get bogged down in the details.

She had done wrong, and she could acknowledge that to herself – she wouldn't dare acknowledge it to Ruby. She could do with someone to learn better from, someone to set a better example she could follow.

But she still believed that Ruby could use the same.

"I'm not sure about Professor Ozpin's intent," she murmured, "but you make a lot of sense regardless."

She walked around Ruby's bed. Pyrrha made way for her, getting off said bed so that when Sunset sat down in the chair by her bedside, Pyrrha was not standing between them.

Sunset reached out for Ruby's hand with one of her own. "I know that I am not a perfect huntress," she said. "I know that I don't have the heart of a huntress. I don't even know that I am a huntress in spirit. But Professor Ozpin said that I could become a hero, and I'm willing to learn how from you, Ruby; if you're willing to learn from me how to be…" Sunset searched for a word with which to describe herself. "Someone who comes home. Ruby, when I spoke to Yang, I promised her that I would bring you home, as I mean to bring us all home, just as I promised that I would stay by your side, and not run like Raven did. You may call me selfish, but Jaune's right: if you can teach me how to be a hero, and I can teach you how to be selfish, then I think we'll both become better friends for those who care about us. So will you teach me, and let yourself be taught? Please?"

Ruby did not look particularly enthused by the idea, and when she looked away, Sunset felt her stomach begin to chill with fear that she would reject the notion out of hand, like the hand of hers that was tightening its grip upon the sheet as though she were about to say something uncomfortable.

"Okay," she whispered.

"Huh?" Sunset gasped, so prepared had she been for rejection. "You mean-?"

"I never meant to worry you," Ruby said. "I never meant to make Yang feel the way she did. I don't… you guys don't really get it, but that's on me as much as you because I can't explain it. And if you're willing to change for my sake, then… how can I do less?" She looked at Sunset now, a sad smile upon her face, the rose touched by frost.

Sunset was victorious, and yet, she took no joy in it. This was not a victory won by argument or good sense, but by… it almost felt like emotional blackmail, for all that she, Sunset, was committing to as much as Ruby was.

Nevertheless, the look on Ruby's face was almost enough to make her change her mind, save that she knew that Jaune was right.

They needed to find balance: Sunset to make sure that she never again repeated what she had done down in the tunnel, and Ruby so that she survived to see her graduation despite this struggle in which they were engaged.

They both needed it, as painful as it might be for Ruby.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"I'll try my best," Ruby said softly. "For you."

"And so will I," Sunset vowed.

And never, ever let you know my worst.

 

[ScipioSmith]

He Who Wields the Dagger​

Skystar was sitting on the park bench alone when Sunset came across her.

Sunset was, herself, alone, having gone into Vale to… well, just for a bit of a wander really. There was nothing in the city that she wanted, nothing that she had set out to buy or eat or do; she had just wanted to get out of Beacon for a little bit, get away from the temporary memorial to Sky that Lyra and Bon Bon had set up outside the huntsman statue like an ad hoc These Are My Jewels, get away from everything.

And so, she had gone, alone, and let her legs carry her whither they would, and they had brought her first to Winchester Park, close by the skydock, where she found Skystar Aris, sitting on a bench, seeming to stare without really seeing.

She had changed her outfit in concession to approaching fall, donning a parka that covered up whatever she might be wearing underneath, as well as a pair of ocean-blue jeans. Her hands were clasped together between her knees. Her back was bent a little, and her head was bowed.

Sunset stopped. "Skystar?"

Skystar looked up, a small gasp escaping from between her lips. "Sunset," she said. "Sorry, I didn't notice you there. I was-"

"Preoccupied?" Sunset guessed.

Skystar nodded. "I guess you could say that."

Sunset's brow furrowed for a moment. "Do you mind if I sit?" she asked, gesturing to the bench on which Skystar was already sitting.

Skystar looked at the empty space beside her. "No, go ahead. Be my guest," she said.

Sunset sat down beside her, one arm resting upon the wooden back of the bench. "So," she said, "what's up?"

"It doesn't matter," Skystar said quickly. "I'm sure you've got a lot of your own stuff going on without wanting to listen to me go on."

"Try me," Sunset said softly.

Skystar glanced at her. "Why? I mean, why do you care?"

"Well…" Sunset looked away for a moment. "If I was going to give you an honest answer, it would probably involve the word 'guilt.'"

"'Guilt'?" Skystar repeated. "You mean, because of Cardin?"

"In some ways, it feels like a million years ago," Sunset said softly, looking up at the sky and the myriad Atlesian warships that filled said sky with all their might. "But at the same time, it wasn't, and I still owe you for it."

Skystar smiled, if only faintly. "I told you, Sunset; I'm glad that you did what you did. I… I'm only a little upset that you didn't tell me earlier. I'd rather know the truth than keep living a lie."

"Really?" Sunset asked. "Even if the truth is more painful than the lie?"

"The truth gets more painful the longer the lie goes on," Skystar replied, which ignored the fact that some lies were the only things holding relationships together; those relationships would be destroyed by the truth, like Skystar and Cardin's had been, like Sunset's relationship with Ruby would be if she ever found out what Sunset had done down there in the tunnel. The truth might get more painful the longer the lie went on, but only assuming the lie stopped.

Skystar asked, "Were you all laughing at me?"

"What?" Sunset asked. "No!"

"Really? Even though you knew that I was dating a guy who was incredibly racist without any idea at all, and you didn't find it at all funny?"

"No!" Sunset repeated vehemently. "I didn't laugh at you, and I don't know anyone who did; we just… didn't see it as our place to interfere in your relationship."

"Even though you knew that he wasn't what I thought he was?"

"Why should you have believed us over your boyfriend?" Sunset responded. "Although… I should probably admit the main reason that I didn't tell you is that I liked the idea of making Cardin jump with the fact that I could tell you. I'm sorry for that too; it's another reason I owe you."

"No," Skystar insisted. "You don't."

"That's debatable," Sunset murmured. "But if I'm prying, then… you don't have to tell me. I can't force you, and I wouldn't if I could. I just… if you want to talk to someone, then I'm right here."

Skystar smiled at her. "Thank you," she whispered. "That's really nice of you, Sunset, but like I said, I'm sure you have your own stuff going on."

"Everyone has their own stuff going on," Sunset said. "It doesn't mean that we can't help each other out, still less just listen to one another."

"You'll think it's selfish," Skystar warned.

"I have no problem whatsoever with selfishness," Sunset replied. "It's selflessness that gets to me, honestly."

Skystar sighed. "It sounds… this is going to sound really petty with everything going on, but… it's just that, with everything going on, it's as though nobody cares about the Vytal Festival anymore."

"I thought one of the first things that your mother announced was that it would still be continuing, and held in Vale, no matter what the Mistralians said?" Sunset asked. "And General Ironwood was appointed head of security not too long ago."

"I know that it's still happening," Skystar explained. "But… nobody cares. Yes, it's still being held, and Mom talks about how we're going to make a success of it, but… will anybody come? To the coliseum, or to Vale? Is anybody interested any more?" She paused for a moment. "I get why people have other things on their minds, and I understand what they have on their minds… a grimm attack on the city will do that. We had to cancel our production of A Midwinter's Tale."

Sunset thought for a moment. "That… that's the one where the courtier gets chased offstage and eaten by an ursa, isn't it?"

Skystar nodded. "It was decided that it wasn't very appropriate in the circumstances."

"I can see why," Sunset murmured.

"This probably all sounds like such a pity party," Skystar groaned. "People are dead, and here I am, complaining that people aren't in the mood for a festival. And it's not because I'm the Amity Princess, it… you probably think that I only got the job because my Mom is the First Councillor… and you would be right, but the reason I wanted the job, the reason that I begged my Mom to give me the job is that… this means a lot to me. And not in the stage scripted 'I love world peace' way for the cameras, but…" She hesitated.

"Go on," Sunset urged. "I'm right here."

Skystar nodded. "My Dad… he used to really love the Vytal Festival," she explained. "He was so curious; he loved trying new things, going to new places, meeting new people. He'd try anything, meet anyone, and the Vytal Festival had so much stuff for him to try and so many people for him to meet all in one place. My Mom… her work doesn't give her time to take vacations. It's the same for my uncle Sky Beak. And so, every couple of years, Dad and Aunt Ocean Flow would take me and Silverstream for a fall vacation to Atlas or Mistral or even Vacuo. We'd watch the tournament, go around the fairgrounds, explore the city, see everything that they were laying on. It was the thing we looked forward to the most out of… everything."

She paused.

"And then Dad got sick," she said softly. "Mom… Mom was desperate to find a cure, a treatment, anything that might help, but Dad… I think Dad knew… after a certain point…" She wiped at her eyes with one hand. "Dad accepted how it was going to end much sooner than Mom did. And the main thing that he wanted was to make sure that we had some great memories to… to remember him by. And so, he made Mom take a vacation, and we went to Mistral the year that Shining Armor won the Vytal Crown for Atlas. And I don't think I'll forget anything about that fall because… because it was our last fall, but also because we had so much fun there, That… that's what I remember. Not how he looked in the hospital, but how he looked after the final match when we all watched the closing fireworks from our hotel balcony. The way the light shone in his face. I… I hope that I never forget it. And that's why I wanted to be this year's Amity Princess. I wanted to help everyone have as much fun here as I had over the years." She sighed. "So much for that, I guess." She paused. "You… you were there, weren't you?"

Sunset's mouth tightened for a moment. "At the Breach? Yeah, I was there."

"What… what was it like?" Skystar asked.

"I… I'd rather not talk about it," Sunset murmured. "It was what it was, and what it was was a fight. I don't really feel like describing what it's like to fight the grimm."

"That's not what I wanted to know anyway," Skystar murmured. "I… were you scared?"

"Why?"

"Because I was scared," Skystar admitted. "First, my Mom calls and tells me to get Silverstream and Terramar and get them to the Palace, and then the next thing, people are running around saying that the grimm have broken through the defences, and I… I was terrified. I guess I was wondering if that goes away as part of your huntress training."

"No," Sunset said. "No, that part never goes away. They can teach you how to overcome your fear, and some things can take the edge off it, like remembering your training or having the support of capable people around you, but… no, you can't learn how not to be scared." She paused. "But I… I'm a little surprised that you were scared."

"Really?" Skystar asked in disbelief. "The grimm were inside the city! I know that you were fighting there to protect all of us – and thank you, by the way, thank you so much, the city owes you a debt of gratitude-"

"Let's not go nuts," Sunset said quickly, feeling a little sick in the stomach at Skystar's praise of her heroism when it was her fault that the city had been put in danger in the first place. "General Ironwood and his soldiers deserve the praise, not me."

"You all deserve the praise," Skystar insisted. "You all… you're all the reason there is a Vale left. If the grimm had broken through… it really felt as though we could die: me, Mom, Silverstream, Terramar, Aunt Ocean Flow. But we didn't, because of you, and I know that it wasn't just you, but you're the one here in front of me right now so: thank you, Sunset Shimmer."

Sunset had to look away. Her stomach felt as though it was going to empty one way or the other, and when she swallowed, her throat was dry and brackish. If this kept up, she was going to have to make her excuses and get out of here, to find somewhere where someone wasn't trying to praise her for heroism to which she had no right.

"You're welcome," she grunted.

Skystar either didn't notice the discourtesy or was simply too courteous to let on that she had noticed. "Hey, Sunset?"

"Yeah?" Sunset asked softly.

"Cardin… Cardin was there too, wasn't he?" Skystar asked softly.

Sunset nodded. "Yeah, he was there."

Skystar looked down at her hands. "Does it… does it sound really weird if I say that I was worried about him?"

Sunset let out a sharp laugh. "No. No, it doesn't sound weird at all. Not to me, anyway. And not to anyone who has been where we are, I'll bet."

"It feels weird to me," Skystar said. "He lied to me, he betrayed me, I dumped him and for good reason, so why-?"

"Because you still have feelings for him," Sunset said bluntly. "It's as simple as that. The heart… it doesn't care whether we have good reasons for a break up. Well, not all the time, anyway. We still pine, we still get jealous, and yes, we still worry about them."

Skystar didn't reply to that for a while. "So… what should I do?"

"Get back together with him?" Sunset suggested. "I think he would, if you asked."

"No," Skystar said firmly. "No, I couldn't do that, not after what he did."

"Even if he was sorry?"

"'Sorry' doesn't make up for what he thought about my family," Skystar declared. "Just because I feel… doesn't mean that I should."

"Maybe not," Sunset admitted. "But it means you'll be feeling that way for some time to come, I fear. It… moving on can take a while, from my personal experience." She smiled. "Good thing that you'll have something else to occupy your mind."

"Huh?"

Sunset drummed her fingers on the back of the bench. "You know, for all that you've said, it strikes me that a time like this is when people need the Vytal Festival the most."

Skystar looked at her. "You think so?"

"I do," Sunset affirmed. "You told me so yourself: the most memorable fall with your father was… also the last fall. Because the darkest of times are when we need hope the most."

Skystar hesitated. "But… nobody cares anymore."

"Then give them a reason to care," Sunset insisted. "Show them why the Vytal Festival exists in the first place. I mean, the whole point is to celebrate that humanity came out the other side through the Great War alive, right? So why not celebrate the fact that we came through the Breach?"

Skystar frowned. "Are you sure? What about the people who didn't?"

Sunset hesitated for a moment. "I… I don't know what to say about them, but I will say that Vale needs this. Vale has been hurt, but it needs something to give it a reason to smile again. Something… something so that this year isn't just about the Breach, but about how Vale came back from the Breach and showed that it wasn't going to be afraid. Because… keep this to yourself, but the grimm won't stay gone forever. A lot of them died, and that will make things easier for a little bit, but if everyone in this kingdom keeps walking around under a cloud, then they'll be back. If you can chase the clouds away, then you'll be doing as much for Vale as any huntsman or huntress, and maybe more."

Skystar scoffed. "Now you're just trying to make me feel useful."

"I'm being serious," Sunset insisted. "If negative emotions draw the grimm, then it stands to reason that we need good vibes. We need this. And not just the people of Vale either; I think that all of us at Beacon need it too. We… we've fought a fight that we shouldn't have had to at our age, and we deserve a chance to fight in a tournament with rules instead of against monsters. We deserve a chance to stand in that coliseum with a vast crowd cheering our names. We deserve to be the centre of attention for once, before we die like Sky, our names forgotten. Pyrrha deserves to lift the laurel crown above her head and have all of Remnant gaze on her in admiration." Sunset grinned. "She'll hate that, of course, but she deserves it all the same, and it will please her mother no end."

Skystar giggled. "So the fact that she doesn't want it doesn't bother you at all?"

"I'm Pyrrha's team leader and her best friend; I'm allowed to know what's best for her from time to time," Sunset declared. "Which is the point: just because people right now don't think they want the Vytal Festival doesn't mean that they don't need it or deserve it. So get up, go out there, and you give us all a festival to remember. Just like the ones you had with your father."

Skystar looked at her, still and silent, then she gave a firm emphatic nod, "I… I will! Just you watch!"

XxXxX​

First Councillor Novo Aris looked down at the note – handwritten, unusually, although with first rate calligraphy nevertheless – resting on top of her desk.

She had read it twice, but she read it a third time just in case this was all a bad dream.

She would have given a great deal for recent events to have turned out to be all a bad dream, but unfortunately, she hadn't woken up yet.

Novo looked up from the letter and into the face of General Seaspray, commanding officer – for now – of the Valish Defence Force.

The General stood to attention before her desk, wearing his dress uniform of forest green with loops of gold brocade stretching across his chest and brass buttons polished to a shine. His cap was tucked under his arm, and he wore a ceremonial sword upon his right hip.

It was an impressive sight, or it would have been in more congenial circumstances. At present, however, Novo could not help but find it a little ostentatious.

"General," she said, keeping her voice calm and quiet, "would you care to explain this?" She nudged the letter towards him slightly.

General Seaspray did not look at her. Rather, he kept his gaze a few inches over the top of Novo's head. "I believe that the contents speak for themselves, Madam Councillor."

"Humour me," Novo urged.

General Seaspray cleared his throat. "It's my resignation, Madam Councillor, with immediate effect."

"Your resignation," Novo repeated, her voice sharpening.

Still General Seaspray did not look at her. "It has been my honour and privilege-"

"General," Novo interrupted him before he could repeat the platitudes from his letter. "Do you really believe that this is the time for you to depart?"

General Seaspray did not reply for a moment. "While it is not the time that I would have chosen to resign, the fact of the matter is that this is the only time when I can depart from my post, at this point. I must say, Madam Councillor, I'm a little surprised that you disagree. Vale suffered an attack which could have been catastrophic, a catastrophe from which we were only delivered by the support of General Ironwood and his Atlesian troops-"

"I don't hold you responsible for the Breach," Novo assured him. "Nor does anyone else with any sense in Vale, I assure you."

"Nevertheless, it happened on my watch," General Seaspray reminded her. "Vale has been assaulted, violated, and my army – the army that is pledged to the defence of Vale – was missing in action when the call came out. Someone must pay the price for our inability to defend ourselves, and as the commanding officer, the responsibility – and the duty to pay that price – rests with me. The Defence Force needs a new commanding officer to restore both the honour of the army and public confidence in our troops. Only a new man can draw a line underneath this and move forward with a clean slate. Quite frankly, Madam Councillor, if I did not resign, then my failure to do so would, itself, be a resigning matter."

"This is not your fault," Novo said softly.

"Nevertheless, Madam Councillor," General Seaspray said. He ventured to smile. "I was not aware that in politics one suffered blame and consequence only for one's own faults."

Novo was not amused, not least because the words struck rather close to home. Her poll ratings – her personal ratings and those of her party – had not so much fell since the Breach as they had collapsed, the humiliation of the Breach itself being compounded by a daily diet of questions in the press about defence spending, as journalists and her political opponents alike both managed to simultaneously suggest that not enough money had been spent on defence and that the money that had been spent had been wasted.

General Seaspray spoke of drawing a line underneath this incident. That was something that Novo herself would have done very eagerly.

She did not think that the resignation of the commanding officer would bring the matter to a close.

"Suppose the crisis is not over yet," she suggested.

"With the White Fang in Vale destroyed and the grimm decimated, I'm not sure how the crisis could be said to be continuing," General Seaspray said.

"The insurrectionist Cinder Fall remains at large and may strike again," Novo replied. "Do you not think it is your duty to remain in post until everything has been dealt with and Vale's safety guaranteed?"

"With respect, Madam Councillor, that is the reverse of sense; if you truly believe that Vale remains in danger, then it is all the more urgent that the Defence Force be led by someone who can command the confidence of the public."

"And what of my confidence?" Novo asked. "You still enjoy my confidence."

"For which I thank you," General Seaspray said, bowing his head, "but I assure you, ma'am, that there are plenty of capable officers who could succeed me in my post, and they will win your confidence just as easily as I have done. If you request it, I will, of course, give you my recommendation on who my successor should be, but the choice will be yours." He paused. "May I speak freely, Madam Councillor?"

"You may," Novo said.

"Why don't you want me to go, ma'am?"

Novo snorted. "Perhaps it's because you're from Mount Aris like me."

General Seaspray did not react.

"Or perhaps it's because it offends my sense of decency that you are resigning while Professor Ozpin sits smug in his tower, convinced I cannot touch him," Novo declared. "Does it not stick in your craw, General? Do you not think that Professor Ozpin's refusal to resign is, itself, a resigning matter?"

"Professor Ozpin's students did brave work at the Breach," General Seaspray pointed out mildly.

"For which they would be praised and honoured, if Professor Ozpin would let me near them," Novo growled.

A statement from even one of the young huntsmen and huntresses who had fought to save Vale would have been a great fillip to her in this difficult time; it would have secured her standing immediately if one of the heroes of the hour had come out and said that she – and the government – had done nothing wrong. But Professor Ozpin refused to even broach the subject with any of them, still less to let her come up to Beacon herself to speak to them about it.

She had a feeling that General Ironwood might have been more obliging, but an endorsement from Atlas students would have been less than useless to her.

Novo wondered if the time had come to approach young Cardin Winchester, who would surely oblige her… but that would mean ignoring the way in which he had deceived her – and deceived Skystar, what was more – and held onto his ghastly views about her brother-in-law, her niece and nephew.

She was not ready to forgive him for that, or pretend that it was of no matter to her, not for a boost in the polls.

No, she would wait it out. There was still time before the election. The news cycle would move on, public sympathy for the fallen would fade, and people would come to appreciate the Breach as the near miss that it was. In time, this, like all things, would pass.

It was a pity that General Seaspray couldn't see that.

She pushed back her chair and climbed to her feet. "Is there nothing at all that I can say that will convince you to remain in your post?"

"I'm afraid not, Madam Councillor."

Novo took a deep breath, and then forced herself to smile a little as she held out her hand. "Then I wish you good luck, General, in all of your future endeavours."

General Seaspray took her head. "And I wish you the very best of fortune, ma'am, as you continue to lead this kingdom into better days."

The door into the First Councillor's office flew open so hard that it slammed into the wall. Aspen strode in, his footsteps thumping even through the carpet. "General," he acknowledged General Seaspray with a curt nod, before directing all of his attention to Novo. "Leo's giving a press conference."

"He's what?" Novo demanded. "That's not on the grid!"

"That isn't stopping him," Aspen replied. "I went to school with the political editor of the Daily Herald – we were the only scholarship boys in our year – apparently, Leo's telling everyone that he's got a bombshell to drop."

"Try and find another word; we've had enough bombs already," Novo muttered. "Did your friend in the press tell you why Leo's holding a press conference?"

"He doesn't know."

"Would he tell you if he did?" Novo asked.

"That would depend on whether he got a juicier story out of a pre-emptive reaction or letting things play out," Aspen muttered. "We're friends of sorts, but-"

"His job comes first," Novo finished for him.

"As this appears to be a political matter, I should withdraw," General Seaspray said tactfully.

"Yes, thank you, General," Novo murmured. She looked at him. "I do mean that. Thank you for your service."

Aspen blinked. "Are you going somewhere, General?"

"To spend more time with my family, Councillor," General Seaspray replied.

"I see," Aspen said softly. "Best of luck then, General."

"Thank you, Councillor," General Seaspray said, before he turned and left the office, closing the door that Aspen had thrown open so violently.

"Does it not revolt you that a blameless man feels the need to resign from his post while Professor Ozpin appears oblivious to the need to do the decent thing and make way?" Novo asked.

"Professor Ozpin is a lot harder to fire than General Seaspray," Aspen observed.

"But not impossible," Novo said.

"Theoretically, no," Aspen conceded. "But you'd need all three other headmasters to agree to his dismissal, and he has Ironwood on his side."

"Then I'll get rid of both of them, though it costs me every scrap of influence this kingdom has in Atlas," Novo declared. "They knew. Both of them, they knew what was coming, and they sat on it until the last minute. I may be forced to appoint General Ironwood as head of security, but that does not mean I have forgotten or forgiven. His day will come, as surely as that of Professor Ozpin."

"Revenge is rarely healthy in any walk of life, Novo," Aspen said warily, "but it's terrible politics."

Novo snorted. "And here I thought you didn't like the Atlesians."

"I didn't want them here," Aspen conceded. "But I was wrong about that, and while you're right to be pissed off at the way that the two of them handled this… burning the political capital of the kingdom on a grudge is not what I got into politics for, and as for Ozpin… yes, the man deserves to be conveyed to the Bastion by the river, but the public won't want to see their Council devoting all of their energies to persecuting the headmaster of Beacon at a time like this-"

"Don't preach reticence to me," Novo said. "All year, I have suffered his incompetence-"

"But the public mood is for unity," Aspen insisted. "The people want to see their leaders come together in the wake of this catastrophe, rebuild, shore up the defences. And for better or worse, they trust Professor Ozpin; the only credit gained for Vale in this whole miserable saga has been from the bravery of his students."

"If people found out-"

"This is the worst time to pick a fight with the headmaster of Beacon," Aspen told her. "It's the worst time to pick a fight with anyone, but especially with the headmaster of Beacon." He paused. "And besides, I'm more worried about Leo right now."

"Leo, yes," Novo murmured. "Leo and his press conference. Have you tried calling him?"

"I have; he's not answering," Aspen replied.

"I'll try," Novo said, picking up her scroll. She found Leo's number and dialled. There was no response. The scroll rang and rang, but no one answered. She frowned. "Have you tried his Private Secretary?"

"They don't know."

"What do you mean 'they don't know'?!" Novo squawked. "It's their job to know what he's doing!"

"Not if it's party business," Aspen muttered. His scroll beeped. He took the device out of his breast pocket and snapped it open. He scowled. "It's starting now," he said. He pushed a button and put down the scroll on top of Novo's desk.

The light on the right-hand side of the scroll flashed as a hologram appeared above the desk: a hologram of Leo Aquas, standing in front of their front door, with the lens of a camera just visible poking into view.

"What are you doing, Leo?" Novo asked.

"Thank you all for coming," Leo began. He looked pale, but not nervous. His voice did not tremble as he spoke. "I speak to you under the lingering shadow of a terrible tragedy. Vale has been attacked. Vale has been wounded. Vale… has showed itself to be vulnerable. As you know, as everyone is painfully aware, were it not for the presence of the Atlesian forces, Vale would have been overrun by the creatures of grimm. Serious questions have been asked about the state of our Kingdom's defences, and I am afraid that those questions are justified."

"What?" Novo asked as a murmur of surprise arose from the unseen reporters who must surely be gathered outside Leo's door. "Did he… is he agreeing with the opposition?"

"Events have made it undeniably clear that the Council, of which I have been a part, has failed to maintain adequate defences or security measures," Leo went on. "The dust robberies, which the Department of the Interior failed to stop-"

"Little bastard," Aspen growled.

"The White Fang's reign of terror, which, likewise, the police were powerless to prevent," Leo went on. "And finally, this attack, this near-fatal assault on Vale in which our military were found so desperately wanting and our dependence upon our allies was so brutally exposed.

"I have, for some time, argued the case for greater defence spending and greater funding of the police," Leo declared.

"No, you did not, you lying-"

"But my voice was overruled, and bound by the dictates of collective responsibility, I had no choice but to acquiesce in the will of the majority," Leo said, "but in the wake of this tragedy, I find that I must ask myself where my loyalties truly lie: to my Council colleagues or to the Kingdom of Vale itself? Can I, in good conscience, remain a member of a Council that has so badly let down the people that I was elected to serve? Do I believe that it is possible for these concerns to be resolved from within the present administration? Sadly, I fear that the answer to those questions is 'no.' And so, following the dictates of my conscience, I am resigning as Chancellor with immediate effect. In doing so, I do what I believe to be right, for my party and for my kingdom." He looked directly into the camera. "I believe that the time has come for others to consider their own responses to the conflict of loyalties with which I myself have wrestled for perhaps too long. Thank you; I will not be taking any questions at this time."

He turned away. The hologram displayed him walking back inside his house, shutting the door in the faces of all those reporters whose shouted questions went unanswered.

Novo stared ahead of her. Even when Aspen turned off the hologram, she stared ahead of her, barely able to comprehend it.

"'Loyalty'?" Aspen snapped. "He has the nerve to talk about loyalty after pulling a stunt like that? He might as well have-"

"Called for my head on a plate?" Novo asked softly.

Aspen winced. "Nobody will be taken in by his crocodile tears," he insisted. "People will see it for what it is."

I hope you're right, but fear you're wrong. Novo took a deep breath. "You're right, of course," she said, a strained smile appearing on her face. "This is… ambition, nothing more, and everyone will see it. We will continue on, with a new Chancellor and a new commanding general, and we will put this crisis behind us and lead Vale… lead Vale into better days."

Yet, as she said them, General Seaspray's words seemed to Novo Aris like a particularly bitter jest.

 

[RedWolff]

wow...... I really like the new levels of political intrigues you've been adding in the SAPR Rewrites. It really makes the wider world of Remnant very engaging.

 

[ScipioSmith]

The Men in Grey Suits​

"Madame Councillor!"

"Madame Councillor!"

"Are you worried about the vote tonight?"

"Do you think you've done enough to retain your place?"

"What will you do if it goes to a second round of voting?"

Novo Aris stopped, turning to face the press pack that shouted at her from the edge of the car park. She smoothed out her lavender jacket and raised her voice so that they could all hear her. "I do not seek to evade criticism, but I say to my friends in the party – and I do have friends in the party – that I and my administration have served Vale to the best of our abilities, have improved the quality of life for the people of Vale, and cannot be held responsibilities for incidents, however tragic, which no one could have foreseen or prevented. I accept this challenge. I welcome it, indeed. At least I shall see who is with us and who is against us, and I call on my friends to support me in the vote tonight, as I am confident they will. And that is all I have to say on the matter; if you will excuse me." She turned away, ignoring the questions that they shouted at her back as she made her way across the parking lot, her heels clicking on the tarmac.

The King Osric Grammar School was one of Vale's finest institutes of education; in academic outcomes, it was superior to any combat school and with a far broader range of extracurriculars; the campus was not as large as Beacon's – how could it be, located in the city as it was? – but it was large enough to allow the school to possess its own theatre, a tall brick building with very few windows but large doors which were presently thrown open to admit the parents and the guests who were presently making their way in.

Novo's attention was drawn, however, to someone who was not heading into the theatre, but rather standing – loitering, perhaps, might be a more accurate descriptor – outside, with her hands thrust into the pockets of her black leather jacket. She was a girl of average height, an equine faunus with the rare distinction of possessing two animal traits: the ears that sprouted up out of her hair and the tail that fell towards the ground. Her hair, out of which her horse ears sprung, and her curly tail were both alike of a most striking colour, or combination of colours: streaks of red and gold, which even in the evening, with the sun dying and a little light spilling out of the theatre, seemed to burn like fire.

She had her back to Novo, mostly being turned to face the theatre which she made no move to enter, but her hair was very striking, and Novo thought she recognised her nonetheless.

"Pardon me," Novo said. "But it's Sunset Shimmer, isn't it?"

The girl turned, revealing a very striking pair of green eyes which blinked rapidly in surprise. "Yes, my la- ma'am. Yes, ma'am, I… I have that honour." She straightened up, and her hands slipped out of her pockets. She was wearing that leather jacket over an ankle-length turquoise dress, underneath which her boots looked ever so slightly incongruous.

Novo smiled and spoke softly to put the girl at her ease. "The honour is mine. Vale owes you a great debt."

Sunset Shimmer had, after all, made herself quite noticeable in the year that she had been at Beacon: she had helped foil the dust robbery at the docks, helped capture Roman Torchwick, and been one of the students sent by Ozpin to reconnoitre Mountain Glenn — after which she had been present at the defence of the Breach and the saving of Vale.

And she had killed Adam Taurus, the leader of the White Fang in Vale.

She was a hero, and though she was not of Valish birth, she was, nevertheless, a Beacon student — a Beacon student who was not particularly tied to any other kingdom in the way that, for example, the achievements of Pyrrha Nikos rebounded to the glory of Mistral, not Vale. That made Miss Shimmer a rare commodity, one which might prove useful in the days ahead.

Sunset looked down at the ground. "I… I did very little, ma'am. I mean, Madame Councillor."

"Ma'am will be fine, if you prefer," Novo said. "Although, I'm afraid 'my lady' is quite out of the question. This isn't Mistral, you know."

"No," Sunset said, and a trace of a smile appeared on her face. "No, it is not." She paused for a moment. "If I may-?"

"I'm not an Atlesian general either; you don't need permission to speak," Novo told her. "If I didn't want to speak to you, I wouldn't have approached."

Sunset nodded. "Very well, ma'am; I'm surprised to see you here."

"My niece is playing the Last King," Novo explained. "And my nephew is… a spear carrier, as I believe; Terramar doesn't have Silverstream's talent in performance, but he is the best cricketer in his year. We all have our talents, don't we?"

"Indeed we do, ma'am, if we can only find it," Sunset agreed. "But, forgive me, but tonight of all nights… the vote-"

"Is going on right now," Novo accepted. "Which means that it is past the point at which I can influence affairs, don't you think?"

Leo's call for others in the party to consider their positions, and their response to the conflict of loyalties, had not gone unanswered. Since his sensational resignation, he had mustered sufficient aldermen – fifteen percent of the party's total, as required by the rules – to trigger a contest for the leadership of the party. If he won, then she would be out, he would be party leader, and – provided that he could command the confidence of the Chamber of Aldermen – he would be First Councillor. But, as she had just told Sunset, it was too late to do anything about it now.

"So, it's either sit at home with a glass of wine waiting for the results to come in, sit in my office without the wine waiting for the results to come in, or support my niece and nephew and get taken out of myself for a couple of hours."

Sunset was silent for a moment. "Some might have chosen the wine, ma'am."

Novo chuckled. "Perhaps," she conceded. "But between you and me, I am quietly confident about the result."

The predictions from her office were that she would win by a landslide, avoiding the need for a second ballot. There were some who thought those predictions optimistic, but Novo had seen off tougher opponents than Leo and had every faith that the party would remember what they owed to her and rally round.

"I think you might say the same to anyone whom you thought might pass your words onto the press, ma'am."

"Too late for that, I think, Miss Shimmer," Novo said. "May I ask what you're doing here? This isn't somewhere I expected to see a huntress."

"Mmm," Sunset murmured. "I was just thinking that myself, ma'am. I'm here because Skystar invited me, but-"

"Then it would be very rude of you to slip away unnoticed," Novo said. "If that was your intent."

"The thought had crossed my mind," Sunset admitted.

"My niece and nephew are faunus," Novo reminded her. "A fact of which I know you are aware."

Sunset licked her lips. "Skystar told you?"

"That you unmasked that vile brute?" Novo said. "Yes, she told me. Cardin… I thought he was a good man. He fooled me, as he fooled us all-"

"Ma'am, I don't think-"

"Skystar also said that no sooner had you saved her from him than you started making excuses for him," Novo interrupted her. "In my presence, I would rather you didn't."

When Ocean had gotten engaged to Sky Beak, Novo had told her two things: that some would turn against her for it, no matter how respectable a faunus Sky Beak was; and that she, Novo, never would. She had kept that promise, and she did not intend to break it now, not even a little bit.

"Very well, ma'am," Sunset said softly.

"So, if you are worried about what people will say, don't be," Novo said. "Some fools may think things with which you are no doubt more familiar than I, but none will dare give them voice; the company is too polite for that."

"It… it isn't that, ma'am," Sunset said. "It is…" She trailed off for a moment. Her ears drooped down, and her hands drifted towards her pockets, although they did not enter them. "This looks like a very nice school."

"One of the best," Novo said. "If not the best for the relevant age group."

"Expensive, I presume."

"Somewhat expensive," Novo said, in what was something of an understatement.

Sunset nodded absently. "I went to a school like this, once," she said.

"I would have expected an aspiring huntress to attend a combat school," Novo replied.

"I did that too," Sunset said. "But before that… it was a long time ago, and I was quite young, but being here… it brings back memories." She let out a sort of laugh. "I'm sorry, ma'am; my nostalgia is of no interest to you."

"I owe you a public and a private debt, Miss Shimmer," Novo said. "You can babble on for a little while if you wish; you've earned the right."

"Please, ma'am, don't. I…" Sunset sighed, and her tail hung limp behind her, and her ears disappeared down into her hair. Sunset bowed her hair. "I don't deserve to be spoken to that way. I don't deserve your praise. I… I don't deserve it."

Novo did not immediately reply. She stared at Sunset, trying to get a read on Miss Shimmer and her responses. Was it the modesty of a true hero? No, she did not think it was; as a politician, you had to be able to read people, and Novo was not reading 'modest' from Miss Shimmer. Rather… was it guilt, or was it fear? She thought it was one of the two, but it was hard to be sure.

"Was it… how was it?" Novo asked softly. "Down in Mountain Glenn?"

Sunset stiffened. "I… would rather not talk about it, ma'am."

"Of course not," Novo said. Miss Shimmer was not one of Skystar's closest friends, but she was, nevertheless, a friend of hers, and one who had seen things that Novo could barely contemplate. She had no desire to traumatise the poor girl or force her to relive anything traumatising. "May I ask you why you were there?"

Sunset hesitated for a moment. "Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood-"

"Received intelligence of a possible White Fang attack staged out of Mountain Glenn," Novo said. "I'm aware of that; they admitted as much when they finally came clean to me. And so, instead of using General Ironwood's Atlesian soldiers or calling upon Valish huntsmen, they sent you: a first year student. How old are you, Miss Shimmer?"

"I'm eighteen, ma'am."

"Eighteen," Novo repeated. "And your teammates, have they all passed their birthdays too?"

"… Pyrrha is still seventeen," Sunset admitted.

"Seventeen, my god," Novo muttered. "I admire you students of Beacon a great deal," she said. "When I was seventeen, eighteen, I was still figuring out what I wanted to do with my life, and yet, you have already committed yourself to a solemn and dangerous task."

"You're very generous to say so, ma'am," Sunset muttered.

"But you're still children," Novo said. "So what the hell was Ozpin thinking, sending you on a mission like that into a place like Mountain Glenn?"

Sunset looked into Novo's eyes, and Novo could see that there were bags underneath Sunset's; clearly, the girl was struggling to sleep.

"We volunteered," Sunset said.

"You are eighteen years old; Professor Ozpin is supposed to possess the wisdom of a greater experience," Novo said tartly. "So you volunteered; youth excuses a degree of arrogance, especially in a school that sets out to produce an elite. But my question stands, nevertheless: Why did Professor Ozpin allow you to go? He could have refused you, he should have refused you, and found someone older and more capable."

Sunset hesitated for a moment. In a whispered voice, she asked, "What do you want from me, ma'am?"

"I want the truth."

"The truth?" Sunset repeated. "Or Professor Ozpin's head?"

Now, it was Novo's turn to pause for a moment. "The latter would please me," she admitted.

"Then I cannot help you," Sunset said.

"I'm not asking you to," Novo insisted. "All I am asking for is the truth. Why were you sent to Mountain Glenn? Why did Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood keep the warning of an attack a secret from the Council until the last possible moment?"

Sunset closed her eyes. "That… that is not the… I should go." She turned away.

"Wait!" Novo called, before she could take more than a few steps. "Forgive me, Miss Shimmer; this is… hardly the time. Please, come inside. Accept Skystar's invitation. As I have said, it would be rude of you to refuse."

Sunset looked over her shoulder. "I… am not sure I deserve this."

Novo could not restrain a laugh. "It's a school play; I'm not sure that deserving enters into it."

"I am not sure that I deserve your daughter's friendship," Sunset clarified in a soft voice.

"It is Skystar's to give to whom she chooses," Novo said. "Please, Miss Shimmer, I know it's an old story with which you will be familiar, but I would hate to think that I'd driven you away."

Sunset hesitated for a moment. At length, she bowed her head. "To make you feel guilty is the last thing that I desire, ma'am."

She walked back to where Novo waited, and together, the two of them joined the last few stragglers making their way into the theatre.

Skystar was waiting for them in the lobby. "You came!" she said. "Both of you!"

Sunset smiled. "It would have been rude to refuse," she said, with a glance at Novo.

Skystar's smile broadened. "This might seem like a weird thing to invite you to, but I wanted to say thank you for what you said to me the other day; it really helped."

"I'm glad," Sunset said. "And besides, I've never actually seen this."

"Really?" Skystar gasped. "You don't do the Vytal Story in Atlas?"

"No," Sunset admitted. "In Atlas, they're too ashamed of the fact that they lost."

Skystar frowned. "That doesn't sound like the spirit of the Vytal Festival."

Sunset shrugged. "It's all become so commercialised these days, everyone's forgotten what it's really all about."

"Well, you'll know what it's all about once you've seen the story," Skystar declared. "Silverstream's playing the Last King."

"So I've been told," Sunset said. "And Terramar is a spear carrier."

"And a tournament contestant, in the second half," Skystar added. She looked from Sunset to her mother. "Mom, are you sure it's okay for you to be here?"

"It's Leo, darling; I've got nothing whatsoever to worry about."

"A remarkably dismissive attitude to your own chancellor, ma'am, I must say," Sunset murmured.

"The economic policies of this kingdom for the duration of my time as First Councillor have been of my devising," Novo said firmly. "Leo's role has been to vote as I wish him to vote and to do the sums. I'm not afraid of some glorified bean-counter."

"Mom," Skystar said, "you don't have to-"

"Everything has been taken care of," Novo said. "Haven assures me that it is all in hand." She smiled. "Now, we should go in, before the curtain rises without us."

Neither of them offered any further objections, but went in with her to take their seats in the front row of the crowded theatre.

The play was rather good. The quality of these things could be variable, of course, but Silverstream was quite talented, and Terramar managed to stand quietly and not make a fuss; they both deserved the applause of their parents – and Novo and Skystar, obviously. The story was familiar but quite well done. The only sour note was the way that some of the people in the audience started looking at their scrolls and whispering to one another during the second half; Novo had to restrain herself from turning around to shush them.

It was only when the play was over that she emerged to find Aspen waiting for her in the lobby, along with Haven Bay, her private secretary. They both had rather ashen looks upon their faces.

"No- Madame Councillor," Aspen murmured.

Novo felt a chill around her heart. "I take it the final count is in?" she asked, in a voice which she deliberately kept calm.

"Not as good as we would have hoped," Haven murmured.

Not as good as you told me it would be, you mean, Novo thought. "What's the damage?"

"Two hundred and four for you," Aspen said, which was nearly thirty to forty less than she had been predicted to receive. "One hundred and fifty-five to Leo and nine abstentions."

"It's not a bad result," Haven insisted.

"It isn't the result you predicted with such confidence," Novo reminded him.

"No," he admitted, "but it is a clear majority of the party."

"But it doesn't pass the fifteen percent rule," Novo muttered.

"The what rule?" she heard Sunset ask quietly behind her.

"In order to win outright, Mom needed to get fifteen percent of the possible vote more than the other guy," Skystar explained.

"Why?"

"Because in order to lead the party, it is necessary to command the confidence of the party," Novo said in answer, "and a leader who scraped in on fifty one percent of the vote would not be able to do so."

"As you can imagine," Aspen said, "the press are waiting."

"Of course," Novo said. "Then let's not keep them waiting any longer. Excuse me."

Aspen made way for her, falling in behind her – Skystar and Sunset waited behind in the theatre – as Novo made her way across the car park, retracing her steps towards the waiting press pack.

"Madame Councillor-"

"I have only one thing to say," Novo said, raising one hand to silence the questions. "I fight on. I fight to win."

XxXxX​

"Last night, First Councillor Novo Aris vowed to fight on after narrowly failing to avoid a second round of voting in the Liberal Conservative leadership contest," Lisa Lavender announced, her voice emerging out of Sunset's scroll. "However, there are some who doubt that the First Councillor will be able to survive this injury. Our political correspondent, Bear Brandreth, has more."

"That's right, Lisa; I've spoken to several members of the Aquas camp, supporters of the challenger, former Chancellor Leo Aquas, and there is a very buoyant mood in spite of the fact that they technically lost last night's vote; they did a lot better than anyone expected, and there's a real sense of momentum in the air today. That sense of momentum is buoyed up by opinion polling showing that the Liberal Conservative party would be ten points up led by former Chancellor Aquas than it would under the current leadership of Novo Aris."

"Is there any mood in the party that the First Councillor is responsible for the Breach or the response to the Breach?"

"There is definitely a sense that if the public no longer trust the Liberal Conservatives on national security than that is something to be laid at the First Councillor's door. The feeling is that the First Councillor has de-prioritised-"

"I didn't know you followed Valish politics."

Sunset looked up. She was sat outside in the courtyard, not far from the statue of the huntsman and the huntress that lay beyond the main school hall, and now, Cardin had found her there and stood over her, blocking out the sun with his bulk.

Sunset snapped her scroll shut. "I didn't," she said. "But now I do. For now. Do you mind?"

Cardin moved aside, allowing the sun to fall on Sunset once again. He sat down beside her.

"Please, join me," Sunset muttered.

Cardin took no notice. "Why?"

"Why what?"

Cardin rolled his eyes. "Why the sudden interest in politics?"

"What's it to you?"

Cardin shrugged. "It would have been something to me," he pointed out, "before you-"

"Gave you your just desserts?" Sunset suggested.

"Sure," Cardin growled. "Let's go with that. It still is something to me."

"Your grandfather will keep his job either way, won't he?" Sunset asked.

"You know what I mean," Cardin said.

Sunset sighed. "I'm interested because I was there," she said. "Last night, when the first round results were announced, I was there with the First Councillor."

Cardin frowned. "At the school?"

Sunset nodded. "Skystar invited me to see Silverstream's play."

Cardin hesitated for a moment. "How is she?"

Sunset exhaled loudly. Her tail brushed back and forth along the ground. "I think she misses you."

"Really?"

Sunset nodded. "Not enough to forgive you, right now, but… she misses you. She's glad you didn't die at the Breach."

"That's not exactly the same thing, is it?"

"Trust me," Sunset told him, "I know what 'I hate you but I'm still in love with you' looks like."

"Huh," Cardin replied. "That… that's a pity."

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "'A pity'?"

"Yeah, a pity," Cardin said, as though that should have been obvious. "Do you think I want Skystar to turn into… you?"

Sunset made a choked sound. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means," Cardin declared. "And I don't want Skystar to end up like that. I don't want… look, I know we're never getting back together, I know that I don't deserve to get back together with her after what I said and the way that I lied to her, so… so I want her to be happy. I want her to move on, meet someone else… all that good stuff."

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "Do you actually believe that, or are you just saying it because you think you should?"

Cardin was silent for a moment. "Both?" he suggested. "I mean, if I thought there was a chance that she'd take me back, I'd get down on the ground and beg like a dog, but since that's not going to happen… she deserves someone who'll treat her right. Someone who really is all the things she thought I was."

"You're a big guy in more ways than one if you really do mean that," Sunset said. "You're a better person than me if you really mean that."

"That's not hard."

"Insolence," Sunset hissed. She scowled. "So… as someone who is plugged into all of this, do you think they're right? Do you think that the tide is against her?"

"I'm afraid it is," Cardin said. "There's no way that it should have been that close."

"It wasn't that close," Sunset pointed out.

"It was too close," Cardin replied. "She ought to have had that contest in the bag. She ought… she ought not to have faced a challenge at all. It's ungrateful, apart from anything else, but I guess there's no sentiment in politics."

"None in democratic politics," Sunset murmured.

A monarchy would never have got itself into this position, where the leader was under threat of being hurled from power because a few self-important little men had frightened themselves into thinking that the mood was turning against said leader. But then, you had to be frightened when you yourself might be toppled at any moment – or at short notice, at the very least – upon the whims of the masses. There were weaknesses built into the system all the way down. How were you supposed to find a leader with the courage and integrity to do what was necessary when everything was a non-stop beauty contest? Yes, everyone was blaming the First Councillor for Vale's lack of preparedness for the Breach, but no one had protested that she was spending money in other areas before, had they? Least of all the people who had been recipients of the kingdom's largesse?

Vale's weakness was the fault of all of Vale, yet now, they offered up Novo Aris as a scapegoat and a sacrifice, prepared to cast her out and, with her, all their sins.

If the news reports were right and momentum was against her.

"Ruby doesn't like her," she observed.

"Why not?" Cardin asked.

"She said that she doesn't care about the outlying settlements."

Cardin snorted. "If that's true, then where were the Valish huntsmen when the Breach happened?"

"That… is a good point," Sunset conceded.

"I mean, of course, the First Councillor paid more attention to the cities than Middle-of-Nowheresville," Cardin went on, "because guess what: the cities are where everyone actually lives, and in case you hadn't noticed, the city is the one place that has actually come under attack this year, so tell me again how the First Councillor is hoarding huntsmen to defend the cities when the whole reason she's in this mess is because someone persuaded her to let the huntsmen go out and defend the villages instead?!"

"I said you had a good point," Sunset said. "This matters to you, doesn't it?"

"Shouldn't it?"

"I didn't say that."

"No, you just sounded surprised."

"No one made you come to Beacon," Sunset said. "Your grandfather's a judge, your father's a civil servant, you could have followed in their footsteps if politics was so important to you."

"I know where my strengths and weaknesses lie," Cardin said, "but that doesn't mean I'm not interested or that I don't have opinions. Councillor Aris – and I'm not just saying this because she put my grandfather on the Council or because I was hoping to be her son-in-law one day; I really believe this – has been the best First Councillor this kingdom could have asked for. She turned the economy around-"

"I've heard her speak," Sunset said, her mind returning to that rally they had witnessed from far off, in the team's very first trip into Vale together. Celestia, those days seemed far off now and so much more innocent.

"Just because she said it doesn't mean it isn't true," Cardin insisted. "She brought back the industries, she made it so that people could start making money again; you know she was going to take on the SDC?"

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "No, I didn't. Sounds bold of her."

"It was," Cardin said. "She was going to slap mountain-high tariffs on dust imports so that Vale could afford to start mining its own dust again, maybe even nationalise the Schnee quarries here. She was taking back Vale for the Valish… no offence. But none of that matters now. One thing that she couldn't expect, one thing that nobody saw coming, and it's all washed away. There's no justice in politics. Another reason I preferred to be a huntsman."

Sunset said nothing. She couldn't think of anything to say that would help matters at all.

Except that she could. There was something she could say.

Councillor Aris had asked for the truth, and although she hadn't meant that truth, the fact remained that she had asked for the truth, and the truth… well, the truth might not set her free, but it would save her career, which probably amounted to the same thing, as far as a politician was concerned.

The truth would set her free and send Sunset to prison and damn her in the eyes of Ruby – if not Pyrrha and Jaune and everyone else.

We are those who trusted huntsmen to keep their vows.

She could not help the dead. They were dead, as harsh as it might seem to put it thus, and wholly beyond saving. Beyond saving and only intermittently near her conscience to speak true. Their ghosts were her burden to bear, but she would not sacrifice for them, any more than she had sacrificed for them living. But the First Councillor was alive, and Sunset could help her.

She had already cost Skystar her boyfriend and her happiness; she could not, in all good conscience, stand by and cost Skystar her mother's career as well.

Councillor Aris wanted the truth? Then she could have it and save herself.

Sunset leapt to her feet.

Cardin looked at her. "Where are you going?"

"Never you mind," Sunset said, and she ignored anything else that he might have had to say as she set off at once for the garage. Let him think her rude; he'd think much worse than that soon enough once the truth was out.

She walked to the garage to get her bike; her boots beat a rapid tattoo upon the flagstones as she walked. She didn't stop; she didn't say goodbye to Ruby or Pyrrha or Jaune. She just walked, straight there, no hesitation. Any hesitation would be fatal. Any attempt to say goodbye would murder her resolve.

This was the right thing. This was what Skystar deserved, who had always shown Sunset such innocent kindness. Kindness which Sunset had returned with misery and the ruin of her happy life.

Now she would make that right.

Now she would make it all right.

XxXxX​

"I'm afraid you can't possibly go on. That was clear the moment you didn't come through the first ballot. You must step down and let Aspen or Keller run the show. If not, we'll end up with Leo and that would be a disaster… Don't get me wrong, I support you. I'd support you until the next election, I'd support you for the next five or ten years, but no one thinks you have a chance of winning. No one wants you humiliated, Novo, you don't deserve that. Step down, on your own terms. Don't wait for the push, eh?"

"I'm afraid I don't think you'd win, Madame Councillor, and your standing may do untold harm.

"I'm afraid you must step down now and let Aspen and Keller run."

"And of course, one wouldn't want you to be humiliated in any way, Madame Councillor."

They had all agreed beforehand. They had all gotten together like little schoolboys behind Matron's back and agreed the line they were going to take. Then, one by one, the men in grey suits had trooped into her office and told her that she couldn't possibly win, that she needed to step down for the sake of the party and make way for Aspen or Keller. That nobody wanted to see her humiliated in any way.

As if it wasn't a humiliation to be confronted one by one by these little men, these insects, these aldermen who would be nothing without her and told that she must step down for the sake of the party!

By the time that the fifth one of them had come through the door, she'd been able to predict perfectly what he was going to say; by the time the tenth one of them had come through the door, she had wanted to scream.

She felt so angry. She felt so… so powerless.

She felt so tired.

By the time she staggered home, unable to bear any more, her arms had been trembling with weakness, her legs wobbling. She had collapsed into an armchair in the sitting room of her official residence.

"Mom?" Skystar asked anxiously as she knelt down in front of her with what looked like a large whiskey held in one hand. "Here, take this." She held out the glass, but Novo did not take it.

At the moment, she felt as though it would have slipped from her trembling hand.

Skystar frowned as she put it on the coffee table beside Novo's chair.

"Mom," she murmured, reaching out to touch Novo's hand. "Is it… is it over?"

Novo did not respond. She did not want it to be over. She didn't want it to end like this, defeated not in an election but by whispers and faint hearts within her own party, brought low by treachery. It was unconscionable. It was unfair.

It was unavoidable.

Aspen slipped into the room through the door opposite Novo's seat, which she had left open as she staggered in. He had no tie, and his collar was open, his suit rumpled as if he had been wearing it for too long.

"I…" he began. "It's important for me to tell you that I didn't put them up to that." He swallowed. "I would never do that to you."

Novo smiled faintly. "From anyone else, that would seem very disingenuous."

"'From anyone else'?" Aspen asked.

Novo nodded. She squeezed Skystar's hand before she said, "Nevertheless, if you've come to measure the curtains, I wouldn't blame you."

"That's not why I'm here," Aspen said.

"Perhaps it should be," Novo said. "I'd rather you than Leo."

"Novo-" Aspen began.

"You need to think about who's going to nominate you," Novo said. "I'd do it myself, but I'm afraid that would do you more harm than good. You need a heavyweight, someone with gravitas; I'd recommend Keller, but he's likely to stand himself, judging by how many people mentioned him. You need to find someone popular to lend credence to your campaign."

"I don't need nomination papers, and I don't need a campaign," Aspen insisted. "Novo, you can still win this, all guns blazing-"

"We don't have any guns, Aspen; that's why they want me gone."

"Novo!" Aspen snapped.

Novo fixed him with her gaze. "The First Councillor of Vale must be a realist."

"It's not as bad as it looks," Aspen said.

"That's a relief; it looks terrible," Novo replied dryly.

"I know that we're having some difficulty rallying the troops," Aspen conceded. "But if you come out fighting, then the waverers will fall back into line."

"Not now," Novo murmured. "Not after today. The Emperor is without his army, Aspen; the battle has been fought and lost."

Aspen was silent for a moment. "I don't want to take your place," he said. "Not like this."

"It's not my first choice for how to leave either," Novo said, "but better you than Leo."

"Mom, are you sure?" Skystar asked. "Is… is this really it?"

Novo blinked rapidly. She found that there were tears in her eyes. "I… I think it is. I… I wish that it had come under different circumstances, but… but one very rarely gets the chance to decide these things in this line." She paused for a moment. "I hope that history will be kinder to me than the present."

Aspen scowled but said nothing.

There was a buzz from the communicator mounted to the wall beside the door, meaning that the police officer on guard outside was trying to reach her.

Novo tried to rise but found that she was still a little too weak for it. "Aspen, would you mind answering that for me?"

"Of course," Aspen said softly, and he pushed the red button on the metallic wall panel. "What is it?"

The voice of Officer Clark issued into the room. "Pardon me, Councillor; there's a girl out here who wants to speak with the First Councillor. Says her name is Sunset Shimmer."

"Madame Councillor!" Sunset called. "I need to speak with you."

"Sunset?" Skystar asked.

"Miss Shimmer?" Novo said.

"The First Councillor is rather busy at the moment," Aspen said. "She has no time to-"

"I'm aware of what's going on, that's why I'm here," Sunset insisted. "Please, ma'am, it will be worth your while, I promise."

"What is this about?" Novo asked, trying to raise her voice.

Sunset hesitated for a moment. "I… I'd rather speak to you privately, ma'am, and not like this with me out in the street."

Novo glanced at Skystar, who shook her head in puzzlement.

Novo took a deep breath. "Very well. Let her in, Clark."

"Of course, ma'am."

There was another buzz, indicating that the connection was broken.

"Is this necessary?" Aspen asked.

"It's not as though I have anything better to do," Novo reminded him.

Aspen scowled but said nothing. Nothing about that, anyway. He half turned away, before he said, "Sunset Shimmer… she was-"

"A Beacon student, one of those at the Breach," Novo said. "One of those Professor Ozpin sent into Mountain Glenn."

Aspen shook his head. "What was that fool thinking?"

"Perhaps Miss Shimmer has come to tell us?" Novo suggested.

Sunset Shimmer arrived soon. She was heard before she was seen, her footsteps heavy on the stairs, her steps slow and rather plodding. She shuffled into the sitting room, wearing out the carpet a little with her boots, her hands thrust into the pockets of her jacket just as they had been last night. Her ears were drooped, almost invisible amongst her hair, and her tail hung limp between her legs.

Her face was pale and a little drawn. Her eyes were cast down to the ground.

If she had not been so young, Novo would have had Skystar offer her a drink.

"Miss Shimmer," Novo said, "what a pleasant surprise. This is Aspen Emerald, Councillor for the Interior."

"I think I've seen you on television, sir," Sunset said softly.

Aspen gave a sort of sniff in reply.

Novo took a deep breath. "Would you like something to eat, Miss Shimmer? There's plenty in the freezer. A cup of tea perhaps?"

"No, thank you, ma'am."

"You must sit down, at least, you look…" You look how I feel. "You look very weary."

"No, thank you, ma'am, I'd prefer to stand," Sunset said, still as softly as before. "I should stand." She paused.

"Well?" Aspen demanded.

"Aspen," Novo chided him gently.

Sunset blinked twice. "I am… sorry, about your difficulties, ma'am. I hear… I'm told by some that you are a very good First Councillor, and Skystar is proof that you are a good mother."

"That's very kind of you to say," Novo said, "and your sympathies are welcome-"

"I didn't come here to offer you empty sympathies," Sunset interrupted. "I'm sorry because…" She closed her eyes. "Because it's my fault. I'm the one who detonated the mine and opened the way into Vale for the grimm."

Silence fell in the room as completely as if a second mine had gone off and they were all amongst casualties. Novo, Aspen, and Skystar were all frozen, all staring at Sunset, none of them speaking or reacting.

Novo scarcely knew how to react. In all her years in politics, this was… she had never experienced anything quite like this before.

But then, that in itself had become depressingly common this year.

"I think," she said, finding her voice at last, "that you had better explain."

Sunset nodded. "The White Fang had mined the end of the subway tunnel, using the dust that they had stolen over the past year," she said. "The detonator was left on the train that they were planning to use to transport their men and stolen war machines to attack Vale. The detonator… it had been left for me. I… know the person who left me the detonator, and she knows me; she… she wanted to… she gave me a choice. I had a choice. We'd gotten on the train before we knew about the grimm, and everyone… the emergency exits from the tunnel had been sealed up, we'd passed the last station in Mountain Glenn, there was no way out, I… I had a choice. My teammates, my friends were on the train with me, and I had a choice: condemn my friends or risk Vale. I chose my friends." She paused. "I didn't mean to cause you these issues, ma'am. Skystar, I didn't-"

"'Didn't mean'?!" Aspen cut her off sharply. "You didn't mean to cause these difficulties; what the hell did you mean, then?! Did you just mean to kill us all and leave this city in ruins?!"

"No!"

"You didn't mind risking the possibility, though, did you?"

"Aspen," Novo said. "That's enough."

"'Enough'?" Aspen repeated. "Novo, she-"

"That's enough," Novo insisted. She stared at the girl in front of her. She felt… it was hard to tell exactly what she felt, except that she did not feel angry. Perhaps she ought to have felt angry, on behalf of herself, on behalf of Skystar, on behalf of Vale, but… she did not. "Miss Shimmer, why are you telling me this?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Sunset asked. "This, the Breach, all of it, it's not your fault! You can have me arrested, I'll confess, and this leadership battle and all the rest can go away! You can still be First Councillor-"

"That is very generous of you, Miss Shimmer, but I'm afraid you're a little late to come riding to my rescue," Novo told her. She pushed herself up to her feet, gaining strength from necessity. "And in any case, whether you or the White Fang are guilty of setting off the mine doesn't really change the salient criticism of my leadership: that the Valish forces were unable to respond to the threat that we faced, and we were reliant upon the Atlesians under General Ironwood to protect us. Whoever caused the explosion, those facts do not change."

Sunset looked rather deflated. Her body sagged forwards, her shoulders slumped; she looked almost as if she might faint right there on the sitting room floor. "I… I'm… I didn't mean for… I knew the Atlesians were there, I thought they'd save… I hoped they'd save everyone."

"Did you care if they didn't?" Aspen demanded.

Sunset glanced at him. "Not enough," she conceded quietly. She glanced away, looking back down at the floor. "I wish… are you sure that there isn't something I can do to help you, ma'am?"

"You can face justice," Aspen said sharply.

Sunset's chest rose and fell. She screwed her eyes tight shut. "Of course. I can still do that."

"You could," Novo said, "but I don't see the necessity of that."

"Novo?" Aspen gasped. "I… can I speak to you in…?" He stopped, clearly torn between asking to speak to Novo in private and leaving Sunset alone with Skystar.

"Yes," Novo murmured. "You may."

It was hard to imagine someone as wretched as Sunset Shimmer looked at the moment doing anything to hurt Skystar; perhaps Novo ought to have felt more nervous leaving her daughter alone with someone who had just admitted to committing treason, but for whatever reason, she did not. She was not afraid of Sunset, any more than she was angry with her.

She pitied her. She pitied the girl who had had the weight of the world placed on her shoulders and been broken beneath the weight. It was… it was a great pity that she had been put in that situation, and the consequences that had flown from it were even more to be regretted, but that did not negate the pity.

"Skystar," she said, "you'll be alright to stay here?"

"I…" Skystar gripped the back of the chair which Novo had been sitting in. "Yeah, sure. Go ahead, Mom."

Novo nodded to her. "Aspen," she said, and led the way towards the study.

She was starting to feel… not stronger necessarily, but more in command of herself. Sunset's words had given her something beyond self-pity and recrimination to focus on, even if that something else was just externalised pity for another.

It was still enough to get her on her feet and into the small study adjoining the sitting room.

Aspen followed her, slamming the door shut behind him. "What in God's name are you doing? This is-"

"Meaningless," Novo said. "Miss Shimmer could give her confession, and it wouldn't save me, not after half the party has lined up to stab me in the front. I couldn't forgive that, and they wouldn't expect me to. We have… I have passed the point of no return. And what I told that girl out there was true: her responsibility doesn't negate my own, real or perceived."

"So that's it?" Aspen asked. "You're just going to give in?"

"I'm going to spare myself the humiliation," Novo said, with a touch of bitterness creeping into her voice. "I'm going to give you a fighting chance. You need to win, Aspen. You… Vale will be lucky to have you as First Councillor."

"Vale was lucky to have you as First Councillor," he replied.

"Yes," Novo said softly. "Yes, it was. But every sun must set, and a new dawn must rise again."

Aspen turned away from her for a moment, resting his hands upon the door. "None of which," he said, turning to face her again, "none of which means that she should be allowed to get away with what she did. She deliberately-"

"'Must I hang the farmboy who deserts his post when I cannot touch one hair on the head of the reeve or alderman who encourages him to desert?'" Novo asked. "The Last King asked that, in the bleakest winter of the Great War, when his army was snowed in at Valley Forge."

"I don't need a history lesson," Aspen said irritably. "My ancestors were snowed in the same as yours, and they didn't think of deserting because they understood what was at stake; they understood that freedom, for Vale and for all the slaves they'd left behind in Mantle, rested on the outcome of the war, and so they stuck to their duty."

"She's a child, Aspen," Novo replied. "A first-year student, sent into Mountain Glenn for God's sake. Sent into Mountain Glenn and a situation where she was asked to lay down her life-"

"That's what she signed up for," Aspen spat.

"Spoken with all the maturity of a grown man," Novo replied.

Aspen frowned. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I don't blame her for this, any more than the Last King blamed the farmboy."

"Ozpin," Aspen muttered.

"He sent her there," Novo said. "So young and so unprepared."

"That doesn't change the fact that she pulled the trigger."

"And what good will it do to lock her up for that?" Novo asked. "Send her to jail for life, put her to death, to what end?"

"Justice?" Aspen suggested. "Obedience to the law? Why shouldn't she face punishment for what she did?"

"She didn't have to come here," Novo pointed out. "She didn't have to tell me the truth. If she had not, I would never have known."

"And what of it? It doesn't wash away her crimes."

"You were the one who told me revenge was terrible politics when you preached reticence at me not too long ago," Novo reminded him.

"I didn't want you to pursue grudges at political cost-"

"You want a political cost?" Novo asked. "The only credit for Vale gained in this miserable affair was the involvement of the Beacon students-"

"She's from Solitas!"

"But trained here in Vale, along with her teammates," Novo said. "Trained at Beacon, because whatever the faults of our military, we have the finest school producing the finest huntsmen in all of Remnant, and that, at least, is something that Vale can take pride in." She sighed. "Perhaps you were right that, for that reason, it would have been a fool's errand to go after Professor Ozpin as I wished, but if it comes out that one of those Beacon students of which Vale is so proud, a hero of this year's catastrophes, actually put the city at risk… what will that do? What kind of negativity will that cause? It will… it may do untold harm."

Aspen held his peace for a little while. "And so… what? She gets away with it? She gets to skate by, to continue training as a huntress when she has already proven herself unworthy of the same?"

"If you are so set on punishing her, then you will be able to do so, once you become First Councillor," Novo said. "I won't be able to stop you. But I will not, and I strongly recommend that you consider the potential consequences before you do."

XxXxX​

Sunset didn't look at Skystar. She was too ashamed to look and too afraid to look for what she might see in Skystar's face if she did look.

And so she looked away, down at the beige carpet beneath her feet.

"Sunset?" Skystar asked.

Sunset didn't respond, and she certainly did not look.

"Sunset," Skystar repeated. "Come on, I'm right here."

Sunset glanced her way. Skystar's expression was a little hard to read, which was itself surprising; she would have expected more obvious disgust.

"This… this seems to be a bit of a habit with you," Skystar noted.

"Hmm?"

"You do things," Skystar said. "And then you regret it afterwards when you see the consequences, and then you confess to doing it."

Sunset licked her lips. "I… I guess that's true."

"You could always think about the potential consequences beforehand," Skystar suggested.

"You think I didn't think about the consequences?" Sunset demanded, and now, she looked Skystar full in the face, her head snapping up. "The consequences were all that were in my mind."

"You just… didn't care?" Skystar murmured.

"If I didn't care, I would have let my friends die out of cold logic," Sunset muttered. "I cared… I cared about them. I thought that General Ironwood's forces would save the day."

That was a lie; she had not been certain that they would do so down in the tunnel; she had certainly considered the possibility that they would not. But there were limits to her honesty; she would tell the truth to save Skystar's mother's career, but if Skystar was not inclined to judge her already, then Sunset wasn't going to give her even more reasons to do so.

"I… I guess they did," Skystar conceded. "For most of us."

"Yes," Sunset whispered. "For most of you."

"But six people died," Skystar said. "Because of you."

"Yes," Sunset acknowledged. "Because of me."

"And you only came forward to save Mom's career?"

"I thought," Sunset murmured, "that I had caused you enough trouble already."

"Then how are you going to make it right?"

"By saving other lives," Councillor Aris said, as she came back in from the other room, with Councillor Emerald following behind her. "Isn't that right, Miss Shimmer?"

Sunset's brow furrowed. "I hope so, ma'am."

"Don't blame her, Skystar," Councillor Aris instructed. "She was too inexperienced for the position she was placed in. But Skystar is right; you will have to repay the debt you owe to Vale, and to Remnant." She paused for a moment. "You are too late to save my career, but I hope that Councillor Emerald will be chosen as my successor by the party. If so, it is to him that you will repay the debt you owe, and other than to him, you will not speak of this. Neither of you will speak of this."

"Mom?" Skystar asked.

"For the sake of morale," Councillor Aris explained. "The valour of the Beacon students is all that the people of Vale may take pride in at this present moment; it is unfortunately true – and it may even be said to be truly my fault – that the police and the defence forces have let his kingdom down, but Beacon Academy and its students have, in the public eye, stood strong. That is why I have not exposed the fact that Professor Ozpin sat upon critical information until the last possible moment, and that is why I will not expose you. This last shred of public confidence must be maintained; it is encouragement that the people need now, not the despair that would come if they knew that one of the students of Beacon who fought to defend them had put them in danger."

"I… I see," Sunset murmured. She… she wasn't… she felt tears coming to her eyes. Tears of relief, as inappropriate as it might be in this company. Yes, there would be a price to pay later, but not a price that would take her away from her friends, from her team, not a price that would… she was saved.

She had not saved Councillor Aris, but she had been saved herself, and that… yes, there would be a price for it, but in the meantime… she was free.

No. Not free. She would never be free of it.

Not free, but safe.

"I don't know what to say," she said.

"Then say nothing," Councillor Emerald said harshly, "and walk out of here while you still can."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Meet the New Boss​

"And our biggest news story of the day: Aspen Emerald today took office as First Councillor. Mr Emerald was elected leader of the Liberal Conservative party unopposed in the third round of the leadership contest after his rivals, Leo Aquas and John Keller, withdrew after the second round of voting. The former Councillor of the Interior entered the First Councillor's official residence at Number 12, Regent Street, and received the traditional applause of the staff," Lisa Lavender declared, as the screen to her right showed a picture of the black front door of the official residence.

It had only been a couple of days since Sunset had been there in person but had failed to save Councillor Aris' career nevertheless.

Now, she sat in the dining hall, looking at her scroll as the news reported on the outcome of the leadership election and the assumption of office of the new leader of Vale.

In a more full dining hall, it might have been rude to have been looking at her scroll that way, but half the students — more than half, in the cases of the Atlas and Haven students — had gone home for a break before the start of the tournament, and so, the cafeteria was emptier than it had ever been to Sunset's recollection — but then, she'd been in Mistral for the break last semester, so she couldn't say how full or empty it had been at that time.

Besides, further detracting from the impression of impoliteness was the fact that Sunset wasn't the only one paying attention to her scroll and to the news on it. It was true that Jaune, Yang, Ren, and Nora didn't seem particularly fussed, but Pyrrha was listening politely on the other side of the table, Ruby leaned into Sunset's shoulder for a better look, while Cardin loomed over them, looking over Sunset's shoulder.

"What do you think it means?" Jaune asked.

"Nothing," Ren declared, without looking up from his noodles. "Leaders come and go, but nothing ever really changes."

"That's a rather cynical view, don't you think?" Sunset asked.

"I didn't say it was a bad thing," Ren replied. "The best government is one which gets out of the people's way and lets them live their lives without interference."

"Sounds like what people say when they don't want to pay their taxes," Cardin muttered.

"It sounds a lot like the mindset that dreamed of Oniyuri," Pyrrha observed.

Ren glanced at her, nodding his head. "My parents supported that endeavour and hoped that it would come to fruition."

"'Oniyuri'?" Yang asked. "What's that? I've never heard that name before. Is it a concept or a—"

"A place," Ren replied. "Or at least, it would have been."

"Several years ago, Mistral appeared to be in something of a crisis," Pyrrha said. "Crime was rising, and with it, the influence of wealthy crime lords who dared to expand their power into the upper slopes of the city and mingle with or threaten the traditional noble families. In fear, and out of disgust at the corruption of the Council and its failed policies that had led to this state of affairs, several prominent families, led by the Mings, planned to quit Mistral and found a new city where they could govern themselves as they saw fit."

"It was their hope that their success would attract more migrants," Ren added, "and that one day, Oniyuri would be prosperous enough to be acknowledged as a kingdom in its own right."

"How come no one's ever heard of this place?" asked Ruby.

"The grimm destroyed it before it was even finished being built," Ren growled. "Like Mountain Glenn, what was supposed to be a symbol of hope and new beginning became a cautionary tale of what happens to those who walk away from safety."

"Then … but what happened to Mistral?" Jaune asked. "I mean, it didn't seem that bad when we were there."

"The criminal element pushed their luck too far," Pyrrha said. "The death of Lord Rutulus shocked the wealthy and the powerful and galvanised them to save the city. The criminal leadership were cut down like wheat in harvest time, and the worst of the corruption was purged."

"So things did change, after all," Yang pointed out.

"For the powerful, perhaps," Ren allowed. "Not for ordinary people."

"That might be how it works in Mistral, but not here," Cardin insisted. "Here, the Council takes care of people, or it should, anyway."

"Leaders should always strive to take care of the people," Pyrrha said quietly.

"But that doesn't mean they always do," Ruby murmured.

"Do you know what this new guy is like?" Sunset asked. She didn't want to give away that she'd already met him, and besides, one single meeting — where he had been understandably bad-tempered — was hardly an appropriate basis to judge him.

"I … never really liked him that much," Cardin admitted.

Sunset glanced over her shoulder. "Because he was a faunus?"

Cardin winced. "Maybe. A little. But Councillor Aris seemed to trust him, so I guess he must be okay. Since he was her closest ally, I think we'll see more of the same but with an increased focus on security and defence, given … you know, everything that's gone on lately."

And why he has the job in the first place, Sunset thought.

Yang's eyes narrowed. "Can we afford all of that stuff, or is Dad going to have to pay more tax?"

"I don't know," Cardin admitted. "And it's Councillor Emerald's first day in the big office, so I doubt even he knows right now."

"Outside of the official residence," Lisa Lavender said, "the new First Councillor had this to say."

The image changed from Lisa Lavender in the studio to a video recording of the exterior of Regent Street, where Aspen Emerald, his antlers resplendent, was standing at a lectern branded with the emblem of the Kingdom of Vale.

His hands rested upon the wood, and his gaze travelled across what must have been a crowd of reporters. He didn't flinch as flashes went off in his face.

"My great-great grandfather," he said, "was a slave in Mantle. He risked everything to get himself and his family to Vale before the Great War. If he had been caught, he and they would have been put to death with incredible brutality, but they made the attempt anyway, as so many did, because to them, the reward was worth the risk. They came to Vale because, in Vale, they could be free; in Vale, they could be the equal of anyone; in Vale, they could prosper upon their own merits. That is what Vale meant to my ancestors and that is what Vale means to me: freedom, opportunity, and equality; and so, to the people of Vale, I say that my administration will champion those values and continue to make Vale a place where anyone can prosper through hard work and deserving merit.

"I would like to thank my predecessor, Novo Aris, for her sterling work rebuilding the Valish economy; with the foundations of our prosperity secure, we may go forward with confidence and with the ability to fulfil our programmes and our promises to the people of Vale."

He fell silent for a moment, and his grip upon the lectern seemed to tighten.

"I come to this, the highest office, amidst tragedy," he said, his voice dropping. "Vale has been attacked, in a way that is unprecedented in the history of this kingdom. I do not wish to overstate the seriousness of what occurred at the Breach; thanks to the efforts of our Atlesian allies and the students of Beacon Academy, Vale was saved, and the majority of Vale's people with it. We should all remember that and rejoice in it. Nevertheless, it is not enough to say that the overwhelming majority of the people of Vale were delivered from catastrophe. Unforgivable weaknesses in our military and our civil defences have been exposed, and I promise the people of Vale that my administration will do all it can to ensure those weaknesses are shored up with the utmost despatch. The first act of my administration, when I walk through that door, will be to order a public inquiry into the parlous state of our emergency infrastructure, to identify why a shelter meant to protect people from the grimm was breached by a grimm with such tragic loss of life, and whomsoever is found to be responsible will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. But I know that we cannot wait for the results of a public inquiry, and that is why my second act will be to order the Inspector-General of Public Works to conduct a full examination of every shelter in Vale and to do whatever is necessary to make them fit for purpose against any future calamities such as we have endured.

"More than that, my administration will immediately make contact with our counterparts in Atlas and Mistral with a view to purchasing additional warships to augment our Royal Navy, additional weapons to equip our forces for any eventuality, and instructors to fill in what appear to be unforgivable gaps in methodology and training. Although I pray to the god of my people that such an attack as we have endured does not occur again, I make this promise to the people of Vale that if it does, we will be prepared. Next time, I vow to you, we will save ourselves."

The picture cut back to Lisa Lavender in the studio. "In other news, the stock market closed three points up—"

Sunset shut her scroll.

"Sounds like Vale is going to have ships and guns, just like Atlas," Yang observed. "I wonder if they'll still need us."

"Sure they will!" Nora cried. "Remember how those soldiers just ran away and left us to do all the work on our training mission?"

"They'll probably try and make sure that doesn't happen again," Sunset said.

"But Atlas still needs huntsmen," Jaune pointed out. "And so will Vale."

"Unless they make us all Specialists," Ruby suggested gloomily.

"Would that be such a terrible thing?" Pyrrha asked. "It would not be my first choice, to be sure, but … it appears to work for them."

"I don't want to take orders," Ruby said. "I want to make my own decisions and do what's right."

"You take my orders," Sunset pointed out.

"But that's different," Ruby said. "I trust you."

You know just how to stick a dagger in me, don't you? Sunset did not reply.

"You're all reading far too much into this," Cardin informed them all. "He's talking about spending more on the military, not reorganising the whole kingdom so that it's just like Atlas. Didn't you hear what he said: freedom, opportunity—?"

"And equality," Sunset reminded him.

"Yes, yes, I heard that too," Cardin said. "My point is that huntsmen aren't going to be any less free under Councillor Emerald than they were before; Vale is going to be just as it was, just with a stronger national defence. And I, for one, think that's an unvarnished good thing."

XxXxX​

General Ironwood opened the door, then took a step back. "After you, Oz."

Ozpin's smile was a little tight. "First into the dragon's den, James?"

"It won't be that bad," Ironwood replied. "Will it?"

"I think we'll soon find out, won't we?" Ozpin murmured, as he — despite the jibe — did lead the way inside.

Ironwood was a little surprised to be invited to the official residence — he hadn't thought that they were in that good odour with the new First Councillor — but perhaps it was simply a matter of Councillor Emerald not being settled in yet and not wanting to go to his office in the Palace for one meeting only to have to come back again. The room to which they had been directed was on the ground floor, and Ironwood was surprised to find that there was no desk, or any sort of working table, anywhere in sight. There were some chairs around the edges of the room, but mostly, for all its size, the room was empty, with a lot of bare beige carpet. To some extent, it reminded him of his own office back in Atlas Academy, except a little more homely in décor, but he had such a big office only partly to host large groups of visitors; mostly, it was because space in Atlas was at a premium, and so, having a big office marked the Headmaster of the academy as a man of influence and prestige.

He didn't expect that this room was empty for the same purpose.

"The work is done on the floor," Councillor Emerald declared. He was stood with his profile to Ironwood and Ozpin, looking out of the window at the Horse Guards' Parade which stood behind the street. His hands were clasped behind his back.

Ironwood shut the door behind him. "Mister Councillor?"

"You're wondering why there isn't a big table," Councillor Emerald guessed. "All of the papers are put on the floor, and everyone kneels or squats, doing their backs out in the process of fixing whatever crisis is currently in progress, like students pulling an all-nighter to get their essays done before deadline. It's much easier to move around that way than with a table and chairs clogging up the room — or perhaps it just seemed that way, and now, it's become a tradition that no one thinks to oppose. Good afternoon, gentlemen."

"Good afternoon, First Councillor," Ozpin said. "And congratulations upon your—"

"Don't you dare," Councillor Emerald growled. He paused for a moment. "I did not seek this office. I would have been quite content with my former position, or no position at all, so long as I knew that the government of Vale was in good hands. Novo Aris was a good woman."

"I have never suggested, nor heard it suggested otherwise," Ozpin offered diplomatically.

Councillor Emerald turned to face them. "I want you to know that I hold you both responsible for her downfall," he declared, "but you are both dug in deep and tight, and I do not have the desire to engage in the kind of drawn out struggle it would take in order to knock you both off your exalted perches, not when there is so much else that is more pressing for Vale. And besides, it would disturb the public at a time when we need calm and good spirits more than ever. But do not think I have forgotten, or forgiven."

Ozpin said nothing. Ironwood could understand that; it was difficult to know how to respond to someone calling you into their office to tell you how much they hate you, but he endeavoured to find a response anyway.

"Mister Councillor," he said. "May I ask what you think we should have told you earlier than we did? As soon as we heard back from our reconnaissance team that there was an imminent threat to the city, we notified the Council."

"You should have notified the Council that you were sending a reconnaissance team," Councillor Emerald declared. "And why."

"And what would the Council have done in response, Councillor?" General Ironwood asked.

"The Council would have asked why you were sending two teams of first year students instead of Valish huntsmen or some of your vaunted Atlesian Specialists," Councillor Emerald snarled. "Tell me, General Ironwood, is it the habit of the Atlesian military to have children fight their battles for them?"

Ironwood clasped his hands behind his back, mirroring the First Councillor's posture. "There were reasons for the assignment of Teams Sapphire and Rosepetal to that particular mission."

"Perhaps you'd like to share those reasons with the class?" Councillor Emerald suggested.

Ironwood cleared his throat. "The information that led us to investigate Mountain Glenn came to us through Blake Belladonna, our former mole in the White Fang," he lied. "She received communication from a contact of hers within the White Fang requesting a meeting within the ruins. Although it could have been a trap, Professor Ozpin and I nevertheless felt that it was worth following up on—"

"So you sent children because they were expendable, if it was a trap?" Councillor Emerald asked.

"I would never have sent any team if I didn't believe they could fight their way out of any danger they might get into," Ironwood replied, his voice rising slightly, "and besides, the two teams concerned had already carried out operations alongside Belladonna, and we believed that synergy might be advantageous."

Councillor Emerald was silent for a moment. "Is that right, Professor Ozpin?"

"It is, Mister Councillor," Ozpin said, his face inscrutable. "Our reasons were precisely as General Ironwood has described them."

Councillor Emerald's eyes narrowed. "Nevertheless," he said, "you placed the security of Vale in the hands of children."

"You may not like it, Mister Councillor, but I believe that we have been vindicated by events," Ironwood said.

He might regret having given RSPT the assignment himself, but he wasn't going to just stand there and let some Valish politician tell him to his face that they were incapable. Yes, the mission had gone less than perfectly, and Penny had been left in a state of damage, but none of that was known to Councillor Emerald, none of it should have concerned him even if he had.

"The team we sent to Mountain Glenn delivered sufficient warning of the incoming attack that Vale was defended with minimal casualties."

"Is that what you really believe?" Councillor Emerald demanded. "That your children did the best job they could?"

"I have no reason to believe otherwise," Ironwood said.

Councillor Emerald was silent for a moment. He turned away from both of them and walked to the far end of the room. His hands moved from behind him to out of sight, somewhere in front of him, obviously.

"You may be offended, General Ironwood, when I say that I don't trust your motives," he said. "I don't care if you're offended or not; I don't trust your motives. My ancestors came to Vale to get away from northern power."

"With respect, Mister Councillor, Atlas is not the Mantle that was before the war," Ironwood said.

"So you say," Councillor Emerald allowed. "So you may even believe. But though some of your methods may have changed, I believe that you people are as grasping and power-hungry as ever. You make yourself indispensable through the military might that you fund through the economic dependence of the other kingdoms upon the Schnee Dust Company, which you encourage. You dominate Remnant in ways that Mantle could scarcely have dreamt of. You lost the war, and yet, you have achieved all the things for which you went to war—"

"Mister Councillor," Ironwood interrupted him, "the Schnee Dust Company is not some arm of the Atlesian state—"

"And yet, your military has collaborated with the SDC on several research and development projects, has it not?" Councillor Emerald asked. "And the SDC also has a division producing military equipment, does it not?"

"Rather irrelevant, if I may say, Mister Councillor," Ozpin said. "Yes, the Atlesian military has commercial ties with the SDC; many, if not all, major organisations in Remnant have some commercial ties with the SDC, even here in Vale; Remnant's largest conglomerate can hardly be ignored. It is not evidence of a grand conspiracy or of hidden motives on the part of General Ironwood or Atlas. You know, Councillor, that I did not wish General Ironwood's presence here. You were present at the Council session where you and I voted against allowing the Atlesian forces to visit Vale in such strength. Events have proven us both wrong, and I am bound to say that, whatever disagreements General Ironwood and I might have had, I have never had cause to doubt the integrity of his motives.

"Atlas is imperfect, as Vale is imperfect, as all the creations of mankind are imperfect, for it is our very inability to reach perfection that keeps us striving to reach it and, in the reaching, improving ourselves and our works. As Atlas has improved upon the Mantle that was." Ozpin paused for a moment. "The crimes committed against your ancestors and your people were horrible, but they were Mantle's crimes, and cannot at the door of Atlas be laid."

Councillor Emerald took a few moments to reply. "Unfortunately, you are correct in one thing, Ozpin: events have proved us wrong. It sticks in my craw somewhat, but we needed you, General Ironwood. Much as I wish it were not so." He rounded on them both. "However, just because I require your presence, General, and just because I cannot remove you, Professor, does not mean that I will let things continue on as they have done. Novo allowed you both to keep making trouble for her right up until the moment you caused so much trouble it ended her career; I don't intend to make the same mistake. Enter!"

A door at the other end of the room opened to admit three men into the chamber. One of them Ironwood knew: his former Valish counterpart General Seaspray, the lately retired commander of the Valish Defence Force. He was not wearing a military uniform, but rather, a suit of well-tailored blue. The other two men were both wearing Valish uniforms, one — the taller of the two, with a shock of silver-white hair and large, almost bird-like wings coming from his back — had the two pips and a crown of a Valish colonel upon his shoulders, while the other — a bald deer faunus with red-brown eyes and a pair of antlers, somewhat more modest than the First Councillor's, growing out of the top of his head — possessed the pip over crossed sword and baton of a general. Evidently the latter, although not known to Ironwood, was Seaspray's replacement in command of the Defence Force.

"General Seaspray, I expect you both know," Councillor Emerald said. "But allow me to introduce General Blackthorn, formerly of the Patch Light Infantry, now appointed to command of the Valish Defence Forces, and Colonel Sky Beak Aris of the Mount Aris Light Dragoons."

Ironwood walked towards them. "A pleasure to meet you, gentlemen," he said, offering his hand to General Blackthorn. "How does it feel?"

General Blackthorn did not take his hand. "I hope you'll forgive me, General Ironwood, if I don't shake the hand of the man who has humiliated my army. I need your assistance, but don't expect me to like it."

Ironwood let his hand fall to his side. "That was not my intent, I assure you."

"Maybe not," Blackthorn allowed. "But it's what you did. And now I must restore pride and dignity to a force that has had both stripped away and been made a laughingstock."

Ironwood did not respond to that; rather, he said, "Mister Councillor, are there any more people going to come in and insult me? If there are, could we get them over with all at once? I do have work to do."

Colonel Sky Beak chuckled, although he seemed to be trying to hide it.

Councillor Emerald drew in a breath. "Colonel Aris," he said, "will be taking leave of his regiment, for a little while at least; I am seconding him to the Atlesian forces as our liaison officer. Through him, you will coordinate your actions with General Blackthorn and myself. I expect you to keep him abreast of all developments."

"Of course, Mister Councillor," Ironwood said. "All significant developments. Colonel."

Colonel Sky Beak offered his hand. "It will be a pleasure to work with you, General Ironwood."

Ironwood took the offered hand. "Likewise."

"And of course, you will see that the colonel is given accommodation aboard your flagship," Councillor Emerald added. "Where he can observe the conduct of your forces from the hub of their control."

Where he can spy on me, you mean, Ironwood thought. This was … not ideal, but at the same time, it was hardly a fatal blow. After all, everything he was keeping secret from the Valish Council, he was keeping secret from his own officers too, much as it pained him to do so. It might, perhaps, lead to a few less trips to Beacon and a few more video calls with Oz, but overall, it was nothing he couldn't handle.

"Of course," Ironwood said. "I'll make the arrangements at once." The colonel could snoop around as much as he wanted, but he wasn't going to find evidence of an Atlesian conspiracy because no such conspiracy existed.

"As for General Seaspray," Councillor Emerald continued, "he has graciously agreed to postpone spending time with his family in order to accept the newly created office of Inspector General of Schools, in which office he will reviewing all Combat Schools, and most especially Beacon Academy, to ensure that all standards are being adhered to and nothing untoward is occurring at this institution that is of such great importance to Vale."

Ozpin smiled. "I see. Well, if you do note anything that could be improved, I hope you'll let me know, General; at Beacon, we're always striving to improve the quality of education that our students receive."

Perhaps Emerald and his people didn't notice the slight tightness around Ozpin's eyes, the way his smile didn't quite reach. This was not good. It was one thing for Ironwood to call Oz from his office where Sky Beak couldn't listen in, but who was to say that Seaspray wouldn't badger Ozpin in his office? Not to mention what an outside observer might make of certain students going up to Ozpin's office much more frequently than others. And if Qrow showed up, what in the name of the gods would anyone outside their circle make of him?

This might be more difficult. The only consolation was it didn't seem that he was going to be living at Beacon full time.

"And at the end of his review," Councillor Emerald concluded, "General Seaspray will produce a report, with his recommendations on restructuring the organisation of Valish huntsmen and Beacon Academy in order to bring them both under a greater degree of Council oversight."

The smile faded from Ozpin's face. "Mister Councillor, the independence of Beacon Academy—"

"If the independence of Beacon Academy meant that much to you," Councillor Emerald said, "then perhaps you should not have abused it so recklessly. That's all; now both of you, get out."

"Thank you, Mister Councillor," Ironwood said softly, and then turned to go.

Ozpin led the way silently; he moved quickly enough, but did not speak until they were outside 12 Regent Street, feeling the light breeze upon their faces, slightly ruffling Ozpin's grey hair.

"Oz?" Ironwood murmured.

"'A greater degree of Council oversight,'" Ozpin muttered. "Has it really come to this?"

"They can't take the school away from you," Ironwood reminded him. "Not while I've got your back."

"No, they cannot, thank the gods," Ozpin murmured, "but they could force me to take orders from some general … and they could put my children in uniform."

Ironwood felt torn between a desire to reassure his old friend and a desire to defend the system under which he operated. "That's not necessarily what was meant," he said diplomatically. "And who knows? Seaspray might surprise you and recommend no changes to the current system."

"You and I both know that is highly unlikely, James," Ozpin said.

Ironwood was silent for a moment. "I know that you don't like the system I run," he said, "but it works for Atlas."

"Except that the number of non-Atlesian applicants to Atlas Academy has cratered since the Specialist system was instituted," Ozpin said. "You're driving non-Atlesians away, James; the only people who want to study at Atlas from outside of your kingdom are—"

"Wealthy Mistralians whose idea of what Atlas is like consists of 'it isn't all the things that we dislike about Mistral,'" Ironwood muttered.

"You have only yourself to blame for that James; you drive away not only non-Atlesians, but also Atlesians like Miss Schnee who are unwilling to submit to your control."

"And yet, I still have the best huntsmen and huntresses that I could ask for," Ironwood said.

"For now," Ozpin murmured. "If Beacon goes the same way as Atlas, if we, too, begin to drive outsiders away—"

"Then Leo will be very happy," Ironwood said.

Ozpin did not laugh. "It goes against everything that the Academies were founded to stand for."

"It might not go so far as that."

"Anything will be going too far," Ozpin said. "The huntsman system was intended to remove the monopoly on violence out of the control of governments to make it harder for them to start another war. Is this all it takes for them to forget that and close their hands around power once more?"

"Not necessarily," Ironwood said. "I think it's fair to say that Councillor Emerald doesn't like either of us, but if he really wanted a fight, then he could try and get you fired — and me, as well, if he really wanted to kick up a storm. I doubt that he'd get his way, but it seems like he isn't going to try because he has other priorities. He's a politician, Oz; he wants to be seen to be doing something because now is the time when it seems like Something Must Be Done, but if we can get through the Vytal Festival without any more hiccups, once everyone has had a good time and the Breach seems further away, then there won't seem like such a pressing need for action, and there'll be a dozen other things that have come up between now and then clamouring for his attention. It wouldn't surprise me if Seaspray's report, whatever it says, ends up mouldering in someone's bottom drawer."

Ozpin was silent for a moment. "I very much hope that you are correct, James. Certainly, I hope a good Vytal Festival will leave an equally good impression."

"I'll do my best," James promised. "Incidentally, and before the new liaison takes up his post on my ship, I'm going to assign a squad — not Rosepetal, a squad of my best specialists — to try and track down Cinder Fall. Since we don't know what she's planning, even if they can't find her, they might be able to keep her off balance and scrambling to stay ahead of them."

"Perhaps, if they can pick up her scent," Ozpin said. "I wasn't aware we had any leads."

"That is an issue," Ironwood admitted. "But Captain Ebi has a knack for getting lucky when it counts."

XxXxX​

Sunset stopped her bike outside of the First Councillor's residence. She took her helmet off as she dismounted, letting her hair fall down her back as she approached the police officer on guard outside the gate.

"My name is Sunset Shimmer," she said. "The First Councillor is expecting me."

Not too long ago, she puffed out her chest in pride at being able to say that, at being expected by the leader of the kingdom.

No more. Not now.

The police officer looked at a list, presumably the names of expected callers. "I'll need to see some ID," he said.

Sunset pulled her scroll out of her jacket pocket and swiped through to her student's licence. Her photograph looked so smug, it was almost nostalgic. She held her scroll up for the police officer to see.

He looked at it, and then back at her. "Alright then." He walked through the gate, with Sunset following behind him, and buzzed at the door. "Sunset Shimmer to see the First Councillor."

There was no reply, but there was a mechanical click, and the door swung open slightly.

"In you go," the police officer said.

"Right," Sunset said softly as she pushed the door open the remainder of the way — it had surprised her the first time she'd come here how heavy it was; perhaps, it was armoured in some way against a terrorist attack — and stepped inside.

The door swung shut behind her, making her glad that her tail wasn't in a position to get caught in it.

It was night, the sky had been dark when she had arrived at the door, and in the hall, the lights were off. There was no one to greet her, nor even any sign of a cleaner at work.

But the stairs were right in front of her, and she knew the way. She climbed up them, ascending from the working rooms in which government could be conducted and into the living quarters where the First Councillor and his family lived. Did the First Councillor have a family?

The message that she had received from Skystar had been peremptory: the new First Councillor wished to see her. There had been no explanation as to why, although Sunset could guess that well enough, or what he planned to do to her once she arrived.

Perhaps Skystar didn't know; hopefully, she didn't. Otherwise, her silence would have to be taken as a sign of her disgust, and although Sunset had earned that disgust, she did not want it.

Just as she did not want to leave Beacon. No matter what Councillor Emerald chose to do to her, she hoped that it would not sever her ties with the place, with them.

He seems to want to keep things covered up, but I'm not sure he'd bother calling me here to tell me that he's decided to do nothing.

Not to mention, he seemed too angry to do nothing.

He was certainly a lot more upset at me than Novo. Or less understanding, anyway.

She finished climbing the stairs and pushed open the door into the sitting room to be confronted not only by Councillor Emerald, but also by a small boy, like the councillor, a deer faunus, with light brown hair and chocolate brown eyes and little nubs of antlers beginning to grow out of the top of his head, sprouting from amongst his hair like plants out of the soil. His eyes lit up as Sunset entered.

"Sunset Shimmer!" he cried. "It really is her!"

"Indeed it is," Councillor Emerald said, with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "What did I say? Now that I'm First Councillor, I can do anything. Welcome, Miss Shimmer; I don't believe you've met my son, Bramble."

"No, sir, I haven't," Sunset murmured. She knelt down on the floor, so that she and Bramble were at more of a height, although she was still a little taller than him. "It's a pleasure to meet you, young man."

"You're so amazing!" Bramble cried. "I've watched the video of you fighting Pyrrha a hundred times—"

"At least a hundred times," Councillor Emerald murmured.

"And it's so cool what you did with all of the laser beams flying out of your hands like that, and teleporting all over the place. I hope I get a semblance just like yours!"

"Oh, I think you'll have a semblance that's much cooler than mine," Sunset said. Since my actual semblance sucks, that shouldn't be too hard.

Bramble frowned sceptically. "That would be great, but I doubt it. I think you were robbed in the fight; you should have won, definitely."

Sunset shook her head. "When you say that you want a cool semblance, does that mean you intend to study combat at a combat school? Maybe go to Beacon?"

Bramble nodded. "If my dad will let me."

"Then one of the things you need to learn is that any semblance, no matter how powerful, can be overcome by a skilled, disciplined, serious opponent," Sunset informed him. "Pyrrha doesn't have any abilities as flashy as mine, but she's honed her body and her mind until they're as sharp as her weapons, and she reaps the rewards for that. The better girl won."

"I still think you're cooler than she is," Bramble said. "It's great having a faunus that I can look up to."

"I'm sure your father, the guy who now runs Vale, is happy to hear that."

"He knows what I mean," Bramble replied. "At school, I never get to be the huntsman when we play huntsman and grimm because all the other boys say that there are no faunus huntsmen, so I have to be a monster. But now I play as you, and I always win."

"Your classmates sound like charmers," Sunset muttered. She raised her voice to add, "I'm … flattered, really, and honoured too, and I'm certainly not going to say you can't be me on the playground, but anyone who tells you there are no great faunus huntsman is a moron; it's been my privilege to fight alongside some incredibly brave faunus. It's not just me, not by any means. So don't let anyone tell you that you can't, okay?"

"Quite so, Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald said. "Bramble, I need you to go to your room; Miss Shimmer and I need to have a grown-up conversation."

"Yes, Dad," Bramble said. He ran to the other door, then stopped and looked round to say, "And thank you for protecting us all against the grimm too!" Then he ran away, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

He had left the door open. Councillor Emerald had to cross the room after him to shut it.

Sunset got to her feet. "Rather a heavy-handed way of making your point, sir."

"Is there a way of making my point that would not seem heavy-handed?" Councillor Emerald asked. Having closed the door, he turned to face her. "You were willing to kill my son."

"I didn't seek anyone's death, sir," Sunset insisted.

"You didn't care whether he lived or died," Councillor Emerald declared.

"And if the certain death of your son were to be placed in the scales against the possible fall of Vale — a Vale which you knew full well to be defended, and which you hoped had been forewarned — what would you choose, Councillor?" Sunset demanded, her ears pressing downwards.

Councillor Emerald stared at her, but did not reply.

"That's what I thought," Sunset said. "I admit that I made the wrong choice down in that tunnel, and if you wish to punish me, then I will accept punishment; but I will not accept judgement from the nine out of ten people who would have made the exact same choice that I did in that situation."

Ruby, if she knew the truth, would have the right to judge her; Sunset might even accept that Pyrrha would have the right to do so. But she would not be looked down upon by someone who was no better than her, but only luckier.

He could put her to death, that was fine, or whatever penalty the law set down, but she'd rather he didn't sneer at her while he was doing it.

Councillor Emerald walked towards her from the far door. "Perhaps that's why Novo wanted to go easy on you," he said softly. "Because she would have jeopardised the city for Skystar's sake. That, and she took pity on your youth. Do you think your youth should excuse your actions, Miss Shimmer? Do you think that you should be allowed to get away with it because you're just a child?"

"I think there are arguments as to whether I should have been there, but given that I was there, then no," Sunset said. "I knew what I was doing."

Councillor Emerald nodded. "I agree, and in a slightly perverted sense, I'm glad you possess the maturity to grasp that." He walked to a drinks cabinet and took out a decanter of some sort of brown-gold strong liquor and a single glass. "Do you have any family, Miss Shimmer?" he asked, as he unstopped the decanter and poured himself a glass of spirit.

"No, sir," Sunset murmured.

Councillor Emerald brushed aside his jacket and put one hand in his pocket as he took a drink. "Let me guess: your teammates are your family."

"You could say that," Sunset admitted quietly.

"My son is my only family," Councillor Emerald said. He took another drink. "Although … but nothing ever came of it. It would have been far too complicated for the children."

"If I may, sir," Sunset murmured. "Bramble's mother?"

"Hit by a drunk driver, when he was only four years old," Councillor Emerald growled. "She was on her way back from a party."

"I … I'm sorry."

"Why?" Councillor Emerald demanded curiously, hatefully. "You would have risked her life just the same as all the rest if she'd been alive."

Sunset had no reply to that; it was, after all, quite, quite true. So she said, "Did they catch the person responsible?"

"He served six months of an eighteen month sentence," Councillor Emerald muttered, as he knocked back the last of his liquor. "So you could say, Miss Shimmer, that I am used to people not being punished as I think they deserve."

Again, Sunset said nothing.

"Novo … was right," Councillor Emerald whispered. "About you, as about so much. Not, perhaps, about your guilt, but … you heard my son. You are, unworthy as you are, something of a role model: a powerful, capable faunus. And you look 'awesome,' shooting your lasers out of your hands." He smiled at her, and this time, the smile almost reached his eyes. "How can a humble politician like myself compare, droning on in legislative assemblies? Plus, as we have already discussed, you and your fellow students have been lauded for your contribution during the Breach … if people knew about your real contribution to the Breach, there would be … all kinds of negativity which we do not wish at this time. On top of which, there is no evidence, only your confession which you could recant at any time." He hesitated. "Does it seem fair to you, Miss Shimmer, that Sky Lark is dead, and yet, you not only live on but get to enjoy the life that should have been his? You say that you regret your crime, and yet, you are possessed of all the things for which you did that crime."

"No, sir," Sunset said. "It isn't fair."

"Then tell me something, Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald said. "I already know that you are not prepared to sacrifice those close to you for Vale, but are you prepared to die for it? Are you, alone, prepared to give your life to preserve this kingdom?"

Sunset said nothing for a moment. That was not a question she had expected to be asked. Death … death was not something she could embrace with a light heart. She was not Ruby, she wasn't even Pyrrha; she admired the Mistralian honour and the reverence for nobility, but that part of the Mistraliad that proclaimed 'let us go' was not a part of her cultural mindset; that heroic theme did not sing in her soul as it did for Pyrrha. And she certainly was not eager to follow in the footsteps of the admired dead who had gone before her.

And yet, if she said no, then she lost the last shred of credibility she possessed as a huntress in training. Death … death was frightening, and yet, at the same time … she'd let Adam stab her, she'd taken him away so that she could fight him alone with an uncertain outcome, she had looked death in the face.

Death for my friends, not for Vale.

Well, if I die, my friends will think well of me, which isn't guaranteed if the truth comes out. And if I wasn't prepared to die, then why did I write that embarrassing letter to Pyrrha?

You knew that you might die when you set out upon this road.

"Yes, sir," Sunset whispered. "Though I would rather not."

Councillor Emerald looked at her, and for a moment — for the first time — Sunset thought she saw a glimpse of pity on his face. "Well," he said, "that is what you signed up for, I believe."

"Probably, sir," Sunset murmured. "So how is it that you would have me die for Vale?"

"Gloriously, if possible, but if not, then of necessity," Councillor Emerald said. "As a huntress should. Your admirers may mourn you, but their image of you will endure untarnished."

My admirers. Not too long ago, I would have been as overjoyed to learn I had admirers as I would have been to be invited to the home of the First Councillor. "You are very generous, sir."

"How unfortunate to hear," Councillor Emerald muttered. "I will send you missions, for you and you alone; as First Councillor, I have access to the job board, I will … create a huntsman to accept those missions I judge suitably dangerous and assign them to you. You will not involve your teammates in this."

"No, I will not," Sunset said. "They played no part in my decision; they should not suffer for the consequences of it."

Councillor Emerald nodded. "If you succeed, then you will have done some good for Vale. If not … then the debt is paid. Do you understand?"

If there was one thing about this situation she regretted, it was that if she died on one of these missions for the First Councillor, she would be unable to keep her word to Lady Nikos. But that was hardly a reason to refuse. As for the rest … this was, in some respects, more generous than she deserved.

"I take it that it will never be over, sir."

Councillor Emerald shook his head. "I own you now, Miss Shimmer," he said. "And so does Vale."

Sunset bowed her head. "Then I shall await your instructions, First Councillor."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Fear and Loss​

The streets of Vale were quiet, or at least quieter than they had been before, to Pyrrha's recollection.

Vale was as large as Mistral, perhaps a little larger — if less steeped in history — and on Pyrrha's visits into Vale, she had found the city streets to be as bustling as ever those of Mistral had been.

Not that she was particularly well-versed in all the flows and currents of movement down all the streets of Mistral — she had never claimed to be streetwise, nor had she denied having lived a sheltered, privileged life — any more than she was vastly familiar with Vale. But all the same, she could not remember it having ever been so quiet before.

The streets were not quite deserted, not yet, and not just because Pyrrha and her friends were walking down them, but there was a quiet to them; the footfall was — in Pyrrha's opinion, admittedly, and equally admittedly drawn only from her own experience — down quite dramatically; instead of throngs moving down the streets like a river, human currents flowing into and out of the shops in an almost equal exchange that never lessened the overall volume of the surge, there were only individuals and small groups, and they moved with a palpable anxiety to their tread, eyes and faces darting around them. Children, in particular, were incredibly hard to come by. Pyrrha had noticed only a handful since they had gotten off the airship. The shop doors were open, but hardly anyone seemed to be coming out, much less going in. People moved with hurried steps, as if unwilling to linger out of doors for even a moment longer than necessary.

It wasn't difficult to guess why it should be so. Since the start of this academic year, Vale had endured crime, terrorism, and finally, a grimm attack; although the news declared that the Valish were handling all of these repeated shocks with a stoic determination, although the new First Councillor urged everyone to live their lives as normal without disruption, it seemed to Pyrrha now that not only were his urgings falling upon deaf ears, but at the same time, the assertions of the news appeared to be based more in hope than in reality.

Especially when those same news sources were grimly predicting huge losses for the hospitality industry.

That, at least, was substantiated by the evidence of Pyrrha's own eyes: the pubs and cafes that they passed as they walked down the street all had signs out in front of their doors proclaiming that they were open for business in ways that made them seem ever so slightly desperate.

Mind you, considering the sparse and empty states of some of them — the cafes where you could see in through the windows and see for yourself exactly how many empty tables there were — Pyrrha could accept that they had cause for desperation.

It seemed that, despite the presence of police and soldiers on the streets — they had passed five police cars since leaving the skydock, and there were as many soldiers on patrol in some streets as there were ordinary people going about their business — the people of Vale did not feel safe in their own city.

Pyrrha felt sorry for them. She felt sorry for all of the Valish, whose city had been battered and hammered and wounded, but strangely enough, she felt most sorry for the people working in the empty bars and coffee shops, whose jobs would be at risk if things didn't turn around soon.

Hopefully, the Vytal Festival would restore their fortunes; although thinking of the Vytal Festival reminded Pyrrha that her own kingdom had not yet made up its mind what it intended to do about the Vytal Festival just yet, although the council of the court was expected soon. If Atlesians and Mistralians decided to stay at home, as so many Valish were staying at home, then all these places might struggle to survive.

Although she found it hard to condemn them for staying at home after what they'd been through. It was one thing to say, as she had to Sunset, that they must live on, but there was a difference between that and needless risk. If people had decided that going out represented the latter rather than the former, then who was Pyrrha Nikos to tell them they were wrong?

Pyrrha was out, not only with her own teammates but also with Team YRBN — minus, of course, Blake, who had reached Atlas by now. Arslan had joined them too, claiming boredom and the need for a change of scenery. She might even have been telling the truth.

In any case, their party of eight was the largest that Pyrrha had seen on the streets that day as they wandered ever so slightly aimlessly through the quiet Vale. Aside from just getting out of school, no one had anything that they pressingly wanted to acquire — at least not that they'd mentioned — and so, they simply walked, heading in the vague direction of the ice cream parlour where Jaune's friend worked, sometimes drifting into shops that were empty or nearly so as the fancy took one of them.

"It sure is quiet, huh?" Ruby observed, matching Pyrrha's own observations.

"Hmm," Sunset murmured.

"So it appears," Pyrrha said.

"Is everyone really staying home?" Yang asked. "I mean what are they doing? Watching TV?"

"Some of them are probably watching movies too, or playing video games," Arslan said. "But yeah, TV watching will be a big part of it; they'll be switching to the news every so often to check if it's safe to come out."

"But it is safe to come out," Yang declared.

"Is it?" Arslan asked.

"Yes!" Yang cried. "We beat the grimm, the tunnel got sealed up, the White Fang got nearly wiped out. I mean, in a way, it's kind of safer now than it was before all of this started."

"I'm not sure that a lot of people feel that way," Jaune said. "I get what you're saying, but I think you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who actually feels safer now than they did when they could … when they could just pretend that the White Fang weren't a problem and that the grimm were always going to stay away."

"When it was morning in Vale," Sunset muttered. "Like Councillor Aris' campaign speech."

"It doesn't feel like morning anymore," Jaune said, and said it so disconsolately that Pyrrha didn't know whether he was talking about the Valish or about himself.

She slipped her hand into his and squeezed it gently.

"So … what?" Yang asked. "People are just going to hide in their homes getting takeout delivered for the rest of their lives?"

"No," Arslan said. "It'll pass."

"Do you really think so?" Jaune asked her.

Arslan scratched the back of her head with one hand, her fingers disappearing into the untidy mane of her hair. "Where I grew up, these kinds of robberies that got the city into such a tizzy — as I understand — and started the pebbles falling on your councillor getting thrown out, that was all a Friday night 'round ours on the lower slopes. Where I grew up, we had real gangsters, the kind that would have ripped out this Roman Torchwick's throat with their teeth."

"I think you're underestimating Roman Torchwick a little," Pyrrha said mildly.

"And you don't know the people who ran the neighbourhoods down the hill, P-Money," Arslan replied. "There were killings, there were firefights, and nobody bothered to cover their tracks at all because they knew that no one was going to touch them for it."

"What about the police?" Ruby asked.

"Scared or paid off," Arslan said.

Ruby frowned. "Was this before or after the police commissioner got killed?"

"That didn't make any difference as far down as I'm talking about," Arslan said. "Yes, they put the criminals in their place, as it were, but their place was down where we lived. Some of them kept grimm as pets, to execute people they didn't like."

"That sounds incredibly unwise," Ren said.

"It was," Arslan said. "One night one of them got out, everyone barricaded their doors and windows until a huntsman finally showed up to kill it."

Pyrrha's brow furrowed. "I don't remember that."

"You didn't exactly live in that neighbourhood," Arslan pointed out.

"I know," Pyrrha conceded. "But I'm surprised that a grimm getting loose in the city wasn't reported on. I'm surprised it didn't cause a panic."

"That's probably why it wasn't reported on," Arslan said. "Anyway, my point is that after something like that — or after the worst stuff, anyway — people would be on edge for a little bit. They'd stay indoors more than usual, they'd only go out for necessities … and then, after a few days, if nothing else happened, then everyone would calm down again, and things would get back to normal. Because you're right: it's no way to live, but you can't blame people for being scared, and you can't blame scared people for being cautious. It's just the way things are, and the press trying to tell everyone what to think or some politician telling people what to do isn't going to change that. People know how they feel, and sometimes, how they feel has to be left to change on its own."

"It's not about being scared," Nora said. "We're all scared, and there's so much to be scared of; the difference is what you do with that fear; you can't let it control you."

"Do you want to knock on some doors and tell people that?" Arslan asked.

Nora made a wordless rumbling noise in the back of her throat but said nothing.

"Hopefully things will pick up, just like you say," Yang said.

The group lapsed into silence for a moment, the sounds of their footfalls on the street the only noise that they were making, before Pyrrha said, "Arslan, you said that that grimm that got loose from those rather foolish criminals was killed by a huntsman."

"Yeah," Arslan said. "Why?" She grinned. "Please don't tell me you're astonished that I didn't have a moment where I realised that, after a huntsman saved my life, I would be inspired to work to become a huntress myself and save others the way that I had been saved. That's a little bit of a cliché, don't you think? And anyway, it's not like the grimm got into our house, and the huntsman got there in the nick of time."

"I suppose that was rather trite of me," Pyrrha conceded. "I apologise."

"So why do you want to become a huntress?" Ruby asked.

"She doesn't," Sunset said.

"Really?" Yang asked. "Then what are you doing here?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Arslan said. "It's … okay, it's true, that the reason I went to Haven was so that I could fight in the Vytal Festival."

"Really?" Ruby asked, sounding rather disappointed.

"Don't say it like that; it's not that unworthy a motive," Arslan said.

"Actually, yeah, it is," Ruby said. "Huntsmen and huntresses are meant to protect people, not fight in contests to make themselves look good. The tournament is for fun; it's not the reason why we ought to be here. What if you took a spot from someone who understood what it really means to be a huntress?"

Arslan folded her arms. "That's a lot of self-righteousness in a few words. I'm not sure I appreciate it."

"Well, maybe I don't appreciate—"

"Ruby," Pyrrha cut her off, a warning in her tone. She had her disagreements with Arslan and her attitude, but the Golden Lion had her pride, and if Ruby let her words run away with her, then it could easily end in a duel.

Arslan met Pyrrha's gaze for a moment. "In any case, that was before."

"Before the Breach?" Jaune guessed.

"Mmhmm," Arslan replied. "I've never seen anything like it."

"None of us had," Ren pointed out.

"Yeah, but I bet some of you had imagined something like it, hadn't you?" Arslan said. "I hadn't. When I think back on it … when I imagine what that could have done if it had shown up in Mistral …"

"It scarcely bears thinking about," Pyrrha murmured.

"So maybe you're right," Arslan said to her. "Maybe there is some value in all of this, this line of work. Maybe there's some value in committing to it."

Pyrrha's eyebrows rose. "You're going to leave the arena? You're going to retire and become a huntress?"

Arslan shrugged. "I'm thinking about it. I haven't made up my mind one hundred percent yet, but … when I think about what those grimm would have done back home. Beowolves swarming down the lower slopes. Ursai smashing the neighbourhood to pieces. You were right, Pyrrha: someone needs to stand up."

"And that someone is you?" Pyrrha asked gently. "What about all your fans?"

Arslan grinned. "I've actually been thinking about that too; it occurs to me that the only reason why nobody knows about huntsmen and huntresses is because nobody tries to publicise them. But you and me, we're already famous, so there's no reason why we can't publicise ourselves! Or have ourselves publicised, at least! Even if I do decide to become a huntress, it's no reason I have to fire my agent. I've got it all worked out for if I make a go of this: I'm going to find someone who is willing to travel around with me and chronicle my adventures on a blog, or serialised in a magazine, or both. Preferably someone my age and good-looking so that our frisson of romantic tension will provide a long-running subplot to all the action."

"I'm still not sure you're taking this as seriously as it should be taken," Ruby said.

"If a thing is worth doing," Arslan replied, "it is worth other people knowing that you're doing it and how. Jaune, you should learn to write."

"Jaune," Pyrrha declared, asperity lacing her voice, "is my partner, not my biographer."

"I think that sounds like a pretty great idea," Nora said, "Ren—"

"No," Ren said firmly. "I'm not doing that."

"It does sound like a fine idea," Sunset said, although her voice was soft, and Pyrrha, at least, had to strain her ears a little to hear it. "I hope that you still feel like carrying it off by the time that you graduate."

"Is there any reason why I wouldn't?" Arslan asked.

Sunset hesitated for a moment. "You may find," she said, "that there comes a time at which the desire for glory, for fame, the desire to be lauded and praised above all others … it all fades to nothing. A moment when you reach … the end of vanity. When you realise that all the honours that you sought, all the things you thought you wanted … they mean nothing. Less than nothing."

"Sunset," Pyrrha murmured. Is there nothing that can be said to lift you out of this abyss?

"Then what's left?" Arslan asked.

"Friendship," Sunset said, the corner of her lip twitching upwards. "Love."

"Easy for you to say; half my teammates can't stand me," Arslan muttered. "So it'll have to be glory, as it always has been. That … and inspiring the generations that come after. You can say that my ideas aren't fitting for a huntress, but why not? Why shouldn't people know what huntsmen and huntresses do for them? Why shouldn't kids learn that they don't have to be afraid of the monsters, that they can grow up strong enough to kill them?"

"Well … when you put it like that," Ruby murmured.

"You've put a lot of thought into this for something that you haven't actually made up your mind to do," Pyrrha observed.

"It's eighty-twenty," Arslan said. "If I manage to beat you in this tournament, I'll do it for sure."

Pyrrha chuckled. "It would almost be worth throwing the fight in order to see that happen."

Arslan pointed at her, the smile sloughing off her face. "Do that, P-Money, and I will never forgive you."

"I know," Pyrrha said. "That's why I said 'almost.'"

"So, you're definitely staying for the Vytal Festival, then?" Jaune asked. "I know that Mistral and Haven weren't really sure—"

"What?" Yang demanded. "Haven's going to pull out of the Vytal Festival?!"

"Not necessarily," Pyrrha said.

"Haven is thinking about pulling out of the Vytal Festival?" Yang rephrased. "Can they even do that?"

"No one can be forced to fight in the tournament against their will," Ren remarked.

"But if they do that," Ruby said, "then what does that mean? What kind of a symbol of unity is it when one of the four schools doesn't want to take part?"

"There'll still be Mistralians competing," Nora pointed out. "Like me and Ren and Pyrrha."

"And I'm not backing out, no matter what Professor Lionheart or the Council says, even if I have to solo all three rounds," Arslan declared.

"But still," Ruby murmured. "Are they really thinking about pulling out? Taking their students home?"

Pyrrha nodded. "There are some who are as scared as anyone here in Vale. But nothing has been decided yet. And I hope that they will decide to continue onto the festival and the tournament."

"It would be kind of late to turn back now, when everything has kind of settled down," Yang said.

"Except that Cinder's still out there," Ruby said.

Pyrrha did not miss the way that Sunset flinched as she said that, and she did not like it.

"Yeah, but she's just one person," Yang said. "She's got no allies left, and she's got no plan, so what's she going to do?"

Pyrrha nodded. It was true that Yang was not entirely correct — Cinder was not just one person; she was a finger on the hand of Salem — but her general assessment was undeniable: Cinder had no more followers, no more grimm, no nothing. Her plan had failed. She was defeated, if only for the moment. And though it might be only for the moment, that moment would hopefully last until after the festival was over.

Surely she could not devise a new plan so soon after the failure of the first?

At that moment, before silence could settle too deeply upon the group, the giant screen on the nearby corner, which had been playing various advertisements for health and beauty products, began to broadcast a news bulletin.

"Good afternoon and welcome to The Lavender Report with me, Lisa Lavender. We go live now to Regent Street where First Councillor Aspen Emerald is giving a press conference."

The image of Lisa Lavender in the studio, seated upon her red sofa, was replaced by the exterior of the First Councillor's residence, with a podium set up in front of the door just as it had been when Aspen Emerald had taken office not too long ago.

And once more, Councillor Emerald stood behind the podium, resting his hands upon the varnished wood.

He looked straight into the camera. "People of Vale," he said, "friends and citizens. When I took office, I promised that the first priority of my administration would be the security of Vale. That is, as a former colleague reminded me, the first duty of any administration, and in the current circumstances, it is clearly not a duty that can be ignored.

"I know that many of you have grave concerns about the security of our kingdom, and though I wish to assure you now that this Council is doing everything it can to make this kingdom safe and secure against all threats and enemies, I must be honest with you that some of these measures will take time. Negotiations to purchase ships and weapons, the reports on the readiness or otherwise of our civic infrastructure, the training and possible expansion of our defence forces, all of these things will take time. But, while the Council works to shore up our defences and ensure that there will be no repeat of the Breach, I propose to utilise at once Vale's greatest resource: you, the people of Vale." He gestured at the camera and, thence, to everyone who might be watching.

"The Council has decided to form a new corps of volunteers who, in case of emergency, will resist any assault on Vale by any means necessary. Any volunteers, and we appeal for as many volunteers as have the courage and the capacity to serve, will not be required for continuous service, although you are encouraged to drill and train against the unlooked for eventuality of another assault upon our kingdom. You will not be paid, but you will be given uniforms, and you will be armed. This new corps will be known as the Home Guard, and you — the people of Vale — will be the last bastion of the defence of Vale in extremis. Your safety, and your security, will be in your hands."

"That was the First Councillor with a radical announcement. Joining me is retired—"

"Are they serious?" Ren demanded, with an aggression in his voice that Pyrrha had never heard before. "They're going to arm anybody, untrained civilians, and tell them to fight the grimm if there's another attack?"

"I know it's not the greatest idea—" Jaune began.

"It's a terrible idea!" Ren snapped. "If just anyone could fight off the grimm, then why would anyone need to go to combat school, why would anyone need to go to Beacon?"

Jaune looked down at his feet, his feet which shuffled uncomfortably upon the pavement, and said nothing.

Ren went on, "Even someone who was skilled and trained, someone who knew how to use weapons, how to fight and survive, even someone like that would struggle against the creatures of grimm, even they wouldn't be able to stand up to them. People will join this 'Home Guard' because they have a fantasy of defending their homes, but in the end, all that they'll be is fodder!"

"Ren," Nora murmured.

"Stupid," Ren growled. "Senseless. Doesn't anyone ever learn anything from—?"

"Ren!" Nora cried, grabbing him by the hand.

Ren gasped, his gaze flying to her, looking down on her. He looked as though he half wanted to recoil from Nora's grasp, but he did not. He fell silent, and his breathing seemed to grow heavier.

"It's okay," Nora said, her own voice calm. "It's going to be okay."

Ren's chest rose and fell. "Will it?" he asked. "Do you really believe that?"

"I do," Nora said, gently and with great tenderness. "I know … I understand, but …" She smiled up at him. "All those people won't be necessary, because we'll be there. We'll stand in front of them, so that they don't get hurt."

Ren hesitated for a moment. "We will? We will."

Nora nodded. "We will."

"You bet we will," Yang added.

Ren closed his eyes. "Jaune, I'm sorry; I shouldn't have snapped at you—"

"It's okay," Jaune assured him. "You … you made a good point."

"We're not even talking about soldiers here; we're talking about people," Ruby said. "And if people could defend themselves against the grimm … well, there wouldn't be a need for huntsmen, would there?"

"He's doing what he thinks is right," Sunset said.

"I'm sure," Pyrrha said, "but I think the First Councillor may be as afraid as his people."

"Hmm," Yang murmured. "Let's hope that sorts itself out after a few days too, huh?"

They walked on, down the unusually empty streets, where even the betting shops that had been so full of hollow-eyed addicts before now were bereft of custom; it seemed almost that the people most numerous on the streets were beggars.

"Spare any lien? Spare any lien, ladies and gents, so I can get a bed for the night?" one asked. He looked … it felt rather cruel even to think so, but he looked rather less ragged than most of the homeless one saw on the streets of Vale; he also looked less prepared for it, lacking any sort of warm coat or blanket with which to cover himself, only a lightweight jacket which seemed like it wouldn't do much when the cold set in. "Please, ladies and gents, I lost my home in the Breach; any spare lien so I can get a bed for the night?"

Sunset stopped abruptly, halting dead in her tracks even as the rest of the group kept moving for a little while before they noticed.

"Sunset?" Pyrrha asked.

Sunset didn't reply; she crossed the road — there was no need to look both ways — to where the homeless man sat in his lightweight jacket. "You… you lost your home in the Breach?" she asked.

He nodded. "Atlesians blew it up when they dropped all their bombs. Lost everything I own. I know it had to be done in order to keep the grimm out, but what am I supposed to do now, eh?"

"You don't have anywhere else to go?" Ruby asked as the others crossed the road to join Sunset. "No friends, family?"

He shook his head. "No, I…" He blinked. "You're Sunset Shimmer, aren't you?" He looked at Pyrrha, then at Yang, "And you're Pyrrha Nikos, and you … you were all there, weren't you?"

"I wasn't," Ruby admitted shamefacedly.

"You were there down the tunnel; that's close enough," Sunset murmured.

"Yes, sir," Pyrrha said. "We were there."

For a moment, she thought that he might berate them for failing to stop the grimm, for making it necessary that his house be bombed, but then he smiled and said, "Bless you, ladies and gents, bless you all. Thank you for what you did that day."

"You don't need to thank us," Sunset muttered.

"If it wasn't for you, I might not be here to complain about not having no house left, mightn't I?" he asked.

Sunset didn't reply to that; she simply reached into her pocket and pulled out an array of lien notes of various denominations. Her hands trembled, and the cards slipped from her hands to land with tapping sounds on the pavement at his feet.

"Here, take them all," she said quickly. "I'm sorry about your house." She walked away, pushing past Yang to get ahead of the group, her footsteps thumping upon the stone beneath.

Pyrrha frowned. She took out a lien card of moderate value from one of the pouches at her belt and handed it to the man. "Here you are, sir; I'm sorry that things came to this. Sunset!"

As the others, all of them, one by one, gave the man some money — it seemed like the least they could do, somehow, for all that he bore them no malice — Pyrrha jogged after Sunset, catching up with her in short order.

"Sunset," she repeated, reaching out to take Sunset by the arm. "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?" Sunset asked. "He needed something—"

"That must have been most of the money you had on you," Pyrrha pointed out.

"So? Perhaps he needs it more than I do," Sunset replied.

"Is that all?" Pyrrha asked.

"What else would it be?"

"Guilt?" Pyrrha suggested. "A guilt which you don't need to feel."

Sunset glanced at her. "You don't need to worry about me so much, Pyrrha."

"Do I not?" Pyrrha responded. "Your behaviour would seem to argue against it."

"I'm fine, I just…" Sunset trailed off. "I'm not unmindful of what you told me, but … moments like that, they bring it home, you know?"

Pyrrha sighed. "Yes," she admitted. "I know. Poor fellow. I wonder how many others there are just like him."

"The Council should do something for them," Ruby said as she caught up with them. "They should … make sure they have somewhere to go to. It's not their fault they lost their homes."

"It's rarely anyone's fault," Ren observed. "And equally rare for anyone to step in and help. The Councils are supposed to serve the needs of the people, but the wealthy and powerful rarely look down and notice the troubles of those beneath them."

"That depends on where you are," Sunset said softly. "There are places where that would not be tolerated."

"But what are the Council supposed to do?" Jaune asked. "They can't just make houses out of thin air."

"They could try and do something about it instead of forming a Home Guard," Yang suggested.

"I'm sure that they're doing the best they can," Jaune said. "I mean, after all, isn't that what most people do in times like this: the best they can?"

"You'd hope so," Pyrrha said.

Yang sighed. "Can we talk about something else?" she asked. "This is all getting kind of depressing. Have you guys heard from Blake in Atlas?"

"Not yet," Sunset said. "I take it you haven't either?"

"No," Yang replied. "I'm giving her some time to get settled in before I start badgering her with calls."

"That must be killing you," Ruby remarked with a hint of mischief in her voice.

"Watch it," Yang said, with mock sternness in her voice. "Or I will turn my energies right back on you, young lady."

They arrived at A&P, the ice cream parlour, where the door was half glass and half wood painted blue, and where the back wall was covered in a mural of flying cows frolicking amidst the clouds, while the wall on the left-hand side as they came in was a Valish cityscape, painted as if at sunset.

As Pyrrha pushed open the door, she thought that something looked odd about that cityscape, something that looked unusual.

It took her a moment to realise that the omission that had thrown her was the complete absence of any sign of the Atlesian warships that had become ubiquitous in the Valish skyline thanks to their presence here over these months past. The realisation left her feeling strange, and a little disconcerted, that something so unusual could so easily come to feel normal, until it felt odd when it was taken away.

Perhaps, in time, it will come to feel so for all of these emergency measures that Vale is taking. Perhaps there will come a time when it feels odd for them not to have a Home Guard standing by in case the grimm return.

Before she could think on that any further, Pyrrha noticed that Jaune's friend Miranda was standing behind the counter.

And she noticed that Miranda was crying.

Her head was bowed, her brown hair dishevelled and her body trembling, wracked with sobs.

Behind her as they came in, Jaune noticed this as well. "Miranda? Miranda, are you okay?"

Miranda looked up. Her blue eyes, which had always been watery, were now even more so; even as she wiped them with the back of her hand, more tears sprung up in their place. Her lip quivered as she said, "Jaune?"

"Yeah," Jaune said, approaching the counter with his arms out. "What's up? What's wrong?"

"It … it's nothing," Miranda said, wiping at her eyes. "I, uh, I see you've got a big group with you, do you all know what you want or do you—?"

"Wait, just wait a second," Jaune insisted, placing his hands down on the counter. "That can wait until after you—"

"No, it can't," Miranda replied. "I still have to work here for a little while, and if anyone from management comes down—"

"Is that really likely?" Sunset asked. "So likely that you can't take a break? I mean, no offence, but it's not like this place is packed out. Unless there are people in the basement we don't know about."

Miranda hesitated. "It has been kind of quiet. You're the first customers we've had all day. Seems like no one wants to come out for ice cream at the moment. I don't blame them." She sagged, leaning against the counter for support. "I'm glad you came by, Jaune. I should have asked you for your number, but … I forgot." She glanced at Pyrrha. "Or perhaps I just didn't want to give you the wrong idea."

Pyrrha walked forwards, to stand by Jaune, "If there is anything that we can do to help—"

"You've done enough," Miranda interrupted. "You … thank you, for what you did. I heard that you were right there at the Breach when it happened. They say that you helped save the city." She smiled. "You're a big hero now, Jaune; what will they say back home?"

Jaune shook his head. "I'm not a hero. I just—"

"Fought as bravely as any of us," Pyrrha said. "And has as much right to claim the name as any of us."

"And more than some," Sunset added.

Miranda smiled slightly, or tried to smile at least. "You should listen to your girlfriend and your team leader," she said. She sniffed. "Anyway, I'm glad that you're here, because it means that I can tell you that I'm leaving. I'm going back home to Alba Longa."

Jaune blinked. "Going home? You don't mean for break, do you?"

Miranda shook her head. "For … for a while. Maybe forever."

"But what about your studies?"

"What about them?" Miranda replied. "This city was just attacked by the grimm! Knowing about poetry or being able to analyse the classics wouldn't have protected me from them, just like … just like it didn't save Pearl."

"Who?" Pyrrha murmured.

"Pearl Wheatley," Sunset said; her voice was hoarse and she looked like she was going to throw up. "One of the five people who died when the beowolf got into that shelter."

Miranda nodded, and a sob escaped. "She was my friend," she whimpered. "We were out shopping, we headed to the shelter, and then … when the grimm came, she … she distracted it so that I could … she told me to run and then … and then she … and then it…" Her body was wracked by a sudden sob.

Jaune reached out and put his arms around her, half pulling her across the counter into his embrace. Miranda kept on sobbing as she buried her head in his chest.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Sunset said, the words tumbling out of her mouth as she stared at Miranda with wide eyes.

Miranda ignored her. "I'm still here until my notice period expires," she said. "And then I'm gone, back home. I can't … I don't want to be here any longer than I have to." She looked up at Jaune. "How can you stand it, Jaune? How can you face that again and again? How can you not be scared?"

"I am scared," Jaune replied. "I'm … I'm scared; sometimes, I'm really scared."

"We're all afraid," Pyrrha said, to Jaune and to Miranda both. "And that is nothing to be ashamed of." She thought that perhaps Ruby was not afraid, but making that point would be of little help to Miranda.

Miranda sobbed. "Then … then why…?"

"Because … because I don't think I could look at myself in the mirror if I didn't," Jaune replied.

Miranda frowned. "Do you think I'm a coward?"

"No," Jaune said firmly. "No, of course not. You have to do what's right for you, Miranda. If you want to go home, then that's fine; who am I to tell you different? I hope you're happy there."

Miranda snorted. "'Happy'? I'm not so sure about that, but at least … at least I'll feel safe there. I can't … I just … every time I hear a dog bark, I feel like I'm going to … I can't stay here any more."

Fear stalks this city, Pyrrha thought, like the only grimm that neither we nor the Atlesians could slay.

Will its rampage ever come to an end?

And what will be the final cost when, or if, it does?

 

[ScipioSmith]

The Court of Mistral​

Swift Foot Thrax sat on the bed, reading the Red Book of the Coliseum.

It was a list of all the arena champions past, stretching back as far as the records themselves stretched back — and beyond, since it included some almost certainly mythic entries at the front — and continuing to the present day.

Although, it had not escaped Swift Foot's notice how the records got shorter the closer one got to the present day. Entries for some of the old champions spanned for pages and pages, as they had not only won arena titles but also slain grimm, led warbands, defeated outlaws, served the Emperor with arms and wits alike. The entry for Pyrrha Nikos, by contrast, could scarcely be called a paragraph; the Pride and Glory of Mistral Reborn, and she could scarcely muster a paragraph for her deeds. Admittedly, she was still very young, and perhaps the reason she had decided to go to Beacon was in hope of adding more deeds to burnish up her entry to something closer to the old length — and this was last year's edition, so when this year's entry came out, there would be something about the Breach in Vale and the battle she had fought there and about her other accomplishments fighting latter day outlaws in the city — but even if that were so, it would be one example going against the grain of all the other examples.

She would be an exception that proved the rule that Mistral was in decline, fallen from the lofty glories of those earlier days.

But Pyrrha was still young, with — gods willing — much glory before her. She had won her first tournament when she was twelve years old. Swift Foot was sixteen years old now, and she hadn't even won a tournament victory, let alone done anything else worthy of note or honour. If only her father had let her enter the Mistral tournament, then maybe… but her father had refused even to contemplate it. He feared that she would lose and embarrass him; he feared that his name would be shamed by the association with a failed daughter.

He had allowed Terri-Belle to compete — and she had won, washing away the stain of her loss in the finals of the Vytal Festival; after that one year of triumph, she had declined to compete again, preferring to retire undefeated; Swift Foot sometimes wondered how much of a hand their father had had in that — but not Swift Foot. She could not be trusted as Terri-Belle had been.

The bed upon which Swift Foot sat was comfortable enough, but not too comfortable — even with the throw cushions strewn atop it — to encourage softness; a rug of alternating pink and purple rectangles sat beneath the bed, and a pair of old stuffed dolls sat upon the floor by the bedside. Swift Foot's rhomphaia, which she had named Ceres' Kiss, hung upon the wall above her bed, together with a pair of crossed javelins. For the rest, her bedroom might have been said to very much resemble one of the rooms at one of the huntsman academies, save that she had it all to herself: there was a wooden desk, a chair, and a bookshelf above, but very little else in the way of decoration or adornment.

When she went to Haven in just over a year's time, she would feel right at home.

She might even prefer it; at least at Haven, she wouldn't have to put up with—

"You're in trouble now, little sister."

Swift Foot looked up from her book to see Shining Light and Blonn Di standing in the doorway; she didn't have an actual door, only a set of curtains blocking the entrance to her room, and those curtains had been pushed back. Her two middle sisters were identical, with the same long blue-green hair worn in long curls cascading down below the shoulder, the same purple eyes — those features were, admittedly, shared with Swift Foot herself — the same sharp angles to their faces, the same statuesque tallness; they even dressed the same, in white one-shouldered gowns that almost, but not quite, revealed one breast to view. The only difference was the side on which they parted their hair and the side on which they wore the single shoulder of their dresses.

Everything else was the same, including the smirks they now wore upon their faces and the malicious glints in their eyes as they beheld their little sister.

"'In trouble'?" Swift Foot asked. "What did I do?"

Shining Light shrugged. "I'm not sure, but Father did say he wanted to see you, and that can't be good."

"We were supposed to fetch you a while ago, but we took our time getting here," Blonn Di added. "So he's probably upset with your tardiness by now. Hurry along."

Swift Foot leapt off the bed. "I'm only late because you made me late!" she protested.

"And you think Father will believe you over us?" Shining Light asked, as the two of them made a little space in the doorway.

"Shining Light!" Swift Foot protested. "Why?"

"Why?" Shining Light repeated. "Because you ask 'why' in that whiny voice, you little brat. Now get going, or it will be the worse for you when you finally do come before Father."

Swift Foot groaned as she ran for the door, passing between her two sisters and starting down the corridor towards the throne room. "You two are the worst!" she shouted behind her as she ran.

"'You two are the worst'!" Blonn Di cried mockingly. "Cry more, little sister!"

"You want this to stop, stop making it so easy!" Shining Light added.

How about you two grow up a little bit? Swift Foot said. Shining Light and Blonn Di were not nearly so old as Terri-Belle, but they were both over twenty and graduated from Haven what was more, and yet, they acted just like they had when they were twelve and took her dolls away to make her cry.

It was no good telling them that, though; they liked to hear Swift Foot complain, but if she complained too much — or if her complaints struck home too much and pricked their pride — then, well, they had other ways of making Swift Foot unhappy.

It wasn't as though she had a door to her room.

Yes, Haven Academy could not come soon enough, in Swift Foot's opinion. She would miss Terri-Belle, but she could use her semblance to talk to her whenever she wanted to, and in the meantime, she would be out of this house, away from her other sisters, away from Father — a little away, at least. She had considered applying to Beacon, like Pyrrha Nikos, or Atlas like Phoebe Kommenos or Turnus Rutulus, but Father might not allow her to stray so far, and at Haven, she was almost guaranteed to be made team leader, just as all her sisters had been.

At Haven, she would have the best chance of showing what she could do.

But that was a year and more off now. For now, she had to get through this interview with Father.

All of Swift Foot's sisters tended to slender tallness, but Swift Foot was slightly less than average height for her age. Like Shining Light and Blonn Di, she had inherited her mother's hair and eyes — and she wore it like them, in long curls; she had considered changing to something more distinct but, well, she liked her hair, and she wasn't going to change it to something that looked worse just because she shared a style with the worst people she knew — but while her elder sisters had inherited their father's features, Swift Foot took after her late mother in being more soft of face. She sometimes wondered if that was why Father thought her weaker than the rest; or perhaps she really was weak, and he was wise enough to realise it.

Either way, Swift Foot ran as fast as her sandal-clad feet would carry her to the throne room, where her father sat in the Chair of Stewardship before the throne. The entrance to the throne room was guarded by a pair of enormous statues, two black onyx horses rearing up, their hooves thrashing in their air, their mouths opened as if they meant to devour some enemy or trespasser with their teeth. Swift Foot had never liked those statues; they had frightened her when she was a little girl, and she liked them little better now. She passed beneath them as swiftly as she could and tried to put them from her mind.

The Imperial Throne of Mistral sat upon a raised dais, reachable by a long purple carpet that crossed the centre of the room. Three steps led up to the throne of gold, which was surrounded by jagged spikes of grey stone as though the rock itself, a living thing, had erupted to hedge the seat of Emperors about with defences just as the swords and spears of Mistral had, in elder days, hedged round the Imperial dignity.

Her father, Lord Diomedes, did not sit upon the throne. He sat on a chair of black ebony wood at the base of the dais, and by his side stood Swift Foot's eldest sister, Terri-Belle.

Lord Diomedes was a man turned old by the cares of state; his hair and bristling beard alike were as white as snow and as wild as a winter squall, the beard descending down to his chest and his hair past his shoulders; his eyes were a cold grey, like iron, and his face was as broad and hard as any brawler from the lower slopes — if his eyes were grey as iron, then his face was the anvil on which the iron would be beaten into shape. His shoulders were broad, and he wore a crimson toga over a segmented cuirass of bronzed metal, while a guard of just such a bronze colour protected his brow and nose.

Terri-Belle, who stood beside him, was tall, her arms and legs toned with muscle; she was dressed, as was her habit, as a warrior, clad in an armoured cuirass which guarded her chest, stomach, and some of her shoulders, but left her arms bare down to the heavy vambraces that she wore strapped to both her wrists. Studded pteruges guarded her thighs and covered up the short blue skirt she wore beneath. Her hands, and two of the four fingers upon each of them, were covered by black gloves which left her remaining fingers bare. A spindly silver armband encircled her left arm. Her horn was at her hip, and her spear, Thunderbolt, was in her hand, the butt resting upon the floor.

Swift Foot approached and dropped to one knee before her father's seat, bowing her head.

"You're late," her father said, his voice curling with disapproval.

"I'm sorry, Father—"

"In this room, you call me lord," Lord Diomedes reminded her.

Swift Foot swallowed. "Of course, my lord. I'm sorry, I was—"

"I am not interested in your excuses," Lord Diomedes declared. "We will discuss an appropriate punishment later, but now, to business, since we have so little time remaining."

Terri-Belle took a step forward. "Father has decided that you will attend court today, at my side."

Swift Foot looked up, a gasp escaping. She would attend court? With the lords and councillors? "Why?"

"Do you not wish to be of service to Mistral and to me?" Lord Diomedes demanded.

"I do," Swift Foot said quickly. "Of course I do; I merely—"

"Then it is time," Terri-Belle said. She approached, looming over Swift Foot until she knelt down beside her and placed one hand firmly, but not uncomfortably, upon her youngest sister's shoulder. "Watch, listen, and say nothing." She smiled. "For the most part, that is what Father himself will do. What a wise lord does: listen, take counsel, sort the wisdom from the folly, and only at the end decide what advice is good to follow."

Swift Foot nodded. "And what will you do?"

"I will speak," Terri-Belle said. "As it is required for someone to speak. Now up; they will be arriving soon."

Swift Foot climbed to her feet. "What of Shining Light and Blonn Di?"

"Your sisters will be meeting with the Merchants' Guild and the Most Ancient and Honourable Company of Caravaneers," Lord Diomedes said, sounding as though the notion bored him. "To assure them that the convoys to and from Mistral will not be threatened."

"And why is that important?" Terri-Belle asked.

Swift Foot rolled her eyes. "Because thanks to the Company's influence, overland convoys are still the most common form of intra-continental transport," she recited.

Terri-Belle's lips twitched. "Correct."

"You coddle her too much," Lord Diomedes said. "To know so little deserves no praise." He affixed her with his gaze. "And how does the Company sustain its power?"

This one required a little thought. "Organised crime?" she said, half-guessing. It was something like that; at least one of the grand old guilds was hip-deep with the gangs that infested the lower slopes; it was the pinnacle of said gangs' influence, though not of the guilds themselves. Their voices were heard in the councils of the high and in the gutters of the low — and they owned everything in between. In some ways, they were more powerful than some lords. Or at least more influential.

Lord Diomedes nodded. "You are not completely without wisdom then, I see."

Whatever else might have passed between them was interrupted by the arrival of a robed servant, dressed in the livery of the palace, who bowed from the waist before announcing, "Lady Nikos, my lord."

Lady Nikos entered the throne room, tall and proud, walking with the aid of an ebony cane. She passed beneath the equine statues as though they meant nothing to her. Terri-Belle and Swift Foot stood aside for her as she approached, so that none might stand between her and the steward.

When she had reached about the point at which Swift Foot had bowed, she too bowed, placing both hands upon her cane as she bowed from the waist. "My Lord Steward," she said. "I hope you will forgive a failure to genuflect; I fear I would be unable to rise again."

Lord Diomedes chuckled. "Fear not, my lady; our dignity is not more precious than your comfort. Welcome, I am glad that you have decided to grace us with your presence. I have missed your wisdom in the council chamber these years passed."

"You do me kindness, or else you flatter me," Lady Nikos declared. "For myself, I think I have given Mistral a greater gift than any counsel I gave to you, my lord."

"Though she is far away, and farther than some of us would wish, your daughter's actions burnish Mistral's glory, my lady," Terri-Belle said. "Be welcome."

"Thank you, Lady Terri-Belle," Lady Nikos replied. "And Lady Swift Foot, a welcome surprise to see you here."

Swift Foot bowed her head. "My lady."

"Lord Rutulus, my lord," the same servant who had announced Lady Nikos' arrival now declared. "And … ahem, Miss Camilla Volsci."

Swift Foot glanced up at Terri-Belle, but her eldest sister's face was expressionless, and if she was surprised to hear that Camilla Volsci was here, let alone displeased, she gave no sign of it.

Swift Foot knew who it was, of course; everyone in Mistralian high society knew Camilla Volsci, the faunus girl whom old Lord Rutulus had rescued from traffickers and taken into his own house, to be raised alongside his own children. In Lord Rutulus' absences, she did all the work in representing him and his interests that ought, by rights, have been performed by Lord Rutulus' own sister. But why was she here? Was she allowed to be here, neither noble nor councillor?

The answer came to Swift Foot a moment later: she was allowed to be here so long as no one actively objected to her presence. But would anyone object? Would her father, or her sister?

"There is more wisdom in her than in her lord," Terri-Belle murmured, so softly that her voice carried only so far as Swift Foot. "If she is here with him, I welcome it."

Lady Nikos made way, as Terri-Belle and Swift Foot had made way before her, as Lord Rutulus and Camilla made their way down the centre of the throne room. Turnus Rutulus was a man tall and broad shouldered, his long dark hair streaked with blood red at the tips that curled about his chin; he was unarmed but wore a black cuirass and pteruges over his blood red tunic, as though he feared to be attacked within the palace walls. A tiger stripe sash was bound around his waist, and like all noble Mistralians — save, at present, for Swift Foot, who had not received hers yet — he wore an honour band around his left arm; his was gleaming gold and patterned in such a way that it, too, suggested the stripes of a tiger.

Camilla wore a black dress with a high neckline that embraced her throat but left her pale, fair shoulders bare, descending to a slightly ruffled skirt that stopped just below her thighs. On her right arm, she wore a vambraces that protected her wrist and the back of her hand, while on her left, the vambraces extended all the way up to meet the couter that warded her elbow. Purple sleeves covered her upper arms below the shoulders, while a single rerebrace sat upon her right arm. Her boots were black, and high, and looked stiff enough to offer some protection, leaving only a little of her legs exposed. A dark cuirass protected her belly and one breast, but was half-concealed beneath the bindings of purple cloth, shading softly into white, that descended from her waist down to between her legs; like her master, she wore a tiger stripe sash, but hers was the stripes of a white tiger of the snowy peaks, while her honour band was set with pearls.

Like Lady Nikos before him, Turnus bowed; unlike her, he didn't have the excuse of a bad leg to excuse why he didn't drop to one knee, as Camilla did.

"My lord," Turnus said. "I thank you for your invitation. It is good that the old ways are being revived."

"Not all the old ways, my lord, or else your companion would wear chains," Terri-Belle said.

Turnus looked at her. He hesitated. "Yes, well … progress is a good thing, in many respects. Something I fear that we forget too often. And yet we must not forget that there is a place for some traditions also."

"How very wise of you, my lord," Terri-Belle said. Her voice dropped as she muttered, "Pompous ass."

Turnus did not hear her. Rather, he turned to Lady Nikos. "How now, my lady?" He reached out to take her hand and raised it to his lips. "How is your daughter?"

"Pyrrha was well, when last we spoke," Lady Nikos declared. "Although a trifle melancholy as a result of this dreadful business in Vale."

"The sorrows of others touch a kind heart deeply," Camilla murmured. "Her melancholy speaks well of her."

"And yet I — and many others — would that she were home, and away from such sorrows, as would many in the kingdom," Turnus declared. "If she were to come home, then the whole city would rejoice to see her."

"And yet, my lord, she will not come," Lady Nikos said. "Lady Terri-Belle has tried and been rebuffed in my very presence."

"It is not only melancholy that grips her, but a degree of stubbornness also," Terri-Belle said. Her voice became a trifle mischievous as she added, "Or that which youth calls love."

Turnus' face darkened. "Lady Nikos," he said. "This Valish boy with which Pyrrha demeans herself—"

"'Demeans herself'?" Lady Nikos said. "My opinion of Mister Arc aside, you will not speak of my daughter 'demeaning herself' in my hearing, Lord Rutulus."

"Of course not, forgive me," Turnus said at once. "I am…" He trailed off, and said nothing further as to what he was.

One by one, Lord Diomedes' guests arrived: Professor Lionheart, looking nervously around him as though someone might jump out to scare him in a childish prank; Lady Ming, dressed in a kimono of white; Councillors Ward and Kiyat; Lady Vasilias in a stola of sea blue; the heads of Mistral's grand old houses, those that yet lived, joined by those most prosperous new families who had acquired sufficient wealth to be called noble in all but name. They filled up the throne room with their bodies and with their chatter, talking amongst themselves while Lord Diomedes, silent, watched them all from where he sat hunched on his chair.

Terri-Belle slammed the butt of Thunderbolt down onto the ground. The sound of its crash echoed in the throne room, and silenced the voices of all within.

"My lords, ladies, Councillors, noble citizens of Mistral," Terri-Belle said, walking forward into the empty space in the centre of the room, putting herself in the midst of all the court here assembled. "On behalf of my father, and in my own right as Warden of the White Tower, I thank you for your presence here. As you well know, I hope, if you are not completely incurious, you will know that the Kingdom of Vale recently suffered a grimm attack the likes of which has scarce been seen. We are gathered here to discuss how we may reassure the people that Mistral is as strong and safe as ever and to discuss how we shall respond to this unexpected turn of events."

"Could Mistral withstand such an assault as we have witnessed on Vale?" asked Georgia Yeoh, stepping forward slightly out of the crowd. She was a woman in her late middle years, but with her black hair largely untouched by greys and her skin largely untouched by wrinkles; the Yeoh family was not one of Mistral's most prominent, but they enjoyed the patronage of the House of Ming, and Swift Foot guessed that Ms. Yeoh was acting as Lady Ming's vanguard. "Perhaps the people are right to be nervous."

Terri-Belle's momentary silence gave away that she did not think Ms. Yeoh to be completely wrong. "Let us not become consumed by despair," she said. "We are not so foolish as the Valish as to have a tunnel running from grimm-controlled territory to underneath the city; there is no easy way for the grimm to circumvent our walls. And, I am sure that, if the city were to come under attack, then every warrior in the city would take up arms in its defence."

"And how many warriors are left in the city?" Lady Ming asked. "Lady Terri-Belle, is it not so that many huntsmen are late returning from their missions, in some cases weeks overdue?"

The court broke out in murmurings and whispers. Swift Foot saw Terri-Belle clench one hand into a fist.

"Peace, good people, I pray you," Terri-Belle said. She hesitated for a moment. "It is so," she admitted, which only led to the murmuring, so recently stilled, breaking out once more. "Peace, I say again," she cried. "I mean to set out tomorrow and search for our missing huntsmen, and I for one yet have hope that some of them may be found alive."

"Then where are they?" Lady Ming demanded. "If they have not returned — after so long, in some cases — then must we not assume that they are dead? Lionheart, how many huntsmen remain in the city and accounted for?"

"Uh … sixty, or perhaps seventy," Professor Lionheart said.

"You don't sound very certain," Camilla pointed out. "And does that include the Imperial Guard?"

"One would hope not, or we are in trouble," Lady Ming said.

"N-no," Professor Lionheart stammered. "No, it does not."

"The Imperial Guard has not escaped unharmed from this … whatever is causing the disappearance of our huntsmen," Terri-Belle admitted. "But I can yet muster forty-seven spears or swords at my command."

"So that is one hundred and seventeen huntsmen at most," Lady Ming said. "Very few with which to hold a city, even leaving aside the rest of our vast domains."

"There are some huntsmen still scattered across the countryside, continuing to defend the outlying settlements against bandits or grimm," Professor Lionheart ventured.

"Until they are picked off as well like all the rest," Lady Ming said.

"If the city were to come under attack, I have no doubt that we would be able to call on the services of Lord Rutulus and his fighters," Terri-Belle said. "I hope, my lord, that you would not abandon the city in its hour of need."

"The House of Rutulus has always answered Mistral when she calls," Turnus declared. "It has been true in my own lifetime, in fact, and would be true again, if need be. Assuming, of course, that I and my men were in the city."

"So we must count on Lord Rutulus being unemployed," Lady Ming said tartly.

"There are also the tournament fighters who could be mobilised if need be," Terri-Belle said.

"Not enough," Lady Ming insisted.

"I hear a great many criticisms," Lord Diomedes rumbled from his chair, "but I hear far less in the way of solutions; come! This is not a forum for carping, but to hear how we may ready ourselves. Lady Ming, Ms. Yeoh, do you have anything to suggest, or do you only have holes to pick in our arrangements?"

Turnus folded his arms. "Androids would make up the deficiency in manpower," he suggested. "For an order large enough to protect the whole city, I am certain the SDC would give us a fair price. I could even reach out to my contacts and attempt to negotiate a discount."

"How very generous of you, Lord Rutulus," Councillor Kiyat said. "But you are not a Councillor yet, and we have no need of your help negotiating with the SDC."

"It is my understanding," Ms. Yeoh said, "that the SDC androids are of poor quality, practically disposable, unable to withstand attack."

"All valid, but they would be sufficient to man the walls against attack," Turnus said. "And free our limited numbers of capable fighters fit to act as a flying column wherever the attack should be pressed home."

"We cannot rely upon Atlesian toys," Ms. Yeoh declared. "If we must model ourselves upon Atlas, then let it be by the raising of an army."

There was momentary silence in the court.

"An … an army?" Councillor Ward repeated. "An army from where?"

"From amongst the people, Cicero, where else?" Lady Ming demanded.

"Mercenaries?" Councillor Ward suggested.

"Where are we to find them in sufficient numbers?" Lady Ming asked. "And besides, a state that depends upon mercenaries and auxiliaries—"

"Yes, yes, my lady, we are aware," Councillor Ward said quickly. "But this is not a game; citizen armies cannot be conjured out of thin air; they take time to raise and what then? Does anyone believe that commoners pressed into service and given weapons will be able to stand against the grimm? Or even against a reasonably-sized bandit tribe? We will lead the people to their deaths."

"Not to mention that raising an army after so long without one is hardly likely to calm the public anxieties," Councillor Kiyat muttered.

"So we do nothing?" Lady Ming asked. "We sit and wait and tell the people that all is well, and all the while, the tide comes in around our sandcastle?"

"That's ridiculously melodramatic, my lady," Councillor Ward said. "Mistral is not under attack."

"Nor was Vale, until it was," Lady Ming said.

"Have you given any thought as to how this would be done, my lady?" Terri-Belle asked.

"I have," Ms. Yeoh answered. "I have prepared a full dossier with all of my recommendations, if the Warden of the White Tower would care to read it. As the Councillor has pointed out, armies cannot be conjured out of thin air, but by starting with a single regiment or two, we could ensure a solid cadre of troops who are well-disciplined and -equipped, if not experienced, to form the nucleus around which a larger force could be created. I believe the people are wise enough to understand the reasons for our action without panicking unduly. Those of you so concerned that the act of beginning to protect ourselves will bring the grimm to the door should have more faith in the people of Mistral."

"Do you think the people of Mistral will flock to the colours?" Terri-Belle asked.

"Are the lower slopes still not wretched?" Ms. Yeoh asked. "Not everyone who grows up there can be Arslan Altan; there are many, I believe, who would welcome an easier escape from poverty and deprivation."

"And how would you equip this force?" Terri-Belle asked.

"I believe MARS should be able to oblige us, for the right price," said Ms. Yeoh.

"The SDC would give you better value for money," Turnus declared.

"But not better quality, I think, my lord," Lady Ming replied.

Turnus frowned. "I yield to no one here in my admiration for the Atlesian military and its capabilities, but traditionally, the prerogative to raise standing troops in arms — as opposed to raising a levy for a campaign or war — is held not by the kingdom itself but by … not to put too fine a point on it, but by those of us in this room?"

"Would you have us raise an army so, Lord Rutulus?" Lady Nikos asked. "Would you raise a regiment, and then I do the same, and Lady Ming another until the city is awash with armed bands?"

"He's raised a regiment already," Councillor Ward muttered.

Turnus did not look fazed by the response. "Why not?" he asked. "It was how it was always done, how Mistral fought its wars and won the largest territory of any kingdom in Remnant."

"And lost the greatest war," Lady Nikos replied. "And the war against the faunus that followed; I do not regret that we lost that war, for our cause was not just, but nevertheless, the methods with which we fought the war left something to be desired."

"Forces on the Atlesian model, of course," Turnus said. "But who better to lead them than we who are bred and born to command?"

But where will you lead them? Swift Foot wondered. And against who?

"You speak of armies, but what of fleets?" Camilla asked. "Is Mistral to have its own warships, also, in your plan?"

"Of course," Ms. Yeoh said. "We are fortunate to have two ships in mothballs, the Dingyuan and the Zhenyuan, laid down twenty years ago. They were never deployed due to reallocation of resources, but all work was completed on them first; I believe them to be serviceable."

"So do others," Lord Diomedes said. "I have received an offer from the new First Councillor of Vale, Aspen Emerald, offering to buy both vessels from us to augment the strength of their own fleet."

"So we will strengthen the Valish and deprive ourselves?" Lady Nikos asked.

"Is that not what you have done, my lady?" Lady Ming asked. "Strengthened the Valish and deprived us?"

"By all means, sell the Valish our obsolete junk," Councillor Kiyat said. "If we agree that ships are necessary, then squeeze every lien out of Vale and use the money to buy new, modern vessels for ourselves."

"We seem to have come to an agreement that this is necessary," Councillor Ward observed. Swift Foot was inclined to agree.

"Less than a hundred and twenty warriors to defend Mistral, at the most," Lady Ming reminded him. "Does that state of affairs seem as though it can continue to you? As though it should? And that is only assuming that no other huntsmen leave Mistral on assignments from which they do not return."

"I will find out what is causing our huntsmen to disappear," Terri-Belle vowed. "But … I concede there is some force in what you say, my lady."

"Save that the city has survived since the faunus war without an army," Lady Nikos pointed out.

"Indeed, we are discussing vast expenditure for an uncertain purpose," Councillor Ward reminded them.

Professor Lionheart said, "I believe that our graduates from Haven Academy—"

"That your graduates from Haven Academy are not pisspoor is a reflection of their natural quality, not the standards of your instruction, Lionheart," Lady Ming snapped.

"Should we not discuss the question of bringing our students home whilst we are on the subject?" Councillor Ward asked. "I have a son currently at Beacon, as does Lady Vasilias; Lady Nikos has a daughter. And beyond this court, there are the fathers and mothers of every Haven student Mistral born, and of those young Mistralians who decided to seek … other educational opportunities at other academies who are now asking themselves 'is it safe? Should my child remain at Beacon in these present circumstances?' Thank the gods of sea and sky that Pyrrha Nikos was not killed defending what the Valish call the Breach, but if that chokepoint had not been held…"

"It scarcely bears thinking about," Camilla said.

"Indeed," Councillor Ward agreed. "It was bad enough with the White Fang on the rampage, but now this? How can we trust Vale to keep our children safe? How can our people trust Vale to keep our children safe."

"General Ironwood has been appointed head of security for the Vytal Festival," Turnus pointed out. "If we are to model our own military upon the Atlesians, perhaps we should put some trust in the Atlesian military?"

"We have spoken of avoiding an outbreak of public panic," Lady Ming said. "And yet, we propose to withdraw the Haven students, attempt to pull out Mistralian students from Beacon and Atlas, ship them all home in great haste, what does that say except that we are scared?"

"Pyrrha will not come home," Lady Nikos declared, "and while I understand Councillor Ward's concerns, it seems to me, as it seems to my daughter who is there in Vale, that the worst of the danger has past: the threat of the White Fang and the grimm neutralised, as Lady Terri-Belle and I have discussed already."

"It is highly unlikely there are sufficient grimm in Vale for another such attack, and their route into Vale is cut off," Terri-Belle said. "Having failed to bring the students home before now, I suggest we might look rather ridiculous if we did so now that the danger is reduced."

"Not to mention cowardly," Lady Nikos added.

"'Cowardly'?" Councillor Ward gasped.

"Yes, Cicero, cowardly," Lady Nikos repeated. "To flee in the face of danger, is that the act of a Mistralian warrior? Is that what we wish to teach our children, a lesson more detrimental to the next generation of our pride and strength than anything that Leo might teach them — or fail to teach them? What will be said of us in Vale and Atlas if we quit the city and the tournament because we remembered there were grimm in the vicinity? We will be the laughingstock of all Remnant." She paused for a moment. "The reputation of Haven Academy has suffered in recent years. Huntsmen trained at Beacon are more highly regarded for their skill, and those of Atlas for their discipline; but I believe, I hope, that our Mistralian huntsmen yet have a reputation for valour unmatched by any others in the four kingdoms. Will we throw that reputation away now, when the worst of the threat has passed?"

"That is all a very pretty way of saying you wish to see a crown of laurel placed upon your daughter's head, my lady," Councillor Kiyat said, his voice rich with amusement.

Lady Nikos, for her part, did not look offended. "I take comfort from knowing that my personal desires are in alignment with the good of Mistral in this."

Lord Diomedes raised his hand, and the whole court went quiet, waiting to hear what he had decided.

For her part, Swift Foot tried to work out what he would decide, based upon all that he had heard.

It seemed almost that there would be the raising of some sort of army; even Terri-Belle had admitted that they had need of greater strength in their defence. But, equally, Swift Foot was certain that he would not simply grant the lords and ladies the right to raise troops as they wished; he would not grant that much power to those who might use that power against him. No, it would be Lady Ming's proposal, or nothing: an army, yes, but at his own command — or under Terri-Belle's command, at least — that would not threaten him.

But would he sell the Valish the ships? Ships today, or ships tomorrow? That depended, to Swift Foot's mind, on how urgent you thought the need was. If you thought it desperately necessary to put something in the air for the defence of Mistral, then two old hulks were better than nothing, provided the weapons worked; but if you thought that it could wait, then you may as well sell the Valish your old tat while they were desperate and buy yourself something new and shiny with the proceeds. It was certain that the Valish were desperate, but what about Mistral?

Desperate enough to raise an army for the first time in decades. While Mistral was not under threat, it was clear that the Breach had rattled them; Swift Foot was surprised by the lack of people trying to mount a defence of the old ways. But then, the old ways had been dying in Mistral for some time. The city clung to its past, but no matter how desperately it clung to it, that past slipped through its fingers all the same. There was a reason why Pyrrha Nikos was known as the Evenstar: she harkened back to a time almost vanished, the last gleaming of a light that would soon be extinguished by the blazing sun of an uncertain future.

In the old days, the Emperor had allowed the Lords Rutulus and Thrax and Ming and all the rest to raise their retinues in arms, confident that that they would never turn that strength against the throne: the honour of those noble houses had been too great, and had any family so shamed themselves as to take up arms against the throne, then every other noble line would have leapt to swords and spears in defence of the House of Victory.

The line of Thrax was not so sacrosanct, nor was the rank of Steward. Swift Foot knew that it rankled with Terri-Belle that their father was not called an Emperor, or King at the very least, but in Mistral, it was not simply a question of how long it took to make a steward a sovereign, nor was it simply a question of the rightful royal line continuing to hang around like a bad smell — or even such a wonderful smell that it reminded people of why their Thracian scent paled in comparison … there was only one royal line in Mistral, and that line stretched back even to the very founding of the kingdom, encompassing wars, triumphs, disasters, periods when Mistral had been conqueror and conquered; romance, pride, heroism, glory beyond imagining, the line of Nikos had presided over all of it. What was the stewardship compared to that? What was a family that had only ever held second place until less than a hundred years ago, and that had secured its power through double-dealing and shady arrangements with faunus warlords?

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Perhaps the Breach had not really rattled the court nearly so much as it seemed; perhaps it was really just an excuse to put the old ways out of their misery once and for all.

Lord Diomedes said, "We will not withdraw our students from the Vytal Festival. We will not flee after the battle is already won, and we will not cast aside Mistral's best chance of victory in ten years." He favoured Lady Nikos with a smile. "That said, we take heed of the concerns expressed with regards to the state of our defences, and for that reason, my lord Rutulus, we will be most gratified if you will reach out to your friends in the north and begin negotiating for the purchase of a large number of these combat androids. The Council will, of course, review the terms before any payment is made."

"My Lord Steward," Councillor Ward began. "Lord Rutulus—"

"Will serve us well in this while you, Councillor, make contact with the Valish Council and begin negotiating for the sale of the Dingyuan and the Zhenyuan. And, while we feel the age of private armies has passed, we are minded to consider the proposals of Ms. Yeoh for a gradual increase in our martial strength. Ms. Yeoh, if you will submit this dossier you speak of to my daughter, the Warden of the White Tower and commander of any army we should raise, then she will evaluate it and give me — and the Council — her final recommendations. My lords and ladies, Councillors and noble citizens, does any voice dissent from this course?"

No one spoke. It was much as Swift Foot had expected, and for that part which she had not guessed — they were selling the ships.

Almost as if this was really about power after all.

But then, with her family, was it ever really about anything else?

 

[ScipioSmith]

The Changing World​

"Salutations!" Penny cried, waving eagerly from the other side of the scroll.

"Hi, Penny!" Ruby called out from where she sat on a chair, waving back. "You're okay!"

"And so are you!" Penny yelled. "I'm sorry I couldn't call sooner, I would have as soon as you woke up, except that I couldn't because I was too badly damaged to move or speak."

Ruby giggled. "It's fine, Penny, I understand. I'm just glad that you're better now."

Penny smiled. "And are you better now too, Ruby?" she asked.

"Yep!" Ruby declared. "I'm one hundred percent combat ready and raring to go!"

"Where are you going?"

"Well, nowhere right now," Ruby admitted. "But if I need to go anywhere, then nothing will stop me."

"Ah, I understand," Penny said. "I too am once more fully capable of autonomous motion, but have no destination to proceed to for now."

Pyrrha laughed from where she stood at Ruby's side and had to bend over in order for her face to be seen. "It's wonderful to hear your voice again, Penny."

"And it's great to see you up and about too," Jaune added; he was stood on the other side of Ruby, and likewise had to bend quite a bit in order to make himself seen by her.

"Thank you," Penny replied. "It feels good to hear my own voice again as well. I was glad to be able to talk to people, but it was weird not sounding like me."

"So how does it feel to be back on your feet?" Sunset asked. She was standing over Ruby and didn't have to bend down quite as much as the other two in order to place her head just above that of Ruby herself.

"It feels…" Penny thought about that for a moment. "It feels back to normal," she concluded, "but better."

"'Better,' eh?" Sunset asked. "That sounds promising."

"Did they give you some upgrades while they were making the repairs?" Jaune asked.

"No," Penny said. "I still possess all my previous capabilities."

"Really?" Sunset couldn't keep the surprise out of her voice. "Even after what happened? You'd have thought that they would have changed up some stuff. Even if it was only giving you new wires that were resistant to shocks."

"I haven't asked, because I don't really know how to ask," Penny said, "but I think that it may be hard to make changes to me, either practically or because my father would need to get approval first. And besides, I'm not sure that I'd want to be given a lot of upgrades while I was damaged and unable to move or respond. This is my body, and myself, and even though it isn't perfect, it's still mine. Having someone change it, replace parts of me, even to make them better, it would be like someone cutting your hand off to give you a prosthetic — even if the functionality was superior, you wouldn't like it."

Sunset winced. "You've got a good point there," she muttered. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's alright, Sunset; I know what you meant," Penny assured her. "And to be honest, I wouldn't mind changing myself, but I want that to be my choice, and not something that anyone else decided for me, even if they had my best interests at heart."

Pyrrha had a smile upon her face as she asked, "So what did you mean, Penny, when you said that you felt better than before?"

Penny was silent for a moment. "I feel as though Rainbow Dash and Ciel have been trying to understand me better," she said. "To be honest, I'm still not sure Ciel actually does understand me, but she's trying, and I think she might even end up understanding herself a little better too. I'm glad; I mean I'm glad that they're trying, even if they don't always succeed. I think they both understand that I don't want what my father does, or General Ironwood, or the people who authorised my creation; I want what I want. I think they both realise that, even if Ciel doesn't agree with it."

"Doesn't agree how?" demanded Ruby. "Does she think that you should do what other people want? Be what they want?"

"It's not that bad," Penny replied. "Well … maybe it is, but she doesn't mean to be. She doesn't think that I'll be able to be anything other than what I am, and she doesn't want me to be hurt."

"And will you?" Sunset asked. "I mean, will you be allowed to be anything else?"

Penny paused for a moment. "I hope so," she said quietly, her voice acquiring a touch of solemnity about it. "But even if I can't, I'm still going to try!"

"I, for one, think that you'll do it, Penny," Pyrrha said.

"And if you need any help, you can always just ask us anytime," Ruby added.

Penny's smile lit up her eyes. "Thanks, girls. Thank you so much. I can't believe how lucky I was to meet all of you." She glanced at Sunset. "Sunset, do you know when—?"

"I haven't heard back that that's ready yet," Sunset told her. "But I'll pass on to Princess Twilight that you're ready to go, and maybe I'll get a response on where she is with getting the portal to work."

"I can't believe that Penny is getting to visit your home before we do," Ruby groused mildly. "Not that I'm not happy for you, Penny, it's just that—"

"It would feel really weird if you went to Equestria without me," Sunset said. "Penny and Blake … it doesn't feel as weird."

"You know that the obvious thing there is for you to come with us, right?" Jaune pointed out.

"Sure," Sunset murmured. "I'm just … not there yet."

Silence greeted this particular pronouncement. Pyrrha reached out and awkwardly patted Sunset on the shoulder.

Sunset rolled her eyes. "Well, that killed the mood, didn't it?"

"What do you mean?" Penny asked.

"Well, if you notice the way that—"

"What do you mean about not going back?" Penny explained impatiently. "Is something wrong?"

"With Equestria? No, you're going to love it," Sunset said quickly. "But I … would rather not talk about it." She glanced left and right, as though she could see more of the room in which Penny stood than was currently visible in the scroll. "Are you on your own in there?"

"For now," Penny said. "Rainbow and Ciel are getting ready."

"Ready for what?" Pyrrha asked.

"Rainbow's friends are holding a welcome home party," Penny explained. "And Blake's going too, even though she's never been here before."

"That sounds lovely," Pyrrha said. "But don't you need to get ready yourself? We wouldn't want to keep you."

"Oh, I was given a thorough cleaning as part of my repairs," Penny declared.

"I see," Pyrrha murmured. "But perhaps you want to change into something different from usual?"

Penny was quiet for a moment. "That is a very good point," she allowed. "I should probably do that. I'll talk to you guys later!"

They all called out their goodbyes, the words mingling with one another, forming a morass of kindly sentiments and good wishes, before Penny hung up on her end, and Ruby's scroll turned to black.

Ruby snapped the device shut. "It's good to know that she's okay, isn't it?"

"Not just okay," Jaune reminded her. "Better."

Ruby nodded. "Yeah, it's good that … it's good that they can recognise that they need to treat Penny … better than they did before."

For some reason she glanced at Sunset, and then at Pyrrha too.

"Is everything okay?" Sunset asked.

Ruby hesitated for a moment. "Yeah," she said. "Everything's fine."

"Are you sure?" inquired Pyrrha, her voice gentle.

Ruby looked down at the floor. She licked her lips. "Why did you cut me off in the city, with Arslan? You took her side over mine."

Pyrrha took a step backwards from Ruby. She folded her arms, then seemed to realise what she was doing and consciously unfold them again. "That was not what I thought I was doing."

"What did you think you were doing?"

"I was sparing you a duel," Pyrrha explained. "Arslan told you herself that she would not have tolerated too much insult to her pride."

"Is that what you thought I was doing? Insulting her?"

"It matters little what I thought you were doing," Pyrrha pointed out. "Arslan found your words … too sharp."

"I was surprised," Sunset said. "You didn't go for my jugular when you found out that I only came to Beacon for the … for the fame, the glory." Celestia, what a fool I was.

Ruby shuffled uncomfortably on her seat. "That's … different."

One of Sunset's eyebrows rose. "Different how?"

"You were still going to be a huntress," Ruby pointed out. "Maybe not for the best reasons, but helping people is helping people, right? You weren't going to spend four years here and then walk away at the end." She frowned. "Do you think that I was right about Arslan, or not?"

"Does that matter?" Sunset asked. "It's over and done with now."

"It matters," Ruby insisted. "Do you agree with me?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said quietly, as if she feared that Arslan might hear her. "Arslan's reasons for going to Haven are — or were, at least — rather selfish, and, to speak true, they verged upon the unworthy. I told her so myself, once."

"But you didn't want me to tell her the same thing?"

Pyrrha glanced away. "You … your tongue … you can be quite sharp when it comes to this sort of thing. I feared you would not be gentle with her. Arslan may not live up to — or have lived up to in the past — the standards of a true huntress, but at the same time … what point is there in telling her so now, as she is starting to change? Is it not enough that she is rethinking all of her past attitudes and considering committing herself properly to the path of a huntress?"

"What's this about, Ruby?" demanded Sunset. "Why does it matter that Pyrrha stopped you from reaming Arslan out the way that you'd have liked?"

Ruby looked from Pyrrha to Sunset, then back again, then back to Sunset. She folded her arms and didn't look at either of them, choosing to pout at the dorm room door instead. "I wish you guys would treat me like an equal, is all."

"We don't—" Sunset began, then stopped as Ruby looked at her. "Okay, yes, I do, and I will even admit that I do it on purpose, sometimes. In my defence, you are younger than me."

"Not that much younger," Ruby insisted. "And if I want to say something that gets Arslan so worked up she challenges me to a duel, that's my business."

Sunset raised one eyebrow. "You are aware of how childish it is to say 'I'll get beaten up if I want to,' right?"

"I might win!" Ruby insisted. "You could both stand to have some faith in me as well."

"I have a lot of faith in you, in certain situations," Sunset declared. "But single combat against a Mistralian gladiator isn't one of them."

"You may not want to hear it, Ruby, but Sunset is right," Pyrrha murmured. "You are a little deficient in fighting against other people, as opposed to grimm, whereas it is in fighting other people that Arslan excels. She would destroy you."

"It should still be my choice," Ruby muttered.

"Are we not allowed our care?" Pyrrha asked.

"You're not allowed to take it as far as you like without reference to the people that you say that you care for," Jaune declared, putting a hand on Ruby's shoulder.

Pyrrha blinked. "That I 'say' I care for?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Jaune said hastily. "I know how you feel, and so does Ruby, but that doesn't change the fact that…" He trailed off for a moment. "I love you, and I know that I can always count on you if I'm in trouble," he added to Sunset, looking at her over his shoulder. "But that doesn't change the fact that this team is divided into two halves: people who do, and people who have things done to them. I know that we've already talked about this, Pyrrha, but the fact is that it applies to Ruby just like it applies to me."

"I have promised to make my best endeavours in that regard," Sunset declared defensively. "And the fact is that Ruby has also—"

"And we'll hold Ruby to that, me included," Jaune said. He glanced down at Ruby. "Sorry I can't be one hundred percent on your side, but I'd hate to lose you either."

Ruby let out half a sigh. "It's okay," she murmured. "I'll take what I can get."

"I think you're being very melodramatic about this to describe yourselves as people who are done to," Sunset said. "When have either of you really been done to by us?"

"Well…" Pyrrha said, her shamefacedness clear despite the softness of her tone as she began to play with her crimson sash with both hands.

Sunset rolled her eyes. "Okay, when have I done things to you?"

"I can think of at least one example," Jaune said heavily, his eyes fixed on Sunset.

Right. The Velvet thing. Sunset cleared her throat. "Well… that was in your best interests."

"It's always in our best interests — according to you, but we don't get to make the decision for ourselves. And I think you know that I have a point as well; you just don't like it." Jaune said.

Sunset sucked in a sharp intake of breath. Of course there was an example of Sunset doing to Ruby and Jaune — and to Pyrrha as well, in this particular instance — it was just that Jaune — and Ruby, and Pyrrha — were unaware of it.

"At times," Pyrrha said, "I fear we love not wisely but too well."

"And that's one of the things that I love about you, you have such a good heart," Jaune said. "A strong heart, in so many ways. But the fact that your feelings are so much stronger than ours doesn't mean that ours don't count or that you can just roll over ours and bury them beneath your own."

"I have already given you my word," Pyrrha whispered.

"I know," Jaune said, with almost equal softness. "But perhaps you need to make a promise to Ruby as well."

Pyrrha nodded stiffly, then bowed her head. "Forgive me, Ruby; it was not my place to intervene between you and Arslan, and I shall be more conscious of what is my place in regards to you in future."

"You don't have to be so formal about it," Ruby said. "But … thanks. That would be great. I appreciate that you want to look out for me, I just … it doesn't have to be so … all the time, you know?"

Pyrrha chuckled. "I think I do, yes. I will bear it in mind." She looked at Jaune. "It is a flaw that has been pointed out to me already as one to correct. Hopefully, the future will show that I have done so."

Ruby and Jaune both looked at Sunset, the latter turning around and the former twisting in her seat.

"I'm trying my best!" Sunset squawked loudly. "I'm not going to say that I'll change when I…" She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. "When I don't know that I'll be able to. I'll try, but I make no promises, because I'd rather disappoint you now than break my word later. I know that it's not the answer that you want, but … you know, one reason I'm not going to promise is that I don't want you to feel exonerated from coming to meet me a little as well." She ran one hand over her face and into her fiery hair. "If that sounded too defensive on my part, I apologise." She retreated across the room and sat down heavily upon her bed.

"Are you okay?" Ruby asked.

"I'm fine," Sunset informed her, for all that it was not entirely true. "I am fine. I'm well enough. I'm doing okay."

"That doesn't sound like something someone okay would say," Jaune said.

Sunset let out a little bark of laughter. "When did you become so perceptive?"

"This doesn't really need a huge amount of perception," Jaune replied.

"Sunset," Pyrrha said. "Still…?"

Sunset smiled a smile which reached her eyes but sparked no joy in them, a sad smile, and a little wan. "For the moment yet, I'm afraid," she said.

Pyrrha frowned, but before she could say anything else, both her and Sunset's scrolls began to buzz at once.

Sunset got out her scroll, which identified the caller as Lady Nikos.

"My mother?" Pyrrha asked.

Sunset looked up at her. "You too?"

"Indeed," Pyrrha replied.

They both answered at once — and at the same time.

"Mother," Pyrrha said.

"My lady," Sunset said, getting up off the bed.

"Pyrrha, Miss Shimmer," Lady Nikos replied, inclining her head to them both from out of the screen. "I hope that I am not disturbing you."

"No, my lady, you are not," Sunset said quickly, grateful for any disturbance that had, in fact, occurred.

Jaune stepped delicately, and with some tremor of nervousness in his step, over to Pyrrha's side. He cleared his throat. "Uh, good afternoon, my lady."

"It is presently my evening, Mister Arc, but never mind," Lady Nikos said. She pursed her lips for a moment. "I spoke with Lord Rutulus today, at court," she announced.

"Indeed," Pyrrha replied coolly. "What did you say to one another?"

"He described you as demeaning yourself, and I rebuked him in consequence," Lady Nikos said.

Pyrrha was quiet for a moment. "I see," she said softly. "Thank you, Mother, for defending me. For defending us."

"Yes, thank you, my lady," Jaune added.

"Do you think that I would stand by and see you insulted?" Lady Nikos demanded. "Nevertheless, you are aware that there will be more of this the longer things go on."

"I care not, Mother," Pyrrha insisted. "My happiness is dearer to me than the good opinion of all the lords in Mistral."

Lady Nikos was silent for a moment. "It will be hard for you, when you come home," she said. "It will be hard on both of you."

"Nevertheless," Pyrrha murmured, but she could not stop her eyes from glancing uncertainly towards Jaune.

Jaune took her free hand in his. "It may not be easy, my lady," he said, "but I've found a lot of things don't come easy to me since I started at Beacon, and I haven't given up on any of them yet. It may not be easy, but it will be worth it."

A faint blush of colour rose to Pyrrha's cheeks, and a smile played upon her lips.

"You have a silver tongue, Mister Arc," Lady Nikos declared, in a voice that was one part exasperated but at the same time sounded one part almost amused. "I pray it does not lose its lustre. Miss Shimmer?"

"Yes, my lady?" Sunset asked.

"I understand that you have been very busy recently … forgive me, Miss Shimmer, Pyrrha; forgive me all of you; how is Miss Rose?"

"I'm okay," Ruby called as she moved quickly to stand by Sunset, who lowered the scroll so that Lady Nikos could see Ruby's face in it.

"I'm awake, my lady, thank you for asking. I have been for a little while now."

"My apologies, my lady; I should have thought to—"

"No apology is required, Miss Shimmer; I have no doubt that Miss Rose's awakening was a moment of great feeling for you," Lady Nikos said. "Too great to bear me in mind, I'm sure." The corner of her lip twitched upwards. "Had it been Pyrrha in the hospital bed, I would not be so forgiving."

Sunset chuckled. "Nor I have been so dilatory, my lady."

Lady Nikos nodded. "Miss Rose, I am glad to see you recovered, and fully recovered by the looks of you."

"Yes, my lady," Ruby replied. "I feel fine now."

"I am delighted to hear it," Lady Nikos said. "The world into which you have embarked is perilous, but your line shows valour, passed from your mother to yourself, and it would be a great tragedy for Vale, I deem, if that line were to end with you because you perished too young."

Ruby hesitated, her mouth opening and then closing again. She played with her hands, turning her fingers over one another. "Nobody has ever put it quite like that before, my lady."

"That does not surprise me; you are all rather young to think of such things," Lady Nikos replied. "Although if the young were to give more thought to such considerations, that might be no bad thing. In any case, I think it will do you no ill to remember my words, Miss Rose, and to ask yourself whether you wish to be the last flowering of your name, however brilliant that flowering might be, or whether you wish to bequeath Vale a garden of Roses to follow in your footsteps, as you have followed in those of your mother." She paused for a moment. "In any event, I am glad to see you well. As I was saying, Miss Shimmer."

"Yes, my lady?"

"I am not unmindful of the fact that you have been preoccupied recently," Lady Nikos said, "and yet, now that the semester is over and there is some time before the Vytal Festival, it would be of great use if you could find some information regarding Mister Arc's lineage."

"Still, Mother?" Pyrrha exclaimed. "Haven't you—?"

"No longer for the sake of my pride, but for your comfort," Lady Nikos interrupted. "As I said, it will not be easy for you, but it will be easier if you can present Mister Arc as something more than … well, more."

"I understand, and I apologise for the lack of progress upon this front, my lady, just as I thank you for your understanding," Sunset murmured. She licked her lips. "May I ask … to what level of scrutiny must any claims we make hold up?"

Lady Nikos' jade eyes narrowed. "Are you suggesting that Pyrrha, and Mister Arc, and even myself should lie to Mistral, Miss Shimmer?"

"I take it that is a no, my lady," Sunset murmured.

"In truth, that is my surprise that you would suggest such a thing," Lady Nikos replied, with amusement very close at hand within her voice.

"I would never have deceived you, my lady," Sunset lied.

"Hmm," Lady Nikos said, leaving Sunset in some doubt as to whether she was believed or not. "I think it would need to be a deception of the highest quality in order to deceive all who would need to be taken in by it. Have you given up hope of finding any actual evidence?"

"No, my lady, I merely … you know that the chance of Jaune turning out to be something other than what he is are slim." Sunset looked up from her scroll. "But Jaune is going home soon, so perhaps you could ask some questions about your family history while you're there."

"Uh, yeah," Jaune said, although he didn't sound very sure about it. "Yeah, I guess I could. We Arcs have lived there for a few years, so maybe something will turn up. No harm in trying, I suppose."

"Thank you, Mister Arc; that seems to be the least you can do," Lady Nikos said.

"Mother," Pyrrha said reproachfully.

"You must allow me some prickliness, Pyrrha; I cannot make my peace wholeheartedly with this so swiftly," Lady Nikos insisted. "But I will let the matter lie, for now, and hope that that will satisfy you. I did not, as it happens, call in order to badger Mister Arc nor to praise him, but because the court of Mistral met today, and I thought that you might be interested to learn what was decided there."

"Thank you, my lady," Sunset said. "As you can imagine, we are on tenterhooks to know whether Pyrrha will still be with us for the Vytal Festival."

"Sunset," Pyrrha said. "I'm not going anywhere."

"But you might be pressed to go somewhere, and it would be as well if you were not," Sunset replied.

"No one will be pressing Pyrrha to go anywhere," Lady Nikos said. "Nor any Haven student, or indeed any student of Mistralian birth. The lords and ladies took the view that it would seem ridiculous, and perhaps cowardly also, to bring our students home when the danger was passed when we had left them there when the danger was real and present. Whatever one thinks about the wisdom of that, the choice was made and cannot be changed or unmade now. I believe it helped that nobody truly wished to see Haven pull out of the Vytal Tournament. Nobody expects Haven to win — or at least, nobody would dare to say so in my presence — but there is some chatter around Arslan Altan and some hope for a better showing than in recent years."

Sunset grinned. "And of course, Pyrrha's glory will be taken to shine on Mistral, my lady, for all that she be a Beacon student."

"Of course, Miss Shimmer," Lady Nikos said, a smile of her own playing upon her aged features. "Ought it be any other way?"

"Not at all, my lady."

"What is Mistral going to do about its security, Mother?" Pyrrha asked. "Lady Terri-Belle seemed concerned, or at least concerned enough to ask me to come home to Mistral not as a student, but as a huntress."

"That was also a subject of discussion," Lady Nikos said. "It pains me to confess it, but our situation is not as one might desire. Many huntsmen have set out on missions and failed to return; it is said that if the Breach had occurred in Mistral, then we would not have been able to withstand the grimm, short of the Atlesian assistance you possessed in Vale."

"I … can see why some think that," Pyrrha said softly. "I do not wish to believe it either, but when I think back to what we encountered there … I am forced to agree."

"There is no way that Mistral could have been breached as Vale was," Sunset pointed out.

"And yet, if a horde of grimm even approached the walls, what then?" Pyrrha asked.

"What are you going to do about it?" Ruby asked.

"Many things, which may or may not make a difference," Lady Nikos said. "Lord Rutulus is reaching out to the SDC on behalf of Mistral to purchase combat androids; there is talk of raising an army, although that will take time and will be small in number at first, and we are going to sell our mothballed warships to Vale and use the money to buy newer, more impressive models."

"Surely it would be better to put your airships in the air, my lady," Sunset said. "Better to have something flying than something better in the yard."

"It could be argued so," Lady Nikos conceded. "Perhaps the Steward doesn't feel the situation is quite that urgent."

"Do you think it is?" Jaune asked. "That urgent, I mean?"

Lady Nikos did not immediately reply. "This business of our disappearing huntsmen is worrying," she said. "Especially considering the wave of attacks that our villages endured during your vacation in Mistral. There is, as yet, no sign that it is developing into anything more, but … your father, Pyrrha, always told me that the grimm were mindless beasts, and yet, at present, there are times when it seems that it is not so."

"Father told you the truth, as he understood it," Pyrrha replied delicately. "But there is so much that we don't know about the grimm; our professors can study them for years and still only scratch the surface."

"A worrying thought," Lady Nikos murmured. "As I say, it is troubling, and yet, if it were not so, then I would not be concerned, for there are no other clouds on the horizon."

"Do you think that the right decisions have been made, my lady?" Sunset asked.

"That remains to be seen, Miss Shimmer; I am not a prophet," Lady Nikos replied. "And yet I have trouble seeing how other decisions could have been made." She paused. "I feel as though I may have said too much; I would not want to distract you from the upcoming tournament, Pyrrha."

"Mother, with everything that has happened, I am not sure there is anything you could say or not say that would distract me more than I already am."

"That will not do," Lady Nikos said, her voice sharpening. "There will be no victory without focus."

"Does it matter, now?" Pyrrha demanded. "I know that you have dreamed of this, I know that you want me to win the tournament on your behalf, but with everything else that's going on—"

"What else is going on?" Lady Nikos inquired. "The battle is over, is it not?"

Pyrrha hesitated. "Yes," she said, after a moment. "But at the same time … it makes tournaments and triumphs seem a little irrelevant, don't you think?"

"Then when will they be relevant?" Lady Nikos shot back. "There will always be battles, there will always be threats, there will always be things besides which the Vytal Festival pales by comparison, and yet, it goes on nonetheless, and is accorded value in the eyes of men."

"We must live," Sunset murmured.

Pyrrha looked at her, a touch of sharpness in her emerald eyes.

"You said it first, not me," Sunset said. "But if you really believe this, then I'll tell you what I told Skystar when she started to feel that way: it's after big things have gone on that people need to escape from their lot the most. They need to see a show to make them feel better, and they deserve the best show in town, and right now, that's you, Pyrrha Nikos, the Invincible Girl and everything else besides." She smiled. "Think of it as a duty that you owe, Shepherd of the People." Her smile turned into something almost vicious. "And besides, are you really telling me that the thought of winning the greatest tournament in the whole of Remnant doesn't appeal to you?"

Pyrrha drew in a breath. "The thought of victory does appeal to me," she admitted. "I am not free from vanity or pride."

"And we wouldn't have it any other way," Sunset assured her. "Trust me, my lady, when I say that we shall deliver Pyrrha into the one on one; you may depend on us."

"I have," Lady Nikos said. "And I shall continue to do so. Goodnight, Miss Shimmer; goodnight, Pyrrha; goodnight, all of you."

"Goodnight, Mother."

"Goodnight, my lady," Sunset said as Lady Nikos hung up on them.

Sunset shut her scroll, and put it away. "So," she said. "That … was some news."

"Sunset's right," Jaune said. "Even if you were never going to leave, it's good that you won't have to put up with anyone telling you that you ought to go."

"I suppose that is some comfort," Pyrrha conceded. "But more to me is this news of Mistral raising an army."

"Atlas has an army," Ruby pointed out. "And so does Vale, even if it doesn't seem to be very good at the moment. Vacuo doesn't, but Vacuo … well, it's Vacuo, isn't it? But there's no reason why Mistral shouldn't have an army, is there?"

"No, I suppose not," Pyrrha admitted. "But we have done without for nearly seventy years; ever since the end of the Faunus Rights Revolution, there has been no need for an army. The huntsmen have always been sufficient to keep Mistral safe, despite the vastness of its territories."

"Or because of them?" Ruby suggested. "Maybe they'll find out that their soldiers aren't very good at protecting the outlying villages and towns, because they can't work alone or in small groups the way that a huntsman can."

"Perhaps," Pyrrha murmured. She drifted away from Jaune, walking to the window seat and sitting down upon it, looking out of the window across the school grounds.

A sigh escaped her.

Sunset began to walk around the beds towards her. "What are you thinking?"

"Vale is looking to strengthen its forces," Pyrrha said. "And now Mistral as well? What if this was Cinder's plan all along?"

Sunset folded her arms. "You're giving her too much credit."

Pyrrha glanced back at her. "What makes you so sure?"

"Because she's an impulsive idiot who isn't half as smart as she thinks she is," Sunset said. We have that in common, too. "She isn't capable of thinking that many moves ahead, or of predicting the outcomes like that."

"Salem might be," Pyrrha pointed out.

"But why?" Jaune asked. "What would either of them get out of it? How does it help Salem if the kingdoms are stronger?"

"I … don't know," Pyrrha admitted. "Perhaps I simply don't like the fact that the world is changing."

"But we can't stop the change; we just have to live with it," Ruby said. "Things change, and we just have to accept them and move on."

Pyrrha smiled at her. "I know," she said softly. "I just," — she looked out of the window once more — "wish we knew what was coming next."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Moonlight Sonata​

Cinder smirked as she watched the airship descend slowly towards their position.

"Here she is," she whispered. "Our secret weapon, the key to our triumph."

"Who is she?" Lightning asked. "Or should I be asking 'what is she?'"

"She's a Siren," said Emerald.

Lightning rolled her eyes. "So you've told me, so she's told me; what neither of you have told me is what a Siren is."

Emerald snorted. "Don't you know anything?"

"Not about this," Lightning admitted. She smirked at Emerald. "I'm starting to think that you don't know either."

"A Siren is a creature of magic," Cinder replied. "A demon from another world, possessed of a voice that can cloud and corrupt the minds of men."

"I'm getting creeped out already," Lightning muttered.

"With her assistance," Cinder declared, "we shall turn brother against brother, friend against friend … turn Vale and Atlas against each other." Her smile widened. "If they thought that the Breach was bad, just wait until the whole of Vale becomes a battleground, and all because of our singing friend."

"'Singing'?" Lightning asked.

"Indeed," Cinder replied. "The magic of the Sirens is not like my power, or any other that exists in Remnant. It dwells in the voice, and her voice is how she — how they — compel obedience and spread discord."

"Does anyone have any earplugs?" Lightning asked.

Emerald ignored her, asking, "Did you ever meet her? Do you know what she's like?"

"No," Cinder admitted, although only after a moment's pause had passed. "All I know of them, I know from Mistress Salem: she and her sisters come from another world, a world where magic is commonplace and where there are no grimm to trouble the people."

It had occurred to her that Sunset might have come from that same place: after all, she too possessed magic, albeit a magic which was not like any Remnant magic that Cinder was aware of. Sunset was not a Maiden, and yet she unmistakably — to Cinder's trained eye — possessed magic. The light displays of which she was so fond, her teleportation … might she, too, come from this other world? After all, if this was a world awash with magic, then there might be room for many different types of the same, no?

What was Sunset in that other world, and why had she come to this one?

"A world without grimm?" Lightning asked. "Sounds idyllic. A world without grimm would be a world without suffering."

"Don't be naïve," Cinder said. "I'm sure that whatever other creatures live in that world are perfectly capable of causing an awful lot of suffering by themselves, just as we humans do worse to one another than ever the grimm could dream of."

"A world without the grimm in it would still be better by a longshot," Lightning replied.

"Bite your tongue," Cinder said, a touch of mockery entering into her voice. "You'll hurt their feelings."

She paused for a moment, before continuing on with her account. "In any event, the sirens were powerful in that world. They ruled over many with the power of their song; they raised up armies, inspired devotion with their voices, and then fed off the negative emotions that they caused through their actions. And for that crime, they were banished from their own world and into ours."

Put like that, they sounded rather impressive. She would have to be on her guard against this one; she might well resent being forced into a subordinate role and seek to supplant Cinder at the head of this operation.

If she tries, I will pluck out her eyes and leave her to stumble around singing to a crowd she cannot see; nobody is going to take my place. I have worked too hard, suffered too much, endured too long to give way to anyone, no matter what power they possess.

"Feeding off negative emotions isn't so lucky here in Remnant," Lightning said. "I'm surprised they weren't eaten by the grimm."

"Maybe they were strong enough to best any grimm who were drawn to them?" Emerald suggested.

"Perhaps," Cinder allowed. "I don't know about that. What I do know is that they tried to set up their own kingdom here in Remnant, and they almost succeeded; as so often, the Immortal Man and his followers put a stop to their efforts; he seems constitutionally incapable of allowing anyone else a place in the sun. One might almost think he suffers from jealousy, that the moment he sees a source of power which he does not control, he must smash it, like a spoiled brat who would rather break a toy than let another girl play with it."

Phoebe, she recalled, had been just the same. Even after she had grown too old for toys, the aversion to sharing them with Cinder had remained as strong as ever.

"The Sirens fled," Cinder went on, "and Salem took them under her protection … and into her custody, lest their magic somehow become a threat to my mistress' designs."

"So you don't know what she's going to be like?" Emerald asked.

"No," Cinder murmured, although she had a pretty good idea. She imagined somebody like herself, someone ambitious, someone who harboured an anger at the world that would not make a space for them, someone cold, who could be cruel when necessary, someone cunning and manipulative, someone … someone who would understand her. Someone she could work with. Someone who thought the same way that she did.

I might not even need you anymore, Sunset. I'll have a new friend soon.

Someone who shares my aims and doesn't pretend to prefer the company of Pyrrha Nikos over me.

The airship, Mistralian-looking in that absurd way that they had of looking antique even when they were very nearly cutting edge, set down before them, the propeller on its rear spinning for a little while to buffet the grass around them before coming to a halt.

There was a moment of pause before the central door slid open.

"For realsies? You mean we are here yet? Well, why didn't you say so?"

A girl jumped out of the airship. She was young-looking — about fifteen, to judge by her appearance — with violet eyes and light blue hair, streaked with tones of a much darker blue, that was long enough to reach down past her waist; in fact, it fell down almost to her knees. She was dirty and dressed in rags that were torn and filthy and falling apart. In that respect, at least, she reminded Cinder of herself … but only of a part of herself that she had tried very hard to banish completely from memory and recognition.

Being confronted with it in the person of another was not something she enjoyed.

The girl who had leapt from the airship was oblivious to all of this, however, as she beamed excitedly at the world all around her.

"So this is it, huh? It doesn't seem to have changed much; are you sure it's been hundreds of years? It looks just the same. Oh, hey!" she cried as she noticed Cinder and her followers for the first time. "So you must be Team Evil, huh? It's great to meet you!"

Cinder stared at her. This … she can't be…

This is the otherworldly demon?

"It's Team Clementine, actually," Emerald insisted.

"Yeah, but you're totally Team Evil, aren't you?" the girl said. "This is so exciting; I can't believe I'm about to debut for the first time as a solo artist!"

Cinder felt her eye start to twitch. "Please, tell me you're not—"

"Ah, Cinder, how nice of you to roll out the red carpet for us," Doctor Watts declared as he disembarked from the airship. The doctor was a tall, lean man, his dark hair turning to grey at the tips, and a moustache — thick, but well groomed — covering his upper lip from view; his teeth flashed every so often out from underneath the moustache. He was dressed in a grey suit, with only his mustard yellow shirt providing a splash of colour that made him visible in the darkness. "I'd say it's been too long, but, well, that would be a lie."

"The feeling is entirely mutual," Cinder growled. She took a deep breath. "This child—"

"You wanted a Siren," Doctor Watts said, in a tone that was altogether too smug for Cinder's liking. "And before you ask: I have a 'no returns' policy." He smirked at her. "It's in the fine print."

"I'm Sonata Dusk," Sonata said. "Nice to meet you, and I can't wait to get started. Can I put my necklace on now?"

"'Necklace'?" Cinder asked.

"It seems the powers of these creatures are not entirely innate to their biology," Doctor Watts declared as he reached into one of the pockets of his jacket and pulled out a black choker with a large ruby pendant dangling from it. "These jewels are in some way key to their magic, which is why Salem has separated the two and entrusted the gem to me for the duration of the journey." He tossed it to her. "Otherwise, who knows where she might have ordered me to take her?"

"Thank you," Sonata said cheerfully as she caught the necklace in one hand. She made to fasten it around her neck.

"Wait," Cinder said, raising one hand as fire leapt to her fingertips, the scarlet flames dancing in eager anticipation. "You say that this necklace is the key to your power. So why do you need to wear it now, when you're not going to use your power?"

Sonata stared blankly at her for a moment. "So I'm always ready when you need me?" She smiled innocently. "Why shouldn't I put it on? Are you worried about something?"

I'm worried that you'll use your siren song on me and not my enemies, Cinder thought. But how likely was that, really? Salem was still holding her two sisters hostage — she had been wise, after all, to only send Salem a single siren — and even if that were not the case, there was also the fact that this girl, this creature, was a demonstrable idiot.

"You must be Cinder, right?" Sonata said, her violet eyes shining guilelessly. "Lady Salem's told me so much about you."

"Has she?" Cinder asked flatly.

"You bet," Sonata said. "She talks about you all the time, about how talented you are, about all her high hopes for you; I think you're her favourite."

She actually said that? Cinder had always hoped that that might turn out to be the case, that the woman whose respect and affection she desired more than any other might actually feel for her the esteem that she could never quite bring herself to show directly, and to have it confirmed … it was pleasing to hear, even if she could no more admit that than Salem could admit to the affection.

"Well, obviously," Cinder said as she lowered her hand slightly.

The gem in Sonata's hands glittered under the moonlight.

"You're the strongest and the smartest of Salem's servants," she said, "so why would someone like you be so afraid of little ol' me that you won't let me put my necklace on?" She beamed.

Cinder snorted. It was true. She was worrying over nothing. There was no way that this perky airhead could possibly out-scheme her, Cinder Fall, the maiden who would overturn the world and cast down all its kingdoms. She lowered her hand completely. "Go ahead."

"Trust me," Sonata said. "There's nowhere that I'd rather be than here."

She fastened the necklace around her neck, and instantly, a little extra colour began to suffuse her face. She closed her eyes and threw back her head, her mouth opening as she sang a soft, lilting scale, her timbre rising and falling for a moment as she threw out her arms and twirled in place.

She sighed in something like relief. "That is so much better. You have no idea how much I've missed this! Okay! I'm ready to get out there and work some magic!" Her stomach growled so loudly that everyone heard it. "Although, could we maybe grab some dinner first? Because we were on that airship for a really long time and I'm starving. I feel as though I haven't eaten in centuries." A momentary trick of the light made her appearance almost sinister, but it passed as quickly as it had come. "Ooh, I like your outfits, by the way. Do I get a neat outfit now that I'm on the team?"

"Unfortunately," Lightning said, in a voice laced with sarcasm, "what with being wanted fugitives and all, we aren't exactly in much of a position to make shopping trips."

"Which is going to make escorting Miss Dusk into Vale for her 'concerts' a little difficult as well," Watts mused. "Why, it's almost as if you didn't think this through, isn't it, Cinder?"

Cinder's eyes narrowed. "At least I'm acting to serve our mistress. How are you helping our cause?"

Watts chuckled. "If you call failing aggressively and revealing yourself to the enemy thus being forced to improvise an entirely new plan on the fly 'helping,' then yes, I suppose you are helping. As for myself, I prefer to think carefully before I act; that way, when I act, I don't trip over my own feet."

It was only Cinder's iron will and complete composure that prevented her from roasting him alive. "As a matter of fact, I have already come up with a solution to this issue; once we get through the Green Line — which we will, thanks to a cultist who is conveniently placed as an officer in the Valish defence forces — then Bon Bon will be responsible for escorting Sonata between our hideout and Vale proper. After all, who is going to question one of the heroes of the Breach?"

"Bon Bon," Watts murmured, sounding rather annoyingly sceptical, considering that he was the one who had inflicted Bon Bon upon Cinder in the first place; Cinder sometimes if he'd done it in order to make her fail and lose face in front of Salem. "Well … we'll see how that works out, I suppose."

Cinder's lip curled into a sneer. "When I lay the relic at Salem's feet, I will accept your apology… if it is delivered with sufficient grace."

Watts' smile flashed beneath his moustache. "Oh, you'll get an apology… if that day ever comes."

Cinder's eyes narrowed. She opened her mouth to say something more, some cutting retort that would dumbfound him with her wit and eloquence. But before she could speak, she felt something, an instinct born out of the grimm influence that Salem had granted her. She could feel something approaching.

"Doctor, you should return to your ship, but don't take off until … well, I think you'll know," Cinder said. "Lightning, get ready to fight; Emerald, protect Sonata."

"I don't take orders from—" Watts began.

"They have found us!" Cinder snarled. She didn't know how, but she could feel them in her bones. She could feel them approaching.

Shards of glass swirled around her, borne aloft by shifting air currents, rising with the heat, spinning around to form a bow of black glass in her hands. She nocked an arrow and stared into the darkness.

With her grimm eyes, she could see into the night, but she scarcely needed that ability because the airship was all lit up. It was an Atlesian Skyray, with a searchlight mounted underneath the nose, sweeping across the ground from left to right as the airship moved in the direction of Watts' craft.

That was how they had found them, she was sure; they had detected the approach of Watts' airship — she had hoped they wouldn't be scanning out past the green line, but apparently, she had been mistaken in that — and they had sent a vessel of their own to investigate.

It was going to be their unlucky day, if so.

The searchlight beam had not turned upon Cinder's group yet; Doctor Watts was frozen in place, half-crouched, waiting to bolt towards his own airship.

"Wait a moment, Doctor," Cinder said, not bothering to hide the frisson of pleasure in her voice at her dependence on him. Doctor Watts was a very intelligent man — or at least, he believed himself to be so — but he was no warrior. Without her, he would be captured for sure. If he hoped to escape this, then he needed her to provide a distraction.

And, for the sake of Salem, she would provide such a thing. She thought that was rather big of her.

She doubted it would be appreciated, but she was used to being unthanked and unregarded by it.

Her time would come, in the end. It would make his ultimate inevitable apology all the sweeter.

Cinder raised her bow, took air, and loosed.

Her shaft struck the engine on the port side of the airship. The Skyray began to spin in an ungainly fashion through the air as that engine exploded in a flower of brilliant red.

"Now, Doctor!"

XxXxX​

Harriet Bree fought with the controls as the Skyray started to spin. The cockpit resounded with the blaring of alarms.

"Port engine's out!" she said.

'What do you say we take a Skyray out for a quick recon, guys? We'll get a lay of the land, get a better idea of the country than you can from a map. Then we can start plotting a real search tomorrow.' I bet you wanted this, didn't you, boss?

Clover Ebi's semblance worked in mysterious ways sometimes; for a guy whose semblance was good fortune, things like this tended to happen an awful lot: quick recons or patrols turning into battles.

Admittedly, those battles had a habit of being against the people they'd been looking for in the first place, which she supposed was pretty lucky, but all the same, this was the third airship that had been totalled since she started with the Ace Ops, and it was starting to be a running gag with the flight crew on the Valiant.

Couldn't their good luck be not getting shot down?

"Someone doesn't want us near that airship," Elm Ederne observed. "Looks like your instincts were right on, boss."

That was the real reason why Clover was the leader of this team. People might think it was his semblance — and his semblance was damn useful; nobody would deny that — but while that might have earned him a spot on the squad, it wasn't why he led the squad. It was his judgement that did that: Clover Ebi had a hunter's instinct, a knowledge of what to do, of what ought to happen next that was unrivalled by any huntsman or huntress that Harriet had worked with before. He was … he was making Harriet sound like a lovestruck schoolgirl even in her own head.

Get it together, Bree, for crying out loud! You're supposed to be a professional.

So why don't you focus on professionally getting this airship under control?

Regardless, when they had picked up an unidentified airship on their scanners, it had been Clover's idea to investigate; with anyone else aboard, it probably would have turned out to be smugglers or something, but Harriet doubted that smugglers would have had the balls to shoot at an Atlesian military airship like that.

No, this … knowing Clover's luck, this was probably what they were looking for.

Clover chuckled. "Looks like it's our lucky day, people."

Every other member of the Ace Ops groaned theatrically as he said that.

"Harriet," Clover said, "what's the status on that other airship?"

Even while she fought with the stick, Harriet managed to check the scope. "It's taking off, heading east."

"Can you get a missile lock?"

Harriet's eyebrows rose, but she bit back the obvious retort that that would require them to be pointing in one direction for long enough to aim at the target. "I can't hold her; we're going to have to ditch." Again.

She looked up in time to see Clover flash that grin he had that was equal parts infuriatingly smug and infuriatingly charming in equal measure. "It can't be helped. And when we bring in our target, then the loss of one airship is going to look like small potatoes."

"You think they're still there?" Elm asked. "The airship—"

"If Cinder was going to cut and run, she would have left already," Clover explained. "I don't know what was on that ship — reinforcements, equipment, dust — but I'm sure it wasn't an evac transport."

Clover turned away from her and walked into the main section of the airship. His six feet and three inches made him the second to smallest member of the Ace Ops — only Harriet was smaller at the positively pint-sized five foot seven — but he filled up the space nonetheless. His sleeves had been torn off, exposing arms corded with muscle, and more muscles were visible upon his neck. His jaw was as square as an anvil, and his eyes were— get it together, Bree!

"Okay, people!" Clover said, raising his voice. "You all know our objective: to bring in the fugitive Cinder Fall; we take her alive, if possible, but I don't want anyone taking any unnecessary risks. If you coming home alive means that Cinder comes in dead, then that's a trade I'm willing to make. We are going to be making a free descent, jumping by pairs: Elm and Vine, you first, then Harriet and Tortuga, then I'll follow. And of course, it's dark out there, so remember your night vision gear."

"I hate this part," Tortuga muttered from the seat next to Harriet.

"Ace Ops! Let's get this done!" Clover shouted. "Harriet, open the doors!"

XxXxX​

There were five of them. Five people leapt from the burning airship, all of them wearing some variant of an Atlesian uniform: a tall, muscular woman with a hammer as big as she was; a clean cut man who looked as if he had been designed by the marketing department of the Atlesian military so they could stick him on posters; a lean figure with a ghostly pallor; a slender woman with a head that was almost completely shaved, save for a V of hair sticking up above her forehead; a mountainous tortoise faunus with scaly skin and a wild black beard covering his face. Five of them, to bring her down.

Not today.

She loosed another arrow, the obsidian shaft flying through the air, almost invisible in the darkness; there was no way that they could—

The poster boy swung his fishing pole out, and the line extended outwards from it to snag Cinder's arrow, which he flung aside with a flick of his wrist — and his pole. The glass dart flew off into the distance.

Cinder growled wordlessly; she began to move, sidestepping rapidly away; in the corner of her eye, she could just about see Watts' airship making its escape. Good. Salem liked the man, for reasons Cinder could only guess at; she would not have cause to blame Cinder for his loss.

Cinder loosed more arrows, the black shafts flying from her bow like rain, her hands moving so rapidly, the eye could barely follow them. All that could be seen in the darkness was the smouldering glow of the hot glass as she fletched one arrow after another, each shaft loosed as soon as it was fashioned. Poster Boy caught one, and then another with his fishing line, casting them aside like puny mackerel, but others forced his group to scatter to avoid them as the obsidian darts buried themselves in the ground.

Where they began to heat up, orange ripples like the sea under a setting sun spreading out around them, the ground itself seeming to rumble as they grew hotter and hotter, before exploding in a sequence of red and gold blasts that concealed the Atlesian huntsmen — and all else besides — from view.

Including the source of the missile that burst out of the flames towards them.

Cinder leapt aside, as did Lightning Dust — albeit in a different direction. Emerald shoved Sonata Dusk — who had been standing stationary, either frozen or completely unfamiliar with what was being fired towards her — out of the way, but was caught in the blast herself, flung aside by the explosion and tossed heavily to the ground in a ragged heap.

As the explosions cleared, Bald Girl charged out of the flames, trailing lightning in her wake. She was wearing some kind of exoskeleton attached to her back and arms; that would doubtless give that fist she was cocking back additional punch if the blow landed.

Lightning Dust caught her before she could reach Cinder, colliding with her in a blur of crackling lightning bolts as the two went down in a heap, rolling across the grass. Electricity blazed across Lightning's suit, the liquid dust bubbled in its tubes, and it wreathed her fists as she hammered down on her opponent.

Bald Girl cried out as the lightning scratched at her, clawed at her, tore at her aura like dogs tearing at the fox, but as the two of them rolled over one another, she gave as good as she got, throwing punches even as she received them.

"Elm, go help Harriet!" Poster boy commanded. The big woman, her rocket launcher transforming back into a hammer, obeyed his command, striking across the ground to where Lightning and this Harriet were locked in their brawl.

Cinder's bow split into a pair of glistening scimitars in her hands as she strode forward, moving to intercept this Elm before she could reach Lightning. She was herself intercepted by an arm of pure aura, glowing pale yellow and as thick as the truck of a birch tree, that leapt from the lean and pallid man as he groped for her, swiped at her, forced Cinder to duck and dive away as he reached for her with first one and then another arm of aura anchored to his shoulders.

Cinder rolled beneath one arm, reforming her bow in her hands as she came up and loosed at him, forcing him to bring his arms back so that he had enough aura to protect himself.

It gave her the opening she needed. She rushed for him, bow forming blades.

The tortoise faunus got in her way. He drew a pistol from the bandoliers he wore across his chest and fired at her. The pistol cracked. Cinder blocked the bullet harmlessly. The pistol transformed into a cutlass as Cinder closed the distance with him.

Their blades clashed once, twice; Cinder spun on her toes, wielding both swords in a slashing stroke, driving him back.

Something wrapped around her neck, the cord of the fishing line from poster boy encircling her choker, tightening around her throat, pulling her down to the ground, down to the earth, into the dust that she threw up with her impact. She flopped like a fish, swords slipping from her hands as she clawed at the fishing cable that was growing tighter, always tighter around her neck, digging into her flesh, squeezing her aura as she was dragged—

Dragged out of her hiding place.

"Here comes a monster to gobble you up."

No! No, that was not her, that was not now, that was someone else, someone who was gone, she was not that helpless girl, that person had died a long time ago, died in the fire, died at Phoebe's hands. She was Cinder, Cinder Fall, and if she could only get her hands on this cable, if she could use her semblance—

The hands of aura closed around her—

Phoebe's hands closed around her.

Cinder squirmed in his grip.

Ashley squirmed in her grip.

She struggled, she writhed, but the aura that engulfed her was too strong.

Phoebe was too strong.

No, no, no, no, this wasn't happening to her; she was Cinder Fall, Cinder Fall, she was this world's nemesis—

She was a weak little girl who couldn't protect herself.

Cinder's breathing was ragged, coming in fits and starts, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. The breath left her as she was turned over, pressed down, pushed to the ground as they started to pin her arms behind her back.

Phoebe pinned her arms behind her back.

She could hear them laughing. The poster boy, the pallid man, the tortoise, they were all laughing at her, their laughter was high, almost girlish. They laughed at her with malice in their voices, with cruelty. They laughed as they held her down, had her at their mercy. Cinder squirmed, she wriggled, she writhed, but she could not escape from them, from any of them.

There was no escape.

Any moment now, they would start hurting her. Any moment now, they would tear her dress — the rags, they would tear the rags from … they would tear her … they would strip her and they would … no. No.

"Please," Cinder mewled. "Please, no. Please, stop."

Help me. Mother, Father, Sunset, someone, please help me.

Lightning crackled from where Lightning fought. She was lit up, electricity coursing from her body, leaping off her like hungry predators preying upon the herd, but none of it seemed to trouble the mountainous woman who held her fast, who kept her pinned while the smaller of the two, the bald-headed girl, pounded her with blow after blow of her strengthened fists.

Lightning's head snapped sideways. The lightning began to dim.

Emerald lay on the ground, prone.

There was no one. No one was coming to help her.

No one ever came to help her.

"Let's have some fun with her," Poster Boy said - no it wasn't him, it was Phoebe. No, it was both of them, two voices speaking over one another, two voices speaking the same words, filled with the same glee at her suffering.

No. No, I am … I am … I am nothing.

And then … and then Sonata started to sing.

There were no words, so perhaps it would have been better to say that she was harmonising — although that begged the question of just who or what she was harmonising with. Regardless, sound was coming out of her mouth, and so it was good enough for Cinder to say that she was singing.

And what sound! It was not aimed at Cinder, that was clear to her in her heart, and yet, nevertheless, it stirred something in her — the pride that they had tried to stamp out of her in the kitchen, here.

Sonata walked forward, and as she walked, she swayed, and the way that she swayed and moved her arms, there was … there was something inhuman about it, something almost like a creature of the seas, not one that walked on land.

Sonata walked into the midst of the Atlesian huntsmen, and as she sang, Cinder felt the grip upon her weakening. She scrambled upright, her bow reforming in her hands.

Sonata raised one hand to stay her, but kept on singing.

Lightning Dust had been released as well. Her amber eyes were wide, darting between their enemies and Sonata, her whole expression amazed as the Atlesians seemed not to notice what was going on.

It was as if Cinder and her cohort had ceased to exist for them.

Sickly green mist began to form around their feet like poison gas, spreading around Sonata, who moved as if she was unaware that it was happening; for that matter, the Atlesians barely seemed aware of it either.

And all the while, her song scratched at Cinder's mind like a dog desperate for attention.

The gem around Sonata's neck gleamed red as blood.

The big woman hefted her hammer and swatted the bald girl aside with a single blow.

And at that moment, as if a signal had been given, the Atlesians erupted into violence against each other, turning their weapons on their comrades and ignoring their enemies as though they had ceased to exist.

"We should probably get going before this wears off," Sonata suggested.

"Of course," Cinder agreed. She hesitated for a moment, before adding, "Thank you."

"No problem!" Sonata declared cheerily. "And you know what? I'm not even hungry any more!"

 

[ScipioSmith]

Bon Bon's Rebellion​

Bon Bon knelt in front of Sky's memorial.

It was a feeble thing, no These Are My Jewels for certain: just a portrait of Sky in a silver frame, propped up on the edge of the pool that surrounded the Huntsman and Huntress statue in the courtyard. The words In Loving Memory, Sky Lark had been etched on a little piece of brass that sat beside his picture. A couple of candles had burned beside the picture, but they had mostly melted down to wax by now; some bouquets of flowers — every first year team had laid one — had sat before the stone wall, but they had all wilted by now. It was all rather pathetic.

A bit like Team BLBL, if she was being honest with herself.

Bon Bon wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. She hadn't wanted this. Not this. She had wanted … it was hard for her, looking back, to remember just what she had wanted. What had brought her to this point.

Obedience had brought her to this point. Duty had brought her to this point. Doing as she was told despite her reservations had brought her to this point.

Envy had brought her to this point.

No one had ever thought that Bonnie Bonaventure was the stuff that greatness was made of. No one had ever marked her as someone likely to make a great impact on the world. She was fine. She was not perfect, but she was perfectly ordinary.

She should have been content with that. She should have been content to be ordinary, content to have what she had and grateful that she had it better than others. She should have been content with the fact that she was not Sunset Shimmer: alone, friendless, consumed with misery and anger and resentment. She should have been content with the fact that she had Lyra, that she was on occasional terms with the cool crowd that had gathered around Rainbow Dash and Twilight, should have been content to be one amongst many.

But what teenager is truly content to be one amongst many? Who does not dream of glory? Who does not yearn for recognition? Who doesn't want to be called the Ace of Canterlot, to have eyes follow them down the corridor, to be the name on every tongue, to have all the guys drooling over you? Who doesn't want to soar?

She had had a secret then, a secret that no one knew, not even Lyra. A secret … admirer, you might say. Someone who understood. Someone who listened. Someone who promised he could help.

When Bon Bon was young, when she was only a girl, when she went by the name of Sweetie Drops, she had been in … an explosion. Her parents had been huntsmen — at the time, she had known no more than that — and they had been killed in a bombing; retaliation for some mission they had completed.

The White Fang had condemned the bombing, of course; this had been years before Sienna Khan took over, but there had been rogues then, lone wolves, isolated incidents. The White Fang had condemned them all, growing less and less sincere each time the old familiar clichés fell from the lips of Ghira Belladonna, until finally he had gotten out of the way so that Sienna Khan could say what those animals had no doubt been thinking for years: we want you dead.

They had killed her parents and left her … well, she had needed a little putting back together. Fortunately, her mother had had a fair amount of lien squirrelled away, and one of the very best doctors in Atlas had been found to care for her in her hour of need.

His name was Arthur Watts.

He had made her better, seemingly in every sense of the word. And after he was done, after she was released into the foster system, they had kept in touch. He was the one constant figure in her life, in a world where homes came and went, where families never lasted more than a couple of months, where people tried on children like they might try on gloves or shoes at the store, Arthur Watts had always been there. And not only because she had to keep going back to have her augmentations modified to take account of her growth, but just because he liked her. He was interested in her; he listened to what she had to say.

He talked to her like a grown-up, even when she was not. It was Arthur Watts who, using his clearance from his work as a government scientist, revealed to her that her parents had not just been huntsmen, but part of a top-secret organisation called Division, dedicated to working in the shadows to protect the world from danger, by any means necessary.

When he told her that Division was being shut down on General Ironwood's orders, Doctor Watts had been furious; he had raged against Ironwood's short-sightedness, his petty morality, his refusal to acknowledge that not all battles were fought in the open with swords, but some with dirty knives in back alleys. Bon Bon had agreed, at the time; it had seemed like a betrayal of everything her parents had fought for. Everything that they had died for.

It had not been long after that when Doctor Watts had asked if she would help him. He was starting a new organisation, one that would require him to disappear, to be thought dead, but he wanted to stay in touch with Sweetie Drops. He wanted her to join him, to help him, to do the necessary work that others flinched from.

How could she refuse? How could she refuse Doctor Arthur Watts, charming, intelligent, cultured, refined, interested in her? How could she refuse the only person who had given a damn about her since her parents died? How could she refuse the shoulder that she had cried on, her solace and confessor, the saviour of her life?

How could she refuse?

She had not refused.

She had thought herself so lucky then. So blessed, so fortunate, so chosen. Doctor Watts' conditions had been a little odd, but not arduous: she had to change her name, which she had done with a light heart because her old name meant little and less to her by this point. Sweetie Drops, the name of an orphan, passed between foster families who had never wanted her. Becoming Bonnie Bonaventure had been the easiest thing in the world. What better way to start a new life than to become someone else?

The other condition had been to hold back, and Bon Bon had at first assured Doctor Watts that she was doing just that, but the truth was … the truth was that even if she had exerted herself to her fullest, even if she had run as fast as she could, even if she had hit as hard as she could, then she still wouldn't have been as fast or as strong as Rainbow Dash, still wouldn't have been as smart as Twilight. She could have proven herself to be stronger than Lyra or Sunset — Sunset when she had been holding back in her turn, at least — but instead, she had kept herself at about Lyra's level.

She had been perfectly ordinary.

And she had hated it.

She had wanted to be more. She had wanted to shine, she had wanted to fly above the rest, and if she could not do that, she had at least wanted to know that she could have.

She had wanted to wipe that smile off Rainbow Dash's face, or at least to know that she could have.

Well, some of the time anyway. Rainbow was a faunus, but the White Fang had attacked her and the others. But she was a faunus, and she smiled too much and laughed too loud, and everyone thought she was wonderful.

Except Lyra. Lyra thought Bon Bon was wonderful. Just as she was. Just as she was pretending to be. Lyra thought Bon Bon was wonderful, even though she was perfectly ordinary.

That ought to have been enough for her. That ought to have been enough to say 'no thank you, Doctor, I'm very grateful, but I don't want to do this any more.' Enough to leave it to him, to others who were older, wiser, more professional.

Really, the fact that he wanted to recruit a kid for his venture probably should have been a clue.

At the time, it had felt amazing, proof that she was more than others saw in her, proof that she was truly talented, even if her talents were hidden. At the time, it had puffed up her ego ever so much.

The arrogance and the folly of youth.

And he had spun such wonders before her eyes: the world transformed, the fools who claimed to lead cast down, and in their place, men of wisdom and true vision, men who knew what had to be done.

Men who recognised talent when they saw it.

And he had been so indulgent, even listening patiently while she poured out her frustrations to him: how Rainbow Dash was so fast and so strong and it was so unfair.

And he had promised to make her better.

He had made her better, though they had to meet in secret on the outskirts of Crystal City; nevertheless, by the time he was done, by the time he sewed her up again, he had promised that she would be better.

And she believed him, despite how much it hurt.

It was at that point, while the painkillers were wearing off, that he had told her that he had her first mission for her. A task not for Atlas, no, it was far greater than that; he was serving a much greater cause, a much grander one. What he was doing, what they would do together, would reshape all of Remnant. A time of great change was at hand, when the foundations of the world would shift and everything would be made anew. Would she help him in this hour? Would she bring about this realignment? Would she help to shepherd in a new age?

And she, foolish, arrogant, blinded by pride and by devotion, had agreed. Of course she would help, she would give herself to him, she would do anything that he asked. She was at his service.

So had she pledged herself to Doctor Watts. And Arthur Watts, who had always been there, the pillar of her existence, her friend, her counsellor, had given her over to Cinder Fall.

That ought to have told her something was wrong.

Cinder had been … something else. Far removed from the intelligent, educated Doctor Watts. Cinder certainly acted as though she was those things, but Bon Bon wasn't convinced; as far as she was concerned, Cinder was just a thug.

A thug with big, frightening ideas.

Ideas which Doctor Watts had told her it was her duty to support.

That ought to have been another clue that something was wrong. Being placed under the command of a hoodlum with pretensions and a thin veneer of cultivation might have been irksome, but acceptable; but to be ordered to play some small part in the downfall of a kingdom … that ought to have told her that she had not signed up for what she thought she had been signing up for.

A small part. A small part. A small part, that was not what she had signed up for either. Doctor Watts had flattered her, cultivated her, promised her recognition when the dust had settled; he had promised her that all of the secrecy, all of the holding back, all of the playing the fool, all the being perfectly ordinary, it was all leading up to something grand and glorious, and once their great work was completed, well, then … then things would be different.

But she had only been relegated to a small part. A part that was nonexistent most of the time. It was not what she had expected.

But it seemed that it was all she was fit for, and Bon Bon had to look at her performance and concede that, most of the time, she didn't even manage that. All of Doctor Watts' promises had been lies, it seemed … but the greatest lie was that she had potential.

Bon Bon looked down at her hands, closing them into fists one by one. Perhaps … perhaps she wasn't even holding back at all? Perhaps this really was her level? Perhaps … no. No, she could not believe that. She could not allow herself to believe that. She might not be smart, she might not have received any enhancements to her brain, but if she went all out, then she'd show that damn cat and pony show a thing or two.

Perhaps she ought to do just that. Get it over with. Go for them as soon as they got back from Atlas — from Atlas! Rainbow Dash parading her White Fang pet around the city, it was obscene! — one last fight, and then she would join Sky.

Then she could tell him how sorry she was.

This was all her fault. All of it. She should have called it quits long ago. She should have refused to go along with it once Cinder explained her endgame. She should have refused to go along with it once she understood that the White Fang were involved. She should have refused to go along with it once Cinder was rumbled at the dance. So many places where she could and should have stopped, have turned away.

If she had, even if she had refused to lead her team into the Breach, then she would have saved Sky. He'd still be here.

If only she could have been content.

It was no bad life, being Bonnie Bonaventure. In fact, since Blake had left, it was … it was rather like a dream. The dream of a villain who thought she was a hero, the dream of a perfectly ordinary girl who thought she was more than that, the dream of a victim who thought she was perfectly ordinary.

Whoever's dream it was, it was a dream all the same. She had been team leader, one of the chosen, and yes, she hadn't been Professor Ozpin's first choice, but he had chosen her nevertheless. Chosen her in ways that it might be said that Doctor Watts had not. Real trust had been reposed in her in ways that Doctor Watts and Cinder Fall had not bothered to do.

And she had had Lyra, sweet Lyra, kind Lyra, constant Lyra, Lyra who had had her back from the moment she met her, Lyra who was annoying in a way that you could never stay mad at for longer than about ten seconds, Lyra who had no secrets, Lyra with nothing to hide, Lyra the songstress, Lyra her friend. Lyra who, like her, knew the pain of being overlooked, your inner worth denied, and yet bore it with a patient shrug and no resentment.

And Dove had joined them too. Stuffy, prosy, sad, and melancholy Dove with his broken heart that was nevertheless so full of valour. Dove who was the best of them in many ways — the best in combat class, certainly, the hardest worker in class even if he didn't get the best grades. The one who, out of all of them, came closest to what they called a true huntsman. A chevalier who, although he could hardly be called sans pareil at Beacon Academy, was nonetheless sans peur et sans reproche.

And Sky, who had been content to stand in the background, waiting without a trace of anger or upset or envy. Sky, who had been smarter than all the rest of them but had never vaunted the fact. Sky, who had never bemoaned anything except the fact that he couldn't get a girlfriend — Lyra had thought, and Bon Bon had been inclined to agree, that if he had lowered his standards a little below 'at least as hot as Pyrrha Nikos, if not more,' he might have had more luck.

Sky, with his drawings, and his headphones on.

Sky, who was dead, because of her.

Because she had led him to the Breach.

Because she had followed Cinder's orders.

Bon Bon looked down at her hands and imagined what it would be like to have Cinder's neck in between them.

"Bon Bon?" Lyra asked, her voice soft and gentle. "Bon Bon?"

Bon Bon did not reply. She just knelt there, in front of Sky's memorial, her gaze once more upon his portrait.

He would never age now. He would not grow old, as they who were left grew old. He would stay that way forever, sharp of face, sharp of eye, with that hair that could maybe have done with cutting.

Preserved in … not in his glory, for he had never had that, but … preserved nonetheless.

I'm sorry, Sky. I'm so sorry.

"Bonnie," Lyra said, more insistently now, complete with a hand upon Bon Bon's shoulder.

Bon Bon shrugged it off. "Leave me be," she muttered. "I'm not through yet."

Lyra was silent for a moment. "Dove and I … we were going to go into Vale. We were going to get some fresh flowers for Sky, amongst other things. Do you want to come with us?"

"You go," Bon Bon replied. "That sounds like a really nice idea; I'm sure … I'm sure that Sky would appreciate it, and so do I, but…" She looked up, into Lyra's anxious, concerned face. "You go. I'm going to stay here a little longer."

"I'm not sure that you should," Lyra said softly. "It's not…" She trailed off.

Bon Bon looked away, choosing to look at Sky instead of Lyra. "It isn't what?" she asked.

"He wouldn't want you to be like this," Lyra said. "Sky, I mean, he wouldn't want you to just—"

"Sky's dead!" Bon Bon snapped. "Sky's dead; it doesn't matter what he would or wouldn't have wanted, he's dead!"

"But you're not," Dove insisted, stepping up until he stood by Lyra's side. "Yes, Sky is gone, and that is a tragedy. His is a loss that will never be replaced."

Bon Bon snorted. "Don't be so sure. They'll slot someone else in next year, some underachieving third-year who has to retake their second year, some unlucky guy who survived when the rest of his team got wiped out on some field assignment—"

"We won't let that happen," Dove said.

"Or maybe if Blake goes off to Atlas, then they'll mix Bluebell and Iron up and—"

"I won't let that happen!" Dove said, louder now, practically shouted. He took a deep breath.

"I won't let that happen," he repeated, quieter, his voice returning to a more reasonable tone. "I know that I'm only here because of a switch just like that, but … but that can only happen if we allow it to, and I, for one, am not minded to let it. It's true that we're a man down … it might even be fair to say that, of all the teams in our year who could be a man down, we're one of those the least able to deal with it, but nevertheless … I know that I wasn't here for the beginning of this team, but ever since I met you, even before I was a Bluebell, you girls have been … you've been so kind to me. When I arrived…" He paused. "What are you going to do, Bon Bon?"

"What do you mean?" Bon Bon asked.

"I mean, if Lyra and I go off into Vale, are you just going to stay there, staring at that picture?" Dove asked. "Staring until you've memorised every feature, every line on his face, every lock of hair?"

"What if I do?"

"What good is it going to do?" Dove demanded.

"What does it matter?"

"It matters that you're alive!" Lyra cried. "It matters that you're alive, and we need you! I need you."

Bon Bon closed her eyes. A sigh passed between her lips. "You are a good friend, Lyra Heartstrings, and it breaks my heart to let you down, but … you don't need me. You need something I can't give you. Please. Go. Leave me to my sorrows and to Sky."

"As you left me to mine and Amber?" Dove asked. He knelt down beside her. "Have you forgotten that you are not the only one whose heart is touched by grief?"

She looked at him. He left her little choice. His rebuke had stung her a little bit. "I didn't mean—"

"I know," he said. "I don't suggest you did, but … I did not come to Beacon for the right reasons."

Neither did I. Only Sky and Lyra did that. "You have the heart of a huntsman, Dove, you should have no fear of that; of all the people I know, you have the truest motives for your presence here."

Dove shook his head. "I came … I came to fight, I came to help, I came because I thought it would be romantic, I came because it was a noble calling, I came because I'd read the Song of Olivia too often, I came for reasons which you might call good and which Professor Ozpin might approve, but most of all … most of all, I came to meet a girl under the clock. I came because I loved her, and one day, she rode away. I came because she promised she would wait for me, and I promised to follow. I came because I thought to find her here.

"I dreamed of it. I dreamed of her. In the days leading up to coming here, I dreamed of nothing else. I went to bed, and I was here, with her. I dreamed of when we'd meet again, what that would be like, how it would go: racing towards one another across the courtyard; or maybe looking all around to feel a tap on my shoulder, I'd turn around, and there she'd be; her waiting when I stepped off the airship." He started to blink rapidly, as if his eyes were being stung. "Stupid, romantic fantasies, I know. It's pathetic, isn't it?"

"No," Lyra murmured. "No, it isn't, not at all."

Dove ignored her. "Except, of course, she wasn't there. She wasn't here. She wasn't anywhere I could find her, and by now … she must be dead. I can't believe that she'd just go away without a word, without a message, with no clue as to how I could catch up with her. You might say that that's me having too high an opinion of myself, that what I thought we had was never real, but it was, it was real. It was real, and she … she is gone. Maybe she left intending to return soon, or at least before I arrived but … but she never did.

"Anyway, the point is… the point is that there were times when I wanted to give up, to just sit on my bed and look at her picture until it was burned into my brain — as though it was not already. But I didn't. I didn't because … because you helped me. You and Lyra, you … you were there when I needed someone. You reached out to me when I was falling, you helped me see that we have to keep going! That we owe it to them, but … but even more than that, we owe it to ourselves."

"To do what?" Bon Bon asked.

"Put one foot in front of the other," Dove declared. "One step at a time, one day at a time, until it gets better."

Bon Bon blinked. "And when does that happen?"

"I'll let you know when it does," Dove replied.

Bon Bon let out a dark laugh, but she did not dismiss his point out of hand. It was … not a bad point, even if it did not correspond much with her mood.

"Do you think," she began, "do you think he'd forgive me?"

"Of course," Lyra said. "Of course he would; that's what I've been trying to say; Sky … of course he would."

Bon Bon hesitated for a moment, and then climbed to her feet. Dove did likewise.

Bon Bon took a deep breath. "So," she said. "Apart from flowers, where else in Vale were you going to go?"

Lyra and Dove looked at one another. A smile began to spread across Lyra's face as she said, "Well, now that you're here we can decide together."

Bon Bon nodded, and even allowed herself a small smile. "Okay. I … I need to change out of this," — she held up her gauntleted hands as a shorthand for the armour in which she was clad — "so why don't I meet you two at the docking pad?"

Lyra's eyes narrowed. "Are you actually going to meet us there, or are you going to slink off somewhere?"

Bon Bon rolled her eyes. "Ye of little faith, no, I am not going to slink off; I will meet you. Or do you want me to clank around Vale dressed like this?"

"Okay," Dove said. "We'll meet you there. Take as long as you need."

"I won't be that long," Bon Bon promised, but nevertheless, she remained where she was, in front of the memorial, watching as Dove and Lyra headed off down the path out of the school towards the docking pads.

Only when they had moved a good distance did she look back at Sky.

"I hope they're right," she whispered. "I hope that you forgive me for not … for living when you … I'm sorry, Sky. I'm so sorry."

She began to turn away, when her scroll went off.

Bon Bon frowned, but pulled it out and pulled it open regardless.

It was an unknown number.

She could only think of one person who would be calling her from an unknown number.

It was like being struck by lightning: first, the surprise that left her stunned and stationary, frozen in place … then the surging anger that ripped through her whole body. It tore through her like a monster hunting for prey, it growled and roared, moved through her, it burned her. It made her hands tremble so much that she could barely hit the button to answer the call.

Voice only. A part of her wanted to let Cinder see her face and know that she was serious, but another part of her was more concerned with anyone else seeing Cinder's face on her scroll.

She answered, but she did not speak. She did not trust herself to speak. She half felt as though, if she tried to speak, only a wordless growl would emerge.

"Hello, Sweetie," Cinder said, her tone infuriatingly light and genial. "I have a little job for you."

A job. After what has happened, she thinks that … she has a job for me. She has a job for me?

"Hello?" Cinder cooed out of the scroll. "Yoohoo, Bon Bon?" She paused for a moment. "This is rather childish, don't you think? Anyway, I need you to come to Portchester Manor, in between the Red and Green lines; you should be able to find it on a map, but I'll send you the coordinates. Once you arrive I'll brief—"

"No," the word fell from Bon Bon's lips with thudding finality.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said no!" Bon Bon snarled. "I'm not coming out to some manor house, I'm not meeting with you, I'm doing your job, I'm not doing anything for you, you damn murderer!"

"My my, how you storm," Cinder drawled. "May I ask what has brought on this unusual burst of outraged defiance?"

"You … you told me to go to the Breach," Bon Bon growled. "You told me to lead my team there."

"And I imagine that, as a result of your heroism, you're now on much better terms with those who once detested you, is that not so?"

"Sky's dead!" Bon Bon shouted into the scroll, heedless of who might be listening. "Sky's dead," she repeated as a sob wracked her whole body, making her tremble inside her armour. "Sky's dead," she said, for the third time, as tears welled up in her eyes. "He died at the Breach. At the Breach where I sent him on your orders. You knew what was coming out of there, and you sent us there anyway. You sent him there. As far as I'm concerned, you're as guilty as I am."

"Who's Sky?"

Bon Bon's eyes widened. Her hands shook so violently that she almost snapped her scroll in half. "I," she growled, "am done with you. If I ever see you again, I'll kill you."

Again, there was a pause on the other end of the scroll. "You know where to find me," Cinder said calmly. "If you show your face, I'll face you myself, of course. We can settle this like warriors of old, like Pyrrha and Juturna. If you have the courage."

Bon Bon's reply was to hang up on her. She hung up, threw her scroll away, and as it bounced across the courtyard, she let out a scream of rage and frustration.

She would … she would go to Portchester Manor. She would go there and…

And die. And die by Cinder's hands, like Sky.

At least she would—

We have to keep going. One foot at a time, one day at a time.

No, no, she couldn't do that. She couldn't get herself killed in some futile fight. Even she recognised the limits of her skill; if she went up against Cinder alone … that wasn't a fight that she could win. And she'd promised Lyra and Dove that she'd live on. She couldn't break their hearts again. She couldn't put them through that, so soon after losing Sky.

She couldn't. She couldn't.

She didn't want to.

She hoped Sky would understand.

She could … she'd call the cops! She'd tell them where Cinder was, and they would—

Ask her how she knew that information.

Die if they confronted Cinder.

Either. Or. Both. Did she want that? Could she bear that? Could she stomach those lives upon her conscience? Those deaths upon her conscience?

No. No, one life, one death, it was enough for her. She could barely deal with Sky having died because of her; if she sent good men to their deaths trying to kill or capture Cinder, then…

She did not have the heart for it.

She did not, as Cinder said, have the courage for it.

She was not the hero who would slay this monster; she was not adequate for the task.

She was too ordinary.

And she couldn't think of anyone who was extraordinary enough to manage it.

All she could do was stand in the courtyard and yell in frustration.

"Bon Bon?"

Bon Bon's head snapped down. Sunset. Sunset Shimmer stood in front of her, looking at her with concern in those stupid eyes, with her mouth open and one hand which she always covered in those stupid dorky gloves reaching out towards her.

Sunset. Sunset was there. Sunset Shimmer. Bright Sunset, talented Sunset, special Sunset, extraordinary Sunset, the coolest girl in school Sunset, wasn't it amazing what she could do Sunset, leader of the most talented freshman team by a mile Sunset, weren't they going to win the Vytal Festival Sunset, picked for extraordinary missions Sunset.

Favoured Sunset, blessed Sunset, chosen Sunset.

Sunset who had failed. Sunset who had come crawling out of that tunnel with a grimm horde on her heels.

Sunset who should have stopped it.

Sunset who should have saved Sky.

Bon Bon yelled again, and this time, as she yelled, she charged at Sunset, slamming into her, bearing her to the ground with a slamming thud as she hit the stone with Bon Bon's armoured form on top of her.

Bon was still screaming as she punched Sunset in the face. Sunset's head snapped sideways from the force of the blow, even as her aura absorbed it nevertheless.

"Why?" Bon Bon yelled as she hit Sunset again. "Why didn't you stop it?"

She hit Sunset a third time, and this time, blood erupted out of Sunset's mouth, along with what looked like a tooth.

Bon Bon gasped. Her aura, had Bon Bon broken Sunset's aura? No, there had been no sign of it, no ripple of green across her body. Had Sunset… had Sunset lowered her own aura?

Had she left herself defenceless? Did she think so little of Bon Bon that she didn't even think she needed aura?

No. No, that wasn't it. That could not be it; it made no sense.

Then why?

"Why?" Bon Bon asked, her voice dropping. "Why?"

Sunset closed her eyes. "Because I deserve it," she said, a groan of pain entering a voice that sounded tired and weary. "Go on, keep it up. Another good one, and you might break my jaw."

Bon Bon's fist was raised, poised to strike. It trembled, but it did not descend. She did not strike again. She … was frozen. The air was thick around her hand and held it trapped as though in treacle. Or perhaps a better angel of her nature had descended and held fast her arm and would not let go.

Either way, she could not strike. Her will to strike was ebbing out of her like water through a leaky bucket.

Sunset opened her eyes. Her eyes which were filled with tears, as best Bon Bon could see through the water which was welling up in her own.

"Please," Sunset said. "Please."

"You…" Bon Bon murmured. "You want—"

"I deserve this," Sunset said. "And you deserve your anger."

Being told that she deserved it caused Bon Bon's anger to drain out of her. Her hand fell, hitting the side of her cuirass with a rattling clatter. She bowed her head, and the tears fell to land on Sunset's purple t-shirt.

"I hate you," Bon Bon whispered.

"I know," Sunset said.

Bon Bon scowled, she grimaced, she bared her teeth. "Why?" she demanded. "Why didn't you stop it from happening?"

"Because I was … a coward," Sunset whispered.

Bon Bon stared at her. She stared down at Sunset with hatred in her eyes. A coward? She was a coward? It prompted bitter laughter from her lips: Sunset Shimmer, the blessed, the chosen, the elite, the girl with all the gifts, a coward. Sunset the beloved, Sunset in the spotlight, Sunset the coward. Strutting, smirking, proud Sunset, a coward.

Why was she alive when Sky was dead?

Her hand twitched. A part of her yearned to close it around Sunset's neck and squeeze the life out of her.

It hardly seemed as if Sunset would resist.

But then … well, she could hardly expect to get away with it, could she?

Maybe she was a coward too. Maybe it was a coward to hide behind it, but … if Sky wanted her to live her life, then he'd hardly want her to do it in a cell.

One step at a time. One day at a time.

Starting with stepping away. Lyra and Dove are waiting for me.

Bon Bon rose heavily to her feet. She stared down at Sunset, her breathing heavy; Sunset, for her part, did not look at her.

Bon Bon stepped over her without another word and walked away.

One step at a time.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Breakdown​

Sunset's jaw ached. It was all she could do not to keep her tongue feeling at the gap between her teeth where Bon Bon had knocked one of her molars out. It only made the pain worse every time she got near it.

Not that it didn't hurt plenty all the other times, mind you. It hurt continuously, as did the jaw itself. They both hurt, and what was more, they both seemed to take a glee in hurting alternately; one would throb and then the other, with the outcome that she did not get a moment's peace between the two of them. Just pain. Unceasing pain.

So, kind of what she was feeling emotionally then.

Still, she couldn't say that she didn't deserve it. She really couldn't say she didn't deserve it. What Bon Bon had done … it was the least that she was owed, for what she'd done to Sky.

For what she'd done to Sky… well, if Bon Bon had kept going until Sunset's head was a paste on the ground, then no one in their right mind would blame her.

Not if they knew the truth, anyway.

Sky had belonged to Bon Bon, just as Pyrrha and Ruby and Jaune belonged to Sunset; if Sunset had any right at all to do what she had done, then Bon Bon surely had a right to murder Sunset with her own two hands. That was … just. That would have made things square. It would have been in the spirit of heroism. It was something that would have made the princes of The Mistraliad nod in appreciation.

Albeit, it would have made Princess Celestia blench in horror to hear Sunset say anything thus. Ponies didn't think like that.

Ponies didn't do things like Sunset had done.

Except that they do, of course, don't they, Princess Twilight? They're just lucky enough to get away with it all working out.

Sunset closed her eyes and swayed in place until she was leaning against the wall of the corridor. Somehow, her legs didn't quite feel like supporting her at the moment.

They would have to start soon; she couldn't stay here like this all day.

She had… well, she didn't have anything to do right now, but she might. That was why it was, on balance, quite a good thing that Bon Bon hadn't killed her; she might be needed to—

—to die at Councillor Emerald's command if he came up with an assignment for her.

How am I going to explain that?

It was too much to hope that she would be able to get away with not explaining it. Unless the missions she was given all took place in downtown Vale — unlikely, to say the least — then her friends would notice that she was disappearing.

They aren't the only ones. I wonder what Professor Ozpin will say?

He'll say 'good riddance' and be as glad to see me in the ground as Councillor Emerald. He'll find Pyrrha a more pliable team leader, no doubt.

The thought put a frown on her face. She had not … or perhaps it was better to say that she had avoided thinking about it that way, but…

She had promised Yang she wouldn't run. She had promised Yang that she would be better than that, better than Yang's mother.

She had promised herself that she wouldn't run, not again; she would stick this out, for good or ill, she would stick by her friends, she would be there when they needed her, she wouldn't run.

But what had she agreed to do but run from pillar to post at Councillor Emerald's command?

I'm doing this to atone for my sins.

I'm doing this to make myself feel better.

I'm doing this because it's what I deserve.

I'm doing this because it's what I…

If she did not come back, as Councillor Emerald intended, then … well, it might be said that she had not technically run away; it might be said that she had died doing something noble, but how many times had Sunset argued with Ruby about that? Just because you died doing something noble didn't make you any less dead, or those left behind any less bereft. Just because her intentions might have more in common with Summer Rose than Raven didn't make much difference to the outcome.

More importantly, they would not only be bereft but weakened. If it had only been the first, then … well, it would have been rather self-pitying to go on about how sad people would be if she were dead when Bon Bon had just shown her how sad she was that Sky was dead thanks to Sunset's actions.

Miranda had been pretty broken up as well.

Sunset flinched, and as she began to walk forward once again, she ran one hand through her fiery hair. That was … her thoughts were a whirling whirligig right now; they came and went without order or design. Her head felt as light as a feather, and not just because she'd just been knocked around.

Where … oh, yes, the team weakened. She'd promised that she wouldn't run because she wanted to protect them, but who would protect them if she died? Pyrrha would protect Ruby and Jaune, or do her best to do so, but who would protect Pyrrha? It wasn't even as though they could get Blake to make up the numbers, since it seemed more and more likely that she would choose Atlas in the end.

Yang. Yang can be the leader of my team — call it Team … Team … Team YARN. Yes, Yang can be the leader for Pyrrha, Jaune, and Ruby; Nora can fill Sky's spot on Team … whatever, and Ren … well, who cares about Ren, anyway?

No, no, that was … that was kind of mad. Nora cared about Ren, for a start.

Still, it was a worry. She worried about what would happen to them without her.

Arrogance.

Maybe. Maybe the last arrogance which I am allowed.

Sunset flinched and winced at the pain in her mouth as she made her way back to the SAPR dorm room.

She used her scroll to open the door and stepped inside. Pyrrha was sitting in the window seat, the sunlight coming in from without gleaming off her gilded armour, her cuisses and the strip down the centre of her corset, the circlet on her brow. The teal drops hanging from the golden chairs that looped down from her circlet seemed to sparkle, and the sunshine illuminated her scarlet hair brilliantly.

The light shone down upon her and made it seem as though she gave light, as though the light would disappear and they would have day regardless.

Pyrrha had a book in her hands; it was resting gently upon her lap, casting the slightest hint of a shadow over her sash and cuisses, but as Sunset walked in, she was looking out of the window, with that slight melancholy in her expression that seemed to gather about her like a fine mist, nigh invisible but present nonetheless.

As Sunset shut the door, Pyrrha's head turned towards her. Her green eyes widened in shock as a gasp escaped her lips.

"Sunset!" she cried. "What … what happened to your face?"

Sunset winced. "Is it that noticeable?"

"'Noticeable'?" Pyrrha repeated. "It looks terrible! What happened? What happened to your aura?"

Sunset rubbed her jaw with one hand. "I'd rather not talk about it."

Pyrrha set her book aside. "I see," she said, her voice stiff and rather brittle-sounding. "Well, if you'd rather not talk about it, that is … rather irrelevant, considering that, as I see it, you have only two choices: you can tell me what happened, and I can help you cover up the worst of how it looks with some of my makeup, or you can explain to Ruby when she and Jaune get back. Which will it be?"

"That is…" Sunset trailed off. "Where are Jaune and Ruby anyway?"

"They've gone into Vale," Pyrrha explained. "Jaune is going to cook dinner for us tonight. Something special to cheer us up. He and Ruby have gone to get everything."

"They didn't invite you to go with them?"

Pyrrha smiled slightly. "Jaune said he wanted it to be a surprise."

Sunset smiled too, for all that it made her mouth hurt. "You know, I wasn't too sure about him when you first told me how you felt, but he's a real keeper, isn't he?"

"I think so," Pyrrha said. The smile died on her face, and her gaze sharpened. "I also think you're trying to change the subject."

Sunset groaned, and sounded probably more put out than she had intended as the pain mingled with her frustration in the midst of that same groan. "Bon Bon … Bon Bon was down by the memorial. Again."

"And?" Pyrrha asked.

"And … she was upset," Sunset said softly.

Pyrrha blinked. "She was … Bon Bon did this to you?"

Sunset let out a sigh. "Yes."

Pyrrha got up from the window seat. "Excuse me," she said as she walked towards the door.

"No!" Sunset said, her voice rising; she threw out her hands as she put herself between Pyrrha and the door. "You can't just… do you really think that Bon Bon could beat me up if I didn't allow it?"

Pyrrha stared down at her. "You … you lowered your own aura? Sunset, why in Remnant would you—?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters; of course it matters!" Pyrrha cried. "It matters because … because you're my friend. Because you're my best friend. Because I know that if I had come in here with a face like that, you wouldn't just let it go because I asked you to. Because I know … I tried to talk to you about this—"

"I took what you said to heart."

"Really?" Pyrrha demanded. "Did you really?"

Sunset frowned slightly. "Bon Bon has a right to her anger."

"Does she?" Pyrrha asked. "Why? What have you … it doesn't matter. This isn't about Bon Bon; this is about you. And it's about me and the fact that I've seen you falling to pieces, and I've ignored it, and it stops now. I'm so sorry, Sunset."

"This isn't your fault."

"How many of the things you meddle in are your fault?" Pyrrha asked.

Sunset snorted; it was less painful than chuckling. "So you admit that you're meddling."

"I'm being your friend," Pyrrha insisted. "Sunset … what's gotten into you? I know that the mission was tough, it was tough on all of us, but you… I don't understand."

"No," Sunset said. "You don't. And I don't … I can't explain it."

"You haven't tried."

"No, I can't explain it. I can't tell you."

Pyrrha shook her head, if only by degrees. "Sunset, you're not making any sense."

"I know," Sunset admitted, "but you have to … you have to trust me, Pyrrha."

"Trust you?" Pyrrha repeated incredulously. "Trust you while you let yourself get beaten on by Bon Bon, trust you while you shamble around Beacon like a ghost, trust you while your words are sad and solemn—"

"That's not fair; your words are plenty sad and solemn themselves!" Sunset exclaimed.

"But yours are not, not like this," Pyrrha declared. "Sunset … it's like a part of you died under Mountain Glenn. You are not yourself. I could trust you. I could trust my friend, my team leader, but you… I'm not sure if that's who you are anymore."

"Pyrrha," Sunset whispered. "I … I'm still me."

"Then tell me what's wrong?" Pyrrha asked, in a voice that was just as soft.

Sunset looked at her, at her eyes so green, her face so fair, her hair of so brilliant a colour. She could not say. She could not confess her darkness to the sun. She could not. She dared not.

Even if it cost her her friend — her best friend, as Pyrrha had said — to keep silent; still, it was better than losing a friend because Pyrrha had found out what she had done and what she was.

"I'm sorry," she said, and teleported away.

There was a crack and a flash of green light, and Sunset rematerialised upon the cliffs overlooking the Emerald Forest.

The green trees stretched out for miles below her, concealing the grimm that lurked within.

For miles below. Below. So very far below.

Sunset was hit with a sudden vertiginous feeling, a dizzy spell that made her head spin, that made her whole body wobble as she lost the ability to balance properly. She backed away from the cliffside hastily before she fell. What had she done? What had she just done?

She'd run away after swearing not to. She'd run away from Pyrrha. She'd run away; she'd lost Pyrrha.

What was she going to do now? Keep running? Hide? Wait until Jaune and Ruby got back, slink in, and hope that Pyrrha didn't make a scene?

How was she supposed to fix this? How was she supposed to make this better?

You can't, you can't make any of this better, you've ruined everything!

Sunset doubled up as a sudden cramp assailed her stomach, biting her gut, gripping her so tight that she physically couldn't stand upright without intense pain like when Adam had stabbed her. It was exactly like Adam stabbing her; it was coming from the same place, the pain shooting out from the scar on her stomach, because it wasn't bad enough that her face and jaw were killing her apparently.

Sunset doubled up, clutching her belly with both harms.

Pyrrha was right; she was falling apart. Everything was falling apart. And she had no idea how she was supposed to fix it.

She didn't even know if she could.

And then her scroll rang.

She honestly considered not answering it. It probably wasn't important. Very little seemed important right now. But some vestige or veneer of courtesy made her pull the scroll out of her jacket pocket and open it up.

It was a number, not one of her contacts. A number that felt familiar to her in the back of her mind, but which she couldn't place.

If it had simply been an unfamiliar number, then she would not have answered it, not as she was feeling now, but because she felt that it was not actually as unfamiliar as it seemed at first glance, Sunset pressed the green button to take the call, and even tried to straighten up despite the pain in her stomach.

"Hello," she groaned. Her mouth still hurt too, and it hurt more when she talked.

"Hello, Sunset," Cinder said. Her face appeared on the screen, and her smooth, lugubrious voice fairly oozed out of the scroll.

Sunset's jaw worked silently, though not — alas! — free from pain. She scarcely knew how to respond. She was amazed and astonished at the effrontery of it, effrontery which seemed enormous to her for all that — no, no Cinder could not fail to be aware of it too; she knew what she'd done. She knew exactly what she'd done! And yet, here she was, calling her up with that 'hello Sunset'!

"'Hello Sunset'?" She repeated. "'Hello Sunset'? What do you mean 'Hello Sunset'?!"

"There's no need to be like that, I'm sure," Cinder muttered. "Are you feeling alright?"

Sunset growled wordlessly through her teeth. "What do you want?" she snarled.

"Well, I had nothing better to do," Cinder answered, with a casual shrug. "So I thought I'd call you and see how you were getting on."

"Oh, I see," Sunset replied. "You had nothing else to do, so you thought that you'd just call me up? Just call me and see how I was doing? Of course you did. HOW DO YOU THINK I'M DOING, YOU—?" Sunset cut herself off before she said something undignified. "How … how dare you? How dare you? After what you've done—"

"What have I done?" Cinder asked calmly.

Sunset let out a little involuntary gasp. "What have … you know what you did!"

"I know what I have done," Cinder acknowledged. "I don't particularly see why it should vex you."

"Six people are dead!" Sunset cried. "Six people are dead because of you."

"You pressed that detonator," Cinder pointed out. "Not me."

Sunset closed her eyes and bowed her head. "Yes," she whispered, a whisper that was ragged and trembling, a whisper that was almost a sob. "Yes, I did. I did that, and now…"

Her breathing was as ragged as her voice. "Now, I…"

Perhaps she shouldn't confess her weakness to Cinder, perhaps she shouldn't confess her pain, perhaps she shouldn't admit that she was crumbling, but why not? What harm was it going to do? If Cinder felt good about what she'd done, she would be about the only person who had gotten something out of this whole miserable debacle.

"I can't sleep," she said. "I can't sleep for thinking about them. They haunt me by night, and by day, they press upon my shoulders, and I cannot … I cannot bear the weight."

She opened her eyes to glare at Cinder. "Is this what you wanted? Is this why you did it? Was that what this was all about? You must have known that neither your grimm nor your White Fang could beat the Atlesians, so was it all just to make me feel this way?"

Cinder's mouth was slightly open. Her amber eyes were a little wider than they had been before. "It was never my intent to hurt you, Sunset," she declared.

Sunset laughed bitterly, despite the pain. "Didn't you?" she asked. "Didn't you?" she demanded, louder this time. "Then what was your 'intent' by it? You made me complicit in your crimes!"

"Oh, don't be a scold, Sunset," Cinder said. "Moralising is very tedious."

"Six people are dead!"

"And?" Cinder asked. She smirked. "What were their names, that your heart so bleeds for them?"

"Sky Lark," Sunset declared. "Pearl… Pearl… Pearl, Pearl, Pearl, Pearl…" Pearl, Miranda's friend, what was her last name? Pearl who, Pearl what, what was her name? She was uncomfortably aware of Cinder's smirk getting wider by the moment. "One was a waitress, one was a housewife, one was a carpenter, one was a clown, one was a butcher. Pearl was also a student, a literature student alongside Miranda, do you remember Miranda, Miranda Wells?"

Cinder's brow furrowed ever so slightly. "From the ice cream parlour, yes?"

"Yes, where we went, Jaune's friend," Sunset said. "She almost died herself, she was terrified, do you not care about that?"

Cinder was silent. "Is she dead?"

"No, but—"

"Then what are you complaining about?" Cinder demanded.

"Because what we did, it … it was wrong!" Sunset insisted.

"Why?" Cinder pressed. "Let us leave aside my part in this, and concede — merely for the sake of argument — that it is, indeed, wrong, as tiresome as that word is, for me to seek to deal out death and destruction. That was not your motive. You acted only to protect those whom you call your friends. Why is it wrong, then, to put the lives of those who are dear to you above anonymous strangers? Why should you love the man you've never met as much as your nearest and dearest? I don't like Pyrrha, as you well know, but tell me why it is wrong that you should esteem her life worth more than that of a housewife whose name you cannot even remember; not for old Mistralian blood, not for the crown your princess is without, not for her mother or her potential or anything else by which you might qualitatively judge a life on, we leave all that behind, let us be egalitarians for the sake of this argument, yet tell me: why is it wrong for you to esteem her life worth more than any life in Vale for no other reason than because you love her?"

Sunset blinked rapidly. She shook her head. She took a step back as though she could get away from Cinder that way. "Cinder, that … that's terrible—"

"Then explain why it is so," Cinder demanded. "Articulate it, if you can."

Sunset licked her lips. She swallowed, and the act of swallowing felt sharp against her dry, parched-feeling throat. "I…"

"Is not the alternative cold, heartless?" Cinder asked. "If we are to throw around the word 'wrong,' then does it not feel wrong to turn aside from the counsel of the heart and reject all human feelings? If you care not for care, if you make judgements based on pure numbers and the needs of the many and all the other rot and nonsense, then how are you better than a robot making calculations? I ask again, why is it wrong to esteem those dearest to you dearer than the rest?"

"Because … because I am a huntress?" Sunset suggested. "Because I … because I have pledged my life and sacred honour—"

"'Pledged my life and sacred honour,'" Cinder repeated mockingly. "Oh, please. Pyrrha could make those words sound stirring. Ruby could imbue them with conviction in spite of that squeaky voice of hers; from you, it sounds like amateur dramatics; you're speaking words, but you can't make them sound believable because you don't understand them."

"Yet better people than I tell me it is so!" Sunset cried. She wiped at her eyes. "Ruby would have made a different choice."

"Ruby's heart is hard as frozen rock."

"Yet it is a heart heroic nevertheless," Sunset insisted, her voice trembling. "She would have … Ruby would have—"

"Condemned you to death without a second thought," Cinder said.

Sunset winced. "If they found out what I had done, they'd hate me," she whispered. "They'd call me monster."

Cinder leaned forward, her face filling up more of the screen. "Then damn them," she said. "They don't deserve you, Sunset."

Sunset shook her head more vigorously now. "You're wrong."

"Why waste your time on people who do not understand, will never be able to understand—"

"You're wrong."

"You belong with me; none of them will ever comprehend what is in your heart the way that I—"

"I said YOU'RE WRONG!" Sunset bellowed down into the scroll. Her whole body shook with a mixture of fright and rage and incredulity. Her ears were pressed down into her hair. Her tail quivered behind her. "You … you want me to come to you? To join with you, after what you've done? After what you've done to me. You … you made me this. You made me a monster. You..." Sunset's face twisted into a snarl. "You made me you."

Cinder's eyes widened. She spoke softly. "You don't mean that. I know you don't mean that."

"No?" Sunset demanded. "And why not? I wish that I had never met you!"

"I know you don't mean that either."

"I was fine before I met you!" Sunset yelled. "I was doing great. I had great friends, I was respected, I was turning my life around, I was on my way! I was on my way to greatness! And you … you—"

"I saved your life!" Cinder snapped. "If I had wanted you dead, then you'd be a pile of bones under Mountain Glenn by now!"

"You spared my life but took my pride, my dreams, my honour," Sunset shouted. "I am nothing now: threads and patches unravelling slowly, scratched bones shambling about. If you had killed me under Mountain Glenn, then at least I would have died as Sunset Shimmer, whose light shone brightly and most glorious until the end. Instead, I … your mercy spared my life, but stole my soul. And I will not forgive you for it."

Cinder was silent for a moment. Even when she spoke again her voice was quiet, "That was not my intent."

"I never," Sunset snarled, "want to see you or speak to you again. I hate you!"

"Sunset, I—"

"Goodbye, Cinder," Sunset, and hung up. The screen went black, the device went silent. There was no sound but the wind around her, blowing over the cliffs.

"Some might look with suspicion upon your receiving calls from an enemy," Professor Ozpin observed casually. He chuckled. "Though perhaps not if they had heard you shouting."

Sunset froze. Her tail went rigid. The scroll dropped from her trembling hand. Her ears pricked up straight.

She looked over her shoulder, her movements slow and sluggish, as if Professor Ozpin would only become real if she saw him and so she was putting off the act of seeing him because she did not want to conjure him into existence.

But he was there, and she did see him, with his Beacon mug in one hand and his stick in the other, the tip resting lightly upon the grass as he looked at her, his face calm and his expression inscrutable.

Sunset breathed in and out. "How much did you overhear, Professor?"

"Not a great deal," Professor Ozpin replied. "Mainly the volume."

Sunset turned to face him. "What … what are you doing out here?"

"Like you, I find the cliffs a very calming place to walk," Professor Ozpin explained. "Outside of Initiation, they are somewhat lonely. A good place to get away from it all." He raised his mug to his lips.

Sunset bared her teeth in a snarl. He stood there, speaking so casually, drinking his hot chocolate or whatever was in there? He stood there, speaking to her, in such a manner after what he'd done? After what he'd done to Sunset, after what he'd done to her friends, after what he'd done to Ruby's mother? How… how dare he?

Sunset's hand glowed green as she raised it, seizing the mug in the emerald embrace of her telekinesis, ripping it out of Ozpin's hand and throwing it over the cliff. The magic ceased to glow around it as it soared out over the Emerald Forest, beginning its final descent down to the forest floor below.

Professor Ozpin glanced down at his empty hand. "Fortunately for both of us, that was just an ordinary Beacon Academy mug," he observed. "The kind that is available for a very modest price at the souvenir shop. And, as I have spares, even that slight expense will not be necessary."

Sunset growled wordlessly and stretched out her hand towards his staff. Maybe he'd feel differently if she snapped that in two on her knee?

Professor Ozpin's grip upon the stick tightened, and more importantly, he infused the cane with his aura. Her magic could get no purchase upon it; it was like trying to grip something that had been greased; her telekinesis slipped and slid but could not grab on.

"I'm sorry," Professor Ozpin said gently. "That was a poor attempt at humour on my part. Evidently, it was not appropriate."

"Why?" Sunset demanded.

Professor Ozpin did not reply immediately. "I was hoping to defuse the situation," he said.

Sunset shook her head. "You know what I mean. You know exactly what I mean. Why? That's what everyone asks me: Councillor Aris, Councillor Emerald—"

"Yes, Councillor Emerald has posed me that particular question also."

"Then what's the answer?" Sunset demanded. "Why? Why us?"

Professor Ozpin did not meet her eyes. "Three of you are uniquely talented," he murmured.

"Something can hardly be unique if it is shared between three," Sunset replied reflexively.

Professor Ozpin chuckled softly. "Nevertheless, you are, collectively, a very talented group of students."

"But still just students!" Sunset snarled. "Still students, still first year students! You couldn't have borrowed some of General Ironwood's forces? You don't have any actual huntsmen that you could call on?"

"Without meaning to disparage the quality of an education at Beacon," Professor Ozpin said, "the fact is that you and Miss Nikos are, in your own ways, as strong and skilled as many a graduated and qualified huntress."

Sunset let out a bitter, incredulous laugh. "Without meaning to … then what's the point? What are we even doing here? Why don't you just make huntsman licenses the prize in the Initiation? We all have to make your way to a ruined temple, and at the end of the day, 'congratulations! You're a huntsman!'" She flung her arms up and out.

"As I told you, Miss Shimmer, this school does not exist to teach you how to fight, but how—"

"How to be a hero, I remember," Sunset cut him off. "But it seems to me that you didn't so much teach as just expect it, in the end."

"Miss Shimmer—"

"We're students, Professor!" Sunset cried. "We are first year students; we're just kids!"

"You chose to be a part of this," Professor Ozpin reminded her.

Sunset let out a sort of giggling sound, which probably sounded a little deranged. "You … is that what you mean to hide behind, Professor? That we chose this? That this was our choice, and so, it does not lie upon your head? Is that how you slough off the weight? Is that how you sleep at night?"

She shook her head. "You invited us in, you privilege us with your confidence, you take one girl with a martyr complex and another who's been brought up to think she's the world's salvation, and you tell them that you need their help to protect the world from destruction, what do you think the answer will be? Look at me!"

Professor Ozpin did not look at her. His head was bowed, and his back seemed to be bending too, as if some force was pressing down hard upon him. "You are correct, of course," he murmured. "I am sorry, Miss Shimmer, for all that has befallen you and your friends. I should not have involved you all so soon, so young."

Sunset stared at him. Her tail went a little limp, drooping between her legs. Her eyes were wide. She had expected … she wasn't sure exactly what she had expected, but that kind of humble apology had not been one of them. He looked beaten, as if she had attacked him with far more than words … or as if the words with which she had attacked him were particularly painful.

This must be a trick, to make me feel pity for him.

"You say that," she said, her nostrils flaring, "but this isn't the first time, is it? This is what you do?"

"Yes," Professor Ozpin admitted. "Yes, this is what I do."

"Then why do you do it?"

"Gods help me, for the reasons you say," Professor Ozpin replied. "Because you are young, because you are inexperienced and free from the accretions of cynicism and fixed thinking that afflict men as they grow older. Because you are still able to believe, to believe in magic and Salem, but also to believe that she can be defeated. Because you are at an age where you still have hope; it has not been driven out of you by experience of the world."

"'Hope'?" Sunset asked. "Or arrogance? We were vain children, Professor, who saw our shadows lengthen on the wall and thought that we were tall as giants. We were not ready to join this struggle." She closed her eyes. "I was not ready."

"Too much humility is as bad as too much pride, Miss Shimmer," Professor Ozpin said calmly.

Sunset's eyes snapped open. "You knew … on the night when you invited Ruby to come to Beacon, you knew that I'd risked the old man's life for the glory of capturing Torchwick, didn't you?"

Professor Ozpin nodded slightly. "I'm glad to see that you were not deaf to my implications."

"But it seems that you forgot them," Sunset replied. "You knew that I was not a hero; you sat across the table from me and told me so—"

"And I told you that you could learn," Professor Ozpin said.

"And then you plucked me out and raised me up and sent me into Mountain Glenn!" Sunset snapped. "You need heroes to confront Salem, and I … I am not a hero. And you knew that once."

"Yes," Professor Ozpin acknowledged. "I knew."

"And yet you chose me anyway," Sunset declared. "Have I become so much better at fooling you over these two semesters?"

"No, Miss Shimmer," Professor Ozpin said, venturing a slight smile. "You have, for the most part, been defiantly yourself. Your development has been interesting to watch, but you are correct: you are not a hero."

"Then why?" Sunset demanded. "Why me? Was I just the price you had to pay for Pyrrha and Ruby?"

Professor Ozpin shook his head. "No, Miss Shimmer, indeed not. You are…" He trailed off.

Sunset frowned. "Professor?"

Professor Ozpin did not reply, but rather, walked forwards, not straight towards Sunset but beside her, so that he was no longer looking at her but rather looking out across the cliffs. "I said that you were an extraordinarily talented group," he said quietly. "The most talented to walk these halls since—"

"Since Team Stark," Sunset finished for him.

"Indeed," Professor Ozpin murmured. "Summer Rose, Taiyang Xiao Long, Raven Branwen, Qrow Branwen." He paused. "You ask if there was no one else I could have sent to Mountain Glenn, but the truth is that Qrow Branwen is the only man I have at my beck and call, and he is … not answering my calls at the moment."

Sunset's frown deepened. "In the sense that you had a fight or—"

"In the sense that I do not know if he is still alive, Miss Shimmer," Professor Ozpin said gravely.

Sunset swallowed. "I … I do not know the man, but I hope so, for Ruby's sake."

"I hope so too," Professor Ozpin said. "Qrow is a resourceful individual, but … it is always a risk."

"If he had been here, would you have sent him into Mountain Glenn?" Sunset said. "Would you have sent him instead of us?"

"Yes," Professor Ozpin said quietly. "Yes, I would have. Believe me, Miss Shimmer, I take no pleasure in making warriors out of my students before their time."

"And yet you made warriors out of Team Stark before their time," Sunset pointed out. "They were students too, weren't they? A little older than we were—"

"Events moved more swiftly for you, unfortunately," Professor Ozpin said.

"Still," Sunset said. "You started early enough, the extra missions, introducing them to your old friends; who were Auburn and Merida?"

Professor Ozpin looked at her, if only by turning his head ever so slightly. "I'm curious how you learned those names, Miss Shimmer," he said.

"I'm curious who they were and how they did what they did," Sunset replied.

"Are you too young and inexperienced to be involved in these weighty affairs, Miss Shimmer, or do you have the right to all my secrets?" Professor Ozpin asked. He did not say that it could not be both, but that was the implication nonetheless.

Sunset glared at him. "Ruby has her mother's diary," she said.

"Ah, of course," Professor Ozpin said. "I suppose you found it when you were rummaging through the archives to dispose of Mister Arc's transcripts."

Sunset's eyebrows rose.

"I have been doing this for a very long time, Miss Shimmer," Professor Ozpin said.

"I will neither confirm nor deny that, Professor," Sunset muttered, "but if Ruby had read further in that diary, she would find mention of Salem, wouldn't she?"

"Miss Rose would find that I had called her mother into my office, just as I called you, and told her what I told you, yes," Professor Ozpin said. "That is why, when Summer died, Taiyang gave the diary to me, so that his daughters would not find out the truth."

"Before you judged them ready?"

"I think Taiyang would have preferred they did not find out at all," Professor Ozpin said. "But you are right; I began to test Team Stark, to judge their potential, to see how they reacted. I did not have the time to do the same with you, although you seemed determined to prove yourselves to me regardless, what with your actions at the docks and your cooperation with Team Rosepetal." He paused. "Summer Rose, Taiyang Xiao Long, Raven Branwen, Qrow Branwen. Raven once asked me, as you did, why I chose her."

"Did you regret it?" Sunset asked. "Is that why you didn't want Yang to know anything about this?"

"Miss Xiao Long is very little like her mother," Professor Ozpin said. "As I fear she will find out one day, to her sorrow. No, she has far, far more of her father in her: loyal, kind, brave, caring."

"So what's the matter with her?" Sunset demanded.

Professor Ozpin did not answer that. "Raven was of a different sort: suspicious, obstreperous, proud, vain … fierce, fearsome at times. I think she found it hard to love, but when she did … she loved with all her heart. No, Miss Xiao Long is very little like her mother."

But someone else is a lot like her, aren't they? "So the answer is that every team of your operatives needs someone a bit obnoxious, and Yang's too nice?" Sunset asked.

Professor Ozpin chuckled. "Do you know why General Ironwood is a part of my inner circle?" he asked her. "The head of the most powerful force of arms on Remnant, and yet, I do not seek to make use of it. Why, then, do I not exclude him utterly? Why, since I dislike the army that he wields, do I allow him to be a part of my work, do I admit some of his own students as a sop to his vanity, do I give him my ear for all that he speaks words I would rather not hear?"

Sunset thought for a moment. "Is it … is it because his words are not ones that you would like to hear?"

Professor Ozpin smiled. "Precisely, Miss Shimmer. Glynda is my loyal staff, but she will obey any instruction that I give her; Qrow is blindly obedient to my will; Lionheart cringes before me; of my lieutenants, only James has the self-regard to push back against me if he feels he is in the right. I do not always like it, and I do not always listen, but I appreciate that he is willing to do so." His mouth tightened, and it seemed almost that Professor Ozpin winced at some remembered pain. "Raven, too, pushed back against me, and in no uncertain terms. She would call me an old fool if she thought I deserved it. I … I do not think that I am reading too much into things when I trace the downfall of Team Stark to the moment when Raven forsook our cause."

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "You wanted me because I didn't trust you?"

"I have never claimed to be omniscient," Ozpin said. "I have made more mistakes than any man alive. I was glad Team Sapphire was led by someone who would use their own judgement instead of blindly following mine. In that way, you are likely to catch more of my mistakes than someone blinded by too much faith in the legend of my greatness."

Sunset's mouth opened just a little as she stared at this old man, this man whom she had thought such a spider but who now seemed so humble. "I fear I have misjudged you terribly, Professor."

"Please don't disappoint me by becoming a sycophant, Miss Shimmer," Professor Ozpin said. "The truth is that, aside from possibly thinking me colder than I am, you have judged me perfectly. I am dangerous to your friends, as is my cause and your association with it. As I was dangerous to Summer Rose. Which is why they are fortunate indeed to have you watching over them."

Sunset stared at him as though it were the first time she had laid eyes upon him, which it almost was in so many ways. "I think my princess would approve of you, Professor."

Professor Ozpin chuckled. "I would take that as high praise, Miss Shimmer, if I knew her better."

"Take it as high praise in any case," Sunset said. "There is no one whose good opinion is worth more." She fell silent for a moment. "So I was right: you do know what I speak of."

"I am aware of what you are, Miss Shimmer," Professor Ozpin agreed. "You are not the first visitor from Equestria, although I must say you are by far the most congenial. Most of those who came from your land to ours … well, I'm bound to say that your world has a very bad habit of expelling its problems into ours. Or at least it did, at one time."

"I am … sorry to hear that, Professor, but for what it may be worth, I do not think that has been the practice since my princess came to rule," Sunset said.

"No, I have noticed a drop off," Professor Ozpin agreed. "You are the first to come here from that land in quite some time, at least to my knowledge; I sincerely hope there have not been other visitors without my knowledge, but I have been wrong before."

"Hmm," Sunset murmured, as she thrust her hands into her pockets. "Professor … I misjudged you, but … but you misjudged me, in turn. I am no General Ironwood; I am … this is all my fault."

"Miss Shimmer?"

Sunset turned away from him. "I … I am the one who caused the Breach," she said, the words hurtling out of her, glad to spill out, eager to escape, so eager that they rushed from the gates in a great flood. "I got to the front of the train before anyone else and the detonator was there and there was no way out of the tunnel and everyone would have died, and so I…" She stopped, out of breath, panting a little. "Everyone would have died, and so I risked the lives of … everyone."

Professor Ozpin stared down at her, his grey eyes unreadable. He looked away. "Well," he said, "I suppose we'll manage to keep house."

Sunset blinked. "That … that's it?"

"Would you prefer me to throw you off the cliff, Miss Shimmer?"

"This isn't funny, Professor!" Sunset snapped.

"No, Miss Shimmer, it isn't," Professor Ozpin agreed. "Six people are dead, and you will have to carry the weight of that for the rest of your life. Just as I will. Just as Miss Fall will, if such things are capable of touching her conscience. But what good would it do to punish you for this? Is there anything that I or anyone else could do to you that would resurrect Mister Lark or any other victim of that day? Perhaps they would rest easier in their graves to see you caged or chained or worse, but I doubt it. In my experience … the dead are not so nearly so vengeful as the vengeful living claim to cover up their lust for bloodshed and retribution."

Sunset shivered. "That cannot be it."

"Is your guilt not enough?" Professor Ozpin asked. "Do you wish further punishment?"

"I…" Sunset swallowed. "I'd like something to be done to me so I could stop feeling guilty," she confessed. Put like that, it sounded rather pathetic, not to mention stupid.

"There is nothing I could do to you that would achieve that, either," Professor Ozpin said solemnly. "I'm sorry to tell you that it … never goes away."

"'Never'?" Sunset asked.

"Never," Professor Ozpin repeated. "Or at least … not for a very, very long time. Does anyone else know of what you have done?"

"Rainbow Dash," Sunset said. "And … Novo Aris, and her daughter, and First Councillor Emerald."

Professor Ozpin's eyebrows rose.

"I thought … I hoped … Councillor Emerald would give me the punishment that you will not," Sunset said. "I will undertake … assignments, on his behalf."

"He has no right to do that," Professor Ozpin said firmly.

"He is the First Councillor," Sunset said.

"Nevertheless, he has no right," Professor Ozpin declared, his voice rising. "I will—"

"No, Professor, you won't," Sunset insisted. "This is … what I deserve."

Professor Ozpin frowned. "This will not bring you peace, Miss Shimmer."

"Perhaps not, Professor, but it is better than nothing," Sunset said.

"Your friends may not agree when you die to satisfy the First Councillor's hunger for revenge," Professor Ozpin said. "Have you considered that?"

Sunset swallowed. "I … I have, Professor. If I do not return I, give my voice in the succession to Pyrrha."

"I mean no slight against Miss Nikos when I say that I would rather you returned, Miss Shimmer," Professor Ozpin said softly. "Your team needs you, and you … may I give you some advice?"

Sunset nodded.

"When Raven asked me why I chose her, I answered her as I answered you, but I fear she did not hear me as I would have wished," Professor Ozpin said. "She saw it as her role to protect the others, and when she found — when she decided, when she realised, however you wished to say it — that she could not protect them, that she could not be their hero … she forsook them, taking flight from a duty she could not fulfil. Raven forgot that a team, ultimately, protects each other."

"I cannot tell them," Sunset whispered. "They would … they would think me a monster. I … I marvel, Professor, that you do not. Does this not go against all huntsman oaths?"

"You made a mistake," Professor Ozpin said. "And you regret it. And the next time, you will do better."

"I don't know if I want there to be a next time."

"I'm afraid there will always be a next time while you walk this road, Miss Shimmer," Professor Ozpin said softly, "and it is a road that one should not travel alone."

Sunset took a deep breath. "Thank you, Professor."

She left him there, standing on the cliffs, looking out across the Emerald Forest, alone. Alone, just as he had told her not to be. There was either some irony in that, or some terrible reason, and Sunset was not at all sure that she wanted to know which it was.

Besides, it was hardly her place to ask. She … she respected him more now than she had done; she had misjudged him, and yet, that did not make them close. Certainly, it did not make her close enough to pry into his private affairs. This was nothing that touched upon their work — that, she meant to find out; they would return to the subject of Auburn and Merida, assuming that Councillor Emerald didn't get Sunset killed first.

But for his own sorrow … he might keep it to himself, while he would.

For her own part, Sunset returned to the school, and would have returned to the dorm room save that she found Pyrrha first, wandering the grounds.

"Sunset!" Pyrrha cried. "I've been looking for you."

"And now you've found me," Sunset said. "Pyrrha, I—"

"I'm sorry," Pyrrha said, before Sunset could.

"You're sorry?" Sunset repeated. "You're sorry? I'm the one who—"

"I shouldn't have pushed you," Pyrrha said. "I said that I wanted to help you, and I do, but … but pushing you like that until you felt that you had to go … that was no way to help. It was no way for your best friend to behave. I'm sorry. I hate seeing you like this, but if you don't want to tell me what's wrong … I will respect that." She paused. "Although … if there's anything that I can do—"

"You're already doing it," Sunset informed her. "Well, actually, there is one thing."

"What?"

"You can help me cover this bruise up before Ruby and Jaune get back."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Assets and Operatives​

Portchester Manor was a secluded gothic edifice set behind Vale's Green Line, in the midst of the farmland that bordered on the city itself. The estate was wide and set behind its own wall for protection against the grimm, and within that wall was encompassed woods, a spring, and a not inconsiderable amount of good grouse moor.

'This was in my prayers,' a poet had once written, 'a measure of land not so large, with a garden and, near the house, a spring of pure water, and above this, a little patch of woods. The gods have given me more and better.'

The gods had certainly given the Portchester family more and better; they had enjoyed the rural idyll the ancient poets sang of without having to submit themselves to a rustic lack of creature comforts. The house from which they had presided over their large measure of land contained over a hundred rooms, including a ballroom, a library, a great dining hall, enough bedrooms for a score or more of guests, servants' quarters, and all the other trappings of a great aristocratic family.

The House of Portchester had been old, wealthy, and prestigious; they had served the kings of Vale in war and peace, and done very well for themselves in the process: lands, titles, offices, and honours had flowed to them, increasing in every generation. But to Cinder's mind, their story became truly interesting a few generations before the Great War, when a rash of deaths — including some that were rather sudden, unexpected, and terribly tragic — meant that the lordship of the family fell to a distant cousin, one Louis Mazzini, although he had, of course, taken the Portchester name upon his succession. Whatever his last name, old Louis had lived a grand life: married to a beautiful woman, popular with his servants and tenants, generous and kind, and only dying at a ripe old age, leaving behind a loving family. It was only after the old lord was dead that his memoirs were found, revealing — what a surprise! — that he had, with one or two exceptions, murdered all of the relatives who had stood between him and the Portchester lordship, including his wife's first husband. Apparently, his mother had been disowned by her aristocratic family after she eloped with an opera singer from Mantle, and he had not forgiven them for their refusal to allow her to be interred in the family crypt.

Cinder could sympathise with his desire for revenge, although to be perfectly honest, she could have sympathised with his desire to murder everyone who stood between him and a plum inheritance like this one as well. Not everyone had the good fortune to be born to, well, fortune; not everyone's good fortune lasted all their lives. Some people had to make their own good fortune in this world, even if that meant getting your hands a little dirty in the process. It was fair to say that Louis' reputation had declined somewhat once the truth came out, but as far as Cinder was concerned, he was the most admirable of the bunch; how much better to rise upon your own merits, to win the fruits of your wit and daring, than to let things come to you through happy accident of birth?

In any event, the family had survived the shock, no one had suggested disinheriting Louis' children for the crimes of their father, and the Portchesters had carried on. Well, to all outward appearances, at least. Apparently, they'd gotten a taste for hidden sins, and the later generations of the family had gotten involved in grimm worship. Nobody knew exactly how long the practice had been going on, but if one was to go down into the cellars, one could find a black temple, a shrine, all the necessary accoutrements for worshipping the creatures of destruction … and blood stains on the stone.

The locals had found out eventually, of course; one of the waifish village girls the lords had sought to sacrifice had possessed a strapping village lad as her beau, and said strapping lad had gotten into the manor and rescued his lass before she could be sacrificed. An outraged mob had marched upon the manor with pitchforks and torches … and the grimm, summoned by their outrage and their fury, had descended upon the whole pack of them, and in their slaughter, they had cared not for who worshipped them and who did not. And that had been the end of the Portchester family.

Understandably, nobody had been too keen to claim the inheritance at this point; in fact, nobody seemed to want the land at all. Nobody wanted to venture into the house, not even to demolish it. Local legend said that it was haunted: by the ghosts of those that Louis Mazzini had killed to get the house, by the ghosts of the victims of the Portchesters' sacrifices, or by the ghosts of those the grimm had devoured that final night.

Cinder was not concerned. She did not fear her own ghosts; she certainly didn't fear the ghosts of other men's crimes. If any of them wanted to try their hands at haunting her, they would soon find out that she could be scarier than any phantom.

She was currently in the bedroom that had, when the house was in its grandeur, belonged to the lady of the house. She did not need a bedroom, but people expected her to sleep, even though she didn't, so it was wise to retire to a bedroom of nights, even if all she did there was plot and plan and brood.

And it was, despite the dilapidated state of the house, rather a nice bedroom. Yes, there was fungus growing in one corner and black mould creeping up the walls, and it was hard to avoid the impression of rising damp wherever one looked, but if one put all of that aside and tried to imagine how it had looked in its pomp, one could recreate the dignity of the place when house and family alike were at their height. There was the dressing table at which Lady Edith, Louis' wife, had sat while the maid arranged her hair; there was the jewellery box which no one had had the courage to rob; there was the mirror in which she had admired herself — Cinder had cleaned it with a rag so that she could see her own face in it in turn — and beyond that, there was the window at which she might have stood and looked out across the land that was so wide and beautiful and all hers.

Right now, however, Cinder was looking not in the mirror, or out of the window, but rather, at the scroll in her hand which had just gone black, Sunset having hung up on her.

"You made me a monster."

"How tediously bourgeois of you," Cinder said aloud. She tossed the scroll down onto the dressing table and stared at her reflection in the mirror. With one idle hand, she brushed some of her hair out of her face, revealing her other eye. "Because it's wrong," she said, putting an undue, almost ridiculous amount of emphasis upon the word. She wagged her finger. "It's wrong!" She put her hands upon her hips. "You can't do that; it's wrong." She snorted in derision.

"You made me you."

The smirk faltered upon Cinder's face, and the worst part was that she could see it happening.

What was wrong with that? What was wrong with being her? She was something to be admired, respected, revered. She was strong and bold and daring. She had such courage in her as would bend the world around her; she had such ambitions as would put the moon back together; she was such as kingdoms trembled in fear of her!

She was all alone.

And? And what of that? That was no fault of hers; that was … an accident, because certain people preferred to be so very high and mighty, to stand in judgement of her, to look down on her as though they had any right. If people would rather call her monster than take her hand, was she to blame? If she was all alone, then it was the world's fault, not hers.

Not that she needed anyone else.

And why did Sunset have to say it like that, anyway? What had she been before that was so great that becoming more like Cinder was an awful fate for her?

She had been loved.

Cinder scowled, and as she scowled, she snatched up the scroll from the dressing table and sent Sunset a text message.

Fine. Be that way. See if I care.

The message sent, she threw the scroll back down again and moved away from the mirror. She didn't want to look at her own reflection anymore.

"You have made me you."

You didn't have to say it like that.

"You have made me you."

Then why don't you embrace it?

"You have made me you."

That was my intent, but I meant well by it.

The scowl remained on Cinder's face as she looked out of the window. The grounds, spacious if a little overgrown by now, brought her no joy to look on. She didn't want to think about Sunset anymore. She didn't want to think about what Sunset had said … but in her mind, there was no getting away from it.

She had sought to free Sunset from the constraints of petty modern morality, to make her into … well, into someone more like Cinder, a hero out of the old epics of Mistral: violent, to be sure, and dangerous to cross, but nobody judged the original Pyrrha being either of those things. Nobody called her a monster, or even a murderer. Nobody wagged their finger in her face and told her she was wrong.

No, they called her the greatest hero of their day, the greatest that had ever lived, the greatest in the canon of Mistralian literature.

Cinder had hoped that Sunset would come to see it the same way, the way that Cinder viewed herself. Instead, the chains of modern morality, harsh though they were, and cold, and utterly lacking in romance, seemed to have tightened into a noose that was strangling Sunset, and it was … it was all Cinder's fault.

Well, it was partly Sunset's fault for continuing to be bound by such things, but it was Cinder's fault as well.

She had not meant to hurt Sunset, but it seemed that she had hurt her nonetheless.

And that … well, that gave her pause. It made her think. It made her think in ways that she would rather not have thought of.

Many of the things for which she might be condemned were not near her conscience. Infiltrating Beacon, pretending to be someone she was not, gaining the confidence of those she meant to betray? That was a ruse de guerre, no different than tricking her way into a fortress. Killing those Atlesian soldiers at the tower? This was war, she was a soldier, and they had weapons in their hands; the fact that she was more skilled than they was no good nor evil thing. But Twilight Sparkle, up in the tower…

"You have made me you."

Sunset meant the deaths of those five little people in Vale — plus this Sky Lark fellow who had Sweetie Drops so worked up, and what was she going to do about that? She had called Sunset in part to have her ego stroked a little after Bon Bon's outburst, but instead, she had been left feeling worse than she had done before — but Cinder's mind was not on them. No great thing was ever accomplished without violence, and no Great Man of history ever concerned themselves with the cost of their ambitions. But Twilight Sparkle…

"You have made me you."

Cinder was what the world had made of her. If she was cruel, it was because the world had been cruel to her in turn. If she sought power, it was because power was the only way to keep yourself safe in this world. If she was ambitious, it was because this was not a world that would give you a handout if you waited patiently, or asked nicely, or were humble and good-hearted and trusted in the kindness of others. And if her ambitions threatened to trample upon others in her way, then it was only because she had seen that that was the way that men realised their ambitions in these kingdoms.

Cinder was what the world had made of her. Cinder … she was what Phoebe Kommenos had made of her.

"You have made me you."

And you made me you, Phoebe.

That had been a cruel bit of business in the tower. Foolish, hazardous — at the point at which Mercury had informed her that Rainbow Dash was on the way, she should have made her escape as quickly as possible, claimed innocence of anything that Twilight had found, and tried to get back into the tower again and plant the virus at a later date — and cruel. She had let the Phoebe inside come out and play.

"You have made me you."

Alright, yes, I can see how that might be seen as a bad thing.

I am not without virtue. I am cultured, erudite, and self-taught, what is more, intelligent, hard working … but that's not what you meant, is it, Sunset?

Cinder was given a respite from these musings — for which she was very grateful — when she saw a man approaching the house, walking up the road towards the front door. She recognised him as Captain Kyle of the King's Own Patch Light Infantry, the same grimm cultist who had escorted her and her followers through the Valish lines. Now, he approached, dressed in plain fatigues, with no insignia of rank visible and a bulging backpack hanging from one shoulder.

Cinder turned away, not even taking another look in the mirror, leaving the lady's bedroom and sweeping down the stairs, her glass slippers clicking upon the wooden boards, until she arrived in the hallway. Rusted suits of armour stood against the wall; portraits that were so dirty that the figures within them were invisible; the wooden panels were rotting away in places, suggesting some sort of infestation. The hall ran straight ahead from the grand staircase down which she had descended, with a few doors opening — and they were all open at the moment — off said hallway.

Cinder walked briskly down the corridor to the front door of the house, opening both the double doors before Captain Kyle could reach them. With luck, he wouldn't realise that she'd seen him from the window and would marvel at her perspicacity.

"Captain," she greeted him evenly.

He bowed his head. "Apostle," he murmured. "You knew I was coming?"

Cinder smiled. "I have been endowed with many gifts, Captain, and those gifts come with many abilities."

"Of course," he said. The good captain was a tall man, broad shouldered, with muscular arms — exposed, since he had his sleeves rolled up — and a round, bald head, although said baldness was mostly concealed beneath a green beret. "You … you are honoured indeed, apostle; I must admit, I envy you."

Envy, you say? You envy me? You envy what I am? You envy what I have done to myself? "Serve me well, Captain, in this and in my work here, and you too shall be rewarded," Cinder purred. Complete nonsense, of course, but the promise might carry him over some of the more unsavoury things that she might ask of him.

Captain Kyle's small brown eyes widened. "You mean … really?"

"You sound surprised," Cinder said. "Is that not what you have hoped for? What you have prayed for?"

Kyle hesitated. "Yes," he admitted, "but my worship has been lax of late; amongst the men, there is little room; there are few other disciples, but if we were discovered—"

"Your position is understood," Cinder assured him. "The outward shows of worship and obedience are important, but not as important as the faith you carry inside your heart. Keep the faith, serve when you are commanded, and all minor omissions will be forgiven. Why, simply for assisting me in this, the grimm will not trouble your men in their position."

"Thank you, apostle," Kyle replied. "They are not all worshippers, far from it, but they are good men, after their own fashion, and I would see them protected. That is one of the reasons why I became a disciple. Why strive against the darkness when we can serve it, and be protected by our service better than our arms ever kept us safe?"

"Why indeed?" Cinder replied. "Did you bring food?"

"Of course," Kyle said, dumping the backpack down on the doorstep. "It is poor fare, ration packs and MREs, but—"

"It will serve," Cinder told him. The Portchester larder was bare — or at least, it was bare of anything that Emerald or Lightning Dust were willing to try and eat — and even Cinder was not beyond the need for bodily sustenance. If Bon Bon had been more cooperative, then she could have bought them something from Vale, but that might have taken time in and of itself. This would tide them over until Cinder thought of how to best address their current position. She picked up the rucksack and moved it over the threshold, into the house and out of the way of the doors. "Thank you, Captain; this will not be forgotten."

"Hey, Captain!"

Cinder looked around. Sonata Dusk had poked her head out of the one of the doorways leading out into the hall, and now waved cheerily with her one visible hand.

"Nice to see you again!" she added brightly.

Once more, Kyle bowed his head, "It is an honour to stand in your presence, servant."

"Oh, you don't need to be so formal with little old me," Sonata said dismissively. "Just call me 'ma'am'!" She laughed. "Just kidding, you can call me Sonata, seeing as you're such a sweetheart. Ooh, is that food?"

"Thank you, Sonata, that will be all," Cinder growled. She returned her attention to the captain. "And that will be all for you as well, Captain. Return to your post, and if I have further need of you, I will send Emerald or Lightning with my instructions."

"I would be glad to receive any messenger touched by the darkness," Kyle said, "and to obey as swiftly as I may."

"Of course," Cinder said, and shut the doors on him with as much haste as she could get away with. "Emerald?" she called. Lightning Dust was patrolling the perimeter, but Emerald ought to be around here somewhere. "Emerald!"

"Here I am," Emerald replied, emerging from somewhere out of the back of the house. "Yes, Cinder?"

"This will be our food, for the next few days at least," Cinder announced, prodding the rucksack with her foot. "Take it into the kitchen and…" She trailed off from ordering Emerald to sort it into meals for them. Mercury had been their best cook — the result of a lifetime of taking care of his father — but Emerald could produce something edible, which was more than could be said for Lightning Dust. However…

"You have made me you."

Oh, please. You'd be lucky to be half as skilled as I am, Sunset.

"Take it into the kitchen," she repeated, "and I will … deal with it … later."

Emerald stared at her. "You will … are you going to make dinner?"

As a matter of fact, Cinder was — or had been — a fairly decent cook. It had been one of her many duties in the House of Kommenos, along with sewing, mending, cleaning — she could have cleaned this house, if she had had the mind — and the proper polishing of antique silverware. The origins of that particular skill meant that she did not much enjoy using it, for which reason she had kept her ability a secret from her minions. But, well … her conscience had been pricked, it seemed. She was more than just a cruel monster.

"Yes," she said, her voice low, the words emerging almost through gritted teeth. "I will take care of it."

Emerald continued to stare, eyes wide. "Do you … know how?"

"We'll see, won't we?" Cinder replied sarcastically.

"Because I don't—"

"I've given you your instructions," Cinder said sharply.

Emerald flinched. "Yes, of course you have, I'll just take those away…" She began to walk forward, quickly but softly, as if she were treading very carefully for fear the floor might collapse under her at any moment.

Cinder took a deep breath. "Noblesse oblige, Emerald," she said. "Take a rest, and let me take care of things."

Emerald hesitated, stopping her tracks. An uncertain smile flickered upon her face. "Of course. Thank you, Cinder." She picked up the rucksack and disappeared into the back of the house in the direction of the kitchen.

"That was nice of you," Sonata declared from the doorway. "You're not going to poison us all, are you?"

"No," Cinder said flatly. She advanced upon Sonata, who retreated before her back into the room from which she had half emerged. It was some sort of sitting room, with a mouldy settee and a dilapidated table sitting in front of it. "There was no need for you to show yourself to him."

"I was just being friendly," Sonata replied.

"There was no need for that, either," Cinder informed her.

Sonata didn't argue. Instead, she returned to the settee and sat down upon it, resting her feet on the table. "Have you made the arrangement for my big debut yet?" she asked.

The answer to that was no, but Cinder wasn't about to admit that. "Everything is in hand," she declared. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm not worried," Sonata said. "I am kind of looking forward to being able to change out of these rags, though."

Cinder didn't particularly like seeing her in those either; they were an uncomfortable reminder of things that she would rather have forgotten. However, even if she had been minded to do something about it — which she was not — she couldn't do so without the proper materials which she did not have.

Sonata seemed to realise that a response wasn't coming, because she said, "That really was a nice thing you did for Emerald."

Cinder snorted. "A good lord rewards her faithful servants and ensures that their needs are met, that they might serve her well in future."

Sonata nodded. "It's still nice of you to take care of us like that. I'm kind of surprised though, since—" She clasped her hands over her mouth.

Cinder's eyebrows rose. "Go on."

"It's nothing! Nothing at all. Forget I said anything. Nothing!" Sonata squeaked.

Cinder folded her arms. "I don't think I will. Finish what you were about to say. Please."

Sonata smiled weakly. "Well, it's just that I've heard that you … haven't … always taken care of the people who work for you."

Cinder grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and set in down on the other side of the little table. "What has Lightning Dust been complaining about?"

"I wouldn't say that she's been complaining," Sonata said. "She's just been … thinking aloud … where I can hear her."

Cinder chuckled. "Then what has Lightning been thinking about?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," Sonata said. "People dying for no reason, waste of resources … doesn't everyone think about that stuff some of the time?"

Cinder leaned back in her chair, but not too far back, because it was an old chair and might break if she put too much pressure on it. "How familiar are you with bloodshed?"

"Me? Not at all!" Sonata declared. "I'm just a singer."

Cinder's eyebrows rose sceptically.

"Okay, I'm a singer who can make people do what I want, but that's just the thing:" Sonata said, "why kill people when they're doing what you want anyway?"

Cinder was silent for a moment. As the leader of the operation at Mountain Glenn, the deaths of the White Fang might be said to be her responsibility. It was certainly not something that could be described as noblesse oblige in any way. She had sent them to their deaths, just like—

"You have made me you."

"Cinder?" Sonata asked. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Cinder said sharply. She took a deep breath, and huffed loudly. "It is true that there has been much bloodshed, and that much of the bloodshed has so far been on our side. But no matter what Lightning Dust may huff and puff or 'think aloud' where you can hear her, their sacrifice was not pointless. Preserving that force in the face of a superior enemy, that would have been pointless; the White Fang became fodder the moment … things change. Plans change. Circumstances change, and with them, our designs. It is true that I had planned to use the White Fang in a way which might have preserved more of their lives, but that … became impossible."

"You have made me you."

All of them were willing to give their lives for the cause.

Sonata was silent for a moment. "But now you have a new plan, right?"

"Yes," Cinder said. "I have a new plan, and I have you."

Sonata smiled. "Thank you, for your confidence. It feels good to have someone depending on my skills." She looked away. "My sisters … they treat me like… they always treated me like…"

"Like someone less?" Cinder guessed. "Less in talent, less in ability, less in worth?"

Sonata's eyes widened. "How did you—?"

"I know the feeling," Cinder told her. She leaned forwards. "We are going to show them all, you and I. We will show them what worth has lain in us undreamt of. We will change this world and make a place for ourselves in it."

Sonata grinned. A little giggle escaped her. "Well, gee, that sounds really nice! That sounds awesome! But … what's going to happen to me when we're done?"

Cinder got to her feet. "Serve me well," she said, "and I will see you set free from Salem's imprisonment."

"'Free'?" Sonata repeated. "You mean that?"

"I have no desire to put a collar back around your neck," Cinder said. "You should be free, to do as you will, to shine as bright as you may, without harm or interference." She walked to the door, stopping to look back. "This world tries to grind down people like us, but we'll show them."

Sonata nodded. "We sure will."

Cinder left her there and returned to her room. The scroll was still sitting there on the dressing table where she had left it. She approached, but slowly, and stared down at the scroll for a few moments, staring at it as though she were trying to will it to move without touching it, before with a sigh, she finally picked it up, snapped it open, and sent Sunset another message.

That anger that you're feeling? That rage that grips you? The hatred that you bear for me? That is how I feel every single day. All the fire that burns in you has raged in me for years. So perhaps now you will not be so quick to tell me to get over it, or to to keep moving forward.

And yet I am sorry to have wounded you as I was wounded.

Then she called Doctor Watts. She had a feeling it was not going to be one of the highlights of her day.

The fact that it took him an unconscionably long time to answer as she stood there waiting wasn't a particularly good start.

Finally, after Cinder had begun to tap her foot in frustration, he answered voice only, and Cinder was greeted to the sound of that plum voice with its permanently smug, supercilious tone. "Cinder, how nice to hear your voice again so soon."

"Arthur," Cinder replied, with chilly courtesy.

"Thank you for providing a distraction the other night," Doctor Watts said. "I trust you were able to evade James' guard dogs?"

"Obviously, or we wouldn't be speaking, would we?"

"You're right, of course, how foolish of me. So, what else can I do for you? Would you like another virus you can squander?"

Cinder rolled her eyes. "Sweetie Drops isn't cooperating."

"Oh my word," Doctor Watts said in mock surprise. "Why ever not?"

"Something to do with a death," Cinder said. "One of her teammates was killed in the Breach, and she's upset about it. I need you to talk some sense into her and remind her that this is a mission and that the dead boy was an enemy, not a friend. Remind her of where her duty lies."

"Shouldn't that be your job?" Doctor Watts asked. "I gave you Sweetie Drops, I entrusted her to your command, and now, you're saying that your leadership skills are insufficient—"

"I'm telling you that your operative has been as good as useless from the day I met her, and now, she is actively insubordinate!" Cinder snapped. "Take her in hand, or—"

"Or what?" Doctor Watts asked.

Cinder closed her mouth to suppress the wordless growl that sought to issue from her throat. The worst part was that he was right. She had no sanction other than tattling to Salem on him, and while Salem might not be best pleased that Watts was putting the operation in jeopardy out of spite — then again, she might not mind; she did encourage this kind of competition amongst her servants — it would hardly do much for Cinder's standing in Watts' eyes if she had to resort to such.

"If you help me here," she said, "I will return the favour when the time comes for you to lead an operation. I — and my people — could be useful to you in Atlas. Don't you want to see the city fall? Don't you want to see the hope die in Ironwood's eyes? Don't you want to show them what fools they were to reject your genius? I can help you make that happen; I will help you, you have my word. But only if you help me here."

Doctor Watts was silent for a moment. "I won't talk to Sweetie Drops," he said.

"What?"

"I have a better idea," Doctor Watts went on. "I have another operative at Beacon, a better operative. I'll instruct them to make contact; they can handle whatever it is you need from them."

"'Another operative'?" Cinder yelled. "'A better operative' at Beacon? Why wasn't I informed of this?"

"You didn't need to know," Doctor Watts said. "It wasn't as though your plan had room for them."

"You have saddled me with a useless—"

"Do you want to go over the past, or do you want my help?" Doctor Watts asked.

Cinder took a deep breath and told herself that there would be a reckoning for all these slights some time in the future. But not yet, not quite yet. "What is your operative's name?"

XxXxX​

"Can I have a word?"

Bon Bon glanced in the direction of the voice. It belonged to … someone she had seen around, but whose name she didn't know. She was an Atlesian, part of Trixie's team, the quiet one of the bunch. The quiet one who wasn't Sunburst. She was a pony faunus, with a magenta tail descending down between her legs. She was also very tall, about as tall as Pyrrha, maybe even a little taller, taller than Rainbow Dash for certain, and although she wasn't quite as broad in the shoulders, she nevertheless gave off an impression of strength.

The muscles on her arms might have had something to do with that.

Her arm, rather. One of her arms was a prosthetic; that was something that Bon Bon hadn't noticed until now, partly because she hadn't, honestly, been paying much attention but also partly because, as far as she remembered, this girl tended to go around wearing a bodysuit that covered her skin from the neck down. She wasn't wearing that now, instead wearing a short magenta jacket with a dark hood and collar, over a white t-shirt and blood red pants. The sleeves of her jacket were rolled up, revealing the gleaming metal of her prosthetic arm, as well as the fact that the remaining arm was bound around with bandages.

Her hair was as magenta as her tail, but had been shaved off on both sides of her head, leaving only a tall Mohawk rising up in the middle like the crest of a helmet. A scar ran down the right side of her face, crossing one of her cold opal eyes.

"I don't have time," Bon Bon said. "I'm about to—"

"Meet your friends, yes," the other girl said. "Make them wait a little longer."

"And why would I do that?" Bon Bon demanded.

The other girl grinned. "Because you and I share a mutual acquaintance. Doctor Arthur Watts?"

Bon Bon had just finished taking off her armour and stowing it in her locker. That seemed kind of unlucky at the moment. But she could still reach her morningstar.

"There's no need for that," the girl said. "I'm a friend, and I really do just want to talk." She smiled. "I won't even keep you that long."

Bon Bon left her locker open, and although she turned to face the other girl, she didn't move away from her weapon. "Who are you?"

"My name is Tempest Shadow, of Team Tsunami," Tempest said. "For the moment, at least. Like you, I have other, higher allegiances."

Bon Bon was silent for a moment. "That arm … is that how you met Doctor Watts?"

Tempest looked down at the aforementioned arm. "Ursa attack, when I was a kid. You?"

"Faunus terrorists."

"Ouch," Tempest said. "But yes, that is how I met Doctor Watts. Unlike you, he couldn't completely cover up my injuries — the ursa hadn't left enough of my arm for that — but he put me back together better than most other doctors could have. And in return—"

"He doesn't deserve your loyalty," Bon Bon said. "I'm done with him."

"You're done with Cinder Fall, is what I heard," Tempest replied. "I enjoyed hearing about that, and so did Doctor Watts. He wants you to know that. He wants you to know that he's proud of you, putting that pompous ass in her place."

"Watts gave me away to Cinder like I didn't mean anything!" Bon Bon yelled. "Watts…" She lowered her voice. "I don't need Watts's pride. I don't need anything from him—"

"Except his silence," Tempest said bluntly. "Do you know how easy it would be to expose you?"

Bon Bon's breath caught in her throat. Slowly, she began to reach for Sirius.

"I really wouldn't do that," Tempest said, her prosthetic hand curling into a fist. "This will go much easier if you just hear me out."

"Why?" Bon Bon demanded. "Why are you here? If you were working for Watts all the time, then why weren't you—?"

"Given to Cinder, like you?" Tempest finished for her. "I really couldn't say."

Unfortunately, Bon Bon thought that she could say. Tempest had not been given to Cinder because Doctor Watts liked Tempest better than he liked Bon Bon, valued her more, saw more potential in her.

Despite her declaration that she was done with Watts, Bon Bon was filled with the urge to bash Tempest's head in with her morningstar.

"He doesn't care about you," she spat. "You might think that he does, you might think that he sees something in you, but you'll find out, just like I did—"

"Stop," Tempest said, a touch of weariness entering her voice. "I'm sorry, I'm trying to be as patient as I can, but I really don't care what kind of daddy issues you have; I'm not doing this for the attention of a father figure."

"Do you even know what you are doing?" Bon Bon demanded. "Do you know why?"

Tempest's smile was like a knife. "We're going to tear down the world and remake it in our image."

A shiver ran down Bon Bon's back. "Why? Why would you want to do that?"

Tempest glanced down at her prosthetic. "When I was a child, I had two best friends," she said. "I don't remember whose idea it was to go into the dark and creepy cave to get our ball back, but it wasn't mine. I lost my arm defending them from an ursa, but when Doctor Watts was finished with me, neither of them wanted to know me. I was broken. I'd lost my humanity. You're lucky; you've never had to find out how our society treats people with artificial limbs."

"General Ironwood—"

"Gets no end of crap thrown his way for it; it's one of the reasons I actually feel sorry for him," Tempest said. "People look at me like I'm dangerous, they ask me what it's like only having one arm — I have two arms, right here!" she yelled, holding up her hands. "And even that's better than the people who ask me if my arm has a vibrate function, I mean, gods!" She bowed her head and half turned away from Bon Bon, leaning on the row of closed lockers, back bent a little. "I'm not evil because my arm is made of metal."

"No, you might be evil because you're planning to wreck the world," Bon Bon said.

Tempest sniggered. "Okay, I'll give you that one, but … if the world will not accept me as I am, then I will make a new world where I will stand amongst the mighty, and those who sneered and mocked … caged at my command." She smiled. "Or I'll just get a new arm with magic. One of the two, I guess." She sniggered. "The question is: what do you want?"

"I want revenge," Bon Bon said. "I want Cinder to pay for what she's done, I want her to pay for Sky. But I also don't want Lyra or Dove to get hurt. The truth is, I'm not wild about the idea of anyone else getting hurt anymore."

The smile remained on Tempest's face. "Unfortunately, I can't promise that absolutely no one will get hurt from here on out, but I think I can promise the safety of your teammates, and as for revenge … that, I can absolutely guarantee."

Bon Bon frowned. "You're not working for her then?"

"I prefer to say that I'm being inserted into the game," Tempest said. "Cinder's blown it. She's squandered her resources, her original plan has been completely derailed, and she's scrambling to find another one; now, her new plan is not without merit, but at this point, after this many screw-ups, I don't think she deserves to take the credit for a successful operation, do you?"

"Doctor Watts means for you to swoop in and do that, doesn't he?"

"Precisely," Tempest said. "But I could use someone to watch my back. So what do you say?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"You don't have to help me," Tempest said. "But I can't guarantee anyone's safety if you don't."

Then I don't have a choice, do I? Bon Bon thought. She wanted revenge, but it alone might not have been enough, but for Lyra and Dove … she would do anything for them. Anything at all.

Anything to avoid another Sky.

She stepped forward and held out her hand. "I'm in."

XxXxX​

Author's Note: The history of the Portchester family - at least the part about Louis Mazzini - is, barring the ending, the plot of Kind Hearts and Coronets, the greatest of the Ealing Comedies, at least in my opinion, and a film that I thoroughly recommend watching.

 

[ScipioSmith]

The Girl on the Box

​

Pyrrha swallowed. "This is wonderful, Jaune!" she declared. "I had no idea that you could cook Mistralian food!"

Jaune, sitting next to her upon her bed, smiled bashfully. "I didn't know I could do it either, until I did. Are you sure that everything turned out okay?"

Pyrrha took another modest bite out of her lamb kofta, having made sure to dip it in tzatziki first. "This is the best I've had since leaving Mistral," she said.

Jaune's cheeks reddened. "You're just saying that."

"I am not," Pyrrha insisted. She smiled. "Although it certainly doesn't hurt that this is all made with love." She leaned across the slight distance between them – very slight, their shoulders were practically touching – and kissed him on the cheek.

"Come on, please," Sunset begged amusedly; she was sitting at the desk that ran along the wall – the entire team was concentrated in the back half of the dorm room, with Jaune and Pyrrha upon Pyrrha's bed, Ruby on her own bed, and Sunset sat off to the side – with her chair turned around so that she was facing the others. "Some consideration for the less fortunate. Don't rub in it."

Pyrrha chuckled, but nevertheless said, "I'm sorry."

Sunset waved one hand dismissively. "That said," she went on, "this really is very good stuff." She held up her plate, with a pair of courgette fritters piled on top of one another, with a pile of yogurty tzatziki sitting on the side of the plate. "These here are delicious."

"I was a little worried there wasn't going to be a lot you could have," Jaune explained. "So I wanted to make sure that what you could have tasted good."

"Well, there are no complaints here, so thank you," Sunset said.

"This is great, Jaune," Ruby added, in between bites out of her flatbread stuffed with grilled meat, chopped tomato and onions. "And it was a great idea, too."

"I felt like doing something different to going to the cafeteria or to Benni Havens," Jaune explained. "Something, a little special, you know. I think we all deserve it, after the last couple of weeks."

"You'll get no argument from me," Sunset said, which somewhat surprised Pyrrha, considering the way that Sunset had been acting lately. Moreso even than Ruby, Pyrrha would have expected Sunset to be the first one to argue that they didn't deserve a good time or a good meal.

Since apparently she had felt that what they really deserved – what she really deserved, at least – was to be beaten to a pulp by Bon Bon.

But since she had come back after teleporting away, there had been something a little different about Sunset. Pyrrha didn't know what had happened to her while she, Pyrrha, had been looking for Sunset, but clearly something had. Her aura, reactivated, was hard at work healing the bruises – it might even grow her a new tooth, this wasn't a situation with which Pyrrha was intimately familiar – and a few deft touches of Pyrrha's makeup were hiding the rest of the effects for now.

Pyrrha just wished that she knew who to thank.

Not that she would stop watching. One day of changed behaviour was not enough to put aside all of Pyrrha's worries – except of course that this was a night for putting aside worries and enjoying what they had.

The fare was what one might call typical Mistralian food – or at least it was a tradition of Mistralian food; Mistral embraced many traditions in culture, fashion, and food, but this was the particular Mistralian tradition which embraced Pyrrha and her family, and Pyrrha found herself rather pleased that he had gotten that right – but the fact that it was the sort of thing that one might find in a taverna in many parts of Mistral and Anima was no slight against it, especially from someone who was not a professional. Fresh fish, grilled whole and lightly drizzled with lemon and oil dressing; whitebait; grilled skewers of pork and lamb, flatbreads, the courgette fritters that Sunset was enjoying, olives and olive oil, and of course the creamy tzatziki and tarasamalata dips that added just the right touch to the meat and fish respectively. There was even a bowl of moussaka sitting on the floor between them, half consumed already as they had spooned it out onto their plates.

"This wasn't too much for you, was it?" Pyrrha asked anxiously. "Because you probably didn't need to-"

"It's fine," Jaune assured her. "It wasn't as though I had anything better to do. And besides, me and Ruby had a good time finding all the ingredients, right?"

"My feet might beg to differ," Ruby groaned. "Is there any reason we couldn't have just gone to the mall?"

"The meat and fish taste better fresh," Jaune said. "Although they're probably not the same fish you'd get in Mistral."

"Fish are fish, aren't they?" Sunset asked.

Jaune boggled at her. "I know you're a vegetarian, but seriously?"

"I'm a vegetarian unicorn from another world," Sunset reminded him. "But am I wrong?"

"Yes!" Jaune cried. "Each fish has its own unique flavour, texture, consistency-"

"If fish has its own flavour, then why is it always either deep fried in batter or slathered in sauce?" Sunset asked, with the air of someone who thought they'd found an unanswerable question.

"This fish is only very lightly seasoned," Pyrrha pointed out quietly.

Sunset stared at her for a moment. "That… is the exception that proves the rule," she said, in a voice flooded with asperity.

"Not that there's anything wrong with fish and chips," Ruby said.

"Other than the fact that it's about as good for you as Pyrrha's cereal," replied Sunset.

"It's not my cereal," Pyrrha murmured.

Jaune began, "Pyrrha's cereal-"

"It's not mine."

"May not be all that good for the body, but it's really good for the soul," Jaune concluded.

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "How can a cereal with far too much marshmallow in be good for the soul."

"Uh…" Jaune hesitated. He glanced at Pyrrha, his face turning red. "Well… you see, uh… it doesn't matter."

"Oh no," Sunset said, a wicked grin upon her face as she leaned forwards. "You're not getting away that easily. Come on, out with it."

"Sunset-" Pyrrha began.

"It's fine," Jaune said, although he didn't make it sound entirely fine. He twisted his body slightly away from Pyrrha, then glanced at her, a little over his shoulder. His face remained as red as any of the tomatoes he had chopped up to go with the soulvaki.

"I remember, the first time I saw your face on the cereal box," he said. "You looked so confident, standing there with that smile on your face, and you were dressed like a hero."

"I thought you didn't recognise-" Sunset began.

"Shhhh!" Ruby hissed, gesturing with one hand for Sunset to be quiet.

Jaune didn't notice the interruption, or pretended not to. "The truth is, that I hadn't actually had that many Marshmallow Flakes up until then. I… well, Pumpkin Pete's does a lot of other cereals, and some of them were nicer. I think River only picked up the Marshmallow Flakes that day because it was all they had in the store." With one hand, he tugged idly at the sleeve of his hoodie; with the armour off, the Pumpkin Pete logo of the mischievous grey rabbit was plain to see. "This hoodie was a top prize, you know?"

Pyrrha could feel her own face heating up a little to match Jaune's ruddy hue. "Yes," she said softly. "I remember." She could not contain a chuckle. "Although I never thought that anyone would actually go for it. Did you really buy fifty boxes of that cereal?"

"Not all at once," Jaune said defensively. "But, yeah, I bought fifty boxes. I didn't eat anything else for breakfast until I had all the tokens to send away for the hoodie. My sisters thought I was crazy, eating fifty boxes of kids cereal in a row like that, but I guess… I guess I wanted to finish something, you know. I'd started collecting those tokens, I didn't want to just give up and drop it like I had everything else. I wanted to finish what I started, for the girl on the front of the box whose proud face inspired me."

Pyrrha couldn't keep the smile off her face. She hoped that she would be forgiven for that; she hoped that most girls would struggle to keep the smile off their face hearing this – where they were the subject, of course. Similarly, she couldn't keep a slight teasing note out of her voice as she said, "Oh, really? I inspired you? Even though you didn't recognise me when you met me in person?"

"Well…"

"I was even wearing the same outfit," Pyrrha pointed out.

"Yeah, but come on, how was I to know that I'd actually meet that girl – meet you – for real?" Jaune asked. "I never thought that I'd… I always thought that that girl, that you, were on a whole other level to me, the idea that I'd meet you in person, let alone team up with you, let alone… I never imagined that would happen." He paused for a moment. "They took your picture off the box just before I got to fifty tokens. It was like… it sounds kind of stupid, but I imagined that you'd had to go, like you were on some other adventure somewhere. I think that a part of me didn't realise that you were only my age, just a student. In some ways, that inspired me to go to Beacon. The girl on the cereal box wasn't sitting around in the same place forever, she was going places, having adventures, helping people. I thought that I should probably do the same." He chuckled nervously, and rubbed the back of his head with one hand. "Plus, you're totally different in person. You don't smile all the time, but when you do smile it looks nothing like it did on the cereal box. It's so much more lively, and it makes your eyes light up." He looked at her. "That's another thing that the box didn't capture, the way that your eyes… I guess what I'm trying to say is that if I didn't recognise you, it's because some picture on a cereal box has nothing on the real you."

"Now kiss," Sunset said.

Jaune squeaked in embarrassment. Had he forgotten that Sunset and Ruby were there? Pyrrha had almost done that herself, so she could hardly blame him.

She looked away, one hand reaching up to play with the lock of hair that fell down on the right side of her face; she twirled the locks of red around her finger, over and over again, as her cheeks heated up.

And yet the smile remained on her face nonetheless. The smile he found so lively, and so lovely.

It had not been love at first cereal box, or else he would hardly have chased after Weiss the way he had, but nevertheless… it was so, so very wonderful to hear.

"Well… you never know what life might throw your way, do you?" she said. "Put like that, it almost seems like fate."

Jaune laughed. "Yeah, I guess. Especially when you consider that…"

She looked at him. "Consider what?"

"Well," he said, "after a while, when I kept on buying and eating that cereal, my sister Kendal used to tease me that it was because I was in love with the girl on the box."

"Really?" Pyrrha asked. "Won't she be surprised, huh?"

Jaune laughed nervously. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess she will."

"When are you two lovebirds planning to leave?" Sunset asked.

Jaune bought himself time by eating some grilled fish. "Not for a little while longer," he said. "Not for… about another week."

"I see," Sunset said. "I'll give you some time, introduce Pyrrha to your family, have your fun, and then let me know when I can follow you down and research your family history."

"You're still going to do that?" Jaune asked.

"Of course I am," Sunset said. "I made a promise to Lady Nikos. Or don't you want to find our that you're really a lord?"

Jaune shook his head. "There's not a lot of chance of that."

"You never know," Sunset said. "Would it bother you, if it turned out that your family was really something special?"

"Everyone's family is already special, to them," Ruby said. "Unless… I mean, they should be."

Sunset smiled. "That's a very lovely sentiment, Ruby, but you all know what I mean."

"I don't think it would make much difference," Jaune said. "It wouldn't change who I am, and it wouldn't change who my family is. Maybe it would change the way some people in Mistral look at me – and look at me for being with Pyrrha – but even then, I'm not so sure. I don't… I mean, I still wouldn't have money, or land, or anything else that a real nobleman would have."

"But you have me," Pyrrha said, putting a gentle hand upon Jaune's back. "Something that none of the rest of them possess."

"No," Jaune murmured. "No, I guess they don't."

Pyrrha smiled. "Jaune… did I… did my picture, really inspire you? I thought that your family-"

"My family lineage… I guess that told me that I could do it, and they left me a weapon to do it with," Jaune said. "But you… the girl on the cereal box wasn't always telling me that no, I really couldn't, or that I shouldn't bother, or that I didn't have what it took. You were just always smiling, like you thought I could do it."

That was very sweet, but it was the first part of what he had said that concerned Pyrrha more, and the first part that made her frown a little beneath her circlet. "Jaune, are you… I mean, do you want to go back and visit your family?"

"Uh, y-yeah," Jaune said, without much conviction. "I promised my mom that I would."

"That's not quite what I asked," Pyrrha said.

"I'll be fine," he told her, which wasn't what she'd asked either. "My family… I can't stay away from them forever, right?"

"Jaune," Pyrrha murmured.

"I want to do this, Pyrrha," Jaune declared. "I mean… my parents, my sisters, they aren't… they weren't… they're still my family."

What does that mean? Pyrrha wanted to ask. Then why do you seem so afraid of them? Nothing that he had said about them was particularly endearing the Arcs to Pyrrha, and she was almost beginning to think that she needed to go with Jaune not to meet his family but to protect him from his family.

But she did not push. She had learnt her lesson from Sunset earlier today; it was clearly not something that Jaune felt particularly comfortable talking about, and she had no desire to make him feel even more uncomfortable now. Not ever, but especially when he had gone to all this trouble for her – for the whole team, but especially for her.

Nevertheless, she was glad that she would be there, just as she was glad that they would eventually be joined by Sunset. If Jaune's family were what he was implying them to be… Pyrrha would always stand by him, but she was afraid that she would struggle to match Sunset's aggression in the face of critique.

Sunset seemed to also grasp that Jaune wished to change the subject, at least a little bit, because she said, "Here's something that I don't understand about your lovely story, well, actually there are two things, and one of them has bothered me for some time: what were you doing on that cereal box anyway? It hardly seems like the kind of thing that fits your… it hardly seems becoming of a princess of Mistral."

"I'm a princess without a crown, at best," Pyrrha reminded her.

Sunset grinned. "Yeah, of course, but you know what I mean. It's hardly aristocratic, to give out endorsements like that. It's all just a little bit… commercial."

Pyrrha chuckled. "You're right of course. It was frightfully commercial. I was very surprised when Mother let me do it."

"That makes two of us, I must admit," Sunset muttered.

"It doesn't seem right, does it?" Pyrrha asked. "Pumpkin Pete hardly seems to belong in the same world as Soteria or the House of Nikos."

"I couldn't have put it better myself," Sunset said. "So what happened?"

"Actually, it's Arslan who deserves the thanks for that," Pyrrha explained. "I was… I suppose you could say that I was jealous of her philanthropy. I couldn't get involved in anything like that – I don't have the standing, I'm too privileged to stand up for the under-privileged – but I envied the way that she was able to do more than just fight for the amusement of the crowds. She was able to make the world a better place, materially affect their lives." She paused. "Do you know that last year she actually forced the Council to back down?"

"Really?" Ruby asked.

Pyrrha nodded. "The economy has been… well, I don't really understand the complexities, but it's been going down for a while. Or it was, I think it's getting better now, at least that's what the journalists say. Anyway, it didn't affect me or my mother, it didn't really affect most of the great families, but for people lower down the mountain I understand that things got very difficult. Parents having to choose between feeding their children or feeding themselves, that sort of thing. Appalling. Not the sort of thing that I've ever had to worry about, not the sort of thing I could do anything about, but Arslan campaigned to have the free school meal entitlement extended, so that many more children would get a meal at school without having to worry about how they could afford it; she used her prestige and her fame to get the public behind her, and the Council, despite having set its face against her demands, yielded." She paused. "I felt very guilty beating her that year, because I felt that she deserved to win, after her heroic efforts. She was clearly the better person, and if it weren't for the fact that she would have known I was throwing the fight and never forgiven me I would have, well, I would have thrown the fight. And I felt especially guilty because Lady Ming was very cruel to her after she lost, telling her to focus on punches instead of politics in future.

"I know that you think she's doing the right thing in becoming a huntress, Ruby, and I do as well, but I do think that the loss of her activism will be a great loss to Mistral. I hope that she can find a way to keep her profile up and continue to support her pet causes as she intends.

"Anyway, I wanted to do something – or to feel as though I was doing something – so I begged my mother to let me do the endorsement when they asked so that I could donate the money to Arslan's breakfast charity."

"You could have just asked your mother to donate some money," Sunset pointed out.

"I know, but it would have been her money then," Pyrrha explained. "I wanted to give away my money, if that makes any sense."

"It's probably a better reason than most people have for endorsing a product like that," Ruby pronounced.

"But your mother never really warmed to the idea and let the deal lapse, which is why you got taken off the box?" Sunset guessed.

"I'm back at the moment," Pyrrha said. "There was a time when, yes, Mother wanted to end the arrangement – she'd been on the receiving of sneers in the salons for, as you said, commercialising me and soiling her hands with the pursuit of money – and they took me off the box during negotiations, but eventually…" Pyrrha ventured a smile. "She'll never admit it, but I think that Mother secretly enjoys the fact that my fame has reached the point where a Remnant-wide brand wants me to sell their product. It's not a kind of glory that my ancestors would have recognised, you won't find it in the pages of the Mistraliad, but it is a kind of glory nevertheless."

Sunset chuckled. "You might be right about that, but Jaune, that's why you shouldn't get too hung up on the fact that you'll still have no money even if you turn out to have class. Yes, money is important, but equally important is where the money does or doesn't come from. The fact that you don't have money will not be nearly as bad as if you'd made money in trade."

"That sounds kind of dumb," Ruby said.

"It's not about wisdom, it's about standards," Sunset declared. "Gentlemen – or gentlemares, for that matter – do not do anything so sordid as to work for a living."

Ruby's silver eyes narrowed. "No, it still sounds dumb."

Ruby's scroll went off before Sunset could reply. Ruby fished it out of one of the pouches on her belt, opening it up to see who it was. "Oh, it's Juturna."

"Speaking of Mistralian aristocracy," Sunset muttered.

Ruby looked around the room. "Do you want me to tell her it's not a good time? Or I could just not answer?"

"That would be rather rude of you," Pyrrha pointed out. "And I've no problem with you answering, provided that she doesn't want to speak privately."

"No, I'm fine too," Jaune said.

"Same here," Sunset said. "Answer if you want to talk to her." She started to dig into her meal.

"I'm a little confused by how it can possibly be a good time for Juturna, though," Pyrrha said. "It's the middle of the night in Mistral."

Ruby shrugged. "I guess we'll find out." She pressed the green button to take the call. "Hey, Juturna."

"Ruby!" Juturna cried. "I knew you'd still be awake."

"Yeah, it's not even eight o'clock here in Vale," Ruby replied. "What time is it in Mistral?"

"It's… gone midnight," Juturna said. "But I can't sleep, and I'm bored of lying here in bed, so it was either call you or use my semblance to sneak out of the house and go to a club. And I might still do that, but I thought I'd talk to you first because Camilla won't be mad at me for it."

Ruby laughed. "Uh, the rest of my team is here and they can here everything, is that okay?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "That's the chick with the sword, right?"

"Good evening, Lady Juturna," Sunset said, hastily swallowing some courgette fritter. "Or should be that be good night?"

Juturna sniggered. "'Good evening, Lady Juturna'," she repeated, in an exaggerated tone. "Well, aren't you fancy? Did you decide to start talking like that after Lady Nikos gave you the sword or did she give you Soteria because you had the right voice for it?"

Sunset rolled her eyes. "I scarcely know what my lady means."

"I mean not even my brother and Camilla talk like that, at least not all the time, and certainly not in the house," Juturna said. "Hey, Ruby, if your team is here does that mean Pyrrha and her boyfriend are here too?"

"Hello, Juturna," Pyrrha said.

"Hey, Pyrrha," Juturna called. "Are you still dating the upstart?"

"His name is Jaune," Pyrrha said frostily. "But yes."

"Don't blame me, it's what Turnus calls him," Juturna said. "Anyway, the point is, good job! Keep doing that! Rooting for you guys! So, Ruby… hey, weren't you in a coma?"

Ruby laughed nervously. "Y-yeah, yeah I was. How did you hear about that?"

"Camilla told me," Juturna said. "She heard it from Lady Nikos. So what happened?"

"Oh, nothing much," Ruby said, trying a little too hard to sound casual. "I got into a fight, and ended up getting knocked out."

"Must have been quite a knock," Juturna said. "But you're okay now, right? What am I saying, of course you are, we wouldn't be talking otherwise. Which we are, which is good! Anyway, you should take care of yourself."

"So everyone tells me," Ruby sighed resignedly.

Juturna cackled. "Yeah, I'll bet. Let me guess, is Pyrrha mothering you?"

"Pyrrha isn't the worst," Ruby said, with a glance at Sunset, who responded by rolling her eyes.

"Oh, it's the sword girl, Sunset, right? Yeah, I know exactly how you feel, believe me, I have a big brother and Camilla, who is even worse, so I get it, I really do. But all the same, you should still be careful, it's so not worth it."

Ruby blinked. "What isn't worth it?"

"You know, dying," Juturna said. "What were even fighting about?"

"I was trying to protect people," Ruby said. "We all were."

"Well, they're not worth it, either," Juturna said dismissively.

Ruby's eyebrows rose. "What do you mean they're not worth it?" she demanded. "Who isn't?"

"You know… people," Juturna said.

Ruby gasped. "That… that's a terrible thing to say!" she exclaimed. "Juturna, that's awful!"

Pyrrha had to admit, she was rather surprised herself. It was… it was not the sort of thing one was expected to say, even if you believed it, and it was not the sort of thing that you were expected to believe, either. It was certainly antithetical to the ideals of nobility – the good lord, the shepherd of the people, the benevolent source of authority and justice – but even though those ideals may have become tarnished by the years, she liked to think that they had not degraded into outright callousness such as Juturna was giving voice to. She liked to think that some semblance of the ideals of public service and duty yet remained.

"You're not going to get all high and mighty on me, are you?" Juturna asked, with a touch of boredom creeping into her voice.

"Yes, if I have to!" Ruby cried. "I don't understand how you can say something like that-"

"I can say something like that because my father dedicated his life to protecting and serving the people and when he was murdered in the street none of those people so much as blinked!" Juturna snapped. "That's how I can say that they're not worth it."

Silence descended on the dorm room. Pyrrha, for one, didn't know what to say. Juturna's views were, objectively, not particularly pleasant, but at the same time… it was hard to judge her for it, considering where they came from. What had happened to old Lord Rutulus, what had been done to him… it had shamed all Mistral, and the shame had been compounded by how little had been done about it until after Camilla had done the hard work. Yes, the city authorities, the Council and the great families, had acted to make sure that no one would rise up to replace the slain kingpin and his associates, Lady Terri-Belle had mopped up the residuum of Camilla's vengeance and driven crime back into the lower slopes, but… the fact is it had taken Camilla to make that first and bloody step.

She was not great friends of the Rutulians, but that their family had been wronged by Mistral was… undeniable.

"Juturna," Ruby said, her voice softening, losing some of its judgement. "I'm sorry, about your father, I really am, but… but that doesn't mean that… they're still people. They still… they're still lives, human lives. They still matter."

"Do you think they'll give a damn about you if you die for them?" Juturna asked. "Do you think they'll know you existed?"

"I don't care," Ruby said, solemnly and – Pyrrha believed – utterly sincerely. "I don't care if they know my name, or not; I don't care if they care that I died, or why; I don't care about recognition or glory or any of the rest of it. Their lives matter."

"And what about your life?" Juturna asked.

Ruby smiled. "Now you really do sound like Sunset."

"And you sound like…" Juturna trailed off. "I don't know who you sound like. I should say that you sound like Turnus or Camilla but the truth is you don't. Turnus would never say anything so… that." She chuckled, although it was a slightly choked chuckle, as though she might have tears in her eyes as she laughed. It was impossible to say from where Pyrrha was sitting. "Turnus would never say he didn't care about the recognition or the glory. I mean, he doesn't care about the money – and after all, it would be really dumb to do this for the money considering how rich we are – sometimes he does pro bono work for villages that can't afford to pay for protection, but he wants you to know, he wants everyone to know that he's doing it. I think he likes the fact that people come to him for help, it makes him feel… I don't know, makes him feel like a lord, I guess? Or perhaps he just likes the fact that some people trust him more than huntsmen. Camilla… actually, I don't know, Camilla might say something like that. She's probably the closest thing to a real hero in this house. Don't get me wrong, I love my brother, and I've known Lausus since we were kids and Nisus is like, really hot, and they're all brave and strong and all the rest of it but Camilla… Camilla is the proper old fashioned real deal. Kind of funny considering that she doesn't come from any kind of a family, right?" she snorted. "But even she, she doesn't fight for people, she fights for us. So congratulations, Ruby Rose, you might just be the most heroic person I know!" she paused. "You don't think I'm a bad person, do you?"

Ruby hesitated. "No," she murmured. "No, I don't. I think you're wrong, but I don't think you're a bad person."

"Thanks, Ruby," Juturna said. "You've got a sister, right?"

"Yeah," Ruby replied. "An older sister, Yang."

"Do you love her?"

"A lot, yeah," Ruby said.

"I love Turnus," Juturna said. "And I love Camilla. And it doesn't matter that they keep tabs on me, or scare off my boyfriends, or don't let me to places, none of that changes the fact that… they're everything to me. They are the we of me, and I just want good things for them. I want all the good things in the world for them. And I don't want to see them die for… I don't want to see them die. I'm allowed to think that, right? I'm allowed to say that? I'm allowed to say 'I do not care as much about you as I do about my brother?' That doesn't make me a bad person, does it?"

"Not as long as you just think it," Ruby said. "And don't try to stop people who feel differently."

"Fat chance of that," Juturna murmured. She groaned. "Ugh, this killed the mood, didn't it? I'm so tired. Is there any way that we can maybe pretend that this was all just a bad dream on my part, or that I was talking nonsense because it's so late where I am and you agree to just forget about it?"

Ruby giggled. "Sure, I can forget it. I didn't catch what you just said, can you repeat it?"

"Better not," Juturna replied. She sighed. "I'm going to let you go, before I say something you won't forget."

"Are you sure?" Ruby asked. "We could play some videogames?"

"Maybe later, call me tomorrow," Juturna said. "Assuming you're not mad at me then."

"What do I have to be mad at you about?" Ruby asked.

"That's the spirit," Juturna muttered. "Night, Ruby, I'm glad you're up."

"Night Juturna," Ruby said. "Sleep well." She hung up.

"That was very kind and understanding of you," Pyrrha said.

"You sound surprised," Ruby said.

"You can be a little… strident, in your views," Sunset pointed out.

"I guess," Ruby said, with a slight wince. "But it's different for Juturna. She's not a huntress, she's not a mercenary like her brother or Camilla, it doesn't matter if she doesn't get what we do because she isn't doing it. If I get mad at you sometimes, Sunset, if I… if I'm loud it's because what we do has real consequences. People can live or die because of it. That's not true for Juturna, so she can think what she wants. I mean, if she started talking like that all the time then I'd have a problem with it, but it's late and she was tired and… it's not how Yang or me reacted after Mom died but I can see how she got that way. I feel sorry for her more than I feel angry. She doesn't… she doesn't really have anything to aim for, to strive for."

"She has her family," Sunset said, "isn't that enough?"

Ruby shook her head. "You can't live on love alone, you need a final goal, something to keep working for. Otherwise… that's how you end up lying awake at night, calling people on the other side of the world."

"Hmm," Sunset murmured, looking down at the remains of the food on her plate.

There was a knock on the dorm room door.

"I'll get it," Sunset said, putting her plate down on the table behind her and getting up off her chair, walking briskly over to the door. She opened it, and then stepped back, her whole body tensing. "Skystar?"

"Hey," Skystar said softly. She was wearing a navy blue parka, which covered her up down to the hem of her purple, knee-length skirt, which was all the rest that could be seen of what she was wearing save for her bare legs and brown boots. She stuck her head around the door. "Hey guys, I hope I'm not interrupting."

She might have been, but after Juturna's interruption it hardly seemed fair or polite to make a fuss about it. "Not at all," Pyrrha said. "Please, come in. Would you like something to eat?"

"Are you sure?" Skystar said, as Sunset retreated to admit her into the dorm room. "I don't want to be a bother."

"There's plenty to go around," Jaune said, with a smile. "I probably made a little too much. I hope you like Mistralian food."

Skystar smiled. "Oh, I do." She walked across the room and sat down beside Ruby on her bed. With one hand, she reached out towards some of the grilled fish. "May I?"

"Please," Jaune said.

"Thank you," Skystar replied, helping herself. "When my family took a trip to Mistral for the Vytal Festival – ooh, is that tarasamalata?"

"It is," Pyrrha confirmed.

"Awesome!" Skystar spooned some of it onto her fish, then ate some, and promptly began to talk with her mouthful. "Yes, when my family took a trip to Mistral for the Vytal Festival, Dad wanted to not just fly to Mistral, but to land on the coast and actually take the long way, really make a trip of it, you know. So, although we flew, we only flew as far as Piraeus on the west coast, and we found this delightful seaside taverna and we ate like the ancients did. Like people have done for hundreds, thousands of years. I think that's part of what's so great about Mistral, even the food has a sense of history to it. And this food is really good, did you cook this yourselves?"

"Jaune did all of the cooking," Pyrrha said, unable to keep a touch of pride out of her voice.

"You're in the wrong job," Skystar said. "But you're in the job you want, so don't mind me." She paused. "I did actually come here for a reason, not just to steal your food."

"What reason?" Sunset asked softly, as she sat down.

"I was thinking about what you said," Skystar said. "About the Vytal Festival, and about giving people a reason to care about it, and about the fact that we need to celebrate in times of trouble."

"You're still taking my advice?" Sunset asked.

"Why shouldn't she?" asked Ruby.

"Well…" Sunset shrugged. "I, uh-"

"Sunset wondered if I'd care, now that my mother has been replaced," Skystar said. "But Councillor Emerald asked me to stay on as Amity Princess, and I still want to make the Vytal Festival a success, for Vale, and for Mom and… and for Dad, too. But we can't just pretend the Breach didn't happen, so I thought that the first step would be to have a proper memorial to honour the dead… and then to have a wake, to celebrate their lives. Because this Vytal Festival is going to be dedicated to them. We're not just celebrating the end of the Great War and the beginnings of the era of peace, we're going to be defying everyone who thought that they could break that peace, and celebrating the fact that we're still here, with the bonds between us as strong as ever. We're going to celebrate the fact that Atlas and Mistral stood with us to defend Vale, and we're going to celebrate the huntsmen and huntresses who protected this city by cheering them on in the tournament. We can't make people forget the Breach but we can show them that it makes the Vytal Festival more important, not less. But first we have to banish our sorrows, and I think we do that by saying goodbye to those we lost – and then celebrating their lives."

"That sounds like a very good idea," Pyrrha said. "But why are you telling us?"

"Because I want you to be there," Skystar said. "Partly, I have to admit, because you're the heroes of the Breach and if you're going it will attract interest, but also because… well, I suppose I wondered if you might need this too." She looked at Sunset. "I can't imagine what it was like for you down there. You're all my age and you've already faced so much, stared death in the face." She looked at Pyrrha, then at Jaune and Ruby. "It makes me kind of ashamed of myself."

"There's no need for that," Pyrrha murmured.

"Not everyone has to be a huntress," Ruby assured her. "Not everyone wants to be and not everyone should be. We each have our own ways of helping people, and being a huntress is just one of them."

Skystar smiled down at her. "I won't ask if it was bad. Partly because if it was really bad you wouldn't want to talk about it but also because… because I kind of know the answer already." She glanced at Sunset again. Had Sunset been talking to her? Pyrrha felt a twinge of jealous irritation that Sunset might confide in Skystar but not in her own teammates.

Perhaps she's afraid that we have enough on our shoulders.

Sunset, you really should know better.

"Anyway, the point is that I think this might help you as much as anyone," Skystar said. "Help you move on."

"That," Sunset said hoarsely, blinking rapidly. "That is very kind of you. That is… very kind. I… I don't know what else to…"

"Sunset's right," Pyrrha said. "It is kind, and a good idea too. I, for one, would be honoured to attend."

"Me too," Jaune said.

"And me," Ruby added.

Sunset gave a silent nod of her head.

Skystar smiled, and as she helped herself to some of the moussaka Pyrrha couldn't help ponder one question: what did she know that they didn't?

 

[ScipioSmith]

Pro Bono​

The office of Turnus Rutulus was vaguely modelled after that of Mister Schnee in Atlas; on the back wall, there hung a large portrait of Turnus' late father, wearing the green dress uniform of the Commissioner of the Imperial Police, seeming to look down on Turnus as he sat at his desk.

He could feel his father's eyes on the back of his neck as he worked; it kept him honest, in his human dealings, if not financially.

The room was almost fully enclosed, with only very small windows near the ceiling admitting any kind of natural light, most of the light coming from the chandelier that hung from the centre of the ceiling. One wall was completely covered in book shelves lined with books, many of which Turnus had not, admittedly, gotten around to reading yet, while on the other wall hung his spear, his sword, his father's dress sword in its ceremonial scabbard, his great grandfather's pearl-handled duelling pistols, and an antique rifle of Great War vintage that he had acquired at auction.

A tiger-striped rug — not a tiger skin, although some visitors made that mistake; in actual fact, Turnus donated to conservation efforts — sat on the floor.

Turnus himself sat behind his desk, which was a sturdy affair of ancient oak. Family photographs sat upon the desk: his father and himself standing on either side of his mother, who was looking very tired and wan, but endeavouring to smile nonetheless, as she cradled the infant Juturna in her arms; Juturna sitting on their father's lap while Turnus and Camilla stood on either side of him — you could see Turnus reaching out to hold Camilla in place as she kept trying to sidle out of view of the camera, unsure that she deserved to be there; a photograph that Father had taken of the three of them on one of their camping trips, seated around the fire; a more recent picture of the three of them at Juturna's sixteenth birthday party, where Juturna wore one of Mother's tiaras and Camilla wore a blood red dress; the only picture that did not feature Juturna in some way was the company photograph of Turnus in the midst of his men, armed, ready, and eager.

They were a reminder of what he worked for — even the picture that also reminded him of what he had to work with.

Right now, however, he had a different kind of work to do.

Turnus switched on the computer on his desk; the holographic screen stirred to life, and for a moment, Turnus was treated to a reflection of his own face, blue eyes and black hair streaked with red, before the light green default screen obscured the sight.

Turnus checked the time; it would hardly do to call Cala up at an unsociable hour for her, but thankfully, it would not be so in Atlas.

And so he called her, settling back a little in his chair as he waited for her to respond. He did not have to wait too long before he got a response, and the face of Cala appeared on his screen.

Cala Ferny-Brown was a woman exiting her youth, although new motherhood probably had more to do with the bags under her hazel eyes than any set number of years; her hair was calico, and it fell in gentle curls around her round face.

Cala's sister had been his commander during the brief time when he had worked for SDC Security, and Cala herself was a mid-level executive within the Schnee Dust Company; she was not that much older than he was, but she had seemed to feel the need to mother him while he was in Atlas — all the more so when she found out that his mother was dead — with invitations to dinner and offers of a place to stay and the like.

He had been in Atlas when he got the news that his father had been murdered, and Cala had stayed up all night with him, sharing wine and listening to him ramble on about his family.

Turnus had kept in touch after returning home to Mistral, partly because a contact in the SDC was useful to him, but also simply because of her kindness, which did not deserve to be forgotten.

"Turnus!" she said, smiling at him. "Hey!"

Turnus smiled. "Good morning, Cala. I hope I didn't interrupt breakfast."

"No, just the washing up," she said. "How are things? How's Juturna?"

"Juturna is Juturna, as always," Turnus said. "Things are … well enough, all things considered."

"That sounds qualified," Cala said.

"Nothing to concern you with," Turnus said. "I'm well, my family is well, Mistral is complicated, but then, it almost always is. How about you?"

"Do I look exhausted?" Cala asked.

"A little, yes."

"Then I look how I feel, except maybe worse if I only look a little exhausted," Call grumbled.

Turnus chuckled. "Your daughter is keeping you up."

"I hope I didn't scream this much when I was a baby, or I'll have to apologise to my parents," Cala said. "Calliope swears she never cried at all."

"From her, I could believe that," Turnus replied. "Still, her little namesake is healthy, I trust?"

"I'd hope so, with those lungs," Cala said. "Still, I've managed to get her to sleep for the moment; I just hope she doesn't wake up for a little while."

"But you're happy?" Turnus said.

Cala laughed softly. "Sometimes, it's a dream come true; sometimes, it's a lot of work; and I wouldn't trade it for anything." She beamed. "All this, you've got to look forward to."

"Steady on," Turnus replied. "I should probably get a wife before I start thinking about children."

"That might be easier if you actually went out and tried seeing people," Cala informed him. "Don't you think there's something very old-fashioned about a political marriage?"

"This is an old-fashioned city," Turnus reminded. "Mistral is not Atlas."

"I remember you used to complain that Mistral could stand to be more like Atlas," Cala reminded him.

"And I still believe that," Turnus said. "However, I doubt that Mister Schnee will allow his children to simply marry anyone they set their eyes upon; he will ensure proper unions to men and women of quality which will strengthen his family; as the head of my house, it falls to me to do the same."

"So … what?" Cala asked. "You're going to corral some Atlesian heiress to marry you, trading her daddy's money for a Mistralian title?"

"I … have my sights set a little closer to home," Turnus said.

"Is that how your parents married?" inquired Cala.

Turnus sighed. "My father was … an unconventional man, in some respects."

"But they were happy, weren't they?" Cala said. "You told me that."

"They were very happy, yes, in the time that was allowed to them," Turnus murmured, glancing at the picture of his mother on his desk; it was not a particularly good picture of her, but none of the other pictures of Mother had Juturna in them, and he didn't want her to get the wrong idea. "But there are times when we must look beyond our own happiness and think of the good of the family, and of Mistral."

"If you say so," Cala said. "But I'll stop mothering you for now, since I'm sure you didn't call in order for me to dictate your love life to you."

"I would be happy to hear more of it," Turnus assured her. "But yes, this is a business call. I'm looking to buy some androids."

Cala frowned slightly. "You know, you could just call our sales hotline for that."

"I'm looking to buy a lot of androids."

"A bold new direction for your security business?"

"No, this isn't for me; it's for Mistral," Turnus said. "The Council has decided to start taking the security of this city seriously and has asked me to deal with the purchase, since I have contacts." He smiled.

Cala snorted. "I'm delighted to be the instrument of your political rise."

Turnus chuckled. "Cala, I'm sure this transaction will be profitable for both of us."

"I hope so," Cala said. "But why is the Mistral Council looking to buy combat androids? Mistral doesn't even have an army."

"That may be changing soon too, thanks to events in Vale," Turnus said.

"The Breach, of course," Cala murmured. "I could hardly believe it when I saw it on the news. Can you imagine grimm getting into your city?"

"You'd be alright; you live on a floating city," Turnus pointed out.

"And some grimm fly," Cala said. "You know, I have sometimes complained about how much of my paycheck the government takes in taxes, but when I watched the news about what was happening in Vale, and then I went to the window and I saw a cruiser hovering in the sky outside … it made me feel a hell of a lot better."

Turnus was silent for a moment. "You … you're very lucky," he said softly.

"Did I also come off as really insensitive?" Cala asked.

"No," Turnus said immediately. "But … where were you, when it happened?"

"At work," Cala said. "Not that we ended up getting much work done; everyone in the office was just watching the news or checking up on people they knew in Vale."

"That was largely what happened here as well," Turnus said. "Myself, Camilla, Lausus, Mezentius, all my people crowded into the sitting room watching TV. The Valish were very lucky that General Ironwood was there, and all his forces too. Without them … I couldn't sleep that night."

"No?"

"No," Turnus confirmed. "I got up, and I walked down the corridor to Juturna's room, and I found Camilla sleeping in front of the door, like she used to when we were children, before Father put a stop to it."

"Sounds cute," Cala said. "What did you do?"

I laid a blanket over Camilla, then sat down beside her and brooded on how this kingdom needs better leadership and a new direction. "I let them sleep," Turnus said. "But the point is that, for eighty years since the Great War, this country has had its head in the clouds when it comes to security. We cannot afford to rely on a comparative handful of huntsmen to defend even a city as large as ours, let alone the rest of our territory."

And the worst part was that everyone knew exactly why Mistral had reached this point. Before the Great War, even though to raise a great army required a levy of the Emperor's subjects, military muscle for more everyday purposes had been provided by the great houses, each of whom retained a retinue of armed men at their own expense, but who could be commanded to contribute that retinue to the common defence — or the common attack — by the Emperor, in the event that the Emperor's own retainers proved insufficient to the task. Most of the time, such an army, a retinue of retinues, was able to provide all the strength required to defend Mistral without the need for a general levy. But, for all that they claimed to have saved Mistral from the faunus after the Revolution, the House of Thrax did not enjoy the same legitimacy that the House of Nikos had done when they sat the throne; stewards did not sit so easily upon the highest seat as emperors had done. The stewards did not feel safe with large numbers of armed men in the service of rival houses.

Turnus had to keep his own forces fairly small - and fairly weak, at that, without any spider droids or other purchased Atlesian firepower - or he would draw the wrath of the stewards upon him.

Not that he would object to seizing the reins of power himself — he felt as if he could hardly do a worse job, and gods knew that this kingdom needed someone to shake it up, ideally someone who understood that what they really needed to do was look north for inspiration to Atlas, which had undoubtedly made a success of itself following the Great War in ways that Mistral had not — but there were two very good reasons not to do it.

The first was the purely pragmatic reason: anyone who overthrew the stewards and seized power by force would have an even bigger legitimacy problem than the House of Thrax; it would be a declaration that power was to be held not through right, or even by election, but by the point of a sword, and that would be chaos.

The other reason, in some ways an even more important reason, was the very reason why he could do it: all those men and women in the last picture on his desk. Rutulian Security was not a vast organisation, with some forty men here in the city and about the same again in various provincial sub-offices for assignments out of range of Mistral, but they were well-trained, well-equipped, and very brave. Lausus, Mezentius, Nisus, Euryalus, Ufens, Murranus, they would all do anything he asked of them, anything at all, even overthrow the government.

Which was, paradoxically, even more reason for him not to do it. They placed their lives in his hands, and that laid upon him an obligation to take care of them. The fact that they would die for him if he asked it meant that he had to do everything he could to preserve their lives.

And that was before one considered what his pursuit of his ambitions might do to Juturna.

No, he was not the sort of man to carry out a coup.

Although it had occurred to him that if things got much worse, then he might find the situation fertile grounds for a change in the way that Mistral was governed without the need for civil violence.

It had also occurred to him that if things got much worse, he — along with everyone else — might have bigger problems than his own advancement or a disagreement with some of the Council's policy decisions.

Which was why he was buying androids to defend Mistral and why he hoped that the Council adopted Lady Ming and Ms. Yeoh's militarization proposals. Yes, it was not the old way, and he would rather that the old liberty had been given to raise forces without suspicion, but more defences for Mistral, of any kind, were always a good thing.

"I can't really argue with that," Cala said. "So, I take it that, since you're buying on behalf of Mistral, your pockets are basically bottomless, yes?"

Turnus raised his eyebrows. "Are you planning to overcharge me, Cala?"

Cala laughed lightly. "No. It's more that … I probably shouldn't be selling you this, because our contract with the military stipulates that we shouldn't be selling them to third party clients until we've completed the military rollout, but as we're friends, I could get you some of our AK-200 Knight models."

Turnus leaned forwards. "New models? Are they an improvement on the 130?"

"I'm not a military person or a security expert, but my loyalty to the company demands that I answer 'yes,'" Cala said. "For what it's worth, the military is adopting them; they're being rolled out to all units and bases even as we speak; the older models are being put on the scrap heap. But I can always send you some promotional literature, if you like?"

"Thank you, but I think I would be remiss not to take the opportunity to get the latest technology for Mistral," Turnus said. "Are you sure you won't get in trouble for this?"

"I don't see how the military would actually find out about it," Cala said. "And Mister Schnee isn't likely to object to a sale. For a large order, I might even get a bonus."

"Speaking of which, I don't suppose there are any additional prizes you could throw in, besides these Knights?" Turnus said. "You know, as we're friends."

"Well, as you know, our spider droids come in a large variety of customisable options with different weapons systems mounted—"

"Is there a new version of them in production?" Turnus asked.

"No," Cala said. "But perhaps I might, just might, be able to get you some automated models of our other military co-production, the AP-290 Paladin."

She reached forwards and must have tapped some buttons on her screen, because her image shrank as one corner of Turnus' screen became taken up with an image of a bipedal mech, solidly built, with a large, boxy cockpit — or body, since Cala had mentioned it was automated — and two relatively spindly arms that seemed to have modular weapons systems built into them.

"Impressive," Turnus said. "How much money per unit are we talking about?"

"For the Knights, we're planning to retail them privately at four thousand lien a unit," Cala said. "That includes a rifle for each android, but ammunition sold separately."

"Not bad," Turnus said. "Not bad at all. Put … twenty magazines per android on the invoice as well. As for the price of the knights … What say we make it forty-one hundred a unit to the Mistral Council, and you and I split the excess?"

Cala gasped. "That's—"

"The way that business is done in Mistral," Turnus informed her. "You could buy yourself something nice, take a holiday — Mistral is a very pleasant place to visit any time of year, and I'd love to have your family as my guests. And you won't have defrauded the SDC out of a single lien."

"You'll have defrauded the Council," Cala pointed out.

"If anyone finds out, I shall say that I had to pay extra to get early access," Turnus said.

Cala frowned slightly. "Fifty-fifty split?"

"Call it sixty-forty, in your favour," Turnus said genially. "And put us down for … five thousand Knights, and I'll get back to you with how many spider droids and Paladins we require."

"Five thousand?"

"Our need is great," Turnus said.

"You might have to accept delivery in instalments," Cala said. "Those volumes … we can't slow down the military deliveries enough that it's noticeable. It won't matter how many sales I've brought in if I get the SDC sued for breach of contract."

"Instalments will be fine, I'm sure," Turnus said. "We have survived this long; I'm sure that we can make it a little longer."

"Okay then," Cala said. "I will process that order and wait for your details on the—"

She was interrupted by the sound of a baby crying somewhere else in the house.

Cala sighed. "I have to go. I'll process your order when I've got her back to sleep, okay?"

Turnus chuckled. "Of course. This was a pleasure."

"Same here," Cala said. "Speak again soon!" She hung up.

Turnus sat back in his chair. That wasn't bad for a morning's work, was it?

He was about to get up and go down to the kitchen for some breakfast when his screen flashed with an indicator of an incoming call. The number belonged to Countess Coloratura, a singer and the vanguard of the Atlesian invasion that was taking over the Mistral music scene. Atlesian popstars were big in Mistral at the moment — Weiss Schnee was almost as popular as Pyrrha Nikos, and Sapphire Shores had sold out the Colosseum when she played there during her Anima tour — but Countess Coloratura had taken things one step further by actually staying in Mistral, finding it a more congenial home than her native Atlas. It had been interesting to watch her style evolve over the two years that she'd been here, combining her Atlesian techno-pop aesthetic with more traditional Mistralian music and rhythm.

He answered the call and was greeted by the pretty face of the Countess herself. Her hair was a lilac so pale that it was almost — but not quite — white, with a streak of deep purple running down it, and so long that, even bound in a ponytail, it reached down to her ankles. Her eyes were a brilliant opal and accentuated with heavy eyeshadow. She was wearing several necklaces, including a set of opals upon a black choker.

Turnus bowed his head. "My lady."

Coloratura laughed. "Turnus, please. We both know that that is just a stage name."

"But an apropos one, in this city," Turnus said.

"Well, it was a good choice by Svengallop," Coloratura conceded. "Anyway, how are you? How's Juturna?"

"Well and very well; she's looking forward to your next concert," Turnus said. "And yourself?"

Coloratura winced. "I've been better. To be honest, this isn't a social call."

"You need security?" Turnus asked.

Coloratura hesitated for a moment. "I've been … getting these messages. There are always fans who get a bit obsessive; most of them are harmless, but these … these ones were really creepy. And I've been getting these flowers with no name or address, and … the last messages I got last night … he described the bathing suit that I wore in the pool the night before."

"Have you spoken to the police?" Turnus asked.

"Yes, but they say there isn't much to go on," Coloratura said. "I just want someone around I can rely on."

"Of course," Turnus said. "I'll send a couple of my best people around right away."

Coloratura sighed with relief. "Thank you. I feel safer already. And don't worry about the cost; whatever it is, I can pay it."

"I know, but I don't want you to worry about that either; I'll send you the bill once the matter's been settled," Turnus said. "Just sit tight for now, lock the doors; my people will be there soon."

"Thanks, Turnus," Coloratura said. "I knew I could count on you."

Turnus hung up, and now he did get up from his chair and walk briskly out of his study.

The House of Rutulus was a fairly typical Mistralian mansion, if a little less populated in terms of servants; an android was dusting one of the antique vases in the corridor beyond the study door, because while Turnus kept plenty of men under arms, he did not also maintain a large staff to cook his meals or clean his home — apart from anything else, the servants' quarters now housed his troops. Turnus walked past the android without acknowledging it and reached one of the back staircases, descending down to the old servants' quarters on the ground floor.

"Opis?" Turnus called, as he walked down the corridor. "Falco?"

"Yes, my lord?" Opis was the first to answer, emerging from out of her room in response to his call. She was a tall woman of about Turnus' own age, with a rangy build and jet black hair combed over onto the left-hand side of her face. Her ears were covered in piercings — there was one in her nose as well — and her arms in dark tattoos that swirled around her skin.

"You called, my lord?" Falco murmured as he came out of the break room. He was an older man, his dark hair turning grey and his skin giving way to wrinkles, yet his dark brown eyes were as sharp as ever. He was almost unique amongst the Rutulians in that he was not, first and foremost, a warrior; rather, he was an ex-detective that Turnus employed for his investigative skills.

"Yes, I did, for both of you," Turnus said. "Some freak is harassing Coloratura, and she has requested our protection. So, Opis, I want you to take Lyce and get yourselves down to her house immediately and guard her until the matter is concluded."

Opis raised one eyebrow. "Two people to guard against one deranged fan, my lord?"

"She's a valued client," Turnus said. "And a friend. And we have a reputation for going above and beyond. Which is why, Falco, I want you to speak to Countess Coloratura, look at the evidence and see if you can find out who is disturbing her. Get Cadmilus to help you with the computer side of things if you need it. The police are looking into this as well, but if we can close the case for them, it will be a feather in our caps — and the quicker we put this to bed, the happier I and Coloratura will be."

Falco bowed his head. "Of course, my lord."

"As you will, my lord," Opis said. "We'll leave as soon as we are armed."

"Good luck," Turnus said.

Opis smirked. "Don't need luck for this, my lord, but thank you anyway."

His orders thus given, Turnus made his way to the family kitchen on the ground floor. It was a private space, a room that he had remodelled in the Atlesian fashion, somewhere he could eat on his own or with his family without the absurdity of sitting in the cavernous dining hall. The walls were covered in tiles of a cool blue, the floor was pristine and white, and the worksurfaces and the top of the central island were all a sleek, modern black.

Camilla was already there, sitting at the central island, dressed in a white robe, with a glass of grapefruit juice and a bowl of fruit and yogurt sitting in front of her.

"Good morning," Turnus said, as he walked in.

Camilla smiled at him. "Morning," she said softly, taking a sip from her glass of juice. "How did it go with Cala?"

"Very well," Turnus said, walking to the drinks cooler and opening it up to pull out a carton of orange juice. "The SDC is rolling out a new model of android."

"Indeed?" Camilla murmured. "Are they for sale?"

"They are if you're friends with an executive at the SDC," Turnus replied as he opened the white door of a cupboard above his head and got himself a glass. "I think that, when the order is completed, Mistral will be pleased with what I've acquired for it."

"And yet, still only androids," Camilla said softly.

"I know what you mean," Turnus muttered, pouring himself a glass of juice and putting the cartoon back in the cooler. He turned around to face Camilla, seated on the other side of the island from himself, holding the glass of cool juice in his hand. "Hardly a substitute for a trained man with their aura unlocked. And yet, in numbers … let's face it, anything would be better than what we have now."

Camilla blinked, her vulpine ears drooping a little. "You're right, of course." Her brow furrowed. "We should not be selling those warships to the Valish. At least not until we have taken delivery of whatever we mean to replace them with."

"Hmm," Turnus murmured. "But then, Lord Diomedes and the Council have never prioritised the defence of this kingdom over other considerations, so why expect them to start now?"

Camilla was silent for a moment. "Have you ever thought about running for the Council yourself?"

Turnus snorted. "Me? Stand for the Council?"

"Other lords and ladies have and do," Camilla pointed out. "Lady Ming serves; Lady Nikos served at one time."

"I don't know how they stand or stood it," Turnus said. "You would have me go around grubbing for votes, making promises that I couldn't keep even if I wanted to?"

"You are a good man," Camilla said. "This kingdom needs good men."

"This kingdom has relied on good men for too long," Turnus declared. "Good men like my father, struggling to do what is right for Mistral in spite of everything. And what was his reward? What is the reward for good men? Death, to be used up and spat out without regard or regret. I say again, Mistral has relied on good men to paper over its weaknesses for too long; we need better systems now, and we need leadership."

"Where will this leadership come if men like you refuse to provide it?" Camilla asked.

Turnus was silent for a moment. "Is this really what you think I should do?"

"It is not for me to tell you what you should or should not do," Camilla said quietly. "But you will make no change by complaining to me, however much I agree with you."

"You have a point," Turnus conceded. "But politics is not for me." He drank some of his juice. It was cold and just a little tangy. "Perhaps I will put Lausus up for the Council, if he is amenable."

"Hey, guys," Juturna said, as she walked into the room wearing a Weiss Schnee-branded t-shirt and a pair of black leather pants. "What…" She yawned, raising her arms up into the air. "What's up?"

"Good morning," Camilla greeted her. "Did you sleep well?"

"Not really," Juturna grumbled as she walked around the island to a cupboard on the far side of the kitchen. She tried, but failed, to reach for one of the cupboards. She turned around to give Turnus an exasperated gaze. "You had this place remodelled. It's not as if this room has been like this for five hundred years or something; you made it this way, so would it have killed you to remember that we aren't all six foot something freaks like you two?"

Camilla started to get up. "Do you want me to—?"

"No," Juturna said firmly. "No, I'll get it." She grabbed a stool from the island and carried it across the kitchenette, standing on it to reach the unit above that had eluded her before.

Turnus smirked. "Perhaps I just like watching you struggle a little bit?"

"Best big brother ever," Juturna muttered, grabbing a box of Pumpkin Pete's Marshmallow Flakes and hopping down off the stool. She ostentatiously looked at the picture of Pyrrha on the box. "Hey, look who it is, bro: it's the girl who chose some Valish nobody over you!"

Turnus growled wordlessly. Juturna stuck out her tongue at him.

"Aren't you a little old to be eating that?" Camilla said. "It isn't even as if it's very good for you."

"I like it," Juturna said, carrying the stool back to the island and sitting down next to Camilla. She looked down. "I forgot the bowl, didn't I?"

"I'll get it," Camilla said, rising to her feet and walking briskly across the kitchenette to fetch both bowl and spoon from out of the cupboards.

"Do you want anything to drink?" Turnus asked.

"I could do with some black coffee," Juturna muttered.

"I see," Turnus said, although the first thing he did was get the milk out of the refrigerator — it wasn't far from the drinks cooler — and put it down on the island in front of Juturna.

"Thank you," Juturna said softly as she filled the bowl Camilla had brought her with the sugary cereal and then poured the milk over it.

Turnus put the milk back in the fridge. "Coloratura called," he announced.

Juturna said something with her mouth full, said full mouth rendering it incomprehensible.

"Swallow and say that again," Turnus said.

Juturna rolled her eyes, but swallowed. "What did she want?"

"She's been having trouble with a fan," Turnus explained. "I sent Opis and Lyce to protect her, and Falco to try and hunt down the fan in question."

"Will two people be enough?" Juturna asked. "Maybe Camilla should—"

"Opis and Lyce are more than capable," Turnus assured her. "We're not talking about a terrorist, after all, just some obsessed loser with no sense of boundaries. If they try anything, then Opis will take care of it, assuming Falco doesn't find them first."

"I hope so," Juturna said. "She doesn't deserve anything to happen to her."

"I agree, that's why I put Opis on it," Turnus said.

Juturna ate a little more cereal, her blue eyes glancing at the box of cereal and Pyrrha's picture on it. "So, speaking of obsessed losers—"

"Juturna," Camilla murmured reproachfully.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Juturna said, holding up her free hand. "But what are you going to do about this guy?"

Turnus was silent while he busied himself with Juturna's coffee. Only when the water was beginning to boil in the kettle did he turn back to her and said, "That depends."

"Depends on what?" Juturna asked.

"Whether she brings him back here or not," Turnus replied.

"Are you going to kill him?" asked Juturna. "Because, you know, somehow, I don't think you murdering her boyfriend is going to be the way to win Pyrrha's heart."

"I have never killed anyone who did not give me cause," Turnus growled.

"I'm not judging!" Juturna cried. "I'm just saying, she won't appreciate it. If you want to know what I think: you should get over it. I mean, look at her; she's not even that good-looking."

"She is reputed the fairest beauty in Mistral," Camilla murmured.

"By who?" Juturna demanded. "People with no taste, that's who. By them. I mean, look at her. Green eyes! Green eyes are so overrated, honestly; it's insane. Now, red- aagh! What did you kick me for?"

"I'm sorry," Camilla said. "My foot slipped. I hope I didn't hurt you."

Turnus poured Juturna her coffee and began to stir it as he said, "Pyrrha's beauty, or otherwise, is not the issue, although I happen to agree with the majority opinion; she is fair to look on. More to the point, she has an old name, the oldest name; she is the last heir to a prestigious family."

"And that will make you more important," Juturna said.

Turnus carried her coffee over to her. "When I marry her—"

"Don't you mean 'if'?" Juturna asked.

"Her mother gave me promise of her hand, whatever she might say now," Turnus declared. "When I marry her, our children will have claim to the throne of Mistral itself. They will inherit the wealthiest and most powerful family in the whole kingdom, without doubt."

"Mom and Dad didn't care about any of that stuff," Juturna said. "I may not have known Mom, but I know that Dad didn't marry her because of what her last name was or how strong it would make the family."

"Father had that luxury because of those who came before him who did think about how to strengthen the family, how to ensure its prosperity and success, and who passed down the fruits of that success to those who came after," Turnus declared.

"But will you be happy?" Juturna demanded.

Turnus was silent for a moment. It was not a question he had really considered. "It … it doesn't matter. I don't wish to discuss it anymore." His eyes narrowed. "Isn't that what you were wearing yesterday?"

"Yeah," Juturna admitted sheepishly. "And I slept in it too. Or didn't sleep in it. Tried to sleep in it. Lay awake in bed in it. You know what I mean."

"It smells like it too," Camilla whispered, wrinkling her nose.

"I'm going to get a shower, after I've eaten," Juturna said defensively.

Turnus sat down. "So, why couldn't you sleep last night?"

"I don't know," Juturna said. "Just one of those nights, I guess. I called Ruby, because I was bored, but…"

"But what?" Turnus asked.

"Is she awake?" asked Camilla. "The word I had from Lady Nikos—"

"Yeah, she's awake," Juturna said. "She seemed fine. She's better from … whatever it was that happened to her. But…"

Camilla reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "Did something happen?"

"We kind of had a fight but not really," Juturna said. "It's a little hard to explain." She frowned. "Why do you two risk your lives?"

Turnus glanced at Camilla. "You mean in the field?"

Juturna nodded. "All these people, these villagers or whatever, you don't know them, you don't owe them anything, but you could get killed for them, either of you could, or Lausus could, or anyone. So why do you do it?"

"Is that what you argued with Ruby about?" asked Camilla.

Juturna shrugged. "I told her they weren't worth it," she admitted. "That people… that they weren't worth dying for. She got … kind of upset and told me I was awful, and then she told me that she didn't care about recognition or glory or anything else; she just wanted to save lives, even though the lives she'd save wouldn't care about her." She paused. "Am I a bad person?"

"No," Turnus and Camilla both said at once. They looked at each other, and a slight, soft smile graced Camilla's face.

"No," Camilla repeated, getting down off her stool and moving closer to Juturna so that she could put her arms around her, embracing her from the side. "No, Juturna, you are not a bad person."

Juturna glanced at her. "But you get what she meant, don't you? When Ruby was talking, I told her it sounded like something you might say."

Camilla gave a sort of hollow chuckle, and a touch of red coloured her pale cheeks. "You flatter me," she said. "But I … no, I would not say something like that. I…" Her ears drooped down, disappearing into her snow white hair. "For all the good fortune with which I have been blessed since, I cannot forget that I was put in a cage to be sold like an animal, and would have been, if not for your father." She smiled. "Just as I cannot forget that you held out your hand to a frightened faunus girl who had no business in a great house such as this and made her welcome in your home. And that is how I know that you are not a bad person." She paused for a moment. "But it also means that I … I would not speak as Ruby did to you. Whether it is naïveté or nobility on her part, I know not, but I would not, could not give my life so easily for the people. I would die for this family, for my comrades, for the commands I had been given … I hope I would give my life to save a child in danger if I saw her, but 'the people' … they are too nebulous a concept for me to declare that they are all worth my life."

"And yet you would have me serve them," Turnus said, a touch of amusement entering his voice.

"'Serve them'?" Juturna asked.

"Camilla thinks I should go into politics," Turnus explained.

"I do not think you should, if you don't want to," Camilla replied. "But…" One pale hand rose and started to play with her long white hair. "You have a vision for this kingdom, and that being so, I merely suggested that perhaps you should let Mistral hear that vision, for you will bring no change sharing your thoughts with us around this breakfast table."

Juturna grinned. "Is that right? You want to rule Mistral?"

"It isn't about what I want," Turnus declared. "This is about this kingdom, this kingdom that needs leadership! Things cannot go on as they have done; we cannot keep papering over the cracks. Camilla drove crime back down into the lower slopes of the city, but it festers there, untamed and unregarded; how long until it dares to creep back up into the light once more? In a generation's time? Less? When the memory of the lesson that Camilla taught them is forgotten? Our Steward and his Council claim to govern the largest kingdom in Remnant, but they cannot even honestly say that they control the entire city!

"We have a city that is ungovernable, a kingdom that is defenceless, and a Council of self-interested pygmies whose only concern is their own aggrandisement. It cannot endure." Turnus let out a deep breath. "I am not filled with nostalgia. I am well aware that in the old days of Empire, Camilla would not have been allowed to sit here with us. I am aware that in that respect, at least, things have improved, but that does not mean that we should have to settle for this … this mediocrity, at best. It sometimes feels as though the Council has no greater ambition than to manage the decline of this once-great kingdom, and it is not good enough. A change must come."

"Come from where?" Camilla asked.

Turnus let out a sort of laugh. "Yes, I'm aware. I talk about the need for leadership, and yet, I will not step forward to provide any. But you know why. You both know why. We in this family know as well as anyone the fate of good men in a bad system. I have vision, you say—"

"And I say also that you would be a better man than many who sit upon the Council," Camilla declared.

"And I thank you for that, but it will not happen."

"But you want it," Juturna said. "Don't you?"

Turnus hesitated for a moment. "I want … I want many things," he said. He grinned. "I'd quite like to see you do something for one thing."

Juturna rolled her eyes. "Come on, don't tell me that I need to do something. Why? Why should I think of doing something? I'm rich, I have an enviable social position, I don't need to do anything. Are you going to cut me off if I don't get a job?"

"No, of course not," Turnus said. "I just think—"

"My lord," Lausus said as he appeared in the doorway. A young man about Turnus' age, he was dressed in a gold tunic that was getting a little short for his gangly frame. "My lord, sorry to disturb you, but there's a man at the gate who wishes to speak with you. Says it's about a job."

Turnus got to his feet. "What kind of man?"

"A village peasant by the look of him, but he's very insistent."

"Very well," Turnus said. "Have him brought into the drawing room. Camilla, come with me."

XxXxX​

The man who had come to their gate was in his middle age at least, with grey streaks in his dark hair and a face that was tanned by the sun and weathered by the years. His clothes were plain, homespun in earthy tones, and worn by time spent on the road.

"You look weary from your travels," Turnus observed as he sat down in the armchair opposite the fellow. Camilla stood by his side. "Would you care for any refreshment? Some coffee, perhaps, or wine if it is more to your taste?"

"No, my lord, thank you," the man replied.

"To business then," Turnus said. "What brings you to my door?"

The fellow glanced down at his hands. "My lord, my name is Fuscus, and I have come from the village of Ardea, to the north of here. Not far from us lies the village of Evanteum … or I should say that Evanteum used to lie not far from us, for it has been destroyed."

"By who?" Camilla asked. "Grimm or bandits?"

"Bandits, we believe," Fuscus replied. "Those who have been bold enough to venture to the ruins of Evanteum say that … there were wounds amongst the dead made by blades and bullets, not by teeth and claws."

"I see," Turnus murmured. "And you fear your village may be next to feel their wrath?"

"It is hard to see any reason why they would spare us, my lord," Fuscus said. "Evanteum hired a huntsman to protect them, much good though it did them, but we have heard in town that when someone hires Rutulian Security, they often receive more than one man, and so we in town pooled all the lien we could spare, and I volunteered to make my way to Mistral and beg you, my lord, to come to our aid, for without it, I fear that we have no hope." He reached for the satchel he was wearing on his hip and poured a flood of lien cards out onto the little table that sat between Turnus and himself. "It is little enough, I know, my lord, but I pray it will be enough for a few men at least."

Turnus looked at it. It was a paltry sum, all told; it made a nice-looking pile, but it was all in very small value money cards; if it reached three figures, he would be very surprised.

Suffice to say, it was not the kind of price he would normally charge for a job like this.

But…

"You say that Evanteum was destroyed?" he asked. "No survivors?"

Fuscus shook his head. "No, my lord."

Turnus nodded. He glanced up at Camilla. She too nodded, as though she could read his thoughts.

"You may keep your lien," he declared. "I think you probably have need of it, if this is all that you can spare. We of Rutulian Security will take your case, but we do so pro bono, without charge."

Fuscus eyes widened. "My lord, this … are you certain?"

"I am," Turnus said. "Camilla, muster the men and get the airships fuelled up."

"At once, my lord," Camilla said, bowing her head.

"Airships? Men?" Fuscus repeated. "My lord … how many men will you send to aid us?"

"All of them, good man," Turnus said, leaning forward. "All that I can spare."