SAPR: Interlude 2 - Vale

[ScipioSmith]

The Tale of Summer Rose​

There was a chair in front of Professor Ozpin's desk again. Ruby wondered if he kept it in a cupboard somewhere and brought it out when he wanted people to take their time.

Except she couldn't see a cupboard. He must bring it up from somewhere. She wondered if anyone ever saw the headmaster carrying the chair to the elevator?

"Please sit down, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin said from his own seat on the other side of his glass desk. He gestured at the empty chair before him.

"Right," Ruby squeaked. "Thank you, Professor," she added, moving quickly across the office, the shadows cast by the gears above falling temporarily upon her face and on the red cloak that trailed after her, before she took the seat that had been offered to her. As she sat down, she added, "I mean that; thank you."

Professor Ozpin's smile was sad; it didn't reach his eyes except to strain them, or so it seemed to her. "You owe me no thanks, Miss Rose," he murmured. "No thanks at all."

"That's not true," Ruby insisted. "What you're about to tell me … no one will tell me, not Dad, not Uncle Qrow—"

"Your father and uncle—"

"Don't say they're trying to protect me," Ruby asked. "Please, don't say that. I … I don't want to be protected, Professor. I want to know the truth."

"The truth can be a bitter draught, Miss Rose, as often as it can be a sweet treat," Professor Ozpin remarked. "Speaking of which, would you care for a cup of hot cocoa?"

He gestured at the pot sitting on his desk; along with a pair of Beacon mugs, it was the only thing upon the transparent tabletop.

Ruby hesitated for a moment. "Okay, thank you, Professor."

Professor Ozpin smiled at her and got to his feet, back stooped a little, to pick up the white china pot and pour the steaming hot, thickly-textured liquid into the two mugs. He picked up one cup, the axes of Beacon worked in black facing Ruby as he offered it to her.

Ruby took the cup, feeling the heat of the drink within even through the china. She raised it to her lips, blew on it, and took the slightest sip from within. It was hot, but not as tongue-burningly so as she had feared. Reflexively, Ruby wiped the droplets dribbling down the side of the cup away with one thumb. Her brow furrowed slightly as she swallowed; the hot chocolate had a very milky consistency, and it tasted not just of chocolate, but off… "Is this mint flavour?"

Professor Ozpin nodded. "Nobody ever said I just had to drink ordinary hot cocoa," he told her. "Although I must confess that some of the more … interesting flavours offered by the manufacturer leave me scratching my head. I'm sure that someone, somewhere, enjoys Banoffee Pie flavoured hot chocolate, or even Pina Colada, but I'm not sure I can imagine who that might be."

Ruby's silver eyes narrowed. "Is that a real thing, Professor?"

"I'm afraid it is," Professor Ozpin informed her. "I must admit, it does make the fact that they've cancelled my favourite flavour a little irksome. On the other hand, this mint flavour is one I wish I'd tried sooner."

Ruby took another sip, longer this time, "It is really good," she agreed.

"I think so," Professor Ozpin said. "I shall have to order some more of it." He paused for a moment. "If it seems to you as though I'm stalling, Miss Rose, that is … in part because I am. I promised you that we would talk of your mother once your mission to Mountain Glenn was concluded, and then … I apologise that it has taken this long."

"It's okay, Professor," Ruby assured him. "I know that you've been busy. I know that things have been pretty hectic around here since the Breach, and with the Vytal Festival … I know you've got a lot to do." Now it was her turn to hesitate. "I … I feel as though I should apologise."

Ozpin frowned. "Apologise for what, Miss Rose?"

"For letting things get this way," Ruby said. "For letting the Breach happen. We screwed up, didn't we?"

Ozpin drank from his mug of hot chocolate, letting the act extend the silence outwards. He put down the mug with a chink upon the glass. "Do you think so, Miss Rose?" he asked. "Do you really believe it so?"

"It's true, isn't it?" Ruby asked. "I mean, we were sent—"

"To gather information," Professor Ozpin reminded her. "To report back on what you found. You did that, relaying intelligence to Miss Sparkle who, in turn, passed it on to me, to General Ironwood, to the Council. You completed your mission—"

"We're not Atlesian soldiers, sir; we don't have missions," Ruby declared. "Well, okay, technically, we do, but the point is that we don't get to walk up to the line of what was originally asked of us, not take another step further, and then go home and call it 'job done' without worrying about the consequences or about what happened after or anything else. We're huntsmen; it's our job to go beyond, to protect the people, whatever it takes. We may have completed our mission, but we didn't complete the mission. We didn't protect the people."

Professor Ozpin picked up his cup, but did not drink from it. He simply held it in his hands, a little steam rising in front of his face. "You saw Mister Arc and Miss Nikos off on a northbound train this morning, did you not?"

Ruby didn't see the relevance of that, but she nodded. "They're going to visit Jaune's family for a couple of days."

"And when you walked them down to the train station, I'm sure you must have seen plenty of people out on the streets," Professor Ozpin pointed out.

"You know what I meant, Professor," Ruby admonished. "We didn't save everyone."

"And yet, the city was saved," Professor Ozpin replied. "Vale endures, and in a little while, we shall host the Vytal Festival, not only a celebration of unity and peace, but also a celebration of endurance, even in the face of those who would do us harm, their malice, and their wicked designs."

"So I should just accept that people died?" Ruby demanded. "How am I supposed to do that?"

Now Professor Ozpin drank from his hot chocolate. "It is true that victory is sweetest when it brings home full numbers," he admitted. "But there are many things worse than a victory such as was won at the Breach. A defeat, for one thing. I … I understand your feelings, Miss Rose, but … take it from me that one must appreciate victory when one attains it. If you only ever dwell upon what went imperfectly, upon what you did wrong, if every error becomes magnified into failure and defeat, then you will soon start to feel as though all your efforts are for nought, and before too long, you will simply cease to try, every effort having become pointless in your eyes."

"But if we don't feel the sting of our failures, how will we be driven to do better next time?" Ruby asked.

"There is a difference between acknowledged mistakes and blindly castigating yourself for not measuring up to an ideal which may not even be attainable," Professor Ozpin told her. "Miss Rose, what is it that you think that you, specifically, should have done differently?"

Ruby blinked. "I … um, I should have, I meant that I—"

"When you have the answer to that question, Miss Rose, then you have my permission to blame yourself for not acting differently, although only in the manner that you have decided you ought to have acted. Although even then, I would encourage you to remember that, in the field, you do not have the luxury of the introspective thought that you may give to the question once you leave here. Until then, I suggest that you allow yourself to feel triumphant, if only a little. Victories must be celebrated, if only to keep one's spirits up through the times when there are no victories to celebrate."

"I … I understand," Ruby said. "I think I do, anyway."

"Think on it, Miss Rose, I beg of you," Professor Ozpin urged. "Think on it, and I believe you will find my logic to be convincing."

Ruby drank a little more of her hot chocolate. The cup was about half empty now. "Are you still stalling, Professor?"

Professor Ozpin chuckled. "I am still your headmaster, Miss Rose; you must allow me to show a little care and concern for you." He stood up, back bent once more, and refilled his cup of hot cocoa from the pot. "Would you care for any more?" he asked.

"Not right now, Professor," Ruby said softly.

"Very well," Professor Ozpin said softly, and he sat back down once again.

There was a moment of silence in the office, broken only by the grinding of the gears above their heads.

Professor Ozpin clasped his hands together. "Where would you like me to begin, Miss Rose?" he asked.

Ruby blinked. "You're asking me?"

"Our time together is for your benefit," Professor Ozpin said. "In every sense."

"But…" Ruby hesitated for a moment. "How am I supposed to know where to start when I don't know anything? I don't…" She trailed off, thinking about her mother's diary. "You … you helped my mom get into Beacon, didn't you? She said that she wouldn't have been able to come to this school without you; it's in her entry about the first day."

"That is correct," Professor Ozpin agreed.

"How?" Ruby asked. "Why? Start there, start at the beginning; how did you know my mom?"

"I met Summer Rose by happy chance," Professor Ozpin admitted. "One of those fortunate coincidences which almost makes one believe in a benevolent providence, or else in the webs of fate guiding our pathways and our actions towards certain predetermined ends. Your mother came from outside the kingdoms — she could not place precisely where upon a map — I … I do not believe that she had had much of a formal education growing up. She could write well, read decently enough, and her knowledge of plants and herbs was exceptional, but while she had an intuitive grasp of the uses of dust, her knowledge of the science behind it was practically nonexistent, and her geography … as she told me once, 'I know the territory, Professor, I just can't make sense of the map.'" He chuckled. "What she could tell me was that she came from over the mountains."

"'Over the mountains'?" Ruby repeated. "But that … there are people living there?"

"There were people living there before either Vale or Mistral sought to colonise the land, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin replied. "Just as there are people living there now, long after the ambitions of both kingdoms have turned to dust. Your mother was one of those."

"Then," Ruby murmured. "Then why did she come to Beacon? How did she even know about Beacon?"

"Although there is little movement from Vale into the east of Sanus these days, a few hardy merchants and traders brave the mountain passes to head into the wilds, trading Valish trinkets for furs, the timbers of trees taller than any that grow on this side of the mountains these days, or simply for curiosities of a very different world from this one. I tacitly encourage such ventures, discreetly, of course; I use some of the school funds to make such expeditions worthwhile."

"Why?" Ruby asked.

"To spread word of Beacon," Professor Ozpin explained. "In the hopes of attracting people like your mother to this school."

"Silver-Eyed Warriors?"

Professor Ozpin chuckled. "No, Miss Rose, I never dreamed that I would be so fortunate. In truth, until I met Summer Rose, I did not think that there were any with silver eyes yet living in the world. I suppose that in the wilds, far beyond even what most people think of when they say 'beyond the kingdoms' is the only place they could survive. Salem's agents have hunted them down one by one."

"Is that…?" Ruby hesitated. "Is that what happened to Mom? Was she hunted down because of her eyes?"

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. "I … Summer's fate is a little difficult to piece together," he confessed. "The only reason that we can say for sure that she is dead is … because she never would have abandoned her children without word."

Ruby looked down. She blinked rapidly. She could feel her eyes growing wet; she could feel the phlegm starting to build up in her throat. She hastily downed most of the rest of her hot cocoa in order to cleanse her throat, and wiped at her eyes with the back of one hand. "I … I wouldn't mind some more chocolate, Professor."

"Of course," Professor Ozpin said, a comforting smile upon his face.

Ruby set the cup down upon the desk, and the headmaster rose to refill it for her. The liquid did not steam so much as when it was poured into the pot, but Ruby hoped that it would still taste as good.

It did, as she took her first gulp; the minty flavour lingered in her mouth after all the cocoa had been swallowed.

"Do you want to hear the beginning of the story?" Professor Ozpin asked. "Or the ending?"

Ruby thought for a moment. "The beginning," she said. "It sounds … happier."

"The story ends with you, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin reminded her. "I am sure that Summer would consider that the happiest ending imaginable. But as you wish, I will give you the beginning. As I say, I encourage a small number of travellers to venture over the mountains in the hope that by spreading Beacon's legend, I will draw, not Silver-Eyed Warriors perhaps, but young warriors all the same. It is hard to get a complete picture of life beyond the mountains, but from the students who have come from there, I get the sense that it is a land in which one must be hardy to survive, if not in person then as a people. Vigour and strength will always be welcome at Beacon, and even if not every student who arrives at this school comes for the right reasons … to teach those right reasons is, in many respects, what this school is for."

He paused for a moment. "Summer Rose was already an accomplished warrior when she arrived here, as you will know from her diary," he went on. "As you will know, there was some dispute with her father over her coming here, what she would learn. As you will know, she was already aware of how to use her silver eyes, at least to some extent."

"But she wanted more than that," Ruby murmured. "She wanted … she wanted to live, like Pyrrha wanted. She wanted to be more than just a Silver-Eyed Warrior; she wanted to be a person too."

"She wanted the Valish life, as she called it," Professor Ozpin said. "Although her first taste of Vale was … well, you asked me how we met, and in a roundabout fashion, we have arrived there at last. Summer Rose made her way over the mountains with a trader who had crossed the other way, but on their return to Vale, she was left alone, to make her own way in a city the like of which she had never seen before, filled with sights that must have seemed like the stuff of dreams to her, a city where she knew no one and did not even have any money that would be accepted by anyone.

"And then, seeing this wide-eyed girl all alone with no idea of where to go or what to do, three men tried to mug her," Professor Ozpin muttered. "A fine welcome to the big city."

"What happened to her?" Ruby asked. "Was she okay? I mean, of course she was okay, but was she—?"

"She killed them all," Professor Ozpin said. "As I said, they are a hardy folk, and the fact that these were not foes that she could vanquish with her silver eyes did not make Summer helpless."

Ruby was silent for a little while. She had never … she had never thought about her mother killing people before. She had just never thought about it. Obviously, there were times when you had to kill — Jaune had killed someone, and so had Sunset, and it didn't make either of them bad people — but she'd never thought about it. In her mind, there was no blood staining that white cloak.

And the fact that she had killed … yeah, they were criminals, but it wasn't as though they were trying to destroy the world or cause mass murder. They were criminals, but to kill them?

"I didn't tell you that so that you could judge your mother," Professor Ozpin said, demonstrating an uncanny ability to tell what Ruby was thinking. "She was attacked, and she reacted upon instinct. Those instincts happened to be lethal ones. Her would-be assailants were not the first to underestimate Summer Rose, to their peril."

Ruby nodded slightly. "What happened after that?"

"Your mother was arrested," Professor Ozpin declared. "She submitted peacefully to the police, who believed, based on her fighting prowess, that she might be a huntress who had lost her identification. I was summoned to see if I knew her. Instead … when she discovered that I was the headmaster of Beacon, she told me that she had come all the way across the mountains to come to my school. She was obviously a capable combatant. And she had silver eyes; I will not try to deny that that entered my thinking. Silver eyes, the first time I set eyes upon such in … too long."

"And so you arranged for her to come to Beacon," Ruby said. "Just like … just like me."

"I suppose there are some similarities," Professor Ozpin acknowledged. "Although you were never in trouble with the law in quite the same way, Miss Rose. But yes, since Summer Rose wanted to attend my school, and since I want people — especially skilled people like Summer Rose — to attend my school, the solution was rather obvious. I had her little brush with the law swept under the carpet, certified her as competent to combat-school equivalence, and ensured that she had a place to stay in Vale until the beginning of the year, which was, fortunately, not far off. And that, I believe, is where her diary picks up the story."

"Yes, Professor, her first entry is arriving at Beacon," Ruby said. "She met Dad on her first day, talked to you … do you know why she decided to start keeping a diary then?"

"Because she had something worth recording?" Professor Ozpin suggested. "Summer was a gifted student, and I took more of a hand in her education than I do for others, but the difference in age and position between the two of us meant that we were never friends. She did not confide the secrets of her innermost heart to me. Perhaps that, initially, is why she kept the journal: so that, in this strange place full of strange people, she had somebody in whom she could confide."

He paused for a moment. "As you know, your mother passed Initiation, even if she did have to be helped back to Beacon by the teammates she had made upon the way: your father, your uncle Qrow, and … Raven Branwen."

"And you made her team leader," Ruby murmured.

Professor Ozpin smiled. "Are you jealous, Miss Rose?"

"No," Ruby said, and drank some of her hot chocolate.

"No, I believe that," Professor Ozpin conceded. "As I believe I may have phrased that rather badly. Do you wonder why I did not make you the leader of your team?"

"I'm not saying anything against Sunset," Ruby insisted. "But I guess … I do wonder … what is it that Mom had that I don't?"

"You are assuming that that is the appropriate question, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin replied, his voice soft and gentle, like the tide lapping upon the beach. "And that is quite a large assumption to make."

Ruby frowned. "I don't understand."

"You are assuming," Professor Ozpin explained, "that I made the right choice in making Summer Rose leader of Team Stark, and so you ask what qualities she possessed that are missing in you. You are also leaving out the possibility that you have all of your mother's excellent qualities and would have made a fine leader in Miss Shimmer's absence, but more than that … more than that, you are also assuming that I stand by the decision to make your mother the leader of her team."

Ruby frowned. "You … you don't?"

"Unfortunately, Miss Rose, I have made a great many mistakes in my life," Professor Ozpin murmured. "And there are times when I fear that making Summer Rose the leader of her Team Stark was one of them."

"But…" Ruby muttered. "Then what—?"

"The proper question is 'who,' Miss Rose," Ozpin said.

Ruby thought for a moment. Her Dad? Uncle Qrow? No, there was only one alternative, one person who stood out in Mom's diary, one person who would have been more than willing to step up and lead in her mother's absence — or even in her presence, often enough. "Raven."

Professor Ozpin nodded. "Do you know how I select team leaders, Miss Rose?"

"Do you … study our records?" Ruby asked.

"I bear it in mind," Professor Ozpin agreed. "But to be honest, I base most of my judgement upon what I observe in the Initiation itself."

"You can see that?"

"There are cameras set up throughout the Emerald Forest," Professor Ozpin explained. "They serve as part of the security system, but they also allow for field exercises in the forest to be observed and graded; there would be little purpose in sending the students down into the woods if neither I nor your teachers had any way of knowing what you did when you were there."

"That … that makes a lot of sense," Ruby said softly.

"And so I observe the conduct of the students during Initiation," Professor Ozpin continued. "I see who takes the lead and how they lead and what the results are of their leadership. I chose Miss Belladonna to lead Team Bluebell over Miss Bonaventure — initially, of course — because although Miss Bonaventure was the more … strident … of the two when their team assembled, it was Miss Belladonna's directions that enabled them to overcome a King Taijitu they encountered on the way to the ruins. I chose your mother to lead because, when she and Raven encountered one another in the forest, it was Summer Rose who took the lead, and with enthusiasm I might add, while Raven appeared … almost disinterested. But … when your mother was exhausted from the use of her silver eyes, it was Raven who commanded your father to carry her back, and it was Raven who led them safely back to the school."

"And you think she would have been a better leader because of that?" Ruby asked.

"No," Professor Ozpin replied. "I think that … sometimes, I think I choose too early when it comes to picking leaders." He paused. "Summer had many excellent, wonderful qualities, Ruby, I would never wish you to think otherwise: she was brave, clever — although more in an intuitive than an academic sense — lively, engaging. She drew people to her like … like flowers towards the sun. Raven, on the other hand … frequently quiet, irascible when she was not quiet, by turns hostile and disinterested towards leadership, and particularly Summer's leadership … I can say in my defence that there were good reasons why I chose as I did. And yet…"

"Professor?"

"Why do you think, Miss Rose, that I never sought to train you in your silver eyes, as I helped your mother?" Professor Ozpin asked.

"I … I don't know," Ruby admitted.

"Summer … Summer had a great deal on her plate, in those early days at Beacon," Professor Ozpin said. "Classes in the day, including leadership classes, then lessons at night with me here in my office … and on top of all that, she had a great deal of catching up to do; there was so much that she didn't know, that she had not learned living outside the kingdoms. I should have considered that, but your mother never brought it up. Summer was … determined to succeed. She was determined to meet all expectations placed upon her; indeed, she sought to exceed them. It was Raven who came to see me one night, who brusquely informed me that I was pushing Summer too hard and that I needed to leave her alone."

"Really?" Ruby asked. "She said that?"

"I recall her exact words were 'Give her a break, Professor, or you'll answer to me.'" Professor Ozpin chuckled. "Neither of them were ever awed by me, which is more than I can say for most people, even your father and uncle. I always found it rather charming. All of which is a somewhat long way of saying that the reason I didn't begin your training the way that I began your mother's … I thought that you would probably be busy enough, and I didn't want an angry visit from Miss Shimmer."

Ruby snorted. She drank a little more of her hot chocolate, although it was really one lukewarm chocolate by this point. She drank a lot more of it, before it got even colder. "So … but why do you think Raven would have been a better leader than my mom?"

"Summer was … not a bad leader, by any means," Professor Ozpin said. "As I said, she had many virtues, and I admired her for them and appreciated all of them. But Raven … though she could be ferocious in battle and utterly without mercy, and though, indeed, she enjoyed being respected for her skill as a combatant … she never loved the song of swords, as Summer did. She did not thrill to battle; rather, she hazarded her life only when she considered it necessary to do so. Or when Summer led the way. It was Summer Rose who led Team Stark into the fighting at the battle they now call Ozpin's Stand, but when Summer was temporarily exhausted by the use of her eyes, it was Raven who stood over her, defending Summer from the grimm, though her own aura broke, and she was left scarred and tattered by the battle's end. It was Summer Rose who led Team Stark in a strike against Salem herself—"

"Struck at Salem?" Ruby cried. "But Sunset said—"

"But when the strike failed," Professor Ozpin went on, answering the obvious question, "it was Raven Branwen who led them out again. I chose Summer Rose to lead her team into battle, but there are times when I wonder if I should not have chosen Raven Branwen to keep them safe instead."

Ruby was silent for a moment. "And so you made Sunset the leader instead of me because … because I'm too much like mom?"

"Summer Rose was a force of nature on the battlefield, and not merely because of her eyes," Professor Ozpin said. "I see a great deal of her in you, Miss Rose, but I hope you can forgive me for wanting to try … a different approach this time around."

Ruby finished her cup of cocoa and put the mug down with a clink upon the glass table.

"What kind of weapon did she use?" she asked. "My mom, I mean, besides her silver eyes?"

"An axe," Professor Ozpin said. "I believe it was a family heirloom of sorts, although I'm not sure that she was supposed to have taken it with her. She called it Vargcrist."

"Vargcrist?"

"In the tongue, or at least a tongue, of the folk who dwell beyond the mountains, it means Wolf-Cleaver," Professor Ozpin explained.

"Ooh, cool," Ruby whispered. "What kind of an axe? Two heads or one?"

"I recall that it was double-headed."

"How big was it?"

"Almost as tall as she was, and Summer was taller than you, Miss Rose, I must say," Professor Ozpin replied amusedly.

Ruby smiled. "Did it turn into a gun?"

"Alas, no," Professor Ozpin informed her. "Remember, Summer came from over the mountains, where technology was much less sophisticated. Vargcrist was only an axe, but it was an exceedingly good axe, and Summer was very attached to it."

Ruby nodded eagerly. "Where is it now?"

"I don't know," Professor Ozpin admitted. "No one does, to my knowledge. It disappeared along with Summer herself. She took it with her on her last mission, and … as you know, she was never seen again. I fear the same fell beast that took her life devoured her weapon." He paused. "Would you have used it, had the choice been yours?"

"No," Ruby said at once. "No, I love my Crescent Rose too much. Although, maybe if the choice had been there when I was younger … it doesn't really matter, does it?" She waited a moment to add. "Yang once told me that Mom fought with a sword."

"No doubt, that seemed more quintessentially heroic to her," Professor Ozpin suggested.

"Yeah," Ruby said softly. "Yeah, I'm sure that was it." She thought, wondering what other questions she could ask Professor Ozpin. "Why … why did you pick them? You were testing them, weren't you? With the extra missions, like the time they had to escort Auburn to that village, you were seeing if you could tell them the truth, if you could recruit them the same way that you recruited us. Raven … Raven warned me about that."

"I am engaged in a great war, a war that is no less great for being waged largely in secret. And in a war, I must have soldiers. I never have vast armies at my command; at present, I have very few who know the truth and whom I can call upon in an emergency, but … I do not wish to sound as though the primary purpose of this school is to serve as a recruiting ground for the struggle against Salem — if that were the case, I would have more than Team Sapphire and your uncle Qrow at my disposal — but I would be remiss in my duties to the wider world not to keep a lookout for those exceptional students who might be willing and, more importantly, able to assist me in defending it in some fashion beyond the duties of ordinary huntsmen."

"But you haven't found very many," Ruby pointed out. "Or, like you said, you'd have more."

"It is a great deal to ask," Professor Ozpin replied. "I … I would hate to make a precipitous approach and then regret it later."

"Did you regret Team Stark?"

"No," Professor Ozpin said immediately. "I have many regrets, but that is not one of them. I had my eye on them from the moment they formed a team, even before. Your mother, silver-eyed, so skilled, so charismatic; Qrow and Raven, two of the best students that Beacon had ever seen, the best until Miss Nikos, and even then, I would not like to wager against either of them. Your father … well, Taiyang will forgive me for saying that he was not quite so exceptional, but he was brave and far from lacking in ability. And so I tested their skill, their commitment, I teased the edges of certain … mysteries to them, to see how they would react. I had Auburn, an old friend of mine, spend some time with them to give me her frank assessment of their characters, individually and as a group. I … I needed to be sure. I … test many teams that way; if you speak to the upperclassmen, I'm sure that they will tell you that in each year, there is one particular team that appears to enjoy my favour for a while … only to lose it, quite abruptly."

"When you decide that they're not ready," Ruby said.

Professor Ozpin nodded. "I fear they take it as a slight," he said. "Although some might say that I am doing them a favour."

"But you decided that Team Stark was ready."

"I did," Professor Ozpin agreed. "After Ozpin's stand … that was a terrible battle. In my life, I have never known a more terrible battle. Mountain Glenn, the pride of Vale, the supposed beginning of a new wave of colonisation, had been overrun by grimm with much bloodshed. Vale was in a panic, a much greater panic than that caused by the Breach, and that panic drew the grimm onwards, out of the ruins of Mountain Glenn. The Council … I must say that the Council of that day trusted me a lot more than the present administration; they gave me a free hand to organise the defence of the city, and I chose to fight the grimm away from Vale itself, though it meant offering battle upon the open ground. I led out every huntsman who would answer the call, and many students as well, although it was my intent to hold them in reserve, to use only in direst need.

"Summer Rose was unwilling to wait in reserve, and she convinced the others to move forward. I don't know how she had convinced them, but Summer always had a ready tongue, and she knew the words that would conjure courage in the hearts of others. She even persuaded other teams, Team Cello and Team Diamond, to come with her, although in the confusion that prevailed, the closer they came to the fighting, the three teams became separated; Team Diamond turned back, and Team Cello ended up having their own little adventure. Team Stark, at Summer's urging and Taiyang's encouragement, pressed on alone, and soon found themselves, if not where the fighting was thickest, then certainly where it was very thick indeed. It was not a position I would ever have intentionally put students in, certainly not students of their year, and yet, they held their own, and what was more, they held the line. I had no idea of what had happened to them until the battle was over — I was preoccupied by trying to find and slay the apex alpha who led the horde — but when the battle was done, I was … astonished, awed, amazed by what these children managed to do. I understood then, in ways I had not before, just what I had in these four extraordinary students. I understood that they were ready and that I had no need to delay any longer. And so, when Raven's injuries were mended, I summoned them to my office and unfolded the truth to them."

"How did they take it?" Ruby asked. "How did Mom take it?"

"Barely had the words left my mouth then she declared that she was in," Professor Ozpin said. "'So long as you need help, Professor, I'm your girl.' Those were her very words. 'Call on me for any need that you may have, for any aid you may require, for any duty that arises, for any battle that must be fought. Call on me, and I will be there.' She was … she was a very brave young woman. Very brave indeed. It took her a little longer to convince … some of the others, but she was able to bring them all onboard, with varying levels of enthusiasm. Ultimately, even those who had misgivings about the battle itself … they followed where she led. They would have followed her anywhere. They did follow her anywhere, even into Salem's own fortress."

"Why?" Ruby asked. "I mean, why did they go there? You said to Sunset and Pyrrha—"

"I did not lie to Miss Shimmer, or Miss Nikos," Professor Ozpin said. "Salem cannot be destroyed; I am more sure than ever of that now."

"Then why?"

"Because I thought that it might be possible to trap her," Professor Ozpin said. "I knew that Salem had sent her agents to systematically hunt down all Silver-Eyed Warriors, I knew — as you know — that silver eyes have the power to petrify grimm, not destroy them. I thought that there might be a connection there, that Salem might fear what silver eyes could do to her, that perhaps she could be petrified as a grimm could be. I thought that there might be a chance to end this war, and Summer — and Team Stark — agreed with me that it was a chance worth taking.

"General Ironwood was at that time a major commanding a cruiser; he had enjoyed a meteoric rise to reach that position at his age, and I had already taken him into my confidence; he agreed to risk his career — and more importantly, his ship — to carry Team Stark as close to Salem's fortress as he dared, so that they did not have far to fly in a Bullhead, and to wait for them to return. So they set out, full of high hopes, hopes which I shared as I waited here in this tower, waiting … waiting for word. Waiting for word that they had been successful, that the shadow had lifted, that a new day had dawned."

"But it didn't," Ruby whispered. "Salem … in Mountain Glenn, under Mountain Glenn … Salem spoke to us."

Professor Ozpin nodded. "Miss Shimmer has already confessed as much to me."

"Really?" Ruby asked. She would have thought it was the kind of thing that Sunset would have kept to herself.

"Miss Shimmer and I are enjoying something of a détente," Professor Ozpin explained. "But please, you were saying?"

"Right," Ruby said. "Salem … Salem, she said to me … I tried to defy her… I told her that we wouldn't give up, that we wouldn't give in, and she told me that … that Mom had said the same thing to her once."

"She was very brave, but ultimately quite mistaken."

Ruby shuddered at the memory. Her whole body trembled as she looked away, looked down at her hands on her lap, screwed her silver eyes tight shut, tried to put away the thought that she conjured from the depths.

She could feel Salem's voice in her head, she could hear it as if the words were newly spoken, she could remember the cold of Mountain Glenn all around her; surely, if she opened her eyes, she would see the darkness.

She could feel … she could feel … she could feel the hopelessness that she had felt then, the despair, the … the…

Ruby's breathing began to come swifter and more heavily. Her chest rose and fell. Her eyes—

"Ruby," Professor Ozpin's voice was like the ocean, washing away all that had been written on the beach before the tide came in, washing away the fear, washing away the despair, washing it all out to sea, never to be seen or heard from again. "Ruby, it's alright. She is not here. You are in Beacon and amongst friends. I am here, and Miss Shimmer is waiting for you at the bottom of the elevator. Please, Ruby, come back."

Ruby opened her eyes, blinking, wiping the tears that had begun to form with the back one hand. "I … sorry, Professor, I don't—"

"Salem has a malign influence, one that can linger far beyond her presence," Professor Ozpin said. "Quite understandable and nothing to be ashamed of. As for your mother … I did not ask for details of what had happened on their mission; suffice to say that Summer's eyes did not work as she or I had hoped, and Team Stark was lucky to escape alive." He fell silent for a little while. "And now, if you'll forgive me, Miss Rose, I think that that is enough for one day."

"But—"

"That is enough, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin said firmly. "We will speak again, I give you my word, but another time, another day."

"Okay," Ruby said, in a half grumbling tone as she got to her feet. "Thank you, Professor."

Professor Ozpin bowed his head. "It was an honour to speak of your mother again, Miss Rose."

 

[ScipioSmith]

My Fair Emerald​

Cinder prowled up and down in the library of Portchester Manor.

It was something that she had taken to doing a lot of: prowling. She had become a champion prowler these past nights. If you wanted a great prowler, then look no further than Cinder Fall.

It was not something she was proud of.

She was aware that it was bad form, bad leadership; she shouldn't be showing her impatience in front of Emerald or Lightning, certainly not in front of Sonata Dusk. She ought to have been still and calm, and affected to have no problems at all and thereby convince them that everything was going according to plan.

Still and calm were becoming harder for her. She feared that, in time, those concepts would become as foreign to her as sleep. There was a hunger in her that would not let her rest. It desired action, movement, purpose. It was not content to sit still, to wait, to watch. And it was becoming harder to control.

And so Cinder prowled the library, pacing up and down, roaming the bookshelves, growling and scowling and making it incredibly clear to any and all observers that things were not going as she wished.

They were not going at all. Cinder could not be still and patient, but it seemed that Tempest Shadow, Doctor Watts' superior agent, could be. She was so still and so patient that she had not yet found her way to Portchester Manor to chaperone Sonata into Vale. The siren was stuck in this house because there was no one to hold her leash and get her past the Red Line.

Cinder could not sit still, no longer could she stand idly by, and yet, all her plans were now sitting idly by on her behalf, on hold, put on pause, in limbo while she was forced to wait for this Tempest Shadow to deign to show herself.

It was intolerable. It was unbearable.

It was unavoidable, and it was driving her into a fury.

Who was Tempest Shadow to behave thus? To tarry thus? To treat Cinder thus? Did she not suspect Cinder's place? Did she not suspect the importance Salem attached to the successful completion of this mission? Had Doctor Watts not made it clear to her of what great import her new duties were and how much hung upon them?

Of course he had: that was almost certainly why he had advised Tempest Shadow to dawdle about getting to work. If he did not want Cinder to fail, then he certainly wanted her … well, he wanted her to be this angry, to feel the mounting impatience that grew greater every day she looked out of the window and saw no sign of Tempest Shadow.

He had put Tempest up to this that he might rile her by proxy, and done so moreover smug in the knowledge that she could not touch him or his protege.

Because, after all, she was out of other options. No matter how much Tempest might infuriate Cinder by her tardiness there was nothing that Cinder could do because she needed Tempest.

And so she was left to prowl, to pace, to growl inwardly and scowl outwardly and fret and wait with ever mounting impatience and how long would he try her patience so?

One word from her to Salem would be the end of the matter. Cinder knew that she had only to tell Salem that Doctor Watts was obstructing the mission, and Tempest Shadow would be at her door first thing the next morning, and Doctor Watts would carry a reminder not to put his pleasures before Salem's purpose ever again.

But if Cinder did that, she would have lost the battle of wills that was going on between them. She would have lost because she had proved unable to handle things herself but had to cry to mommy about it.

And so she waited, much though it chafed at her to do so.

It did not help matters that she was otherwise bored stiff.

If she had possessed something, anything else to focus on, then things would have been different. She would have been able to focus on that and leave Sonata for the moment.

But she did not. All her plans now hinged upon Sonata, and without her, they were all left standing at the start line, waiting for the race to begin.

It was getting to the point where Cinder was considering picking a fight with Ironwood's Atlesian specialists just to give herself something to do.

Plus, it would allow her to avenge her earlier defeat at their hands.

Plus, it would give her someone on whom to visit the rage she could not take out on Tempest Shadow.

Plus, it might be fun.

There were many advantages to it for a bored mind and a restless spirit.

It was a terrible idea, in many respects, and yet, Cinder had found that her mind, starved of stimulation, had planned out already how she would do it: she would remove herself from this house and choose a place of battle of her own choosing where Sonata would not be put at risk; then she would call Pyrrha and tip her off as to Cinder's new location, with an implication that she was looking for a rematch with Mistral's champion. Pyrrha, being a good girl, would alert the proper authorities to this — and even if she was tempted to accept Cinder's challenge herself, Cinder was fairly confident that Sunset and Jaune would talk her out of it — and General Ironwood's men would descend upon her from out of the skies.

And quite possibly best her, just as they had before.

The fact that Cinder was aware that it was a bad idea and yet was so bored she could not stop it growing in her mind was indicative of her situation.

She needed to find something to occupy herself, something with less attendant risk than battle against those who had already beaten her once — she would be revenged, have no doubt, but only once her plans were moving forward in other directions.

She needed something to do.

There was a knock at the open library door.

Cinder whirled around to face the doorway and saw Emerald standing there, head bowed.

"Well?" Cinder demanded.

"No sign of anyone," Emerald murmured, still not looking up.

Cinder fought back the urge to scream and throw things. She kept her voice soft and as sharp as one of her obsidian blades. "I see. Very well." She turned away from Emerald. "You may go."

"Of course," Emerald murmured. "I'm sorry, Cinder."

"Wait!" Cinder called, her voice to forestall Emerald's going because she had it now. She knew what she could do, into what she could pour her energies, with what she could occupy herself and so distract herself that, when Tempest Shadow eventually arrived, she would not find Cinder even slightly vexed.

And it would be … a nice thing. A kindly thing. The kind of thing that, if it were not lordly, was nonetheless kinder than the conduct of some lords.

"Cinder?" Emerald asked.

"Close the door," Cinder commanded her.

"Why?"

"Because this will be for us, not for Lightning Dust or Sonata," Cinder declared. "If they need us, they will have to knock. Shut the door."

This time Emerald obeyed Cinder's command; Cinder heard the door swing shut and close with a click of the latch.

Cinder turned around and gestured to a patch of floor in front of her. "Come here."

Emerald approached, confusion in her red eyes. "Is ... did I do something wrong because whatever it was I—"

"Stop," Cinder said, silencing Emerald with a word. "I did not bid you shut the door to muffle the sounds of your pain. You have done nothing wrong. You have done nought but seek to serve me well and do my bidding as I instructed you. And yet I in my turn have used you poorly."

Cinder paused for a moment. "The fact is, as you possess the manners of a peasant, I have found it easy to use you so and to dismiss you so. I have forgotten that, as I am your mistress, as I am responsible for you, it is my duty not to dismiss you but to uplift your manners to the standards of your betters."

Emerald frowned. "I … can I level with you for a second?"

"If you wish."

"I kind of feel as though I've been insulted, but I don't understand enough of what you just said to say for sure."

Cinder let out a bark of laughter. "My speech will seem less strange to you when we are done," she said. "But put plainly: Emerald Sustrai, I intend to make you a lady."

Emerald blinked. "Can you … can you do that?"

"I should hope so; I taught myself once upon a time," Cinder replied. "Like you, I was denied the opportunities offered to the likes of Pyrrha Nikos. Unlike you, I could read—"

"I can read," Emerald pointed out mildly.

"But did you have access to books growing up?" Cinder asked. "Were you culturally acclimated to understand which were the Great Books, the ones truly worth reading, the ones that would teach you everything you needed to know of how to live?"

"No," Emerald answered softly. "Why are you doing this?"

Cinder had no desire to confess her boredom, and so she answered with a question of her own: "Emerald, what do you think will happen when all this is over?"

"I don't understand," Emerald replied.

"When the battle is done," Cinder clarified. "When my task is complete for which I recruited you, what will you do?"

"I … I thought … I hoped … I want to stay with you, Cinder," Emerald said softly, her lower lip trembling.

"And why would you wish that?" Cinder asked. "I have done nought to earn your love or loyalty."

"Nothing but seek me out and ask my help," Emerald confirmed. "You … I've always been alone. I took what I needed to survive because no one ever gave me anything. You are the first person in the whole world to tell me that you needed me, so please, please, Cinder, let me stay by your side; even when this mission is completed, there will be other—"

"'Other battles'?" Cinder asked, cutting her off.

She felt … she felt as though Emerald had stolen Midnight and stabbed her through the gut with it. Truly, was there anything more pitiable and unfortunate than misplaced devotion? Cinder might have been forced to labour at her stepmother's command, but she had never been under the illusion that she was valued for her labour.

"Yes," she went on, "there will be other battles; there will be wars to come; after the Emerald Tower shall fall … the others, in what order my mistress shall decree."

It irked her somewhat that she was not privy enough to Salem's plans to name the next target, but that was something to brood on later.

"But to what end shall you stay with me?" Cinder asked. "What shall befall you if you stay by my side? Battles and wars and ranged against us such diverse several powers, any one of which, alone, might cause a gallant heart to tremble: Ironwood, Theodore, the noble lady Terri-Belle and all the blades of Mistral yet beside, hot-foot for vengeance for their princess slain. Four kingdoms and the power of Atlas stand opposed to us, and what are we to challenge them? Cunning and craft, hot tempers, knees that will not bend to do submission, are these such things to conquer realms and shatter armies? Perhaps," she allowed, turning away from Emerald for a moment. "Or perhaps not. But make no mistake, Emerald, I am the underdog, and if you fight with me too long … either you shall die, or I shall, and what then?"

She walked to the window, where sunlight streamed into the library, illuminating the dusty, leather-bound volumes where they sat upon the shelves, making the faded gold lettering gleam a little.

Cinder leaned upon the windowsill. "If you should die … well, then you will be dead, to speak plain, and dead is … dust. I will have no need of you in a grave, and nor will any other. And if I die—"

"You won't die," Emerald declared. "You're too—"

"Did you not hear me list the powers that are opposed to us?" Cinder demanded, rounding on her. "Do you not recall the champions most skilled and valiant which Ozpin may put on the field against us: vaunted Pyrrha Nikos, beloved Pyrrha Nikos, all the more vexing for being as she is my equal Pyrrha Nikos; and Sunset, who has great power and little honour to restrain it? My death is like as not, and yet … and yet, I fear it not, for ere I die, I'll do such things as will be the dread of kingdoms. Though I perish, they will speak for years and generations yet to come of what I did, and who I killed and ate up what I killed, and frighten little children prompt to bed with chiding them that Cinder Fall shall come to punish them their disobedience.

"But what of you, Emerald? What will you do when I am fallen, since you chose to stay by my side? I will give you means to live so that, when we part, me to my further wars, you may part to more than the thief you were when I found you."

"Live," Emerald murmured. "Live … where?"

Cinder turned to look at her. "I don't know, where you like," she said tartly. "Mistral, Vale—"

"There's still going to be a Vale?"

"I'm not planning to kill everyone!" Cinder declared. "What would be the point of that? Who would be left to tell my story, to remember me with fear and curses, to recall that once I lived and strove and battled against all the world?" She chuckled. "There will be a Vale, and you may live in it, or anywhere else you choose. Save, please, I beg of you, do not choose Vacuo, or all my work will be for nought.

"I will teach you how to move amongst the highest in the land, to speak as they do, move as they do, to blend in amongst them as though you are born to it."

"I still won't have the money that they do," Emerald murmured.

Cinder smiled. "Let me worry about that," she said. "So what say you? Would you like to be my equal?"

Emerald's eyes widened. "Yes!" she yelped, her voice rising. "I'd like that a lot. But…"

Cinder cocked her head to one side like a curious beast. "'But'?"

"Why me?" Emerald asked. "Why only me, and not Lightning Dust?"

"Lightning Dust is a brute beast, fit only to bear burdens and obey commands. She could not comprehend what I am about to teach, even if she had the willingness to do so. Man is born to follow and to adore, and Lightning Dust is a prime example of that, but you … you, I think, have the potential to be an object of worship, not a worshipper. You have it in you to be graceful; you have the wit to assume culture and a cultivated air. You are worth my time. Or do you so desire Lightning's company?"

"Not at all," Emerald said at once.

"Good," Cinder said. "Good." Her eyes fell upon the armband that Emerald wore upon her left arm, three rings of cold grey iron clasped about her dusky skin. "I gave that to you, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Emerald said, a smile appearing on her lips. "Yeah, you did."

Cinder nodded. "I'm going to ask you to give it back to me."

"What?" Emerald gasped. "But why?"

"Because I was too glib in the bestowing of it," Cinder answered, "cheapening its worth to you and to myself, giving too little thought to its meaning."

"'Meaning'?" Emerald repeated.

Cinder raised one eyebrow. "Does that not prove the point?" she asked. "I did not even trouble to explain to you what it was that I bestowed. Truly, I have been a poor mistress to you, and for that, I … you have my regret."

That was a more elegant way of saying it, and her opinion on the subject had nothing whatsoever to do with the fact that she could not bear to say sorry.

"You could explain now," Emerald suggested.

That was fair enough, so Cinder said, "Amongst Mistralians of a certain rank or deference to tradition, an honour band is bestowed upon a young warrior once they have completed their training or otherwise proven themselves worthy to be regarded as a warrior and a peer."

"Bestowed by who?" Emerald asked. She paused for a moment. "I see that … you aren't wearing one."

"No," Cinder replied, in a voice that was almost but not quite a growl. "To answer your question, it can be variously bestowed: a parent, a master, a commander. I never had anyone to bestow one upon me."

"Couldn't you just start wearing one?"

"That is not the point," Cinder declared. "The worth of the thing is not in the possession but in … but in who granted it, and the esteem they demonstrated by the bestowing. The honour in the name is that of the bestower as much or more as they who wear it. It marks a bond, connecting they who gave and they who received. To simply start wearing a band around my arm would be meaningless. But, once we are done. I will give you a more worthy band, and you will choose some words to have engraved within it, and in this way. I shall mark you as my equal."

Emerald's eyes widened. "'Your' … I could never be your equal."

"Not in power, perhaps, but in courtesy and grace and nimbleness of tongue. I see no reason why not," Cinder said. "If your tongue can be but as nimble as your fingers you will sing prettily yet."

"I … if you say so," Emerald said. "So … where do we start?"

XxXxX​

Lightning Dust frowned. "She said that? She said that about me?"

Sonata nodded. "I'm afraid so. I heard it myself. She hadn't even closed the door to say it."

Lightning was silent for a few moments. She rested her fists, knuckles down, upon the table. "'A brute beast'?"

Sonata nodded again. "Uh huh. I'm really sorry to have to tell you, but my sisters always used to say it was better to get hard truths than comforting lies. And believe me, they told me a lot of hard truths."

Lightning didn't reply. She didn't reply to anything for a few seconds. "Pretentious bitch," she growled.

"I'm really sorry!"

"Not you!" Lightning snapped, making Sonata cringe at her volume.

"Oh, you mean Cinder," Sonata said. "You know, just between you and me, I don't think she's very nice."

"I knew she didn't like me," Lightning said. "I didn't think she liked anyone, except maybe Sunset Shimmer—"

"Who?"

"One of our enemies."

Sonata tilted her head ninety degrees. "Why is one of our enemies the only person she likes?"

"Hell if I know," Lightning replied. "All I know is, whatever they've got going on between them makes them both weak."

"Does that worry you?" Sonata asked.

Lightning frowned. "A little bit," she said, her voice gruff. "She might be content to die gloriously, but that's not what I signed up for."

"Well, now you've got me a little worried."

"You're the one who told me what Cinder had been saying," Lightning pointed out.

"I was hoping you'd offer me some reassurance!"

Lightning let out a scoffing, snorting sound. "Sorry."

Sonata bowed her head. "I don't want to die," she whimpered.

Lightning felt a strong desire to stick her arm around Sonata's shoulders. She didn't, because she wasn't into all that mushy stuff, but she did say, "You're not going to die. You're going to be fine. Just stick with me; I'll see you right."

Sonata looked up at her. "Really?"

"I didn't get involved with this so I could die gloriously and become some little brat's nightmare," Lightning declared. "I'm here for power, the only thing that matters. The power that lets you do without being done to. Let Cinder and Emerald have their little lah-de-dah lessons, and we'll take care of ourselves."

Sonata leaned forwards. "How?"

"Like I told you, Cinder's weak," Lightning said. "Now, she might think that I'm a moron, but I've worked out what's going on. I've worked out why you've been stuck here all this time."

"You know, I was kind of wondering about that," Sonata admitted. "I thought maybe Cinder was trying to build hype for my big debut."

Lightning shook her head. "That's not it," she said. "You see, Cinder works for someone, I don't know who, but that someone has other people working for them besides Cinder, and that other person has people working for them like we work for Cinder, and Cinder is waiting for one of those people to come and help her out. You know what that means?"

"Everyone is working too hard, and we need a team outing?" Sonata suggested.

"No, no, that's not it," Lightning said.

"Aww," Sonata moaned. "We could have gone bowling."

"We'd be better off going to an escape room and locking Cinder inside," Lightning muttered. "But my point is that we don't have to be stuck working for Cinder; we've got options."

"Oh!" Sonata cooed appreciatively. "You mean we could get ourselves a new manager!"

"Exactly," Lightning said. "And all we have to do is wait for their guy to finally show up."

XxXxX​

And so, as more days passed, Cinder threw herself into the education of Emerald Sustrai.

She found that she was quite distracted from the ongoing absence of Tempest Shadow because, much to her surprise, she found that she was enjoying herself.

She had not expected to do so. She had not expected anything but something to while away the tedium while Doctor Watts continued to frustrate her. But no, as it turned out, there was something … Cinder did not entirely know how to describe it. She did not have the word upon the tip of her tongue, although no doubt, she would find one if she searched for long enough.

Emerald was much like herself in some respects; that was not something that Cinder had appreciated before now. They were not alike in temperament, in any way, and that dissimilarity had disguised to Cinder's eyes the ways in which they were the same. Emerald had not been to a noble or even to a bourgeois family; she had not had so far to fall as Cinder had. And yet, she, too, had been reduced to nothing, cast out, forced to survive on her wits and on her strength. She had not Cinder's vaulting ambition, nor her wrath, but, well, if everyone could be Cinder Fall, then to be Cinder Fall would be nothing extraordinary, and that would never do.

The fact was that they were as alike as they were different, and for Cinder to have the opportunity to do for Emerald what no one had volunteered to do for her, to teach Emerald what she had had to learn for herself … it touched her humour.

The world did not desire such as they, but they could learn to play its games regardless.

And then there was the sense of rightness that accompanied. Ever since … ever since she had fled from Beacon, ever since Sunset had seen her truth and past, Cinder had felt … there was an itching in her back, something … she could not explain it. There was a beowolf inside her, she knew that; she felt it growl and prowl and thirst for blood. But she also felt of late as though there was something else inside of her as well. A lord inside? A better angel of her nature? Something else that had no name or defied easy categorisation? Regardless, it pushed her to do better. It didn't push her to turn away from her plans for glory — for which she was very grateful — but it did push her to be nicer to Emerald, to reward her service, to care for her servant. There was an extent to which it pushed her to use Lightning Dust better also, but it seemed that whatever was inside of her was something of a snob.

This was the only way she could think to repay the debt of Emerald's loyalty. She had no lands to give, no wealth to offer, and what power lay in their grasp could not be shared. But she could give Emerald the means to be more than a thief, to perform as though she belonged in the glittering world with the likes of Phoebe and Pyrrha.

That was all it was: performance. A wonderful performance at times, a stunning performance with elaborate costumes and grand sets, but a performance nonetheless. Speak in just such a way, walk in such a way, comprehend our cultural signifiers at the surface level, bandy quotations about, be able to recite our values, even if you don't live up to them.

And Cinder considered herself to be a very good performer.

And there was one final reason, the most unexpected of reasons why Cinder found herself taking pleasure in the instruction of Emerald: it was … pleasing to watch her progress. It was like watching a flower bloom before the sun. It was watching someone come into themselves and knowing that you had played some part in it.

It was something she could point to and say 'I did that.' Nothing else that she had done lately had yielded up that same sense of concrete accomplishment.

It was pleasant. It did not yield the same exultant satisfaction as, say, the death of an enemy, the glee like fire or scorching heat, but nevertheless, it was pleasing in a soft and gentle way, like a cool breeze on a summer's day.

Or the memory of such, from when she could still feel the breeze.

They began with stance and posture. Emerald moved like a thief, with a furtive, slinking gait and a slight hunch to her stance, as though she were preparing to duck at any moment. Cinder had her stand up straight, keep her chin up, to look down on people instead of bowing her head. Elocution followed, not words — they would come through reading, through exposure to them, but how to pronounce, how to enunciate, how to avoid clipping the edges of her words, how to affect the proper accent. How to say that the rain in Vacuo fell mainly … nowhere, since it was a desert, but Emerald could say that it fell mainly on the plain in such an accent that people would take her word for it.

Emerald concentrated, and it was a testament to her native wit that she picked up swiftly what Cinder sought to teach her, but Cinder could tell that she was at the same time a little bemused by it. When they got onto table manners, Emerald dared to give voice to her concerns.

"Cinder," she murmured, "I appreciate what you're doing—"

"And I appreciate that you are choosing your words with care," Cinder replied, smiling. She was sat at a little table she had moved into the library from the parlour, with a porcelain tea set — empty — spread out before her. Cinder had gone rooting around in the Manor to find it, discovering a great deal of smashed crockery before she did. "However," she went on, "it's quite unnecessary."

"Really?" Emerald asked.

Cinder's eyebrow rose. "Speak your mind," she commanded.

Emerald swallowed. "It's just that … some of this stuff … seems kind of pointless."

Cinder's hand clenched into a fist beneath the table. She took a deep breath, seeking to control her irritation; she had invited Emerald to speak freely, after all, and a display of anger would be a poor way to begin the lesson. Besides, it wasn't her fault: the fashion of the world trended that way and encouraged such thoughts and opinions.

And it wasn't as though she didn't have a point.

Cinder picked up one of the china cups, extending her pinkie finger outwards. The gold around the rim was gone, and so was most of the pattern around the sides. Cinder probably hadn't helped matters when she washed them; she detested washing dishes and had not taken the proper care she might have done.

She gathered her thoughts. "You are … not wrong," she conceded. "However, I have … three reasons why I do thus, three reasons why this is, in my opinion, worthwhile.

"You may say that class, in these times, is less important than money. Depending on which kingdom you choose to live in, you may be close to right. But money, unless one possesses a nigh-unlimited supply of it like Jacques Schnee, will not put one above suspicion. Suspicion, apart from anything else, as to where you got the money, particularly if you appear by manners and bearing to be unworthy of it, to have acquired it through illicit means. People will ask questions, people will investigate … but I have seen first-hand the way that the right accent, the right manners, can put one above all suspicion of wrongdoing. Convince them to accept you as a gentlewoman, Emerald, and the police will bow to you, defer to you, call you 'my lady,' and apologise for any inconvenience done to you. And behind closed doors, you may be as wicked as you please."

And the Kommeni had certainly known how to be wicked; the only lesson they had ever taught to Cinder.

"That ties into the second reason," she went on, "which is that, although it is true that these things have no real material value or benefit to them, nevertheless, they are important signifiers. Tell me, Emerald, why does Beacon Academy have leadership classes? Sit down; you look so awkward standing there like that."

Emerald sat, a slight frown crinkling her forehead. "Because Ozpin thinks that leadership can be taught?"

"Because Ozpin knows that leadership is performative," Cinder explained. "Though there is such a thing as innate leadership, most of those who choose to present themselves as such are not born leaders but, rather, those who have mastered the signifiers that we associate with leadership: the appearance of courage, the appearance of confidence. It is all put on.

"And so it is here. We are told that the world is moving in a more egalitarian direction, that we are all becoming more equal; leaving aside to what extent that is desirable, the fact is that it is not so. We are judged yet for how we seem, you know that well enough, no?"

Emerald nodded. "Well enough."

"And how we seem gives us the right to judge," Cinder said. "You will be amazed at how many people will consent to be looked down upon by one who fits their image of a social superior."

"I never did," Emerald pointed out.

Cinder smiled. "You are not most people," she replied. "And hence, you are worthy to join the elite. Again, mere possession of wealth will only carry you so far; certainly, it will not shield you against the sneers and snobbery which trail a parvenu. To be immune from sneers, you must act like they who sneer, and thus, you will also gain the right to sneer at others."

Emerald was silent for a moment. "And the third reason?"

"Hmm?"

"You said there were three reasons," Emerald reminded her.

"Ah, yes, of course," Cinder murmured. "Three reasons." She put down the teacup. "Humour me," she said.

"Cinder?"

Cinder said nothing for a moment. "There are times," she said, "when I hate these things."

"Manners?"

"The things that they are taken to signify," Cinder said. "Worth, chiefly; importance, acceptability. Do you recall I temporarily took leave of you to go to Mistral?"

Emerald nodded. "You met Sunset for the first time," she muttered.

"Indeed," Cinder agreed, a faint smile crossing her face at the memory. "I wore a gown of black, with white feathers in my hair; I almost looked like a grimm." She paused. "I wished that I could set a grimm amongst all those proud and indolent lords and turn their pretensions to blood and horror." Her whole body shuddered with that same desire, the beowolf inside awake now, prowling, growling within her. She bought her will to bear upon it, forcing it back to sleep, or at least back into its cage.

"I don't understand," Emerald said, "then why—?"

"Because I also remember my parents having afternoon tea on the veranda, with the view out to sea spread out before them," Cinder murmured.

Emerald blinked. "You … you've never talked about your family."

"Nor will I," Cinder said, "except to say that genteel manners … can be gentle. They may be of no practical import, they may cover up a host of misdeeds and abuses, they may be a paper facade that would prove worthless when the barbarity of the outside world intrudes, but at the same time … the fact that we can be something more than barbarians, that we consider one another to be worth more than coarseness and ill grace might be said to be something worth celebrating.

"Take," Cinder continued, "take Pyrrha, for instance." Little as she desired to take Pyrrha anywhere but an early grave, she was a good illustration of Cinder's point. "Take Jaune. Which do you think Pyrrha would prefer: that he touch her gently and speak her sweetly and kiss her softly and all things gallant and courteous besides, and at every step, inquire as to her comfort, or that he snarl and snap and rail at her and strike her and seize her body as by entitlement and use her to his pleasure and not hers?"

"The first one, obviously."

"Indeed, the second would leave her weeping," Cinder said. "For that which we use roughly, we esteem cheaply and show how little value we do place upon it. But that which we hold dear and precious, we treat with care and gentleness."

Emerald stared at her for a moment with a wide-eyed look of wondrous amazement on her face, though what cause she had to look amazed, Cinder could hardly say.

"I'm ready for the lesson now," she said.

Manners, then. How to sit, how to hold a cup, which knife and fork when many knives and forks were present, which wine to order with which meal — don't order red wine with fish; it will give you away immediately. A lot of this, it was true, was covered in Atlesian etiquette classes, but Cinder was not certain that Emerald had been paying much attention in those classes; there was no harm in giving her … a refresher, at the very least.

Cinder herself … she had rather enjoyed those, and had been getting very good marks before she had been forced to flee from Beacon; as she had confessed to Emerald, it had reminded her of home, of her mother before she died, of the fellow officers of the Argus station who had called upon her and father at their home, who had dined with them. When she had been a very young girl, who ought to have gone to bed by the time the dinner parties got into swing, Cinder had been used to sit halfway up the stairs, arms wrapped around the bannisters, listening to the conversation in the dining room. She had not understood half, or more than half, of what was being said, but it had been pleasant to sit there nonetheless, to listen to the hubbub flowing around her and try to comprehend what words she could.

She could still remember their names: Major Croft, Captain Wentworth, Lieutenant Benwick, Lieutenant Harville. She remembered the way that they had brought her presents, doted on her. They had seemed so decent then, so noble.

She remembered the way that they had all disappeared after her mother died, all those decent, courteous, honourable officers. Not all at once; there had been visits at first, but these had been perfunctory things, etiquette and courtesy masking a fundamental disinterest: 'are you in health', that sort of thing. And then they had stopped coming altogether. They had abandoned Cinder to the mercy of the Kommeni.

That was the problem with manners, of course; it didn't mean you actually gave a damn. It just enabled you to hide the fact that you didn't care with nice words and proper behaviour.

It was all … a bit of a lie, really. But lies could make the world a better place, from time to time, and lies would allow Emerald to prosper in her future, and so, Cinder shook off her … mixed feelings and continued the lesson.

And after that … after that, it was literature, to which Cinder had, she would confess, been looking forward.

It was fortunate that they were having these lessons in the library, and it was fortunate that the library of Portchester was well stocked with the classics, because it meant that Cinder could, when the time was right, simply pluck The Mistraliad from the shelf and hold it lightly in one hand.

"There are books that are called Great Books," Cinder said, "and we shall cover a few of those in summary—"

"Why are they called 'Great Books'?" Emerald asked.

"Because some professor at a university decided that they were," Cinder answered. "Although, lest that should sound too cynical, I should add that those which are considered great are, in my opinion, rather good."

While Phoebe had gone to Atlas to train in arms, Philonoe, her other stepsister, had wished to attend the University of Mistral and study Greats, otherwise known as literae humaniores, a mixture of ancient literature, languages, and history. Cinder had burned her alive before she got the chance, but before that, she had borrowed a great many of Philonoe's books and read them by torchlight while the rest of the family was asleep. She had quite enjoyed some of them.

None, though, meant so very much to her as the book that she held in her hand. "This book, Emerald, this book is, in my opinion and in the opinion of other learned fellows, ancient and modern, the greatest of the great. When you read a text, and the author refers to simply 'the poet' — as the poet sang, as the poet teaches us, in the words of the poet, that sort of thing — they are always referring to Demodocus, who set down The Mistraliad, the song of arms and the man, many generations ago."

"I've never read it," Emerald murmured.

"I didn't expect that you had," Cinder replied. "But you have the chance now, seeing as we are not otherwise overburdened with work, and I … I really do recommend it to you, for every conceivable reason. This book is … this book is the foundation of Mistralian culture, it is the wellspring of all the values of that kingdom, even if they are values which are only pretended to. If you wish to pass for a lady, then you must at least be able to perform a familiarity with this book; everyone has read it, it will seem bizarre if you have not, so you must acquire at least a passing familiarity with the principal characters, the notable scenes, a few of the more quotable lines of dialogue. More than that, it…" She paused for a moment. "This book, this tale, could be completely unknown," Cinder declared. "It could have been forgotten, lost save for a single copy which had fallen into my hands, it could be the case that you could read it and no one would understand what you were talking about, and still, I would urge you to read it regardless, because … because it is tremendous. There is a reason it has not been forgotten, there is a reason that a kingdom and a culture have been built upon it, and that reason is that it speaks powerfully to what it means to be … to be human."

Again, Cinder paused, wondering if she had forfeited her claim upon this tale of humanity in her pursuit of … no, since she was in pursuit of all those things that animated the heroes of the tale, how could she lose her claim upon the tale by the means by which she pursued them?

"There is a tale," Cinder went on, "that during the Great War, as General Colton and his Valish army were sailing from Sanus to Mistral, the general called upon an island lying between the two continents to consult with the famous philosopher Stessichus, and that all the wisdom Stessichus gave him was contained within the pages of The Mistraliad, for the wisdom of the poet is timeless."

"Did General Colton pay attention?" Emerald asked.

"No, he mocked Stessichus for not having any new thoughts in his head." Cinder said. "And so he was defeated in his campaign by Ares Claudandus; serves him right, the uncultured swine."

Again, she took pause, weighing the book in her hand. "Emerald," she murmured. "You and I … you and I are … we are not so different as I once believed. Both … alone, forced to fend for ourselves, forced to teach ourselves how to survive in the midst of a world that did not want us. The difference between us is that … is that I had this book, I had the great Pyrrha to inspire me, the cunning Diomedes to mentor me, the noble Juturna to steel my heart. They made me what I am, in my faults, but in my glories too."

Emerald hesitated for a moment. "Is that … is that the story with the giant badger?"

"It was actually a giant rabbit, but no," Cinder said. "Eventually, yes, as the legends go, Diomedes did construct a giant rabbit in which the warriors hid, so that when the Mistralians opened the gates to receive it, their enemies poured out and sacked the city, but that comes later; in fact, it comes in the Solitasis, now mostly lost to us save for fragments and summary. Everyone confuses The Mistraliad with all the other legends around the war — the kidnapping of the princess, the rabbit, and so on and so forth — but it is not. It is a much tighter work, more focussed, and yet, in its focus, universal."

"Then what is it about?" asked Emerald.

"The wrath of Pyrrha," Cinder said. "Yes, she was named after the hero; in fact, she is her descendant, and yes, I find that fact incredibly infuriating. Not least for the way that all of Mistral hangs upon her star, her Evenstar and praises her as though she were her namesake reborn, and yet, they are nothing alike. Pyrrha, the great Pyrrha, the Pyrrha that lives within these pages, that taught me and moulded me and spoke to me, she is … she is wild, chaotic, driven by an overriding, one might say overreaching, passion. Does that sound at all like that red-haired milksop back at Beacon?"

"Not really," Emerald murmured.

"No," Cinder said. "No, it does not. And yet, she is the Evenstar, she is the pride and glory of Mistral reborn, she is … she is everything, and everything wrong with what Mistral has become, the decay of … people know this story, but they do not understand it, or rather, they do not wish to understand it; everything has become softened, has had its hard edges smoothed away; everything has become acceptable for the consumption of children and tourists. And so, the pride of Mistral, the model of our virtue, is this soft, mild, shy, beauty of a girl who looks good on cereal boxes and would never say or do anything untoward while I…"

"Cinder?"

"I am the true Evenstar of Mistral," Cinder declared. "All that is embodied in these heroes, I embody also: all their pride, all their vanity, all their overreach, it lives in me as it never could in Pyrrha Nikos, for all that she be descended from a line of heroes, princes, and emperors."

Emerald was silent for a moment. She squirmed in her seat as though she had piles. "Is … is that a good thing, though?"

Cinder blinked. "I … what do you mean?"

"I mean … it doesn't sound all that great," Emerald said, speaking very quietly, as though she hoped that Cinder wouldn't actually hear her. "None of those things … they're not actually good things. I mean, they don't sound good."

Cinder frowned. "Do they not?"

"Pride, vanity, overreach," Emerald repeated. "Not really."

"No?" Cinder asked. "Without pride, how will we retain ourselves? Without ambition, for what will we be remembered? We live in a society that is eager to grind us down, you know this as well as I do; we are … we are nothing. What is Cinder Fall, what is Emerald Sustrai, what are we worth, to the rich and the powerful? What are we for, but to be used for their purposes and then discarded? We are nothing to them; we are nothing to the world. None will regard us unless we regard ourselves; we must hold our heads up high, we must believe that we are worth more than they believe, for no one else will believe it on our behalf. We must reach for more than they think us capable of. And you know this, Emerald; you may not like the words, but you know this, or why did I find you robbing high-end jewellery stores?"

"You could get good money for some of those things."

"At a high risk," Cinder pointed out.

"Yeah," Emerald conceded. "But the risk is worth it."

"Tell me that you did not think that you should be wearing some of the fine things you stole," Cinder demanded, folding her arms — though she still held onto the book. "Tell me that did not enter into your consideration at all."

Emerald hesitated. She squirmed in place. She looked away. "I did sometimes think … why not me? Why them? And when I would trick the jeweller, use my semblance to make him see a lady or a bride to be and her fiancée, I would think … why not me?"

Cinder nodded approvingly. "It shall be you," she declared. "One day. I give you my word. That is why I chose you, Emerald, not for your semblance or your skill; I could find a hundred thieves with sticky fingers, I could find semblances of as much use as yours or greater, but I chose you because I saw your pride and your ambition; then, you may have wished to deny it even to yourself. It shall be yours. All that you desire."

"But not yours?" Emerald asked. "Why are you doing this, Cinder?"

"This … what?"

"All of this," Emerald declared. "This war, this fight, these plans … you said it yourself: you're the underdog, you're up against so much, it … it almost sounded like you didn't expect to win. It sounded … you sounded as if you were going to your death."

Cinder was silent for a moment. "In The Mistraliad," she said, "when Pyrrha forsakes the battle, her dear friend — and more than friend, it is widely believed — Camilla leads out their forces in her stead, and in the fighting, she is killed by Juturna, the princess and champion of Mistral. Pyrrha flies into a rage, a rage made deeper by guilt; she hates Juturna, but more than that, she hates herself for having not been there when Camilla needed her the most, for being the cause of Camilla's death. And so, Pyrrha makes a bargain with her mother, a goddess: the gods will grant Pyrrha vengeance, she will strike down Juturna … but her own death will follow hard upon. That is what the gods offer Pyrrha, and she accepts, without a second thought.

"Earlier that morning, as the Mistralian troops assemble at the gate, Juturna's husband begs her not to lead the army out personally. He begs her to command from the walls, to take pity on him, to think of what would become of their family in her absence. Juturna, though she is not unmindful, refuses, for all that — or perhaps because — the day will come when Mistral must fall, the slaughter of Polyperchon and his people. She must go, you see, as Pyrrha must, as Sarpedon and Glauce must, they must go."

"But why must you?" Emerald demanded. "Why do you have to fight, although you've just described the odds against you? Atlas, Mistral, Sunset and Pyrrha and General Ironwood and all his men, you're going to send me away because the battles to come will be too dangerous, but you plan to let those same battles consume you until there's nothing left? What are you even fighting for?"

"What am I fighting for?" Cinder repeated. "I…"

She trailed off. It was not a question so easily answered. She could not say, as Juturna had, that she fought for her home, her father, her people, her city. It was Pyrrha's answer then. In some ways, she too had made a bargain with a god, although Salem perhaps did not understand the nature of the bargain that they had struck. Salem … Salem planned to win this war, with Cinder as her instrument. Cinder herself … Cinder would win this battle for Vale, and strike down Pyrrha Nikos, and then…

She would do all that she could, fight as hard as she could, strive with all her might and all the power that she could attain, but she was under no illusions. She might try to bring down the world, but she would not succeed. Nor, to be perfectly honest, would she wish to do so. For a hero, after all, the end of the story was as important as anything else, and 'and then she won everything and went home content' was not much of a heroic ending.

And that was without mentioning the fact that she had no home to go back to.

Everything but my pride was taken from me, and nothing was given in return but a rage that only bloody vengeance can begin to sate. And so, I will fight for those things because I have nothing else to fight for.

Certainly, I have nothing else to live for.

"What is there but the fight?" Cinder asked. She raised her hand and let flames spark at her fingertips. "I have a fire in me, Emerald; I must let it burn brightly, though it burn me out and consume me until only ashes remain. What have I else?"

"That's not true," Emerald declared. "You could—"

There was a knock on the door.

"What?" Cinder demanded.

"My name is Tempest Shadow," came a voice from the other side of the door. "I believe you've been expecting me."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Powder Keg​

Cinder kept her face composed. She did not want to show her emotions in front of Emerald, especially not now that they were approaching a greater degree of equality, and so, she kept her expression calm, emotionless, inscrutable.

Inside, she could feel the fire stirring to life anew. Inside, she could feel the beowolf start to growl.

She clasped her hands together behind her back, so that nobody could see them clench into fists.

"Come in," she said, keeping her tone even and neutral.

The door into the library opened, and the girl who had identified herself from without as Tempest Shadow walked in.

Cinder recognised her, vaguely; she was an Atlas student, part of Team … Tsunami, yes, Team Tsunami, the one with the loudmouth for a leader. Cinder could remember them, but that did not translate to memories of Tempest Shadow, although from that, Cinder took the fact that she, unlike her notional leader, was not a loudmouth.

What she was was tall, as tall as Pyrrha — and thus, annoyingly, taller than Cinder herself — and seeming taller still by the Mohawk in which she wore her rose-coloured hair, which rose like the crest of a helmet and added almost an extra foot to her not inconsiderable height. A black bodysuit, skintight but with everything that might have been revealed covered up by additional armour-like pads of semi-solid looking plastic, embraced her entire body from the neck down, although she was wearing a pair of black boots with dark purple toecaps upon her feet also.

Her eyes were opal and marred upon the right side of her face by a scar that descended down from her temple, crossing the eye and continuing down her cheek.

She had a weapon slung across her back, although being slung across her back as it was, what the weapon might be exactly, Cinder could not yet tell.

So, this was Doctor Watts' better agent. Cinder could already see why he might have wanted to keep her to himself. Between Tempest and Sweetie Drops, there was no doubt in Cinder's mind that Tempest was the favourite.

That much was clear to her from the way that Tempest stood, mirroring Cinder's stance with her hands clasped behind her back, her face as expressionless and as impossible to read as Cinder was endeavouring to make her own.

She was not afraid of Cinder, or if she was, then she was determined not to show it. She didn't want to let Watts down by showing fear in the presence of his rival.

It was intolerable. To waltz in here, after so long, after so much delay, and then to offer not a single word of apology or excuse, not to explain, not to do anything, just to stand there as though nothing was wrong.

Cinder might have been willing to accept an apology, if delivered with the right amount of fawning, but this? She was supposed to bear this?

Cinder took a deep breath. "Emerald, would you mind leaving the room?" she asked, showing more courtesy than she had in the past reserved for Emerald, now that they were closer in social status; besides, it would send all the wrong messages if she taught Emerald how to speak and act and carry herself in such a way as to win the respect of others and then went on showing her no respect herself. "I fear I am about to do something unladylike."

Emerald got up from her seat. "I … of course, Cinder." She started to make her way towards the door.

"Back straight," Cinder whispered, because she could see from her stance that Emerald was tempted to assume the slinking gait that came so naturally to her.

She could understand why; this was a situation that seemed to invite slinking and smallness and moving in such a way as not to be noticed, but once you started down that road … no. You held your head up high no matter the circumstances, and damned all who tried to bring you down. That was the only way. That was what it meant to still have your pride.

Emerald glanced at her, and a brief smile flitted across her lips, and she walked towards the door with her back straight and her chin up and damn Tempest Shadow.

"Oh, Emerald," Cinder called to her, when she had almost reached the door. "Would you kindly fetch Sonata Dusk, bring her here, and wait with her outside until our business is concluded? Tempest will be out to take charge of her soon enough."

Emerald hesitated for a moment, and then she curtsied, even though she was hardly dressed for the gesture, crossing her left leg behind her right and spreading her arms out slightly on either side of her. "Of course, Cinder," she said, "as you wish."

The corner of Cinder's lip curled upwards in the slightest smile. Good girl.

Emerald turned, ignoring Tempest Shadow completely — as she should; one should never pay any visible attention to the help until one had need of their services, which was not, of course, to say that one shouldn't keep a discrete eye on what they were up to, just that you should never, ever make it obvious that was what you were doing — as she walked out through the doorway.

She shut the door behind her, leaving Cinder and Tempest alone in the library.

Tempest glanced at the closed door. "Was I interrupting something?" She smirked. "I can come back later, if that's more convenient."

Oh, you think you're terribly witty, don't you? Cinder thought. She glanced down at The Mistraliad in her hand. Diomedes had known how to deal with wags and wits.

"Sit still and wait for orders from your betters, you who are worthless, counting for nothing in battle or debate."

She carefully put the book back on the shelf, since it seemed that the literature lesson had been postponed for just a little while.

"So," she said softly, "you are Tempest Shadow."

"Yes," Tempest replied.

"Nice of you to finally show yourself," Cinder remarked.

Tempest snorted. "I was busy."

Cinder wondered if Tempest had any idea just how badly she wanted to roast the other girl alive. Nevertheless, she forced herself to face Watts' agent and chuckle.

She had no idea whether it was at all convincing or whether it sounded as false as it felt, but nevertheless, she chuckled. She chuckled as she strode across the library, bearing down on Tempest Shadow.

She advanced upon her, until practically no distance at all remained.

Tempest Shadow looked down on her.

She looked down on Cinder Fall.

It was the final insult, slight upon slight piled upon Cinder's head, and now, she looked down upon her.

It was not to be borne.

Cinder's face contorted into a snarl of rage as she swept Tempest's legs out from under her with a swift kick. Tempest Shadow was broad of shoulder, and with firm legs besides, but Cinder had caught her by surprise, and her legs went flying out from under her as she fell sideways with a startled gasp, hitting the wooden library floor with a thump.

Cinder kicked her while she was down, driving her slipper-clad foot into Tempest's gut, before kneeling on the floor and grabbing Watts' prized pet by the throat.

"Just who," she snarled, "do you think you are?"

Anger flared in Tempest's opal eyes, warming them somewhat as, with one hand, she reached up and grabbed Cinder's forearm, trying to wrench her away from Tempest's throat.

Cinder offered a grin that was something of a grimace. "Nice to see some honest emotion out of you," she said, as with her own free hand, she grabbed Tempest's hand and, with her semblance, began to apply a little bit of heat to it.

Tempest didn't react; she kept on trying to pull Cinder's hand away from her neck. She didn't appear to notice that her arm was getting steadily warmer and warmer.

Strange, unless…

Cinder cocked her head to one side. "Did you lose the arm in the service of Atlas, or of Doctor Watts?"

Tempest's eyes widened. "H— what are you doing?"

"This," Cinder said, and began to apply her semblance to her other hand instead, to the one that was holding Tempest by the neck.

Tempest winced and began to squirm and writhe in Cinder's grasp, trying to shake free of the heat that was becoming increasingly unbearable.

"I don't know whether Arthur put you up to this, or whether it was your clever idea," Cinder snarled, "but let me make one thing very clear to you: you are not Arthur Watts, and you are not my equal. I have not affection for your master, nor he for me: he thinks me too erratic, too arrogant, too … unpredictable." She chuckled. "He might even be right. And so he snipes at me and makes mock of me, and since we are equals, I must bear his insults and put all thoughts of vengeance or retribution from my mind. You, on the other hand, are not my equal. You may be Doctor Watts' favoured servant, but you are a servant nevertheless. You are a servant, and right now, you are serving me. Do not play games with me again, do I make myself clear?"

Tempest nodded. There was anger in her eyes, hate even; Cinder cared not. Let Tempest hate her all she liked, it was of no import.

Cinder released her, rising to her feet and ostentatiously turning her back upon the other girl. "I have been chosen to carry this operation forward," she declared. "Without me, this enterprise, so crucial to our cause, cannot succeed. Remember that."

Tempest rose to her feet, clutching at her neck with one hand, not the one that Cinder was fairly sure was artificial. "It seems," she said, "as though you can't succeed without me either."

"You believed that, and yet you dallied?" Cinder asked, without confirming whether or not it was true. "Some might question your dedication."

Tempest was silent for a moment. "What is it you would have me do?"

"Outside that door there is a Siren," Cinder said. "She is … an otherworldly creature, although she may not seem so by her manners or behaviour. You will escort her into Vale, and there, she will sing."

She had no idea if Watts had briefed Tempest Shadow on all of this already or not, but there was no harm in going over it all again; it eliminated the possibility that Watts had given Tempest the wrong instructions to trip up Cinder and make her look foolish.

"'Sing'?" Tempest asked.

Cinder turned to face her. "Her voice has magic in it; she can control people, spread negative emotions."

"Ah," Tempest murmured. "That explains it."

Cinder didn't ask her to clarify what she thought had just been explained. "I need her to spread negative emotions throughout Vale; this will require more than one trip, I know, so you will find yourself busy. You will escort her into Vale, let her give her performances, and then bring her back here. In addition to that, I will give you the names of men in Vale I wish you to contact on my behalf."

"What kind of men?" asked Tempest.

Cinder debated not telling Tempest, leaving her ignorant, informing her that she had no need to know that particular detail; however, if matters proved to be more complicated than simply going to certain addresses — if, for example, contact was lost between them for whatever reason — then it might be as well that Tempest had sufficient information to operate independently. After all, Cinder had to admit that one of the reasons that Sweetie Drops had been so useless to her was that Cinder had attempted to micromanage her from a distance, doling out very little information and only bare instructions that Sweetie, without context, had failed to properly execute.

It might be better to give Tempest Shadow a little more to go on.

"Grimm cultists," Cinder said. "Black Shepherds, in the main, sect leaders; I need them to come here so that I may give them their instructions."

Her plan — which she was not about to reveal to Tempest in its entirety — was two-pronged. First, she would use Sonata's power to spread strife and discord amongst the defenders of Vale; since she could not cripple the Atlesian power with a computer virus, she would spread a virus through the hearts of men. Vale already resented Atlas for saving them from the Breach; it would only require a little sweet siren song to enflame that resentment into something more dangerous.

The second part of her plan involved using the deluded worshippers of the grimm and of their mistress to carry out acts of sabotage against the defences of Vale when the moment of decision came. She would plunge all of Vale into a state of chaos.

And as the confusion reigned, she would take the crown for Salem and the magic for herself, and then … and then, she would seize the CCT and let the world know that it was she, Cinder Fall, who had brought these great powers to their knees.

Then she would kill Pyrrha while the cameras were rolling.

Admittedly, she hadn't quite thought through the logistics of getting Pyrrha alone for their last fight yet — it would be something of a challenge to separate her from her teammates, let alone anyone else — but she would think of something before the moment came.

Maybe she'll come running to stop me when she finds out that I'm at the tower.

No, Sunset would never let her do that by herself, even if she was so foolish.

Never mind; the answer will come to me.

In any case, that was only the last part of a plan that was otherwise fully developed. She had sewn the seeds with the Breach, giving the Atlesians a moment of glory which the Valish would seethe and stew at; now, Sonata would plough the ground for her.

And then it would be a simple matter of waiting for the appropriate harvest time.

"I see," Tempest said softly. "On the other side of that door?"

"Or will be, soon enough," Cinder replied.

Tempest snorted. "I've never met an otherworldly magical creature before. You won't mind if I get started right away?"

Oh, now you want to get started. "By all means," Cinder said, gesturing towards the door.

Tempest walked to the door and opened it.

"Hey there! I hear that somebody is my brand new escort!" Sonata cried. "Hey, can we get something to eat when we're in the big city, because I am staaaarving!"

Tempest looked at Cinder in disbelief.

"As I said," Cinder reminded her, "'despite her appearance and behaviour.'"

XxXxX​

"Oh my gosh this is so amazing!" Sonata yelled through her mouthful of food. "What did you say this was called again?"

"It's called a taco," Tempest said slowly. "And they're not really that great."

"'Not that great,' have you tried these?" Sonata asked. She had the rest of her taco clutched in one hand, wrapped in silver foil. "You wanna try it?" She waved the half-eaten taco in Tempest's face.

Tempest leaned away. "Thanks … I'll pass."

"Suit yourself," Sonata said. "More for me, I guess." She swallowed and immediately took another bite. As she chewed, she seemed for the first time to notice the looks that she was getting from the populace as she and Tempest walked down the Vale street. "Why is everybody looking at us?"

"Not us: you," Tempest said. "They're looking at you because you're dressed like the heartwarming orphan in a musical theatre production. Speaking of which…"

"Shopping first, then singing," Sonata said cheerfully. "Like you just said, I need to change out of this outfit."

"Sure," Tempest said. "Just remember that this is my money you're spending before you go too crazy."

Sonata nodded as she swallowed her next bite of taco. "So, how long have you been working with Cinder?"

"I don't work for Cinder," Tempest said firmly, rounding on Sonata, who came to a hurried halt, almost — but not quite — dropping her taco in the process. "I work for Doctor Watts. I … he has temporarily placed me at Cinder's disposal, but I do not work for her."

"Oh, yeah, sure, that's a big difference," Sonata agreed, nodding eagerly. She took another bite out of her taco and tried to speak with her mouth full, to incomprehensible results.

Tempest's eyebrows rose. "You want to try repeating that?"

Sonata swallowed. "Sorry. I was just saying, I think you're pretty lucky; not everyone who works for Cinder seems to like it very much."

"Really?" Tempest murmured. That was interesting to know, if true, but she wasn't sure that she would trust Sonata to tell her that the sky was blue at this point, the way that she was acting. "Emerald didn't seem to have an issue with her; in fact, they seemed quite close, the way that they were carrying on together."

"Yeah, they're tight," Sonata agreed. "But Lightning Dust … she's not a happy camper, if you know what I mean. I don't think she's feeling very appreciated."

"Is that a fact?" Tempest said softly. When she returned with Sonata to the manor, she would have to find an excuse to talk with Lightning Dust, find out if there was any truth to what Sonata was saying.

"It is!" Sonata insisted. "Cinder was talking about her behind her back to Emerald; it was really mean."

"Seriously?" Tempest demanded. "Talking about her behind her— how old are they?"

She sighed. No wonder Doctor Watts had nothing but contempt for Cinder. Still, anything that she could use would do; if she could strip Cinder of all her subordinates, it would make supplanting her so much easier.

Perhaps Sonata wasn't as foolish as she looked.

"Don't answer that," Tempest added, before Sonata could respond. "Anyway, we should—"

"Tempest?"

Tempest rolled her eyes. "Oh God, it would be her, wouldn't it?"

"Tempest?" The voice that assailed the ears of Tempest Shadow was aristocratic, refined, and thoroughly detestable to… Tempest supposed that there was someone to whom that voice was not thoroughly detestable, but for the life of her, she couldn't imagine who that somebody might be.

The voice belonged to Phoebe Kommenos, leader of Team PSTL, and she was making her way down the street towards Tempest and Sonata. She was dressed in a provocative red summer dress that, much as it pained Tempest to admit, flattered her figure exactly as much as she seemed to think it did, with her bright golden hair hanging in artful, almost regal-seeming ringlets all around her head. Golden bangles gleamed in the sunlight upon both her arms, and her eyes were concealed behind a pair of designer sunglasses. Her teammate Mal Sapphire, a goat faunus with a pair of horns growing out of her forehead, followed in the footsteps, her arms heavily laden down with shopping bags that Tempest already knew belonged to Phoebe, not Mal.

A gaggle of other Atlas students, all girls, followed in Phoebe's wake. Tempest could only assume that they got something out of her company, because she couldn't imagine that anyone would choose to willingly associate with Phoebe Kommenos unless there was some advantage in it.

Or perhaps, given by the way that their hair was all exquisitely arranged, their faces made up, and their clothes all of the very finest quality, they were all just as awful as Phoebe herself. Birds of a feather and all that.

For herself, it had been many years since Tempest had seen the point of friends. In this world, you could only rely on yourself, ultimately; when the crunch came, everyone else would abandon you, even those you thought loved you the most.

Phoebe might learn that lesson herself, in time.

Tempest kind of hoped she would.

"Tempest," Phoebe declared again, condescension rolling off the name. "So it is you." She smirked. "I thought I recognised your grim countenance and dour dress."

"And I recognised you," Tempest said, "using your teammate as a pack mule."

Phoebe laughed. "Well, you know how it is, one needs to keep one's hands free just in case, and really, what else are the little beasts good for, after all?"

Her human companions giggled appreciatively, as though she had just said something terribly witty. Phoebe herself smiled as though she had reason to be pleased with herself as her gaze slid from Tempest to Sonata.

"And who is this?" Phoebe asked. "I don't think I've seen you before, and I think I would have remembered somebody dressed so unfashionably. Tempest, are you volunteering with the homeless now?" She laughed again and, once again, was joined by her fawning hangers-on. "But that gem looks like it might be worth something." She leaned forwards to affix Sonata with a glare. "Now where did someone like you get something like that? Did you steal it?" She reached out one lithe-fingered hand to it, as though she had half a mind to steal it herself. "It obviously doesn't belong to a little—"

Sonata's hand intercepted Phoebe's before it had gotten half-way, closing around her wrist with a strength that made Phoebe Kommenos cry out in pain. Tempest tensed, Phoebe's cronies gasped in shock, Mal made a squeaking sound of alarm.

This could be very bad, Tempest thought. She didn't want to fight all of these students — her fellow students, supposedly — but of course she couldn't allow Sonata to come to any harm. Cinder or no, Doctor Watts had impressed on her how crucial the siren was to the best plan that they had right now.

Tempest would just have to defend her and hope to wriggle free of any consequence.

And if not, then she would have to take the consequences for the sake of the mission.

For the sake of the mission and Doctor Watts.

Tempest steeled herself for the outbreak of violence … and then Sonata began to sing.

It was hard for Tempest to focus on the individual words; it felt … it felt as though there was a kind of fog coming down on her mind, inhibiting her concentration, clouding her thoughts. She couldn't hear the words; although she knew that there were words, it was as though … it was as though they weren't really meant for her somehow. She felt anger rousing inside of her, but it was like she wasn't meant to feel that angry, and so … so, she didn't. She felt angry, but nothing compared to the fury that she could see boiling on the face of Phoebe Kommenos.

"P-Pyrrha," Phoebe growled through gritted teeth. "Going … get her…"

Sonata crooned softly, and as she sang, she released Phoebe's hand and began to circle around her, stroking the Atlesian team leader on her shoulders and her neck, leaning in to practically whisper in her ear.

Around Tempest, she could see other people in the street starting to argue with one another, muttering angrily and one or two even shouting at one another. She could see Phoebe's acolytes turn on each other, accusations thrown this way and that, petty things but seemingly no less heartfelt for all that.

The gem around Sonata's neck seemed brighter than it had done a moment ago.

Sonata ceased her song and stood behind Phoebe with a bright smile on her face.

Phoebe growled at the empty air, Tempest and Sonata seemingly forgotten. "Come on, girls!" she said, turning away. "Mal! Don't just stand there like a moron; get moving!" She stalked off down the street, and her companions followed in her wake, still muttering amongst one another, shooting dirty glares at one another as they trailed after Phoebe.

In whatever state they left, they left.

Tempest was left alone with Sonata.

"So," Tempest said. "That's your power, huh?"

"Yep!" Sonata chirruped. "You don't mind, do you? She wasn't a friend of yours, was she?"

"Hardly," Tempest muttered. "What was it you did, precisely?"

Sonata shrugged. "She was a pretty angry person; I just made it boil up a little bit. What's that about, anyway? Why is she so angry?"

Tempest smirked. "You ever heard of the Invincible Girl, Pyrrha Nikos?"

"I think Cinder might have mentioned her once or twice."

"Phoebe would like to think of herself as Pyrrha's rival," Tempest said. "One of them anyway; even Phoebe knows that Arslan is the real rival. That … would not be ideal, from her perspective, but a champion can never have too many rivals, can they?" She smiled thinly, a smile which failed to reach her eyes. "No, the real trouble is that it's such a one-sided rivalry, and even Phoebe knows it. It's not that she's never beaten Pyrrha — nobody has ever beaten Pyrrha, after all; that's the point — it's the fact that she's never even come close. The public don't like her; her fellow competitors don't respect her. It eats at her, and she blames Pyrrha for it."

"You know a lot about her, don't you?" Sonata asked.

"I'm curious about people," Tempest said. "I like to understand them, how they think, what motivates them." She paused for a moment. "When things happen that you don't expect, when you get blindsided by a surprise … that's when you get hurt. When you understand everything and everyone around you, when you can predict what they'll do, that's when you can plot the path to victory." Her gaze lingered upon her Siren companion. What is it that motivates you?

Sonata took a step back. "Do I have something on my face?"

I'm more concerned with whether or not you've got anything in your head. "No," Tempest said. "So … is that what you do? You bring people's anger up to the surface?"

Sonata shrugged once more. "It's one of the things I do."

"Why?"

Sonata blinked. "Why what?"

"Why do you do it?" Tempest asked.

"Why does a shark swim?" Sonata asked. "Why does it eat all of the other little fishies?" She stuffed the remainder of her taco into her mouth. "Now can we go shopping? I really want to change out of this mess and get some cool clothes like everybody else is wearing."

So, you do this because … you're born this way? That wasn't particularly helpful, even if Tempest believed it. It was hard to predict a creature driven by its base instincts when you only had a feeble, rudimentary grasp on what those instincts might be.

In any case, Tempest didn't believe her, not completely. It might be that some of this was in her nature, but Sonata would have to be stupider than she was — and while she wasn't as stupid as she wanted Tempest to think she was, Tempest did not think her very bright; that comment about sharks had been an accidental slip of the mask. She could have asked why the fish swam, but she had had to say shark and reveal how she really saw herself: a predator — to have no will or desire of her own.

She wanted something. She wanted, it seemed, to cause a rift between Cinder and those around her, like Tempest and Lightning Dust. That was fine by Tempest, but she couldn't yet work out why Sonata wanted it.

Perhaps she wanted nothing more than to escape in the confusion when the knives came out.

Or perhaps there was more to it than that, but Tempest wasn't going to find it out by staring at her or standing here pondering. In order to understand people, you sometimes had no choice but to observe them in action.

And besides, she had a job to do.

A job that entailed taking Sonata clothes shopping.

It was not fair to say that Doctor Watts wasn't paying Tempest for her services; it was not widely known, but there were those — like Trixie and Starlight, from whom it was hard to have secrets — who knew that Tempest received a modest income courtesy of an anonymous benefactor who was watching her career with great interest. But the key word in that was 'modest,' so Tempest took Sonata to one of Vale's more budget clothing stores; paid, albeit reluctantly, for the things that Sonata chose; and then waited outside the changing room for the siren to emerge.

"Ta-da!" Sonata cried when she actually did emerge, throwing her arms up and outwards, forming a Y shape with her body as she struck a pose, one foot in front of the other, her back contorting as she thrust her bosom outwards.

The siren was dressed in a short-sleeved violet jacket that matched her eyes and left her forearms bare; beneath that, a short skirt of bright neon pink covered her thigh, while high violet boots with bright pink socks underneath went up almost to her knees. A pair of pink bracelets studded with metal spikes clung to her wrists, while her hair was bound up in a high ponytail which still fell down to her waist before curving back upwards.

"Do I look great or what?"

"You look … fine," Tempest said evenly. It wasn't as if she was a great judge of fashion in any event. "Are you ready now?"

"Ready to sing? You betcha!" Sonata said. She hesitated. "Uh, what am I supposed to be singing about again?"

Tempest rolled her eyes. She suspected that Sonata had genuinely forgotten. "You're supposed to be causing ill-feeling amongst the Valish towards Atlas."

"Oh, yeah, right; I remember now," Sonata said. "Piece of cake. I could do that all on my own, which is a good thing, considering I am alone, right?" She chuckled. "So, where do you want me to start; shall I start right here?"

"Not right here, no," Tempest said. "Wait until I give you the word."

The store to which Tempest had brought her was in a pedestrianised street, where cars were off limits and the whole road was reserved for foot traffic, so as to reduce noise pollution and provide a more convivial — and safer — experience for shoppers. People thronged the street; the initial shock of the Breach that had driven the people of Vale to huddle in their homes and shun the out of doors had subsided now, people had realised that they were not in imminent danger of being devoured by beowolves, and the late summer weather had brought them out to pack the street, passing in and out of the shops, heading up the street towards the movie theatre and the shopping centre or down it towards the metro station. The weather was still just warm enough to make ice cream a tempting treat, and there was more than one cart selling it, alongside lollies and lemonade and various other peddled foods and drinks for the end of summer. The air hummed with conversation and with the thumping of hundreds of footsteps on the pedestrianised road.

And in the sky directly above them, an Atlesian cruiser hung, casting a shadow over the road, a visible and inescapable symbol of Vale's failure and its shame.

With Sonata now dressed in a casual style, nobody paid her much mind as she followed Tempest's lead; Tempest's own get-up attracted no notice at all, since it was hardly unusual to see a young huntress on the streets.

Nobody questioned them as they made their way towards the metro station, where hordes of people filed in and out, rising up out of the underground or else descending down into its depths.

Nobody marked them. This was a common spot for buskers and singers, a place where you were guaranteed an audience, willing or otherwise.

The lack of sound pollution, courtesy of the no-traffic policy, was certainly a big help too.

"Here," Tempest said, "but don't start just yet."

Doctor Watts had warned her about this, and after hearing a little of Sonata's voice, Tempest could understand why he had warned her. Out of a pouch at her hip, she fished out a pair of noise-cancelling headphones — Trixie's noise-cancelling headphones, to be precise, which was why they were purple with silver stars on them; Tempest should be okay, provided Trixie didn't find out that she'd borrowed them.

They were wireless, fortunately for her purposes, and Tempest had already connected them to her scroll, so it was just a matter of turning on her selected music, a death metal track that sounded like a demented cheetah screaming into a microphone at three hundred decibels while angry gorillas backed him up on guitar and drums, and giving Sonata a thumbs up.

Sonata gave a grin that was almost savage in anticipation. Tempest couldn't hear a single thing going on around her; a goliath could have snuck up behind her, and she wouldn't have noticed until it picked her up in its truck, but she could see Sonata make a throat-clearing motion.

And then, Tempest guessed, she began to sing.

Tempest could hear none of it. She was glad that she could hear none of it, the memory of the way that Sonata's singing with Phoebe had affected her was bad enough, and that, she thought, had turned out to be rather mild in the end. This was going to be Sonata singing her heart out, and that was not something…

No, that wasn't true. Tempest did want to hear it. But she understood that just because she wanted to hear it didn't mean that she should; she had a mission to complete for Doctor Watts; she couldn't risk it, couldn't risk failing him, just to indulge herself.

When you allowed yourself to be surprised, when the unexpected happened, that was when you got hurt. And magic was something that would definitely surprise Tempest Shadow.

That was why she was curious about it.

Still, Tempest kept the headphones on, and as she kept the headphones on, she could not hear the song, not one word, not one single note.

But she could observe the effect that it was having on others though. People stopped what they were doing; whether they were coming into a store, leaving a shop, coming into or out of the metro station, buying a snack or a drink, they stopped all of it. They stopped, people barging into the people in front of them, the whole street staggering to a sort of ragged halt, everyone turning towards Sonata.

Tempest herself, though she couldn't hear, she could feel … something. It wasn't much, but it pricked at her, urging her to take off the headphones. She resisted, of course, but it pricked at her nonetheless, like needles being jabbed into her forehead.

Tempest frowned and concentrated on watching the people around her. They were not just stopped now; they certainly were not frozen, no; now, they were becoming angry. She could see them, the people who had been walked into rounding upon those who had walked into, voices moving quickly in what Tempest could only imagine to be angry words. Hands were clenched into fists.

And then someone pointed upwards towards the Atlesian cruiser in the skies, a sharp, angry jab with a finger. Faces turned upwards, faces set in scowls of snarls. Someone shook their fist to heavenward; another raised it and held it there, as if in defiance. More quick mouth movements, and Tempest could only imagine what curses were being hurled in the direction of the warship.

The gem around Sonata's neck was glowing brightly now, much brighter than before; it looked more beautiful than any ruby ever had, as sharp as diamond and as red as blood. Sonata smiled coquettishly at Tempest as she stepped away, moving into the crowd, leaving Tempest as she darted into the press, the crush of people preventing Tempest from following. For a moment, Tempest's eyes widened, darting back and forth, fearful that Sonata had attempted to escape already, but no; no, there she was. Tempest could see her now, weaving her way amongst the crowd. She was moving … Tempest couldn't hear her, but she could see her swaying, moving, moving her arms; it was … it was not quite like anything she had seen before; it wasn't dancing … except it clearly was … except it was like no dance that Tempest knew; it was … it was like some kind of aquatic creature, flowing in the water, tensionless … alluring.

Beautiful.

Tempest watched Sonata sway and flow amongst the ground, cupping one man's face as though she might kiss him, tilting a woman's chin up as though she might kiss her, touching those that she could reach before gesturing lithely upwards towards the Atlesian man-o'-war. She could not watch anything else. She was transfixed by her.

Her hands itched to tear off the headphones so that she could hear as well as see.

She might have done it too, her resistance crumbling, but then … then it was over. It seemed to be anyway; the crowd … the crowd did not settle, or at least if they settled, it was into quarrelling, a whole mass of people standing in the street growling at one another, snarling at one another, muttering angrily at one another, pointing in the faces of those around them. But Sonata seemed to have stopped singing; the brightness of the gem around her neck was faded a little as she slunk back to where Tempest was standing.

She beamed and held both thumbs up.

Tempest took off her headphones, reflexively folding them back up to put away. "That was … that was incredible," she murmured, surveying all that Sonata had done, all of these people turned to wrath so swiftly.

"Aww, that's nice of you to say, but that's nothing really," Sonata said, clasping her hands behind her. "And anyway, you didn't even hear my song!"

"No," Tempest said softly. "But I…" She hesitated. What had she been about to say, that she would? That she wanted to?

She did want to. And why not? Because Doctor Watts did not wish it so? He didn't own her. Why should he forbid what she wanted?

Because she owed everything to him; where was this coming from?

How could she be affected when she hadn't heard a thing?

"Maybe … maybe I will," Tempest muttered.

"Really!" Sonata cried. "I would love that!" She grabbed Tempest's arm and glomped onto it, clinging on like a barnacle to ship. "You and I are going to be besties, I can feel it!" She smiled. "So, where are we going to go next?"

Tempest looked around at Sonata's handiwork, all the anger and the discontent, the glares shot upwards at the power of Atlas hanging over them. It was not much, compared to the size of Vale, a mere pebble tossed down a mountainside.

But it was a pebble that would start an avalanche.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Leaf​

"You're going down, Ruby!" Sunset shouted, with glee in her voice.

"You're going … further down!" Ruby yelled to be heard over the noise of the revving engines. "So far down you can't even see the floor!"

The two of them sat upon their borrowed motorcycles on the start line of the dirt course at the Blue Warthogs Motorcycle Club and Rally Course, which — although it stood in the middle of the city of Vale, behind the safety of the Red Line — nevertheless occupied a patch of greenery through which had been carved a dirt racing track which now lay before them. As a club, the Blue Warthogs competed in the city's competitive rally circuit — not to any great success, but not to any immense shame either — but they also had days where they opened their track up to all comers, and this, it turns out, was such a day.

Sunset had been a little surprised when Ruby had suggested dirtbike racing as something they could do, but now, as she revved her bike and waited for the race to start, she was more than willing to admit that it had been a good idea.

Sunset had driven them both down there upon Sunset's own bike, but Sunset doubted that her much-maligned machine would be judged eligible to compete, and so, she and Ruby had rented out a pair of dirt bikes from the club for the occasion. Sunset's bike was an appropriate red and gold colour, painted as though it had been made for her, matching her hair which spilled out from beneath her helmet, with wings that were flamelike in shape and colour sticking out behind the seat.

Sunset … kind of wished that she could keep it, to be honest.

Keep the wings, anyway.

Ruby had been a little less fortunate in her bike, but she had still managed to find one that was a fitting blood red colour, the colour of the cloak that she had not been allowed to wear while racing. There were no roses anywhere to be found upon the motorcycle, but Sunset supposed you couldn't have everything.

And besides, Ruby made up for it with the roses painted in black upon her red cycling helmet, joined by a pattern of thorns around the visor, which was up to reveal a little of Ruby's pale face and silver eyes. In place of her cape and her usual outfit, Ruby was wearing a black padded jacket with red pads upon the shoulders and elbows, while her trousers, also black, had red stripes running down the sides; only her boots remained the same as usual.

Sunset herself hadn't changed; she'd just done her jacket up and put an orange helmet on over her head, letting her flaming her spill out of it down her back. She had also exchanged her bridal gloves for a pair of padded gloves, through which she gripped the handlebars of her rented motorcycle while she waited for the race to start.

She and Ruby were not alone on the course; there were about a dozen racers in all, some of them club members and others, like Sunset and Ruby, come down for the day, all lined up on the starting line, all waiting.

Sunset wasn't bothered about any of the rest of them. This race was between her and Ruby.

The dirtbikes revved, their engines growling so that they sounded as impatient for the off as Sunset felt.

A wire fence surrounded the track, and a few people had gathered at the fence to cheer on the racers.

"Come on, Leaf!" someone shouted. Sunset guessed that Leaf was also somewhere on the starting line.

It wasn't hard to work out.

"Get ready!"

Sunset brought down the visor on her helmet; Ruby did the same, as did all those other competitors who had had theirs visors up until now.

A middle-aged man, his hair turning grey, stood just off the edge of the dirt track with a large red flag held in his hand. He raised the flag above his head so that it caught the wind, then brought it downwards in sharp motion.

Sunset let her bike off the leash, the vehicle leaping forwards as the race began. Her tires kicked up dirt on either side of her as the vehicle surged off the starting line, down into the depression, carved into the earth, which marked the first stage of the track.

She had been the first off, but not for long; Ruby had nearly matched her reflexes, and to her side, Sunset saw Ruby on her red dirtbike briefly pull ahead of her.

Not today, Ruby.

Yes, this was supposed to be fun, but it wouldn't be fun if they didn't take it seriously, so Sunset let the throttle out, accelerating to carry her past Ruby and back into first place.

Only to be confronted by a tight bend which was, no doubt, the reason why everyone behind was hanging back a little bit.

The rules of the race were very clear: fall, and you were done; leave the track, and you were done; get off your bike, and you were done.

Sunset swerved on the bend, wrenching at the handlebars to turn the motorcycle, her rear wheel spinning around, dirt fountaining up off the track to spray the grass verge and the wire fence and anyone unlucky enough to be standing beyond. The dirtbike slid as it rose up the dirt ledge towards the very edge of the race course. It wobbled; it swayed; Sunset felt herself falling sideways, the ground getting closer as she fought for balance in those fleeting moments.

And then the bike began to roar forwards once again, Sunset righting herself and the bike as she descended off the ledge and back down onto the main body of the dirt track.

A long straight lay before her, and Sunset had no need to decelerate.

The sound of an engine behind her caught her attention, a growling engine, a roaring engine, an engine catching up with her. Sunset didn't dare risk losing her balance by looking back, but as the engine sound got closer and closer, Sunset risked a glance sideways. It wasn't Ruby; this was someone else: a green motorcycle, the rider wearing a jacket of red gold like autumn leaves and a wood brown helmet. They were level with Sunset and very close. Their knees were almost touching as they drove hard down the straight, both of their bikes showering the other with dirt kicked up by the wheels.

The rider on the green bike swerved towards Sunset, forcing Sunset to swerve to the left to avoid a collision.

What the—?

The rider in red-gold swerved again, again forcing Sunset more to the left.

Are you trying to run me off the track? There was nothing in the rules against that, but it wasn't very sporting if you asked Sunset.

She was tempted to let the other rider, whoever they were, run into her and see what happened; they would both crash, and both be out of the race, but with her aura, Sunset was almost certain that she'd be in a better state when the dust settled than whoever this clown was.

But ultimately, that was the reason why she had to keep swerving, because she'd be in a better state after any accident.

The track split in two up ahead, a path to the left and a path to the right, with a barrier of piled up tires marking the point at which the two separated.

Sunset was aiming straight for the tires; if she kept on going straight, then she would hit them and be out of the race; the rider on the green bike was keeping pace with her. If they kept going straight, then they'd hit the tires too, but there was no one on their right stopping from swerving in that direction.

Sunset understood: she didn't want to run Sunset off the course; she wanted to keep Sunset from going to the right and force her to the left. The course to the right rose a little; it was hard to say for sure from here, but Sunset suspected that to the right, there was a jump, while to the left there was a depression. By going right but making Sunset go left, the rider in red-gold would pull ahead.

Or I could just wait until you break right and do the same.

But the other rider didn't break right. They kept on going straight ahead, aiming straight for the tires, cutting Sunset off. Sunset accelerated, but so did they, keeping pace with Sunset, keeping her blocked off.

The game was chicken. One of them would have to break one way or the other, or they would both hit the wall of tires and be disqualified.

They both went straight.

The tires got closer.

They both went straight.

The tires got closer and closer and closer…

Sunset let out a wordless growl of frustration as she broke left, turning away from the tires and her red-gold opponent both alike. The rider on the green bike broke to the right.

Sunset descended into a depression, just as she'd thought, the course descending into an even steeper cut down into the ground which rose up on either side of her. Above, she could see the rider on the green motorcycle flying through the air as they made the jump, with Ruby following close behind.

It's a pity you couldn't wear your cape; it would look awesome flying out behind you right now.

But I should probably focus on myself.

There were logs down in the bottom of the depression, half-buried in the earth, because missing the jump wasn't punishment enough for any fool who went left, but Sunset accelerated anyway, taking the bike as fast as it would go, ignoring the pain on her rear as it bounced up and down upon the motorcycle seat.

Like a bat out of Tartarus — or at least, like a motorcycle on a rock album cover — Sunset came roaring out of the ditch, and if she didn't get to a make a jump, she still cleared the deck by a few feet before landing on the ground again to start pursuing Ruby and the rider in red-gold.

They were both ahead of her now; Ruby was in second place, with the green motorcycle in pole position, swerving left and right to keep Ruby cut off and maintain her lead. Ruby dropped back, trying to get more space to overtake where the other rider couldn't so easily cut her off.

A mistake, with Sunset closing in on both of them.

Ruby dropped back, and Sunset caught up just as they came up on another bend, turning to pass beneath the tangled branches of some trees on either side of the track. Sunset braked a little, to avoid the problem that she'd had the last turn, but by this point, she was pretty much level with Ruby, only narrowly in third place, and she could afford to slow down just a little.

Especially since she had the inside of the turn.

A little throttle, and she was in second place, taking one hand off the bars to wave to Ruby as she passed her on the inside.

Ruby was behind, the red-gold rider in front. They put on speed in the straight, and Sunset did likewise. She did not catch up, but nor did any extra distance open up between them.

The rider on the green motorcycle pulled directly in front of Sunset; Sunset drifted to the left and so did they; Sunset drifted to the right and so did they.

There was another ramp up ahead. Inside her helmet, unseen, Sunset grinned.

The red gold rider made the jump, soaring up into the air, at which point, Sunset swerved inwards, towards the inside edge of the track, and took the jump herself.

She felt her hair stream out behind her, and no doubt, her tail would have done so too if Sunset hadn't stuffed it into her pants — she didn't want to worry about it getting caught in the wheel — as she took flight, wishing that she hadn't had the visor down so that he could have felt the wind on her face.

Of course, she would have felt the dirt on her face the rest of the time, but still.

There was another turn just past the jump, or rather, just past the point at which most riders going a decent speed would land from the jump, and the rider in red-gold was already turning in the air, twisting round so that they would land ready to make the turn.

But they miscalculated and landed badly, the wheels slipping out from underneath the motorcycle as the rider hit the ground, skidding across the earth like a stone over water, coming to rest right in Sunset's path.

There was no doubt about it in Sunset's mind: if she landed, she was going to hit that other rider, whoever they were. There was no way she could avoid it.

She teleported, carrying her motorcycle with her in a flash of green light, reappearing with a crack on the other side of the fence, turning sideways to skid across the grass, tearing it up, churning the soil beneath as she slewed to a stop.

Sunset teleported again, reappearing on the track, standing over the fallen ridden and their motorcycle, kneeling down to grab them both.

A third teleportation brought all three of them beyond the track, safe from harm, as Ruby made the jump, turning with expert skill and roaring off down the track.

Sunset whooped. "Go on, Ruby!" she yelled, rushing to the fence, following the fire and the edge of the track, trying to keep Ruby in sight as she raced ahead of the rest of the pack, handling her motorcycle like a pro, mastering every twist and turn before crossing the finish line well ahead of anyone else.

As Ruby came to a halt, Sunset rushed up to her.

"Congratulations, Ruby!" she cried. "You were amazing out there."

Ruby was beaming brightly as she pulled off her helmet. "Thanks," she said. "You were good too; what happened out there? I saw you teleport, but—"

"The rider ahead went down; I would have hit them if I hadn't done something," Sunset explained. "I got myself out, and then I got them out."

Ruby winced. "It's great that no one got hurt," she said, "but it's pretty unlucky, though."

"It is what it is," Sunset said. "Congratulations!"

"Yeah, congrats," came a voice, a girl's voice, but on the deeper side.

Sunset turned around to see the rider in the red-gold jacket, now with her helmet off to reveal a faunus girl with squirrel ears — hitherto hidden beneath her helmet — sticking up from out of her brown hair, which was worn in a pixie cut and dyed luminescent blue at the tips. She had a couple of piercings in her nose and more in her ears, both human and squirrel.

"You were both really good out there," she said. "And I'm not just saying that because you didn't hit me. You do this a lot?"

"Not really," Ruby replied.

"Maybe you should start," she said. She thrust out one hand. "I'm Leaf, by the way, Leaf Kelly."

"I'm Ruby Rose."

"Sunset Shimmer."

Leaf shook both their hands in turn. "Nice to meet you. Like I said, congratulations on the win."

"Thank you," Ruby said.

"You weren't bad yourself," Sunset said.

"Not bad? I'm good," Leaf declared. "I'm more than good; I can be great sometimes; I just got unlucky." She paused. "You said you don't do this very often, but I can't believe that this is your first time on motorcycles."

"My sister taught me," Ruby explained.

"I taught myself," Sunset said. "I haven't had the opportunity to ride much recently, but I've got my own bike out in the yard."

Leaf smiled. "Then why didn't you ride that in the race?"

"I wasn't sure it would be allowed; it's not exactly the same kind of model as these dirtbikes."

"Some kind of road model?" Leaf asked.

"It's … something of a hybrid," Sunset replied.

"She built it herself," Ruby interjected.

"And I'm not ashamed of that!" Sunset declared. "It wasn't as though I had a lot of choice in my circumstances."

"That sounds pretty cool," Leaf said. "So you're a mechanic, as well as a rider?"

"Of necessity, to an extent," Sunset explained. She pointed to Ruby. "This one is the real gearhead."

Ruby nodded. "I used to help my sister take care of her bike," she said, "and, well … it's nice to get your hands dirty sometimes. Nuts, bolts, wrenches … they're easy to understand. Easier than people."

"I hear that," Leaf agreed. "Bikes are definitely easier than people." She looked away from them, towards a woman on whose face the cares of the world seemed to sit almost as heavily as they did on Lady Nikos, although more in the hollowed out face and sunken cheeks than in her hair; that was yet untouched by grey. She was watching Leaf, albeit she seemed to be trying to pretend that she wasn't watching. She looked back at Sunset and Ruby, folding her arms across her chest. "So, can I see this hybrid of yours?"

Ruby gave a little smile, and the slightest giggle passed her lips.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "And what are you sniggering at, Ruby Rose? Of course you can see my bike; I drove it here; like I said, it's just outside."

Sunset led the way, with Leaf and Ruby following behind her, passing through the club room — a dark space, with wooden walls and a bar set up against the back room — outside to where the cars and bikes that people had used to get here were all parked. Sunset's bike was parked near the front, in all of its mismatched glory.

"Here she is," Sunset proclaimed, gesturing to her bike with one hand.

Leaf blinked. "Wow," she said.

"I know, right," Ruby agreed.

"That is—"

"A beauty, isn't she?"

Leaf laughed. "That is the ugliest piece of engineering I have ever seen."

Sunset's mouth opened, but no words emerged. "That," she began. "That is…" She huffed. "Everyone's a critic. She may not look the prettiest, but she gets the job done."

"I mean, credit where credit's due, you put this together yourself, and it looks like you got everything to fit together in such a way that it works," Leaf said as she walked closer to Sunset's bike, circling it to get a look at it in the round. "Which, you know, impressive. Especially considering that there are, like, parts from twenty different models and manufacturers in here. Why didn't you use more consistent parts?"

"My circumstances didn't exactly allow for a lot of choice," Sunset muttered.

Leaf looked up into Sunset's eyes. "This is junkyard salvage, isn't it?"

Sunset didn't say anything.

"Sorry, I didn't…" Leaf trailed off. "I know what it's like to not be able to have everything that you want. At least, I used to, my stepdad…" She hesitated. "Anyway, that was a cool move you pulled, getting yourself off the track and then me; I've never seen anything quite like it. What was that?"

Sunset glanced at Ruby. "That … was my semblance."

Leaf's green eyes widened. "Your…" She looked from Sunset to Ruby and then back again. "Are you huntresses?"

"Sort of," Ruby replied. "We're students up at Beacon Academy."

Leaf gasped. She clasped her hands together above her chest. "Oh, wow!" she cried. "Oh … oh, wow! This is … wow. This is incredible! This is … sorry, I'm babbling aren't I? I don't really know what I'm supposed to say, should I go?" She came to a sort-of attention, and gave a sort-of salute, and her voice dropped a little in an impression of a manly, martial voice as she said, "Thank you for all your service."

Ruby grinned. "You'd only need to say that if we were all Atlesian. Or Atlas students."

"Really, I should start practicing then," Leaf replied. "But what do I say to you two?"

"You've already been doing it," Ruby assured her. "You don't need to stand on ceremony with us."

"Really?" Leaf asked. "But you're huntresses!"

"We're students," Sunset reminded her.

"Even so, that's…" Leaf paused. "What are two huntresses, or students, whatever, doing at the Blue Warthogs?"

"Having fun?" Ruby asked. "We wanted to do something cool, and Sunset has a bike, and Yang — that's my sister — taught me how to ride, so … why not?"

"If you say so," Leaf said softly. She pulled a pack of cigarettes, only slightly squashed, out of her pocket. She offered it to Sunset. "You want one?"

Sunset shook her head. "No, thank you."

"Ruby?"

"She won't have one either," Sunset said, before Ruby could.

Leaf smirked. "Are you her mom or something?"

"I probably shouldn't," Ruby said. "I'm only fifteen."

"'Fifteen'? I was smoking twenty of these a day when I was fourteen," Leaf muttered. "I started when I was twelve. Go on, try one; you might like it."

"No," Sunset said firmly.

Leaf seemed like a decent person, a good sport — and a good sportswoman, who knew how to handle a bike — but smoking, in Sunset's opinion, was a habit for plebs and losers. It was, to Sunset's mind, what you turned to when you'd given up; you couldn't accomplish anything meaningful, you couldn't matter, you couldn't be anybody worthwhile so you stuck something in your mouth and set fire to it and let the drugs make you feel like you were winning — until you came back down to the reality that you weren't.

Sunset had been tempted, back at Canterlot, sometimes. It would have been easier.

It would have been an admission of failure.

She had no intention of letting Ruby go down that road; especially since she had no need — absolutely no need — to do so.

"Okay, okay," Leaf conceded. She pulled a single cigarette out of her packet, and stuck it in her mouth, holding it there with her teeth while she pulled a lighter out of her other pocket and lit the cigarette up. Smoke rose lazily from the burning tip of the cigarette before Leaf gripped it with her fingers, blowing a wave of smoke out of her mouth.

Sunset kind of wished that she was a pegasus, so that she could have conjured a gentle breeze to blow the smoke away from her and Ruby.

"I suppose you have to be good girls up at Beacon, huh?" Leaf asked.

"Not necessarily good girls," Sunset murmured. "But we do have to keep our bodies in good condition."

Leaf gave a sort of nodding, head tilting gesture. To Ruby, she said, "So, you're only fifteen?"

Ruby nodded. "That's right."

Leaf frowned. "I thought Beacon only started at seventeen."

"It does," Ruby replied. "I … got let in early."

"Really?" Leaf asked. "How did you manage that?"

"I … stopped a couple of bad guys from robbing a dust store," Ruby said, sounding almost as if she were admitting to doing something wrong. "Me and Sunset did, that's how we met. Professor Ozpin — he's the—"

"Headmaster up at Beacon, yeah, I know; I don't live under a rock," Leaf said.

"He showed up afterwards and offered me a shot at his school," Ruby explained.

"Cool," Leaf said, smiling. "So, are you both fifteen?"

"I'm eighteen; I was already on my way to Beacon when I met Ruby and got involved in this robbery she mentioned," Sunset told her.

"Right," Leaf said. "So are you two on the same team together, or are you just friends?"

"We're teammates," Sunset explained. "Team Sapphire."

Leaf's eyes narrowed. "S something-something R?"

"S-A-P-R," Sunset replied.

"I'll remember that, and I'll cheer for you when the Vytal Festival starts," Leaf said softly.

"Thanks," Ruby said.

Sunset snorted. "You say you haven't been living under a rock, but you haven't heard of Team Sapphire already?"

Leaf's eyebrows rose. "Ought I have heard of you?"

Ruby glanced at Sunset, clasping her hands together in front. "Well, we … we have done some stuff."

"We helped foil a massive dust robbery at the docks a few months ago?" Sunset suggested. "We helped catch Roman Torchwick?"

"And we fought at the Breach," Ruby added. "Well, I didn't, but Sunset, Jaune, and Pyrrha did — they're our other teammates."

Leaf stared at them, her gaze flickering between the two of them. "Okay, I don't really pay much attention to the news, although I might have to start." She took a drag on her cigarette. "I thought students at Beacon were supposed to learn how to be huntresses, not to … be actual huntresses."

"I can see why you might think that," Sunset said.

"We didn't always have permission for all the stuff we did," Ruby admitted.

"We did for most of the big stuff," Sunset insisted. "And for the stuff that didn't, most of the time, that was trouble finding us, not the other way around. We've gotten to skip ahead a little on account of our skills, which are in more than just motorcycle riding."

Leaf nodded. She took another drag on her cigarette, blowing the smoke between Ruby and Sunset, before she said, "Was it hard to get into Beacon? I suppose I'm asking Sunset more than Ruby, considering that … foiling a robbery might not have been hard, but finding one probably was."

Ruby chuckled. "I did get … lucky, I guess. You might not think so at the time, but if I hadn't gotten caught in that robbery, then I never would have gotten into Beacon, so … yeah, I got lucky."

Leaf sighed. "I wanted to go to Beacon," she admitted. "I wanted to go to combat school, but my mom wouldn't let me."

"Of course I wouldn't!" cried the woman that Sunset had seen earlier, the one with the hollow cheeks and the face that looked like it had been worn down by the world. Her hair was black and free from greys, worn in a bowl cut around her face; she was dressed in a grey jumper that was a little too big at the sleeves and black pants splattered with paint of various colours.

She stormed out of the club to join the three kids, followed slightly after by a man, bald and dark-skinned, and two children of his complexion, a girl about Leaf's age and a younger boy, at least a year younger than Ruby, maybe more.

The worn-out looking woman snatched the cigarette from Leaf's mouth and threw it to the ground, stamping on it with one booted foot.

"I've told you not to smoke; it's disgusting," she snapped. "And of course I didn't let you go to combat school, or to Beacon; it's dangerous! You could die! People die; someone died, didn't they, a boy, at the Breach?"

"Yes," Sunset murmured, looking down at her booted feet as she felt an icy fist grip her stomach. "Sky Lark. His name was Sky Lark."

"Yes, it is dangerous," Ruby agreed. "But … but it's a worthy cause; it's the worthiest cause—"

"I don't care how worthy it is, and I don't need you to encourage this!" Leaf's mother snarled, rounding on Ruby, pointing her finger in Ruby's face. "I didn't ask you what you thought; I don't even know who you are!"

"Now, hang on a second, ma'am," Sunset said, stepping between Ruby and Leaf's mother, putting her arm out to shield Ruby from the woman's anger. "Ruby didn't really say anything—"

"I don't need anyone encouraging these stupid ideas!"

"They're not encouraging anything," Leaf said. "We were just talking."

"Just talking," Leaf's mother said. "Just talking about Beacon, about things that we have already decided—"

"We didn't decide anything; you decided—"

"I am your mother—"

"And I'm a person; I'm eighteen years old; when do I get to start having my own life?"

"When you can be trusted to do something sensible with it," Leaf's mother cried. She glared at Sunset and Ruby. "I think you should go."

Sunset looked around theatrically. "We haven't done anything!"

"Ash," the man said, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Ash, calm down. It's okay. It's going to be okay. It's not their fault. They were just talking, right?"

Sunset folded her arms. "We weren't trying to inveigle Leaf into Beacon, if that's what you mean," she said, a touch of sourness in her voice. "It's not for us to say who gets in, or who tries to."

"It's Leaf's—" Ruby began, before Sunset shushed her. Leaf's mother — Ash — was clearly not in the mood to hear about Leaf's choices right now.

The man looked at Leaf, "Leaf, maybe you should—"

"You're not my dad," Leaf snapped.

"Leaf!" Ash cried.

Leaf sighed and turned away, stomping off, her boots thumping into the pavement.

An awkward silence descended.

"I think we should go," Sunset murmured, placing a hand on Ruby's shoulder and starting to steer her towards Sunset's bike.

"I … yeah," Ruby said softly. "Yeah we probably should."

Sunset didn't particularly feel like remaining in the circumstances, nor was she certain that they would be welcome. However, when they returned to the bike, she didn't start it off, but began to walk it out of the carpark and down the side of the street, pushing it down the road while she walked beside it.

"Um, Sunset?" Ruby asked. "You know that bike has a motor, right?"

Sunset chuckled. "Yes, Ruby, I know that the motorbike has a motor."

"Then why?" Ruby began.

"Because I don't want to go straight back to Beacon yet; it's too early," Sunset said. "But I haven't figured out where I want to go just yet, so I'm walking the bike to give me extra time to think it over."

"Okay," Ruby said, walking on the other side of Sunset's bike. "Well, we could … we could go get something to eat?"

Sunset looked at her. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Where?"

"Hmm," Ruby murmured. "How about—?"

"Hey!" Leaf cried, running after them down the road. "Hey!" she shouted again, catching up quickly, for all that it left her out of breath and doubled over, hands on her knees. She gulped in air, her chest rising and falling. "Hey," she said, for a third time. "You're leaving so soon. I was hoping to get another match in."

"I wasn't sure that we'd be welcomed," Sunset said.

"My mum doesn't own the club, and neither does my stepdad," Leaf insisted. "Come on, you have to let me earn my pride back."

Sunset looked at Ruby. "What do you think?"

"It is kind of soon to be leaving," Ruby said. "And I didn't really want to."

"And you're sure—"

"It's not a problem," Leaf said. "I swear."

So they went back and actually raced two more times, enough for both Sunset and Leaf to take a win, at which point, they decided that it was probably best to leave it there with the honours even between them.

"Thanks for coming back," Leaf said. "I'm glad I got the chance to beat you both once, even if I had to lose to you twice combined." She paused. "And I'm sorry about my mum. She can be…"

"Difficult?" Sunset suggested.

"Awful," Leaf said.

"That's harsh," Sunset said.

Leaf boggled at her a little. "You were there in the car park, right? You heard how she acted?"

"She's concerned about you," Sunset said mildly.

"And so that gives her the right to decide what I can and can't do, to control me?" Leaf demanded.

Yes, was the blunt answer, but Sunset guessed it would also be the unwelcome one, so she simply said, "It's not my place to say."

"You were right," Ruby said. "It's your life; it should be up to you what you do with it."

"Thank you, Ruby," Leaf said. "There, you see? Ruby gets it. How did your mum feel about you going to Beacon at just fifteen."

Ruby glanced away. "My mom … my mom is…"

"Oh," Leaf murmured. "Oh, gods, I'm sorry," she reached out and put a hand on Ruby's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," Ruby said. "You didn't know; you didn't mean anything by it. I know that you wouldn't mean anything by it; I mean, your dad—"

"My dad isn't dead," Leaf said. "He might as well be, but he isn't. Mum just left him for 'Daniel.' Anyway, I'm sorry, but thank you, for being on my side, for getting it. Does someone try and tell you what to do? Your sister?"

"No," Ruby said, "Sunset does."

Sunset let out a spluttering sound. "That is … why would you—?"

Leaf folded her arms. "Ah, okay, that explains everything."

"What does that mean?"

"The way that you act, the way that you make excuses for mum," Leaf said.

"I do not … the fact of the matter is that, sometimes, other people know best," Sunset insisted. "And it's childish to pretend otherwise."

"We should still be allowed to make our own choices, even if they are mistakes," Leaf insisted. "Maybe I would have died if I'd gone to Beacon, but like Ruby said, at least I'd be dying for something. I wouldn't be stuck here with nothing but riding a bike as the highlight of my life."

Ruby took one of Leaf's hands in her own. "So what are you going to do about it?"

"Ruby," Sunset murmured, worried they were coming dangerously close to what Ash had wrongly accused them earlier, encouraging Leaf's rebellion.

"Can you keep a secret?" Leaf asked. She looked at Sunset. "Can you?"

I should hope so; I'm keeping enough already. "Yes," Sunset murmured

"You can trust us," Ruby added.

Leaf nodded, yet still took a moment before she spoke again. "I'm leaving," she said. "I'm going to Atlas. I've… Well, Daniel isn't going to miss that lien anyway; he won't even notice it's missing. Anyway, I've got my airship ticket, I've got a place lined up to doss for a couple of days—"

"And then what?" Sunset demanded. "What happens when your stolen money runs out?"

"I'll have found a job by then," Leaf said, with what seemed to Sunset to be rather undue blitheness.

Sunset folded her arms. "Take it from me: being down and out in Atlas with no funds and nowhere to go is no fun at all. Do you at least have a friend in Atlas?"

"I told you, I'm going to get a job," Leaf insisted. "There's always work in Atlas; everyone knows that."

Maybe Everyone doesn't know as much as they think they do. "That," Sunset said, "is rather optimistic of you."

Leaf shrugged. "That's my choice," she said. "It's my choice to do this, and it's my choice to hope for the best, even if they both turn out to be mistakes."

XxXxX​

"We need to tell her mother," Sunset declared.

Sunset and Ruby were in A & P, sitting downstairs, near the back of the lower room; they were the only people in there, and since they were downstairs, there wasn't even the new girl behind the counter able to hear what they were talking about.

Ruby sighed. "We can't tell her mom, Sunset."

"Why not?" Sunset demanded.

"Because we promised we wouldn't!"

Sunset folded her arms. "So, if Leaf had confessed to us that she was going to buy some dust and blow up a shopping mall, should we keep quiet about that, too, just because we promised?"

"Come on, Sunset, that's a ridiculous comparison!" Ruby cried.

"Why?" Sunset asked. "What's the difference?"

"Because in only one of those examples would Leaf be killing someone!"

"It'll kill her mother when she disappears without a word," Sunset muttered.

"Not literally," Ruby pointed out.

"Okay, no, but why does physical harm excuse breaking a confidence but emotional harm doesn't?"

"Because physically hurting people is … it's physical, it hurts people," Ruby insisted. "Can you really not see a difference?"

"I don't see why we have an obligation to sit here and watch someone make a terrible mistake just because we pinkie swore," Sunset said firmly. "Especially since we didn't even pinkie swear; we just promised. I mean … do you really not see anything wrong with this? At all?"

Ruby dug her spoon into her chocolate cookie sundae, pulling it out covered in ice cream and fragments of chocolate cookie. She stuck spoon and sundae both into her mouth and masticated the ice cream for a few seconds before swallowing. "It's like Leaf said, people have the right to make their own choices, even if they make mistakes."

See if you say that when you find out about some of the choices I've made lately. "You sound like Princess Celestia," Sunset muttered, rubbing the gap between her eyebrows with her fingers. "Which, unfortunately, means you might have a point."

"'Unfortunately'?" Ruby asked.

Sunset chuckled. "She and I … discussed this, more than once. I used to think … I suppose since we're now having this discussion, I still do think, at least in part, that … the world would be better off if someone set stricter limits upon the decisions that people could and couldn't make, if the metaphorical parent stepped in more and closed in the walls of the playpen a little bit. I never saw the point in letting the children scrape their knees. I didn't see why someone so wise, who had seen so much, experienced so much, couldn't just … sort it out, you know?"

Ruby was silent for a moment. "And what did Princess Celestia say to that?"

"That it would make her a tyrant," Sunset admitted. "That freedom was more important than perfection or the mitigation of all harms. I … didn't get it."

"Sounds like you still don't," Ruby pointed out.

"I … as huntresses, aren't we supposed to save people?"

"Not from themselves," Ruby replied.

"What about from the consequences of their actions?" Sunset asked.

"Not from those either," Ruby said.

"Even if those consequences … what if she joins the White Fang because she ended up having such a bad time in Atlas?" Sunset suggested.

"That's a little bit ludicrous, don't you think?"

"Where do you think the White Fang comes from?" Sunset replied.

"What if she joins the White Fang because it's the only way she can get away from her mother?" Ruby countered.

"That's not—"

"It's just as likely!"

"Her mother is not the problem," Sunset insisted.

"Leaf thinks her mom is the problem."

"That's because she's a spoiled little madam with no idea of what she's doing who doesn't appreciate everything that her mother does for her and is about to jump into a situation she can't possibly comprehend!" Sunset snapped.

Ruby was silent for a moment. "Who are we talking about now?"

Sunset sighed. "Yeah, okay. I admit, but … it isn't the mother's fault; it's often the daughter's."

"'Often,'" Ruby said. "Not always."

Sunset picked up her spoon and played with her strawberry sundae without actually eating any of it. She picked up a strawberry slice on her spoon and then let it drop back down into the sundae again.

She closed her eyes. "When … when you woke up," she said. "I … I promised that I would … listen to you more. That I would take what you had to say, your views, seriously. And so … as much as I disagree, if you think that we should let Leaf go through with this, then … then that is what we'll do because … because I respect you and because freedom is the right of all … sentient morons."

Ruby snorted. "Sunset!"

"Sorry, sorry," Sunset murmured. She finally dug some of her sundae out upon her spoon and popped it into her mouth. It was cold upon her teeth. She swallowed. "So we're going to keep silent?"

Ruby was quiet for a moment. "If … if this is what Leaf wants … even if it will hurt her mother, and even if it's kind of a stupid plan—"

"It doesn't even rise to the level of a plan," Sunset said. "It's barely an aim."

"Then I think that we have to respect that, no matter how bad of an idea it is, because … because choices matter."

Yes, they certainly do, don't they? "Fine," Sunset said. "Best of luck to Leaf, then." She paused for a moment. Maybe I'll give Rainbow Dash a call, check in with her that Leaf doesn't end up homeless on the streets of Mantle.

"So … how did your meeting with Professor Ozpin go?"

"That's a change in subject."

"I think we've reached the end of the previous subject, don't you?"

Ruby chuckled. "It … it was fine," she said. "It was really good."

Sunset smiled. "I'm glad," she said. "You don't have to tell me—"

"Mom came from outside the kingdoms," Ruby announced.

Sunset laughed. "But you can if you want to."

Ruby nodded eagerly. Sunset ate her sundae while Ruby kept talking, keeping her eyes fixed on Ruby as she scooped up spoonfuls of ice cream and strawberries and, upon instinct, moved them into her mouth.

"Mom came from the west of Sanus," Ruby continued, "from out beyond the mountains, you know, the place the Great War was fought over? Apparently, there were people living there before Mistral or Vale tried to colonise it—"

"Which time?" Sunset asked, after swallowing.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, Vale tried to colonise beyond the mountains at least three times that I can think of," Sunset explained. "One of them is in The Song of Olivia; that's why they went beyond the mountains, and they were on their way back when the rearguard was attacked. Also an example of choices," Sunset added. "Olivia chose to do the proud thing and not call for help, and that choice got everyone else killed in spite of what they might or might not have chosen."

"I never said she was perfect," Ruby said defensively. "But … what are you saying?"

"I'm not sure," Sunset admitted. "I suppose I was just asking for clarification."

"Does it matter?"

"Not really, sorry," Sunset said. "I can't help it; it's my nerd-brain at work. Again, I apologise; you were saying?"

"Yeah, right, so there were people living there … certainly before the Great War and when the two kingdoms tried to colonise beyond the mountains; maybe they'd always been there, I don't know, but the point is that there were people there before, and there are people living there now still, and my mom was one of them."

"Do they still have contact with Vale?"

"Not much," Ruby said. "Professor Ozpin said that only a few traders go beyond the mountains to deal with them, and it doesn't sound like they have much worth trading for, mostly … old stuff, or stuff that seems old, even if it isn't. Honestly, from what Professor Ozpin said, without him, there might not be any missions over the mountains."

Sunset frowned. "What does Professor Ozpin have to do with it?"

"He gets people to go so that they can spread the word about Beacon and get awesome fighters like my mom to come to school."

"That … okay, yeah, that makes sense," Sunset agreed. "Although, I'm not entirely sure why he bothers; was he hoping to find someone with silver eyes?"

"No, just strong people," Ruby said. "Warriors, raised in a hard land."

"If that's what he wants, why doesn't he look for some Vacuans? They'll go on about how a hard land has made them strong," Sunset muttered. "If that's true, then why is Pyrrha, raised in civilisation and privilege as she was, tougher than any of them? Physically, anyway."

"That's a good point," Ruby conceded. "But my mom was really strong. It's a pity that her diary didn't talk more about exactly where she came from. It doesn't say anything really about where she came from; I had to find out from Professor Ozpin."

"He couldn't tell you more?"

"Mom couldn't tell him more," Ruby replied. "I mean … she couldn't tell him where she came from because she couldn't find it on a map, and it seems like she didn't want to talk about her family much. I think she fell out with her dad about coming to Beacon. I suppose you think she should—"

"I do not necessarily think that she should have stayed at home and done as her father said; I don't know enough of the details to say for sure who was right," Sunset said. "I just think that more people might want to consider that possibly their mom isn't the problem, they are. You could try talking to your father; maybe she told him some things."

"That she didn't tell Professor Ozpin?"

"She might have told her lover things that she didn't want to tell her teacher."

"Maybe," Ruby murmured. "Doesn't mean … I'm not sure how I could talk about this to Dad. Does he know that I know? Does he know that Professor Ozpin is going to tell me this stuff, or was?"

"When did you last speak to him?" Sunset asked.

"A while ago," Ruby admitted. "I … I don't know how. I don't know how to … he knew so much, all this time, about Mom, and about my eyes, about Salem; he knew everything, and he didn't tell me or Yang anything! How could he do something like that?"

It might have been inappropriate in the moment, but the corner of Sunset's lip twitched upwards in a smile. "You know what I'm going to say, don't you?"

"You're going to tell me that he had his reasons, aren't you?"

"I'm sure that he thinks so," Sunset said.

"He doesn't get to control what I do and don't know and make my choices for me just because he's my father or because he thinks that he knows best, no matter why he's doing it," Ruby insisted. "Because when he chooses to do that, he's cramping my style."

Sunset smiled. "Good point," she murmured. "So you haven't spoken to him because you're worried that you'll get mad at him?"

"Partly that," Ruby said. "And partly because I … I'm worried about what he'll say when I ask him about it."

"And you'll stay worried right until you actually have the conversation, at which point … you may find out that it wasn't as bad as you thought that it could be."

"Maybe," Ruby murmured. "I mean, yeah, you're probably right. I'm sure you're right. I should talk to him. I will … sometime. Soon, but not right now."

"No," Sunset agreed. "Not right now. Did you get anything else from Professor Ozpin?"

Ruby hesitated for a moment. "He told me … he told me that my mom killed someone, on her first night in Vale."

Sunset frowned, crinkling her brow; her tail stopped twitching. She put her ice cream back on the table, slipping her hands between her knees and closing said knees upon her hands. She licked her lips. "I'm sure that she had a good reason for it."

"The person she killed was trying to mug her."

"That sounds like a very good reason," Sunset said.

"I know," Ruby murmured. "But…"

"You know that 'heroes don't kill' is just…" Sunset began. "Jaune killed someone, and it doesn't make him a bad person for it, and I know that you'd never suggest otherwise."

"I know, and I wouldn't say anything like that to Jaune, but…" Ruby trailed off for a moment. "Mom was … at least I thought she was…"

Sunset leaned forwards. "What, precisely, is it that you thought she was that she has been proved not to be by defending herself on her first night in a strange place, a new city?"

Ruby took a moment to answer. "She wore a white cloak."

Sunset cocked her head to one side. "Your mother?"

"Yeah," Ruby said. "Like mine, but … well, but it was white, instead of red. In my dreams, in my … I don't know if they're memories or not, but in my mind … whenever I see her, she's wearing that white cloak. And it's spotless."

"I do not know that this proves it was not," Sunset said softly.

"Even with blood on it?"

"Not put there by her own choice," Sunset reminded her. She reached out and put her hands on Ruby's shoulders. "Should she have bared her throat for the knife rather than get her hands dirty? Is that the action of the morally pure? None of what you've told me makes Summer Rose any the less brave or kind or noble. In fact … I would say it makes moreso."

"More?" Ruby asked. "How?"

Sunset snorted. "If I'd been mugged my first night in Canterlot, you wouldn't see me risking my tail to protect anyone."

Ruby smiled. "Yeah, you would."

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "Really? What makes you so sure?"

"You need the recognition," Ruby pronounced.

"Nothing about my virtues then?" Sunset demanded. "You think you know me so well, don't you?" She chuckled. "My point is, even after the first thing that happened to Summer Rose when she got to Vale was that someone tried to part her from her worldly possessions, even after that fine welcome to the big city, she was still determined to become a huntress and protect the world, even after that taste of the world's sourness. That … that is something to be admired, to my mind, more than to be censured. Although I am curious as to how, having arrived in Vale from the middle of nowhere, she made it into Beacon."

"Professor Ozpin was called down to the police station to talk to her, just like he did me," Ruby announced. "And just like me, he offered her a spot."

Sunset nodded. "So you could say that, without that mugger that she killed, you wouldn't be here?"

Ruby shrugged. Again, she paused for a little bit. "I asked Professor Ozpin," she said, speaking quietly. "I asked him what the difference between me and my mom was, that he made Mom the team leader and … and not me."

Now it was Sunset's turn to take pause for a while; there was an obvious question to ask in response to this, but she was not sure if she wanted to ask it.

So instead she asked, "I didn't realise you were jealous."

"I'm not!" Ruby insisted. "I'm really not. Not really. I don't wish that I was the team leader, and I don't think that I should be the team leader, but I do sometimes … I mean, I do wonder what Mom had that I don't, that Professor Ozpin picked her and … and not me."

"Before you pine away too much over what might have been," Sunset drawled, "have you considered what a nightmare it would have been for you, having me as one of your teammates?" She grinned. "Have you considered how absolutely obnoxious I would have been to you if you had been my team leader?"

"You wouldn't—"

"Oh, I would," Sunset assured her. "Entitled, arrogant, I would have loathed getting passed over, especially for someone younger than me. I would have been filled with resentment; I would have made your life an absolute misery." She paused. "You know, saying all that, it's a miracle that Professor Ozpin thought I was leadership material, isn't it?"

"I think Professor Ozpin wanted to give me a break," Ruby replied. "He told me that Mom wore herself out trying to catch up on everything she hadn't learned in Combat School, and leadership classes, and training her silver eyes. That's why he never offered to train my silver eyes; he thought that I was busy enough, and he didn't want to work me too hard. But … but more than that … he told me that he regretted making my Mom the team leader. I think that's why he chose you over me, because looking back—"

"He wishes he'd made Raven the team leader instead," Sunset muttered.

"How did you—?"

"Professor Ozpin has made the comparison to me directly," Sunset explained. "I can't say that I was flattered by it, all things considered."

"He means it like … like a protector," Ruby said.

"I know what he meant," Sunset said. "But all the same, we're still talking about someone who bailed on her team, on her family."

"Nobody thinks that you're going to do that, Sunset," Ruby assured her. "I mean…"

"What?"

Ruby glanced away. "Well … when you went on that mission to Arcadia Lake, when you weren't answering Pyrrha's messages … Yang did get a little…"

"I can't say I blame her, in the circumstances," Sunset said. Especially since I did run away, in a sense. "All the same … it's not the most flattering comparison, or at least, I don't find it so."

"Professor Ozpin gave it a lot more context, when he was talking to me," Ruby insisted. "All the times when Raven was the one to step up, to protect Mom and everyone else: during Initiation, at Ozpin's stand, when they struck at Salem."

"'Struck at—'!" Sunset cried. She closed her eyes, a sigh passing between her lips. "Of course they did. That's what Professor Ozpin was talking about in the tower when he inducted me and Pyrrha, and that … that's what Salem was talking about, wasn't it?"

"I think so," Ruby murmured. "Professor Ozpin thought that maybe Mom could turn Salem to stone with her silver eyes, not kill her, but trap her forever; he thought that maybe that was why Salem had hunted them—"

"'Hunted them'?" Sunset repeated. "Hunted silver eyes?"

Ruby nodded. "That's why we're so rare."

Sunset rolled her own eyes, though they be only green instead of silver. "He kept that quiet, didn't he? And so did you, for that matter."

"Is it important?"

"Is it important that our enemy has been actively hunting down the rare trait which you are known to possess? Yes, it kind of is!" Sunset squawked. "What if she sends someone after you?"

"Who?"

"I don't know; Cinder's still around somewhere, isn't she?!" Sunset yelled. "We could … I don't… honestly, the pair of you!"

"It's not a big deal," Ruby said.

"I disagree," Sunset said. "Profoundly."

Ruby folded her arms. "What would you have done if you'd known this before?"

"I would have had you wear coloured contact lenses."

"Sunset!"

"What? It would have stopped people realising the truth."

"I don't want to hide my eyes!" Ruby cried. "My mom gave them to me."

"Even though it turns out they paint a target on your back."

"I want to be a huntress; my life was never going to be free from danger," Ruby reminded her.

"Sure, but there's a difference between that and … never mind," Sunset huffed. "It's a bit late now anyway; Salem already knows; just … take care, okay. Keep your guard up." She paused. "So … it didn't work, then? Turning Salem to stone?"

"No," Ruby conceded. "Mom tried, but … it didn't work. Raven got them out again."

"I see," Sunset murmured. "That … is a pity. A pity that it didn't work, I mean, not that Raven got them out, obviously."

And she managed to do it without risking anyone else's life in the process.

I've got a way to go to measure up, clearly.

"So how does it feel," she asked, "to know more than you did before?"

"No … no matter what I found out," Ruby said, "finding out the truth is always better than not knowing."

Sunset had to resist the urge to clutch her heart as Ruby stabbed her through it.

If only, if only that were true.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Hate Without Measure​

The engine of Sunset's motorcycle purred pleasantly as Sunset — with Ruby sat behind her, arms wrapped around Sunset's waist — drove up the road back into Beacon.

The sky was dark above, and the moon was out; they'd gone to see the new I-Spy picture at the movies, and it had only just finished.

Said cinematic experience was the subject of discussion as Sunset parked her bike outside the team garage.

"I have to say," she said as she took off her helmet and shook her long hair free, "that I'm not surprised that movie theatres are dying on the basis of that standard of service. They hadn't even cleaned the place up after the last showing; there was spilt popcorn on the floor from whoever had been in there last."

"It wasn't that bad," Ruby replied as she leapt down from Sunset's bike.

"I should be able to watch a movie without also having to watch where I'm putting my feet," Sunset insisted.

Not for the first time since leaving the theatre, she checked the soles of her boots. There had been some very sticky patches on the floor.

"Okay, fine, it could have been better, but what did you think of the film?" Ruby asked.

Sunset thought for a moment. "That was a weird title sequence, wasn't it? It was a cool song, but some of the places those octopus tentacles showed up … it made me wonder what sort of movie this was."

Ruby sniggered. "Yeah, the music for those movies is always cool, but the title sequences … yeah. Dad used to fast forward past them when we watched them when we watched them at home. He said we were too young."

"I think you might still be too young," Sunset muttered. "Still, it was good fun. I was surprised Ruby Roundhouse wasn't in it more; you said she was huge."

"She is huge," Ruby insisted. "Maybe that's why they couldn't get her for more than one action sequence. Still, I liked it. It's good to have the old style back; the last couple of these movies were too serious, they forgot to have any fun."

"Are they usually like that, then?" Sunset asked. "Secret conspiracies and supervillains with tentacles all over Remnant? And Vale as somehow a great power?"

"It is a Valish movie," Ruby reminded her. "And Vale is one of the four kingdoms; it's not like we're little."

"The climax of that film involved the Valish fleet sailing to attack Atlas as part of the villain's machinations." Sunset pointed out.

"Okay, that probably wouldn't happen," Ruby conceded.

"Although First Councillor Emerald probably wishes it could," Sunset muttered.

"You think so?" asked Ruby. "You really think he wants to start a war?"

"No," Sunset conceded. "I don't think he wants to start a war, although I don't think that he always thinks about … I'm not sure that his decision making always takes account of what is … the most effective decision he could take for the best interests of his people."

Ruby frowned. "What makes you say that?"

Sunset realised with a chilling sensation in her stomach that she had given away rather more than she should have, given that her meetings with the First Councillor were something that Ruby did not and could not know about. "I … it's, uh … it's an impression that I've formed from observing him and his decisions."

"Really? I think you're being kind of hard on the guy," Ruby said. "I don't agree with everything he does, and I probably wouldn't vote for him, but I think he's trying his best."

"You might be right," Sunset conceded. After all, Councillor Emerald had inherited a slew of problems, more than a few of which were of Sunset's making. "All the same, he does want to rearm Vale."

"Mmhmm," Ruby murmured. "That's the thing … like I said, he's trying his best, but that's the reason he wouldn't get my vote."

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "You think that Atlas should have a monopoly on military force?"

"I don't think Atlas should have any military force either," Ruby declared. "I know that Rainbow Dash … General Ironwood is someone else who seems like he's trying his best, and Professor Ozpin must trust him to tell him about…" — Ruby looked around furtively — "Salem, but even so … when the Great War ended and the Last King founded the huntsman academies, no kingdom was meant to have any soldiers."

"Vale has soldiers," Sunset pointed out. "Not many, and possibly not even very good, but it still has them."

"Well, then, it should get rid of those too," Ruby insisted, thereby demonstrating that, whatever the merits or the defects of her argument, she was, at the very least, consistent. "The whole reason why huntsmen and huntresses get to choose their own assignments is so that we can't be used by the kingdoms as tools of their power."

"I get the theory behind it," Subset allowed. "But … even leaving aside the question of whether it's really better that ordinary huntsmen and huntresses should be the ones deciding where they go and when instead of someone who can—"

"See the big picture?" Ruby suggested.

Sunset nodded. "How did you—?"

"Rainbow Dash said that when we talked about this," Ruby informed her.

"And you weren't convinced then, either?" Sunset guessed. "It's not an invalid argument."

Ruby grinned. "You think that because you're a tyrant."

"I … do not regard that as a criticism," Sunset declared haughtily. Her tone softened. "I don't want to play the 'you weren't there' card because it wasn't your fault, but … you weren't at the Breach; we would have been screwed without General Ironwood's fleet."

Ruby was silent for a moment. "Vale has faced grimm hordes before and survived without Atlesian help or a super strong military," she replied. "Ozpin's Stand, where Team Stark made their bones, that was won by huntsmen; the Breach couldn't have been worse than that."

"I couldn't say; I wasn't at Ozpin's Stand," Sunset murmured.

"I'm sure that Councillor Emerald is making what he thinks is the smart choice to keep Vale safe," Ruby allowed. "But what if … what if all the kingdoms built up their militaries, and then Salem manipulated them into going to war with one another? Maybe even a new Great War?"

Sunset frowned slightly. "Like the bad guy in the movie?"

"Just because it's in a movie doesn't mean it's unrealistic," Ruby pointed out. A little laugh, a slightly hollow-sounding laugh, escaped her lips. "It's funny — only sort of not at the same time — that the real world is crazier than anything seen in the movies, and we're some of the only people who know it."

Sunset let out a bark of laughter. "Hah. Yeah, that … that is … while I grant you that the immortal witch is not something that many people here would think of — although my people would hardly bat an eyelid at it — I think that the … agents at Salem's disposal are fewer in number than is the case for the average screen supervillain."

"You think so?"

"I don't know so," Sunset admitted, "but I think that if Salem had an immense room with a huge table inside, and there was still only room for her top operatives to sit there, then Professor Ozpin would have a hard time dealing with her with just … well, assuming the Professor wasn't lying to me, it was just your uncle until recently, and even now, it's just us and Rosepetal and sort of Blake. It's a small group, but since Professor Ozpin seems to get away with it, then it stands to reason that Salem's forces must be pretty few in number too. It might just be Cinder and those that she managed to recruit for herself. I imagine it must be difficult to gather followers when you're a monster trying to destroy the world, and nobody even knows you exist."

"Makes sense," Ruby allowed. "Although that means that…"

Sunset blinked. "What?"

"That means that most of the bad stuff that goes on in the world, most of the evil, is nothing to do with Salem at all."

"True, but is that a bad thing?" Sunset asked. "Isn't it better than the alternative that every bad thing is Salem's doing?" Her voice slipped into an imitation of the villain from the movie they had just come from. "'It was me. It was always me. I was the author of all your pain.'" Sunset remembered that Salem really was the author of all of Ruby's pain — at least unless she found out about some of the things Sunset had done — and winced. "Ruby, I—"

"It's okay," Ruby assured her. "I get it."

"Thanks," Sunset said, nodding. "As for your point, about the military … you've got a point."

It was probably the best point that could be made against the rearming of the kingdoms; it was possibly the point that the Last King had had in mind when he decided that disarmament and huntsmen were the way to go. Had the Last King known about Salem? There seemed to be a connection between the circle of opposition to her and the academies; could it have been so all along? Had the Last King been one of their predecessors?

Would Professor Ozpin tell her if she asked him?

In any case, Salem's power to subvert the defences of the world was probably the best argument against having such defences. Whether it was a good enough argument … she did not know.

"But since hardly anyone knows about Salem," Sunset went on, "it's not surprising that they make decisions that she might take advantage of. Consequence of secrecy."

"Right," Ruby murmured. "Do you think it would be better if it wasn't a secret?"

"No," Sunset replied immediately. "Do you?"

"Not definitely, but maybe," Ruby said. "Why do you sound so sure?"

"Because I like the idea of being privy to special knowledge."

Ruby folded her arms. "I'm being serious."

"So am I," Sunset admitted. "But, to be … not more serious, but less selfish … Still no."

Ruby frowned, and kept her arms crossed as she said, "And less selfishly, why not?"

"Because you don't know how people would react," Sunset said. "What if they took it badly, what if they freaked out?"

"What if they didn't?" Ruby replied. "What if everyone rose to the occasion?"

"The reward isn't worth the risk," Sunset said. "At least, not in my eyes. And besides, even if they took the news brilliantly well, people would still demand punishment for the likes of Professor Ozpin who has lied to them for so long."

"It would be pretty hard to forgive," Ruby acknowledged. "Lying for so long, about something so serious."

"Mmm," Sunset murmured wordlessly, her voice strained and a little strangled-sounding. "Do you, uh, do you want to go back to the dorm room?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Okay, I'll just put this away," Sunset said. She got out her scroll and used it to open up the garage door, which ground upwards with a rumbling of its motor and a rattling of the metal.

Sunset pushed her motorcycle inside and rested it beside the wall.

Afterwards, as the garage door rumbled shut behind them, Sunset and Ruby walked back towards the dorm room.

Beacon was quiet at the moment, at this time of night, at this time of year, with so many other students out of school and those that were in not being out and about on school grounds after dark. Sunset and Ruby did not come across, nor catch sight of, any other students — or any teachers either, for that matter — until they reached the statue of the huntsman and huntress that dominated the centre of the great courtyard.

Arslan Altan was waiting there, reading or watching something on her scroll.

"Arslan?" Sunset said. "I'm sure there must be more comfortable places to do that."

Arslan looked up, and shortly thereafter got up, putting her scroll away as she did so.

"Hey, you two," Arslan said. "Do you know where Pyrrha is?"

"She's not here right now," Ruby said. "Did you need her for something?"

"When you say 'she's not here,'" Arslan said, "what does that mean, exactly?"

"She's gone with Jaune to the little village he calls home to visit his family," Sunset explained.

Arslan's eyebrows rose. "She's got the 'meet the parents' trip already?" She grinned. "Doing well, isn't she? Not taking things slowly, either."

"What's the point in taking things slowly if you already know the destination, I suppose," Sunset replied.

"I guess," Arslan said. "She really is certain, then?"

"Was there any doubt?" asked Sunset.

"I guess not, but … I think there are a few in Mistral still holding out hope that this is all just a passing fancy. Still, best of luck to P-Money, I suppose. She's better off there than here."

"Why?" asked Ruby. "Why were you looking for her?"

"Because Phoebe's looking for her; she's on the warpath," Arslan explained. "I don't know what happened today, but she came back from Vale in a lather about something, and she's been storming up and down looking for Pyrrha, demanding to know where she is. She treated me as though I was hiding her somewhere. Speaking of which, you might want to hide yourselves, or she'll come after you on the grounds that you must know where Pyrrha is."

Sunset put her hands on her hips. "And nothing at all, nothing at all, to indicate why she wanted to know?"

"No, just a lot of angry muttering that meant I wouldn't have told her where Pyrrha was even if I had known."

"I wouldn't want to disturb Pyrrha and Jaune," Sunset agreed, "but Phoebe's basically harmless, at least to Pyrrha."

It was certainly true that Phoebe had a vicious streak, and that her cruelty towards Cinder was a good part of the reason why Cinder Fall existed, but Cinder had been a child at the time. The same Phoebe had failed to best Pyrrha even once, and the same Phoebe had not dared to try and face Sunset, not even in a contest for Soteria, her family heirloom, but rather sent a hireling to do battle in her place.

Even if she found out where Pyrrha was, what was she going to do about it?

"She's harmless in the arena," Arslan replied. "But…"

"But what?" asked Ruby.

Arslan shrugged. "Contestants in the tournament circuit are vetted, so clearly, they couldn't prove anything wrong, anything that made her an improper person, but … there are all kinds of rumours."

"I've heard one or two myself," Sunset agreed.

"Then you know I wouldn't want to run into her in a back alley with no aura," Arslan said. "She's got more ways to fight than in arenas or tournaments, and right now, she seems to be intent on picking a fight, so watch yourselves and tell Jaune and Pyrrha the same when they get back."

"Will do, thanks," Sunset said. She paused for a moment. "How long were you waiting out here to tell us that?"

"I … wasn't waiting out here for you!" Arslan insisted, not very convincingly. "I don't care that much, I was just... just be on your guard, okay? Until she calms down, at least. Anyway, I'll see you around." She turned away and began to walk towards the dorms housing the Haven students."

"Thank you!" Ruby called, waving to her with one hand. "We appreciate it!" She looked up at Sunset. "What do you think that's about?"

"Phoebe doesn't like Pyrrha," Sunset pointed out. "She isn't all that fond of me either."

"Yeah, but Arslan seems to think that this is something different," Ruby pointed out.

"Maybe it is," Sunset said. "But we'd have to run into her to find out for sure, and I wouldn't seek out her company at the best of times."

She hesitated. She was not afraid of Phoebe Kommenos, despite knowing the other girl's capacity for cruelty. Phoebe was vicious, or had been; there was no kind way of saying it. There was a reason why Cinder had been frozen by Phoebe's mere presence. But at the same time, Sunset was not a child. She's not helpless before Phoebe as Cinder has been in her youth; none of them were, not even Jaune.

And so, despite knowing full well what Phoebe was capable of, Sunset did not fear her. There were others, and other things, more horrifying for her to fear instead.

Yet at the same time, there was no point inviting conflict.

"Let's just do as Arslan suggested, try and stay out of Phoebe's way," Sunset said. "That's advisable in any circumstances." She chuckled at her own wit. "Come on, let's get back to the dorm room."

XxXxX​

Within her own dorm room, in the dorms allocated to the visiting Atlas students, Phoebe Kommenos sat on her bed and brooded.

Her mood was black. It had been so ever since her encounter with Tempest Shadow and … and who? And what? Something had happened today but she … she struggled to recall just what had happened.

She was not the only one. Mal, the idiot, could not remember anything, but that was to be expected: she was only a faunus, after all, and racially condemned to stupidity. Faunus possessed a certain brute strength, but they were temperamentally unsuited for education, as was proven even by those like Rainbow Dash who were held up as paragons of their kind. Mal was, however, useful for fetching, for carrying, for helping her dress, for attending on her in all the ways that she required, and for that, Phoebe could almost forgive the ridiculousness of her being allowed to study at a prestigious academy like Atlas.

In any case, it was completely unsurprising that she remembered nothing, for she was dull-witted and unobservant; it was more concerning that none of Phoebe's friends could remember either.

Nor, most worryingly of all, could Phoebe herself.

Tempest had been there; Tempest Shadow, another of those damn faunus who infested Atlas like rats; Tempest had been there, and then … and then…

And then there had been music. Such music, music as she had never heard before, music which spoke not to her ears but to her very soul.

Music that spoke in passions and in dark desires. Music that knew her. Music that whispered of such things, that prodded at the old wounds, that stirred up the eternal enmities.

Music that had roused from darkness the black mood that sat upon her presently.

She was sad and angry in equal measure, and as the sadness and the anger were without cause, so too they were without measure, unlimited.

She hated them. By Seraphis and Tithys and Amphitrite and Erechthonious the keeper of the underworld, she hated them.

She hated Pyrrha. It was all Pyrrha's fault, all Pyrrha's doing; ever had the Nikos heiress conspired to thwart her, to shame and to humiliate her. It was Pyrrha who had made Phoebe a laughingstock in Mistral, left her bereft of fans, marginalised her on the circuit.

"Would it could be proven that some malicious spirit had crept into my house and to Hippolyta's and switched the slumbering infants in their cradles and called my daughter Pyrrha Nikos and hers Phoebe Kommenos."

So had Phoebe's mother said once, ignoring for a moment the fact that Phoebe was three years older than Pyrrha. It had been an unkind cut to say the least.

The unkindest cut of all and all the fault of Pyrrha Nikos.

Pyrrha Nikos. Precious Pyrrha Nikos. Princess Pyrrha Nikos. Gallant, skilled, and mighty Pyrrha Nikos. Fair Pyrrha Nikos, and all the more fair for being — reputed as she was — fairer than the word in wondrous virtues.

Turnus loves her fair, oh, happy fair! Oh, hated fair, oh, much despised and loathed fair!

Oh, most ungrateful fair who steals the gaze of he whom I so greatly hope shall look on me and yet cares not, bestowing her gaze instead upon some Valish wretch, scorning and dishonouring the worthiest man in all of Mistral.

Oh, how Phoebe longed to pluck out those green eyes and scar that pretty face beyond all recognition.

She would do the same to that faunus, given half the chance.

Sunset Shimmer she hated too. It was not to be borne that a faunus — a faunus! — bore Soteria, the sword of her ancestors which properly belonged to her and which she had, to her undying shame, failed to recover. Now, Sunset Shimmer wore it on her back as though by right, flaunting her good fortune, waving it in Phoebe's face, mocking her with it.

Or else so heedless of Phoebe Kommenos that she cared not either way. That might be worse.

She had cared enough when she had humiliated Phoebe in the duelling ring, defeating her catspaw and her attempt to recover Soteria.

She hated Sunset Shimmer. She hated her for her slights, for her insults, and most of all, she hated her for being a faunus. A faunus who was reputed clever, who walked so confidently, whose looks drew such envious attention, who was talked of with such admiration for her deeds. No faunus had the right to possess such gifts, to transcend ugliness and stupidity and worthlessness.

Yet, she and Pyrrha both were spoken of in the highest tones, how they had thwarted the White Fang, how they had apprehended a notorious criminal, how they had saved Vale.

It was more than Phoebe could take.

The anger was without limit. It was as boundless as the oceans.

It was without recourse.

Phoebe got up off her bed and began to prowl up and down her dorm room. Her teammates Thorn and Lycus, recognising her mood, had absented themselves from the room. Mal waited, cowed, silent until spoken too.

Phoebe paid her little mind. For her mind was fixed upon the objects of her hatred as plots for vengeance whirled about her head.

And yet how? How were her dark desires to be accomplished? She had not — it wounded her to admit it — the skill to strike them down, nor the opportunity to do so unobserved. The same went for hurting them through the weaker members of their team: Phoebe would never get close enough.

It was true that, earlier in the day, when the memory of the music was fresher in her mind, Phoebe had sought out Pyrrha, meaning to face her directly. In that moment, she had felt as though a torch had been ignited in her breast, a fire of fury burning within her, a fire that cried put for battle and bloodshed. She had searched everywhere to challenge Pyrrha, but Pyrrha had not been here.

Pyrrha had slunk away, and now … now the fire had cooled, leaving the embers of her wrath, no less angry than before … but a deal more patient.

If Phoebe had her mouth, she would bite; if she had her liberty, she would do her liking. But she had neither mouth nor liberty, for though she was in General Ironwood's grace, she remained there only so long as she did not trespass openly against the strictures he laid down and the authority by which he enforced them.

But, though it was not yet clear to her how, she would be revenged. She had tried once before, and for her trouble had been roughly handled and threatened by Lightning Dust. But now, Lightning Dust was gone, with the rest of Team Clementine. They had turned out to be anarchists of some sort.

A slow, ugly smile spread across the face of Phoebe Kommenos. Team Clementine were fled. What if they yet had confederates here at Beacon? Cinder Fall and Sunset Shimmer had been thick as thieves, after all.

Would that not be a fine thing: Pyrrha Nikos, the Princess Without a Crown, last heir of the line of Nikos, an enemy of mankind? Would that not set all Mistral weeping?

They had left themselves open to it by Sunset's connection with Cinder. Phoebe would spread rumours, false reports. Pyrrha was the one who was really behind it, her and her mother; they had recruited Sunset Shimmer to their enterprise and bestowed Soteria upon her as a mocking sign of their trust. Then, they had contacted Cinder Fall while in Mistral and pledged to advance their interests together.

It is not the painful or the bloody vengeance I desire, but they have all the glory that should be mine. If I may injure them in any way, I bless myself in every way.

And when Pyrrha's reputation lay in tatters, when she stood revealed for the villain she was, then Mistral would turn to a new hero, someone of good family and impeccable reputation, someone to whom no scandal had attached themselves, someone beautiful and eligible and worthy in all respects.

And everything that Pyrrha had would then be hers.

Phoebe got out her scroll and soon found the number of the editor of The Daily Remnant, one of Mistral's middlebrow journals.

One which, by a staggering coincidence, she happened to own; she had inherited a controlling stake in it from her late mother.

She didn't generally interfere on editorial policy, as much as she wanted to at times; for the sake of keeping her investment profitable, she had to resist the urge to turn the paper into her own personal promotion circular. But now…

Now seemed like the right time for a new approach.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Sunset on Alba Longa​

As the rackety old train pulled into Alba Longa, Sunset stood before the carriage door and pushed down upon the window.

It got stuck, without having descended far enough down that she could stick her head out and see the lock on the other side.

Nevertheless, there was enough room for Sunset to stick her arm through, and so, Sunset did just that, fumbling for the catch that would open the door.

She found it. It, too, was stuck. A scowl settled upon Sunset's face as she waggled the handle fruitlessly, turning it this way and that, trying to get it to move more than a fraction of an inch.

It stubbornly refused to do so.

Sunset huffed, grabbed the case resting on the floor, and teleported out of the railway carriage in a move that would have been the height of showing off if she hadn't been physically trapped otherwise.
It was a good thing no one else seemed to want to get off here.

Although it wasn't necessarily the best advertisement for the town.

Sunset had Sol Invictus slung across one shoulder and a rucksack on the other, with Soteria — worn across her back — sitting between the two. The case in her right hand was light and barely weighed upon her arm.

Sunset had not packed for this visit anything like as extensively as Pyrrha, for the simple reason that she had far less need to make a good impression on Jaune's family, and for the equally simple reason that, unlike Pyrrha, Sunset could be a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl as easily as she could be a frock or gown girl.

Thus, Sunset was not sartorially overburdened; the heaviest items she had brought with her were all the research materials she had in her rucksack, not only plenty of note paper but also Runciman's majestic History of Vale and Bagehot's Peerage, both borrowed from Beacon Library. If she found anything here, it would be useful to have some means of cross referencing it with a respected academic source.

Of course, there was also the need to give thought to the likely possibility that she would find nothing of note. Lady Nikos was expecting Sunset to find something that would be a balm for her embarrassment at Pyrrha's choice of boyfriend, and if there was nothing to find…

That was another reason why Sunset had brought the books with her: if she had to make something up, it would be as well to look vaguely consistent with the real thing.

"Sunset!"

The sound of Pyrrha's voice drew Sunset's attention to just beyond the dead railway station. Pyrrha and Jaune were waiting for her, standing side by side. Another woman — presumably one of Jaune's sisters judging by the physical similarity and the fact that she did not look old enough to be his mother — stood behind them, a little way off.

Sunset waved with her free hand as she made her way across the grass towards them.

Pyrrha was dressed in a gown of green, with a skirt that reached all the way down to the ground, even if it did not spread out very far on either side of her hips. The skirt was a very light, pale shade of red, but the long peplum that descended as low as her knees was a deeper, richer shade. The bodice continued seamlessly from the peplum, embracing her figure until it reached the collar that wrapped around her shoulders but left her arms bare and which was of the sane pale shade as the skirt, save for the rich red camellia that sat in the very centre of the collar. A black choker, from which hung a trio of emerald pendants, was tightly clasped about her throat. Her hair was worn in its usual ponytail, and her circlet gleamed upon her brow.

"You look nice," Sunset said as she approached. "You look … the same," she added to Jaune, who was wearing his hoodie and jeans.

Jaune laughed self-deprecatingly. "Nice to see you, too," he said. "How was the trip?"

"The carriage door stuck," Sunset declared, "but I suppose the view was nice enough if you like that sort of thing."

"Did you and Ruby have a good time without us?" asked Pyrrha.

"Yeah, mainly," Sunset replied. "Although Phoebe is more upset than usual, apparently; something to be aware of when you get back."

Pyrrha frowned. "What happened?"

"I don't know; Ruby and I have been keeping out of her way," Sunset admitted. "Arslan warned us to steer clear, so we did. But anyway, more to the point, how have things been with you two? Have the future in-laws been suitably impressed?"

Pyrrha blushed near as red as her dress, while Jaune chuckled slightly nervously. "It was … a bit of a rough start," he said, "but now, I think that pretty much everyone has accepted that I'm going back to Beacon and that Pyrrha and I are together.

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "Was that ever in any doubt?"

"From me? No," Jaune said. "From parts of my family … kinda."

"I see," Sunset muttered. "But you're not going to get any more trouble, are you? Or are you? You did say 'pretty much everyone.'"

"I meant 'everyone,'" Jaune said quickly.

"Then why didn't you say 'everyone'?" demanded Sunset. "Never mind, if you say it's taken care of, then … I shall soon find out if you're lying, I suppose." She grinned. "But, on the basis that you're not lying: congratulations!"

"Thank you," Pyrrha murmured. She beamed brightly, her while face illuminated by her smile as she said, "They invited me to be in the family photograph!"

"Nice!" Sunset declared. "I never got that; Flash's mother would have rather died than let me anywhere near a family photo. You're well in there." She paused. "You know, usually I would say that Jaune was the lucky one — because, well, because you are the lucky one, no offence — but I have to admit, Pyrrha, you … you're pretty lucky too. You're lucky that your boyfriend's mother doesn't think you're awful, for a start." She smiled.

Pyrrha chuckled as she put one hand upon Jaune's arm. "That is far, far from the extent of my good fortune," she declared, "but I am glad of it, although it seemed like it might be a close call at first."

"I am going to need to hear all the details," Sunset said. "But before that, is there anywhere I can put my stuff?"

"You've got a room over the tavern," Jaune said. "Unfortunately, there isn't room for you to stay at my family's place."

"Fair enough," Sunset said. "Is someone going to lead the way?"

"I'll take you there," the other woman, the one who had been waiting patiently hitherto, stepped forward. She was a little shorter than Jaune — or Pyrrha, for that matter — but her arms were visibly toned as they emerged from beneath the short sleeves of her blue uniform shirt, and she wore a copper badge upon her belt. She thrust out her hand. "Sky Arc, Jaune's sister and the Sheriff of Alba Longa."

Sunset took her hand. "Sunset Shimmer, Jaune's team leader."

Sky nodded. "I'll show you to the Moon — that's the tavern," she explained. "You'll be stuck with my company for a little while; Jaune's taking Pyrrha out on the lake, aren't you Jaune?"

Jaune shifted nervously back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Well, it is beautiful this time of year."

"Very nice, very … traditional," Sunset said. "I certainly won't keep you from that. Lead the way, Sheriff."

"'Sky' will be fine," Sky said, as she turned away. "It's this way."

"I'll see you later, then?" Sunset said to Jaune and Pyrrha.

"Sky will show you the house too," Jaune assured her. "We'll probably be there."

"Okay," Sunset said. "Have fun, and don't ruin that dress falling into the water." She smiled at them, before hastening after Sky Arc.

She swiftly drew level with Jaune's sister, then slowed her pace so that she stayed level instead of pulling out in front in this place that was new to her.

Besides, she had a sense that Sky wished to speak to her.

"So," Sky said, thereby validating Sunset's suspicion, "you're Jaune's boss?"

"I'm his team leader," Sunset said. "Which means, yes, in battle, I am his boss. It also means that I'm responsible for what happens to him."

"And outside of battle?"

"I'm … still responsible, in many respects," Sunset replied.

Sky fell silent for a moment. "Pyrrha … tells me that Jaune has … killed someone."

Sunset swallowed. "Yeah," she acknowledged. "Yeah, Pyrrha … isn't lying about that."

"Could you have done something so that he didn't?"

Sunset was silent for a moment. "I won't claim to be a flawless leader," she said. "I've made mistakes. But when I think about that particular battle, I made the best dispositions I could. and I made the best plan I could. There's nothing I would do differently. Sometimes, in battle, things just happen. It wasn't my intent to inflict that on Jaune, but it does not haunt me as a failure."

"And you?" Sky asked. "Have you ever…?"

Sunset glanced at her. "Killed someone? Rather a personal question, don't you think?"

Sky shrugged. "I'm asking it anyway."

"Obviously," Sunset muttered. She breathed deeply, in and out. "Yes," she half-growled the word.

Sky nodded. "I … I didn't want Jaune to go back to that school."

"That's not your decision to make," Sunset said.

"That isn't what changed my mind."

"Then what did?" asked Sunset.

"One of those grimm," Sky said softly. "First one we've seen around here in years. Generations. Jaune and Pyrrha … I get it now." She paused. "Except there's still one thing that I don't get. Well, two things, actually."
"And what are those?" Sunset asked.

"If you're supposed to be training to fight monsters, then why are you killing people?"

"Sometimes, the people are the monsters," Sunset replied.

"Okay," Sky allowed. "I'll … fine, let's go with that. But more importantly, aren't you supposed to go to school to learn how to do stuff later? Jaune said he fought in some big battle; shouldn't that be what the people who've already graduated do?"

"You might think that," Sunset murmured dryly.

"I'm being serious," Sky insisted.

"Then in all seriousness," Sunset replied, "you can't learn how to fight monsters without actually fighting some monsters, and that means exposing ourselves to unpredictable circumstances; we … we did not intend to take such burdens on ourselves. It just … happened."

Sky was silent a moment. "That's it?"

"If I had a better answer, I would give it to you," Sunset replied.

"Hmm," Sky muttered. "I guess even the best explanation wouldn't make me worry any the less. So I'll just have to accept it, won't I?"

Sunset didn't say anything. There wasn't anything that she could say that was likely to help. Jaune being launched upon this course, perilous though it was, there were no words would make it less perilous. Nor would putting meaning to the peril make it hurt the less.

Sky shook her head. "Anyway, I hear that you're the one who's going to prove that we're all nobles?"

Sunset laughed. "If I can."

"And if you can't?"

"Then I'll make something up."

"Really?" Sky asked incredulously.

Sunset shrugged. "What Lady Nikos wants, above all else, is something that will let her save face in the salons of Mistral. Obviously, some truth would be preferable, but if the truth is not amenable, then lies will serve."

"'Save face,'" Sky repeated. "Because our family isn't good enough for the princess of Mistral."

Sunset cleared her throat. "If I've offended you—"

"It would annoy me if Pyrrha said it," Sky declared. "But I guess if Pyrrha thought that—"

"She wouldn't be dating Jaune in the first place," Sunset finished for her. "The views of the mother are not those of the daughter. Do not hold Pyrrha to account for Lady Nikos' attitudes or opinions."

"Don't worry; I've spent enough time around Pyrrha to take the measure of her," Sky assured her. "She dresses like a princess, but she's not full of herself at all. But what about you?"

Sunset snorted. "I can be full of myself, from time to time."

"I meant," Sky explained, "why are you doing this? Do you think Jaune isn't good enough for Pyrrha?"

"What I think is irrelevant," Sunset said. "I'm not dating Jaune, and I'm not Pyrrha's mother either. But Lady Nikos has been good to me, and if I can repay that with this service, then I will. There is no more to it than that."

Sky's lips twisted for a moment. "Okay. But all the same, what do you think of them?"

"I think he's very lucky," Sunset said. "But … though it is less obvious, so is she. Pyrrha … has found a man to navigate her contradictions."

"What do you mean?"

"Pyrrha wishes to be treated as of herself, not of her reputation," Sunset said. "Loved not for her strength of arms, nor for her noble lineage, but for her spirit. And yet, at the same time, I think she would find it hard to be treated … too ordinarily, to be used for some boy's good time and then thrown away, to be hurt or taken for granted. To be … got into trouble, as they say. Her gentle spirit would not bear it. Jaune … it seems this place has bred a gentleman."

"It's bred a nice boy," Sky said. She frowned. "You know, I'm glad Jaune's dating Pyrrha and not you."

"I'm glad of your gladness at the way things are, but I cannot but suspect an insult to my character."

"The fact that you think being treated like an ordinary girl means being treated badly," Sky said. "For all your leather jacket, you're more stuck up than Pyrrha in her dresses, aren't you?"

Sunset smiled. "Guilty as charged."

Sky huffed. "Anyway. As well as being the Sheriff, I'm also the family expert on the town and its history, so once you're settled in, I'll show you where everything is."

"I'm more interested in the family history than in the town," Sunset said.

"That might not be so easy," Sky replied, "but I'll help you out if I can."

Sunset hadn't been sure what to expect from Jaune's home, but if she had conscious expectations, then she had probably — once she understood that Jaune came from a small town — been expecting something a little like Princess Twilight's Ponyville — which was to say, the Ponyville of Princess Twilight's stories, whatever relationship that might or might not have to the place itself — a small community which nevertheless managed to bustle despite its size, somewhere friendly — perhaps overly so — somewhere … a bit like Jaune himself, really.

What she got were hard stares which verged on hostile and eyes which followed her through the village as though they feared what she might do if left unobserved.

"People here aren't too fond of outsiders," Sky explained.

"And you?"

"It's been … an enlightening couple of days," Sky replied.

Sky showed Sunset the Arc family home, then brought her to the Moon Over Water, the village tavern. From the outside, it looked modest, a two-storey wooden building with a shallow lying slanted roof, looking as much like someone's cabin as a communal space. Inside, it was dark, illuminated by dim red lights which cast the bar and its occupants in harsh, sinister lighting; guitar-heavy country music was playing on the jukebox, and a couple of burly, moustachioed men in denim were playing pool in one corner of the room as Sky led Sunset inside.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at her.

"Hey, Oakie," Sky called. "This here is Sunset Shimmer; she's here for the room I talked to you about."

The man behind the bar had long grey hair and a grey moustache drooping down on either side of his mouth to end up beneath his chin. He said, "Right," and reached beneath the bar to pull out a set of keys on a plastic fob. "Here you go."

He threw the keys at Sunset, who caught them in one hand.

"Thanks," she said. She glanced at Sky. "This place isn't fond of outsiders but you have rooms to let?"

"We do get some visitors," Sky pointed out. "We're still a part of the Kingdom of Vale, after all, and we aren't subsistence farmers either. The tax assessor, the purchaser come to buy our grain and fruit, the travelling merchant … we don't always welcome their presence, but we recognise they need somewhere to stay."

"You the huntress that's gonna keep us all safe?" asked one of the two men playing pool.

"No, this is a friend of Jaune's," Sky said. "There'll be a qualified huntsman along soon enough, but she's not it."

"Shame," the other pool player said. "I wouldn't mind having a huntress around if she was as fine-looking as you."

It was all that Sunset could do not to roll her eyes.

A man at the bar, older than her by more than a few years, muscularly built, with short red hair, glanced her way and looked for a second, before turning away, having said nothing.

"Your room number is on the fob," Sky told her. "And they're upstairs."

There were only four rooms upstairs to choose from, so Sunset could have found the right room by just trying the key in every lock until she found the one it opened — she wasn't even sure that there were any other guests to worry about disturbing — but the number 4 was written on the plastic fob, directing Sunset to the room at the back of the upstairs corridor, nearest the bathroom.

Sunset only had to open the door to see that the rooms did not have en suite facilities. In fact, they barely had anything at all, just a bed surrounded by four wooden walls, a window that Sunset wasn't sure that she trusted to open in this place, and wooden chest at the foot of the bed. That was pretty much it, really.

Still, could be worse.

There might not be a lock on the door.

"It isn't much," Sky admitted. "We don't get—"

"A lot of outsiders, yes," Sunset murmured. "So you've told me." She put down her case on the floor and her rucksack and weapons on the bed.

Sky shut the door behind her. "So," she said, "do you want to get straight to work or do you want to … settle in for a little bit?"

Sunset looked around the sparse and barren room. "'Settle in'?"

"Yeah, good point," Sky said. "Okay, I'll show you to the town archives, but before that…" She smiled. "Are there any embarrassing stories about Jaune that you would care to share?"

Sunset chuckled. "No."

"No, there are no stories, or no, you won't share them?" Sky asked.

"No, I'm not going to embarrass Jaune behind his back," Sunset said.

Sky made a disappointed noise. "We already know about him chasing Weiss Schnee."

"He told you about that?"

"As part of the story of how he and Pyrrha got together," Sky explained.

"Well, if Jaune wants to air his youthful missteps that's fine," Sunset replied, "but as the team leader, I have to show loyalty to my teammates."

"So … no embarrassing stories?"

"No…" Sunset hesitated. "I will tell you one thing, because it's more funny than embarrassing, and because at this point, it will allow me to say something that I need to say."

Sky cocked her head slightly to one side. "Go on."

"Before he came here," Sunset said, "I should add that I heard this from Ruby, our other teammate, but before he and Pyrrha left for here, Jaune was apparently afraid that Pyrrha might leave him for some big strapping local man." Sunset was silent for a moment. "Which I thought was pretty ridiculous, even before I saw the standard of your local men."

Sky folded her arms. "Our local boys aren't that bad!"

"Are you involved with any of them?" Sunset replied.

"No," Sky admitted. "But I … that kind of thing … anyway, let's get you started. All the archives are stored under the Town Hall; I'll show you around, and then … I'm going to have to leave you to get on with it; I do have a job to do here."

"Yeah, that will be fine," Sunset assured her. "As I said before, I'm mostly interested in the family."

"And like I told you, that may not be so easy to find," Sky replied. "I'm not sure that there is anything on the family before Bohemund Arc."

"Who?"

"Our great-great-grandfather," Sky said. "He founded this town."

"And fought in the Great War, yes?"

"That's the one," Sky agreed. "I'll show you his statue before we head to the Town Hall."

Sky led her back out of the tavern and brought her through the village to the statue of her ancestor, Bohemund Arc; the plinth bore no name or inscription, doubtless because this was a small town and everyone already knew who he was.

He certainly cut an impressive figure, mounted upon his warhorse, with Crocea Mors held aloft; standing below, looking up at him, it was easy to see what Jaune had been attempting to become.
But not everyone could be the second coming of their famous ancestors. The world just didn't work like that.

Still, he certainly looked like a good place to start — Sunset had no better ideas — so she allowed Sky to lead her into the dark depths beneath the Town Hall, the most impressive building in Alba Longa by some distance, and there, amongst the shelves and shelves of archives, the records of old ordinances and resolutions debated, passed or defeated, the deeds of the mayors and the results of the elections, Sunset unpacked her notes and her books and started her research with Bohemund Arc.

He was as impressive a fellow as his statue — and the fact that he had been given a statue at all — indicated. He had founded Alba Longa when he was only a young man; according to the records of the Mayoralty, he was only thirty-two when, in response to a humble petition, the King of Vale had granted Alba Longa a town charter, recognising the new settlement as a community with the freedom to administer its own affairs under His Majesty and under the laws of Vale. At that point, Bohemund had been acclaimed as mayor, no other candidates presenting themselves. The town charter had not been granted for a couple of years after the first houses had been built beside the lake, so Bohemund must have started the founding before he was even thirty.

An impressive man, indeed.

After a single term as mayor, he had resigned his office, declaring that said office ought to be bigger than any one man. That was a knock against him as far as Sunset was concerned; she knew that some Remnant historians were inclined to praise the virtue of yielding up power, just as they praised the Last King for abdicating his throne, but Sunset didn't see the point in giving up a position you were good at just because you could. Someone had to rule, after all, and it might as well be someone who had been ruling well thus far as some newcomer who would have to find their feet.

Nevertheless, Bohemund Arc had made that well-intentioned mistake, retiring to his farm and his family, but when the Great War had begun, he had come out of retirement to take up his sword, raising a company of volunteers and placing them at the King's service. By that time, he had been closer to seventy than sixty, yet by all accounts — accounts, admittedly, written by his friends and family; Sunset's main source for all of this was a collection of letters home by the various soldiers who had marched with him — he had led his men with valour in the field and treated them with consideration in the camp. He had perished during General Colton's abortive Mistral campaign, besieging a fortress held by the faunus. Wounded, he had refused water, insisting it be given to another wounded soldier whose need, so he claimed, was greater than his own.

He had died not long after.

A remarkable man, to be sure, but Lady Nikos was not interested in whether Jaune's ancestors were brave, although perhaps … perhaps she ought to have been. Perhaps Mistral ought to give a little more consideration to brave ancestors, rather than simply noble ones.

But then, if you were going to take that attitude, then why bother with ancestry at all?

That was a question that Sunset did not wish to get into, so she put it out of her mind and went back to the story of Bohemund Arc to see if she could find out anything about him from before he had established Alba Longa. It was not a fertile search, as Sky had warned her that it would not be; nobody from the founding days of Alba Longa seemed to want to discuss what they had been or where they had come from before the town was founded. It was as if they were ashamed of themselves, or more charitably, they simply wished to make a fresh start here, unburdened by what had come before.
Judging by his speech upon accepting the Mayoral office, it was clear that Bohemund Arc had certainly seen it that way.

Every man has a past, he had said, addressing the people of the newly chartered town. Only the newborn babe is free from the shackles of what has gone before, and even a child can bear the burden of their parents' legacies. But, rarely, we are given the chance to throw off those chains and to start anew, defined not by what we have been and done before but by what we choose to do and be from now.
Whatever I was, whatever my family were, matters not anymore. Whatever you were, whatever you have been, matters not anymore. For we have received the Royal Charter, bearing the seal of His Majesty the King, and by this seal, whatever went before is rendered null and void.

We are the people of Alba Longa now, and the future is in our hands.

It did occur to Sunset that if this settlement was founded by people running from their pasts, it might explain why they had a dislike of visitors and outsiders which had become ingrained in their descendants.
It also occurred to her that if that were the case, then neither she nor Jaune nor Lady Nikos might like the answers if she were to continue to pry into the secrets of the Arc family and its heritage.

Well, if that is the case … I can keep a secret, Celestia knows. If I find out anything disgraceful, I shall keep it to myself and make up something more inspiring for Lady Nikos.

I think a man like Bohemund Arc deserves an inspiring ancestry in any case.

Nevertheless, his insistence on leaving the past beyond Alba Longa aside didn't leave her very much to go on. Nor did it help that, judging by a comment made by his son, Robert Arc, in a letter home to his mother during the war — in which he had fought first alongside his father, and then been elected to lead the company after his father's death — Bohemund Arc had been illiterate. It was a surprising fact to Sunset, but there was no denying what was written in Robert's letter.

Father is unable to write you himself, but he wishes me to convey his deepest love and most sincere affection and to tell you that he wishes for nothing more than that this bloody war should come to an end, that he might return home to you and live out the remainder of your days in peace.

It didn't have to mean that he was incapable of writing, of course — he might have hurt his hand — but there was not a single letter home written by Bohemund in the entire collection, and to Sunset's mind, the fact that Robert didn't feel the need to explain why his father was unable to write was suggestive.

She spent hours searching, going without lunch because she was getting caught up in the search, hunting down every scrap of paper, every letter, every anything that might give her a clue about Bohemund Arc's origins, his parentage, who he had been before he founded Alba Longa.

There was nothing. The slate had started clean here in this town, just as he had wished.

What kind of past would drive someone to erase it? Sunset could think of answers, just not any good ones.

Since she was unable to look further back, Sunset found herself looking forwards, closer to her own time, for all the good that it would do. Bohemund's son, Robert, had taken up his father's sword and fought in the Great War until the final victory, being present at the Battle of the Four Sovereigns; he had even been one of the Last King's honour guard, who had accompanied His Majesty to accept the submission of Mistral, Mantle, and Vacuo. And then, like his father before him, he had returned to Alba Longa and taken up a quiet life, farming his land, helping his neighbours, a presence in the life of the town but one with no official role.

His son — one of his sons — Carrot Arc, had attended the then-nascent Beacon Academy, and Carrot was the most prolific writer of the three generations of Arcs that Sunset had yet come across, because Carrot had kept a diary.

There was little to hope that Carrot's journal would begin with a recounting of his family history, but nevertheless, Sunset took it out of its file box and, using telekinesis rather than her fingers to move the pages for fear of damaging it, began to flick through it.

...my partner is a man named Crown D'Eath; he often seems sad, and when he is not sad, he is rather solemn, but he is incredibly brave. In fact I'm not sure that he has any fear at all.

…I saw Delphi sitting alone again today; I think it's pretty harsh for even her own teammates, her own partner, to want nothing to do with her like this, just because she's from Mistral. She didn't start the war, or fight in it. I went and sat with her.

I don't understand how anyone can treat someone so beautiful with such unkindness.

Sunset snorted. Arcs get struck down easily, it seems.

…Crown got into a fight today with Goshawk Winchester. I wasn't sure what it was about, but Crown is my partner, so when the punches started flying, I joined in to help him, of course. It turns out — as Crown told me when we were doing our detention together — that Winchester had insulted his family. Crown told me that the D'Eath's are an old Valish noble line, of long standing and much honour, but that they have fallen on hard times recently and are much reduced in state, so families like the Winchesters look down on them now.

I wonder if that's why he fights so ferociously, so fiercely: he feels as though he has nothing to lose, since his family has already lost everything.

Nevertheless, I must confess I think it must be rather grand to know where you come from and to come from such a prestigious lineage. I felt rather embarrassed telling him that I don't know anything about my family past my grandfather, although I also felt ashamed of my embarrassment, since both father and grandfather were heroes in the war.

If even you don't know where your family came from, what hope is there for me? Sunset wondered.

I'm not ashamed of my family. The examples of service from my father and grandfather are why I decided to come here to Beacon and train so that I can follow in their footsteps. I just wish that I knew more about where we came from. I can still look to the future while being curious about my past.

Crown wasn't contemptuous at all; in fact, he seemed fascinated. He said that Crocea Mors is much older than Grandfather's day and asked if he could borrow it to do some study.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. It seems that I'm not the first one to walk this road.

Crown has been spending a lot of time in the library; he's there almost all the time he's not in class. I wish that he'd tell me why. I asked Delphi about it, and she told me that people have reasons for everything they do, but that sometimes, they prefer to keep those reasons private. I think she was talking about herself as much as about Crown.

Sunset frowned, flicking rapidly through pages in which there was nothing more about Crown's researches, just ordinary details of school life — although from what she could gather from skimming through, ordinary school life which was becoming a little more tense as Carrot began to court this Delphi, the Mistralian student.

Crown and I had a row today. He was trying to get me to drop Delphi, and I wouldn't hear of it. He kept on pushing me about it, and finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I let him have it, telling him that I wasn't going to turn my back on the girl I love — yes, I said it, I love her! — just because she's Mistralian and people don't approve. Crown told me that it wasn't about her being from Mistral. It wasn't about the war, anyway.

He told me what he'd been researching in the library.

Sunset sat up straight.

I won't put down what he told me.

"Oh, come on!" Sunset yelled, and then looked around guiltily, grateful that there was no one else down in the archives to have overheard that.

It's not possible, what he said, and even if it were true, what he wants, what he talked about, it's madness. It's ridiculous. It's wrong. I hate to be that kind of person, but I had to be honest: we wouldn't be able to be friends if he kept on talking that way. Crown went very quiet, but he agreed not to bring it up.

Thanks a lot, Carrot, Sunset thought.

It occurred to her that there was some possibility that Crown D'Eath was still alive. Yes, being a huntsman was a dangerous profession, but they were only talking about Jaune's grandfather's generation … admittedly, Sunset didn't know anyone with living grandparents, but there had to be some around somewhere; it wasn't that long ago. He'd only be … about as old as Professor Ozpin, surely?

And if he did come from an old noble family, well, then he would be in Bagehot's Peerage; not the use to which Sunset had intended to put it, but it was a good thing that she'd brought it with her nonetheless.
Sunset put down Carrot Arc's diary and took up the book, a record of all the Valish noble families, their genealogies, coats of arms, notable members, deeds, and so and so forth. New editions were published regularly, taking account of births, marriages.

Sunset wondered idly if there was a Mistralian equivalent, or if all the old families knew one another's history so well that there was no need for such.

She would be amazed if there wasn't something like it.

And she thought that it would be rather nice, when the new edition came out, and it came time to draw a line from Pyrrha Penthesilea Penelope Alcestis Ariadne Hippolyta Nikos to Jaune Arc, with a little 'm.' above said line, if there was at least some indications as to where the lines flowing down to Jaune Arc had come from.

The families in Bagehot's were arranged not in alphabetical order, but in order of their seniority in the peerage, but thankfully, there was an index in alphabetical order in the back, which Sunset was able to use to find the D'Eath family roughly in the middle of the book, possibly shading ever so slightly towards the back half.

She opened to the correct page of the heavy, hardback tome and was confronted by a picture of the D'Eath coat of arms, a silver helm with the visor down upon a scarlet field, and the motto, 'First in the Vanguard'.
Sunset scanned the family tree, turning over the pages until she came to the most recent entry.

Crown D'Eath was dead, and died without heir, what was more; he had never married and had no children, making it overwhelmingly likely that whatever he had learned, or thought he had learned, had died with him.

A now disgraced family

Sunset blinked. 'Disgraced'? Why disgraced? It sounded as though they had declined in wealth, in power, but disgraced? Not a word she had expected to see written here.
She found herself skipping over a lot of the information about the history of the line, jumping to the final paragraph.

The family became disgraced and extinct with the death without issue or heir of Crown D'Eath, the fourteenth lord, following a series of acts of terror including the assassination of a Councillor, the murder of a huntress, and sundry other crimes vile and disreputable.

Sunset stared almost blankly at the paragraph for a few moments. There was … there was not really very much that you could say to that. It was not what she had expected to read.

She couldn't shake the feeling that it was connected to the Arc family. There was no proof of that, but she was convinced of it nonetheless.

For that reason, she temporarily packed up her stuff, putting books and pens and papers and everything else back in her rucksack and slinging it over her shoulder as she ascended out of the underworld of the archives and back up into the corridors of the town hall, where the floors were flint and the walls were wood-panelled, decorated with hunting trophies and oil paintings. Sunset soon emerged from there, too, blinking into the sunlight, and set off through the town towards the Sheriff's office.

Sky Arc might have a job to do, but there was no reason why Sunset couldn't call upon her at her workplace for a short chat.

She reached the shores of the lake, the sunlight falling upon the waves and making the water seem almost silver, sparkling under the light. Out on the lake, Sunset could see, a little way off so that they seemed small in her eyes, Jaune and Pyrrha in a rowing boat. Pyrrha was rowing, leaning forwards and then backwards in a practiced motion as she drove the oars through the water, while Jaune sat at the other end of the boat with a guitar in his hands, playing something that Sunset was too far off to catch more than the faint strains of.

As Sunset watched, Pyrrha stopped rowing, letting her devote her full attention to Jaune and his music.

"They make a cute pair, don't they?"

Sunset started a little, looking around behind her to see Miranda Wells approaching, dressed in a loose-fitting floral-pattern dress and a big, floppy summer hat that fell down over her face, casting a shadow over it and over the hair that fell down across her shoulders.

Miranda smiled. "Should it be that easy to sneak up on a huntress?"

"Some huntresses, you wouldn't be able to sneak up on," Sunset said, "but I'm one of the ones who needs to see their enemy coming." She paused. "But the answer to your question is yes, they do make a very cute pair." She glanced at the easel that Miranda was carrying in one hand, as well as the satchel slung across her other shoulder. "Are you going to be doing a spot of painting?"

"Yes," Miranda said. "I'm not that good, but I've always enjoyed it, and I'm certainly not bad either." She paused. "I'm going to paint the lake, not Jaune and Pyrrha … although, if they stay out there, I might put them in the picture as well. After all—"

"They make a cute pair," Sunset said, a smile playing across her lips.

"Exactly," Miranda agreed. "And you can't go wrong putting a lady in a dress and her handsome beau in the centre of a painting."

"Some modern artists might disagree," Sunset muttered.

Miranda snorted. "Okay, yes, you've got a point. But my style has always tended towards the traditional."

Sunset nodded. She was silent for a moment, and for more than a moment as Miranda started to set up her easel by the shore of the lake.

Sunset folded her arms. "How … how have you been?"

Miranda stopped what she was doing. She remained frozen, bent down in the act of fiddling with her easel. "I … there are good days and bad days. There are days when I feel fine, and there are other days when … I don't. But I think … I think that there are more good days than bad days, lately. I think. There are more good days, and more good nights when I don't dream of … that thing."

Sunset nodded but said nothing. There was very little she could say.

Very little that she had the right to say.

"I think," Miranda went on, "I think that Pearl … she wouldn't want me to fall apart, you know? She wouldn't want me to run back home and hide in my room and never come out. She wouldn't want me to … this sounds stupid; I mean, she's dead, it doesn't matter what she would have wanted. But it's like … it's like I can hear voice in my ear, telling me 'get up, girl, get off your ass!'" She closed her eyes, even as she straightened up. "She gave her life to save mine," she declared. "She sacrificed herself so that I could get away, that … I need to honour that."

Sunset chewed on her lower lip. "So … what are you going to do?"

Miranda laughed. "I haven't quite worked that part out just yet, but … it'll come. I'm sure it will."

"I … I'm sure it will too," Sunset murmured.

Miranda glanced at her. "So, what about you, what brings you out here? Keeping an eye on your team?"

Sunset laughed, grateful for the change of subject. "I don't think they need it here, no; I'm looking into Jaune's family history."

"'Jaune's family history'?" Miranda repeated. "Why … just why?"

"Because I promised Pyrrha's mother that I would."

Miranda frowned. "No, sorry, still not getting it."

"It doesn't really matter; it's just something that I agreed to do."

"Well, good luck finding out anything earlier than the founding of the town," Miranda told her. "The folks who founded this place really wanted a fresh start."

"Yeah, I've noticed," Sunset replied. "What's that about, anyway?"

"If I could tell you that," Miranda said, "they wouldn't have done a very good job, would they?"

"No," Sunset murmured. "No, I suppose they wouldn't." She paused for a moment. "I … need to go and talk to Sheriff Arc."

"Oh, okay, yeah, that's fine," Miranda said. "And I have stuff to do here so … good luck with your search, even if I don't understand what you're looking for, or why."

Sunset turned away, feeling honestly glad to get away as she left Miranda by the lakeshore, alone, with the silver waters lapping at the bank before her, the breeze plucking at her dress.

Sunset herself made her way to the Sheriff's office, a modern-looking brick building, painted blue on the ground floor and then white on the first floor and the roof. A pair of double doors, mostly glass, barred the way inside, but they opened at Sunset's touch as she walked into a large, open room with a tiled floor. The back of the room was segregated off with cell bars and doors, all of them empty at present, each with an unoccupied bed, a toilet, and a washbasin; various filing cabinets and cupboards lined the walls, while doors led off the sides of the room marked 'Gun Locker' and 'Evidence Locker' respectively.

Sky was sitting behind one of the desks, the one facing the door, and she looked up as Sunset came in.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

"Yeah," Sunset said. "I was just hoping I could have a word." She glanced at the occupant of the other desk, a young man with blond hair sticking up — all of it, and far too much to be called a Mohawk — on top of his head so that it added another foot to his height. "In private."

Sky got up. "Come into the evidence locker; Sprout, holler for me if you need me."

"Yes, ma'am," the young man, Sprout, said without looking up from his paperwork, or the doughnut he was eating while he pored over said paperwork.

Sky gestured in the right direction, as though the door wasn't clearly labelled Evidence Locker; Sunset followed her inside, finding a room that was very largely empty, with only a few boxes with labels written in ink upon them and a lot of barren shelves gathering dust.

"You don't have a lot of crime in this village, I take it?" Sunset asked, as she shut the door behind her.

"Personally, I think that's a good thing," Sky said. She turned to Sunset, leaning against one of the empty shelves, folding her arms. "We're nice people in this town; we treat our neighbours well." She paused, before saying, "So, what can I do for you?"

Sunset put her out her arm to rest it against a shelf near the door. "I was wondering if the name Crown D'Eath meant anything to you."

"It's pronounced 'Deeth,' not 'Death'," Sky replied. "And … yes, I know the name … that's a bad story, that is. You found Grandpa's journal, I take it?"

"You've read it?"

"Of course I have," Sky said. "And I've done more than that; he was my grandfather, after all; he only passed away a few winters ago."

"So you talked to him?"

"Of course."

"So you know the story?"

"Does it matter?" Sky asked, frowning. "I thought you were interested in our ancestry?"

"I am," Sunset said. "But if you've read your grandfather's journal, then you'll know that Crown D'Eath was interested in it too, and I'm pretty sure he found something out. Something that your grandfather didn't want to hear, or didn't want to get out, wanted Crown to keep to himself. I wondered if you knew what that something was."

Sky smirked. "If I knew something that Grandpa didn't want to be known, what makes you think I'd tell you?"

Sunset snorted. "That's a fair point."

"But as it happens, I don't know," Sky admitted. "Grandpa Carrot didn't tell me. He … it was painful for him. You … do you know what Crown D'Eath did, after Beacon?"

Sunset nodded. "He killed at least two people, and then was killed himself."

"By Grandpa Carrot," Sky said.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "I didn't know that."

Sky nodded. "Grandpa went to Beacon, same as Dad and … same as Jaune now, but he didn't become a huntsman. He became a cop, a watchman as they were called in those days — it was still called the City Watch back then; they didn't become the VPD until … a little bit later, after he quit, I think. Anyway, he was a cop; it's what inspired me to join the Sheriff's Department here in Alba Longa. He was a cop and … and he had to kill his friend. His friend who was killing other people and who had to be stopped. Grandpa … he said that he didn't regret it, but … it stayed with him. Killing a man, killing that man. It's why I'm worried about Jaune."

"Jaune's okay," Sunset assured her. "Professor Goodwitch — combat instructor, informal deputy headmistress — is also a trained therapist. He's seen her. In a professional sense."

"I'm glad," Sky said. "I'm also horrified that my baby brother needed to see a shrink, but … I'm glad. He didn't try and give you any crap about that, did he?"

"No," Sunset said. "Did you think he might?"

Sky shrugged. "Men around here can be … protective of their … manhood. And Jaune, because he was made to feel like he never had much manhood — and I will own that we didn't exactly help with that; in fact, we made it worse in some ways — he could be prickly about stuff like that. He didn't make a fuss, say that men don't need to talk about their problems, anything like that?"

"No," Sunset said. "That kind of stuffing … he arrived with some of that, but he managed to get rid of it early on. Being around so many girls has cured him of it."

"It didn't when he lived with us," Sky said.

"Pyrrha is a lot nicer to him than you were, I think," Sunset said. "No offence."

Sky glared at her for a moment, before she admitted. "You're probably right." She looked away and coughed once. "Anyway," she said, "Grandpa didn't stay in the big city long after that. He came back here, back home, became the Sheriff, married, had Dad, raised his son. That's the way it happens with Arc men; they leave, and then they always find their way back home. Except Jaune won't be coming back, will he?"

"Possibly, probably not," Sunset conceded. "That's something you'd have to ask him, although given Pyrrha's … everything, it does seem most likely that they'll live in Mistral. But does it matter? Does it really matter if he moves to Mistral with Pyrrha? With seven sisters, the new generation of Arcs is secure without him, surely."

"You might think," Sky said, without elaboration. Sunset didn't press her; it was hardly her place to do so.

Instead, she asked, "You say that Carrot married. Did he marry Delphi, the huntress he talks about?"

Sky was silent for a second. "No," she said. "No, he… Delphi was the huntress murdered by Crown D'Eath."

Sunset's eyes widened. She didn't say anything, because there wasn't anything polite to say to that. To have your partner murder your lover … it might have made killing him a little easier, but that probably wasn't much consolation. No wonder Carrot Arc hadn't wanted to stay in Vale.

"And you don't know why he did it?" Sunset asked. "What drove him to kill?"

Sky shook his head. "Grandpa never said."

He didn't want Carrot dating her — or courting her, perhaps, in the old-fashioned vernacular — in the first place; they argued about it, and that's when everything that Crown knew or thought he knew came out.
And then he killed her. Because of … what?

What secret about someone's ancestry is worth killing for?

XxXxX​

Red leaned forwards. "You seen that new girl in town?"

Despite the fact that it was only two in the afternoon, Ruben took a swig from his beer bottle, before putting it down upon the table at the Moon Over Water. "What new girl?" he demanded. His lip curled into a sneer. "You mean Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune's new girlfriend."

"No, the other one, just got in today," Red said. "She's got a room upstairs. Name's Sunset Shimmer. Fine lookin' girl. Friend of Jauney's."

Ruben snorted. "A 'friend of Jauney's,'" he sneered. "This whole town is gonna fill up with friends of Jauney's, more outsiders." He chuckled. "He's introduced his girlfriend to his folks; maybe now it's the turn of his bit on the side."

He felt a hand stroking his stubbled cheek. Jolene's hand, turning his face towards her.

"Aww, are you jealous, sugar?" Jolene asked, a touch of mockery in her voice. She half-smiled, half-smirked at him as got up out of her seat and sat down on his lap, still stroking his face as she did so. "Am I not good enough for you no more? You want some Mistral tenderness, is that it?"

"I ain't jealous!" Ruben snapped. He wasn't. He really wasn't. He was … he was the man in this family. He always had been. His father had worked like a dog for the Arc family, keeping their farm running while they lived all high and mighty, the famous Arcs of Alba Longa.

And he had done just the same. He worked, he did all the work, he was the one who got things done, he was the man in this family, not Jaune. Jaune had always been a snivelling little girl, playing with his sisters, reading, crying, dreaming. Ruben didn't have dreams, Ruben didn't run off to some school way out in Vale, Ruben didn't turn his back on his family. Ruben stuck around, stuck it out, put up with the fact that his wife was only half a woman and couldn't have kids, put up with the fact that his sisters-in-law looked down on him.

He put up with it, unlike Jaune, and what thanks did he get? What appreciation? None at all! Not one little bit! While Jaune, that little girl, that runaway, he showed up back home one day, and everyone loved him, everyone fawned over him, everyone thought he'd grown so much.

Yeah, he thought he was such a man now, Jaune Arc. And he had … he had a girlfriend now? A girlfriend like that? A beauty beyond compare, and rich, and famous too?

What did she see in him?

He wanted her, Pyrrha Nikos. More than for herself, he wanted to take her to show Jaune who the real man in this family still was.

Ruben had worked hard and put up with a lot on the understanding that he would inherit the estate when Old Man Arc passed away. Then he would finally be free to kick out all of his wife's sisters to see how they liked being poor. And after that … he glanced at Jolene. She would be willing to become his wife, once he'd got Rouge out of the way, but by that point, he might want someone a little younger. Someone like Miranda Wells, now that she was back in town; she might not like it, but her parents would see the advantage to it.

Except that they might not if Old Man Arc decided that actually Jaune could be left the estate, now that he'd become a man at Beacon.

Red leaned forwards. Red Beauregard was one of his best friends, perhaps the best, a solidly built guy with short red hair, dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans.

"I heard something," he said, "listening at their door."

"Why were you listening at their door?" Jolene asked.

"So I could hear anything worth hearing," Red said, as though it were obvious, "and I heard that before Jaune brought his girlfriend out here, he was worried she was going to get stolen away by a real man."
Ruben snorted. "I wish. Seems she's only got eyes for him, though, God knows why."

"That doesn't need to matter though, does it?" Red said.

Ruben's eyes narrowed. "You got somethin' in mind?"

"It won't solve all your problems, but it might make him cry a little bit," Red said. He paused. "You know, Jolene, you look kind of like Pyrrha."

"I do not look kind of like Pyrrha!" Jolene declared. "She looks kind of like me! I was here first!"

Red shrugged. "Either way," he said. "You got flaming locks of auburn hair, ivory skin, and eyes like emerald green."

"And my smile is like a breath of spring and my voice is soft like summer rain," Jolene said, primping her hair with one hand. "My beauty is beyond compare, I know."

It used to be, Ruben thought. She was still pretty enough — and prettier than his wife, that was for sure — but she was starting to get old now; she was past thirty already, and it was taking its toll on her.

"What's your point, anyway?" Jolene asked.

"The point is that we tell Jaune that Pyrrha is cheating on him," Red said.

"But she ain't," Jolene pointed out.

"Yeah, but he'll believe it 'cause he was already scared of it," Red insisted. "Then, you show him some pictures that we're going to take of me, making out with Jolene, dressed like Pyrrha—"

"Is this whole plan just to give you an excuse to kiss me?" Jolene demanded.

Red's eyes twinkled as he smiled. "Would you blame me if it was?"

"Not at all," Jolene said.

"But it'll work," Red insisted. "He might even cry. He'll definitely call her out, maybe in front of the whole family. He might not want to go back to Beacon after all; he'll just hang around home reminding everybody how useless he is."

"It'll be worth it just to make him sad," Ruben declared. "Are you okay with this Jolene?"

Jolene sighed. "Sure. Why not? Anything for you, sugar."

"Well, okay then," Ruben said. "Let's break up the happy couple."

XxXxX​

Author's Note: If you've read Terry Pratchett's Men at Arms, you can probably see where this is going.

If you haven't read it yet, you should.

No updates on Wednesday or Friday as I won't be around to post them, the next chapter will be up on Monday 19th September.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Feeling Feelings​

"So," Pyrrha asked, "have you found out anything interesting so far?"

Sunset smiled at her. "I'm surprised you're interested, to be honest. I thought you didn't care."

Pyrrha chuckled. "I don't need Jaune to be a lord or … the lost heir to the throne of Vale in order to love him," she said, wrapping her hands around Jaune's arm as she spoke. "But if you've found out anything — anything at all — interesting about Jaune's background … how could I not be interested to know?"

Sunset, Jaune, and Pyrrha were sitting on the porch of the Arc family home, shielded from the sun by the overhanging veranda. Jaune and Pyrrha sat together upon a porch swing, held up by chains attached to the roof above, swaying gently back and forth as they both looked at Sunset. Sunset, for her part, had to be content with a rocking chair, which she was struggling to control; she didn't want to rock back and forth, but she couldn't get the thing to stay completely still. She was going to have to stand up at this rate.

Sunset nodded, rocking forwards a little as she did so. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, but I haven't found anything yet, and honestly, I don't have much hope of finding anything here." She glanced at Jaune. "Something that I suspect you knew before I came down here."

"I told you—"

"You told me you didn't know anything," Sunset preemptively corrected him. "You didn't tell me that there was nothing to find, that there was deliberately nothing to find."

"'Deliberately'?" Pyrrha repeated. "What do you mean?"

Jaune shrugged. "There … there is nothing before my great-great-grandfather and the founding of the town. Everything before that is…"

"Non-existent," Sunset said. "And, it seems, purposefully so."

Pyrrha frowned. "I … I don't understand. You're suggesting that—"

"Nobody set out to lie or keep anything secret," Jaune said.

Well, I don't know about that, Sunset said, thinking about Crown D'Eath and Carrot Arc.

"But," Jaune went on, "people, my ancestors, the folks who founded this town … it seems like they wanted a fresh start. They didn't want whatever they had been before to follow them here. They only wanted the futures that they would make for themselves. So … they didn't talk about their pasts. At all. My great-great-grandfather might as well have sprung up out of the ground fully-formed. About the only thing that he had that tied him to his past was Crocea Mors … and I broke it."

He looked down into his lap, as though the shards of the sword could be found there.

"I'm not sure a man who denied his past and talked about the future belonging to him would care about the breaking of an old antique," Sunset murmured. "He'd probably tell you to get on with forging it anew and make something that you could carry into the future that belonged to you."

Jaune looked up at her. "You think so?"

"I didn't know the man," Sunset admitted, "but it seems like him. And I didn't know your grandfather either, but … Sky told me his story. How he couldn't save his Mistralian love. I think, I hope, that if he were here, he'd tell you to be glad you had a broken sword and a living girlfriend, instead of the other way around."

He did not look at her, but Jaune's right hand reached up and touched Pyrrha's hand where she held his arm.

"You're right," Jaune said. "That is what he'd say. I hope that's what he'd say. I didn't actually know my grandpa very well; he was … I looked up to him, he was the kind of hero that I wanted to become, but at the same time … he scared me a little bit. I was afraid to try and get too close to him because … because I didn't think I measured up." He paused. "I…"

"Don't say it," Pyrrha told him.

Jaune looked at her. "Huh?"

"At some point this year, you've saved all three of our lives," Pyrrha said. "Ruby and Sunset by healing their injuries, mine by giving me breathing room against Cinder when I needed it. Without you … if that isn't something to be proud of, to set against the noble deeds of your ancestors, then I know not what is." She paused. "But, I must say, I am surprised by what you've told me about your lack of family history. I suppose it doesn't matter. I know it doesn't matter. But at the same time, I must admit that I am baffled by the decision of your great-great-grandfather. I can't imagine not drawing strength from the example of those who came before you; not only that, but denying those who come after the opportunity to do the same. It's … vandalism."

"My family isn't yours, Pyrrha," Jaune reminded her. "It might not be that there was much of anything to remember."

It might be darker than that, Sunset thought, but did not give voice to the thought. It hardly seemed the time or the place to suggest such a thing, in the midst of Jaune's own home, when Jaune and Pyrrha had had a good time here so far. No, not the time or the place at all.

"I suppose so," Pyrrha murmured, "but this goes beyond forgetting, as might happen, and into wilful neglect, and that … it is a mystery to me that someone would wish to go to such lengths to erase their family history." She glanced at Sunset. "What will you do now? What will you tell my mother?"

"I will apologise to Lady Nikos and ask for more time," Sunset told her.

"Time for what?" Pyrrha asked. "If there is nothing here—"

"It does not follow that there is nothing anywhere," Sunset reminded her, "and I know for a fact that there is something elsewhere, because someone else has walked this path before me, in Jaune's grandfather's time."

"Really?" Jaune asked. "What did they find?"

"If I knew that," Sunset said, allowing just a touch of tartness to enter her tone, "I wouldn't need to retrace their steps; it would just be there. I know that they found something, and that it excited them, but I don't know what it was."

"It seems odd that their reaction survives, but not the discovery that prompted it," Pyrrha pointed out.

That was very true, but to avoid saying that Jaune's grandfather had fought to have the discovery covered up, Sunset simply said, "These things happen sometimes. Anyway," she said, leaning forwards — and then rocking backwards so far her feet left the ground. "Oh, for Celestia's—" Sunset leapt up and pushed the rocking chair backwards so that it didn't get in her way. She moved around to stand directly in front of Jaune and Pyrrha, her gloved hands resting upon the wooden railing of the porch. She cleared her throat. "Anyway—" she began.

"Sunset, look out!" Jaune cried.

"What—?" Sunset looked around, wondering what had prompted his sudden cry, only to see a goat that had snuck up on her and was about to start chewing on her sleeve. "Ah!" Sunset cried, raising her arms above her head and sidling away from the animal. "No! Go away!"

The goat made a noise that sounded a lot like a staccato laugh and followed her, trying to stick its head through the bars of the porch rail to get at the edge of her jacket.

"Get you gone!" Sunset snapped. She pointed her fingers at it. "Go away right now, or I shall turn you into a newt, so help me! Go!"

A bolt of magic leapt from her fingertips to strike the ground just beside the goat, which turned and ran from the miniature explosion and the crater in the soil.

Sunset tugged upon her jacket with both hands. "I don't know how you've survived this place, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as she chuckled. "I've been very lucky, I suppose, that nothing like that has happened to me."

"Lucky you indeed," Sunset muttered. "But then, I was never much of a countryside girl." She resumed her prior place leaning on the porch, half sitting upon it, facing Jaune and Pyrrha. "So," she said, "as I was saying: how has it been?"

The two of them looked at one another, but neither said anything.

Sunset rolled her eyes. "Don't everyone jump in at once."

Pyrrha laughed. "I'm not sure what you want us to say, Sunset."

"There must be something you can tell me!" Sunset cried. "What's happened, how are they treating you, what's it like—?"

"You can find that out for yourself when you meet everyone for dinner tonight," Jaune said.

"Am I invited?"

"Yeah, you didn't think we were just going to let you eat alone at the Moon, did you?"

"I hardly knew, you only invited me just now," Sunset replied. "How's the food?" she asked Pyrrha.

"Exquisite," Pyrrha assured her. "Jaune gets his cooking skill from his mother, clearly."

"Ooh," Sunset murmured, a smile upon her face. "Got that to look forward to, then. I suppose none of them will be too surprised that I came up empty in my search."

"None of them mentioned it when they found out you were coming," Pyrrha said.

"Perhaps they didn't think it was worth mentioning," Sunset replied. "Anyone that I should … be wary of?"

"Why would you ask that?" asked Jaune.

"Because you said 'nearly everyone' before you corrected yourself," Sunset reminded him, "and I want to know what that's about."

Jaune shifted uncomfortably upon the porch swing.

"Jaune's brother-in-law, Ruben, has not always … been as courteous as one might like," Pyrrha murmured. "He … it doesn't matter."

"Doesn't it?" Sunset inquired. "What's he said? What's he done, for that matter?"

Now it was Pyrrha's turn to fall silent, to refuse to speak; she looked at Jaune, but she did not answer Sunset's question.

At least, not at first; it became clear watching her — watching her watching Jaune — that she was waiting for him to say something. When he did not, Pyrrha prompted him, "Jaune… did Ruben bully you when you were younger?"

Jaune took a few seconds to mumble, "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so, a little bit."

"And now?" Sunset asked.

"He delights in attempting to put Jaune down and seems pained by any acknowledgement of Jaune's accomplishment or skill," Pyrrha said. "The saving grace being that so many in this house seem to find him impossible to bear. I must confess, I do wonder why Rouge ever married him. There seems … little affection between the two of them."

Jaune sighed. "Ruben … Ruben's dad works for my Dad. He runs the farm for Dad; he works our land. So our families have always been close. Ruben was always around. He was older than me, he was bigger and stronger than me … he was more of a man than I was. Dad … needed someone to take over the estate from him, and it was clear that I wasn't going to cut it … Ruben … made sense."

"So he married the eldest daughter to seal the deal?" Sunset asked. "That sounds about as old-fashioned as anything that might go on in Mistral."

"Such a match as my mother might have wished and intended," Pyrrha said softly, "but I had the freedom to say no. Had Rouge—"

"I don't know what Rouge thought," Jaune admitted. "I was too young to know. Maybe she did love him once. I don't know. I'm not sure that we should be talking about it — about her — like this."

"Yes, of course, this is most improper," Pyrrha said. "Forgive me."

He smiled at her. "It's okay. I just… let's just leave it there. Ruben can be a bit of a jerk sometimes, but he's harmless, and he has been good to this family, mostly. Just … he might say something at dinner, but … try not to flip out on him, okay?"

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "What's he likely to say that I should 'flip out'?"

"I don't know," Jaune admitted. "But you can sometimes … fly off the handle about things."

"I do not fly off the handle; I get righteously angry at things that it is righteous to be angry about," Sunset insisted. "If he feels my anger, it will be because he gave me cause."

"I'd still rather he didn't," Jaune said. "Considering that this is my home, and my family."

"I'm not going to promise to just sit there and take everything," Sunset declared.

"You would if Lady Nikos asked you to," Jaune pointed out.

Sunset folded her arms. "Lady Nikos," she said, "would understand that there are some insults that I should not be asked to put up with." She paused. "But, as this is your home, and your family, and as we do wish Pyrrha to make a good impression … I will endeavour to show a greater than usual restraint … up to a point."

"Thanks," Jaune said. "I mean that. Whatever else he is, he's still my brother-in-law, after all."

"Thank you, Sunset," Pyrrha agreed.

"You're welcome," Sunset said. "How long are you two planning on staying here, by the way?"

"How about you?" Jaune asked.

"I don't see much point in hanging around," Sunset told him. "As I said, there's nothing to learn here, intentionally so. Although, having said that, I will say that there's a lot to be proud of in the ancestors that you do know about. They were impressive people, wherever your great-great-grandfather came from."

"Maybe you can tell me more about them," Pyrrha suggested to Jaune.

"Uh, yeah, maybe," Jaune agreed. "I wasn't sure you'd be interested."

"And what in Remnant would make you think that I wouldn't be interested in your family history?" Pyrrha asked.

"That's a good point," Jaune conceded. "But, to get back to it, I think we'll probably go back with you. My Dad's party is over; that's why we came back, we can't hang around here forever. I'll tell Mom and Dad that we're leaving tomorrow."

Sunset nodded. "Okay, then," she said. "That's good to hear. When we get back, you should look at getting your sword reforged. Any ideas?"

Jaune shook his head. "Not really?"

"Never mind, I'm sure that Ruby will have a few," Sunset said. She blinked. "Seriously, there's nothing you can tell me? What have you been doing here for the last few days?"

"There really isn't much to tell," Jaune insisted. "I worked things out with my folks and my sisters, Pyrrha … everybody got on board with Pyrrha and I being together in the end—"

"Almost everybody," Sunset corrected him.

Jaune laughed lightly. "Yeah, okay, almost everybody," he admitted. "I found out that one of my sisters is having a baby…"

"I met Jaune's nephew," Pyrrha added. "He's very cute."

"Is he now?" Sunset murmured.

She'd never really had time for children. Princess Celestia had tried to get her to do some foalsitting like Cadance, but aside from the fact that Sunset wasn't really interested in doing anything that precious Princess Cadance had done first — she was her own mare; she followed in nopony's footsteps — there was also the fact that she just hadn't really liked fillies and colts. They were demanding, they were noisy, they didn't do as they were told, and if you made them, then everypony acted as though you were the problem. She'd tried it once, for Princess Celestia's sake, and … while she hadn't done a bad job on purpose, she hadn't been sorry to not be asked back.

It didn't seem as though Pyrrha had had that problem.

"Yes, he is," Pyrrha said. She paused for a moment. "So, you're not planning to do any more work this afternoon?"

"Is there any more work for me to do?" Sunset replied. "I'd do it, if I thought that I'd find anything, but it seems as though this town was intentionally constructed as a dead end for this investigation."

"Then, will you excuse us for a little while, Jaune?" Pyrrha asked.

Jaune looked surprised. "Yeah, sure, but why?"

"It seems that this might be a good opportunity to start training Sunset's semblance," Pyrrha explained. "Where nothing is going to come up and get in the way."

"Well … that's true enough, I suppose, but here?" Sunset asked. "Are you sure that you wouldn't rather that I excused the two of you?"

"It's fine," Jaune assured her. "I've had Pyrrha almost all to myself since we got here."

Pyrrha smiled and leaned forwards to kiss him on the cheek. "We won't be long," she assured him as she got to her feet, smoothing her skirt out with both hands.

"Are you expecting me to pick this up quickly?" Sunset asked.

"No, but there's no point in overdoing things on the first lesson," Pyrrha replied. "Since you won't master everything right away, why try to force yourself?"

"I suppose," Sunset muttered. She preferred to force herself, to drive herself hard, but it takes two to teach a lesson, and if Pyrrha wanted to take a more relaxed, Celestia-like approach to instruction, then Sunset was in little position to contradict her on the point.

Especially since Pyrrha was doing her a favour here, and even moreso, given where they were now.

"We'll use Kendal's room; I don't think that she's in there," Pyrrha said, as she turned to lead the way inside the house. Her feet were hidden beneath her full-length skirt, but Sunset could hear her heels tapping upon the wooden boards regardless.

Sunset followed her inside the house, trailing behind her down a wooden corridor and into a dining room, where the table was bare and not set for any meal. Upon one of the walls was an array of photographs, all of them framed in varnished wood, and Sunset found herself drawn to the wall, to the picture of multitudinous Arcs who grew up before her eyes from little girls to grown women. Her eyes lingered for a moment upon a picture of Team SAPR and Blake, standing together in front of the Emerald Tower of Beacon, arms linked together across one another's shoulders, leaning in and smiling.

You could tell that this had been taken before Mountain Glenn because they were all smiling.

But Jaune and Pyrrha, at least, could still smile so brightly now, she thought; could Blake? Could Ruby? Was it only her who could not?

I can smile.

But can I smile like that? I know not.

Pyrrha turned at the foot of the stairs to see Sunset lingering, looking at the pictures. She, herself, drifted back to Sunset's side.

"That one was taken at Mister Arc's birthday party," she said, pointing to a picture set about two thirds of the way up the wall.

Sunset's eyes followed Pyrrha's outstretched hand and pointed finger. She was pointing to a picture of a large group, mostly women, all gathered around a middle-aged pair that she took to be Jaune's parents. Both had gone a little plump with age, a little soft around the middle, but in neither case egregiously so. His suit and her dress still fit them very well.

A gaggle of women — Jaune's sisters, clearly — stood grouped around the parental couple, some of them leaning in to get in frame, some of them half-doubled over to make sure that everyone could be seen. Jaune, by contrast, was standing near the back, and so was Pyrrha, who was wearing the most delighted smile upon her face that it popped out of the picture and the frame to illuminate the room.

Sunset found herself smiling too. "You look like you were having a good time."

"I hadn't expected to be asked," Pyrrha admitted. "To join the picture, I mean. Chester and Ruben are married to River and Rouge but I'm just—"

"The love of his life?" Sunset suggested.

"His girlfriend," Pyrrha replied. "Jaune could dump me tomorrow—"

"But he won't, because you're the love of his life," Sunset reminded her, "and I'm guessing they invited you to join their picture because they recognise that too. That, and it seems that you made a good impression." She grinned. "You really did well here, didn't you?"

"I…" Pyrrha hesitated, a blush rising to her cheeks. "I think that to a certain extent, I … disapproved of Jaune's parents more than they disapproved of me."

"Why?" Sunset asked. "Are they crude and boorish?"

"No," Pyrrha said quickly. "Not that, for the fact that they allowed Jaune to come to Beacon so completely unprepared, without his aura unlocked."

"Oh, right, that," Sunset said. "From what I understand, that word 'allowed' is doing some significant heavy lifting, I must say."

"You know what I mean," Pyrrha said. "If Jaune had been trained—"

"If Jaune had been trained, you wouldn't have had to save his life," Sunset pointed out. "If Jaune had been trained … think about how he acted when he came to Beacon; if Jaune had been trained, he would have been Cardin Winchester without quite so much muscle. Arrogant, full of himself, jealous of anyone who threatened his sense of superiority." She paused. "So, me, basically, without my stunning good looks." She patted her long, fiery hair with one hand.

Pyrrha laughed. "Even so, grateful as I am, much as I love him … if, by giving him up, I could give him all the strength he needed to achieve his dreams, then I would do it."

"Always assuming, of course, that you have not become his new dream," Sunset pointed out.

Sunset wouldn't have thought it was possible, but Pyrrha became even redder in the face. "I… I am so very lucky. I don't know how I did it."

"Arc men fall hard and fast, it seems," Sunset replied.

"You're talking about his ancestors?"

"I read a little about Jaune's grandfather. He fell for a beautiful Mistralian student as well."

"Really?" Pyrrha asked. "What happened? Did they live … happily ever after?"

"Uh … no," Sunset admitted, rather wishing now that she hadn't brought the subject up. "She … she died, in the line of duty."

What an odd phrase that, 'in the line of duty.' It is used as though it should ameliorate sorrow. They died, but in the line of duty, so that makes it alright. That makes it better than an ordinary death. That makes it bearable, tolerable, not so worth being sad over.

I wonder if that's ever worked? I wonder if it has ever truly ameliorated. 'In the line of duty, you say? Well, why didn't you say so before; I shall stop crying at once.' And yes, I know that's an exaggeration, but even so. Has it ever really made anyone feel better, to know that their loved one died in the line of duty?

Ruby, possibly.

Even so, a strange phrase.

"Sunset?" Pyrrha asked.

"Mmm?" Sunset replied. "Sorry, did I space out there?"

"For a second, yes," Pyrrha said. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes," Sunset said quickly. "Yes, everything's fine, I …" She looked at the picture again. "Is Jaune wearing a gold suit?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said, a smile playing across her lips. Not a smile of mockery at Jaune's embarrassment, a genuine smile, bright and lustrous. "Doesn't he look handsome in it?"

"I can hardly tell, the way that his height has forced him to the back of the shot," Sunset murmured. "And anyway, it's gold."

"And what of that?" Pyrrha asked. "Why shouldn't he wear a gold suit?"

"Because…" Sunset trailed off.

It was true that, in Equestria, nopony would dream of wearing such a thing — bright colours were the province of mares; stallions were expected to be far more drab and conservative in their attire — but this was not Equestria. Yet, at the same time, she had observed that much the same standards applied here in Remnant, at least in the kingdoms that she had … well, in Vale and Atlas at least; in Mistral … it varied, although even there, Valish and Atlesian styles and the accompanying lack of colour were making headway. But, faced with Pyrrha's question, there was no actual reason why it should be so. No reason why Jaune should not wear a gold suit, if he wished.

"I…" Sunset shrugged. "I don't know, really; I suppose that I was just surprised. I didn't even know he had anything like that."

"He doesn't," Pyrrha explained. "The suit belonged to Jaune's father." She leaned forwards to whisper conspiratorially in Sunset's ear. "It was his wedding suit."

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "Really? You are doing well, aren't you? Was that deliberate?"

Pyrrha let out a sort of awkward, halting laugh. "I … I haven't had the heart to ask. That probably had nothing to do with it, but … a girl can dream, can't she?"

"You certainly can," Sunset told her. "Although you scarcely need to. At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if you told me that Jaune had proposed since I saw you both last."

"Not quite," Pyrrha said, with a little laugh. "Although we did find time to talk … about our future. Where we'll live and what we'll do and … children."

"'Children'?" Sunset repeated. "You … you are truly fortunate, to have found a man who is willing to … to entertain such things so early. Who is not content, desirous even, merely to mess around, however you might wish for more."

"I know," Pyrrha said. "Believe me, I know."

"One thing that I do regret," Sunset said, glancing up at the photograph once again, "is that I can hardly see any of your dress with the way that you're in the back with Jaune, hidden behind his sisters."

"It's up in my room," Pyrrha pointed out. "I can show you, if you like."

"That would be nice, before you start trying to help me manage my semblance," Sunset said.

"It's up this way," Pyrrha said, and once again, she turned from the pictures on the wall and left Sunset to follow her to and then up the stairs to the first floor of the house. A long corridor awaited them there, lined with doors, but Pyrrha did not lead Sunset very far along the corridor before stopping in front of a door proclaiming that this was Kendal's room and that intruders should keep out.

Nevertheless, Pyrrha pushed open the door, revealing that there was, all things considered, very little need for privacy beyond the general desire for the same, considering how sparse the room was — although that might have simply been because it was so small. The bed on one side and the camp bed on the other took up most of the available space, and when you added in the desk facing the window … it was less of a room and more of a corridor between three points.

"Is this where you've been staying?" Sunset asked.

"Yes," Pyrrha said. "Kendal has been very obliging."

"I am amazed that you were able to get dressed into some of your gowns in here," Sunset declared. "Where was the room?"

"I made do," Pyrrha said.

"Couldn't they have found you anywhere with a little more space to stay?"

"I think they thought that I would get on with Kendal," Pyrrha replied, "and I have. She's in the Survey Corps, so she was a little more welcoming than some of Jaune's sisters, at first."

"That is … a dangerous road to travel," Sunset said. "Not least because there are no roads where she walks." She paused. "In some ways, you might say that it is a more dangerous road than Jaune's."

"Or any of ours," Pyrrha pointed out. "But yes, I take your meaning. We, at least, have weapons and training … and one another. And our semblances, once we have mastered them."

Sunset laughed. "I'm not stalling, I assure you," she insisted. "Although I will stall for just a mite longer and point out that you promised to show me your dress from the party."

"So I did," Pyrrha conceded. She turned towards the bed, upon which sat her case containing her clothes. She looked down, taking out the green dress that she had worn to come down here from Beacon. Sunset saw her frown down at the case. "That's odd."

"What?" Sunset asked. "Is something wrong?"

"Not wrong, precisely, but … my red dress and bolero, I can't see it," Pyrrha murmured.

"You do have a lot of dresses in there," Sunset pointed out.

"I know, but it was near the top; I'm sure it was," Pyrrha said, beginning to lift up the clothing in her case to peer underneath it. "And I can't see it anywhere."

"If someone has stolen some of your clothes, that seems a little more than nothing," Sunset observed.

"I … I'm sure it will turn up somewhere," Pyrrha said. "Perhaps I … misplaced it somewhere. In any case, it's only a dress. Not worth making a fuss about. Anyway," — she pulled a stunning gown of gold out of her case, holding it up in front of herself — "this is what I wore to the dance."

Sunset's eyes widened. "That … that is stunning," she said as she took in all the flowers and pearls stitched into the bodice and the skirt. The way that they were sewn into the chest, in particular, they looked like they were bursting out of her.

Flowers springing from the grave.

Sunset blinked. Where had that thought come from? Too much thought of Delphi, the lost love of Carrot Arc, most like. An uncomfortable thought, a thought to be rid of.

"Sunset?" Pyrrha asked.

"I'm fine," Sunset assured her. "I am … mine eyes are dazzled by the sight of your gown."

Pyrrha smiled. "It is lovely, isn't it? And it complemented Jaune's suit so well, what a fortunate coincidence."

"Fate smiled on you," Sunset said. "Save that you do not believe in fate."

"No," Pyrrha murmured. "No, I do not." She put the dress back, neatly, in such a way that it would not crease. "My destiny is in my choosing."

She sat down upon the bed, moving her case a little to make room for her. She clasped her hands together, resting her elbows upon her knees, and sighed.

"What is the matter?" Sunset asked.

"Nothing," she said. "Nothing is the matter."

"Then why do you seem sad?" asked Sunset, squatting down upon the floor in front of Pyrrha. "Or rather, why does it suddenly seem as though all joy has left you?"

"My joy is still within my heart, I assure you," Pyrrha said, "but the talk of fate and thence to destiny reminds me that…"

Sunset gave her a chance to say on, but she did not avail herself of it. "Reminds you what?" she prompted. "Reminds you of what, perhaps?"

"Reminds me that I am less certain in myself than once I was," Pyrrha confessed. "I … do you remember the day of our duel, when we talked on the rooftop?"

Sunset nodded, and a smile pricked at the corners of her mouth. "We are none of us so young and certain as we were then."

"No, indeed," Pyrrha murmured. "But do you remember what I said to you, that day, about my … my destiny?"

Sunset snorted. "You meant to save the world."

"To protect it, yes," Pyrrha said. "It seems very arrogant to hear it repeated back at me thus, as proud as ever my mother was — more. It's … it's rather funny, really, that I have complained at the way that I am put upon a pedestal, but arguably, I have put myself upon the greatest pedestal of all: Pyrrha Nikos, defender of the world."

"An ambition worthy of your royal race," Sunset said.

"And what is my royal race worth, in this contest in which we are engaged?" Pyrrha asked of her. "I thought to protect the world as a huntress, but what is a huntress worth in this contest in which we are engaged? I have not your magic, nor Ruby's eyes."

"You have your spear—"

"And what is a spear against Salem?"

"What are any of our several powers against Salem? She is invulnerable, and just as invulnerable against my magic as against your weapons," Sunset replied. "Professor Ozpin spoke with Ruby, on the day you left Vale for this place."

Pyrrha nodded. "I know."

"He told her—"

"Are you sure that you should be breaking this confidence to me?"

"Ruby will tell you all when you meet her next," Sunset assured her.

"Nevertheless, is it not Ruby's tale to tell?"

"I wish only to say one brief thing," Sunset said, upon the verge of snapping but not quite doing so. She took pause. "Professor Ozpin despatched Team Stark against Salem directly. He thought, he hoped, that the silver eyes of Summer Rose, though they could not destroy Salem, might turn into stone and trap her harmlessly for all eternity. Suffice to say, it did not work."

Pyrrha was silent a moment. "Ought this to bring me comfort?" she asked.

Sunset laughed, and Pyrrha laughed too, and for a moment, the sound of their laughter chased all thoughts of Salem and war and the great struggle in which they were engaged from this room, from Alba Longa, from the world in which they dwelt.

But then the laughter died, and all dark thoughts crowded in once more, despite the brightness of the day beyond, casting their shadows on the walls, shadows that reached for the two huntresses in the narrow room, laying their dark hands upon Pyrrha's fair skin, running their fingers through Sunset's fiery hair.

"No," Sunset said. "No, it was not, merely to make you see … you have no need to be ashamed of what you are. You are no more inadequate to this task than any of us, than any of Professor Ozpin's servants have ever been. You are yet a champion amongst us." She paused. "Is it fear, then, that makes you sad?"

"No," Pyrrha replied. "Although it does not help. No, if I could be certain of my destiny, then perhaps … no, I think I would yet … it is not the fear of whether I can fulfil my destiny, rather … I am uncertain if I now desire it."

Sunset looked into Pyrrha's vivid green eyes. "You … wish for something else?"

"I know not," Pyrrha said. "Not for certain. Perhaps, I fear that it may be, I know it is, and I delight it is, I know not. I am … my heart is … I am adrift. Adrift, without so much as a light to guide me back to shore."

"May I not be your light?" Sunset asked. "What is this doubt?"

Pyrrha smiled, thought it was a sad smile, touched by frost. She sighed. "What else," she asked, "but Jaune? But love?"

"What else is love but the death of duty?" Sunset whispered.

"Perhaps the death of destiny," Pyrrha suggested. "I did not expect, I never … coming to Beacon, I hoped for friendship, but this, but love? Wherefore should I have hoped for love, and yet, now love holds me prisoner; it chains me."

"All prisoners should rejoice to be so chained," Sunset pointed out.

"Indeed," Pyrrha conceded. "Indeed, and yet … what if my love overbears my sense of duty? What if that prospect does not trouble me?"

"If it troubled you not, then we would not be having this conversation," Sunset pointed out. "What would you have, if your heart could have its way?"

"I do not know!" Pyrrha cried. "If I knew that, then we would also not be having this conversation, no?"

Sunset let out a little bark of laughter. "Touché. Yet nevertheless … is it not the case that you want all and do not believe that you can possess it? Love and heroism—"

"And victory?" Pyrrha asked. "That, at least, we cannot have."

"No," admitted Sunset. "But then, that was always the most arrogant part of your ambitions." She smiled, to show there was no malice in it. "Have you spoken to Jaune about this?"

"No."

"Have you considered that you should?"

"I cannot."

"Why not?"

"Because he is not so burdened," Pyrrha declared. "If I told him that … if I confessed to him that … if he knew that a part of me would like nothing more than to surrender this struggle for a life with him … I don't want him to think that I'm emotionally blackmailing him, playing upon his feelings to get that which I desire."

Sunset stood up. "Is that what you desire? To leave?"

"Not very heroic, I know," Pyrrha murmured. "Not worthy of the spirit of The Mistraliad. Ten thousand fates of death surround us which no man may escape or avoid, and yet … and yet, being away from this war, they will not come upon us near so swiftly. But, to your question … have we not established that I know not what I desire?"

"True," Sunset answered. "That, at least, I will concede closes off other routes, but beyond that … you can be hero and lover both, can you not? Are you not already? Have Jaune and destiny. Your namesake had Camilla, after all; I do not see why you cannot have Jaune."

Pyrrha looked at her. "All my foolish fears so simply resolved?"

"Not so simple if you decide that you want out," Sunset replied. "But, for the rest, I see no reason why you cannot have it all. If any deserved to have all, after all, it is you. And any other choice … you will have to speak to Jaune about it. If you do not wish to speak to Jaune … keep as you are. Put fear and sadness and fate and destiny and all such weighty matters to one side.

"We may not be able to defeat Salem, but we have scotched her plans, thwarted her, and though it was not without cost … it will be some time before her shadow can fall on Vale again. Rainbow said so, and I think … I have come to think that she is right, or why else should we have time to visit with Jaune's family, to amuse ourselves with the Vytal Festival? We have passed through our trial; let us speak, let us think, only good things today, and for many days hereafter."

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. "Only good things," she said.

"Even so," Sunset said. "Good things … and wise things, touching upon semblance."

"Indeed," Pyrrha said, her voice lightening. "Indeed, I have not forgotten. Sit down."

Sunset crouched down once more before her.

"A seat on the other bed might serve you better," Pyrrha pointed out.

"On someone else's bed?" Sunset asked. "No, I'll be fine here."

"Then you will also need to take off your gloves."

Sunset frowned ever so slightly. "Are you going to have me … would you have me use my semblance on you?"

"Is there a better way to train than use?" Pyrrha asked. "If you touch me, then you will feel—"

"Feel as you do and see your memories," Sunset said.

"Then what I want," Pyrrha said, "is for you to try and find a specific memory. The memory … of the day that we arrived in Mistral. A memory that is also your memory will hopefully be easier to find."

"Provided I don't get mine and yours mixed up," Sunset replied. "You … you trust me with this? To feel what you feel, to see what you have seen?"

"Do you not already feel what I feel?" Pyrrha asked. "Do I not unburden myself to you as to none other, not even Jaune?"

Sunset's mouth opened and then closed again. "I … nevertheless, I am touched by your trust, and all for my sake too."

She shrugged off her jacket, and her hands glowed with the green light of her magic as she telekinetically unbuckled her vambraces and lowered them down gently to the floor.

Then she pulled off her gloves and looked down at her bare hands.

Sunset looked at Pyrrha. "Are you sure that you want this?"

"What have I to be afraid of?" Pyrrha asked. "What secrets have I from you?"

I don't know, but I have some from you, Sunset thought. I suppose I should be glad this process only works one way.

She took a deep breath, and then another. She looked at Pyrrha's outstretched hands, held out to her as if in offered benediction.

She did not take them. She looked at them, but shrank from touching them.

Come on, it was always going to come to this sooner or later. This was what asking her to help you was going to involve.

Sunset reached out and placed her hands in Pyrrha's palms. She felt a jolt of energy shoot through her, her vision was consumed by a bright light, and then—

She was in Kendal's room again?

Yes. Yes, it was, this narrow room where too many beds took up too much space, with Pyrrha sitting on the camp bed—

And Sunset squatting on the floor opposite her.

Ah, okay. The memory closest to Pyrrha's thoughts was all of seconds ago. Makes sense.

But I need to get somewhere else. Our arrival in Mistral … how did I do this with Cinder? I … I wanted to know. I wanted to know so badly what had driven her to lie to me, to betray me.

"Then why do you seem sad?" asked the memory of Sunset. "Or rather, why does it suddenly seem as though all joy has left you?"

But how can I feel curious about something that I remember myself? How do I feel curious about Pyrrha when I know her so well?

"My joy is still within my heart, I assure you," Pyrrha said. "But the talk of fate and thence to destiny reminds me that…"

Sunset turned away, not needing to hear this again so soon, but she was unable to stop her ears against the words spoken by her memory-self. "Reminds you what? Reminds you of what, perhaps?"

"Reminds me that I am less certain in myself than once I was," Pyrrha confessed. "I … do you remember the day of our duel, when we talked on the rooftop?"

The world changed. Kendal's room dissolved, and in its place … there was the rooftop, at Beacon, a world away from Alba Longa, the narrow room replaced by the black roof with its view looking out across the expanse of Vale. Pyrrha had exchanged her dress for her cuirass of bronze and leather, for the greaves and cuisses that covered her legs. The wind flicked at her hair, and at Sunset's too, as they sat together, with the sunlight bright upon them.

"Do you believe in destiny?"

This was a happy memory for Sunset, but from what she could feel from Pyrrha … she felt sadness. She could not think why this memory of this day should make her sad, but she could only imagine that all that had come after, the things that they had talked about in Kendal's room, they had covered over whatever she had felt — and Sunset, for her part, had felt quite content, more content than she had felt since coming to Beacon — like treacle poured over a dessert or winter snow stealing across the land.

Sunset felt that sadness now, not weeping sadness, not sadness to make her cry, so perhaps not sadness at all, rather say, melancholy.

"My destiny, the destiny I choose, the destiny I came here searching for … is to protect the world."

And then the Beacon rooftop, too, receded, disappearing, replaced by Lady Nikos' study, at her home in Mistral.

Mistral. Mistral, I'm halfway already to where I want to be. I just need to think. How to get to that memory? How to get out of this one?

"You think I am too hard on you?" Lady Nikos asked. She looked much as she had done when Sunset met her, proof that she had spoken true when she declared that it was giving birth to Pyrrha, and not the ravages of years, that had turned her old before her time. The study was the same in some respects, but all the tributes to Pyrrha and her deeds that had in Sunset's time made up one wall were gone, replaced by a painting in a gilt frame, a pastoral scene that clearly held little value for Lady Nikos, given that she would exile it from her presence in later years.

Pyrrha stood in front of her, on the other side of the desk. She was … five years old; Pyrrha's memory supplied the years, tall for her age, and gangly in the arms, without the muscle that would later round them out. Her ponytail was shorter too, barely reaching to the nape of her neck. This was after her first triumph, in a citywide junior league — this was the tournament, Sunset guessed, in which she had beaten Phoebe Kommenos, who had come home and abused Cinder in consequence.

And so do the wheels turn, all fates entwined.

Pyrrha did not meet her mother's gaze. "I … I…"

"Don't stutter!" Lady Nikos snapped. "Speak!"

Sunset honoured Lady Nikos. She liked Lady Nikos. Yet at this moment, she was filled with nothing but anger towards Lady Nikos, an anger that she not expected to feel in the soul of gentle Pyrrha, but there it was: anger towards the woman who had controlled her, fashioned her like clay or soft wax, made her into an instrument of Lady Nikos' own ambitions with no thought for Pyrrha's own desires, who had lied to her to come between Pyrrha and her happiness, her heart's desire.

Why did I want her to make amends with such a hateful woman? Sunset wondered.

Lady Nikos stared at her for a moment. "I am hard on you," she conceded, "because you are a child, and if I am not hard on you, then you will not be hard on yourself. You will waste your days and your talents." She got up, casting a shadow that reached across the desk to fall on Pyrrha. "You are my daughter," she said, "a daughter of the House of Nikos, scion of a line of heroes, and you yourself … if Chiron is not a liar, and if mine eyes do not deceive me, then you have it in you to be the greatest warrior that Mistral has seen in many generations. I will not see that potential squandered; I will not."

Somewhere else again; Pyrrha's mind was like a flea, it jumped from scene to scene with scant regard for visitors, barely allowing Sunset to get her bearings in one place before she found herself being whisked off to another. Now, she stood in a field, upon the edge of a forest, looking down upon a wide valley with a river running through it, and on the other side of the valley, there, upon the mountain, lay Mistral.

"Why did they want to poison me?" Pyrrha asked.

Sunset turned around. Pyrrha was a little older now, ten years old, and she had gotten taller, just as her hair had gotten longer. She was dressed in what looked like it could be the progenitor of her current garb of war: long black gloves upon her arms, a red sash — shorter than that which she currently wore — tied around her waist; her greaves were smaller, and there were no cuisses, and she wore no vambraces either. Her top was a little less revealing than it would become; in place of cuirass, she wore a red tunic, with a bronze pectoral across her chest.

Her circlet and armband were nowhere in evidence.

Pyrrha was sitting beneath a tree. Two people sat on either side of her, an equine faunus with hooves emerging from out of his trousers and a plump woman with dark tangled hair. Chiron and Chariclo, Pyrrha's memories gave Sunset their names, her tutor and his wife, her erstwhile nurse. Though Pyrrha scarce required a nurse at that age, still, she and Chariclo were close, if only because she was Chiron's wife.

Pyrrha's memories, too, supplied the context that Sunset lacked; Jason and Meleager, two other of Chiron's students, had attempted to put something in Pyrrha's food that would sicken her, but Chariclo had uncovered the plot before it would come to fruition.

There was no anger in Pyrrha at this memory, and not just because it was so long ago and they had been children at the time; rather, this memory brought instead a renewal of that melancholy that Sunset had felt before.

She had hoped to make friends with them, her fellow students. She had hoped that they would share a common bond and be further bound in common purpose.

Instead, they hated her, and Pyrrha could not help but feel it was her fault.

Sunset wanted to go over to her and give her a hug.

Strangely, she did not want to find Jason and Meleager and give them a thrashing. Clearly, Pyrrha's emotions were affecting her mood.

"They are boys," Chariclo said, "and boys are cruel."

"They are jealous, Pyrrha," Chiron said. "Loathe as I am to contradict my dearest, they would have done this thing had their names been … Alcimede and Deianeira."

Chariclo snorted.

"They are jealous … because I am more skilled than they are?" Pyrrha asked.

"It is unfortunately so," Chiron informed her.

"But why?" Pyrrha demanded. "It doesn't make me any better than them just because I'm … more skilled than they are."

"It will," Chariclo said. "In time, you will understand."

"Pyrrha, you have won tournaments in the past, but these have been small affairs, meant for children to play in, signifying, I must confess, very little. You have been noted, by some, for your skill and for your victories, but even amongst those who claim to follow the tournaments, there is not such recognition for the youth circuit. But soon, your mother has told me that she wishes to enter you into the adult tournaments at the earliest possible age. For most students, for Meleager and for Jason, I would counsel against it, but you … you will be ready, I think. In truth, you are nearly ready now, not just to compete, but even to triumph. No one so young has won the Mistral tournament in … oh, many a year, back into days of myth and legend, but you … you have it in you. Your skill gives you that chance and will unlock great glory for you, glory that Jason and Meleager, skilled though they are, cannot imagine. And thus, they are consumed with envy. It is not pleasant, but it is the way of the world."

"Need it be?" Pyrrha asked. "Is glory all there is, and nothing more?"

Chiron was silent for a moment. "What else could there be, or should there be?"

"To do … to do something with my skill more than win trophies for my mother's cabinet," Pyrrha said. "To win battles not for my glory but for all mankind." She got up and took a step away from the tree, her eyes fixed on Sunset — not actually at Sunset, obviously, but at the city of Mistral that stood behind her. "To protect the world. Have I skill enough for that, Chiron?" She looked back at him, over her shoulder.

Pyrrha did not believe she did, not anymore. Sunset could feel it, just as she could feel the anger at her mother, the melancholy.

But how was she to take control of it? How was she to move according to her own desires and not the hopping of Pyrrha's thoughts?

She was back in Kendal's room now, with Pyrrha and her memory self, continuing their discussion from earlier. No, now she was in Mistral again, back in the House of Nikos, and Pyrrha was kissing Jaune … and Sunset was seized with a powerful desire to do the same.

Was he not handsome? Was he not brave and kind? Was there not so much in him to love, to adore, to cherish—?

Not for me, there isn't! Stop it! Keep your feelings to yourself, Pyrrha!

Feelings … feelings, yes, perhaps. It was true that Pyrrha's thoughts were being driven by association, or so it seemed, one memory giving way to another as they were triggered — Pyrrha asked Sunset about the rooftop, and then they were on the roof; Sunset asked about Pyrrha's destiny, and then she remembered something about that, and so on. But Sunset's thoughts were not having the same effect; she was thinking hard and to no avail; Pyrrha's thoughts remained in control.

But what if it wasn't about simply thinking, but feeling too? After all, her power was not just telepathy, but empathy; she didn't just see Pyrrha's memories, she didn't really read Pyrrha's thoughts at all, rather she felt her emotions.

If she could harmonise her feelings with Pyrrha's, if she could feel what Pyrrha had been feeling in that moment, then perhaps she could guide herself in that direction.

So what had Pyrrha been feeling?

Sunset remembered what it had been like to arrive in Mistral from her own perspective; she remembered Pyrrha leaving Jaune behind to watch the great city come into view from the airship.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

That was what Pyrrha had said. Pride, then, excitement, joy. Sunset closed her eyes and covered up her ears and paid no mind to Pyrrha's memory; rather, she focussed upon her own memories, her own feelings, and the connection between the two. Pride, excitement, joy. Attending Princess Celestia's school. She had felt so proud to walk those hallowed halls on the first day, so proud to step through the open door, to sit down in class, to hear the words of wise and wizened unicorns. She had been … nothing, until then. Princess Celestia's ward, yes, but a charity case, a little filly on whom the princess had taken pity, with no family, no purpose, and no use. But once she started attending the School for Gifted Unicorns, that was when … that was when Sunset Shimmer had started to become somepony, to show that Princess Celestia's kindness had not been wasted on a nothing, to show Equestria what she could do.

To show Princess Celestia that she could do it.

Sunset opened her eyes and found that she stood upon a Mistralian airship, flying towards Mistral, with the memories of Team SAPR around her.

Sunset gasped. "I … I did it," she said. "I did it!"

"I did it!" Sunset cried, raising her hands in the air back in the real world.

"You … you did?" Pyrrha asked. "You found the memory?"

"Yes," Sunset said. "The four of us, flying to Mistral."

"Extraordinary," Pyrrha murmured. "On your first time, you … that's very good, Sunset; congratulations. How do you feel?"

Sunset grinned. "I kind of want to kiss Jaune right now."

"I'd rather you didn't," Pyrrha said dryly.

"I also feel rather upset with your mother."

"That might be a more welcome change, if it were permanent," Pyrrha said. "For my part … it's the strangest thing, but I feel a squirming sense of guilt."

Sunset swallowed. Her stomach froze up. It works both ways? It works both ways! That's … this is the worst semblance ever!

How am I going to explain this?

Pyrrha frowned. "Sunset … why do I … why do you feel so guilty?"

Sunset's mouth was dry. She dared not swallow again for fear of betraying her nerves, and even if she had done so, it wouldn't have helped. "I … I let you down over … over the Arcadia Lake business; it was … I shouldn't have done it."

"We forgave you for that."

"That does not make it so easy to forgive myself," Sunset replied.

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. "No," she conceded. "No, I suppose not." She glanced away, looking ashamed to have brought it up.

Mentally, Sunset let out the sigh of relief that she could not release physically.

"How did you do it?" asked Pyrrha, sounding anxious to change the subject. "Reach the memory, I mean?"

"I thought about what I thought you had been feeling at that moment, and then I felt the same things myself," Sunset said.

"So easy?"

"It was an idea," Sunset said. "One worth trying, it turns out."

"Hmm," Pyrrha murmured. "Yes, I see."

"Is something wrong?" Sunset asked.

"Not wrong, exactly," Pyrrha replied. "But with that approach … what will you do with someone you don't know, whose feelings you cannot tell?"

Sunset's mouth opened silently. "That's a good point," she admitted, "but what's the alternative?"

"I confess, I am not sure either. It may be that there is no controlling your semblance under such circumstances," Pyrrha admitted. "But, to make sure that it was not a fluke, would you like to give it another try?"

 

[ScipioSmith]

In This Manner Accused​

It might have looked as though Jaune was sitting on the porch swing doing nothing, staring blankly out into space, but he was actually deep in thought.

Specifically, he was thinking about what to do about Crocea Mors.

He had to get it repaired or refashioned in some way; he needed a weapon for the Vytal Festival — he needed a weapon for the next three years at Beacon — and if he got any new weapon, any weapon other than a sword — and a sword that could be used in conjunction with a shield, at that — then all of Pyrrha's instruction would be wasted, and he'd be starting from the beginning again.

He could always just have the sword reforged, exactly as it had been before, but that seemed … well, Dad had advised him not to do that, pretty much, and Jaune could see why. He had an opportunity now to do things a little differently, to come up with a weapon that, yes, fit the style that he'd been trained in, but which was also his, not just a hand-me-down from his family but something which played to his own strengths and allowed him to forge his own style along with the weapon itself.

It was the exact nature of what those strengths were and what that style might be that Jaune was trying to figure out.

Yes, Ruby would probably have some ideas when they met up again, but since this was his weapon, Jaune thought it would be no bad thing if he were to at least try and have a few ideas of his own before that.

So, while he was alone, he took the opportunity to think about it.

The fact that he was starting with the shards of Crocea Mors meant that anything excessively complicated was probably out. It was cool to imagine having something like Pyrrha's Miló, where the sword also turned into a rifle or a shotgun or something like that, but he was almost completely certain that would require a lot more metal than was found in just an ordinary, untransforming sword. If that was what he wanted, he might as well start from scratch.

Starting from scratch was certainly an option; there was nobody to say that he couldn't just throw the shards of Crocea Mors … okay, there were probably people who would have something to say about that, but he could leave the shards of the broken sword at home and pick up a new weapon at Beacon. Dad might even give him the money for it if he explained why.

But that … that didn't sit right with Jaune; even if it was an option, then it wasn't an option that he wanted to take. Crocea Mors might not have been the perfect weapon, or even the perfect weapon for him, but it was still his family's sword, his great-great-grandfather and great-grandfather's sword. As Sunset had just been complaining about, he didn't have a lot of family history, but he did have this sword and the things that it had seen and been a part of.

It felt right to honour that, even while making it his own.

Besides, if he wanted a gun, then he could always just buy a gun.

Or … or maybe he could have a gun as part of his new Crocea Mors; after all, Dove had a gun built into his short sword, and it didn't just transform. He just pointed the blade at his opponent and pulled the trigger. Jaune wasn't sure how big of a gun it was — probably not a very big one, judging by the size of the sword and the fact that none of the gun parts were visible — but then, he didn't actually think Miló was a particularly large-calibre rifle either. In fact, of the three members of his team who used guns, only Ruby's Crescent Rose was what you might call a big gun. So maybe he could have something like a pistol built into the hilt, and it wouldn't have a huge amount of stopping power, but it would give him options before the enemy got too close.

Alternatively, because just having options was only as good as the options themselves, could he use dust somehow? That wasn't something that he would even need to change anything about the sword for — Soteria was just an ordinary sword, like Crocea Mors, but Sunset managed to infuse the blade with dust and light it on fire just fine all the same — but were there changes he could make that could give him more versatility than Sunset possessed? Sunset was limited by the fact that Soteria was, like Crocea Mors, a venerable old sword — and by the fact that Sunset and Lady Nikos would both have kittens at the thought of altering it in any way — but Jaune was being given a chance to alter his old sword, so why not … alter it? Maybe something like Weiss' Myrtenaster would be a little much — and heavy at the back — but Russel's daggers had some pretty small and discrete dust compartments in them.

Jaune wasn't sure how much dust he could fit in them — probably not a huge amount — but, again, he would have options.

He would still be a swordsman first and foremost, but if the need arose, then he would be able to be a little more than a swordsman if he had to be.

While he was on the subject, although it wasn't broken, there was no actual reason why he shouldn't be able to upgrade the shield, too.

"What are you doing, Jaune?"

Jaune looked up into the face of Kendal, who had come to stand over him; he had been so lost in thought that he hadn't even noticed her casting a shadow over him.

"Just … thinking," Jaune said.

"Thinking, huh?" Kendal said, a touch of amusement entering her voice. She walked in front of him and sat down on the empty seat next to him. "What about?"

"What I could do with my sword," Jaune told her. "Dad said that I shouldn't just reforge it the way it was; I should take the opportunity to make a weapon that works for me. I'm thinking about what that might look like."

"Ah," Kendal said. "Well … I can't help you with that. I'm not sure that anyone around here can, although … where is Pyrrha, anyway?"

"She's with Sunset, upstairs in your room," Jaune said.

"Doing what?"

"Pyrrha's helping Sunset with her semblance," Jaune said, deciding that it would be safe to tell the truth; ordinarily, he would have been wary of doing so, considering that Sunset's semblance was supposed to be the magic that she already used expertly, but there was little need or reason for any of his family to see that.

Kendal nodded. "Do either of them have any ideas about what kind of weapon you could come up with?"

"I'd like to at least try and have a few of my own," Jaune replied. "My friends will help, and whatever I come up with, they'll help me make it too, but since it's my weapon now, I feel like I should have the ideas, rather than relying on Pyrrha or Sunset to tell me what kind of weapon I ought to have."

"That makes sense," Kendal conceded. She paused for a moment. "So, what's your team leader dug up? Are we secret big shots? Are we going to come into colossal wealth and fame?"

Jaune laughed. "Hardly," he said. "Sunset hasn't been able to find out anything past the founding of the town by great-great-grandfather."

"That's pretty much what Sky said to Pyrrha about it," Kendal agreed. "It's like great-great-grandfather sprang out of the earth, ready to found Alba Longa, and before that … before that, he might not even have been called Arc. He might have changed his name to hide where he came from and who he was."

"If that's the case, I'd rather not know," Jaune muttered.

"Really?" Kendal asked.

Jaune nodded. "What if the reason he did that was because … I don't know, he was a crook or something?"

"Why would a crook found a town?"

"Why would anyone change their name and hide their past?" Jaune replied.

Kendal shrugged. "Even if there was something shady about him, something that he'd done wrong in his younger days, then so what? It doesn't change who you are."

"Pyrrha's mom might not see it that way," Jaune reminded her. "The whole reason Sunset came out here was to find something that would make me … more acceptable to her. I'd rather she didn't find something that worked the other way."

"From what I understand," Kendal said, "Pyrrha's already told her mom to get stuffed once when it came to you."

"Yeah, but…" Jaune hesitated. "That doesn't mean that I want her to … the fact that she chose me over her own mother is so … but I don't want her to have to make that choice. She's the only family Pyrrha has."

"She has you now," Kendal pointed out. She paused for a moment, looking away and putting her hand to her face, as though she was about to start chewing on her nails.

"Kendal?" Jaune asked. "Are you okay?"

Kendal snorted. "No," she said. "I haven't been … but I'll live."

"Kendal—"

"You don't need to worry about me, Jaune," Kendal said. "You've got enough to think about, getting through Beacon … and Pyrrha." She frowned. "Listen, Jaune … you like her, right? I mean, you love her?"

Jaune nodded. "With … with all my heart," he said. "With everything that's in me."

"Then don't let her go," Kendal urged, reaching out to put her hand on Jaune's shoulder. "Don't let her slip away from you, because … because if you do, you'll regret it, for years, maybe forever. If you really care about her, then for god's sake, stick with her."

Jaune stared into his sister's eyes. "Kendal…" Who are we talking about now? He didn't know anything about Kendal having lost someone, or even having a break-up; his knowledge of her romantic life was absolutely nil. Had she … what had she suffered in silence?

"You don't need to worry about me, Jaune," I guess that means she doesn't want to talk about it.

"Trust me," he said softly. "If anything comes between us, it won't be my choice."

Kendal drew in a deep breath. "Yeah, Pyrrha told me that she…"

"Left me behind?" Jaune supplied. "You were … talking about me?"

"You're her boyfriend and my little brother, what else were we going to talk about?" Kendal asked. "It's not like we have a whole lot in common."

"And she told you—"

"How she got into a fight without you, because she felt like she had something to prove," Kendal explained. "Though from what Terra says about her, it doesn't seem as if Pyrrha has anything to prove to anyone."

"You'd think," Jaune replied, wondering how he could explain without giving away any of the secrets to which he was privy. "It's true that … Pyrrha's reputation is a hundred percent deserved. She's strong and fast; when you see her fight, she … she's incredible. But lately, with the things that we've learned … Pyrrha's been starting to wonder if that's enough."

Kendal snorted. "If it's not enough, then what hope is there for any of us?"

Jaune didn't reply to that directly. He took a few seconds to gather up his thoughts before he said, "I think … it's not a problem that I've ever had to deal with, but … I think that when you're that good, that young, like Pyrrha was — like Pyrrha is — then the problem is that you start to think that you can do anything, that there are no limits to what you can accomplish. And I'm not saying that Pyrrha's arrogant — she's one of the most humble people I know — but when you're that good, you don't need to be arrogant; you can be justly proud of your skill and your accomplishments, and that's valid because you really are just that good, and especially, when you grow up like Pyrrha did and have practically an entire city blowing smoke for you, then it's a miracle that Pyrrha isn't full of herself. But … now that she's found out that … now that it turns out that there are things that she can't accomplish, as much as she wants to … I'm not sure that she knows how to deal with it."

"Well, with your expertise in reaching your limits, I'm sure you'll be able to help her with that."

"Kendal!"

"I'm allowed to tease you a little bit, come on," Kendal insisted. "And that's why she fought this other girl?"

"And because she was dangerous, and she was worried about me," Jaune said. "That … that was harder for me to forgive." He closed his eyes for a moment. "I get why she feels the way she does, about … about her place in all of this. I don't agree with her — if she's not good enough, then what does that say about me? — but I get it. And I get why she wanted to win that fight, what she wanted to prove to herself. It's not something that I'd need to do, but after spending a little time in her home city, I get that too. But the fact that she left me to stand and watch, pretty much told me to stay back, because she didn't trust me to stand by her side even after we'd already talked about that, about how that wasn't what I wanted, even after she promised … that was harder for me to get over."

"But you did get over it," Kendal said.

"Well, yeah," Jaune said. "I mean, I still love her, after all. And after we talked, I think … I think she understood better why it hurt and why … she won't do it again."

Kendal smiled at him. "So," she said, "when are you going back to Beacon?"

"Tomorrow," Jaune said. "Sunset can't learn anything else here, and Pyrrha and I … there's no point in hanging around."

"You've got your sword to remake, after all," Kendal said. "You told Mom and Dad?"

"Not yet," Jaune said. "I'll tell them at dinner tonight."

Kendal nodded. "By a coincidence, I'll be leaving tomorrow as well; I got a call from HQ about a job."

"They want you to head out and do some surveying?"

"Well, yeah, that is my job."

"Where?" Jaune asked. "Did they say?"

"Southeast."

"'Southeast'?" Jaune repeated. "That's—"

"There's more to the southeast than just Mountain Glenn," Kendal reminded him. "Vale's a big country, after all."

"Yeah, but … I mean, it worked out so well the last time," Jaune muttered.

Kendal sighed. "I get what you're saying, but the thinking is that so many of the grimm that inhabited that area were killed off recently that we should take the chance to set up new settlements in the region while we can, before the grimm come back."

"But they will come back," Jaune said.

"If we took that attitude, we'd never build any new villages," Kendal replied.

"I guess, but … that area is crawling with grimm," Jaune said. "Maybe not right now, but it always has been; I mean, Mountain Glenn—"

"Nobody's talking about a new Mountain Glenn," Kendal assured him. "I mean, I've seen some plans that are overambitious, for a whole line of fortified settlements stretching from the mountains down to Alexandria to act as a breaker for when the grimm do return, but I don't think that's likely to happen. It would cost too much, and there aren't that many people who would want to move to those kinds of places; no, what we're talking about is a few surveyors like me heading down that way and seeing if there is anywhere that we could put a couple of villages or small towns: modest places, defensible places, places that we can hold onto when the grimm come back."

"Be careful," Jaune said. "Just because a lot of grimm were killed doesn't mean—"

"I may not have gone to Beacon, but I know what I'm doing," Kendal declared. "I know how dangerous it can be out there."

"Right," Jaune murmured. "Are you going to hire a huntsman?"

Kendal grinned. "It's a pity that you're still in school; I could hire you and Pyrrha to protect me. But … I don't know; I'll see what particular area I've been assigned to scout when I get to HQ, see whether the budget will stretch for me to afford one. Anyone you'd recommend?"

"All the huntsmen and huntresses I know are either students or professors," Jaune said. "And anyway, it doesn't work like that."

"No," Kendal acknowledged. "No, it doesn't. The huntsmen get a choice; we don't." She hesitated. "Although I've got to say, that seems kind of weird; like, I'm the client, why do I not get to pick my own huntsman?"

"Because huntsmen are supposed to be independent," Jaune replied. "Nobody gets to tell us what to do."

"Don't your teachers tell you what to do?"

"Not as often as you'd think."

"Huh," Kendal said. "Maybe I'll get the train back with you. Or would you rather I didn't embarrass you in front of Pyrrha and Sunset?"

"No," Jaune said. "I mean, sharing a ride, that sounds great."

Kendal smiled with her mouth closed. Her eyes flickered away from Jaune.

Jaune looked around in time to see Ruben approaching, his steps thumping upon the wooden boards of the porch as he leapt up onto it and made his way towards them.

"Jaune, hey," he said, in a voice shorn of his usual false cheer, the enthusiastic mockery of Jaune that usually dripped from every word.

In fact, Ruben did not look cheerful at all. He was rubbing his stubbled chin with one hand, and he didn't look directly at Jaune, but rather past him, down at the wood of the porch, as though he were finding it uncomfortable to be around Jaune.

"Ruben," Jaune said. "Is … is everything okay?"

"No, Jaune, no, I'm afraid it isn't," Ruben said. "No, everything is … everything is not okay." He scowled and rubbed his chin and cheeks some more. "Is, uh, is Pyrrha around?"

"She's upstairs," Jaune said. "Why?"

"Because…" Ruben hesitated. "Jaune, I have thought long and hard over whether or not to tell you this, because god knows you seem pretty happy with that girl, and I don't want to hurt you, believe me, but … I believe that you deserve the truth. And the truth is … the truth is that she's cheating on you, Jaune."

"What?" The exclamation flew from Kendal's mouth, not Jaune's. "Are you…? Wow, Ruben, just … wow. Even by your standards, that is a terrible, terrible joke."

"I'm not jokin'," Ruben insisted, holding up both his hands. "I'm just—"

"What?" Jaune demanded. "If you're not joking, then what are you doing?"

"Don't shoot the messenger, Jauney," Ruben cried. "I'm just tellin' you what I saw. And what I saw, was Pyrrha and Red makin' out. And they were gettin' pretty into it too."

"Ugh," Kendal muttered in disgust. "Seriously? Jaune, you can't honestly believe this crap."

"'Crap'? 'Crap,' is it?" Ruben repeated. "You think I'm lyin'?"

"I think that I've got a pretty good idea of how Pyrrha feels about Jaune," Kendal insisted.

"Well, maybe she lied to you, just like she lied to Jaune," Ruben suggested.

"No," Jaune said, shaking his head. Kendal was right, Ruben was lying; this was all a big and very unfunny practical joke, this was all a way of trying to get him to panic or to cry or something like that; Pyrrha was … Pyrrha would never behave that way; she was too kind, too gentle, too … too in love with him. He remembered the night of the dance; he remembered Dad's birthday party from just a little while ago, how perfectly she fit in his arms, the way that she leaned against him, the way that she kissed him, how determined she was to impress his family. "No, Pyrrha wouldn't do that, she wouldn't—"

"Wouldn't what?" Ruben asked, getting down on his knees so that he and Jaune were closer to a height. "Wouldn't see you for what you are?"

"Ruben—"

"Wouldn't recognise a real man instead of a no-mark boy who ain't good for nothin'?"

"Ruben!"

Jaune looked away from Ruben, his hands coming to rest upon his knees. He found himself staring down at his hands. Soft hands, not the hands of a farmer or a warrior. He wasn't good enough to fight alongside Pyrrha, he wasn't really good enough to satisfy her either, he certainly didn't deserve her.

But Sunset says that love has nothing to do with deserving. And Pyrrha … Pyrrha loves me; I mean why would she pretend like she did if she doesn't, why would she even go out with me in the first place?

"I'm sorry, Jauney, but you didn't really think that a fine girl like her was gonna stick by you, did you? I mean, look at you."

"Ruben, shut your god-damned mouth!" Kendal yelled. She reached out and grabbed Jaune's hand. "Jaune, don't listen to him. I don't know what he's playing — well, I can kind of guess, but that doesn't mean you need to listen to him. Remember what you were just telling me, about you and Pyrrha; please don't tell me that you're going to throw that away just because Ruben says so."

"I have worked for this family my whole life!" Ruben cried. "And I—"

"And you are the last man alive who should be accusing anyone of cheating," Kendal growled.

Ruben swallowed, his neck bulging for a moment as it flushed a bright and vivid red. "I am trying," he declared, "to do the right thing by Jaune."

"Maybe you're right," Jaune said. "Maybe … maybe it was stupid to think that I could … could make Pyrrha happy. Maybe she has found someone better than me. But even if that were true, Pyrrha would tell me first; she wouldn't sneak around behind my back."

"I have proof!" Ruben yelled. "I have pictures!"

"'Pictures'?" Kendal repeated. "What do you mean, how can you have pictures?"

Jaune's eyes widened. "What … that's not possible!"

"What's going on out here? Why is everyone yelling?" Rouge demanded as she strode out of the front door and onto the porch, with Saphron and Terra following closely behind her. "Ruben?"

"I am doing something which I knew would not be popular," Ruben said, "but it has to be done, for Jaune's own good."

"Jaune's … own good?" Rouge murmured. "What do you mean?"

"I have pictures," Ruben said again, "of Pyrrha cheating on Jaune with Red Beauregard."

"That's impossible!" Terra cried. "A … a princess of the old blood would never behave in such a way."

"I don't know about no princesses, but I know what I saw, and I know what my scroll shows."

"Then let me see," Jaune said.

Silence fell amongst the gathered Arcs.

"Jaune," Kendal said. "You don't have to—"

"Let me see," Jaune repeated, "so that I can say that you're wrong."

"I wish that you could, Jauney," Ruben said. "Believe me, I wish that you could."

And yet, despite his words, it almost seemed that Ruben smiled.

XxXxX​

"There seems to be a lot of shouting going on downstairs, doesn't there?" Pyrrha murmured.

"Yeah, I suppose there is," Sunset agreed. "That's uncommon, I take it."

"Indeed," Pyrrha replied. "There are disagreements, of course, but rarely such volatile ones. The last such concerned … well, Jaune returning to Beacon, and even that, even being in the room, it didn't feel so … loud. Perhaps we should go down and—"

"Best not, if it's a family argument," Sunset said. "Do you really want to get in the middle of something like that? No matter what side you take — and if you go down there, you'll almost be forced to take sides — you'll upset some of Jaune's family. Best to stay here, and wait for it all to blow over."

"That … is very wise, I'm sure," Pyrrha replied.

While it might involve abandoning Jaune — although she couldn't imagine why Jaune would get involved in an argument like this — it was the sensible course to not offend any of his relatives, not after she had so recently become accepted by them. Best to say here, until it was all settled one way or another.

It really wasn't any of her business.

But to the sounds of raised voices coming from downstairs was added the sound of footsteps coming rapidly up the stairs, and then along the corridor.

Terra appeared in the doorway, a little out of breath. "You need to get down there right now," she insisted.

"Why?" Pyrrha asked. "What's going on?"

"Ruben has pictures he claims are of you kissing another man; everyone's arguing over whether or not to believe it. You need to come down before they make a decision."

"'Kissing another—'" Pyrrha gasped, one hand flying to her heart. "But … but I would never—"

"Don't tell me, tell them," Terra insisted, gesturing downstairs. "Quickly."

"Of course," Pyrrha murmured, leaping to her feet almost upon instinct, picking up the folds of her skirt with one hand to lift them out of the path of her feet. Behind her, Sunset was pulling on her gloves.

Pyrrha walked to the doorway. "Thank you, Terra."

"Anything for the Champion," Terra said. "Now quickly!"

Pyrrha moved, but as she passed by Terra, as she walked the short distance down the corridor, as she descended the stairs, it was almost as though she did so in a fugue state, in a fog of disbelief and confusion.

She hadn't kissed any other men, not in her life and certainly not in this town. Jaune was her first and only kiss, as he was her first and only love.

How, then, could Ruben have pictures of that which had not happened? What was he showing them downstairs, and did Jaune believe it?

That was the thing that she feared most. If the rest of Jaune's family, if mother and father and sisters all turned against her, if they all became more hostile than they had been when they first arrived, then she could live with that. If they banished her from their home, then she would … she would be content if only Jaune left his home beside her. But if Jaune did not believe her, if he was convinced by these photographs of Ruben's, if he thought her capable of such faithlessness and cruelty, then … then she did not know what she would do.

She did not know if her heart would bear it.

Said heart was beating rapidly in her chest as she came down the stairs.

All the Arcs were gathered in the dining room, save only Aoko. All the rest were present: Gold and Honeysuckle, Rouge, Ruben, Saphron — Terra was behind Pyrrha, with Sunset — Kendal, Sky, River, Chester, Violet. And Jaune, Jaune, standing by the dining table, with his face pale, not looking at anyone.

"I don't know what you've done or how you've done it," Sky was saying, "but I know that you've done something."

"You've changed your tune, haven't you?" River asked.

"So have you," Kendal muttered.

"Look, I'm not happy about this," River declared. "I like Pyrrha, or at least I liked Pyrrha, and I'm sorry that things have turned out this way, but you can't deny what we all see with our own eyes."

"It does look like her," Chester agreed.

"Photos can be faked," Kendal said. "My boss in Vale has a picture of himself that looks like a selfie taken with an ursa major, but I hardly need to tell you he wasn't actually posing for a picture with a grimm standing right behind him."

"I didn't like Pyrrha when she first showed up," Sky said, "but she has never been anything less than honest, even when I didn't like what she had to say."

"Thank you, Sky," Pyrrha said. "I appreciate that."

The dining room fell silent. Every Arc turned to look at her.

Every Arc but one.

Pyrrha tried to gauge their judgement by their expressions. River looked upset, while Chester looked more concerned about his wife than he did about the truth of the accusations — which was fair enough, she supposed; Jaune's parents looked wary, uncertain; Saphron's gaze was hard, for all that Terra had shown that she was unambiguously on Pyrrha's side; Violet was scowling at her; Rouge looked uncertain, a frown creasing her forehead. Sky and Kendal, standing on either side of Jaune, smiled at her.

Jaune did not look at her.

"Jaune," Pyrrha said, her voice so soft that it was barely more than a whisper. "Jaune, I…" Please look at me. Please say something. Please, give me a sign that you have faith in me.

"Don't talk to him!" Violet cried. "After—"

"Violet!" Sky growled.

Jaune looked up at her. "I … I've always thought that you could do better than me," he said, and Pyrrha's heart quailed to hear those words pass his lips.

"No, Jaune, I—" she began.

"But I've always known," he went on, "that if the day came when you figured that out for yourself, I would be the first person you would tell."

A sigh of ragged relief escaped from Pyrrha's lips, setting her whole body momentarily a-trembling. "That day will never come," she insisted, "for I am yours, as you, I hope, are mine. But I swear to you, by all that I am and all that I have and all that others are pleased to make me in their good opinions, I did not do this. I would not, I could not."

"I know," Jaune replied. "I know."

Pyrrha … Pyrrha didn't care what happened now. They could all hate her, they could all believe Ruben, they could all think whatever they liked of or about her because Jaune believed her, and that was all that mattered.

She walked towards him, without hesitation; she would allow none of the rest of the family to stay her progress, and they all made way for her until she was standing by Jaune's side — even Sky had gotten out of the way so that there was a place for her beside him.

She felt Jaune's hand close around hers, and despite the circumstance, she smiled.

"Well done, Jaune," Sunset said. "It's good to know that there are still some guys out there getting it right." She took a breath and scowled around the room. "Now, which one of you is Ruben?"

Ruben straightened his back. "I am, and who might you be?"

"Uh, everyone," Jaune said. "This is—"

"I'm Sunset Shimmer, and I can speak for myself," Sunset said, cutting him off. Her ears were drooped down so that they disappeared into her hair — a sure sign that Sunset was not in the best of moods — and her tail was rigid behind her. "I'm Sunset Shimmer," she repeated, her green-eyed gaze fixed on Ruben. "Leader of Team Sapphire." She paused for a moment. "Apparently, there is something that passes for proof?"

"I have it," Ruben said, raising his hand with his scroll in it. "Right—"

Sunset raised her hand in turn, enveloped by the green glow of her magic as, with her telekinesis, she yanked the scroll out of Ruben's hand and pulled it across the room into her own grasp.

"Hey!" Ruben cried.

"Silence, trash," Sunset snapped as she looked down at the scroll that she had acquired.

Her eyebrows rose. She jabbed her finger at the screen, swiping first one way and then the other. She stared down at the screen, at the pictures that Pyrrha hadn't seen, at the pictures that had convinced some of the Arcs, if not all of them, before she derisively threw the scroll away.

"Fakes," she pronounced. "You can't even see her face!"

Jaune added, "And did you notice that she's not—"

"Wearing Pyrrha's circlet, either, yes," Sunset agreed. "That's more visible from behind than it is from the front, but there's no sign of it on those pictures."

"I saw—"

"I said silence, you lowborn dog!" Sunset roared. Her voice dropped, becoming sharp as Soteria's edge. "Silence, you cur, that dares to slander Pyrrha's name, that name which cannot be blotted with any just reproach, yet you, with the stench of…" She sniffed the air. "Is that perfume I smell on you?"

"What?" Sky asked.

"Yes," Sunset said. "I can smell it with my equine faunus nose, you smell of perfume."

"Rouge doesn't wear perfume," Kendal said.

"We aren't talkin' about me," Ruben yelped.

"Maybe we should; it is more proof than you have offered," Sunset said. "Or I could just box your ears for temerity. I might do that anyway."

"But she's wearing Pyrrha's fancy clothes," River pointed out.

"Clothes can be worn by people other than their owner," Sunset said.

"Which dress is being worn in the picture?" Pyrrha asked.

"The red one," Jaune said. "With the cape thing with the sleeves—"

"The bolero," Sunset supplied.

"But that's the dress that's missing!" Pyrrha cried.

"What?" Gold Arc said. "'Missing'?"

"Yes, sir," Pyrrha said. "If you go and check my luggage, you will not find my red dress there, and as you can plainly see, I am not wearing it." She paused. "I understand that some of you believed what you saw, but I hope that none of you will think so ill of me that you believe I would discard the dress to hide the evidence of my misdeed."

River blinked. "So … someone stole your dress, and wore it, to pretend to be you and kiss Red Beauregard? Why would anyone do that?"

"Why indeed, Ruben?" Kendal asked, folding her arms.

"You think that … that I set this up?" Ruben demanded.

"You know, it's kind of hard to have a nap upstairs when you're all being so loud down here," Aoko said, as she ambled down the stairs. She blinked owlishly as she looked around the room. "Did I miss something?"

"Either Pyrrha cheated on Jaune, or Ruben tried to fake it so it looked as though Pyrrha cheated on Jaune."

"It's the second one," Jaune said.

Pyrrha squeezed his hand gratefully.

Aoko was silent for a moment. "Wow, jackass move … whichever of you it was."

"Hey, Aoko," Sky said, "you're good with computers and stuff, right?"

"I'm a software engineer. So … kinda," Aoko said.

"So, you can pick up Ruben's scroll — it's over there on the floor — and tell us if those pictures are fake or not, right?" Sky asked.

Aoko was silent for a moment, but she did begin to shuffle across the room. "Where?"

"Here," Sunset said, and her hand glowed with magic once again as, for the second time, she picked up the scroll and levitated up into Aoko's hands.

"Thank you … whoever you are," Aoko said. She looked at the pictures — Pyrrha was glad she couldn't see them; she had no desire to do so — for a moment. Like Sunset before her, she tapped at the screens, although not swiping; rather, her fingers played across the device as though she were typing something.

"I haven't conducted a full analysis, but I don't think these are fakes," Aoko said, "because they were only taken forty minutes ago, and I don't think that's enough time for an amateur to create a convincing fake."

"You can tell when the photo was taken?" Sky asked. "Wow, you really are good."

"Not really, I just looked at the date and time stamp of the file in 'properties,'" Aoko said. "As Sheriff, shouldn't you know how to do that?"

"The important thing," Jaune said, "is that Pyrrha was on the porch then, with me and Sunset, so she couldn't have been with Red then! Thanks, Aoko, you're the best!"

"Am I really the only one who knew how to do that?"

"Pyrrha," River murmured. "I … I'm so sorry, it just, it really looked like you, and they were wearing your clothes—"

"I understand," Pyrrha said. She wasn't incredibly happy about it; she would have rather been believed, but on the assumption that it was a convincing fake — she wasn't about to ask — then she could understand why these people who didn't know her very well might have been taken in by it. "You were only looking out for Jaune, I'm sure."

"And doing a poor job of it, again," Rouge said. "It appears we owe you another apology, Pyrrha; I beg your forgiveness." She glared at her husband. "And as for you, Ruben, how could you?"

"Honey—"

"Don't 'honey' me!" Rouge yelled. "How could you treat Jaune that way? I … I know that I have not always been a good wife to you. I know that … that my condition has made it impossible for me to be a good wife to you, to perform the foremost duty of a wife, to render to you that which a wife should render to her husband, and so I have ignored … I have ignored the other women. I have ignored Jolene Parton—"

"Jolene Parton!" Sky cried. "That's who it was in the photo, isn't it? She's got red hair just like Pyrrha!" She paused. "And she wears perfume too; have you been sleeping with Jolene Parton?"

"Yes, he has," Rouge said quietly. "For some time now."

"You … you knew?" Ruben gasped.

"You deserved to find what happiness you could, even if you were stuck with me for a wife," Rouge said. "And so, I … looked away and slept in another room. But this … to do this to Jaune? To try and break his heart, to lie about Pyrrha, to try and break her heart … why? How could you be so cruel to someone who has done you no wrong?"

"Do you really need to know?" Sunset asked. "Can't I just hit him already?"

"You'll have to get in line," Sky growled.

"Sky, Miss Shimmer, wait," Rouge urged. "I would like to hear what Ruben has to say for himself.

Ruben took a step back towards the corridor that led out towards the front door. All the eyes that had been turned on Pyrrha were now affixed on him, and this time, not even Sky or Kendal were not hostile.

"You … you have no idea," Ruben said. "You treat me like garbage—"

"Because you are, seems like," Sunset said.

"You all treated Jaune just the same way that I did, but when I did it, you decided that I was too hard on him, I was the bad guy, you looked down on me so that you didn't have to look at yourselves!" Ruben yelled. "And you kept on looking down on me, even though I stuck around, I worked for all of you! And then Jaune runs away, steals from his family, but then he comes back, and it's all smiles and isn't it great and what an amazing girlfriend you have, Jaune. He comes in swaggering, acting like a man now. Yes, I wanted to break them up, I wanted to make him cry. Why should Jaune have a beauty like that, when I'm stuck married to half a woman—"

"Okay, now someone hit him," Gold said.

"Gladly," Sunset growled.

"Sunset," Pyrrha said, in a voice that was at once gentle and yet firm enough to fill the room. "Wait a moment, if you please."

She let go of Jaune's hand and stepped forwards, her heels tapping on the wooden floorboards of the Arcs' dining room, her red skirt swishing around her, rustling a little as she advanced on Ruben.

She stared into his eyes. Her own eyes were as hard as the emeralds they were so often said to resemble.

"Mister Meade-Arc," she said, "although it may be only Mister Meade soon enough … in my culture, you have given me cause to challenge you to a duel to the death."

Ruben's eyes widened. "The … to the death?"

"Quite," Pyrrha said. "You should think yourself fortunate that we are not in Mistral. Instead, I will answer your offences in the Valish way."

She hit him, her fist snapping out and upwards to strike his nose with a sickening crunch. Ruben's head snapped backwards as a cry of pain escaped from between his lips. He reeled backwards, but Pyrrha caught him by the arm before he had gone more than a step. She twisted his arm, spinning him around and pinioning him with it.

"I sympathise with your feeling trapped and unhappy," she said as Ruben groaned in her iron grasp. "It is … not a pleasant situation in which to find oneself. But that does not give you the right to vent your frustrations upon Jaune nor meddle with ill-intent in mine and Jaune's relationship! How … how dare you?"

"I think this is the angriest I've ever seen you," Sunset observed.

"That I am patient does not make me endlessly so," Pyrrha declared. "I am not an ass, to bear without complaint ever more slights and insults, one upon the other, and never cast them off. Call me a liar, call me an adulteress, call me such things that I will not repeat, try and snatch from me the…" — she took a deep breath — "the best thing that has ever been mine."

She shoved Ruben away, towards the wall, and stood there, in the dining room, with all the Arc family looking on. Her chest rose and fell.

I hope I didn't go too far. "I … I am sorry, sir," she said. "I am not … I know not what came over me."

"I don't know why you stopped," Sky muttered.

"I will keep friends with you, Pyrrha," Sunset said. There was a flash of green light as she teleported the distance between herself and Ruben, appearing behind him and grabbing him by the arm that Pyrrha had only just released. "But you, you wretch, you knave, you insolent dog," Sunset growled. "You … you fool." She shook her head. "What are we going to do with you?"

Ruben looked around desperately. "Rouge," he said. "Rouge, I—"

"Divorce proceedings will begin shortly," Rouge said softly. "What you have done to me is unimportant, but it will serve as a fitting pretext. In the meantime … go. You're not welcome in this house anymore."

"But where am I supposed to go?"

"To Jolene Parton, if she'll have you!" Rouge cried. "Anywhere you like!"

"Everywhere," Sunset said.

"Wh-what?" Ruben asked.

"You're going to go everywhere, across this whole village," Sunset said. She released Ruben from her grasp. "You're going to go to everyone, to every door, and you're going to tell them what you did, and you're going to tell them that your wife has thrown you out, and you're going to show everyone what a pathetic worm you are. And I'm going to follow you and make sure you do it."

Ruben said nothing. He half turned around to stare at Sunset, eyes wide with disbelief.

Sunset raised her hand. The green light of her magic crackled between her fingertips. "Quick march," she said.

Ruben did more than march. He scrambled for the door, his footsteps thudding as he ran towards the door. Sunset followed him out, her pace a little slower but infinitely more steady.

Within the house, silence reigned.

Without a word, Jaune walked to Pyrrha's side and once more took her hand.

"Rouge, sweetie," Gold murmured, "you … you knew that he was cheating on you? And you didn't … you didn't say anything?"

"He … he wasn't wrong," Rouge said. "We didn't treat him well."

"We treated him like he deserved," Sky said.

"Did we?" Rouge asked. "We did treat Jaune badly, but we then judged Ruben for doing the same. It isn't only Pyrrha that we owe an apology too. Jaune—"

"It doesn't matter," Jaune said quickly. "I mean … if I hadn't … if I hadn't been the person that I am, if I'd been someone else, not the person that you all made me, I wouldn't have met Pyrrha or found my team, so … so it all ended up okay for me, in the end. But you … that doesn't excuse what he did."

"But the fact that I cannot—"

"Rouge, dear, don't say that," Honeysuckle said, stepping forward to wrap her arms around her daughter. "That isn't your fault."

"Maybe not, Mom, but it's a fact anyway."

"You should have told me," Gold said. "You shouldn't have had to … I liked him."

"It's okay, Dad; we've all made some bad judgements lately," Sky said, looking at Pyrrha.

Rouge glanced at her. "Nobody would blame you if you gave up on us."

Pyrrha shook her head. "Everything you have done," she said, "you've done because you love Jaune.

"I understand that perfectly, because after all, I love him too."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Put a Ring On It​

"I've got to say, I'm a little surprised," Kendal said as she fastened Pyrrha's dress — this particular dress didn't have a zipper running up the back; rather, a few buttons which not only exposed some of her back to view but also couldn't be manipulated with Polarity — behind her.

Pyrrha stood facing the window, although the curtains were drawn. She turned her head so that she was looking at Kendal over her shoulder. "'Surprised'? Surprised by what?"

Kendal snorted. "That you still think we're worth getting dressed up for."

"Do you include yourself in that?" Pyrrha asked. "You were on my side, and Sky. And Terra, for that matter."

Kendal chuckled. "'A princess of the old blood would never behave in such a way.'"

"Excuse me?"

"What Terra said, in your defence," Kendal explained. "When Ruben said he'd caught you cheating on Jaune, Terra said … well, she said that. 'A princess of the old blood would never behave in such a way.' Is that true?"

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. "I think a true princess of the old blood would have mounted Ruben's head upon a pike," she murmured.

Kendal was silent for a moment. "Really?"

"Mistral's history is … frequently rather violent," Pyrrha said quietly. "Are you going to be alright?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean with Ruben," Pyrrha said. "He's still technically Rouge's husband, and … is he going to cause trouble for you?"

"He might try," Kendal replied, "but I doubt he'll get anywhere, not now that everyone knows what he did — thanks to your Sunset for making sure of that; that was clever of her. Makes me want to make sure I stay on her good side, but very clever all the same."

"Sunset … understands the power of social opinion," Pyrrha said. From having been on the wrong side of it. "And she's very protective."

"Of you?"

"Of all of us," Pyrrha said. "I am, I have been, less in need of protection than Ruby or Jaune, or even Blake, but … my mother charged her with my protection, and so, yes, she does take that seriously."

"Right," Kendal said. "You're all done, by the way."

"Oh, thank you," Pyrrha said; she turned around, her red skirt flowing around her like water, rustling lightly as it moved. "How do I look?"

Kendal smirked. "Better than mortal Arcs deserve."

"Stop, please," Pyrrha pleaded gently.

For tonight, for her last night here in Alba Longa, she wore a gown of red, styled somewhat loosely after an old-fashioned chiton or peplos from Mistral's history, which meant that though the skirt reached all the way down to the floor and covered her feet, it did not expand very far outwards around her. There was gold scrollwork just above the hem; at her hips, dipping slightly between them, there was a golden belt. Gold decorated the bodice also, a golden line passing around her body just beneath her breasts, passing upwards in an inverted V to reach the top of her sweetheart neckline, said neckline being adorned with little beads of gold that sparkled when they caught the light. The sleeves were short, and Pyrrha had left all the clasps that would have fastened them up undone so that they were scarcely sleeves at all, but rather flaps of fabric falling off her shoulders and down by her sides towards her waist, leaving her pale arms bare to the world. Her armband was upon her arm above the elbow, while upon her wrists, she wore a pair of golden bracers, and her gorget was clasped tightly around her neck. Her circlet gleamed upon her brow, where it was not hidden behind her bangs, just as it always did.

Just as it had not in the faked pictures that Ruben had sought to use to mar her reputation.

Forgetting her circlet, indeed. There were little girls attending Fighting Fan Expo for the first time who remembered to include a circlet as part of their Pyrrha costumes, even if it was only a bit of gold foil wrapped around their foreheads — some of those costumes were very adorable.

"When you dress like that," Kendal said, "it makes your protestations of modesty ring just a little bit false. You can't dress to impress and then insist that you never meant to make an impression."

A little laugh escaped from Pyrrha's lips. "No, I … I suppose not." She glanced at her case. "It was very good of Sky to go and get my dress from … that woman, what was her name?"

"Jolene Parton."

"Do you know her?"

"Everyone knows her," Kendal muttered. "Ruben's a fool if he thinks she'll take him in, let alone marry him once Rouge finalises the divorce."

"She doesn't love him, then?"

"She was in love with everything he'd come into once he inherited Dad's estate," Kendal replied. "The house, the land, we're not as well off as you, but there's a bit tucked away."

"And it would all have gone to Ruben?" Pyrrha asked. "Not to any of you, or Jaune?"

"If you had brothers or sisters, would your inheritance get divided up, or would you get the whole thing?"

"I would," Pyrrha conceded. "Assuming, in that scenario, that I was still the eldest. Custom would dictate that I take care of my younger siblings, at least, unless, or until they found other ways of supporting themselves: successful careers, good marriages, that sort of thing. However … nobody could actually compel me to do so."

Kendal smiled. "And so we come back to my question: is it true that a princess of the old blood would never behave in such a way?"

"I wish that it were so," Pyrrha murmured. "But all I can say for certain is that I would not behave in such a fashion, not because I am a princess, or because I am of the old blood of Mistral, but because I am … because I am myself, and being myself, I hope I am … a better person than that."

Kendal smiled, but it was a sad smile, like a sun partly obscured by clouds. "Be happy," she said. "You will, won't you, the two of you?"

Pyrrha reached out, and took her hands. "In our lives … I cannot say what the future holds for us, what challenges, what obstacles." Unfortunately, I can say more … almost more than I would like upon that particular subject. "But so long as I am with him and he is with me, as long as we are together, then … then he will be my light, and I will always take joy in his presence, as I hope that he will in mine."

Someone knocked on the bedroom door. "Pyrrha?" Jaune said. "Are you ready?"

Kendal's eyebrows rose. "Well? Are you?"

Pyrrha glanced down at her nails. She had painted them red tonight, matching her dress. "I believe I am, yes," she said, smiling as she picked up a shawl of golden silk and draped it around her body, falling towards the floor as it rested on her elbows.

Kendal made way for her, although in the cramped conditions of her room, that meant getting up onto the camp bed so that Pyrrha could walk down the central aisle of the room and open the door.

Jaune stood on the other side, dressed in his black suit.

"Hey!" His eyes widened and his mouth opened at the sight of her. "You look amazing. As always."

"Thank you," Pyrrha whispered, a bright smile lighting up her face. "And you changed."

"Well, you make an effort every night. I figured that I could do worse than to do the same," Jaune said. "And Mom had washed my suit for me, so there wasn't anything to stop me from wearing it."

"You look very handsome," Pyrrha said. "Although, if I may say, you looked better in gold."

"Really? That's … something I'll keep in mind," Jaune said. He looked as though he were about to hold out his arm to her, but did not. Instead, he reached out his hands towards her, taking hers in his fingers. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Pyrrha said quickly.

"Pyrrha," Jaune said. "You can be honest. I won't … you don't have to pretend with me, remember? If it had gotten to you … I wouldn't blame you. If you didn't want to go downstairs, I wouldn't blame you either. Seriously, are you okay?"

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. She kept her eyes fixed on him, her green eyes staring into his blue ones. "Did you ever think that it might be true?"

"No," Jaune said. "I know that if you fall for someone else, you'll tell me first."

"Jaune," Pyrrha sighed. "But you thought that I could have fallen for someone else?"

Jaune shrugged. "It would be kind of arrogant to think you never would, wouldn't it?"

"Not when I have told you that I will not," Pyrrha said. "Do you doubt the constancy of my heart?"

"I don't doubt you in anything," Jaune insisted. "I doubt myself."

"You should not," Pyrrha said, taking one hand away from his to touch his face, first to brush some of the soft hair from out of his forehead and then to stroke his cheek. "You are a better man than those who made you feel small."

Jaune reached up and took her hand in his once more. His palm was warm against her skin, and his fingers were gentle.

"Are you okay?" he asked again.

"If you had doubted me, I would not be," Pyrrha admitted. "But, since you did not, I am content."

"And my family?"

"Have acted always out of love for you, as I said."

"That doesn't make it right."

"With less proof, I would bear more grief," Pyrrha admitted. "But this other woman was dressed like me, and though she wasn't wearing my circlet, I suppose they haven't known me long enough to realise that I am so rarely seen without it. I told you, I did not want to make you choose between us; I will not, now that they are contrite, and with their reasons and actions being understandable."

Jaune leaned forwards and kissed her. "You're amazing," he said.

If only that were true, Pyrrha thought. "And you are the only man whom I desire." If I say it often enough, perhaps you will believe it.

Jaune nodded, a smile playing across his face as he took a step back, and this time, he did offer her his arm. "If you want to go down, if you're determined … shall we go?"

Pyrrha placed her hand upon his elbow. "I think we shall," she said.

They walked together down the stairs, her hand upon his arm, the other resting lightly upon the bannister, as Kendal trailed behind them, following upon their heels.

The three of them were amongst the last to arrive; even Aoko was seated at the table when they got there; aside from Jaune, Pyrrha, and Kendal, the only other people missing were Adrian, who was probably upstairs in his room, Sky, and Sunset.

River did not meet Pyrrha's eyes. She looked everywhere in the room but at Pyrrha and Jaune. Chester put his hands upon her shoulders and whispered something into her ear. Violet looked sullen, pouting and crossing her arms. Rouge … Rouge bore an expression that Pyrrha knew well: of studied, practiced lack of emotion. The kind of face you wore when you didn't want anyone to know what you were feeling, and so you acted as though you felt practically nothing at all.

Pyrrha's heart went out to her; she wanted to say something, but … but she couldn't think of anything to say. She could hardly imagine — she couldn't imagine — what Jaune's eldest sister was going through: to have been betrayed, repeatedly, by the person who was supposed to love you most, to cherish you most, to be your rock and support and helpmate for all your life. To have been betrayed by them and to know about it and to … to put up with it, to almost convince yourself that you deserved it?

No, Pyrrha could not imagine what Rouge was going through, what she had gone through all these years.

And, having no idea, she had no idea what she could say on the subject, although it seemed as though Rouge needed someone to say something to her.

All Pyrrha could do was hope that she found the happiness that had eluded her so far.

"Jaune," Gold said. "Pyrrha. You look very nice."

"Thank you, sir," Pyrrha said softly.

"Pyrrha," Violet muttered, before saying something else so quietly that Pyrrha couldn't hear it.

"Excuse me?" Pyrrha asked.

Violet sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you earlier," she said, every word sounding like it was being dragged out of her.

"Apology accepted, Violet. I'm sure it looked convincing to someone who didn't know me."

"Ruben could be a bit of a jackass," Chester said, "but we all thought he had the best interests of the family at heart. He … always seemed to know what he was doing."

"He knew what he was doing alright," Kendal muttered.

"I blame myself," said Gold.

"Dad," Rouge began, "it isn't—"

"Yes," Gold said, "it is. I'm the one who thought that he would be a good husband for you, I'm the one who gave him my blessing, I … I'm sorry, sweetie. I made a terrible choice, and you've paid for it."

"Perhaps there's a lesson here," Kendal said. "About how we should all stop interfering in one another's love lives."

Gold looked at her. "Is this the part where you tell us that you have a boyfriend I don't know about?"

"N-no, Dad, I … I just—"

"I think what Kendal is saying," Saphron said, "is that not everyone was very welcoming to Terra at first, just like not everyone was very welcoming to Pyrrha, and yet … it turns out that we knew what was best for ourselves."

"I feel the need to point out that my marriage is going pretty well too," River pointed out.

"Nevertheless," Rouge said. "Saphron, and Kendal, have a point. Perhaps we could do with being a little less judgemental and controlling." She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at Jaune. "Treat her right, Jaune," she said. "Don't hurt her or take her for granted."

"That," Gold said, "might be the only advice you ever need for a happy partnership."

Pyrrha heard the front door open, and footsteps in the hall, before Sky led Sunset into the dining room. Sky had exchanged her sheriff's uniform for a white blouse and black skirt. Sunset was wearing a one-piece summer dress of purple, shading into pink as it descended towards the hem of her skirt, which was short and stopped above her knees. Upon her chest was stamped her flaming sun symbol, while the off-the-shoulder neckline exposed a pair of spaghetti straps across her shoulders. Around her neck, Sunset was wearing a dark purple choker, while her gloves upon her hands and arms added an incongruous touch to her outfit.

As, in point of fact, did her boots.

"Good evening, everyone," Sunset said. "Pyrrha, Jaune."

"Good evening, Sunset," Pyrrha said.

"Hey, Sunset," said Jaune.

"Well, now that everyone's here, I'll start getting everything out onto the table," Honeysuckle said as she turned towards the kitchen.

"I'll help, Mom," Rouge said.

"No, dear, you sit down," Honeysuckle insisted. "Sky can give me a hand, can't you?"

Sky smiled. "Sure thing, Mom." She followed her mother into the kitchen, the doors swinging back and forth after her as she passed in.

Gold sat down at the head of the table. "Go ahead, sit down, everyone," he said, gesturing to the empty spaces with both hands. "Jaune, why don't you sit up at the top next to your mother, and Pyrrha you can sit up there next to Rouge?"

Jaune's eyebrows rose. "Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have said it if I wasn't," Gold said, "come on!"

It had been somewhat clear from her first night here in Alba Longa with the Arcs that the place at the table was correlated to status in the family, if only on a temporary basis, with father and mother at the top, with the eldest daughter sitting likewise near the head. Pyrrha could not help but recall that, on that first night, she and Jaune had found themselves sitting near the bottom of the table.

Although she did not think Aoko had sat at the very foot of the table because she was in bad odour with the family; rather, given that she took that seat again tonight, it seemed that she just liked it there.

It was not an exact correlation; nevertheless, it seemed from Jaune's reaction to mean something, and what it meant was good.

That was … also good. Despite what had happened, despite the attitudes of certain members of the family, Pyrrha's objectives were unchanged: she wanted their acceptance, so that when — if, but she very much hoped when — Jaune made her truly a part of his family, they would not stand in her way.

And that, she thought, she had accomplished. At the party, when they had invited her to join them, that had shown their true feelings towards her; what came after, what seeming proof of malice had made them think … and now, she thought that they were embarrassed by the way that some of them had behaved, but she did not think they bore her any malice.

The fact that she and Jaune had been invited to sit up at the top of the table was proof of that.

Jaune pulled out a chair for her, and Pyrrha smiled at him as she sat down, pulling her shawl up onto her shoulders so that it didn't fall onto the floor.

Kendal took the seat next to Jaune, while by unspoken consensus, the seat next to Pyrrha — the one on her left, the one on her right being taken by Rouge — seemed to be left empty for Sky, just as the seat on Gold's right was left for Honeysuckle. Sunset took the chair next to Sky, giving her a temporarily empty space from which to look up at Pyrrha, while Violet sat next to her, Terra opposite, and Saphron next to Terra; River and Chester took the farthest most seats down at the foot of the table with Aoko.

Honeysuckle and Sky brought out the meal, which tonight was a joint of lamb, cooked in a red wine sauce with mushrooms, parsnips, carrots, and onions, and served alongside new potatoes, mashed potatoes, mashed sweet potatoes, broccoli, and cauliflower. As before, everyone helped themselves to the vegetables, but Honeysuckle sliced the lamb as plates were passed down to her, stopping when everyone said that they were satisfied.

"No, thank you, ma'am," Sunset said, raising one hand when it was her turn to pass her plate up. "I don't eat meat."

"Oh, right," Jaune winced, "Yeah, I probably should have said something."

"Yes," Sunset said, "yes, you probably should."

"Sorry."

"You don't eat meat?" Gold repeated. "Not at all?"

"No, sir," Sunset said. "I'm afraid I'm not secure enough in my superiority over animals."

"Are you going to be alright?" Honeysuckle asked. "Or do you need me to—?"

"I will be fine, ma'am; there is plenty else," Sunset assured her. "I wouldn't want you to let your own meal grow cold on my account."

Sky dished up the sauce, ladling it and its attendant vegetables out onto the meat and onto the potatoes. Once done, once every plate — even Sunset's — was laden down with food, then Sky and Honeysuckle sat down.

"I'd like to say grace, if that's okay with everybody?" Sky said.

"Go ahead, sweetie," Gold replied.

Sky held out her hands to Pyrrha and Sunset. Pyrrha smiled a little, her lips closed as she placed her hand inside Sky's palm.

Sunset looked a little confused, but did the same, and after a moment, she held out her hand for River sat beside her.

Sky was silent.

"We give thanks," she said. "We give thanks…" She looked around the table. "We give thanks for the fact that we are still here. We give thanks for the fact that, although some of us may wander far from home, we are still and will always be a family, bound together, no matter what life throws at us, how difficult or unexpected, no matter how much we drive one another crazy sometimes. We give thanks for the fact that this family keeps on growing, with Terra, with Adrian, with the little one growing inside of River … and with Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune's girlfriend. We give thanks for the fact that she still wants to be Jaune's girlfriend after all we've put her through."

Kendal snorted. Pyrrha couldn't suppress a chuckle. Sunset's eyebrows rose.

"We give thanks for the fact that although we may make mistakes, we have the chance to learn from them and to do better. Because, like our great-great-grandfather said, the future is in our hands.

"For what we are about to receive, may we be truly grateful."

Everyone began to eat, and for a moment, there was no sound but the clicking of cutlery upon plates.

"May I say, ma'am, that that is a rather nice ring on your finger," Sunset said.

Honeysuckle glanced down at said finger, and upon the emerald ring that glistened there. "Oh? Oh, yes, it is lovely, isn't it? Gold gave it to me when he asked me to marry him."

Sunset smiled. "Even at this distance, I can tell you have good taste, sir."

Gold chuckled. "I'd love to take credit for that, but that ring belonged to my mother; she gave it to me when she realised that I was serious about Honeysuckle, so that I could pass it on."

"Ah, an antique," Sunset said. "I don't suppose that your father got it from his mother to give to yours, by any chance?"

Gold was silent for a moment. "Yeah, yeah my father did say something about that."

"A family heirloom," Sunset murmured. "Ma'am, this may sound impertinent, but I don't suppose I could look at the ring briefly?"

"Why?" asked Kendal.

"It goes back at least three generations; it may be older still," Sunset explained.

"It's just a ring," said Saphron.

"Perhaps," Sunset allowed. "But there may be something in it. With your permission, ma'am."

"I don't see what you expect to learn from a ring, like Kendal said, but if you're interested," Honeysuckle said, taking the emerald ring off her finger and passing it to Jaune, who passed it down to Kendal, who passed it across the table to Sky, and seemed to do so in such a way that Pyrrha could get a good look at the ring, which was more detailed than it had looked from the moderate distance at which she had seen it glimmering upon Honeysuckle's finger. It was, in any event, a beautiful ring, with a large emerald — large for a ring, at least — set in a band of gold, but the gold that held the stone in place was thicker than one might have expected and styled in such a way that it resembled the golden crescents that Jaune bore upon his shield: two arcs of gold — or Arcs of gold — holding the emerald in place. And, now that Pyrrha could look at it more closely, she could see that what she had taken to be a band of gold was in fact a pair of serpents coiling around one another, their mouths meeting around the stone.

Sky passed the ring to Sunset, who turned it over in her hands, examining every part of it, even the insides.

"Fine work," she murmured. "May I take some pictures?"

"Be my guest," Honeysuckle said.

"Thank you, ma'am," Sunset said as she got out her scroll — she was keeping it strapped to her arm, hidden beneath the collar of her dress — and took several pictures of the exterior and the interior of the ring. "Thank you, again," she said as she handed the ring back to Sky.

The ring made its way back to Honeysuckle Arc, and the meal continued for a little longer.

"Mom, Dad, everyone," Jaune said, before he stuck a forkful of lamb in his mouth, rendering the rest of what he had to say quite unintelligible.

"Don't talk with your mouth full, dear," Honeysuckle reproached him gently.

Jaune swallowed. "Sorry, Mom. What I was trying to say was that me and Pyrrha and Sunset will be leaving tomorrow, to go back to Beacon."

There was a moment of silence at the table.

"Had to happen sometime, I guess," Sky said.

"So soon?" Honeysuckle asked. "You've only just arrived. Your friend has literally only just arrived."

"If there had been more to find, I would have stayed longer, ma'am, though I cannot speak for Jaune and Pyrrha," Sunset said. "But, for myself … my being here any longer would be futile; there is nothing to be learned earlier than the history of this place itself, and that does not concern me."

"Because founding a town isn't enough?" River asked.

"A town a little more than one hundred years ago?" Sunset asked. "No, not when set against the heritage that Pyrrha can boast of." She snorted. "Not that Pyrrha boasts, of course."

"So … are you like Pyrrha's mom's spy?" asked Violet.

Sunset leaned back in her chair a little. "No," she said. "I am not a spy. If I were, I would hardly be sitting down to dinner with you all — by the way, ma'am, these sweet potatoes are very well cooked — would I?" She paused. "But I am her sworn woman, I suppose. She gave me a blade which once belonged to a retainer of her family, and what is more, I have taken a monthly stipend against my combat expenses. I am bound to her, by ties of duty and honour."

"Or why else would you come up here to research our family history so that she can decide if Jaune is worthy to date Pyrrha," Kendal said. "It's not exactly any of your concern, is it?"

"The happiness of my teammates is absolutely my concern," Sunset replied.

"'Teammates'?" Rouge repeated. "Not friends."

"They are my friends too, do not mistake me," Sunset corrected. "But as a mere friend. I would have no … duty of care."

"'Duty of care'?" Sky repeated.

Sunset smiled. "If I thought that these two were bad for one another, I would be as zealous in trying to separate them as I think that you have been, at various times."

Silence fell in response to that remark.

"Perhaps the fact that you have been so zealous rendered that in somewhat poor taste," Sunset muttered.

"A little bit, yeah," Jaune said.

"Don't say it like that!" Sunset cried. "Have I ever been anything less than a hundred percent supportive of the two of you?"

Do the times that you have implied or outright stated that I could do better count? Pyrrha wondered. However, she did not mention them, in part because she didn't want to knock Jaune's confidence, and in part because — as far as she knew, but she trusted Sunset so far in this; she did not believe that she would say such things to Jaune — she had only said them privately to Pyrrha, and even then without the intent to persuade her to change her conduct in any way. In that sense, she had been nothing but benign.

"No," Jaune admitted. "No, you've been a big help, actually."

"I only wish that I could have taught you enough to impress Lady Nikos, the way that Pyrrha has impressed your relatives," Sunset murmured.

"'Lady Nikos'?" Sky said. "Is that … is that what you call Pyrrha's mom?"

Sunset glanced at her. "I could hardly call her 'Pyrrha's mom,' could I?" She placed some broccoli into her mouth.

"Doesn't she have a name?" asked Chester.

"Her name is Lady Nikos," Sunset replied.

"My mother's name is Hippolyta," Pyrrha said softly.

"Which I have not been invited to use," Sunset pointed out. "Better to be too respectful than not enough."

"Is that a thing?" Saphron whispered to Terra. "Do you just call people 'Lady This' or 'Lord That'?"

"In Mistral proper, yes," Terra informed her. "The chances of finding a lord or lady in Argus are very slim, and even if you did, there's sufficient Atlesian influence upon the city that you could probably get away with not observing that particular courtesy, but the short answer … yes."

"Your culture can be very strange sometimes."

"My culture is perfectly normal," Terra declared. "Your culture is crass and boorish and wears its hat in the parlour. And besides, you chose to live in Argus; I didn't move to Vale."

"A decision I haven't regretted for a moment," Saphron said, kissing Terra on the cheek. "Wait, does that mean we should have been calling Pyrrha 'Lady Pyrrha'?"

"No," Pyrrha said firmly. "There is absolutely no need for that."

"So…" Violet began, and then trailed off for a second, before saying, "are you going to tell her that we thought Pyrrha was cheating on Jaune?"

"Violet, is there really any need to ask that here?" Rouge demanded.

"I want to know if we've made any trouble for Jaune," Violet explained.

"I will say nothing of it," Sunset declared. "What is there to say, after all? An odious toad attempted to slander Pyrrha's reputation, but Pyrrha's reputation proved to be beyond slander. Such petty pibble pabble is nothing that need reach the ears of Lady Nikos."

"Thank you, Sunset," Pyrrha said quietly.

"Much obliged, Miss Shimmer," Rouge added.

Sunset shrugged. "As I said: one hundred percent supportive."

"So do you have to leave?" Honeysuckle asked, returning to the initial point. "Surely you and Pyrrha—"

"I guess that Jaune and Pyrrha have to join the rest of their team in preparing for the Vytal Festival," Gold said. "Assuming that you plan to compete."

"Oh, we're going to compete," Sunset declared. "Apart from all other considerations — such as the fact that I relish this opportunity — if Pyrrha did not fight, then the howls of outrage from Mistral would be heard in Argus, no?"

"They would be howling in Argus," Terra corrected her. "You'd be able to hear it over here."

"What is the Vytal Festival?" asked River.

"You don't know— wait, Jaune didn't even know about aura, of course you don't know what the Vytal Festival is," Sunset muttered.

"The Vytal Festival is held every two years in one of the four kingdoms," Gold explained. "They take turns hosting it, and this year, it's the turn of Vale, and Beacon Academy. It's a celebration of the end of the Great War, and peace between all four kingdoms. There are parades, parties, but the big centrepiece is a tournament of students from the four academies: Beacon, Atlas, Haven, and Shade. Teams from all the schools — teams like the one that Jaune is on with Pyrrha and Miss Shimmer here — fight one another in mock battles in a giant floating arena up in the sky, and the huntsman or huntress who defeats all challengers is crowned the winner."

"I don't understand why the number of huntsmen gets smaller," Aoko said from the bottom of the table.

"Because people are losing their fights, I guess," River answered.

"That's not what your sister means," Gold said. "You see, in the first round, all four members of each team fight, but in the second round, the teams that win the first match select just two people to go forward and fight two people from another team who won their match, and then of the pair who win, only a single member goes on to the final round, where they fight other winners in single combat."

"That will be Pyrrha," Sunset said.

Pyrrha said nothing and ate her dinner.

"Did you fight in the tournament, Dad?" asked Jaune.

"My team won the first round match, but they didn't pick me to go into the two on two," Gold explained. "More fool them, they got knocked out."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Pyrrha murmured.

"We were always an outside chance," Gold said. "And when there can only be one winner, well, then there have to be a lot of losers, right? But, I had a great time at the festival, and getting to fight in that arena in front of all those people — what a rush!"

Pyrrha smiled. "It is quite exhilarating," she agreed. "The roar of the crowd in your ears, the sound of their applause, their cheering. It can be intimidating, to have so many eyes upon you, so many hopes resting on your shoulders, but … quite exciting, at the same time."

Gold nodded. "You know, if you two are going to compete," he said, "we might…"

"Dad?" Kendal prompted, as he fell silent.

"I was just thinking, we might actually have to get a TV so that we can watch it," Gold said.

"Jaune's going to be on TV?!" Violet cried.

"The Vytal Festival is one of the biggest events in all of Remnant," Gold said. "It's televised everywhere, live. And it … you know, it wouldn't feel right for Jaune to be fighting in front of millions of people and not be watching him ourselves."

"Yes, we have to support Jaune and Pyrrha," Rouge declared. "That's a great idea, Dad."

"You're all going to be watching?" Jaune said. "I don't know whether to be thrilled or terrified."

"It will be fine, Jaune," Pyrrha assured him. "Believe me when I say that the terrors of the arena are nothing compared to some of the things that we've been through recently."

Jaune looked up at her. "No, no, I guess they're not, are they?"

"How are you two feeling?" Terra asked. "Confident?"

"Yeah!" Sunset cried. "We're going to blow our way to the one on one round, and once we get there … Pyrrha will do what she does best."

What I do best indeed. Perhaps the only thing that I can do.

"I … will do my utmost not to disappoint anybody," Pyrrha said. "I will honour the expectations that everyone has of me and bear the dignity of Team Sapphire proudly."

"Count on us," Sunset said. "Because we're going to go all the way."

"I hope so, because we'll all be watching," Gold said. "A toast, everyone: to Jaune and Pyrrha, success … and happiness."

Pyrrha felt a blush rise to her cheeks as everyone raised their glasses.

"To Jaune and Pyrrha!"

XxXxX​

"Jaune?" Mom called from the other side of the bedroom door. "Can I come in?"

"Uh, just a second, Mom," Jaune replied. He'd been in the middle of getting ready for bed, with his jacket and shirt off but with his trousers still on. He grabbed his hoodie off the bed and pulled it over his head. Then he opened the door. "Hey. Is everything okay?"

"Yes, dear, everything's fine," Mom said, a bright smile upon her face. "Everything's wonderful. Of course I'm sad that you're leaving so soon, but … I suppose you had to go away again sometime."

Jaune nodded and smiled himself. "Yeah, Mom, I did. Just like I told you I would."

"I'm not here to argue about that, Jaune, believe me," Mom assured her. "You've made your choice … in every way. Can I come in? I feel awkward standing out here, and besides…" — she glanced down the hall — "someone might see me."

Jaune frowned, not knowing why it would matter if someone saw Mom in her own house talking to him. "Um, okay, come on in."

He stepped back, letting her enter.

Mom walked inside his room, closing the door behind her. She looked around, a sigh escaping from her lips. "I remember when I used to come in here to see if you'd cleaned this place like I told you to or not," she said. "I remember when you used to try and hide the comic books you'd been reading from me."

"And you always found them anyway," Jaune said, a little laughter in his voice.

"Mothers always know, or they should," Mom said. She half turned away from him, clasping her hands together. "I know that I haven't always been the best mother, and I'm sorry for that—"

"Mom, you don't have to—"

"Yes, Jaune, I do," Mom replied, looking at him even though she didn't actually turn to face him. "You weren't happy here. You were so unhappy that you ran away from home, and that … that is at least partly my fault. I thought more about what I wanted than about what you wanted, when all I really ought to have wanted was that you'd be happy. I only hope that … that even if I am responsible for you being unhappy, I'm also partly responsible for the fact that you've been able to do so well out there in the world."

"You are, Mom, definitely," Jaune said. "My teammates definitely appreciate that you taught me to cook."

Mom chuckled. "Well, that's wonderful to hear." She paused for a moment. "I was always a little worried that you'd end up alone. I suppose that should have been a sign to me that you needed to leave this place, get out of here, find people who understood you better. And you did, and I … I'm so happy for you Jaune."

"Mom," Jaune murmured. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because I think the time has come," Mom said, "for me to do what every Arc mother does, when the time is right." She plucked the ring from off her finger and held it out to him. "This is for you to give to Pyrrha."

Jaune's eyes widened. "Mom, you … are you serious?"

"I've spoken to your father, and he agrees," Mom said. "Since we don't know when or if you'll be back here, we don't want to miss this chance."

Jaune stared at the ring that was being proffered to him. His mother's ring, the ring that Dad had given her when he asked her to marry him, the ring that grandma had gotten from grandpa, and that great-grandma had probably gotten from great-grandpa too, and who knew how far back it went?

"What … what about Rouge or River?"

"That's not how this works, Jaune," Mom said, shaking her head. "It's for Arc men to give to the loves of their lives."

The love of my life. Pyrrha was certainly that, but … but this ring. An engagement ring, the family engagement ring. It looked so big. It looked so heavy. It looked like such a big, heavy thing to take and then to carry around.

Pyrrha was his future. He knew that, and they had talked about what that would look like, and what that would look like included marrying her, but…

"I don't know if I can," he murmured.

"You love her, don't you?" Mom asked.

"Of course I do, but … I don't know if I'm ready," Jaune admitted, his voice hoarse.

"Oh, Jaune," Mom said. "You don't have to ask her to marry you tomorrow, or next week, or even next year. In your heart, you'll know when the time is right, and when you do … you'll be prepared. Take it, Jaune. When else are we going to be able to give it to you?"

She had a point there; he might not be back here … well, the point was that he didn't know when he'd be back, which was also Mom's point, that was why she was giving him the ring now, so that he was, as she said, prepared.

He wasn't ready right now. It didn't feel right, when they were still in school, when he still hadn't really proven himself at all — at least not to his own satisfaction — when he still hadn't really gained the acceptance of Pyrrha's mother. It was one thing for Pyrrha to date him in spite of what her mother thought, but if they were going to live in Pyrrha's house as man and wife, it would be good if she could at least tolerate him.

He wasn't ready.

But, one day … Jaune found that he could imagine the scene: that place in Mistral that Pyrrha had brought them to, the high place with that great view of the whole city and the waterfall crashing down the side of the mountain. He'd wait until the sun was going down and bathing the world in a warm golden glow, and then … and then he'd get down on one knee and pull out the ring. He'd pull out that ring.

Gently, he reached out and took the ring from his mother's hand.

"You're right," he said. "I don't know when exactly I'll give this to Pyrrha, but I will one day. Thanks, Mom."

XxXxX​

Author's Note: Art by Miku

 

[ScipioSmith]

Rising Temperature​

Nora slurped loudly from the large slushy she gripped in both hands as she walked down the street.

"Is it me, or did the guy who sold this seem kind of rude?" she asked

"Probably just having a bad day," Ruby said.

"I guess," Nora murmured, before putting her lips around the straw again and slurping even more of her orange and mango drink, making the level in the plastic cup drop dramatically.

Yang tucked her hands behind the back of her head. "So, what do you guys want to do first?"

Nora stopped slurping and raised her hand in the air. "Ooh, we should totally check out the new axe-throwing place that just opened up. You throw axes."

Yang grinned. "That does sound pretty cool. What do you think, Ruby?"

Ruby nodded. "Sure, why not?"

"Ren?" Yang asked.

Ren shrugged. "If you're all happy, then I am happy."

"That's not exactly a full-throated endorsement," Nora pointed out. "Is there something that you'd rather do instead?"

"Why make it a question of 'instead'?" Yang asked before Ren could respond. "We've got all day, after all; it's not like we need to get back to Beacon for anything. If there's anything that Ren wants to do, then we can do that too. Something caught your eye, Ren?"

Ren was silent for a moment.

"It's not one or the other, really," Yang insisted. "You can say what you want to do and not feel bad about it."

"Then I wouldn't mind visiting the Escape Room on Mortimer Row," Ren said. "It's supposed to be very challenging."

"Aww, I'm no good at those things," Nora moaned.

"And I don't have the best record at things like axe throwing," Ren pointed out.

"Settle down, children; like I said, it isn't one or the other," Yang declared. "How about you, Ruby?"

"Huh?"

"What do you want to do today?" Yang asked.

"Hmm," Ruby murmured, cupping her chin with one hand as she thought. "Well…" She paused, catching sight of a series of posters plastered to the sides of the building she was passing by. She turned away from Yang and the others to get a better look at it.

The poster had a red background on which was depicted an android, bulkier than an Atlesian combat droid, wearing a sparkling red jacket, while its chest had been painted to look like a white shirt and a red bow tie. The robot was also wearing a top hat, while its face had been painted to resemble clown makeup, with a bright red smile stretching in an exaggerated U across its face and a red nose that looked like it was flashing.

Behind the android that was at once ringmaster and clown were pictures of a robot elephant rearing up and a robot lion baring its teeth.

"'Starhead Industries presents,'" Ruby said. "'Remnant's first ever robot circus. See robots like you've never seen them before.' Hey, that sounds like it might be fun."

"A circus?" Yang said, a little sceptically.

"A robot circus," Ruby corrected her, turning back to the rest of the group. "Even if it isn't great, it'll be cool to see how they got all of the different robots to work. I wonder if they'll have robot clowns, because programming humour must be really hard."

"Maybe they'll just have scary clowns," Yang muttered. "But if that's what you want, then sure, we'll fit that in."

The four of them were in Vale, where the day was bright, and — despite the fact that summer was drawing to an end and fall was rapidly approaching — the day was pretty warm. The city bustled around them, pretty much back to its former busyness after the shock of the Breach had temporarily driven people off the streets and into the shelter of their homes. It seemed like Councillor Emerald's insistence that everything was going to be okay had done the trick, or maybe it was the arrival of General Ironwood's reinforcements, or maybe it was just the fact that nothing bad had happened since the Breach that had made people feel safe again.

Either way, it seemed like everyone was out and about today, on the streets, in their cars, coming in and out of the subway stations; street vendors took advantage of the last days of the hot weather to hawk ice creams out of vans or little stalls, along with lemonade, or slushies like the one that Nora was drinking so rapidly despite its size.

With Sunset, Pyrrha, and Jaune all away, Ruby had joined the members of Team YRBN who weren't called Blake for a day out, and the four of them ambled idly down the street, without much purpose or direction — until now, anyway.

"You don't like circuses, Yang?" Nora asked.

"I've got nothing against them," Yang replied. "I just think … they're a bit for kids, you know?"

"Not necessarily," Nora said. "We used to get all adults showing up sometimes, didn't we, Ren?"

"On occasion, yes," Ren agreed.

"'We'?" Ruby asked.

Nora gasped. "Did I never tell you that Ren and I used to work in a circus? Does that mean that I never told you about Ethel either?"

"Who's Ethel?" asked Yang.

"First things first," Nora replied, skipping ahead of the others for a few steps, the strings of the bow at the back of her waist streaming out behind her, then whirling around her body as she turned back to face the rest of them. She started walking backwards, arms spread out on either side of her. "So, this all happened … a couple of years ago, right, Ren?"

"That's about right, yes."

"Ren was determined to get to Beacon Academy," Nora said. "He had his heart set on it, didn't you, Ren?"

"Beacon's reputation is unparalleled," Ren murmured. "I believed that we would receive a far higher standard of education here."

"But to get there, we had to make enough money to afford to get to Vale," Nora declared. "So, we got jobs at the circus! Ren never got any further than the monkey cage," she added, laughter in her voice. "But I loved it there: the bright colours, the sounds, the animals, the costumes. It was awesome!" She twirled on her toe, humming a tune as she did so.

Yang chuckled. "What did you do in the circus?"

"We did everything," Ren said.

"Pretty much, yeah," Nora agreed. "We used to clean out the animal cages, we helped to set up the big top, Ren cooked."

"You weren't performers, then?" Ruby asked, a little disappointedly.

"Oh no, we got to be in the show too," Nora declared. "Why, they said that Ren was the best natural whiteface clown they'd ever seen."

"Mmm," Ren murmured.

Ruby frowned. "Which is the whiteface clown?"

"The one who gets hit in the face with the custard pie," Ren informed her dryly.

Yang blinked. "Were you an actual circus clown?"

"I took some lessons, under duress," Ren said. "I never performed."

"But I threw knives!" Nora said. "I was awesome at it."

"I was the target you practiced on; we never performed that either," said Ren.

"And we helped with the cannon trick."

"We brought down the big top by using too much dust in the cannon," Ren admitted.

"Pssh, anyone could have made that mistake," Nora said. "Besides, it was totally worth it." She sighed. "It was a magical time, but sadly, it wasn't to last forever. After seven weeks of continuous rain and no business, that circus had to fold up; the owner was flat broke. So, to pay everyone in place of the money they were owed, he decided to divide up the show, so that everyone would get something valuable in place of money. He put all the items in a hat, and what each one of us drew, we got." Nora paused. "I got the flea circus. I wonder whatever happened to those fleas."

"I prefer not to think about it," Ren muttered as he started scratching at his chest.

"And Ren," Nora went on, "drew Ethel, the human chimp. She read, wrote, played the piano, and milked a cow. And wore a pretty cute tutu as well."

Yang glanced at Ren, who said nothing.

"I liked her," Nora continued. "I liked her a whole lot. I feel like we got each other, you know? But, Ren had a point that we couldn't exactly take her with us on our journey, and that if we sold her to a zoo or something, we'd have enough money to make it to Vale. Ren planned to put Ethel in a crate he was making himself, but the lion chased us off before he could finish it."

Yang and Ruby both looked at Ren, who still said nothing.

"The night was dark," Nora said. "They usually are, after all."

"Except in summer," Ruby pointed out.

"Right," Nora conceded. "Anyway, there we were, me, Ren, and Ethel, wandering the streets of Mistral together with a lion on the loose. We could have really used a place to stay, so Ren said to me 'let's get a room.' And I said, 'Alright, let's get a room with twin beds.' 'Why twin beds?' asked Ren. 'One for me,' I said. And then Ren said, 'But I can't sleep with the monkey!' And I said, 'Oh, she won't mind.' And then I turned to Ethel and asked, 'You don't mind sleeping with Ren, do you?'"

Yang was staring at Ren by this point, waiting for some correction that didn't come. "Did … did that actually happen?"

Ren sighed. "Yes."

"You really worked in a circus?"

"Correct."

"And you really got a human chimp in place of payment?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

There was a moment of silence.

"Huh," Yang said.

"Did you manage to sell her?" asked Ruby.

"She grabbed a gun and shot her way out!" Nora said.

"We got the gun away from her fairly quickly," Ren corrected.

"How did she manage to get a gun in the first place?" demanded Yang.

"The owner of the boarding house burst in on us with it because he thought Ren was having an affair with his wife!"

Ren sighed. "Unfortunately, that is also true."

Yang blinked rapidly. "Do I want to know how?"

"In a staggeringly unfortunate coincidence, his wife's name was also Ethel," Ren explained.

"Oh," Ruby and Yang said at the same time.

"Yeah, that would explain it," Ruby added. "That was unlucky."

"You two," Yang said, putting her hands on her hips, "have had a weird, wild life."

"You don't know the half of it," Nora said, winking.

Yang shook her head. "Okay," she said. "So we've got axe throwing, escape room, and the robot circus where hopefully we don't get stuck with a flea circus or a robot human chimp. I wonder what that would look like? Anyway, we've got—"

"What about you?" asked Ruby.

Yang looked at her. "What about me?"

"What do you want to do?"

Yang grinned. "I want to make sure that my sister and my friends have the best day, that's what I want to do."

"Come on, Ruby's right," Nora said, as she fell back into line with the rest of them. "If we're all getting to do something we want, it's only fair that you get to do something you want to do as well."

"Well, if you're going to twist my arm about it," Yang said, "we'll go dancing. Probably best to save that for the end of the day, though; anywhere that's open earlier will be dead before nightfall. Which means we still have axe throwing, escape room, and the robot circus. Hmm." Now it was her turn to touch her chin with her fingers, tapping them beneath her lower lip. "Why don't we hit the escape room first, then the circus, then we can throw axes after dinner and find a cool club for a while before crashing back to school? Does that sound like a plan?"

"Fine by me," said Ren.

"Sounds great!" Nora cried.

"Sounds like it's going to be great," Ruby added.

"That's settled then," Yang said. "Lead on to this escape place, Ren. Although, fair warning, you're probably going to have to do most of the problem-solving yourself."

"Is that so?" Ren murmured. "We'll see."

They walked a little further on down the street. As they walked, their footsteps thumping dully against the paving slabs, Ruby began to hear police sirens sounding not too far away.

"Do you guys hear that?" Ruby asked. "Do you think someone might be in trouble?"

"If they are, it'll be because they deserve it," Yang replied.

"You know what I mean," Ruby said as their steps carried them before the mouth of an alleyway adjoining their street. "We should check it out; maybe we can help."

"Sure," Yang agreed, "if we can work out where it's—"

Sun burst out of the mouth of the alleyway, almost colliding with Yang, who stepped nimbly aside to let him, stumbling to a stop, trip over his own feet and fall flat on his face.

"Sun?" Ruby asked.

Neptune followed Sun out of the alley. "Hey, guys," he said, waving his hand. "What's shaking?"

"Do you know anything about those police sirens?" Ruby asked.

Sun groaned wordlessly as he picked himself up off the ground.

Neptune laughed nervously. "They, uh, you see, it's a funny story—"

"No, it isn't," Sun growled.

"No, you're right, it isn't," Neptune admitted. "They're after us."

"They're after you?" Ruby gasped.

"We didn't do it, I swear!" Neptune protested.

"Didn't do what?" Yang demanded.

"We didn't do anything!" Sun cried. "We just … never mind, we gotta go, come on man!"

He took off, with Neptune following after him, darting across the road, weaving between the traffic and dashing into another alley on the other side of the street.

Ruby and the members of Team YRBN watched them go.

"Huh," Yang said. "I wonder what happened there?"

"Do you think they really didn't do it?" Nora asked.

"You don't think they're guilty of anything, do you?" Ruby asked.

"We don't know either of them like you do," Ren pointed out.

"I don't know them very well," Ruby murmured, "but I'm sure they wouldn't do anything to get the police called on them."

"The police do frequently get called to arrest people for … specious reasons," Ren allowed.

"Well, if we want to find out what's really going on, there's one way to find out," Yang said. "Hey, boys, wait up a second!"

She started to run across the road, waving to the traffic which slowed or halted to let her pass.

"Thank you!"

Nora looked at Ren. "I guess the escape room is going to have to wait a little bit," she said.

Ren sighed, but when Nora began to follow Yang, he followed her without any hesitation.

Ruby went too, of course, and the four of them caught up with Sun and Neptune not too far away, having followed them through a tangle of back-alleys and narrow streets between the buildings, even as the sounds of the police sirens faded into the distance behind them.

The boys paused, halfway up a fire escape leading onto the roof of a building — Ruby couldn't tell what it was, since they were behind it — with a water tower up on that roof. On said roof, the sun was shining, but Sun and Neptune paused only halfway up the metal ladder, Sun half draped across the safety rail while Neptune sat down upon the slightly rusting metal step.

Sun glanced at them. "You didn't have to follow us," he pointed out.

Yang grinned. "We were curious," she said. "It would have been bugging me all day to know why the cops were after you. Especially for something you didn't do."

"We didn't do it," Neptune insisted.

"Then why were they after you?" Ruby asked.

"You were probably in the wrong place, weren't you?" Nora guessed. "Somebody didn't like the look of you in a nice neighbourhood."

Neptune looked at her. "What makes you say that?"

Nora folded her arms. "You think it's only faunus that happens to?"

"It wasn't that," Sun murmured. "Or … maybe it was that, kind of, but…" He sighed.

Yang stepped forward, stepping around — half over, really — Neptune to climb the steps, which rattled beneath her booted tread, until she was standing beside Sun, just lower than him upon the fire escape.

She reached out and put a fingerless-gloved hand upon his shoulder. "Hey," she murmured. "I know that you don't have to talk about it, but … it might help if you did?"

Sun glanced at her, and then glanced away.

Yang nodded. "Well, it seems like you lost them, so maybe—"

"He told me to go back where I came from," Sun murmured.

Ruby blinked. "Who?"

"We don't know," Neptune said. "Some guy. We were minding our own business, and suddenly—"

"Suddenly, this guy shoves a thousand lien into my hand and tells me to go back to where I came from," Sun said softly. "And I told him thanks, but you know it's only ten lien for the airship back to Beacon, right?"

Yang chuckled. "What did he say to that?"

"He yelled that I was a thief and I'd stolen his money," Sun said.

"We tried to give it back to him, but he just kept yelling," Neptune added. "And then someone called the cops. You know the rest."

"That's awful!" Ruby said. "I can't believe people would do something like that."

"Can't you?" Ren asked. "I can."

Sun looked at them. "Did you … but you're not—"

"No," Ren agreed. "We're not. But we've been outsiders before. The fact that we weren't faunus didn't help us very much."

Sun scowled and tapped the railing with both hands. "It's never happened to me before," he said.

"Being offered money, or chased by the cops?" Ruby asked.

"It's not his first time being chased by the cops," Yang said.

Sun laughed. "They were sailors, not cops, remember?"

Yang nodded. "Yeah, that's right; they were sailors off the boat."

"It's not either of those, anyway," Sun went on. "I mean, it is my first time being offered money, but … it's also my first time … dealing with … that, you know."

"Really?" Ruby gasped, then covered her mouth as she realised how that sounded. "I just … I just meant, in Mistral—"

"He wasn't actually in Mistral for very long, remember?" Neptune said. "He hopped on a boat to come here."

"So, in Vacuo, it isn't that bad?" Yang asked.

"In Vacuo, the strong survive," Sun declared. "If you're strong enough to live, then you're allowed to live, if not … it doesn't matter whether you're a human or a faunus."

"Kind of rough on the people who aren't strong enough to survive," Nora murmured.

"They get treated the same all over; it's just in Vacuo, nobody pretends to care," Sun said, his tongue sharpening. His brow furrowed. "Sorry, I … I just…"

"It got to you," Yang murmured.

"People have treated me differently because I'm a faunus before," Sun admitted. "But never … that. That's a whole new—"

"Brazen level of jackassery?" Yang suggested.

Sun looked at her and managed to smile. "Yeah," he said, "something like that."

"I thought Vale was supposed to be tolerant," Nora said.

"It is!" insisted Ruby.

"Apparently, not for everyone," Nora pointed out, gesturing towards Sun.

"That was just…" Ruby trailed off for a moment. "I mean, it was awful, but it was just one guy—"

"And the cops that they called on us," Neptune pointed out.

"They didn't know what was really going on," Ruby replied. "They just got a call about a thief."

"That's true, I suppose," Neptune admitted. "Didn't make it nicer having to run away from them."

"No," Ruby murmured. "No, I guess not." Her voice rose. "But my point is … my point is that stuff like that, well, it just doesn't happen here, not in Vale."

"It did," Neptune said bluntly.

"But Ruby's right, what you just said is kind of, well, it's a little much, isn't it?" Nora pointed out. "The people who tried to run me and Ren out of places never gave us any money to get rid of us. You wouldn't believe it in Mistral or Atlas, let alone in Vale."

"I get what you mean," Sun assured them. "Lots of folks here in Vale have been nice and friendly, just like its reputation." He grinned. "Perhaps we just ran into the one guy in Vale who really hates faunus? The one guy stupid enough to believe that we all moved here from Menagerie?"

"Yeah," Yang agreed, a mixture of lightness and uncertainty in her voice. "Yeah, I'm sure that's it." She paused for a moment. "So … are you okay?"

"Uh huh," Sun said, as he turned to face her. "I'm fine. I'm always fine."

"Really?" Yang asked. "'Cause you know, it's okay to admit when you're not."

"Why?" Sun asked her in turn. "Why do you care?"

Yang smiled. "'Cause sunshine is in my name," she said, with a brightness in her voice that verged on excessive. "And … because Blake isn't here right now, so if you want to lean on someone … you can lean on me, if you want to."

Sun chuckled. "Blake … isn't the kind of person you lean on."

"No," Yang agreed. "No, I guess not."

"But thanks anyway," Sun told her. "I'll keep it in mind … but right now, I really am fine."

"I'm fine too, if anyone cares," Neptune added. "Unless being not fine is going to get me a hug from a hot girl, in which case, I am so totally not fine. I am so far from fine that I could walk five hundred miles, and fine would still be way over … I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"A little bit, yeah," Nora said.

"First of all, you're not the one who just became a victim of racism," Yang said. "And second of all, aren't you dating that Atlesian girl, what's her name—?"

"Twilight Sparkle," Ruby said.

"It's just a hug," Neptune said.

"It's not happening," replied Nora.

"So, anyway," Yang said, "what are you guys up to? Or were you up to? What are you up to?"

"Not much," Sun said. "We were just going to see what happened."

"We sure saw what happened," Neptune added.

Yang glanced at Ruby and her teammates. "Well, if you want," she said, "you can always come along with us."

"Where?" Neptune asked.

"An escape room, a robot circus, axe throwing, and a hot dance club," Yang declared.

"That sounds like a full day," Neptune declared.

"It's not completely full if there's anything you want to do as well," Yang replied. "Book your slots before they fill up."

"What's a robot circus?" asked Sun.

"It's like a regular circus, but with robots," answered Yang.

"Okay," Sun said, "next question, what's a circus?"

Silence greeted this question.

"You don't know what a circus is?" Ruby asked.

"We never had them in Vacuo," Sun told her.

"Okay, you have to come with us!" Ruby cried. "This is going to be great. You'll get to experience all the fun of a regular circus and a whole bunch of cool robots!"

Sun looked at Neptune. "What do you think, man?"

"Yeah, sure," Neptune replied, getting to his feet. "I mean, why not, right? It's not like we had anything cooler lined up."

"Next stop: the robot circus!" Nora declared, pointing her hand into the air.

"Ahem," Ren said.

"Next stop: the escape room," Yang corrected. "Don't worry, Ren, I hadn't forgotten."

"What's an escape room?"

"Did you have any entertainment in Vacuo at all?" Yang demanded.

"It's a room you get locked into, and then you have to escape," Neptune explained.

"Huh? That's easy; I'll just break down the door," Sun said.

"That's not the point," Ren said calmly. "The point is to escape through solving puzzles and displaying mental agility."

"Mental agility, huh?" Sun repeated. "Is that why we've never been to one of these things before?"

"No, we've never been to one of these because if we did, Scarlet would try and leave you locked in," Neptune explained.

Neptune, Yang, and Sun trooped down the stairs of the fire escape, making the metal shake and rattle as they came to join the others. As she led them all out of the side alley, Yang got out her scroll, bringing up a map of all their destinations — all save the club, because she hadn't chosen it yet — that they were going to visit throughout the day.

"Seriously, guys," she said to Sun and Neptune, "if there's anything that you want to do, just let me know, and we'll find some way to fit it in. Anything at all. Almost anything."

"We'll give it some thought," Neptune assured her.

"You know," Nora said, "Ren and I used to work in a circus."

"Really?" Neptune asked.

"I still have no idea what that is," said Sun.

"That'll make the story even better," Nora assured him. "Now, this all happened a couple of years ago—"

She repeated the story as they walked down the street, and this time, Nora and Ren's time in the circus seemed to gain a lot of embellishment that hadn't been there when she had told the story to Yang and Ruby; while the stuff about the chimp, once Ren had finally come into possession of it, was pretty much unchanged — and still true, apparently — in this second telling, Nora had become the circus strongman and the person who used to catch the cannonball during the cannon trick.

"I've no doubt that you could have been a strongman," Ren said. "Or a strongwoman. But you weren't."

"I would have been awesome, though," Nora insisted. "You know I would have rocked that leotard."

Ren said nothing, but a faint blush rose to his cheeks.

As they walked down the street, they passed a boarded up property, the shop or whatever that had been there having shut up and closed down and nobody else having shown up to take over the lease. Wooden chipboard had been nailed over the windows and the doors, and upon one of those wooden boards, someone had spray painted the words 'Atlas Is the Enemy!' in bright red letters.

Ruby couldn't help but stop and stare at it.

Yang, noticing that Ruby had stopped, stopped too. "Ruby, what's— huh?"

Everyone stopped, coming to a shuffling, ragged halt to look at the spray painted message.

"'Atlas is the enemy'?" Sun repeated. "What does that even mean?"

"It means that-"

"I know what it means, man," Sun said to Neptune before he could finish explaining. "My point is, why would anyone say something so stupid."

"Why would anyone give you a thousand lien to go back where you came from?" Neptune asked.

Sun blinked. "You think people in Vale are just feeling mean and dumb today?"

Neptune shrugged. "It's as good an explanation as any, right?"

"To add to the one person in Vale who hates the faunus, we now add the one who hates Atlas," Ren murmured.

Unfortunately, as they walked down the streets of Vale towards the escape room, it became clear to all of them that it was not just one guy.

Because it wasn't just one piece of graffiti that was attacking Atlas. It wasn't, like, everywhere everywhere, like you could go a couple of blocks without seeing any sign of it, but once you knew that it was there and you knew to look for it, you could see it. It wasn't always so obvious as on the front of an abandoned store on a busy street; sometimes, it was kind of hidden away in side streets, but never so hidden that you couldn't see them from the main road. Some of it was just crude messages attacking Atlas and declaring that they were the enemy, that they were invaders, that they had to be stopped; some of it was pretty sophisticated, like this one picture they saw that would have been a really piece of street art if it had shown anything other than Atlesian warships hovering menacingly overhead — and the difference between the real Atlesian cruisers in the skies above them and the ones in the picture was that in the picture, you could see all their missiles, and they were all pointing downwards.

"But…" Ruby said. "Why? Would people draw this? Why would people think like this? Sunset said that Vale would have been lost without General Ironwood and his forces, is she right?"

"No one can know what would have happened," Ren said. "But, if Sunset is right, that may be the problem."

Ruby looked at him. "What do you mean, if they saved Vale—?"

"People dislike being saved," Ren explained.

Except that didn't explain much of anything. "Do they?" asked Ruby in a small and trembling voice.

"Does that surprise you?" Ren asked. "That Vale needed Atlas to rescue them shows that, as Sun and the Vacuans might say, Vale was not strong enough to survive."

Sun's muscular chest rose and fell as he sighed. "I gotta say, he's right about that," he admitted. "I mean, if it had been a Vacuan fleet in the sky, they would have cut and run as soon as the Breach happened."

"They would have just left?" Yang demanded. "Why, because Vale should be strong enough to survive on its own?"

"No, because Vacuans don't stand and fight," Sun explained. "All of that hold your ground, round the flag, last man stuff? We don't buy into any of that. We stick around somewhere as long as we can, and then, when it gets too hot, we move on."

"Nice to know we can depend on you if we get into trouble," Nora muttered.

"Hey, I was there at the Breach too, remember; just because it's what people back home would do doesn't mean that it's what I would do," Sun replied hotly, his voice raising. "I'm just saying … I forget what I was saying."

"The point is that people dislike being saved," Ren said. "They dislike owing others their lives, and that dislike can turn into resentment."

"I'll take your word for that," Yang said, scratching the back of her head with one hand. "Even so, this seems a little bit extreme, don't you think?"

"Apparently not for some people," Neptune pointed out.

They continued to see more examples of anti-Atlas sentiment as they went on their way, until eventually, they reached the escape room, where hostility to Atlas and racism towards faunus were temporarily forgotten as they worked together to escape from a doomed starship minutes before the escape pods jettisoned automatically. As Yang had predicted, Ren did the most work of anyone on the team to comprehend the various puzzles that hid the keys and codes they needed to progress, but Yang got some of the wordplay almost instantly, and Ruby turned out to know more about the arrangements of the stars and constellations than anyone else in the room with them.

Sun and Neptune were not, it had to be said, much help.

"Sorry for being such deadweight in there, guys," Sun apologised as they trooped out of the building and back out onto the street.

"Don't worry about it; we escaped, so it's all good," Yang assured them.

"I didn't do much either, but not everyone can be great at everything," Nora added. "Some people are really smart, like Ren. And some people hit really hard, like me."

"That's not all that you do, Nora," Ren remarked plaintively.

"That's right," Nora agreed. "I eat a lot too."

"Nora," Ren said reproachfully.

"What?"

"You shouldn't—"

Ren was interrupted by the sound of Nora's stomach growling.

"You see?" Nora asked, beaming.

"Nora," Ren began again.

"What?" Nora asked once more.

"Don't put yourself down like that," Ren said. "It isn't necessary."

"But some food is definitely necessary right now."

"We can get something to eat at the circus," Ruby suggested.

"The food at the circus is way overpriced and not all that nice," Yang said. "We'd be better off picking up something to eat on the way there."

"I'm pretty sure I saw a hotdog stand on the way over here," Nora said. "A couple of streets back."

They retraced their steps, heading a couple of streets back past the stores all open for business. While the anti-Atlas graffiti was an unwelcome presence on the streets of Vale, in the shop windows, there was some reminder that things weren't all bad in the city: every shop seemed to be getting its Vytal Festival promotions started, even though the festival wasn't actually due to start for a little while longer.

The electronics store was advertising new TVs for twenty-five percent off and the possibility of a payment plan, reminding everyone who passed by that the only way to watch the tournament was on an SDC Illuminatus Seven with a holographic display thirty-six inches wide and surround sound speakers; maybe they'd could forgotten that you could just go watch the matches in the Amity Arena? Still, they were running a cool commercial for the tournament on the televisions in the shop window; even if it was just clips from the last tournament, they were still pretty awesome clips.

"In a couple of years," Yang said, "we'll be the ones on the commercial."

"Some of us will," Ruby replied. "It's kind of funny, don't you think? The ones who fight in this tournament will be remembered for it, even though it doesn't really matter at all; they, or we, will be remembered for that and not for any of the stuff we did that actually mattered."

"Maybe that's why there's a tournament in the first place," Yang suggested. "So that we get the immortality that we deserve, even if we don't get it for what we deserve it for."

"If we make the cut," Neptune said.

Yang laughed. "Nervous?"

"With only eight teams per school selected to represent their academy in the tournament, the odds are against any team individually," Ren pointed out.

"Yeah, but come on, we all know that we're going to get picked," Yang declared. "Ruby, you're not worried about the selection, are you?"

"Sunset says we're bound to get picked, if only because of Pyrrha," Ruby said.

Neptune snorted. "Sunset's not wrong about that; if Pyrrha didn't get to fight in the Vytal Festival … the whole of Mistral would kick off. But … don't you guys have to win the preliminary rounds to make sure you get chosen?"

"'Preliminary rounds'?" Nora said. "There are preliminary rounds?"

"Not here at Beacon, unless you count Last Shot," Yang said. "Here, Professor Ozpin picks the eight teams."

"Really?" Neptune said. "He just gets to choose, just like that, no arguments?"

"Why not?" asked Yang. "He is the headmaster, after all."

"Doesn't Professor Lionheart choose who represents Haven?" inquired Ruby.

"We choose who represents Haven," Sun declared, jabbing at his own chest with his thumb.

"There's a preliminary tournament," Neptune explained. "The top eight teams get the eight slots in the real thing."

"So does that mean you already know who's going forward?" asked Nora.

"No, we haven't had the prelims yet," Sun said. "I think they want to hold them pretty close to the announcement so that it doesn't leak out."

They passed a betting shop; Ruby found it a little depressing how full it was, one of the busiest shops they had passed in the whole city. It wasn't much changed from any other day, still full of stinky people with unwashed faces and dirty coats sitting down in front of the betting machines, playing game after game, but in the windows, they also had — over a big poster of second-year student Coco Adel, winking over the top of her sunglasses — the odds for the winner of the Vytal Festival.

"Have they just put up every team?" Nora asked, as they stared at the row after row of team names, far more than sixty-four of them.

"So it would appear," Ren murmured.

"What else were they going to do, the tournament roster hasn't been announced yet?" Neptune reminded them.

"They could have waited until it was announced," Yang pointed out.

Even the bookstore was getting in on the act, with an unauthorised biography of Arslan Altan, entitled Maneater: The Untold Story of a Lioness; the picture on the cover showed her scowling outwards at the reader in a surly manner, her hands knotted into fists, as though she was about to punch somebody.

By retracing their steps back from the escape room, they eventually found their way to the hotdog stand that Nora had spotted earlier. As they drew near, they found that they had been beaten to it by Blake's friends, Starlight and Trixie, who were standing in front of it together with the boy on their team, the one with the cape and the goatee whose name Ruby couldn't remember.

As Ruby and the others drew near, the voices of the Atlesian huntsmen carried towards them.

"No?" Trixie said loudly. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"What do you think I mean?" the guy on the other side of the hotdog stand demanded. He was a tall man, with dark stubble on his chin even as his hair was concealed beneath his white cap. "I ain't serving the likes of you, now beat it."

"Maybe we should go somewhere—" the boy began.

"The likes of us?" Trixie demanded, her voice rising to a loud squawk. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"

"I know that you're Atlesians," the hotdog vendor said. "I don't want your kind around here, I don't need your kind around here, none of us need your kind around here. Get outta here! Go back to Atlas and freeze to death!"

"What do you have against Atlas?" Starlight asked. "We're only—"

"Only here to take over," the hotdog vendor said. "Only here to do what you couldn't do in the war."

"We're here for your freedom," Starlight declared.

"You're here to make us all your slaves; well, it won't happen!" cried the hotdog vendor. "We beat you once, we'll do it again, and in the meantime, I'm not taking any of your filthy money. Now clear off, or I'm calling the cops."

"You ungrateful—"

"Trixie, cool it," the boy begged, tugging at her shoulder. "Let's just go; we'll find somewhere else, okay?"

"Fighting Atlas?" Nora murmured, as they watched. "Like … like in the Great War?"

"It's ridiculous," Ren said.

"It's insane," Neptune declared.

"Something is definitely going on in this city," Yang said, as she put one hand upon her hip. "Like … so many people having a really bad day, like something in the water." She shook her head. "Something is going on here."

"I guess so," Ruby replied. "But … what?"

XxXxX​

Sonata finished singing, a smile spreading across her face as she took in the anger and the hostility spreading all around her, everyone arguing, everyone quarrelling, everyone glaring up at the Atlesian warships hovering above them.

What will you do, General, when those you came to protect decide that you are the enemy?

Tempest smiled too. Everything was proceeding according to Doctor Watts' plan.

"Another wonderful performance, as always," she said, taking off her headphones and surveying the results of Sonata's voice. Hostility was spreading across Vale like water spreading across the floodplain once the river burst its banks, all the resentment and the envy that the people of this kingdom had hidden away in their secret hearts amplified and made strong enough to burst forth into the open. Hostility towards Atlas, dislike for the faunus, the cracks were starting to spread across the city. And it only got worse with every song.

And with every song, the gem around Sonata's neck seemed to glow a little brighter, and the next song ensnared more people under its spell.

"Aww, you're sweet, but I know you're just saying that," Sonata said. "You couldn't even hear a word I was singing!"

Tempest hesitated. It was true that she couldn't hear Sonata's siren song, but … but she wanted to. She wanted to tear off her headphones, she wanted to never put them on, she wanted to hear what it was that affected the minds and hearts and souls of everyone who heard it.

But she was possessed of an iron will, and though that will was starting to rust a little with desire to hear the siren's voice, she would not yield. Doctor Watts' instructions had been explicit, and she would not break faith with him who had been so good to her.

"A pleasure that will have to wait for some time," she said, "perhaps forever. In the meantime, although you have done good work here, I think that it is time to move on to phase two of this operation."

"Ooh, phase two, that sounds exciting!" Sonata declared. "What is it?"

"How would you like to give a concert for the troops?" asked Tempest.

XxXxX​

"Well, that was fun," Yang said as the four of them walked down the corridor towards their respective dorm rooms. Sun and Neptune had peeled off to their own room on a different part of the campus; it was just the four of them again.

"Those Starhead robots are pretty cool," Ruby declared.

"Much cooler than the Atlesian androids," Nora added.

"But the Atlesian androids are supposed to fight, not be entertaining," Yang pointed out.

"But that doesn't make them cool," Nora said.

Yang chuckled. "No," she admitted. "No, I guess not." She paused for a second. "Has everyone had a good day?"

"It was great," Nora said. "We should do it again sometime."

"Ruby?" Yang asked, looking at her sister.

Ruby did not respond. She was staring down the corridor with a frown wrinkling her brow.

"Ruby?" Yang repeated.

"There's a light on in the dorm room," Ruby pointed out.

Yang looked. The corridor was dark and quiet, but the darkness meant that, yes, you could see the light on in the SAPR dorm room, spilling out from the crack in the doorway.

"Did you leave the light on?" Ren asked.

Ruby shook her head. "No. No, I didn't."

There was a moment's pause.

"Maybe Sunset, Jaune, and Pyrrha got home early?" Nora suggested.

"Yeah, maybe," Yang said quietly. "I guess the only thing to do is check it out."

"Is that wise?" asked Ren.

Yang glanced at him. She understood what he was asking, why he was asking it, but at the same time, she scoffed, as much for her own sake as for his. "Come on, Ren? It's probably … okay, I don't know what it is, but whatever it is, it'll be perfectly harmless because … because this is Beacon. It's not like we're going to open the door and find a grimm on the other side."

Nora gave a very deep chuckle and stroked her chin as she spoke in deep-voiced imitation of Professor Port. "Oho, Miss Xiao Long! Why, don't you know that when I was a lad, I left a beowolf in the dorm room of a rival team as a jolly jape! How we laughed!"

Yang snorted. "Come on," she said, "let's see who it is."

They walked to the door, Ruby and Yang in front, Nora and Ren just a little bit behind. Ruby got out her scroll and opened up the door. Yang took a step in front of Ruby so that she entered first, but Ruby followed swiftly on behind, so that they as good as walked in together.

Walked in to see—

"Raven?" Yang gasped.

Raven Branwen was sitting on Pyrrha's bed, her legs crossed, her boots crinkling the blanket, reading Ruby's copy of The Song of Olivia with one hand, eating a cheese sandwich with the other.

She looked up from her book.

"Ah, there you are," she said. "I was starting to get bored."