SAPR: Interlude 2 - Vale

[ScipioSmith]

Raven Returns​

Four heroes stood in the gloomy throne room. Outside, it was perpetual night, casting the rocky chamber in a mire of darkness banished only by the candles burning in the sconces on the walls.

The chamber was bare, empty, as though it had been stripped clean in advance of their coming.

But that would have required someone to know that they were coming, and that was not a prospect that Raven wished to entertain.

Yet now that she had called it into being with a thought, she found she could not banish it.

Team STRQ stood at one end of the long room, and if they had weapons, then their weapons were ready: Omen and Harbinger were drawn in the hands of Raven and Qrow, Summer gripped Vargcrist tightly in both hands, Tai had his fists drawn back to strike. Because, at the other end of the room, standing before a simple wooden chair, was their enemy: the enemy, Salem herself. She was uglier than Raven had expected; for an adversary who could not be killed, she looked an awful lot like a corpse already.

She looked more like something Raven would expect to see floating on the surface of a lake a few days after her drowning than someone — or something — who threatened the existence of the world itself, and the lives of Raven's friends what was more.

She looked … she looked neither worried nor surprised to see them.

"So," Salem said, her tone casual, almost idle. "Ozpin has finally decided to strike at me. And he has chosen the four of you to do it." She smiled, a rather ugly smile. "You must be quite the talents."

"We made it this far, didn't we?" Qrow said.

Salem laughed, a bitter sound that grated upon Raven's ears. "And yet you never stopped to ask yourselves if it wasn't perhaps a little too easy to reach this place, the very heart of my sanctum? A handful of beowolves, a single beringel outside the door? Did you think that was all the strength at my command? And here I thought Ozpin looked for brains as well as brawn in his servants."

Raven scowled. It had been easy getting in here, but no one had wanted to say that it had felt too easy because they had all wanted it to be that easy; they had all wanted this to be done quickly and simply so that they could get out of this place as quickly as possible.

She found to her frustration that her hands were trembling. She gritted her teeth and growled, "What are you saying?"

Salem's smile had been ugly before, but it became uglier still the more pronounced her smugness became. "I'm saying that if you had been devoured on your way up here, we wouldn't be able to have this little chat, would we?"

She snapped her fingers once, and immediately, a great howl of grimm arose from beyond the chamber: the beowolves and the ursai roared, the beringels howled as they beat their chest, the nevermores shrieked, and the manticores bellowed.

It wasn't just a small number of grimm out there; it was a horde, a great host that had lain in weight for them, and Team STRQ had walked right into the trap.

Raven cursed mentally, damning Oz for putting them up to this, for putting the idea into Summer's head. He had encouraged them to stick their heads in a beowolf's mouth, and now, the jaws were closing.

Of the four of them, only Summer did not look afraid. Summer never seemed afraid. Her face could be kind, or it could be courageous, or it could even be angry sometimes, but Raven had never seen her afraid.

Summer took a step forward ahead of the others. "You may have an army of grimm outside, but they're out there, and we're in here … with you."

Salem looked no more fazed by that realisation than Summer seemed afraid of Salem's grimm beyond. "You are very brave to come here. You are all so very brave. How does Ozpin acquire the loyalty of such as you? Not with the truth, surely. What has he told you about me? What has he told you about himself?"

"Enough," Summer said.

"Enough that you are willing to be his sacrifices?" Salem said. "Enough that you came here to fail and fall at his behest? And while with child too, Raven. You must be a true believer or very callous to risk the life inside you thus."

Raven gasped. How had she known that? How could Salem possibly know that? Raven had only found out a few days ago, she'd only told Tai yesterday — she had been planning to keep it a secret until after the mission because she knew that Tai and Qrow would make a fuss about her staying behind, which they had, but Summer had worked out that Raven was pregnant from the signs and insisted that telling the father was the right thing to do, and it was hard to say no to Summer Rose when she was lecturing you on right and wrong.

"I know many things," Salem replied. "For I was blessed with the power of knowledge ere magic faded from the world." She smirked. "I know you, Raven of the Branwen tribe; I see into your very heart. Deep down, you know exactly how this story ends."

"No," Raven whispered, shaking her head.

"In this world, only the strong survive, and your comrades are too weak to stand the storm."

"Raven, don't listen to her," Summer said. "Together we can—"

"Die one and all and merrily together? Yes, you can," Salem said. "Or at least you could. But even now, there is still time. Time to turn away. Time to walk away. Time to leave these fools to their fate."

Raven's breathing came in short, sharp bursts. It was true: in this world, only the strong survived, and only those who were willing to do whatever it took in defiance of all law and morality would prosper; that was the way of the world that Raven and Qrow had learnt upon the knee of their father, the chieftain of their tribe. In this world, only the strong survived, and the ruthless thrived, and Raven had marked Summer and Taiyang as weak from the moment she met them.

But then, as the days and months at Beacon had drawn on, Raven had begun to wonder if their father had been mistaken, if there were not other kinds of strength than a willingness to do anything to anyone to get ahead, strength like Summer had, a strength that came from loyalty and kindness and a heart full of courage.

A strength that came from standing together with those who believed you could be better than you were before.

Two roads. Two worlds and she between them both, walking between the candle and the dark, wielding shadow on behalf of light. That was her life, that was her role upon this team: Summer was their leader, but Raven was their protector. Raven, ruthless Raven, keen-eyed and clear-sighted Raven, strong Raven, Raven unburdened by Summer's naivete or Tai's civilised scruples could do what had to be done for the good of the team. Raven could be their strength where they were weak, just as they could be hers.

So she had lived, through Beacon and beyond, but now…

But now…

Raven felt, had felt for some time now, as if she were stood at a fork in the road where she would have to choose which path to take: the path of the Branwen tribe, the path of strength, the path where the strong survived and the weak left to perish; or she could take the path of Summer's friendship and Tai's love, of four hearts that beat as one, of comrades working together to overcome their weaknesses. Two paths she could not walk together, two worlds she could not straddle forever, and now Salem told her—

"Raven, snap out of it!"

Summer's words cut through the fog of Raven's self-doubt like a searchlight. Her voice was like a bugle rallying men to arms, drowning out the noises of the grimm without.

"That's enough," Summer declared. "You may think you know us, but you don't. You may say that you let us get this far, but I say we came this far together, because we're a team, a team that's already done incredible things, things that people said couldn't be done, but we did it anyway because we worked together. You may think that you know us, but you have no idea how strong our bond is. It's the ties that bind us that have got us this far, and it's those ties that will defeat you!" Summer began to roar as the brilliant silver light began to shine forth from her eyes, first in shining silver wings and then, as Summer's cry became louder still, loaded with that mixture of anger and pain that made witnessing her power both an awe-inspiring and a horrifying experience, the shining light engulfed the entire room, blinding Raven and her teammates.

It was the light that no evil could withstand. The light at the heart of Oz's plan. Although they might not be able to kill Salem, it was hoped that Summer's eyes could still trap her in stone for a few hundred years at least.

XxXxX​

Yang stared. Raven was sitting in Ruby's room. Raven was reading Ruby's book. Raven was … Raven was right there.

She had no idea what colour her eyes were right now. She had no idea how she felt right now.

This was not the first time that Raven had appeared to them like this, but somehow … somehow, the fact that she was not just on the school grounds but in Ruby's room, it … it felt different. Worse, maybe, but maybe … maybe not.

After all, this was…

Yang didn't know how she felt. She wanted this, and yet at the same time, something drove her to take a step forward, protectively shielding Ruby with her body.

Raven's eyebrows rose. "There's no need for that," she said in a tone of gentle reproach. She got up off the bed, putting the book down upon the red blanket. "Do you really think so ill of me that you believe that I would hurt Ruby? Summer's girl? Your sister?"

"I don't know you," Yang said. "Remember?"

A look that was almost guilty — perhaps it was guilty; Yang didn't know Raven well enough to read her face — fell over Raven.

"No," she murmured. "I suppose you don't. I acknowledge that that is my fault, but nevertheless … have I given you cause in our interactions to make you think that I would do Ruby harm?"

"No," Ruby said, stepping around Yang. "No, you haven't. But … what are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you," Raven said. "Since I didn't know how long Sunset would be out of town with the dolt and the little princess, I thought that I should take this chance for us to talk. Eventually, I got so bored of waiting that I decided to make myself a little supper." She put the sandwich down upon the little desk that ran along the wall of the dorm room. "The cheese had a note on it saying it belonged to someone called 'Bon Bon'; I've never been very good at paying attention to notes like that."

"Yang," Nora said. "Who is this, do you know her?"

For the first time, Raven appeared to notice Ren and Nora's presence behind Yang and Ruby. She cast her red eyes over them dismissively. "Close the door on your way out."

"Excuse me?" replied Ren sharply.

Raven turned to face them. "This is a private conversation between myself, my … between myself and Summer's children. Your presence is neither required nor wanted."

Nora growled. "Well, what if we don't want to leave them alone with you?"

Raven was a tall woman. Taller than Yang, taller than Pyrrha, she towered over Nora. She began to step lightly across the room, one hand straying idly towards the hilt of her sword.

"It's okay," Yang said quickly. "Nora, Ren … give us a minute, okay?"

"What?" Nora exclaimed. "But Yang—"

"The answer to your question is that I do know her," Yang said quickly, if also quietly. "She is … she's my mother. We're going to be okay alone, I promise."

"I … I don't like this," Nora said.

I'm not sure that I like it either, but it's for the best, Yang thought. As much as she was unsure how she felt about Raven's dramatic appearance, she wasn't afraid of physical harm from her.

On the other hand, she couldn't say what Raven might do to Ren or Nora if they forced the issue.

"If you're sure about this," Ren murmured.

"Ren!" Nora cried.

"It's Yang's mother," Ren reminded her. "If Yang and Ruby are comfortable with this, then … then we should do as she says."

Ren ushered Nora out of the room. On Ren's own face, there was a frown, somewhere between hostility and confusion; it was still on his face as he cast one last look at Yang before he closed the door.

He closed the door and left them alone with Raven.

"There was no need to be like that," Yang said.

"What I have to say is for you, not them," Raven said, turning away from Yang and Ruby. She walked back towards Pyrrha's bed and, with one hand, reached out to brush her fingertips against the cover of The Song of Olivia. "Whose book is this?"

"It's mine," Ruby said, her voice trembling a little.

Raven looked at her. "Yours? How did Tai come by an antique like this?"

"It was given to me," Ruby replied. "By a friend."

"A generous friend," Raven murmured. "You know that this is very valuable? Copies of this vintage are rare indeed; they can sell for—"

"It's not for sale," Ruby said firmly.

The corner of Raven's lip turned upwards. "I assumed that it must belong to your Mistralian princess friend—"

"Her name is Pyrrha," Ruby declared.

Raven gave a nod, or perhaps a bow of her head; it was hard to tell. "Pyrrha, then. Either way, her family has the history and the money that I could believe they had something like this."

"And if it had been Pyrrha's?" asked Yang.

"Then I would have taken it and sold it for a fine price," Raven said bluntly. "But, as it is yours, Ruby…" — she pushed it across the duvet — "it's safe. What do you think of it?"

"It's … it's a lovely story," Ruby said. "I think it's beautiful."

"Even the part where Olivia gets herself and her followers killed out of pride?" Raven asked.

"The hero doesn't have to be perfect for the story to be a good one," Ruby pointed out.

"No," Raven conceded. "No, I suppose she doesn't. One might even argue that if the hero were perfect, it would be a rather boring story."

"Please tell me you didn't come here to talk about stories," Yang growled.

"No, I came here because I'm very disappointed in the both of you," Raven declared. "I'm here because despite my warnings and my instructions, you have been lazy and complacent and, in your case, Ruby, deceitful. And so I am forced to come here and tell Yang the truth—"

"I know the truth," Yang said.

"No, you don't," Raven said emphatically. "You have no idea—"

"Salem," Yang said. "Immortal, unkillable, mistress of the grimm. Relics. Gods. Am I missing anything?"

Raven was silent as her eyebrows rose. Her smile was slight, but at the same time unmistakable.

"How…?" Ruby murmured. "How do you know that?"

"Not because you told me," Yang said, unable to prevent just a touch of bitterness from entering her voice.

Ruby cringed, clasping her hands together. "I … I was going to," she offered, weakly. "Professor Ozpin … he made me promise not to tell."

"Typical Oz," Raven growled. "I'm disappointed in you, Ruby. Summer would be disappointed in you, lying and keeping secrets from your sister like this."

"Don't talk to Ruby like that and don't talk about what Mom would have thought about all this!" Yang snapped. "I can be mad at Ruby; you don't get to be mad, and you don't get to take the moral high ground when you left!"

She could feel the flames of wrath begin to burn, her hair igniting; she could imagine it turning pale, even as her eyes turned red.

Raven raised one hand. "You … are right, of course. I have no right to chide or lecture. I apologise, and henceforth will keep my … judgement to myself. I did not come here to fight, after all."

"How … Yang, how did you find out, about Salem and everything else?" asked Ruby.

Yang closed her eyes. "Sunset told me," she said. "In the hospital, after you woke up and we had that fight."

"Sunset," Ruby murmured. "She … she didn't tell me that. Neither did you."

"What would have been the point?" Yang asked.

"We … we could have talked about it," Ruby offered.

Yang couldn't resist a snort. "If you'd wanted to talk about it, you could have told me yourself," she pointed out.

"Professor Ozpin—"

"You don't have to do everything that Professor Ozpin tells you!" Yang snapped.

Ruby flinched. "I mean, I … I kinda do. That's what it means to work for someone."

Yang stared at Ruby. She glared at Ruby. Then a little laugh, a little sighing laugh in which exasperation mingled with amusement, escaped her lips. "Okay, you've got me there, Rubes."

"I'm sorry," Ruby murmured. "I should have insisted to Professor Ozpin that you could be trusted, that you weren't like Raven—"

"Excuse me?" Raven asked.

Ruby let out a little squeak of alarm. "I mean, um—"

"Ozpin didn't want me to know any of this because he's afraid I'll do what you did and run away," Yang said.

"Is that all you think I am?" Raven asked. "A deserter? Someone who ran away?"

"Isn't that what you are?" replied Yang.

Raven sat down on Pyrrha's bed and gestured to Jaune's bed opposite. "Sit down," she demanded.

Yang and Ruby exchanged glances. They hesitated for a moment, before Ruby took a tentative step forwards. Of course, once she had done that, then Yang had very little choice left but to follow, and they both ended up sitting down upon Jaune's bed, opposite and facing Raven.

Raven was silent for a moment, looking at the two girls but saying nothing, her red eyes switching from Yang to Ruby and then back again.

"I told you not to trust Ozpin," she said. "I told you, both of you. I warned you, I told you to keep reading—"

"We did," Ruby said.

"Not enough!" Raven said sharply. "And here you are, eating out of the palm of Ozpin's hand."

"I'm defending humanity," Ruby declared.

Raven almost smiled. "You sound like your mother when you say things like that."

"I take that a compliment."

"You should," Raven replied. "It was intended as such, for the most part, although … you should also ask yourself where your mother is now. Following Ozpin led her to an early grave; it pains me to see you walking the exact same road."

"Well it wouldn't pain Mom!" Ruby cried. "Because Mom understood that—"

"Summer understood nothing!" Raven snapped. "Nothing at all; she was … naïve and foolish and…" She made a sort of choking sound. "And brave. She was so very brave. Too brave, by far. A surfeit of courage and a lack of sense is a deadly combination."

"Is that what you think you did?" Yang asked. "The sensible thing?"

"This isn't about me," Raven replied.

"Isn't it?" replied Yang. "I think that this is all about you."

Raven did not answer. Instead, she kept her eyes fixed on Ruby. "Why?" she asked.

Ruby blinked. "Why … what?"

"Why fight?" Raven asked. "Why give yourself over to Ozpin's service, why risk your life knowing what you're up against, knowing that final victory is impossible?"

"To protect the world," Ruby said, "to protect all the people who live in it."

"'The people,'" Raven repeated. "The people," she said, loading the word with contempt. "And who are these people, whose lives are worth the sacrifice of Summer Rose, of Summer's child? What are the people worth, that Summer should die and you should walk so bravely to your death for their sake and their protection?"

"They're…" Ruby hesitated for a moment. "They're … people."

"Racist people," Raven said. "Venal people. Cruel people. People who would not, themselves, lift a finger to help anyone else, let alone risk their lives for them. People who mistreat those weaker than them — and almost all people mistreat those weaker than themselves; it is the way of the world. For this is a cruel world. A world where only the strong survive unless they have the protection of those who are stronger than them. A world where … a world that consumes the good, the excellent, like Summer, and leaves behind the callous, the cowardly, the indolent; there are dead dogs lying by the side of the road that are worth more than 'people.' A thousand people, a thousand thousand people were not worth Summer's life!" Raven closed her eyes and bowed her head, and her whole body shuddered. "And they are not worth yours."

Ruby was silent for a moment. Yang looked at her and was surprised to see not the expected condemnation in Ruby's eyes, not indignation at how Raven could say such a thing. Instead … instead, in the water that gathered before Ruby's eyes of silver as though she might cry, Yang saw pity.

"I disagree," Ruby said, her voice soft and a little hoarse. "And I'm sorry that you feel the way that you do. I can't imagine what made you feel that way."

"No," Raven murmured. "You cannot." She looked up. "I have seen more of the world than you," she declared. "Even when I was younger, when Summer and I and Tai and Qrow were young, I had seen more of the world than she had—"

"Mom had seen plenty," Ruby replied. "She grew up outside the kingdoms, she almost got mugged on her first day in Vale—"

"Wait," Yang said, "she did?"

"Yeah, I'll tell you about it later—"

"How do you know that?" Yang demanded. "Why don't I know that? It's bad enough that you didn't tell me about Salem, but now you're keeping secrets about Mom, too?"

"Did Ozpin tell you that story?" Raven asked.

Ruby nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, he did."

"When?" Yang asked, forcefully.

"On the day that Jaune and Pyrrha left for Jaune's home," Ruby admitted.

"You talked about Mom, and … and you didn't—"

"We talked a lot about Salem," Ruby explained. "And I didn't … know that you knew about that."

"How much did he tell you?" asked Raven.

"He told me about where Mom came from," Ruby said. "How she got to Vale. How you guys all formed Team Stark."

"Yes," Raven murmured. "Team Stark." She glanced over her shoulder towards Ruby's bed and the wall beyond. "I had ample chance to look around, and I see that you found the marks we made on the wall."

"Yeah," Ruby said. "We made our own. I hope that's okay."

Raven raised one eyebrow. "You hope that's okay?" She blinked. "You seem to have mistaken me for someone involved with this school."

"Well, I didn't want you to think that we were trying to steal your thunder," Ruby murmured.

Raven stared at her.

"Okay, that sounded stupid, didn't it?" Ruby asked.

Raven gave a slight nod of her head.

Ruby groaned slightly.

"If it helps, I thought that it was…" Raven trailed off. "I shouldn't really use this word for the sake of my reputation, but it was … rather sweet. Unless you meant to signal your intent to surpass us, in which case … I would have wished you luck, had the circumstances been better."

"Professor Ozpin told me that he wished he'd made you the leader of the team," Ruby informed her.

"Oz said what?" Raven demanded.

"He said—"

"I heard you the first time," Raven said sharply. She fell silent for a few seconds, actually for more than a few seconds, Ruby counted in her head up to about ten before Raven spoke again. "That old … damn him."

"You don't sound too happy about it," Yang observed.

"It is an insult to Summer," Raven declared. "Who was a fine leader by the way, and don't let Ozpin or anyone else tell you otherwise. She was … I could not have led the team, I did not have that skill, that way of winning hearts that Summer had, I could not have led by inspiration as she did. Summer was … Summer was our only leader. The only one who could have been our leader." She paused again, before she asked. "Did he say why?"

"Because Mom was … because you were more cautious than Mom was," Ruby said. "Because you wanted to keep everyone safe."

"Oh, now he pretends to care for the safety of those who serve him, who die for him," Raven said. "And yet he would still throw you into the same flames which consumed Summer? Hypocritical old bastard."

"I think," Ruby ventured, "that it's because he has to throw us into the fire that he wishes that he'd chosen someone … someone more like you to be the leader of the team that … that went into the fire. That … that's why he made Sunset our team leader, instead of me."

"He said that?" Yang asked.

"I asked him," Ruby explained. "I asked him why he hadn't made me a team leader, when he'd made Mom one."

"Does it bother you?" asked Raven. "Do you covet the honour? Do you resent Sunset for possessing it? I'd offer to give you a second bite at the apple, but if Sunset is cautious and will keep you alive, then perhaps it is better that she, too, stay alive."

"I don't want you to kill her!" Ruby exclaimed. "Why … why would you even say something like that? What kind of person offers to … to murder someone so that I could step into their shoes?"

"You're the only one who said anything about murder," Raven pointed out.

"I…" Ruby abruptly realised that Raven had been right. "Well … well what did you mean, then?"

"What else did Ozpin tell you?" asked Raven, changing the subject.

Yang noticed that Raven had not answered Ruby's question, but didn't care to point it out. She, too, wanted to know what else had passed between Ruby and the headmaster."

"He told me about Ozpin's Stand," Ruby said. "And he told me about how he asked the four of you to come and serve him, the same way that he asked us. And he told me … he told me that the four of you tried to turn Salem to stone."

"What?" Yang gasped. "You … but I thought Salem couldn't be killed."

"That was why the plan wasn't to kill her," Raven explained. "But to petrify her, using Summer's silver eyes to … the exact 'what' of what was meant to happen to Salem was up in the air, whether she would be transformed into stone or simply encased in stone, either way, she'd be alive but trapped, paralysed, unable to move, speak, act, do anything. Summer's eyes, your eyes, Ruby, have that power, you see, not just to destroy grimm—"

"But to turn them into stone," Ruby said. "But … but it didn't work on Salem, did it?"

"No," Raven said, with a sigh. "No, it didn't."

XxXxX​

The silver light faded, and darkness thinly dispersed by candle light returned to dominate the chamber. Summer was on her hands and knees, gasping, panting for breath. That almost never happened to her anymore, Raven thought as she knelt down beside her; normally, Summer could use the eyes without exhausting herself; she must have really hit Salem with everything she had.

The laughter from the other end of the room told her that it hadn't been enough.

"Is that all there is?" Salem asked in a tongue thick with mockery. "Was that your plan? Is there nothing else?"

No one replied. Qrow and Tai were staring at Salem in horror, while Raven's eyes flickered between the two ends of the room. One side stood the demon, strong and tall and unaffected by the power that Raven had seen turn grimm to stone or worse by hordes and multitudes. On the other side knelt Summer, sweet Summer, smiling Summer, kind Summer, kneeling, beaten and crushed before the power of their enemy.

This was a world where only the strong survived.

"That's not possible," Tai whispered.

Summer's eyes were closed, and in between gasping breaths, she winced in pain. "I'm sorry," she whimpered, though so softly that Raven couldn't be certain that anyone heard but her.

"Such a gift you have, Summer," Salem said. "I marvel at it anew each time I witness it." She snapped her fingers once again. "Save the silver eyed warrior. Kill the others."

The howling and the roaring and the shrieking of the grimm without rose to new heights of volume and intensity; Raven could hear footsteps pounding down the corridor outside as the beringels bellowed in their bloodlust.

Raven grabbed Summer's arm and draped it over her shoulder. "I'm guessing you're not up to another flash?"

Summer could barely keep hold of her weapon. It hung useless in her trembling. "I'm afraid not. Sorry."

"It's okay," Raven said. "It's all going to be okay. I've got you." Oz had got them into this, Summer had led them into this, but she, Raven, would get them out again. That was what she did: she kept them alive. And she already had a plan. "Qrow, get back to the Bullhead."

"What?" Qrow said. "I can't just—"

"Get back to the Bullhead," Raven snapped, impatient with his denseness. Wasn't it obvious what she intended? "We'll follow."

Realisation dawned upon his face. About time. "Right. I'll be as fast as I can."

"You'd better," Raven muttered. "Tai, make a hole." Salem seemed content to leave it to her grimm to prevent their escape. She watched them from the back of the room as though she were grading their efforts. Like Ozpin — a surge of anger shot through Raven at the thought of him — she used others as her weapons without sullying her own hands with combat. They could only hope that it would stay that way.

The doors behind them burst open to reveal a half-dozen beringels, and more a little further behind. But Qrow was already moving, shooting the first one twice in the face with Harbinger before he leapt. A beringel grabbed for him, massive fingers closing around where his midriff would have been, but the red-eyed crow that he had become merely slipped through the monster's grip and flew away. Tai took advantage of the distraction of the grimm to throw it over his shoulder and punch it so hard that its head disintegrated.

Arms, a host of arms as long as serpents, devoid of visible bodies, emerged from out of the floor to reach with two-fingered hands for Raven and Summer. Raven slashed at them with her sword as she inched towards the door, following the path that Taiyang was clearing through the beringels.

Raven could only hope that Qrow's bad luck didn't make things even worse for them, for surely, they had had enough bad luck today already.

XxXxX​

"My semblance allows me to create portals," Raven said. "I, and others, can use them to move between locations—"

"Is that how you keep showing up here?" Yang asked.

"It is," Raven said. "I can open a portal to anyone I care about, and so, I can find you."

Yang wasn't sure if she ought to be touched by that or not.

She was kind of touched by it. Kind of.

"That's … nice," she murmured. "It would have been nicer if you'd stuck around, but still … that's nice."

"If I had stuck around, then Ruby wouldn't be here, would she?" Raven pointed out.

Yang didn't reply. Ruby said, "So you used a portal to get out?"

"I sent Qrow on ahead to get to our airship, then used a portal to get Summer, Tai, and myself back there too," Raven explained. "Then we managed to make it to Ironwood's warship waiting for us offshore." She paused for a moment. "Summer hit Salem with her very best shot, and Salem … Salem didn't even flinch. Summer gave it everything she had, everything. And it didn't matter. It didn't do a thing."

"So?" Ruby asked.

"So?" Raven repeated. "So … so what? Haven't you been listening?"

"Yes," Ruby said. "I have. And I know that … well, I don't know, but I guess that it was hard for you, disappointing—"

"'Disappointing' is putting it mildly," Raven said. "I thought … I thought this would work. We all thought that it would work: Summer, Oz, but I blame myself the most because I—"

"Was the protector," Ruby murmured. "You're the one who should have seen it coming."

"I'm the one who should have seen Oz's plan for the nonsense it was," Raven said. "Instead … instead, I let myself get swept up in the grandeur of it all, let myself get carried away by Summer's enthusiasm … no, not Summer's enthusiasm; I can't blame her for this, not when … I let myself get swept up in the idea that we could end the war, that I wouldn't have to watch it consume the people that I cared about, that we could live … happily ever after."

"I'm sorry," Ruby said. "I really am sorry."

Raven blinked. "From you," she said, "from Summer's girl, I can … I can almost believe that."

"But just because it didn't work doesn't mean you had to leave," Ruby insisted. "You could have stayed, you could have fought, you could have—"

"Watched Summer die?" Raven asked. "Watched Tai die?" She shook her head. "There are many kinds of courage, Ruby Rose, and courage on the battlefield is only one of them. Summer … Summer had every kind of courage, but I … I have less than she did."

XxXxX​

"Raven, please!"

"Don't try and stop me, Summer; I've made up my mind."

"I'm not trying to stop you," Summer cried. "I'm asking you, please, reconsider." She paused. "Don't do this."

Raven turned back, looking at her through the trees. It was winter now, and the trees themselves were leafless, barren, their branches like arms, their twigs like twisted fingers reaching out. A light covering of snow lay on the ground, and it crunched beneath Raven's feet as she walked a couple of steps back towards Summer.

"What should I do else?" Raven asked.

"What you've always done," Summer replied, her voice soft and yet carrying through the night. "Fight with us."

"It's not that simple."

"At the end of the day, everything we do as huntresses boils down to that one simple fact."

"Nothing about this fight is simple!" Raven yelled. "It never was, and it certainly hasn't been since we got back from … from facing her."

Summer was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Raven stared at her for a moment. "This … you've got nothing to apologise for."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't; Ozpin—"

"Ozpin asked if I thought I could do it, and I told him that I could," Summer insisted. "I should have … I should never have gotten your hopes up, any of you, including Professor Ozpin." She paused. "There never was much hope. Just a fool's hope. I shouldn't have made you think otherwise."

"That's not on you."

"You're hard on Professor Ozpin."

"Professor Ozpin is the reason we're in this situation."

"Salem would still be out there, whether we knew it or not," Summer reminded her. "Isn't it better that we know?"

"What's the point when we can't do anything with what we know?" Raven shot back. "If knowledge brings nothing but fear and dread, then I would sooner live in ignorance with the rest of the befuddled multitude. But that's not possible anymore, is it?"

"No," Summer said, shaking her head. "No, that … that's all gone now. All that's left to decide is what we're going to do with what we know."

Raven closed her eyes. "I am not a coward," she said, not sounding entirely convincing upon that point.

"I know," Summer said. "I've never said otherwise."

"I am … I would give my life for you, for Tai, even for Qrow, for all that he drives me insane sometimes," Raven said. She wiped at her eyes with the fingers of one hand. "But you … when you ask me to stay and fight, you're asking me to watch you die. And that … I don't have that kind of courage. I can't protect you from this if you insist on putting yourselves in harm's way, and if I can't protect you … I'm sorry, Summer, I can't do this. I can't watch you do this. I love you too much. I'm sorry."

Summer was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry too," she whispered. "Where … where will you go?"

"Back to the tribe," Raven said. "It's not much … in fact, it's pretty awful, I must admit, but … but it's the only place I have." She turned away, but glanced back at Summer nevertheless. "Take care of Tai and Yang."

"You … you're not taking—"

"The Branwen tribe is no place for a baby," Raven said. "Better that she should stay here, with her father who loves her and…"

Summer hesitated. "And…"

"I have stolen," Raven said. "I have killed men, I have stood by and watched others kill men, but the act that haunts my conscience … will probably be this, once I have gone and done it, but right now, the act that haunts my conscience most is that I came between you and Tai. I knew you liked him. I thought it was absurd the way that you didn't do anything about it; you just stood there and looked at his back with those big eyes of yours, but I … I should have left well enough alone, I shouldn't have—"

"Shouldn't have said yes when he asked you out?" Summer asked. "Shouldn't have fallen in love with him? Tai … Tai didn't belong to me, and … and the fact that he saw you instead of me is … is not your fault."

"You won't have me to compete with anymore," Raven said.

"I don't want you to go!" Summer cried. "I want you to stay, with Tai, with Yang, with me."

"To what end?" Raven demanded.

"To our happiness," Summer said. "While we have it."

Raven turned her back on her. "I'm sorry, Summer," she said, "but that's not enough to hold me. Not… not when set against the pain of when that happiness eventually ends. Goodbye."

XxXxX​

"Death is the end of this road," Raven declared. "Death or flight, like myself, or your father."

"Dad hasn't run away," Yang said.

"Yes," Raven said, "he has. I don't begrudge him that — in fact, I think he made the right decision to stay and take care of you both — but he isn't better than me for flying to a cottage instead of … it doesn't make him better than me." She paused for a moment. "There will come a time, a time that may come much sooner than you imagine, when it will hit your friends like a truck: just what you've gotten yourself into, just how hopeless it is, how pointless it is—"

"It isn't pointless!" Ruby declared.

"Can you guarantee that they'll see it the same way?" Raven asked. "Sunset, Pyrrha … the other one?"

"Jaune."

"Jaune, yes, thank you," Raven said. "Can you really say for certain that they will all agree with you, that their wills won't falter, that they won't look at one another and think that they would rather live their lives than give them in this endless futile war?"

"No," Ruby said firmly. "I mean yes, I mean … I mean they won't…" Ruby trailed off.

If she wasn't certain, if she couldn't defy Raven's predictions absolutely, then … then Yang couldn't blame her for that. Sunset had denied that she would do what Raven had, she had promised that she wasn't going to run, but then she'd disappeared for a bit. And yes, she'd come back a few days later with an explanation about a solo mission and Equestrian magic and apparently two Atlesian students had been with her to prove that it wasn't a gigantic pile of BS that she'd just made up to explain running away and then growing a conscience, but still … Yang was grateful to Sunset for telling her the truth when Ruby wouldn't, but that didn't mean she trusted her.

And as for Jaune and Pyrrha … they were so sweet, it was rotting Yang's teeth, but if they were to decide that they would rather spend their lives together than give them in this war, then Yang didn't think she'd be able to blame them.

She didn't think Ruby would be able to blame them either.

"I don't know what my friends will do," Ruby said. "And I can't control them. I can only decide what I can do. And I've decided that I'm going to fight this fight as best I can for as long as I can, like Mom."

"Even to your end?" Raven asked.

"If that's what it takes," Ruby whispered.

Raven sighed. "Ozpin is not worthy of the courage of those who serve him," she declared.

"Professor Ozpin is defending humanity," Ruby said. "What could be more worthy than that?"

"He could inform his warriors of everything, instead of dispensing knowledge according to his own designs," Raven said. "Yang, you asked me if you had left anything out, and you had, the Four Maidens—"

The dorm room door opened violently, slamming into the wall with a thunderous crack.

Professor Goodwitch strode through the open doorway, her cape swaying side to side behind her, her riding crop gripped tightly in her hand.

Her green eyes blazed as she glared at Raven.

Her voice, when she spoke, was clipped and sharp. "Miss Rose, Miss Xiao Long," she said. "Get behind me, immediately."

Yang looked at her. Behind her, in the doorway, she could see Ren and Nora peering in.

She guessed that they had called Professor Goodwitch after Raven kicked them out.

Thanks for caring, guys, even if I'm not sure how grateful I am right now.

"Professor—" Ruby began.

"Now!" Professor Goodwitch snapped.

Yang and Ruby scrambled over the bed, putting it between themselves and Raven, before making their way behind Professor Goodwitch; while they might not agree that Raven was dangerous to them, they didn't want to get on Professor Goodwitch's bad side when she was in a mood like this.

Raven got to her feet, walking away from Yang and Ruby. "Glynda," she said softly.

"In this place, Miss Branwen, you call me Professor," Professor Goodwitch said.

Raven smirked. "People don't talk to me like that very often these days, Professor," she said. "It's … a little refreshing. Should we be expecting Oz to join us?"

"Professor Ozpin feels sorry for you," Professor Goodwitch said. "He feels guilty—"

"And so he should," Raven replied.

"I, on the other hand, do not," Professor Goodwitch said. "And I am quite capable of evicting you from the grounds."

"I'm not the arrogant first-year student who thought that she could take you on, Professor," Raven said.

"Try me, Miss Branwen, and I will show you how much you still have to learn," Professor Goodwitch said.

Raven chuckled. "Then it's lucky for me that I didn't come here to fight, isn't it, Professor?" She walked to the window and opened it. She glanced back at Yang. "Ruby's choice doesn't have to be yours, Yang," she said. "You don't have to get involved, especially when you're not wanted. You can still do what's best for yourself."

"And what about my family?" Yang demanded.

"What kind of family keeps the truth about your mother from you?" Raven asked.

Ruby opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, Raven had leapt out of the window.

Nora gasped.

"She'll be alright," Professor Goodwitch said. "Unfortunately. She will also be gone from here by now." She turned around. "Miss Valkyrie, Mister Ren, will you give me a moment with Miss Xiao Long and Miss Rose?"

"But—" Nora began.

"I am grateful to you for informing me of the presence of that reprobate," Professor Goodwitch said, "but there are some things that must be discussed privately."

Nora groaned and muttered something about 'again,' but they did close the door.

Professor Goodwitch clasped her riding crop behind her back. Her voice was softer as she said, "Miss Xiao Long … I can't imagine what that must have been like for you. I'm sorry that I have to ask this, but—"

"It's alright, Professor," Yang said. "She didn't tell me anything that I didn't already know."

Professor Goodwitch stared at her, eyes narrowing.

Yang stared right back. "That's right, Professor," she said. "I know."

Professor Goodwitch's chest rose and fell. "I see," she murmured. "I think that you had better come to my office, Miss Xiao Long."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Left Behind
​

Yang could not quite keep the frown off her brow as she followed Professor Goodwitch into her office.

This was … she kind of wanted this. She had, she realized, wanted this, wanted something like this, ever since Sunset had pulled her into that storage closet in the hospital and told her the truth. She had wanted someone — Professor Ozpin, Professor Goodwitch, anyone — to confirm what Sunset had said, to not only confirm that Sunset had told her the truth but also to confirm why they hadn't told Yang.

Why they had told Ruby all of this, but not her?

Why Ruby hadn't told her. Why Ruby had apparently been forbidden to tell her.

And yet, at the same time, the fact that she was now getting what she wanted brought her no joy. In fact, she was more than a little upset about the whole thing; she was upset that it had taken Raven showing up to bring things to this point; she was upset that if Nora and Ren hadn't called Professor Goodwitch about Raven, then Professor Goodwitch would have had no reason to give her this meeting, then she would never have known that Yang knew any of this.

She was upset that the only reason Professor Goodwitch was talking to her about this was because she didn't want Yang blabbering about things that she didn't really want Yang to know in the first place.

She was upset that the only two people who seemed to think that she deserved to know any of this stuff were her no-good abandoning mother and Sunset Shimmer, who was on her way to being a no-good abandoner herself, in Yang's judgement.

She was upset that she was getting what she wanted in a way quite unlike she would have wanted to come by it.

Yang expected Professor Goodwitch to sit down behind her desk, but she did not; instead, as Yang shut the office door behind her, Professor Goodwitch walked briskly towards the royal blue armchair that sat just past the corner of the office, facing the burgundy sofa that sat against the wall beneath a set of framed accreditations and qualifications from various institutes and professional organisations.

Professor Goodwitch's heels clicked against the tiles of the floor as she walked to the chair and sat down upon it. With one hand, she gestured to the sofa. "Please, sit down, Miss Xiao Long."

Yang's steps were slow, but she did as Professor Goodwitch had asked, making her way towards the sofa and sitting down in the middle of it, not too close to Professor Goodwitch but not too far away either, just the right distance from her.

She rested her hands on either side of her, feeling the slightly uneven texture of the sofa beneath her fingertips.

Professor Goodwitch gestured with her riding crop, and the bowl of sweets that sat on her desk levitated up and zipped across the office towards her, coming to a stop floating just in front of Yang.

"Would you care for something, Miss Xiao Long?" Professor Goodwitch asked.

Yang wasn't sure that she would, but at this point, it would have felt rude to refuse, and so she reached out towards the glass bowl and took out a lemon and lime flavour chew. As Professor Goodwitch telekinetically placed the bowl back on her desk, Yang unwrapped the sweet — it was green and soft and squishy to the touch — and popped it into her mouth. It had a tangy flavour. As she chewed, Yang looked for somewhere to put the paper wrapper.

Professor Goodwitch gave a very discrete flick of her riding crop, and a waste paper bin of black wire scraped across the floor a little closer towards them.

Yang curled up the paper and threw it into the bin with unerring accuracy.

Professor Goodwitch said, "Miss Xiao Long, I am sure that you must have questions, but I am afraid that I must begin with a question of my own. Who told you about Salem?"

Yang swallowed the sweet. "I'm not a snitch, Professor."

"Professor Ozpin will want to know how you came by this knowledge," Professor Goodwitch said.

"Tough," Yang replied. "I'm not going to get someone into trouble."

Professor Goodwitch was silent for a moment. "I think I can hazard a guess as to where you might have heard all of this, but … why don't we just say that Raven told you and leave it at that?"

Yang hesitated for a moment. "Thank you, Professor."

"Despite how it may seem, Miss Xiao Long, I would like to respect your wishes," Professor Goodwitch said softly.

Yang scowled. "You're right; it doesn't seem that way."

Professor Goodwitch frowned, although by the way that her mouth turned down, it seemed like she wasn't frowning out of anger so much as … sadness? Was she sad? Yang couldn't really imagine what she had to be sad about.

"I'm sorry, Yang," she said, her voice unexpectedly soft and gentle. "You deserve — in my opinion, at least — better than this. I can't imagine how hard all of this must be for you."

"I'll bet you can't," Yang muttered.

Professor Goodwitch said, "If you're angry, then please feel free to let me know it. This is … a safe space."

Yang blinked. "Are we … are we having therapy?"

"No," Professor Goodwitch said. "But I think that some of the conditions of counselling are applicable in this case. Feel free to yell at me, if you wish."

"Oh, thank you, Professor, that's really nice of you, to admit that I have things to be angry about," Yang said, her voice rising. "I'm angry that Ruby, who is only fifteen, who is just a first-year student, has spent the whole year getting involved in stuff that grown huntsmen ought to be doing; no, in fact, it's even worse than that: she's doing things that most grown huntsmen never even come close to doing! That most grown huntsmen never even know about! I'm angry because I came into this office, and I talked to you about this at the start of last semester; I told you that I didn't get why Ruby and her team were doing a job like that instead of any professional huntsmen, and you acted as though you were on my side, and then you turned around and you recruited her to fight some immortal witch who can't be killed, and yes, I know that's a tauta— … a tortuo— … I know that those things both mean the same!

"I'm angry that you trusted Ruby, and Jaune, and … okay, Pyrrha I can get; if I was in your shoes, I'd want Pyrrha on the team too, but Jaune and Sunset? You thought Sunset was trustworthy, you thought that Sunset could be told about this, and that was fine, but me? No, you made it clear to Ruby that I wasn't supposed to know any of this. And more than that, Professor Ozpin has started telling Ruby all about Mom, but I don't deserve to know any of that either!

"She was my mother too!" Yang cried, leaning forwards, tears springing to her eyes. "Just because she didn't give birth to me like she did Ruby … she's the one who I remember tucking me in at night, and when I scraped my knees, she's the one who kissed it better. She was my mother too, and I'm not even … even that is being kept from me, by Professor Ozpin, by Ruby. By Ruby, who complains about the way that her teammates treat her while treating me in the exact same way, and I'm angry at myself because I'm aware of the hypocrisy of me actually knowing this stuff and not telling Ren or Nora about it."

She closed her eyes, wiping away her tears with one hand. "And I'm angry because … because it seems like Raven was right. You did recruit Ruby just like you recruited Mom and Dad and Raven and Uncle Qrow, and … and Mom died, and now, Ruby is walking down that exact same path, and … will she even live long enough to have a kid of her own to abandon?"

Professor Goodwitch waited for a moment, seemingly to confirm that Yang was done. "And Miss Belladonna?"

Yang blinked. "What about her?"

"She also knows the truth; she also kept it from you."

"I'm not angry at her, if that's what you mean," Yang said. "If we were real partners, then sure, I'd be angry at her too, but … what we have is a … it's convenient. It's convenient for her, it's convenient for me and my team, but next year, she'll be gone to Atlas, and … she doesn't owe me anything. Besides, it's only because she's halfway through the door to Atlas already that she knows anything about this, right?"

Professor Goodwitch did not reply.

"Come on, Professor," Yang said. "I already know so much; what have you got to lose by telling me the rest?"

"More than a little," Professor Goodwitch replied. "But you are … not incorrect. It was not Professor Ozpin's choice to inform Miss Belladonna — although Professor Ozpin's plans do sometimes rely on his ability to predict the actions of others, so I wouldn't wholly discount the possibility — and if she had not been associated with Team Rosepetal, then it is possible that she would have remained in the dark about this." She paused for a moment. "I must ask that you continue to keep Miss Valkyrie and Mister Ren ignorant of these facts that you have learned."

"Why?" Yang asked. "Why keep it a secret?"

"You saw how people reacted in the immediate aftermath of the Breach," Professor Goodwitch said. "Just the reminder that we live in a dangerous world was enough to shock the inhabitants of this kingdom. Imagine what knowledge such as you possess would do. And to what end? As you seem to be aware, Salem cannot be killed, so what would people do with the knowledge that she exists? Brood upon it, panic at it, despair at it? The best thing that they could do is put it from their minds, and that being the case, it is better that it never enters their minds to begin with."

"When you put it like that, Professor, it makes me wonder why she doesn't publicise herself," Yang murmured.

Professor Goodwith was silent for a moment. "That is not a bad point," she conceded. "But neither I, nor Professor Ozpin, is inclined to look that particular gift horse in the mouth." Again, she paused. "This … this may sound self-serving, and you are free to dismiss it if you wish, but … I think Professor Ozpin was wrong to keep this from you. If it had been my choice, I would have brought Team Iron into the fold, rather than Team Sapphire."

Yang's eyebrows. "You … really?"

Professor Goodwitch ventured a small smile. "Is that so surprising, Miss Xiao Long?"

Yang was silent for a second. "Um … kinda?"

Professor Goodwitch rose to her feet, walking across the room towards the window. It was dark outside, but the stars offered little pinpricks of light in the blackness beyond. "Partly, I must admit, it is nothing more than personal preference. We all, I think, choose those to whom we feel … those we feel are more like ourselves. So, General Ironwood would choose — has chosen — those who are skilled applicants of force … and not much more," she added, with clear disdain that Yang didn't know the Atlesians well enough to judge whether it was earned or not.

"I'm not sure Blake's like that," she ventured. "In fact, I'm pretty sure she isn't."

"How would you know, Miss Xiao Long?" Professor Goodwitch asked.

That was a good point, to which Yang had no response.

"And Professor Ozpin?" she asked, changing the subject. "And you?"

Professor Goodwitch was silent for a moment. "Do you know what Raven Branwen is?" she asked. "Did she tell you?"

Yang wasn't sure what the professor's question had to do with hers, but she answered it nevertheless. "No, she didn't. It didn't come up."

"I can imagine it didn't," Professor Goodwitch growled. "Raven is a bandit."

Yang's eyebrows rose. "A … a bandit."

It was … not what she had been expecting. She had known that Raven had ditched her, ditched Dad, run away and abandoned her family, but to what, to where … she had had no idea. She hadn't really thought about it. The what, she meant. She'd thought about the where a whole lot, but the what … whenever she had imagined finding her mother again, whenever she had thought about their reunion … what her mother was, what Raven was beyond Yang's mother, that … that was kind of hazy. It wasn't something she had been concerned with.

She couldn't help but be concerned now. "You … you're not talking about a romantic bandit, are you? Not someone who took up arms against a wicked official or whatever?"

"No, Miss Xiao Long, I am talking about the kind of bandit that steals, that murders anyone who comes between her and that which she wishes to steal, who despoils villages, and whose depredations call down the grimm on any poor souls who happen to survive her attack, that is the kind of bandit Raven Branwen is." Professor Goodwitch sighed. "That is why I cannot forgive her, as Professor Ozpin might. I could, perhaps, forgive the cowardice; I could forgive her for running away, for forsaking the battle; if that were all that she had done, it might be said that Professor Ozpin chose poorly … he did choose poorly, in my opinion, just as in my opinion he has done so again, but I could possibly forgive Raven for not living up to the expectations placed upon her. But for what she did afterwards, for what she turned to after her flight … that, I cannot forgive. That deserves nothing but my contempt."

Yang swallowed. It was not what she had expected … and it was not what she had wanted to hear. Her mother … a bandit. Her mother, a murderer; her mother, a thief. Her mother, the most wretched scum on Remnant.

And that was the woman I wanted to find so badly. No wonder Dad and Uncle Qrow didn't tell me anything about her, or where she might be.
I guess they were trying to protect me, after all.

Not that that makes it any better. Ruby might have been trying to protect me too, but it doesn't make that any better either.

She could not meet Professor Goodwitch's eyes. She looked down at her knees, and upon her hands which rested upon them.

"Why?" she asked. "Of all the things that she could do, why that?"

Professor Goodwitch did not reply.

"Professor?" Yang asked, looking up at her.

"I fear I may have said too much already," Professor Goodwitch said softly. "Your father and uncle might not—"

"Come on, Professor!" Yang cried. "Whether or not you've said too much, you've said it now; you can't take it back. You may as well tell me the rest."

Professor Goodwitch nodded. "Very well. Raven returned to banditry; she had been born into it; the Branwen Tribe are a particularly notorious group of outlaws. She, and your uncle, were sent to Beacon to … to hone the skills that they would then bring back to their tribe, for that tribe's benefit."

Yang's eyes widened. "Did … did you know that at the time, or—?"

"They admitted as much, eventually," Professor Goodwitch said.

"Uncle Qrow, too?" Yang whispered.

"You should not judge your uncle for this," Professor Goodwitch told her. "No one can help who they are born or where they are born into; unlike Raven, he did not return to the tribe or to their way or life. Unlike Raven, he rose to Professor Ozpin's expectations of him, regardless of whether you think it was right to put such expectations upon him in the first place."

"You didn't think they should?" Yang guessed.

"I knew there was something that the Branwen twins were hiding; I just didn't know what it was," Professor Goodwitch said. "And I must admit that I never really liked Raven. At that time, I wasn't particularly fond of Qrow, either."

"And now?"

"Now … now, I must concede that your uncle has earned our trust and a place in our circle," Professor Goodwitch said.

"And my mom?" asked Yang. "Summer, I mean, and Dad?"

Professor Goodwitch glanced away, towards the window and the night beyond. "The whole of Team Stark was … very young," she said. "Too young, I thought. But then, I was very young myself at the time, young and unsure of my place, still less of my right to criticize Professor Ozpin or speak out against him. I had only taken up the post of combat instructor the year before, and I had only graduated a couple of years before that."

"Did you know?" Yang asked. "About Salem and all the rest, before you got the job?"

"No," Professor Goodwitch replied. "That was something that came up with Professor Ozpin shortly before my first term began. 'Ah, Glynda, how are you settling in? Splendid. Just wanted to go over a few details, check that you were ready to go, don't hesitate to ask if you need help with lesson plans, and by the way, the grimm are led by an immortal queen who cannot be killed, and part of your job is to train the students to do battle with her sinister agents. Best of luck.'"

Yang snorted. That snort turned into a brief fit of the giggles, which forced her to cover her mouth with one hand. "Sorry, Professor," she said.

But Professor Goodwitch was smiling as well. "It wasn't quite that perfunctory," she admitted. "But it was not far off."

Yang smiled. "So … none of the rest of your team, no one—"

"No," Professor Goodwitch said. "No one but myself."

"That must have been hard," Yang murmured.

"There were certainly people that I wanted to tell," Professor Goodwitch admitted. "But what good would it have done? What would it have helped to have told my old partner, any friends? The people … the people I most wanted to tell were the students. I wanted to tell them what they were really up against. I know that some students find my combat class a little … puzzling. They don't understand why so much time is devoted to teaching you how to fight other human or faunus opponents when the primary purpose of a huntsman is to fight grimm."

Yang shrugged. "Bandits—"

"Who frequently have no aura, or very little of it, and no training such as you receive here," Professor Goodwitch said. "If that were all, my class truly would be a waste of time."

"The Vytal Festival?" Yang offered.

"Yes," Professor Goodwitch said, without much enthusiasm. "Yes, that is the common answer. A lot of students do see my class as training and preparation for the tournament, and those who have less interest in the tournament can sometimes see my class as a lark in response. I wanted to tell them all, to shake them by the collar, to shout at them 'This is not a game! This could be life and death!'"

"Then why didn't you?" Yang asked.

Professor Goodwitch took a deep breath. "Professor Ozpin revealed a little more to me of the history of this struggle, how the knowledge of Salem has … broken people. Broken them as it broke Raven, or worse."

Yang frowned. "What's worse than banditry?"

"Betrayal," Professor Goodwitch replied. "Some, driven by fear of Salem, have joined her in the hopes of fair advantage or simple survival. The more people are aware of the truth, the greater the chance that some of them will be…"

"Broken by it," Yang finished for her. "Which is why Professor Ozpin didn't want me to know. To be honest…"

"Yes, Miss Xiao Long?"

"I'm a little surprised he let me into Beacon," Yang admitted. "What with what my—"

"You are not Raven Branwen, Yang," Professor Goodwitch said, her voice softening. She returned to her chair. "You were not born guilty of her crimes."

"But I am her daughter," Yang murmured. "And that's why Professor Ozpin doesn't trust me."

"Then Professor Ozpin is mistaken," Professor Goodwitch said firmly. "You are nothing like Raven. You have far too much of your mother in you."
Yang looked at her. "I…" She blinked rapidly. "Thank you, Professor," she murmured. She shuffled across the sofa, closer to Professor Goodwitch.
"For what?" Professor Goodwitch said. "For truth? Summer Rose was brave, yes, but also kind and thoughtful, considerate of others' weaknesses as well as their strengths. I am sure, I know, that she would be very proud of the person you've become."

Yang smiled, she could not resist the smile that spread across her face. "You … you never actually answered my question, Professor."

"Which question?" Professor Goodwitch asked.

"What you and Professor Ozpin look for and why it's different," Yang reminded her.

"Ah, yes," Professor Goodwitch said. "You mean, why Professor Ozpin chose Team Sapphire in whom to place his trust, while I would have chosen you?"

Yang nodded.

Professor Goodwitch paused for a moment. "Professor Ozpin … Professor Ozpin is of two minds in what he wants; on the one hand, he favours those with an outsized desire to do good, a self-conscious sense of heroism about them; one might almost call it a belief that one is the hero of one's own story. And yet, he also favours those who require … some work. Those like Raven."

"Or Sunset," Yang said.

"I'm not going to comment on present students; that would be very unprofessional," Professor Goodwitch said.

"Fair enough," Yang said, "but what about you, Professor? What would you choose, if the choice was yours?"

She could understand how Team Sapphire fit Professor Goodwitch's description of Professor Ozpin's aims; now, she couldn't help but be curious as to how she saw Yang and her own team.

"I must admit," Professor Goodwitch said, "that I wasn't certain about your team at first. I wasn't sure about Miss Valkyrie and Mister Ren, how they would get along, but the three of you — leaving Miss Belladonna aside, given her status — have shown me the makings of professional huntsmen and huntresses. You have completed the missions assigned to you with a minimum of fuss, you have answered the call when you have heard it … that is what I would look for, if it were up to me: those who could get the job done, quickly, cleanly, professionally. Is that the praise you were hoping for, Miss Xiao Long?"

"It's maybe not what I expected," Yang said. "But I'll take it."

As she said that, she realized that while it may not have been what she expected, she could understand what Professor Goodwitch was saying. You might not look at Nora — or Yang herself — and immediately think the word 'professional,' but they never let their manners get in the way of the work.

"But I still can't tell them," she said. "Can I?"

"No," Professor Goodwitch said. "I'm afraid not. Professor Ozpin is our leader, for good or ill. But, since you know already, having been informed by … Raven, do you have any questions?"

Yang let out a sort of laugh. "I suppose we could start with 'it's all true, isn't it?' Salem, immortal, unkillable, controls the grimm."

"Sadly, yes," Professor Goodwitch replied. "All true."

"How does that work?" Yang asked. "Controlling the grimm?"

"I hardly know; the opportunity to study it has been limited," Professor Goodwitch said. "But direct control is … rare, it seems. The grimm are not a hivemind, and most of the time appear to be driven by the base instincts that you learn about in Professor Port's Grimm Studies."

"Glad to know that's not a complete waste of time," Yang muttered. "I … I don't know, Professor; this is so big that it's hard to know where to … why students? You've told me why, out of all the students at this school, Professor Ozpin chose Team Sapphire, but … why students? He waited until you graduated, why not do that?"

"Sometimes it isn't always possible," Professor Goodwitch said. "Events move at their own pace, or at a pace dictated by Salem. When Miss Fall's treachery was discovered … it became necessary to move swiftly."

"There was no one else?" asked Yang. "No real huntsmen at all you could have sent to Mountain Glenn?"

"Only your uncle Qrow," Professor Goodwitch said. "And he has been out of contact for a while."

"So, less of a secret conspiracy, and more of a…" Yang trailed off. "'Out of contact'?"

"That's not unusual, unfortunately."

"Yeah, for us," Yang said. "Since Uncle Qrow quit teaching, he can go weeks, months without dropping by or calling or … anything like that. But I figured that since he works for you on something this important that you'd know how to find out where he was. You … you don't?"

"If Qrow chooses to go dark, it must be because he considers it important to do so," Professor Goodwitch said. "Any attempt we could make to reach him could compromise his position."

"Yeah, but he could also be dead somewhere, and you'd never know," Yang declared. "Just like Mom."

"Unfortunately, yes, that is also true."

Yang frowned. It's Uncle Qrow; he'll be fine.

I hope he'll be fine.

He'd better be fine.

"So … aside from Uncle Qrow, you've got no one else, so you had to recruit Team Sapphire?"

"Yes," Professor Goodwitch said, not sounding very proud of the fact.

"How did you manage when Uncle Qrow was teaching at Signal?"

"There were others, at that time," Professor Goodwitch said softly.

Yang didn't ask what had happened to them. She could guess the answers already. "I gotta say, Professor, you're not filling me up with good feelings about all this."

"I wish that I had more comfort to offer you," Professor Goodwitch said. "But I think you would rather have the truth than comforting lies, wouldn't you?"

Yang snorted. "Yeah," she said, "yeah, I would." She paused for a moment. "Professor … what are the Four Maidens?"

Professor Goodwitch's eyebrows rose. "Not something I would have expected you to know about."

Not something that Sunset chose not to tell me then, something she doesn't know either. "I really did hear that from Raven," Yang explained. "You burst in before she could spill the details."

"I'm afraid that I won't be providing the explanation that she did not," Professor Goodwitch said.

"But you do know the answer," Yang said.

"Yes," Professor Goodwitch allowed. "But there are secrets that … lives would be put in danger by spreading certain information too freely."

"The lives of the Four Maidens?" Yang asked.

Professor Goodwitch's eyes narrowed slightly.

Yang raised her hands. "Okay, okay, I get it."

She wasn't entirely happy about the fact, but she could appreciate that people's lives — the lives of the Four Maidens, the lives of people connected with them maybe — were more important than her desire to know. She wanted answers, but not if those answers were going to get people killed.

You had to be … professional, about these things.

"Why … just because I'm not supposed to know about Salem, why does that mean that I can't learn about Mom?"

"Well," Professor Goodwitch said, "Professor Ozpin isn't the only person who could tell you about your mother."

"Really?" Yang asked, her voice rising. "Like … now?"

Professor Goodwitch checked the time on her watch. "If you wish."

A part of Yang knew that she ought to get Ruby; another part of her felt that turnaround was eminently fair play in this particular situation.

"I'd like that a lot, Professor," she said. "Thank you."

Professor Goodwitch smiled. "Well then," she said. "My first memory of your mother is of the very first combat class that she participated in. Raven had humiliated herself at the beginning of the lesson, so I intended to take pity on the rest of Team Stark, but your mother stood up and volunteered for the first fight."

"Did you pit the students against one another to see what level they were at, the way you did for us?" Yang asked.

"Precisely," Professor Goodwitch said. "Now, for Summer's opponent, I chose a huntress named Celestia…"

 

[ScipioSmith]

Sisterly Squabble

​

"Yang—"

"Go away, Ruby, I'm not in the mood," Yang said, her tone a surly one.

She was sitting on the roof of the dorm room, looking out across the campus, and from there, farther off, across Vale itself. Close by, the Emerald Tower loomed, its green lights shining brightly like a … well, like a Beacon. The lights of Vale glimmered down below, like diamonds, or stars that had fallen to the ground. She couldn't make them out very clearly, though, not like she could the lights of the tower.

She could make out the lights of the Atlesian cruisers as well, she had to admit, blinking red and green as they glided in their stately fashion through the air, patrolling over Vale — and over Beacon too — like big black whales attended on by scores of little fish.

But again and again, as she sat on the roof, Yang's eyes were drawn to the big green lights of the Emerald Tower. She wondered if Professor Ozpin was still up there, in his office at the top of the tower. Working away, not necessarily in running the school, but in devising ways to stop or hinder Salem, to keep Vale and humanity safe.

To throw Team SAPR into battle again.

Yang sat on the roof with her knees up and her arms wrapped around her legs, and she paid no attention whatsoever to the person standing in the doorway behind her.

"Yang," Ruby repeated. "Come on, can't we at least talk about this?"

"Oh, now you want to talk about this?" Yang demanded. "Well maybe I don't, not anymore." Not right now, anyway. She would talk to Ruby, eventually; she would forgive Ruby, because of course she would — she was her little sister, and she loved her — but … but she was allowed to be upset about this for just a little bit!

It wasn't like they were little kids anymore and Yang couldn't get upset with Ruby because she was all that Ruby had. If Ruby was old enough to attend Beacon, then she was old enough to deal with the fact that her big sister didn't want to talk right now, wasn't ready to forgive her just yet.

"I wanted to tell you!" Ruby cried. "But Professor Ozpin made me promise not to say anything—"

Despite herself, Yang looked around over her shoulder at Ruby. "First of all, that didn't stop Sunset from telling me, and second of all, that's not the point! You don't even get why I'm upset, do you?"

Ruby walked towards her, until she was no longer standing behind Yang but beside her, looking down upon her seated sister. She played with her hands, lacing her fingers together and then unlacing them, clasping and unclasping them. "It … it's because I didn't tell you, isn't it?"

"About Salem and all the rest?" Yang asked. "No. No, that's not it. If that were all it was, if that were the only thing that you hadn't said, then … I wouldn't be happy about it; I wouldn't be happy that I had to hear it from Sunset Shimmer, but I wouldn't be mad about it either. I mean I wasn't mad. I've known for a while, and you never knew because … because it wasn't a big deal. I got it. You were told a secret, and you were asked not to share it … not even with me."

"Yang—"

"That's on Professor Ozpin, not you," Yang said quickly, before Ruby could say anything. "He's the one who didn't trust me, not you." She paused for a moment. "I'm mad about … everything else."

"About Mom," Ruby murmured.

"Yes, about Mom," Yang said. "It's bad enough that you went to talk to Professor Ozpin to get special details about her that we didn't know without me—"

"Professor Ozpin didn't know that—"

"I know that he didn't want me to know about Salem, but what does that have to do with Mom?" Yang demanded. "He could have told you that stuff about Mom getting almost mugged on her first night in Vale without mentioning Salem at all; I bet there's loads of stuff he could have told us both that didn't require me to know his secrets, and he could have talked around the secrets if he'd wanted to. And if he didn't think of that, you should have." She paused for a moment. "Do you think that she was just your mom?"

"What?" Ruby cried. "No! Why would you even ask me something like that?"

"Because of the way that you didn't think that I might want to hear about Mom, too?" Yang suggested sharply. "Because of the way that you didn't tell me anything that the professor told you, you didn't even tell me that you'd met with him? And do you know what the worst part is? I have listened to you complaining about exactly this from your team! How Sunset treats you like a kid, how Pyrrha doesn't trust you, how neither of them treat you like an equal, how the two of them get together and make decisions about you, for you, without telling you; I've listened to you talk about how much it sucks, and I agree, it does suck, but then, when you get the chance, you turn around and do the exact same thing to me! That's the part that really gets to me: you know how annoying this is, how much it hurts, but you did it anyway!"

Ruby was silent for a moment. She wasn't looking at Yang any more; if she couldn't meet Yang's eyes, then … then good. She shouldn't be able to meet Yang's eyes after what she'd done.

And yet, at the same time, Yang couldn't help but wonder if she'd been too harsh with Ruby here. After all, it wasn't … well, it was absolutely one hundred percent Ruby's fault, but at the same time … Professor Ozpin had put her in a difficult position.

But being put in a difficult position didn't mean that Ruby hadn't had a choice in the matter. She had. She could have fought for Yang; she could have remembered how it felt to be left in the dark and to have decisions made over your head.

She could have cared about her sister.

"I'm sorry," Ruby murmured.

"Sorry that you got caught?"

"No," Ruby insisted. "I'm sorry, I … I didn't think—"

"Didn't think what, that I'd want to know?" Yang demanded.

"I … I don't know. I'm just sorry," Ruby said, in a voice that was soft and quiet.

Yang was silent for a moment, and then for a moment more. She looked away from Ruby, her gaze once more rising to the green lights of the tower.

You sure know how to make our lives complicated, Professor.

"I'm sure you are," Yang murmured. "But I … I need some time to myself. I'm not ready to … goodnight, Ruby."

"You don't … you don't want to hear about Mom?" Ruby asked.

"Not right now," Yang said, a slight sigh in her voice. At some point — probably at the same point when she really and truly accepted Ruby's apology — she would tell Ruby about what Professor Goodwitch had had to share about Summer Rose, and in turn, Ruby could tell her what she had found out from Professor Ozpin.

But they weren't there yet. Yang wasn't there yet. She needed some time to … to be angry about this, because she had a right to be!

She was allowed to want some time for herself.

Nevertheless, the look on Ruby's face, the way she bowed her head, the way her lower lip trembled, all of the things that Yang could see out of the corner of her eye, nearly broke her, and it took an immense exercise of will to keep from saying anything, from calling out as Ruby turned away and walked away, disappearing through the doorway and into the dorm rooms.

Yang sighed and buried her head in her hands.

Yes, Mom, I know she's upset; I could see that for myself.

Yeah, I know I'm being just as bad as she is, but there's a difference, okay? The difference is that I'm going to tell her everything; I just don't feel like it right now.

Yes, that's a difference; she wouldn't have told me anything if Raven hadn't shown up.

No, I don't know when I'll tell her, but I will; I promise.

I wish I could have been your daughter.

But that was not to be. There was no changing who you were born to, no escaping it. Her mother, as much as she might wish it otherwise, as much as she might deny the fact, was not Summer Rose.

Her mother was Raven Branwen, the bandit.

Her mother was a killer, her mother was a thief, her mother took what she wanted and hurt — killed — anyone who got in her way. Her mother had come to Beacon to learn not how to defend people but how to get better at the whole 'kill anyone who gets in our way' part.

Her mother was a stain on the world, and Yang was her daughter.

Hers, not Summer Rose's. Ruby was Summer Rose's daughter; that was why she got to find out about her from Professor Ozpin, that was why she was allowed into the headmaster's confidence, the keeper of his secrets, his warrior in this secret war. While she, the bandit's daughter, was cast out, condemned to wait in the wings, to stand outside the circle of trust.

On the outside, looking in.

Looking in and wishing she were someone other than she was.

This is probably what I deserve, huh, Mom? It's what I get for wanting to know? I guess I should have been happy to have had a mother like you and not gone chasing after someone else I only knew from a picture?

I should have been happy to have had you, if only for a little bit.

"Hey, you okay?"

Yang looked up, blinking; Sun Wukong stood over her, smiling, but in a friendly way, not a 'how can you be so happy when I'm miserable, I hate the sight of you' jealousy-inducing kind of way.

"Sun?" Yang murmured. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know."

"No," Yang said. "No, I don't know."

Sun's grin became a tough raffish. "Well, that's the thing, neither do I."

Yang snorted. "So, you just ended up on the roof by … accident?"

"I just got these legs, you know?" Sun replied. "They've gotta keep moving, or else they seize up, and they might not work again."

"Really?" Yang asked. "You'd better not stand around here too long, in that case."

"You trying to get rid of me?" Sun asked. "Because, you know, if you want me to go, then I'll go, but if not…" He sat down beside her. "My legs can stay still for just a little bit." He folded his arms. "So, are you okay?"

"Yeah," Yang said. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Of course," Sun agreed. "Because people who are fine always sit alone on dark rooftops at night with their heads in their hands."

Yang looked at him. "Do people who are fine wander around said dark rooftops instead?"

"Almost certainly not," Sun conceded. "But then, I never claimed to be fine, did I?"

Yang chuckled. "No. No, you didn't." She paused. "You don't have to stick around if you've got somewhere to be."

"Yeah," Sun said. "I think I do."

Yang's eyebrows rose. "Why?"

"Because I don't think you're really fine," Sun said, in a conspiratorial whisper, as though this were some startling information that he had uncovered. "So I can't leave until you are. That's the Code of the Wukongs."

"'The Code of the Wukongs,'" Yang repeated.

"The Code of the Wukongs," Sun agreed. "Never let a girl cry, never let a buddy down."

Yang's lilac eyes narrowed. "How exactly does ditching your team and stowing away on a ship to Beacon count as not letting a buddy down?"

"Well, I knew that Scarlet really wanted to be team leader, so I got myself out of the way so that he could have a go."

"Is that right?" Yang muttered dryly. "How about the time you stowed away on that airship with Blake and the Atlesians, ditching your team again?"

Sun laughed nervously, a flush of colour rising to his dusky cheeks. "Well … love … doesn't always make us the best versions of ourselves."

Yang was silent for a moment. "Have you heard from Blake lately?"

"No," Sun said. "You?"

Yang shook her head. "Really? You've not heard anything?"

"Nuh-uh," Sun replied. "Means that she must be having a great time, I guess; such a great time that she doesn't have time to call."

"Or write or do anything," Yang replied. "You ought to call her out on it when she gets back."

"Why?"

"Because … because she's taking you for granted," Yang declared. "You're not a dog; she just can't leave you here and go waltz off to another kingdom and expect you to be waiting here when she gets back."

"But I will be waiting here when she gets back."

"That doesn't mean that she can expect it," Yang insisted. "She owes you a scroll call, at least."

Sun shook his head. "Blake doesn't owe me anything," he said. "Any time that I get to spend with her, I'm so lucky. Winning the lottery the first time you buy a ticket lucky. Blake … she's like no one else in the world. When I'm with her … when I'm with her, I don't want to move. When I'm with her, my feet don't itch. Vacuans aren't meant to put down roots, but when I'm with her … because she's the one." He paused for a second. "But she…"

Yang waited for him to finish. "But she what?"

Sun smiled. "It doesn't matter," he said. "Especially since I think you're stalling."

"I'm not stalling," Yang said.

"Yeah, you are," Sun informed her. "Come on, why are you up here all alone in the middle of the night?"

Yang hesitated for a moment. It would be good to tell someone.

Which is why it's such a pity that I can't tell anyone.

That's why Ruby thought she couldn't tell me anything about Mom.

So … talk around it?

Yeah. That … that might be nice.

Yang sighed, her chest rising and falling. "Can you keep a secret?"

Sun nodded, the smile fading from his face and leaving only an earnest expression behind.

"That's good to know," Yang said. She grinned. "Unfortunately for you, so can I." She paused for a moment. "What would you do if you knew a secret that you couldn't tell?"

"I'd tell Neptune."

"Did you maybe miss the part where I said you 'couldn't tell'?"

"No, I heard that, that's why I wouldn't tell Scarlet or Sage or anyone else," Sun said. "But I'd have to tell Neptune."

"What if you couldn't?" Yang asked. "What if you really, absolutely couldn't, because…"

"Because what?" Sun pressed.

"Honestly … I don't know," Yang replied. "Well, no, that's not quite true, I do know; I just … I don't know how to tell you without—"

"Telling me the secret that you know?" Sun suggested.

"Something like that, yeah," Yang muttered. "What would you do if you found out that the world wasn't quite what you thought it was? What if the things that you thought you knew, the things that you took for granted … they were slightly skewed, they didn't look the way they'd seemed before."

Sun was quiet for a moment. "Then … I guess I'd deal with it."

"Just like that?"

Sun shrugged. "What else am I going to do? If that's the way things are, then I can't change them back to the way I thought they were, right?"

Yang chuckled. "Well, I … I guess not," she admitted. "Doesn't always mean it's that easy though. I had a fight with Ruby."

"Because of this secret that you can't tell."

"Because Ruby knew first, and she didn't tell me," Yang said. "I guess she doesn't like me as much as you like Neptune."

"Well, when I said that I would tell Neptune," Sun said, "what I meant was that I would think about telling Neptune, whereas I would never think about telling Sage or Scarlet, not that I would always, without fail, tell Neptune. I mean, there are things that I wouldn't tell Neptune, and there are things that Neptune wouldn't tell me; I'd just think about telling him, just like I'm sure that Ruby thought about telling you—"

"Has anyone ever told you that you babble a little bit when you're under pressure?" asked Yang.

Sun blinked. "No."

"You babble when you're under pressure," Yang told him. "You don't need to make excuses for Ruby. I … I get why she didn't tell me."

"But you had a fight with her anyway?"

Yang was silent for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "Ruby and I … we're only half-sisters. Same dad, different moms."

Sun nodded. "I guess that explains the names. So … did your mom die—"

"Ruby's mom died," Yang said. "My mom walked out on her family when I was just a baby. I didn't even realise that Ruby's mom wasn't also my mom until … until she was gone." She hesitated. "Can you keep a secret?"

"I didn't think you were going to give me the chance to prove it," Sun said.

"This is one of those things that I think I can tell you," Yang said. "But I'd rather that you only thought about telling Neptune. I don't want to get anyone into trouble."

"Hey, 'never let a girl cry, never let a buddy down,' remember?" Sun reminded her. "The Code of the Wukongs."

"How many Wukongs actually follow this code?" Yang asked.

"Oh, all the Wukongs do," Sun assured her. "That's easy, because I'm the only one there is."

"Really?" Yang asked. "You … you don't … your family, were they-?"

"No," Sun told her. "Or at least, maybe they were, but I don't remember it. Vacuans don't do families."

"Everyone does families."

"Not Vacuans," Sun insisted. "They only slow you down."

"If you got rid of everything that slowed you down, then you'd have nothing worth living for," Yang replied. "Besides, if families slow you down, then what do girls who drive you so crazy that you have to stow away aboard Atlesian airships do?"

Sun chuckled and scratched the back of his head with one head. "Well … listen, I never said that I was the perfect Vacuan; I just know that we don't believe in settling down in any one place, we don't believe in getting too attached to places or people, and … and I don't remember my parents. I don't remember any family, really. I've got a cousin who works as a mechanic, I think, but we don't talk much. Or at all. Other than that … I've got no strings to hold me down. Except Neptune, I guess, and Blake."

"Part of me thinks that you're lucky," Yang said. "The other part of me wants to give you a hug and tell you how sorry I am. Having no family … I can't imagine what that's like." She took a moment before she went on. "Sunset stole mom's diary — Ruby's mom's diary — from the Beacon archives. She stole it, and she gave it to Ruby. And Ruby read it with me, because…"

"Because she was your mom, too," Sun said softly.

"Something like that, even though she wasn't," Yang replied. "Only now … I found out that Ruby had gone to see Professor Ozpin and gotten first-hand stories about her mother, about what she was like, what she went through here at Beacon. And she didn't even tell me! She didn't tell me the stories; she didn't even tell me she was having the meeting. Because I wasn't supposed to know the big secret. Because I can't be trusted. Because my mom…"

Sun waited for a few seconds. "Because your mom what?"

Yang glanced at him. "If Vacuans don't do families, then what do they think about defining people by their parents?"

Sun snorted. "That's just dumb. Neptune's family are all champion swimmers, but Neptune…"

"Neptune what?"

Sun laughed nervously. "Let's just say that that's a secret he'd want me to think before I shared it with anyone else, and that judging people by what their parents did or were like is moronic, okay?"

Yang hesitated. It was easy to say something like that; it might not be so easy to maintain that frame of mind once you actually had the necessary context. Still, it would be good to tell someone. "My mom is a bandit."

Sun's expression didn't alter. "You're not talking about the good kind, are you?"

"No," Yang said softly. "I'm talking about the very, very bad kind." She closed her eyes for a moment. "I love my Dad," she said, "with his bad jokes and his experimental recipes. But when I was a kid … there were times when I wished my name was Rose, not Xiao Long, because that would mean that I was Summer Rose's daughter, just like Ruby. I still wish my name was Rose."

Sun was silent for a moment, staring at her without saying anything. "What was she like?"

"Who?"

"Summer Rose," Sun clarified. "What was she like?"

"I don't know," Yang said. "I'm not allowed to know."

"What do you remember?" Sun asked.

"I remember … I remember that she used to always have this smell, like—"

"Roses?" Sun guessed.

"Sunflowers," Yang corrected him. "Like the sunflowers that grow around our house." Maybe that was why Dad had started planting them; she didn't remember them being there until after Mom had gone. "When we would play hide and seek, I could always tell when she was getting warm because I could smell her coming. It would come in with her, like perfume, but … nicer. I remember this one time, I … I couldn't go to sleep. I don't remember why not; I just remember that I couldn't get to sleep, and she wasn't around. Maybe I couldn't get to sleep because she wasn't around, I don't remember, but the point is … Dad couldn't get me to sleep, and eventually, he gave up trying and let me stay up with him to wait for Mom, for Summer. And she comes in, about midnight, with this wound on her arm, and the first thing that she said, before anything else, she looked at me and said, 'Isn't it past your bedtime, young lady?'" Yang grinned. "Still, she let me stay up … or I don't suppose she had much choice, since I wanted her to put me to bed, and she couldn't do that with a bleeding arm, so she had to let me stay up until Dad had tended to her injury. Eventually, as she was tucking me in, I asked why she had to go away like that, and she kissed me on the forehead and she said, 'For all the other little girls who might not have a mommy to tuck them in if I don't.'"

She paused. "When I, when we were little, Ruby and me, I used to make up stories about her. I used to tell Ruby these stories about Summer Rose, the great hero with a shining sword, the fearless monster slayer. They weren't true. I don't remember anything about what she did as a huntress; if she ever talked to me about it, I've forgotten. But I knew what she did, I remember that much; I knew what she did, and I thought it was the coolest thing ever, even if I did sometimes want to wait up for her for when she got back from her missions."

Until one night when she didn't come back. Yang didn't think about that; it wasn't the kind of thing that she wanted to remember. "I remember," she went on, "how she used to experiment with her cookies. It was like … it was like they were new to her, and she was pushing the boundaries of how far she could take them." She paused. "I mean, apparently, she did grow up outside the kingdoms and didn't arrive in Vale until she started at Beacon, so that might actually be exactly what it was. Anyway, she could make the basic cookie flavours: chocolate, double chocolate, triple chocolate … chocolate and orange, I guess. And she could put the usual extras in like cinnamon or cardamon or … other things ending in 'mon.' But she would also come up with these weird ones like … pineapple cookies, bright green — and I'm talking really bright, like neon — lime cookies, cookies stuffed with ice cream in the middle, peaches and cream cookies. Some of them were really great, and I wish that I knew where she'd left the recipes for them because I've tried a hundred times since she left to replicate them myself, and they never work out the way I remember hers tasting. Some of them … didn't quite work out so well, but … we always used to eat them right up because … because they were made with love."

Sun smiled softly. "I admit that I'm not the best judge, but … that all sounds pretty much like a Mom to me."

"Sounds like a family, anyway," Nora said.

Yang looked around, to see Nora and Ren standing in the doorway. Ren was lounging against the doorframe, while Nora stood just in front of him with her arms folded.

"How long have you two been here?" Yang asked.

"A little while," Nora admitted. "We came to look for you, but we didn't want to interrupt."

"Ruby seems … a little upset about something," Ren added.

Yang winced. "Yeah, I … I'm a little upset with her too, honestly. Ruby … Ruby was keeping things from me."

"Things to do with your Mom?" Nora asked.

Yang shook her head. "To do with her Mom."

"Who just so happened to do everything for you that a mother is supposed to do," Sun pointed out. "Come on, Yang, if she wasn't your mom, then who was she?"

Yang smiled sadly. "I wish I could believe that."

"Then believe it!" Sun cried. "That's what's cool about belief; nobody can say you're wrong. If they try, you just say 'that's what I choose to believe.'"

"But my mom isn't…" Yang paused for a moment. "She didn't give birth to me. My mother isn't the one who baked me cookies or tucked me in at night; my mother is the one who abandoned me—"

"So did mine," Nora said quietly.

Yang turned to her once more. "R-really?" she asked. "You never … I guess I always thought that—"

"Well, she might as well have," Nora declared as she walked forwards, Ren trailing a step or two behind her. "When the grimm attacked, she left me behind and never looked back. Kinda amazing that I survived really, but then, I guess I am kinda amazing in so many ways." She grinned, although she couldn't keep the smile on her face for very long. "The point is … if being left behind by my own mother taught me anything, if my life has taught me anything, it's that family isn't the person who happens to give birth to you." She reached out one hand, and Ren silently slipped his fingers into her palm. "It's the people who love you." With her free hand, Nora reached out and gently touched Yang's shoulder.

"But her blood is in me," Yang murmured. "Not the blood of a hero, but a—"

"A bandit?" Nora asked. "Yeah, we heard that too. But so what? You think that means you're going to turn to a life of crime because of whose blood flows in your veins? Do you think I'm automatically going to ditch the people I care about because my mother ditched me?"

"Bandits are amongst the most despicable people in all of Remnant," Ren said sternly. "I have no words strong enough to condemn them and the way that they ruin and destroy lives and put even those victims they do not kill at risk from the creatures of grimm." He looked into Yang's eyes. "But that is not the kind of person you are, and no amount of revelations about your birth family can change that."

Yang looked from Sun, back to Ren and Nora. "Thanks, guys," she said softly.

The four of them sat in silence for a little while as the moon shone down upon them.

Yang turned her eyes once more towards the gleaming green lights of the Emerald Tower, but then her gaze rose further up, towards the heavens, towards the stars that stood guard all around the moon.

"They're pretty nice tonight, aren't they?" Yang asked. "The stars, I mean."

"Yeah," Nora agreed, "yeah, they are."

And so they sat, and so they watched, and so they said little or nothing at all, as the moon and stars kept them company.

XxXxX​

Ruby trudged across the dorm room. It was empty, of course, and it would be empty until Sunset, Jaune, and Pyrrha got back.

The dorm room was empty, and Yang didn't want to talk to her.

As she sunk down onto her bed, Ruby was aware that possibly she could have handled this better. But that didn't mean it was her fault! If she'd insisted on Yang being there, then Professor Ozpin might have changed his mind — after all, he'd promised that they would talk about Mom, not that the three of them would — and then none of them would have learned anything!

But maybe I should have told her before I told Sunset.

I would have … probably.

What am I supposed to do to fix this?

In the utter absence of anyone to talk to in the dorm room, Ruby got out her scroll and called someone who might know about fighting with her older sibling.

She waited a few moments as the call went through, before the face of Juturna Rutulus appeared on the other end of the device. Her hair was a lot messier than it usually was — she had full on bedhead, bits of hair sticking out all over the place, drooping everywhere — and she wasn't wearing any makeup either.

And she was wearing pyjamas: purple pyjamas that didn't quite fit her any more and had a cartoon tiger on the front.

Oh, yeah, right; time difference.

"Ruby," Juturna said, with a leonine yawn. "What time is it where you are? It's first thing in the morning here."

"It's … the middle of the night," Ruby said. "Sorry, I can't sleep right now."

"Eh, it's not like you woke me up or anything," Juturna said, although the fact that she then yawned again suggested that she hadn't had a completely restful night.

"You okay?" Ruby asked.

Juturna laughed. "You're the one who rang me, and you're asking if I'm okay?"

"You seem tired," Ruby pointed out.

"I'm not tired, I just…" Juturna paused for some more yawning. "Okay, yes, I am a little bit tired, but only because we went to the premiere of Jewel of Menagerie last night, and we didn't get home until late."

"Was it any good?"

"It was pretty good fun, yeah," Juturna said. "Boulder movies are always pretty good fun." She sighed. "I tried to chat up one of the cute younger actors, but they're all scared of my brother."

Ruby chuckled. "Would he have a problem with it?"

Juturna sat down on her bed. "If they had enough money, it might be enough to help him get over the fact that they're still just actors, but nobody wants to be the one to try it and find out." She paused. "Anyway, you're the one who called me, which means that you're the one having issues, so: 'sup?"

"Well, it's actually kind of about … that, sort of," Ruby said. "Do you ever fight with your brother?"

Juturna blinked. "What kind of a question is that?"

"Come on, just answer," Ruby said. "Please."

"Okay, the answer is no."

"No?" Ruby repeated. "Really?"

"Yeah," Juturna said. "We don't fight."

"Not ever?"

"Okay, maybe not 'never,'" Juturna said. "But not often. Turnus doesn't get mad at me because … well, we don't get mad at each other because we don't do anything for the other to get mad about."

"What about the way that you can't find a boyfriend because everyone is scared of him?" Ruby asked.

Juturna laughed. "Ruby, just because some actors are more chicken in real life than the characters they play … I could get a boyfriend, if I wanted one. Yeah, Turnus would have to approve of the guy — and so would Camilla as well, for different reasons — but only because … look, I'm Turnus' little sister, and he cares about me, and until he has any kids — which might not happen if he can't get over himself and accept that Pyrrha's gone — then I'm his heir. He wants to make sure that the family money and land and the company isn't going to some jackass who isn't going to know what to do with it, and he wants to make sure that I find someone who's going to treat me right, and if he does have kids — and I really hope he will, because I really want to be someone's cool aunt — then I won't inherit anything so he wants to make sure that I'll be taken care of. It's a lot to think about, and … well, I'd rather he thought about it than he didn't care, you get me?"

That seemed like an awful lot to think about, to Ruby; she wondered if poor people who could just date whoever they liked were better off without having to consider such a list of … considerations.

Then again, Pyrrha seems to manage okay.

"Ruby," Juturna said, "what's this about?"

Ruby sighed. "I'm having a fight with Yang. I guess I was hoping for some advice."

"Hmm," Juturna said. "Are you mad, or is she mad?"

"Yang's mad," Ruby supplied.

Juturna nodded. "Well, on the rare occasion when Turnus does get mad at me, I find the best thing to do is beg forgiveness."

"Why?"

"Because he never makes me beg very long," Juturna explained. "Neither of them do, so once I apologise, they forgive me, we hug it out, and then everything's back to normal."

That sounded a little disingenuous. "Do you mean it?" Ruby asked. "Your apology, I mean."

"Yeah!" Juturna insisted. "I may be lazy and aimless and kind of stupid, but I would never intentionally get my family or Rutulian Security into any trouble, and the only reason why Turnus would ever get mad at me is if I caused or risked some kind of trouble, so I apologise and say I didn't mean it, which I didn't."

"What if it isn't your fault?"

"It's always my fault," Juturna said. "Like I said, Turnus wouldn't get mad at me if it wasn't." Her eyebrows rose. "So, what did you do?"

"How do you know I did anything?" Ruby demanded.

Juturna smiled knowingly. "Okay, what is your sister mad at you about?"

Ruby hesitated for a moment.

"Come on!" Juturna urged. "Spill it!"

Ruby took a deep breath and let out an equally deep sigh. "I found out some stuff about our mom, stuff about her past, stuff that we didn't know. And I kept it to myself, and I didn't tell her about it."

Juturna was silent for a moment. "Yeah, Ruby, I won't lie to you, that sounds terrible, and you should totally apologise."

"You think so?"

"Yeah, that's pretty bad," Juturna said. "You knew she wanted to know, right?"

"I … yeah, yeah I did," Ruby murmured.

"Yeah," Juturna said, drawing out the word. "Your sister's got a right to be mad at you."

In general, moral disapproval bites more fiercely when coming from the morally upstanding, but there is a certain edge that occasionally comes from being judged by the … okay, Juturna wasn't a bad person, but, like, Ruby was pretty sure that she was, as a general rule, a kinder and more considerate person than Juturna was. That made the fact that Juturna now possessed the moral high ground and was using it to look down on Ruby a particularly uncomfortable experience.

"Any tips for how I should say sorry?" Ruby asked. "I've already tried just saying sorry. It didn't take."

Juturna winced. "Give it some time, maybe. I don't know. Like I said, Turnus is very quick to forgive me; they both are. I guess I'm really lucky that way."

"Yeah," Ruby said, a slight smile upon her face. "Yeah, you really are."

"Sorry I can't be of much help," Juturna said. "Oh! But hey, while you're there, there's something that I wanted to tell you: Turnus is coming to Vale in a few days, and he wants to meet you."

"What?" Ruby asked. "Your brother's coming here? Why? It's not something to do with Pyrrha, is it?"

"No, it's nothing like that; it's work," Juturna said. "Have you heard of the Heart of Mistral?"

"Sounds a bit like one of Pyrrha's nicknames," Ruby said.

Juturna laughed. "Yeah, I guess it does, doesn't it?" she replied. "But no, it's a ruby; it's a really big, supposedly really beautiful ruby that they mined out from the mountain in the really old days. It belonged to the Emperor until he gave it away to his daughter on her wedding day. One of her descendants was wearing it when he was killed during the war, and one of you Valish took it off his body, and it's been in your museums ever since. Only now, Vale has agreed to give it back — I think they're getting a discount on the cost of those battleships you're buying off us — and Lord Kiro has hired Rutulian Security to protect him while he goes and gets it. So, Turnus is going to be in Vale, and he wants to meet you."

"Why?"

"Because we're friends," Juturna said. "And Turnus likes to get to know my friends."

"And scare them?"

Juturna grinned. "Come on, Ruby, you're a badass huntress; I'm sure you can handle it. Shall I tell him that you're looking forward to it? Come on, what's the harm in letting him take you to dinner?"

"Well … Pyrrha—"

"He is not going to say anything about Pyrrha or try to get you to do anything or … anything like that," Juturna promised. "Turnus isn't perfect, but on the whole, he's a really great guy, and he wouldn't do something like that. I promise."

"Okay," Ruby said. "In that case, sure. I'd love to meet him. I really would. I mean, you obviously think a lot of him. Yeah, tell him that I'm looking forward to it."

Although I'm not sure Jaune and Pyrrha will be when they find out about it.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Back at Beacon

​

"I wish your home got more visitors," Sunset grumbled as the train rattled along on its way back to Vale.

Jaune frowned. "Why?"

"Because if it did, someone might invest in some upgrades to this rail line," Sunset said sharply.

Kendal Arc chuckled. "One of my first assignments, I got a train to Alexandria, then I had to set off on foot from there to survey my target area. Anyway, the point is that when I got on that train … I was amazed. I couldn't believe it. Electric doors, computerized seat reservations … I think, for me, that was what I understand going to Atlas is like for normal people."

Sunset smirked a little as her eyebrows rose. "So, Jaune, you actually had a pretty restrained reaction to the wonders of the modern world, then?"

"I was impressed by the trains!" Kendal declared. "That doesn't make some kind of hayseed."

Sunset, Jaune, Pyrrha, and Kendal were all sat together around a table in one of the train compartments that was bearing them back to Vale and — in the case of Sunset, Jaune, and Pyrrha at least — Beacon. The train rattled along, quite literally, jolting a little as it went, occasionally feeling as though it bumped over something.

The sooner they arrived and they could get off this deathtrap, the happier Sunset would be.

"Kendal," Pyrrha said, "may I ask you something?"

Kendal shrugged. "Shoot."

"Why did you choose to become a surveyor?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I suppose I'm just curious," Pyrrha said. "I know why Jaune wanted to become a huntsman, but … as I say, it's simple curiosity; you don't have to tell me."

"It's not like it's a big secret," Kendal declared. "I just … wanted to help, really. I was always good at tracking, at map reading, I can move through the woods better than pretty much anyone in town; I like the outdoors, I like walking, and I thought, well, there must be a way that I can do all of that and do some good at the same time. Me, Jaune, even Sky … we've all found some way to help that plays to our strengths."

"Indeed," Pyrrha replied. She smiled. "I hope that, once we've graduated, we can work together in some way."

"I'd like that," Kendal agreed. She grinned. "Just promise that you won't get distracted by having a lovey-dovey moment and let me get eaten by a beowolf."

Pyrrha's cheeks reddened. "We would, of course, be thoroughly professional at all times," she said.

"I'm sure, I'm sure," Kendal assured her. "So, what's on the agenda for you three when you get back?"

"Jaune needs to get down and think about his new weapon," Sunset declared. While I need to find out what Crown D'Eath found. She had some ideas on that score already: Carrot Arc's journal said that Crown had been spending a lot of time in the library, so if Sunset could find out what books he'd been looking at, then she, reading the same things that he had read, could hopefully reach the same conclusions, for good or ill.

Hopefully for good; it would give her something to pass on to Lady Nikos. If not…

Back to plan 'Make Something Up' I suppose.

At that moment, a scroll went off.

Sunset put her hand to her jacket pocket. Her scroll was still and silent. "Not mine," she said.

"No, it's mine," Pyrrha said. She was back in her combat outfit for the journey back to Beacon, and she took the scroll from out of one of the pouches upon her belt. "It's Mother."

What does she want? Sunset thought, recognizing the thought and the accompanying feelings of weariness, wariness, and annoyance as ultimately belonging to Pyrrha, not to herself.

I wonder if Pyrrha can teach me how to eliminate these ghastly side-effects, Sunset thought. It would be a fine thing if she were to let Pyrrha's hostility show and her benefactor should think her ungrateful or impertinent in any way.

She was not Pyrrha, after all; she was not afforded such leeway. She would have to keep her opinions — Pyrrha's opinions — to herself.

Pyrrha answered the scroll. "Good afternoon, Mother."

"Good morning, Pyrrha," Lady Nikos said in answer. "You appear to be moving."

"I'm on a train home from Alba Longa, Mother," Pyrrha said. "With Jaune and Sunset and Kendal Arc, one of Jaune's sisters."

"Good afternoon, my lady," Sunset called out.

Jaune leaned a little closer to Pyrrha so that his face would be visible in the scroll. "Hello, ma— my lady."

"Miss Shimmer, Mister Arc," Lady Nikos said. "And good day to you, unseen Miss Arc. I confess I do not know this Alba Longa of which you speak."

"I don't suppose you would have heard of it, my lady; it's a very small town," Jaune explained. "It's where I grew up."

"Ah, that explains a great deal," Lady Nikos said. "Miss Shimmer, have you learned anything of note?"

Pyrrha turned her scroll around, so that Sunset could see the face of Lady Nikos looking out at her, and Lady Nikos could see her in turn.

"I am … on the trail, my lady," Sunset replied. "I require more time."

"'More time'?" Lady Nikos asked. "You have had time already."

"I have had time, my lady; what I have not had previously is time to devote to this," Sunset explained. "If my lady will indulge me … I confess I have nothing concrete as yet to offer you, but I feel that I am closing in on something."

"Is that so?" Lady Nikos asked. "And on what, if I may ask, do you base this optimism?"

"I have a name, my lady," Sunset said. "Crown D'Eath, a man who, like myself, delved into the history of the Arc family, and although I know not what he found, I do know that what he found caused him great excitement." And great alarm in the then Arc, but let's not mention that. "If I can discover what he did, I have every confidence that it will be to my lady's liking."

Lady Nikos was silent for a moment. "Very well; I suppose I have little to lose and much to gain. In any event, it is no longer the most urgent matter on my mind."

"I imagine there must be many matters of weight and importance upon my lady's mind at any one time," Sunset observed.

"But this is particularly urgent, else I would not have called," Lady Nikos said. "Pyrrha, I take it that — immured as you have been in a small town — you are not yet aware of the news."

Pyrrha reversed her scroll again, so that once more, she was looking at her mother, whose face had disappeared from Sunset's sight.

"News?" Pyrrha asked. "No, Mother, I have heard nothing."

"The Daily Remnant libels you," Lady Nikos declared. "I have already instructed a lawyer to sue that odious rag into the ground, but I fear that the proceedings will take some time, and in that time, their lies will spread like wildfire."

Sunset and Jaune both got out their scrolls at the same time. Sunset opened up her device and began to tap tap on the touch screen, typing the words 'Daily Remnant' into the search engine. It wasn't a name she was familiar with, and judging by Lady Nikos' description of it as a rag, it didn't seem to be a particularly notable publication.

"I don't understand," Pyrrha said. "All manner of untruths get printed about me all the time; you've never gone to law over it before."

"You will see the difference when, if I am hearing right, Miss Shimmer and Mister Arc discover what it is that has been said about you now.

Sunset's search had brought back a whole host of results. She typed 'Daily Remnant Pyrrha Nikos' into the search engine to narrow it down.

"What?" Jaune cried. "Are they serious?"

"If they are not serious, then more fool them; I will see them bankrupted regardless," Lady Nikos growled.

Sunset's eyes widened.

This … this is…

This is my fault.

"What is it?" Kendal asked, leaning over to look at Sunset's scroll.

"Jaune?" Pyrrha asked, prompting Jaune to press his scroll against hers so that she could read what was being said and see her mother at the same time.

The headline read Pyrrha Nikos: The Champion of Evil? The subheading continued in that vein, posturing Could Mistral's favourite daughter be in league with the enemies of humanity?

Below there was a picture of Pyrrha, with her back to the camera, her red sash turning into a trail of blood snaking behind her towards the readership.

"What are they talking about?" Kendal murmured.

Sunset skimmed over the article itself. She closed her eyes. "Cinder," she murmured.

"Miss Shimmer?" Lady Nikos asked.

Sunset remained with her eyes closed, her elbows resting upon the table, her head bowed slightly. After a moment, she lowered her own scroll and gestured with her fingers for Pyrrha to flip hers so that she could talk to Lady Nikos again.

Pyrrha did so. The face of Lady Nikos seemed especially hard now, the lines deeper, her features sharper.

Whether that was the lingering effects of contact with Pyrrha upon her or Sunset's own guilt, she did not know.

"My lady," she said, "I am sorry to have besmirched your daughter's reputation so."

Lady Nikos' eyebrows rose. "Is there any truth to this, Miss Shimmer?"

Sunset licked her lips. "When Cinder Fall was here — at Beacon, disguised as a student — we were friends, my lady, although she and Pyrrha were not."

"Far from it," Pyrrha murmured.

"And after?" Lady Nikos asked.

Sunset glanced at Pyrrha, whose mouth had seemed to shrink as it set into disapproval.

"Cinder … my lady, what I could tell is information I fear that cannot be revealed to you."

"I beg your pardon, Miss Shimmer?"

"There are things that are known only to the members of Teams Sapphire and Rosepetal, Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood," Sunset said. "I trust Team Rosepetal, as I would hope that you trust all the members of Team Sapphire, and as for Professor Ozpin and General Ironwood … I would hope they would have more dignity than to go selling stories to the gutter press. What I will say, my lady, is that … is that Pyrrha considers Cinder Fall to be naught but our enemy, and I…"

I hold her responsible for my misdeeds.

"And I do likewise," Sunset said.

Lady Nikos nodded. "Then it seems that there is little more to discuss upon the matter, and nothing to apologise for on your part, Miss Shimmer. I cannot say that I like the fact that there are details of which I must remain ignorant, but … I suppose it is an inevitable consequence of your service. In any case, I did not call in order to blame you, Miss Shimmer, but to put Pyrrha on her guard. Although it would do no harm if you were to remain on your guard also."

"Is there anything that we can do, Mother?" Pyrrha asked, turning her scroll around once more.

"I fear not," Lady Nikos said. "It may be that the threat of legal action will induce a retraction. If not, then it will move to the courts, but that may, as I have said, take time, and even when you win — I have, of course, had to threaten suit under your name, but rest assured, I will ensure that your education is not disrupted with court appearances — there is the unfortunate fact that people will remember what was written."

"But no one will believe it," Jaune said. "I mean it … it's ridiculous!"

"Indeed, Mister Arc, and I have hope that the great mass of the people of Mistral will see this nonsense for what it is," Lady Nikos replied. "However—"

"There are some who, if they do not believe it, will affect to do so merely so that they may delight in seeing me brought low," Pyrrha murmured.

"It will take more than this to bring you low," Sunset said.

"Well, yes, I suppose it will," Pyrrha said, her voice almost as soft as it had been before. "But my point is … some will either believe it or pretend to do so." She frowned. "Mother, if I have damaged the reputation of our house—"

"The reputation of our house has survived bad emperors who dealt with every obstacle with a mixture of violence and treachery; I daresay it can survive muck-raking journalism," Lady Nikos said. "It was … your reputation with which I was more concerned. I am sorry that this has befallen you."

"Thank you, Mother," Pyrrha said. "For the warning and for your sympathies."

"Good day then," Lady Nikos said. "Good day to all of you, and good fortune."

Pyrrha folded her scroll up.

"She didn't ask how your visit went," Kendal pointed out.

"No, she didn't," Pyrrha murmured. "I wouldn't have expected her to, under any circumstances."

"Right, because she doesn't approve," Kendal said. She hesitated for a moment, mouth open, no words emerging. "Cinder Fall … is she the one you fought?"

Pyrrha looked at her. "What makes you ask that?"

"Something about your face," Kendal replied. "Your expression when you talked about her."

Pyrrha sighed, her chest rising and falling. "Yes. Yes, she is the one."

Kendal winced. "This must be especially galling then."

"Somewhat," Pyrrha said mildly.

"So … what are you going to do?"

"I … I am not sure, not yet," Pyrrha said. "I require a little time to think upon a solution."

"Could you not even try and find out where they came from?" Kendal asked. "I mean, somebody wrote this story; I find it hard to imagine anyone just deciding to sit down and write out a pack of lies — and then someone else decided to publish it — for no reason."

"People knew that Cinder and I were close; we didn't hide it," Sunset said. "Although whether any of them would have connections to the Mistralian press is less certain. In any case, we have other things to do rather than trying to find the source of this story. Jaune needs to design a weapon, I need to … well, for either Pyrrha or myself, hunting after tattletales isn't likely to prove anything."

Any sort of revenge would hardly scream innocence, after all.

Although, speaking of revenge … Bon Bon might see this as turnaround being fair play after the way that Sunset had treated her and Cardin.

Cardin she did not suspect, but Bon Bon … she had cause to hate Sunset, and to at least some extent, she did hate Sunset, at least enough to knock one of her teeth out.

Yet, if Sunset found out that she had done it … then what? What could Sunset do about it? What would Sunset do about it?

I … I would do nothing. I would not make any further trouble for Pyrrha or her reputation.

And Bon Bon … Bon Bon has a right to her wrath, for all that she has aimed at the wrong target.

"I don't envy you," Kendal said. "Are you going to be okay, Jaune?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Jaune assured her. "By the sounds of it, it isn't me that they're going after." He put his scroll away, and thereafter put his hands around Pyrrha's shoulders. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I have little choice," Pyrrha said, turning her face towards him. "And I trust, I hope, that most people will see this for what it is: nothing but a pack of lies."

They arrived back in Vale not long after, having survived the journey on this rickety old train to pull in at Gateway Station. The train shuddered and groaned and sounded as if it was about to have a heart attack, keel over, and die on the verge of the finish line, but it managed to make it all the way in, and when it came to a stop, it did at least seem as though it had stopped voluntarily and not because the engine had given out.

"It doesn't look as though we have a reception committee," Sunset said as she looked out of the window.

"Well, we didn't even tell Ruby that we were coming back," Pyrrha pointed out. "How would anyone know that we were on this train?"

"That's a good point," Sunset allowed. "And for that reason, I think we should hold off on calling Ruby until we're at the airship back to Beacon." She reached her arm out of the window and tried to open the door.

It was stuck again.

Sunset huffed. "I hate that you live on this railway line," she told Jaune.

"Here, let me," Pyrrha said, raising her hand towards the door.

There was a click, and the handle turned in Sunset's hand, and the door swung open.

"Neat trick," Kendal said. "I don't understand it, but it's a neat trick all the same."

"It's my semblance," Pyrrha explained. "Although I'd be grateful if you didn't spread the word around; I like to keep it a secret."

"Well, if it's a secret, then it's safe with me," Kendal said with a smile on her face.

They all dismounted from the train, now that the door was open, carrying their bags and cases down with them. They moved the platform exit, clearing a space for the impatient people waiting on the platform to pile onto the rickety old train, although if they actually got anywhere, it would be a miracle in Sunset's opinion.

They exited the platform onto the main station concourse, standing under a great glass skylight some fifty feet or more above their heads, letting in the sunlight to shine brightly and a little warmly down upon them. Before them stood a great crowd of people, their eyes fixed upon the electronic board denoting the departures of the various trains — what platform they had been assigned, was it ready to board. It was like watching birds, a great flock of birds whose heads turned almost as one, looking first to the left and then to the right, moving along to scan each train upon the board in turn. Every so often, a platform would be announced, and a part of the flock would break off and move in a great flood, as if driven by a single mind, towards the platform.

Shops — newsagents, fast food outlets, cake shops, bookshops — surrounded them; some were more like stalls, with queues of people snaking backwards from the counter; others were more conventional, and Sunset could see men and women darting in and out the doors.

Kendal put down her hold-all bag. "Headquarters is the other way from the Skydock, so I think this is goodbye." She held out her hand to Sunset. "It was nice to meet you, Sunset Shimmer, if only briefly."

Sunset took her hand, shaking it quickly. "Nice to meet you too."

Kendal nodded. "And it was … it was definitely nice to meet you, Pyrrha."

For a moment, it looked as though she was going to hold out her hand to Pyrrha, but in the end, she lunged for her instead, wrapping her arms around Pyrrha's neck for all that she had to stand on her tiptoes in order to manage.

After a moment, Kendal held out one arm, gesturing with her hand. "Come here, Jaune."

Jaune grinned as he stepped forward, allowing Kendal to wrap her arm around him and pull him inwards. Jaune put one arm around Kendal in turn, and Pyrrha did likewise, their two hands meeting upon Kendal's back.

"You take care," Kendal said. "You take care of … of one another, okay? Don't lose each other."

"We will," Jaune promised.

"Always," Pyrrha added.

Kendal was smiling as she released them, but the fact that she looked as though her eyes were about to start watering could not but lend that smile a sad and melancholy aspect.

"Yeah," she said. "Yeah, you will. You'd better."

"And you take care too, out there," Jaune added.

Kendal picked up her bag. "I'll be fine, Jaune," she said. "I get to run away from danger." She turned away and set off on her own journey, in her own direction. When she had taken about a half dozen steps, she turned back with a wave, calling out to them, "And good luck in the Vytal Festival!"

XxXxX​

Ruby was waiting for them at the docking pad as the Skybus landed at Beacon. So, too, was Arslan. Ruby was smiling, but Arslan's expression was grim, and Pyrrha thought she could guess why.

Ruby waved to them as they stepped out of the Skybus. "Hey guys!" she cried. "Did you have a good trip?"

"It was very lovely, thank you for asking," Pyrrha said as she walked towards the two of them.

"Apart from the way that Jaune's brother-in-law tried to make it look like Pyrrha was cheating on Jaune," Sunset said.

"What?!" Ruby exclaimed.

"Sunset," Pyrrha said reproachfully, "I wasn't going to mention that."

"Why not? It was hilarious," Sunset said. "We don't get to see that savage side of you often enough."

Arslan's eyebrows rose. "'Savage side'?"

"I thought she was going to break the guy's arm at one point," Sunset said eagerly.

"Sunset, please," Pyrrha murmured. "I'd rather that you didn't recount it at all, and if you must, can you do it without sounding quite so gleeful upon the subject?"

"You're the one who did it," Sunset pointed out.

"I know," Pyrrha admitted. "And I was very angry at the time; that does not mean that I wish it to become part of my…" — she searched for a less vain-sounding word than 'image,' but could not find one — "my reputation."

"Even if you had broken his arm, it's more restrained than some in Mistral would have been in the circumstances," Arslan observed. "I mean, I'd have knocked a few of his teeth out at the very least."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Pyrrha replied. "Duelling is one thing, but duels are fought between, if not equals, then at least between those who know what they are doing. A duel between a skilled combatant and someone off the street, their aura unactivated, no training, that would be counted as murder — and rightly so." She paused for a moment. "I was … angry. Jaune is…" Jaune is the best thing that has ever been mine. Jaune makes me feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Jaune is the … Jaune is the only unalloyed good in my life. "But it would have been mere bullying to have hurt a civilian, given what I am, and I do not wish to sink so low."

"Please tell me you did something," Arslan said. "That sort of thing can't be allowed."

"His wife is divorcing him, his in-laws all know that he's a liar and a cheat in every sense, and so does the rest of the town after I frogmarched him round it and made him confess to everybody," Sunset said.

Arslan nodded. "Yeah, that sounds like punishment enough, I must say."

Ruby frowned. "But why would Jaune's brother-in-law want to do that to you in the first place?"

"Because Ruben is … a jackass," Jaune said, a sigh in his voice. "And he always has been; it just took this for people to stop making excuses for him."

"If everyone else wouldn't mind," Pyrrha said, "I'd rather not dwell on this particular aspect of our trip, especially when the rest of it was … very pleasant in parts."

"I wish that we could talk about pleasant things only," Arslan muttered, "but the Daily—"

"I'm aware," Pyrrha said. "My mother called when we were on the train. But thank you for coming down to let me know."

"Arslan showed me what they were saying," Ruby said. "Who'd come up with something like that?"

"I told you, it's Phoebe," Arslan said.

"Phoebe?" Pyrrha repeated. "But why?"

"Because she's out to get you, that's why," Arslan replied. "And she was in a particularly foul mood right before this bilge got published, as I told Ruby and Sunset at the time. She knows that she can't beat you in the ring, so she's going to try and destroy your reputation."

"I'm well aware that she dislikes me, but still," Pyrrha murmured. "That's a serious accusation to make without proof."

"I have proof," Arslan declared. "The Daily Remnant always soft-soaps Phoebe; if you look at their coverage of the start of the Tournament season, you'll always find that they rate Phoebe higher than any other publication does. Seriously, have you not noticed that? Do you not read the pre-season coverage?"

"No," said Pyrrha.

Arslan rolled her eyes. "It must be nice to know you're always going to win, no matter who you might be up against."

"That isn't—"

"I know, I know," Arslan said. "But still: I'm right about this."

"That is hardly proof," Pyrrha pointed out. "In any case, it hardly matters."

"Why not, of course it matters!" Arslan retorted. "Don't tell me that you're going to take this lying down?"

"My mother is suing the Daily Remnant," Pyrrha informed her, "but apart from that … I'm not yet sure if there is anything that can be done."

"There must be something," Arslan said. "This kind of thing shouldn't be allowed."

"Well, perhaps it will come to me." Pyrrha frowned slightly. "How … how is … how are the other Haven students … do they believe it?"

"I haven't spoken to all of them," Arslan said. "Bolin, unfortunately, believes it, but Reese and Nadir don't; I've heard Cicero speaking up for you, so that's good; Cephalus believes it, but I'm not surprised there; he'd believe anything that made a woman look bad, and in any case, Meleager got into a fight with him about it, so that makes it even."

"Really?" Pyrrha asked. "Meleager?" Meleager had once tried to poison her when they were children; she was surprised that he would take her side in this.

Arslan nodded. "Saw it with my own eyes. Your Professor Goodwitch had to arrive to break it up. She had some rather harsh words for the rest of us on nobody having tried to break it up ourselves, but she is from Vale, I suppose; she doesn't understand our Mistralian ways."

"There was a fight in the cafeteria this morning," Ruby agreed. "Though I don't know that you all should have let it go on like you did."

"It was a battle of honour."

"You all formed a ring and started chanting their names."

"I don't see how that in any way contradicts what I just said," Arslan replied. "And of course, Sun and Neptune believe you, but I'm not so sure about their teammates. Overall, I'd say most people — the ones with sense — see this for what it is. That and … well, it was bad enough that there was an ally of the White Fang wearing our colours for the best part of a year, stains the whole reputation of Haven. If Mistral's brightest star was also a traitor … nobody really wants that for Mistral." She grinned. "Nobody who's put their hopes on you wants to feel like they've been taken for a sucker, P-money."

"That isn't particularly reassuring," Pyrrha murmured.

"It's better than the alternative, right?" Arslan asked. "Anyway, you know what's up, so I'll let you guys catch up. See you around!" She turned her back on them but waved behind her as she sloped off in the direction of the school.

"Thank you!" Pyrrha called after her.

"Okay, I want to hear everything about what happened, all of the good stuff!" Ruby insisted. "But, also, I have some things to tell you as well … although they should probably wait until we get back to the dorm room."

"Then let us go there, as swiftly as we may," Pyrrha said.

They did, in fact, return to the dorm rooms quickly; nobody tried to hinder them upon their way there, although a few students did stare at them as they walked down the path that led to the courtyard, and thence across the courtyards into the dorm itself. The corridor that led to their dorm room was quiet; nobody had graffitied their door, thankfully, and nobody from Team YRBN came out to welcome them back — or do anything else for that matter.

And yet, as they approached, Ruby cast a glance towards the door, as if she was expecting, or hoping for, someone to emerge.

Nevertheless, nobody did, and Team SAPR returned to their own room, Sunset — the last one in — closing the door behind them.

Pyrrha put her cases down at the foot of her bed, but for the moment made no move to begin unpacking them.

"So, Ruby," she said, "what have we missed while we've been away?"

"Oh, no," Ruby said, sitting down on her own bed with her legs crossed. "You first; like I said, I want to hear everything."

Pyrrha laughed lightly. "There isn't really that much to tell, honestly. It was … it was very wonderful."

"Not all the time," Jaune admitted.

"Jaune," Pyrrha murmured.

"It's true," Jaune said; he walked around her bed, avoiding her cases on the way, and sat down there, facing Ruby. "Not all of the things that I was worried about came true — my Dad was pretty sanguine about the whole 'breaking Crocea Mors' situation, and of course, like you said, Pyrrha wasn't interested in any of the village guys—"

"It will never cease to amaze me that you thought she might be," Sunset said.

"That was pretty dumb," Ruby agreed.

"I know!" Jaune yelped. "You don't all have to remind me!"

"And yet, when the moment came, you did not doubt me," Pyrrha said, sitting down and placing a hand around his shoulders, her fingers resting gently upon his neck. "That counts for far, far more than all your fears before your going, however irrational those fears might be."

"So what happened?" Ruby asked. "I mean, you said some of the things that you were afraid of happened."

"Not all of my family liked Pyrrha, at first," Jaune admitted. "Less because of Pyrrha than because of … what she represented, I guess. They didn't want me to come back to Beacon. They wanted me to stay home and send Pyrrha away."

"But you didn't."

"No, of course not," Jaune said. "I couldn't leave Pyrrha, and I couldn't not come back. Luckily, it didn't take long for most people to come around … to Pyrrha, and to me becoming a huntsman."

Ruby nodded. "How did you convince them?"

Jaune glanced at Pyrrha, who said, "We were able to be of some assistance during a grimm attack."

Ruby gasped. "Was everyone okay?"

"Thankfully, yeah," Jaune said. "One of my sisters was hurt, but I was able to heal her, and the grimm was killed before it could do too much damage. But it helped my family to see that what I'm doing is worthwhile."

"But what if more grimm show up?" asked Ruby.

"Sky — one of my sisters, the Sheriff of Alba Longa — is hiring a huntsman to protect the village and recommend any security measures," Jaune said.

"Oh, okay," Ruby said. "That's good. That's probably the best thing, short of getting a huntsman to stay permanently."

"I'm not sure that Sky could afford that," Jaune said.

"But if your village is a nice place, maybe they'll want to stay and settle down," Ruby suggested. "Dad says that's how half the villages in Remnant end up being protected: they can't afford huntsmen to stick around, but the huntsmen fall in love with these quiet places — and sometimes, they just fall in love — and end up making their homes there."

"Until they have to go on other jobs," Sunset said. "It's all very well to fall in love with a place and make it your home, but that attitude doesn't pay the bills."

"I guess not," Ruby agreed. "So is that when you won them over? What about after that?"

"Unfortunately, we never won over Jaune's brother-in-law, Ruben," Pyrrha murmured. "But, yes, other than that, most of the family became much more welcoming — where they hadn't been already; Kendal welcomed me with open arms from the very beginning — and that is when I found out that Jaune is an uncle."

Ruby's eyes widened. "Really? You're Uncle Jaune."

"Yep, I've got a nephew named Adrian," Jaune said, getting out his scroll. "I think I've got some pictures here that Saphron sent me."

"He's a very adorable young man," Pyrrha said. She smiled. "We got to babysit him."

"Aww!" Ruby cooed. "I bet that was awesome."

"Oh, it was lovely," Pyrrha said.

Jaune flicked through the photos on his scroll. "Here he is: Adrian Cotta-Arc, and his other mommy, Terra Cotta."

He held out his scroll, containing a picture of Adrian, held in Terra's arms, smiling for the camera.

Ruby's eyes got even bigger as she looked at the picture. "Oooh! You're right; he is adorable! Look at those chubby cheeks! Look at that smile!"

"Hey, Sunset," Jaune said, "don't you want to look?"

Sunset put her hands on her hips and pointedly looked away. "No."

Jaune's face fell a little. "Why not?"

"Because I have no interest in children," Sunset said, still not looking at Jaune or at the picture. "The infants of your species cannot measure up to the cuteness of my own people at that age." She glanced at the picture of Adrian. "Although … okay, that's a pretty cute kid."

"I don't think I want any children of my own," Ruby said, "but I hope that Yang has at least one, because I'd love to be Aunt Ruby to someone: baker of cookies and slayer of monsters!"

Pyrrha's brow furrowed ever so slightly. "You're very young to decide that you don't want children of your own."

Ruby shrugged. "It's just not something … I don't see it. Dad's life, Mom's life, a house and a family … that's not for me."

"Is that because you don't want it?" Sunset asked. "Or because you don't expect to have it?"

Ruby hesitated for a moment. "Maybe … maybe I just don't want to leave an orphan behind, without a mom."

"That's fair enough," Jaune said. "My Dad quit because of that, but … but you're not really the quitting type, are you?"

Ruby chuckled. "No. At least I hope not."

"It's your choice, of course," Sunset said. "But, considering that you're the only person we know about with silver eyes, and considering that it seems to be passed on through bloodline … some might argue that you have a responsibility to Remnant to continue that line."

"Is that what you're arguing?" Pyrrha asked, her voice sharpening ever so slightly.

Sunset licked her lips. "I … bloodlines are important, especially when there are magic powers attached," she said. "But, as I say, it's Ruby's choice. It's just something that you should be aware of when you make that choice."

"I guess," Ruby murmured. "That's just … that's where I am right now: I like kids, but I wouldn't like to raise one myself. Anyway, what else happened with you two?"

"We danced at Jaune's father's birthday party," Pyrrha said, leaning upon Jaune, "and they even asked me to be in the family photograph."

Ruby clasped her hands together above her heart. "Oh, I bet you were thrilled about that!"

"I was, believe me," Pyrrha agreed. "It was … as I say, it was wonderful."

"It was good," Jaune agreed. "I got to clear the air with my Dad, with Mom, I got to leave again on good terms with my sisters … and Ruben's out of Rouge's life, so we even got to leave the rest of the family better off than they were before. So, all in all, it was a pretty good trip."

Ruby nodded. "And what about you, Sunset, did you find out anything about Jaune's family? Is he a lord? Is he a prince?"

"I'm not sure yet, but I think he's something," Sunset said. "I'm not the first person to look into this, and though I don't know what they found yet, I know that they found something. So I'm going to try and retrace their steps … after you tell us what's been going on with you while we were all away."

Ruby's face fell. "Right. Yeah." She took a deep breath, then swallowed. Then she breathed in again, as deeply as before. "Raven paid a visit last night."

There was a moment of silence from Pyrrha and the others.

Sunset said, "When you say 'paid a visit'…?"

"She was here," Ruby said. "In this room. I'd been out with Team Iron — except for Blake, and by the way, everyone in Vale seemed really cranky about something. People were attacking faunus and the Atlesians, and it was really, really weird. Anyway, we got back, and … there she was, Raven, in this room, waiting for us."

"What did she want?" asked Pyrrha.

"To talk," Ruby said. "She was … disappointed that I was working for Professor Ozpin, disappointed that I hadn't told Yang about Salem — Sunset, how could you have told Yang about Salem?"

"You told Yang?" Pyrrha asked.

"Yes," Sunset said. "Although I'm not sure how Raven found that out."

"She didn't; Yang just told us then," Ruby explained. "But still … why?"

"Because she was upset with you and didn't get why you were acting the way you were," Sunset said. "I thought I was doing you a favour."

"But we weren't supposed to tell," Ruby said. "Professor Ozpin—"

"I didn't trust Professor Ozpin at that time, so his commandments lay not heavily upon my shoulders," Sunset replied. "Now … in the same position now, I might think more carefully before I told Yang aught, but it's a bit late for such considerations now; I've told her. I've told her, and I don't know any spells to wipe her memory. Not that I would, by the way."

"Now Yang's mad at me," Ruby murmured. "Not just, or even not mostly, because of the Salem stuff, but … I didn't tell her about anything Professor Ozpin had told me about Mom either."

"Ruby," Pyrrha murmured reproachfully.

"I know, I know," Ruby muttered.

"You told me, but you didn't tell Yang?"

"I know!" Ruby yelled. "You don't have to rub it in." She sighed. "What am I going to do?"

"I will talk to Yang, if you wish," Pyrrha suggested. "I will try and persuade her that you meant no harm and that you do not deserve to be punished for your mistake."

Ruby looked up at Pyrrha. "Would you? Really?"

"I will try," Pyrrha said. She wasn't certain that she was the best person to undertake this task, but Sunset had already spoken to Yang about this, and that decision had brought about this present state of affairs. Perhaps Pyrrha could offer a different perspective.

"Thank you," Ruby said softly.

"Thank me after I have accomplished something," Pyrrha said.

"What else did Raven say?" asked Jaune.

"She warned us not to trust Professor Ozpin," Ruby said. "And something about the Four Maidens, something that he wasn't telling us … but then Professor Goodwitch came in before she could explain what she meant. Raven … left. And then Professor Goodwitch took Yang away to talk to her on her own, and she didn't explain anything either."

"Not surprising, considering that it's something Professor Ozpin does not wish us to know," Sunset murmured. She folded her arms. "Four Maidens. It must be connected to Auburn and Merida, to the women that I read about in the books Twilight gave me. Not prophets, not saints, but … Maidens, apparently. Not the best name ever, but okay."

Pyrrha glanced at Jaune. "Do you think … do you think it could also be connected to the Story of the Seasons?"

"The … that's a fairy tale, isn't it?" Sunset asked.

"Yes," Pyrrha said. "It's in the book for Doctor Oobleck's class."

"That's how I know the name, but I don't recall the details," Sunset replied. "It wasn't one of my favourites."

"Pyrrha tells it very well," Jaune pointed out.

Pyrrha chuckled softly. "Thank you, Jaune, but I'm not sure that Sunset wants to be put to sleep the way that Adrian did. But the shorter version is that, once upon a time, a reclusive old man, dwelling alone in a little cottage, was visited by four travelling sisters. The first shared his desire for solitude and urged him to use his time to meditate; the second tended to his garden and brought forth fruits and flowers form it which she gifted to the old man; the third warmed his heart and convinced him to step outside and experience the world beyond his cottage; and the fourth begs him to be thankful for all that he has and all that he has been given. In gratitude, the old man granted the sisters incredible power, and they promised to use that power to help the people of Remnant until the end of days. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall: the four seasons."

"Or the Four Maidens," Ruby pointed out.

"Exactly," Pyrrha said. "I think Jaune was about to suggest as much back at his family home, but it didn't seem the time for such a discussion." She looked at him. "I think the time has come now."

"I mean, it makes sense," Jaune said. "Professor Ozpin told us that there were only two gods, and they both left ages ago, so the idea of these gods of Vale or Mistral choosing women and bestowing power on them doesn't make much sense, except that there are so many stories and so widespread — and Twilight says that she saw one — that it seems like they can't just be myths that someone made up."

"Because why would so many people make up the same thing," Sunset said.

"Exactly," said Jaune. "But what if the fairy tale is the real story of how these four, Four Maidens, started? What if an old man gave them their powers, and then those same powers have stuck around all this time, passing from person to person by … I don't know how."

"No, I can't work that part out either," Sunset agreed. "It seems as if you can get the powers by killing the previous … previous Maiden, which is all kinds of messed up and a terrible way to organise things, but other than that … it seems to be random. Which is also ridiculous."

"What would be a better way to organise it?" Ruby asked.

"Through accomplishment, obviously!" Sunset declared. "We Equestrians know a thing or two about magically empowering talented individuals, and let me tell you that Alicornhood doesn't grow on trees, and you certainly can't get it by murdering another alicorn. You have to accomplish something, you have to achieve something, you have to at least start making Equestria an even better place than you found it, and then you get the power to keep doing that but better. Now, the old man made a good start in that regard, by giving his power to four women who didn't really need it—"

"If they didn't really need it, then what was the point in giving them the power in the first place?" Ruby asked.

"That," Sunset said. "That … is not a terrible question—"

"As a reward for their virtue, as the tale describes," Pyrrha said. "They proved themselves to the old man; they showed that they were worthy and willing to help the people of Remnant."

"But did they need magic to do that?" asked Ruby. "I mean, they didn't need it to help the old man in the first place; they helped him by being kind and generous and thoughtful. How were magic powers supposed to make them more of any of those things?"

"To protect them?" Jaune suggested. "It's always been a scary world; maybe the old man was afraid that four women travelling alone, or even together, would be at risk from the grimm. Maybe the magic was supposed to protect them so that they could keep helping others? Or maybe it was less for them and more to mark those who came after?"

"So it was always about passing the magic on?" Sunset said. "But then we come back to the fact that it's an awful method of transferring power that encourages the very worst people whom you would least want to have that sort of power. Where is the test to prove worthiness? Princess Twilight of my home didn't simply wake up with wings one day; she had to … to make friends and learn lessons and finish the incomplete masterwork left to us by Starswirl the Bearded, the greatest wizard in our history. This power of these Maidens … it can fall to anyone."

"When put so, it does sound … less than ideal," Pyrrha conceded. "But perhaps it was unavoidable. Who is to say that anyone made a conscious choice in deciding how these powers, the powers of the Maidens, were passed on?"

"Perhaps, but even so," Sunset said. "And for that matter, where did this old man get the power to bestow upon the Maidens from in the first place?"

"Does that matter?" Pyrrha asked.

Sunset paused for a second. "Probably not," she admitted. "But I'd like to know regardless."

"In any case," Pyrrha said, "it seems clear now what happened: the old man, whoever he was, bestowed his power upon the Four Maidens, just as the fairy tale declared."

"And for a while, this system worked as it was intended to do," Sunset continued. "As the power was passed from Maiden to Maiden, someone, another Old Man, possibly Professor Ozpin's predecessor as head of this circle, found them and trained them and then sent them out into the world when they were ready."

"To continue the mission of the original four sisters," Pyrrha said.

"Yes," Sunset agreed. "Until the Dark Mother—"

"Salem," Ruby said.

"We can probably assume that, yes," Pyrrha murmured.

"She puts the idea into someone's head to kill one of the Maidens and take her power, which she did," Sunset said.

"And then took over Mistral, defeating my ancestor in battle and forcing her husband to send their child into hiding," Pyrrha added.

"And before too long, all of the Maidens have been hunted down and killed by those who desire their power and proceed to abuse it relentlessly," Sunset said. "Until at last, someone else, who is probably again Professor Ozpin's predecessor, gathers a group much like ourselves, hunts down the bad Maidens, kills all of them, at which point, apparently, the powers vanish."

"But they didn't," Jaune said. "They're still here, to this day. Just hidden."

Sunset nodded. "From what happened with Auburn and Merida, we can guess that Professor Ozpin's predecessors, down to Professor Ozpin himself, are keeping an eye on the Maidens but keeping them secret, lest they be attacked as they were before." She paused. "I disagree with this, by the way."

"Disagree with what?" Pyrrha asked.

"With hiding the Maidens," Sunset said. "They should be out there, spreading … harmony or whatever, just as they were meant to do, just as they were empowered to do."

"But you know why that isn't possible," Pyrrha said. "Wicked people would hunt them down for their power. Salem would do so if she could, no doubt. Don't you think that Cinder or those like her would leap at the chance to become so powerful?"

"I think Cinder would find no joy in a victory won through overwhelming power rather than skill and cunning," Sunset said. "It would prove nothing in her eyes, and she craves to prove her superiority over you more than anything else."

I fear she may have done so already. "That is a very … generous assessment of her nature, Sunset, but I wasn't simply referring to myself, but rather more generally, and even if you are correct, then what of others, what if Salem has other servants besides Cinder? The risk—"

"Is extant, I admit, but can be managed in other respects," Sunset said. "Guards, for instance."

"What do you have against this approach?" asked Pyrrha.

"It is robbery," Sunset declared. "It steals from all the people of Remnant who deserve to see magic, to see power, and … and to marvel at it, to bask in its glory, to stand in its light, be themselves illuminated, to have the shadows banished from them. As I said, my people are no strangers to the idea of granting magical power as a form of inspiration. These women should serve as paragons of their kind, models of the cardinal virtues of the human race, inspiring others to follow in their footsteps—"

"None of that needs magic," Ruby said. "You don't need magical powers to be inspiring; you don't need to be able to wield enormous power to be such a good person that you inspire others to be better. None of that takes power; it just takes … it takes goodness. Power doesn't inspire people—"

"Does it not?" Sunset asked. "Does it not make them braver, more sure of themselves—?"

"There are other ways," Ruby insisted. "The ways that the original four sisters had of inspiring the old man without any magical power! Anyone can do that, right now, today, in Vale or Atlas or Mistral. Blake is doing that right now; she's inspired Rainbow Dash to be so much better than she was before, and I think she'll inspire others just the same in the days and years to come. But if Blake is killed—"

"The only thing that is lost is her example," Pyrrha murmured.

"You say that like it is nothing," Sunset said.

"Then I spoke poorly, for I did not mean it so," Pyrrha replied. "Blake's spirit is … incomparable, and her loss would be felt grievously amongst those who loved her, and even amongst those who only knew her. But it would not alter the balance of power the way that the power of the Maidens falling into the hands of Salem would."

"Hmm," Sunset mused. "I still think it's worth the risk."

"It doesn't really matter what we think, does it?" Jaune asked. "The question is, what do we do now?"

"We should speak to Professor Ozpin and ask him these things directly," Pyrrha said. "He can tell us if our conclusions are correct or no."

"Perhaps he could, but will he?" replied Jaune. "I mean, he didn't tell us this stuff in the first place; he doesn't want us to know … what if he fobs us off, lies, refuses to talk about it?"

"Then we must accept that and accept that there are reasons to keep us ignorant," Pyrrha said. "But it is always possible that, faced with the knowledge we have already, he will decide to tell us what he did not before, and we will learn what is truth and what is speculation."

"I … I guess it's worth a shot," Jaune agreed.

"I'd like to know, if we can," Ruby said.

"Sunset?" Pyrrha asked, twisting her body to look at their leader.

Sunset folded her arms, and for a moment was silent. She glanced away from the rest of them, and her tail began to swish backwards and forwards. "I think," she said. "I think that … yes. Yes, we will go to Professor Ozpin, and we won't take no for an answer."

"That isn't entirely what I had in—"

"Professor Ozpin once told me that he liked Raven because she pushed back on him," Sunset informed them all. "So, if he will not tell us, that is what we will do: we shall push back, and I shall remind him that he encouraged me to do so. And that will serve him right."

Ruby snorted. Pyrrha … did not, although she had to admit that she could see the amusing side of it. Still, she very much hoped that it would not become necessary. Encouraged or not, the idea of pushing back at Professor Ozpin could not help but seem a little impertinent.

"Shall we go now?" she asked.

Sunset shook her head. "This evening, perhaps. It can wait, and we have other things to do. You need to—"

"Oh, wait a second," Ruby said, raising her hand. "There's one more thing that I need to tell you." She cleared her throat. "I called Juturna last night, to get some advice about Yang, and she told me that her brother is … coming to Vale in the next few days."

"Turnus is coming to Vale?" Pyrrha asked. She blinked rapidly. "That is … why?"

"He's providing security for some guy who's coming to collect something called the Heart of Mistral," Ruby said.

"Sounds important," Jaune said.

"It is a gem, nothing more," Pyrrha said, "although it is a large, valuable, and finely cut and decorated one. It was lost to Mistral in the Great War, and its return has been a bone of contention with Vale ever since."

"From what Juturna said, it sounds as though Vale is so desperate for Mistralian help that they're willing to give it back," Ruby said.

"Well done, Mistralian negotiators," Pyrrha said softly. "But all the same, why does Turnus have to come here?"

"Juturna said that he wasn't going to do anything about … about you, you know," Ruby said. "Although … he does want to have dinner with me. Apparently, he wants to get to know me, since I'm Juturna's friend. If you don't want me to go—"

"No, I would never ask you to stay away on my account," Pyrrha said quickly. "To do so would offend Turnus' pride, and I would never advise you to do that. Besides, he is a wealthy and powerful man and will be a useful connection to you once you graduate."

Ruby blinked. "Why would I need one of those?"

"It is never a bad thing to possess such," Pyrrha said, "and as you cannot say what road you will wish to walk, or be forced to walk, after graduation, I would advise you not to turn down any chance of this nature. Go and have fun." She paused. "I only wish that I could be sure that he would not find time for any other such activities while he is here in the city."

"I can understand that he isn't happy about the whole … you two," Sunset said. "But what's the worst that he can do about it?"

"I … I don't know," Pyrrha admitted. This was Vale, not Mistral, after all; duelling was illegal here, and had been since before the Great War; Turnus could not simply contrive an excuse to fight Jaune, kill him, and then walk away unscathed and untouchable.

That did not mean that he was powerless and unable to do anything. And she was not willing to place all her trust in Juturna's word.

"I do not know," she repeated. "And yet, I have my fears regardless."

"Might it reduce your fears if Jaune were armed?" Sunset asked. "Jaune, stay here and start brainstorming a new weapon. Ruby, help him out; I expect some preliminary sketches by dinnertime. Pyrrha, go and speak to Yang on Ruby's behalf. And I will go to the library and see what I can find out about the Arcs, and then we will all meet back up and after dinner decide if we wish to or can see Professor Ozpin. Does that sound like a plan? Good, go to it then." She turned and strode towards the door.

"Good luck," Pyrrha murmured, giving Jaune a kiss on the cheek before she, too, rose and headed towards the door.

She left, and lacking any better idea of where to begin, she crossed the hallway and knocked gently upon the door of Team YRBN's room.

Nora opened the door very swiftly. "Hey, Pyrrha, welcome back," she said.

"Thank you," Pyrrha said.

"Did you have a good time?"

"Yes, it was very nice; Jaune's family were … most welcoming," Pyrrha said, which was mostly true, as true as she wanted to be with Nora, who no doubt had no real desire to hear all about the ups and downs of the visit.

Nora nodded. "I'm glad," she said. "You two make a really cute couple, you know. It's nice to know that there are some guys out there getting it right."

Pyrrha blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"So," Nora said quickly, "what can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if Yang was in," Pyrrha said.

"No," Nora said. "Yang's not here; it's just me and Ren." She paused for a moment. "Is this about Ruby?"

Pyrrha sighed. "What do you know?"

"I know that what Ruby did was pretty low if you ask me," Nora declared. "She was Yang's mother too, you know."

"I'm sure that it must have seemed very harsh to Yang," Pyrrha said. "But Ruby is contrite—"

"Not enough to apologise herself," Nora pointed out.

"That's not fair, Nora; I volunteered to speak to Yang," Pyrrha pointed out. "I hope that, without being involved, I can … speak more clearly. Do you know where Yang is?"

"You might find her out by the cliffs," Ren said, appearing to stand behind Nora. "She said that she was going for a walk around the grounds; I think that's where she'll likely end up."

"Ren," Nora murmured.

"Were you going to not tell her?" Ren asked. "Isn't it better that Yang and Ruby make up as quickly as possible? You know that this is upsetting Yang as much as Ruby."

"I also know that Ruby is the one who needs to apologise," Nora pointed out.

"That's for Yang to decide," Ren said, gently but firmly.

"The cliffs, then?" Pyrrha said. "Thank you." She turned to go.

"Pyrrha," Ren called out to her before she could go too far down the corridor. "We … believe in you."

Pyrrha half turned back towards them, the toes of her boots spinning upon the carpet. "You mean … this article that's been written about me?"

Ren nodded. "Your reputation … it meant little to us when we came to Beacon. We have not … our lifestyle hasn't given us a great familiarity with Mistralian culture. But you have shown your quality this past year. No one who is what they say you are could have done what you have done."

Pyrrha smiled. "Thank you," she said. "That … means more to me than any expression of blind faith ever could. Once more, I thank you."

The smile remained on her face as she walked down the corridor and began to descend the stairs leading out of the dorm room; let Phoebe, or whoever it might be, print what they liked about her: those who judged her by her deeds would … well, they would judge her by her deeds.

She walked briskly down the last flight of steps; the hallway leading out of the dorm room and into the central courtyard was before her now, but the door was blocked by Phoebe Kommenos — her hair now in its natural blonde colour, with no trace of the black dye that she had been wearing at the beginning of the semester — leaning against the wall with her arms folded, glancing in Pyrrha's direction.

There was no way to reach the door without passing her, so Pyrrha kept her gaze fixed upon said door and paid Phoebe not the least bit of attention as she walked towards it.

"So," Phoebe said, "the traitor has returned."

Pyrrha did not wish to dignify that with a response. She said nothing and continued walking.

Phoebe stepped away from the wall to physically bar Pyrrha's way.

Pyrrha came to a stop, scant inches from Phoebe. "May you please let me pass?" she asked. "I have urgent business I must attend to."

"'Urgent business,'" Phoebe repeated, in a mocking tone. "I think I can guess what that might be."

"It is nothing like you imagine," Pyrrha declared. "Nor is it anything that you can guess but will not dare to say."

Phoebe's blue eyes bulged. "Do you … are implying that I am afraid of you?"

"If you are not afraid, then speak your mind and give me cause," Pyrrha said. "Else let me pass."

Phoebe scowled, but she did not say what it was that she thought Pyrrha was going to do. Instead, she said, "I understand that you've been at the home of that peasant of yours."

"Jaune is not a peasant," Pyrrha replied sharply.

"Is he not?" Phoebe asked. "Is he not rustic? Does he not originate in the countryside? Is he not lowly born?"

That remains to be determined. "He did grow up in the countryside, yes."

"Then it is no insult to say that he is a peasant, is it?" Phoebe asked.

"The Arc family are landowners within their community," Pyrrha pointed out. "Small, by the standards of your family, or mine own, but Jaune's father is a landed gentleman nevertheless."

"Then I apologise for insulting Squire Arc's dignity so," Phoebe growled. She smirked and let out a titter of light laughter. "It was only my intent to call a spade a spade, or a trashcan a trashcan." She laughed again. "But still, even if there is some little plot of land within the family … he is only a Valish gentleman, you will concede."

"I will agree, I concede nothing," Pyrrha said. "What is your point, Phoebe?"

"Why?" Phoebe demanded. "The best man in Mistral waits for you, and yet, you lower yourself into the Valish earth with this … this small landowner's son."

"My judgement of men is not yours," Pyrrha declared. "My view on what makes a good man is not the same as yours. If Turnus Rutulus is so worthy in your eyes, then pursue him for yourself."

Phoebe scowled. "You think that you are so much better than the rest of us, don't you? You think that just because you were born skilled and are reputed virtuous, because you have the love of the common rabble, you may go about with your nose in the air and your head in the clouds looking down upon the rest of us, casting aspersions upon our ways, our honour, our way of life. You spit on our traditions."

Phoebe spat on her, a glob of spittle landing upon Pyrrha's cheek.

Pyrrha took a step back, wiping at her face with one hand. "I knew you didn't like me," she observed. "I thought it was just because I beat you."

"The fact that such gifts as yours, the greatest gifts to be bestowed in Mistral in many a year, were given to one who hates Mistral—"

"I do not hate Mistral!" Pyrrha cried. "A piece of my heart will belong to our city always."

"The city will soon see you for what you truly are," Phoebe declared. "And I cannot wait to see your statue fall." She turned away, and strode out of the door, letting it slam shut behind her.

Pyrrha had no wish to follow her too closely out; she wanted to find Yang, true, but she didn't want to come out too closely behind Phoebe and be drawn into yet more confrontation with her.

My nose in the air and my head in the clouds, is that really how she sees me?

Is that how I am seen by all, or others?

She did not confess. But then, I hardly said anything that would have led her to confess or to acknowledge what she had done.

What would I do if I had proof, challenge her?

I would have cause to do so.

But as of now, I have none; she was careful not to give me cause for such a thing.

She hates me. But what could I have done, other than letting her win?

I am not willing to do that. It may be a vanity, but I am proud of my record of victories.

It may be all I have.

Perhaps if I had married Turnus, she would not think me so down upon Mistralian tradition.

But I am not willing to do that either. I would not forsake Jaune for … for anything.

Let her think that I care not for Mistral and Mistralian ways; I'll be happy with Jaune, and that counts for more.

Though I do hope that others in Mistral will take to him more warmly than Phoebe Kommenos.

Judging that enough time had gone by and that Phoebe would not be so close at this point, Pyrrha followed her out of the door, emerging out of the dormitory and into the sunlight that fell upon the grounds. Her eyes passed briefly over the statue of the huntsman and huntress, where a figure sat enrobed in purple and dark green.

Pyrrha turned away, her red sash trailing a little behind her as she moved to walk around the building and towards the cliffs.

"Pyrrha!" a voice called to her, female but mellow, almost mature-sounding. "Pyrrha Nikos!"

Pyrrha turned back to see the figure who had been seated on the statue approaching her. She wore a light purple dress, narrow and ankle-length, allowing her feet to be visible in the forest green shoes whose straps wound their way up the pale skin of her feet and legs. Over her dress, she wore a dark green cloak, complete with a hood by the looks of things, although she was not wearing the hood at present, revealing a pale, sharp-featured face and long hair of a pale bluish purple spilling down behind her head. She was wearing a second cape over the top of that one, a short cape of a deep, regal purple, clasped at the neck with a golden broach.

Her high-heeled shoes tapped against the flagstones of the courtyard as she approached.

"Pyrrha Nikos," she said again.

"You have the advantage of me," Pyrrha replied.

"Medea," she said. "Medea Helios, from Colchis in Mistral."

"Ah, yes, Colchis," Pyrrha said. "They have a very grand arena there; I fought in a small tournament—"

"In honour of the wedding of my sister, Chalciope," Medea informed her. "It would have been polite to have let the groom take the honours."

Pyrrha laughed nervously. "I hope that no true warrior would wish for the false triumph of having victory gifted to him."

Medea chuckled. "I don't know about that, but I do know that at the end of the tournament, you may have got the laurel, but Phrixus still got to marry my sister, and if that wasn't enough for him, then he wouldn't be worth consideration."

Pyrrha nodded. "You are a Haven student?"

"Team Jasmine," Medea replied. "I am not the leader, but I sometimes feel as though I do the work of such. Where Jason and the rest would be without my plans, I shudder to think."

"Medea," Pyrrha said, "I do not wish to be rude, but I do have some business to attend to—"

"Oh, please, I won't keep you long," Medea assured her. "I just wanted to say that, no matter what may be said about you in some quarters, you have my support. You've got that of my team too, but mine is more important, obviously."

"That is very kind of you," Pyrrha said. "But I'm a little surprised to hear that I have the support of Jason and Meleager."

"Yes, they told me about what happened when you were younger; fortunately, they've mellowed since then. And they don't believe that a student of Chiron could betray Mistral or humanity."

"And you?" Pyrrha asked.

"You have the favour of the gods; your victories proclaim it," Medea said. "And as a priestess, I can say with confidence that they would not grant their favour to one who was not worthy of it."

The gods of Mistral are not real and never were, Pyrrha thought. But what she said, because that fact was almost too depressing to think about, much less to voice to a servant of the gods, was, "Which god are you a priestess to?"

"Thessaly," Medea said. "The Nightwitch, the Boundary Warden, the Moon's Mistress, the Keeper of the Crossroads and the Entrance Ways. Incidentally, the lore of herbs and poisonous plants are a particular hobby of mine and sacred to Thessaly, so if you'd like me to poison anyone who speaks ill of you—"

"That is a very … generous offer," Pyrrha said. "But no, thank you, that won't be necessary. I hope that most people will see these lies for what they are in any case."

"As you wish," Medea said. "But my offer stands, should you reconsider."

"I will bear that in mind," Pyrrha murmured. "But now, I really must be going."

"Good fortune, and the moon smile down upon you, Pyrrha Nikos," Medea declared with a bow of her head.

Pyrrha smiled, a rather fixed smile, the sort of smile that did not reach her eyes she used for the press.

She found herself walking more briskly than normal as she headed away from school towards the cliffs.

One person hates me, and the other who supports me wants to poison people on my behalf.

There are times I would rather have been born a shepherdess than the heiress to the House of Nikos.

Although I'm sure that if any real shepherdesses were to hear my thought, then they would sneer and scoff and say that I have no idea how hard they work.

They would even be right to think so.

Even so…

Pyrrha counted herself fortunate — a stroke of good fortune she quite frankly deserved — that she did indeed find Yang upon the cliffs, sitting down in such a way that looked temporary, her legs laid out in such a way as she could easily leap up again the moment the mood took her, one hand resting upon the grass and the other upon her knee.

She was looking out across the cliffs to the Emerald Forest beyond as the gentle breeze licked at her long golden hair.

"Yang," Pyrrha said, as she approached. "Ren told me I might find you here."

Yang shrugged. "Well, here I am."

Pyrrha nodded. "I was hoping that I could speak to you."

"Let me guess," Yang said, with a sigh in her voice. "It's about Ruby, right?"

"It is," Pyrrha agreed.

Yang looked away. "I'm not sure that I'm in the mood for that right now," she said.

"No?"

"No," Yang said.

Pyrrha took another few steps closer towards her. She could feel the breeze lapping at her face, tugging at her crimson sash and her long ponytail.

"I," she said, following Yang's gaze out over the forest, "have just been accused in print, or at least in publication, of being an ally of the White Fang, an accomplice of Cinder Fall, and an enemy of humanity. Someone has just admitted they hate me, and the person who told me they support me wants to poison people on my behalf if they do not also support me. So tell me, Yang, how has your day been so far?"

Yang looked up at her, her lilac eyes wide. "Oh my God, you're not even kidding, are you?"

"Unfortunately not," Pyrrha murmured.

Yang continued to stare up at her. "Well, if your intent was to show that my day isn't so bad … it kinda worked." She patted the ground beside her. "Sit down."

"Thank you," Pyrrha said softly and sat down, her legs spread out to her right.

For a moment, they sat in silence, both looking out over the forest. There were no flying grimm in the air today, and they could see no grimm down below either, concealed as they were by the great expanse of the green trees. All they could see were the ships of the Atlesian fleet patrolling overhead, the vigil of the north keeping watch over them all.

"I gotta admit," Yang said. "There have been times when I've thought it must be pretty cool to be you."

"You wouldn't be the first to think so," Pyrrha whispered.

"But you don't, do you?"

"There are times…" Pyrrha said. "There are times when I … when I dislike my life intensely."

Yang snorted. "You dislike it intensely? If you want to say 'hate' you can, you know."

"I'm not sure that I could go that far," Pyrrha said. "After all, I cannot deny that I have grown up extraordinarily privileged, wanting for nothing; to say I hate it might seem … too spoiled."

Yang shook her head. "You don't need to be so mild all the time, you know. You're allowed to let it out. You just did a moment ago when you asked me how my day was. You should act that way more often."

"No, I don't think that I could," Pyrrha replied. "That isn't me at all."

"Then who asked me how my day was?" Yang asked.

"Someone who suddenly felt extremely tired," Pyrrha said. "I'm sorry."

"And don't apologise either," Yang instructed her. "How was your trip?"

Pyrrha allowed herself to smile. "We … we talked about our future together," she said.

"You and Jaune?"

Pyrrha nodded. "Where we would live … how many children we'd have."

"Wow!" Yang said. "You two are down bad, aren't you?"

Pyrrha chuckled, her cheeks heating up. "You say that as though it's something to be ashamed of."

"At our age, it kind of is," Yang replied. "Should you really be tying yourself down like that so young? Isn't he your first crush?"

"He is," Pyrrha acknowledged. "But … I already know that I will never find another like him."

"How?" Yang asked. "How can you possibly know that?"

"I don't know it, I feel it," Pyrrha replied. "In my heart. In my soul. How else should I feel love?"

Yang did not reply for a moment. She said, "Well, if you're sure, then what is there to do but wish you happiness?" She paused. "You know my … my mother and my dad got together at Beacon."

Pyrrha hesitated. "You mean … Raven?"

Yang nodded. "And then she left." She paused. "You know, Jaune looks an awful lot like our Dad: blond hair, blue eyes—"

"That does not make me Raven," Pyrrha pointed out.

"No, no, it doesn't, and I wasn't suggesting that you were going to … I guess I'm just saying, at our age, these things don't always work out."

"I appreciate your concern," Pyrrha whispered. "Yang … Ruby is bound by strictest secrecy, as we all are—"

"About Salem, yes," Yang agreed. "But about Mom?"

"As Summer Rose was Professor Ozpin's agent against Salem, her story is bound up with those secrets," Pyrrha said.

"Not everything about her is; it doesn't have to be," Yang replied. "Ruby could have told me … she could have told me where Mom came from, how she got to Vale, what happened to her when she got there. She could have told me stuff if she'd wanted to, but she didn't."

"It has not been so long," Pyrrha pointed out. "It could be that Ruby was waiting for the right time."

"Why wasn't the right time right after?" Yang demanded.

"I … cannot say," Pyrrha admitted. "But you know Ruby bears you no malice; she would never intentionally harm you thus."

"I know," Yang muttered. "But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. A lot of things hurt right now."

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that Professor Ozpin didn't want me to know the truth because he's worried I'll turn out like my mother," Yang said. "Like the fact that my mother is a pretty awful person to turn out like, more than I ever expected."

"How so?" Pyrrha asked.

Yang glanced at her, then glanced away, then glanced at Pyrrha again. "She's a bandit," she said. "And not the good kind, either."

"Is there a good kind of bandit?"

"I don't know, people keep asking me if she, I don't know—"

"Robs from the rich and gives to the poor?" Pyrrha suggested. "I think that only happens in stories."

"Probably," Yang agreed. "My mother kills the poor and steals from their bodies."

"And my ancestors kept faunus as slaves," Pyrrha pointed out. "We are not those who came before us. We may draw strength and inspiration from their virtues, if they had any, but we are not fated to do as they did, not condemned to walk the paths they walked, not certain to win their triumphs nor condemned to their disasters. Our destinies, our final goals, they are in our keeping and ours alone. Where is it that you see yourself, Yang Xiao Long, at the end of your journey?"

"At the end of my journey? What am I, you?" Yang asked. "Do you think I have all that stuff planned out?"

"I think if you didn't know where you wanted to be, you would not be here," Pyrrha replied gently.

Yang shrugged. "I mean … I wanted to travel, I guess. I wanted a life of adventure, a life where I didn't know what tomorrow would bring, what it would throw at me. A succession of new places to see, new people to meet … and new challenges to test myself against."

"'Wanted,'" Pyrrha murmured. "Not want?"

Yang sighed. "Salem—"

"Is not your responsibility," Pyrrha pointed out. "Professor Ozpin has not asked for your help; you are under no obligation to give it."

Yang let out a slightly bitter laugh. "I guess you have a point there," she said. "It doesn't seem like much of a goal though, does it?"

"The goal is yours," Pyrrha replied. "It is not for others to pronounce upon your destiny, its worthiness or otherwise. It is yours, and only you can say whether it is worthy of you or no." She paused. "Although I think Ruby would like a niece or nephew."

"Really?" Yang asked amusedly. "I'll bear that in mind." She paused. "Hey, Pyrrha?"

"Yes?"

"Ruby gets that what she did was wrong, right?" Yang asked. "Because I'm not going to apologise; I shouldn't have to. But … but I can accept her apology, I think."

"That is all that Ruby wants, I'm sure," Pyrrha said.

Yang nodded. "Hey, Pyrrha?"

"Yes?"

"Don't sweat too much about what gets written about you, or the people who hate you, or the people who want to poison for you … actually, do worry about that a little bit; you don't want to get charged as an accessory," Yang grinned. "The point is … none of them, none of them, really matter. You know who's got your back. You know who really knows you. Who really loves you. They're the ones that matter."

"I know," Pyrrha agreed. "And I feel intensely fortunate every time I remind myself of it."

XxXxX​

As the dorm room door closed behind Pyrrha, Ruby got up from her bed and walked over to the long desk that ran along the far side of the room. She grabbed a pad of paper and a pen.

"So, Jaune," she said, "what do you want your new sword to look like? Do you even want a sword at all? You know, if we melted all the pieces of the blade down, I think we'd probably have enough metal for an axe—"

"'An axe'?" Jaune repeated. "Wouldn't that be a little different to use compared to a sword?"

Ruby thought about it for a moment. "Probably a little bit, yeah."

"I think I should stick with a sword," Jaune replied. "I don't want Pyrrha to have to start teaching me how to use a new weapon from scratch all over again."

"That makes sense," Ruby said, as she walked back towards him. "My Mom used an axe," she said.

"Really?" Jaune asked. "Did Professor Ozpin tell you that?"

"Yeah," Ruby replied. Her voice became lower and quieter as she added, "It's one of the things that I didn't tell Yang."

"She'll come around," Jaune assured her. "She won't stay mad at you forever, she can't." He changed the subject, not back to his own weapon — he was … not exactly putting it off, but buying himself a few more minutes' breathing room to come up with more ideas — but to that of Summer Rose. "So, what was your Mom's axe called?"

"Vargcrist," Ruby announced. "It means 'Wolf Cleaver.'"

"Woah, sounds cool," Jaune said. "In either language. From the fact that Professor Ozpin told you that, I'm guessing that your Dad doesn't have it?"

Ruby shook her head. "Professor Ozpin said it disappeared with my Mom, on her last mission."

"'Disappeared,'" Jaune murmured. "You mean—?"

"They never found … they never found her, no," Ruby murmured.

"Then maybe—"

"No," Ruby replied. "No, she's not."

"What makes you so sure?" Jaune asked.

"Because she wouldn't just leave us," Ruby declared. "She wouldn't go away and disappear without saying anything like … like Raven. If Mom could come home, then she would have. She's gone. No one knows how or where exactly, but … but she's gone."

Jaune nodded, wishing that he hadn't mentioned it. It had seemed kind of obvious when Ruby talked about disappearance, but now … yeah, it would have been pretty rough for Summer Rose to have treated her children like that; if she could have done it, she would have been a very different sort of Mom than the one that Ruby seemed to remember — or idolise.

"What else did Professor Ozpin tell you?" he asked.

"Well, this is something that I need to tell Pyrrha as well, but Team Stark tried to take out Salem once."

Jaune's eyebrows rose as his blue eyes widened. "Really? But Salem can't be killed!"

"But Professor Ozpin hoped that they could be turned to stone using Mom's silver eyes," Ruby explained. "Only it … didn't work. According to Raven, Mom's eyes didn't do anything to her at all."

"Nothing?" Jaune repeated. "So … is she invulnerable as well as unkillable? She can't even be hurt?"

"I don't know," Ruby admitted. "Professor Ozpin didn't say … Professor Ozpin probably doesn't know. He wasn't there himself; he only knows what Mom and the others told him when they got back, and I don't think they knew exactly. Does it … does it really matter? Immortal, invulnerable, after what happened with Team Stark, it's not like we're ever going to face her ourselves."

"I guess not," Jaune said softly. "We'll just take on the likes of Cinder and the grimm."

"Uh huh," Ruby agreed. "But you aren't going to take on anybody without a sword."

Jaune chuckled. "Right, that."

Ruby hopped back onto her bed, resting the pad of paper on her knee. "So, what do you want? And don't say you just want your sword back the way it was, because that would be really boring, even if it is traditional."

"That's not what I want, don't worry," Jaune told her. "My Dad said that I should remake it in a way that's mine, a weapon for me, not for my great-great-grandfather or my great-grandfather or any other Arc who used Crocea Mors before me." He paused, scratching his chin with one finger. "The problem is … I don't really know what that means right now. A weapon that's for me, I mean. After all, I only started learning to fight this year; I'm still getting a hang of the basics." He smiled. "I guess what I'm saying is, it's a pity that Cinder couldn't wait until closer to graduation to break my sword when I have more idea of where my strengths are."

Ruby grinned. "Well, we know you've got a lot of aura, why don't we start there? That's a strength."

"Yeah, it is," Jaune agreed. "But what does it have to do with a weapon?"

"You could use your weapon to do powerful aura attacks," Ruby suggested.

"If I wanted to do that, wouldn't it make as much sense to just punch people, like Rainbow Dash does?"

"I guess so, but if you focussed your aura through your weapon, I'm pretty sure that you'd be more efficient and directed about it," Ruby replied. "Plus, you'd have the additional power coming from the weapon itself."

Jaune's brow furrowed. "Do you have something in mind?"

"I did have a thought," Ruby said, sketching rapidly upon the paper. "That if we reforged it the way it was, we could then rework the scabbard so that, besides converting to a shield, it could actually form an expanded sword, a two-hander — we'd have to expand the hilt so that you could hold it two-handed — which would allow you more powerful attacks even before we factor in the use of aura."

"But then I wouldn't have a shield," Jaune pointed out.

"Do you really need one?" Ruby asked. "Or armour, for that matter. With aura, you can focus your energies into the attack—"

"Maybe you'd have a point if I was just starting out on the rooftop," Jaune said. "But it's the same as changing a sword for an axe: I've already spent a whole year learning how to use a shield; I don't want to make that all just wasted effort."

"Hmm," Ruby murmured, which didn't sound particularly convinced, but she didn't contest the point; rather, she scrubbed out whatever she'd been drawing on the pad. "So, do you have any ideas?"

Jaune leaned forwards a little. "A couple. Do you think I'd be better off with a gun or with dust?"

Ruby frowned. "I don't think there's enough metal — in fact, I know for sure that there isn't enough metal — to give your sword transforming abilities. Even if you went for something simple like Penny's Floating Array, where all the swords do is fold up to create the laser cannons, I'm not sure you could retain the low width necessary to fit the scabbard."

"I'm not talking about transforming into a gun," Jaune said. "I'm talking about a gun just built into the sword, like Dove has, or else just a sword that also uses dust, like Weiss or Russel."

Ruby nodded. "That could work. Have you thought about using dust in your shield too?"

"In the shield?"

"I mean, you want to keep it, right?" Ruby asked. "Just because it isn't broken doesn't mean you can't upgrade it at the same time as you're reforging your sword."

Jaune thought about that for a moment. Flash used dust in his shield; he'd seen it in combat class: he used lightning to shock opponents through their weapons. It didn't always work — for one thing, it relied upon his opponent touching his shield long enough for him to set off the lightning, and for another thing, it really, really backfired when he went up against Nora — but it was an effective tool in the Altesian's arsenal.

Jaune wasn't sure that it was really him, however. Admittedly, he wasn't certain yet what was him, but still … it didn't feel like him. The shield was a weapon, true, but that kind of weapon?

It occurred to him that if he didn't know what kind of a fighter he was yet, he could at least think about what kind of a fighter he wanted to be: someone who could hold his own at Pyrrha's side and cover her flank if necessary.

"What about hardlight dust?" he asked. "I could expand my shield, maybe, get better coverage out of it, maybe big enough that the rest of you could shelter behind it if you had to."

"That's a cool idea," Ruby said. "But hardlight dust is really hard to come by. I thought about using hardlight dust rounds in Crescent Rose once — I thought I might get better penetration than regular rounds — and Uncle Qrow told me that Atlas makes it really hard to export to the other kingdoms; even the SDC has a hard time selling any of it. Apparently, unless you know someone from Atlas who can get it to you discreetly, you have to buy it directly from the SDC and pay through the nose for it."

"That sucks," Jaune said. "Why do they do that?"

"It's the rarest kind of dust, and really useful for science, I think," Ruby replied. "They don't want to run out."

"Makes sense, I guess," Jaune murmured. He considered asking one of Team RSPT to help him get his hands on some hardlight dust, but he didn't really know any of them that well — he wasn't as close to them as Sunset, or even Ruby — and besides, they wouldn't be around next year. "Is gravity dust hard to come by?"

"Kind of, not as much as hardlight," Ruby replied. "Why?"

"I was thinking about how you and me and Pyrrha have moves where you springboard off my shield," Jaune said. "And I thought, what if I had gravity dust in my shield? I could maybe launch you further."

Ruby grinned. "Yeah, yeah, you sure could," she said, amusement in her voice. "You'd have to be careful not to overdo it, though."

It took Jaune a moment to work out what she meant. "Oh God!" he exclaimed. The vision of Pyrrha disappearing out of sight into the air was at once both horrifying and hilarious. "Yeah, let… let's not do that," he said. "In fact, why don't we leave the shield for now? So, what do you think: gun or dust?"

"Dust," Ruby said.

"That was a quick answer from someone who uses a gun," Jaune pointed out.

"Learning how to shoot well is a skill," Ruby said. "Learning how to shoot well with something that doesn't have a gun grip, or a stock, or any kind of sights, is much, much harder. It's amazing Dove doesn't miss with at least nine out of ten of his shots. Use dust, and if you use the right kind of dust, the accuracy — or lack of it — won't be such a big deal. Plus — again, with the right kind of dust — you'll get a lot more power from it than you will with the kind of gun you could build into your sword."

"Okay, dust it is then," Jaune agreed. "Leaving aside what kind of dust for a second, because I've got some thoughts on that—"

"What thoughts?"

"Ice," Jaune said. "Fire. The usual ones, seeing as how it seems all the unusual ones are hard to get and difficult to use."

"You won't have to worry about the dust store not having what you need," Ruby agreed. "But you were saying?"

"I was just going to ask what that might look like," Jaune said.

Ruby smiled as she began to draw. "I think it could look something like this."

XxXxX​

"Mister Tukson?" Sunset called as she walked into the library. "Mister Tukson, are you still here?"

It occurred to her that he might have gone back to his bookshop already; after all, with Adam dead and the White Fang a shadow of what it once was, there wasn't exactly the need for him to stick around at Beacon any more.

Certainly, the library seemed to be empty at the moment. There was no one in the stacks, there was no one at the terminals or at the tables, there was no one … anywhere that Sunset could see. Even the lights failed to turn on as she walked in, although that was because it was daylight, and there was plenty of, well, day light streaming in through the great windows.

Sunset adjusted her grip on her bag, with the books that she had borrowed to take to Alba Longa. Without someone around, it was going to be difficult to access the records she needed; it wasn't as though just any student could look at who had borrowed what books going back years into the past.

Fortunately, a voice replied, "Hang on a second, I'll be right with you." A moment later, Tukson emerged from out of the back, carrying a ledger in one hand. "Miss Shimmer? Something I can help you with? Or did you just come to return those books you borrowed earlier?"

"I have them right here," Sunset said, opening up her bag with one hand as she walked towards him, "but no, that's not why I'm here."

Tukson put his ledger down on the desk in front of him, separating himself from Sunset. "Okay then," he said, "what can I do for you?"

"There are records of borrowings, right?" Sunset asked, as she approached the desk. "There are records of who borrowed what book, or rather records of what books were borrowed by which student?"

"Sure," Tukson agreed. "Otherwise, how would the school know who to fine for not returning books on time? Why?"

"I'm hoping that I can look at those records and see which books were borrowed by a certain student," Sunset said. "This would be a while back, about two generations ago."

Tukson's eyebrows rose. "'Two generations'? What would you be interested in borrowings from the library way back then for?"

"Because I know that they were looking for something, and I know that they … they certainly thought that they found something, and if I look in the same places that they did, then maybe I can find it too," Sunset explained.

"That's kind of light on detail," Tukson remarked.

"I'm light on evidence at the moment," Sunset said. "But I'd better be on the right track because it's the only track I've got to follow right now."

Tukson reached up to scratch the gap between his eyebrows. "You know, those records from that far back won't be computerised," he said. "Do you have a year you want to look at?"

Sunset did not, in fact, have a year that she wanted to look at, but one thing that had been computerised were the enrolment records going all the way back to the foundation of Beacon, so it was pretty easy to find the years that Carrot Arc and Crown D'Eath had attended Beacon — Team CCDN, pronounced 'Carcharodon' apparently — which at least narrowed it down a little bit.

Which was to say that it narrowed it down enough for Tukson to drop a stack of dusty old ledgers he had pulled from the back room down in front of her and tell her to knock herself out.

Evidently, he wasn't going to help, for which Sunset couldn't exactly blame him. It was an odd thing to be doing, to an outside observer.

It would probably seem a little odd to someone who knew what she was about, to be honest.

But Lady Nikos had dealt fairly with her, and while he might not explicitly want to know about his ancestry, Sunset couldn't believe that Jaune would be unhappy to learn where his family came from.

And besides … she was pretty curious herself, at this point. While he might not have been the very best of men, Crown D'Eath had found something about his partner that he considered important, that he had believed in. Something that Carrot Arc had believed in too and been determined to keep secret.

Sunset didn't want to just walk away from that with the mystery unresolved. She wanted to get to the bottom of it. She wanted to find the answers, if only for her own personal satisfaction.

And so she trawled the old ledgers of borrowed books — she really hoped that Crown D'Eath had checked them out; if he had simply read them in the library, then she'd be up the creek — looking for the name of Crown D'Eath.

At last, she found it — having checked out a bestiary of grimm, presumably for his Grimm Studies class.

Sunset kept looking. There were a lot of records and a lot of books; names passed before her in long rows, all the students who had come before. As she read their names, as she read the titles of the books that they had checked out — books about grimm, books about myths and fairytales, books about history, books about plants — Sunset wondered how many of them had known the truth, as she and her teammates knew the truth. Which of them had been recruited by Professor Ozpin to help him in his fight against Salem and which of them had passed through Beacon ignorant of the true nature of the struggle consuming and convulsing Remnant.

She noted the name of Auburn at one point, a reminder to go and speak to Professor Ozpin about Maidens at some point.

Most of the books checked out by Crown D'Eath were quite ordinary, the same sort of books that numerous students checked out to help with their schoolwork. However, after a not inconsiderable period of looking, Sunset did come across one entry that struck her as a little unusual: A Compendium of Notable Weapons and their Deeds.

Now, it was possible that this was for a history assignment of some kind, but — while admittedly Doctor Oobleck wouldn't have been teaching the course then, and Sunset didn't know how whoever had held the chair then had approached the subject — it didn't seem to fit with the way that history was taught at Beacon, albeit if this had been Haven Academy, she might have believed that it was for classwork.

But as this was Beacon, Sunset did not believe it. And besides, she recalled that it was Crocea Mors that had first started Crown D'Eath off upon his own search for the truth.

So Sunset sought out the book and counted herself fortunate that it was still in the library; judging by the amount of dust on it as she pulled it off the shelf — it made her sneeze a couple of times — it didn't get read very often; it would have been just her luck if it had been got rid of.

She took it back to her table, opened it up from the back and scanned the index to find the entry for Crocea Mors.

Sunset had already know that Crocea Mors was the name of a famous sword: the sword of Jaune of Gaunt, fourth son of King Edward Farstrider — the king whom Olivia, of the eponymous song, had been in love with; in fact, according to legend, it was Olivia who had placed the sword in Jaune's hand and knighted him.

Sunset had already known that. What she had not been expecting was to turn to the page and see a drawing that looked exactly like Jaune's sword. Or at least, that looked exactly as Jaune's sword had looked before it had been broken. The length, the shape, the hilt — the hilt was the most telling thing, to Sunset's mind; swords might come in similar shapes and sizes depending on the type of sword they were, but you would expect hilts to have a little more variety about them. But this … she might have been looking at Jaune's sword.

She was looking at Jaune's sword: the sword of Jaune of Gaunt and the lately broken sword of Jaune Arc.

The illustration was accompanied by a potted biography which ended by concluding that the sword had been lost during the Anarchy that followed the death of King Aethelred.

Someone — and Sunset had a good idea who — had scrawled underneath the words In the family all this time.

So … Crown D'Eath discovers that Carrot's sword has the same name as this famous blade, and he must have seen illustrations of the famous Crocea Mors before, and rushes off to confirm that they are — to his satisfaction, at least — the same weapon.

And this makes him try and break up Carrot and his Mistralian girlfriend and then go on a killing spree.

No, it makes him kill the girl and a Councillor.

And just like that, all the pieces fell together in Sunset's mind.

Crown D'Eath, moody, bitter, obsessed with the past and with the lost glories of his noble family, Crown D'Eath who lamented the downfall of the monarchy, Crown D'Eath had killed one councillor and probably intended to kill others and create a power vacuum.

And he had murdered Delphi because she was not worthy to be consort to the rightful King of Vale.

XxXxX​

Pyrrha remained upon the cliffs.

Yang had gone. With good fortune, she had gone to reconcile with Ruby, or at the very least, she had gone to wait for Ruby's apology in a better frame of mind and heart than she had been in before.

In any case, she had gone, but Pyrrha remained.

She remained upon the cliffs, with her long red ponytail dancing behind her as the breeze blew in from the Emerald Forest, kissing her face and her bare shoulders.

She remained upon the cliffs and looked out, across the forest, across the world, and pondered upon her situation.

What could she do? What could she do about Phoebe and her allegations, about her feelings of … inadequacy, about all of this?

What could she do?

Phoebe — assuming it was Phoebe, and while she had not quite admitted as much, she could not be said to have gone out of her way to deny it either — had alleged these things about her. Kendal, Arslan, they had both asked Pyrrha what she intended to do about it, but … what could she do? Phoebe had admitted nothing, and even if she had admitted it, to challenge her … it could easily be thought to be the act of a guilty person.

A denial would be pro forma, expected.

What could she do then, save hope that those — like Ren and Nora — would judge her by her deeds and not the words of…?

Judge me by my deeds.

Pyrrha's brow furrowed. Could it … could it be so simple? Had the answer been staring her in the face this entire time?

Have I been such a fool?

No, not a fool — although Sunset will call me a fool, no doubt, when she hears what I have in mind — say rather that I have been too little of a Mistralian to see the answer right before my eyes.

I have been … I have been too concerned to be ordinary, and yet, I am not ordinary. I am Pyrrha Nikos, and I have a claim upon the old ways if any have such.

And yet, for all that she could explain it, nevertheless, the answer seemed now to her so simple that she did feel a little obtuse for having missed it previously.

Or perhaps I was not desperate enough to take it previously.

Phoebe alleged that Pyrrha and Cinder were in cahoots, in league together, allies; Cinder haunted Pyrrha's mind, the memory of their battle under Mountain Glenn had shaken her; many things had shaken Pyrrha; she was no longer certain that her skill at arms was sufficient to avail her in this great struggle.

What, then, to do? Why, bind them together and slice through the whole knot of them at once. Prove Phoebe wrong, prove to herself that she had a place in all this, exorcise Cinder from her spirit … and from life itself.

Jaune … she had already broken her promise to Jaune once.

But, if she spoke to him about it before she did it, he was sure that he would understand.

She had hope that he would understand.

At the same time, she was rather glad she hadn't thought of this in Kendal's presence, for she had a feeling that Jaune's sister would not have understood.

If I am Pyrrha Nikos, I will triumph.

Pyrrha looked down. The cliff fell away beneath her, down and down to the forest below.

She was poised to leap from it, for what rewards awaited her on the other side.

Pyrrha turned away from the cliffs, turning her back upon the physical leap in favour of the spiritual, and got her scroll out of one of the pouches on her belt.

She called her mother. It took her but a few moments to answer.

"Pyrrha," Mother said, "I did not expect to hear from you again so soon."

"No, Mother, but I have had a thought," Pyrrha said. "I would like you to cease your legal action against the Daily Remnant; a victory in the courts will convince no one."

Mother's eyes narrowed. "This insult must be answered."

"And it will be, in the old way," Pyrrha said. "I will answer these allegations, and much else, in a way that proves their falsehood beyond doubt.

"I mean to publicly challenge Cinder to single combat."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Why We Keep Secrets

​

Mother was silent for a moment, looking up at Pyrrha from out of the screen of her scroll. "I see," she murmured.

"But you do not approve," Pyrrha said, in a tone that was equally soft.

"I question the practicality," Mother replied. "We are, after all, discussing some variety of brigand. What makes you think she will accept this challenge? Or is to make the challenge the entire purpose, with no expectation that it will be answered? Because if that be the case, I fear you may only make yourself look foolish."

"Cinder will accept," Pyrrha insisted. "She is a Mistralian, and steeped in the old ways, and…"

Mother's brow furrowed. "'And'?" she repeated.

"And she bears me animus," Pyrrha explained. "She … hates me, I believe. She will not refuse a chance to kill me."

"I see," Mother whispered. "Is she skilled, this Cinder Fall?"

"She is ferocious," Pyrrha allowed. "I would not call her skilled."

Mother hesitated for a moment, and Pyrrha could feel through the scroll the question that was not said, the question that her mother wished to ask but could not ask: Can you win?

But, in the end, her mother did not ask; either she feared to seem as though she doubted her daughter, or else her pride in Pyrrha was too great to acknowledge the possibility that Pyrrha might not win…

Or else that was not the question that had lingered upon the tip of her tongue, and Pyrrha had only thought that it might be.

"You are my only child," Mother said. "My heir, the last of our line-"

"And I will be your only child when this is done," Pyrrha declared. "I will be the last of our line still until I have a child by Jaune, as I mean to. Mother, I do not take this step to throw away my life. There is peril in it, true, but there is peril in many things in the life of a huntress. I take this step… because I would be shamed, before the great-hearted Mistralians, if I did nothing."

"Shame," Mother murmured. "I see. You believe that by this gesture, you will effectively silence all those who dare to speak of collusion between the two of you?"

"I am under no illusions," Pyrrha said. "There will always be malcontents who dislike me, who envy me, who wish to see me … cut down to size. But for the rest, for those who judge with their eyes and with their minds … I do not see how it can be denied that these are falsehoods."

"Some may argue that you have staged a battle to exonerate yourself."

"When one of us stands and the other falls, no one will call that staged," Pyrrha said, quietly but firmly all the same.

Mother gave a slight nod of her head. "I am … surprised," she said. "I would not have expected such … I would not have expected this."

"Am I become more the daughter that you wished in your eyes?" Pyrrha asked and could not keep a touch of bitterness entering her voice.

"Is that what you think?" Mother replied. "That I wished that you were otherwise?"

"Is it not so?" Pyrrha said.

Mother did not reply, either to say yes or no, which to Pyrrha's mind was an answer, even if it were not the answer that she wished to receive.

"Very well," Mother said. "I will cease the legal action — although I may hold off on doing so until I have extracted a retraction from them. You are right that it will have no discernible impact upon opinion, but it would stick in my craw to simply leave the matter uncontested. If that meets with your approval."

Pyrrha's eyebrows rose beneath her circlet. "I was not aware that your actions required my approval, Mother."

"You have made clear that you intend to handle this yourself," Mother said. "I wouldn't want to get in your way."

Pyrrha was shocked into silence by that. Mother had never spoken to her like that before, never shown that much trust in her before.

That, as far as she was concerned, was proof that she had always wanted Pyrrha to behave like this, or at least more like this, whatever Mother might say to the contrary.

"The threat … may remain," she allowed. She agreed with Mother; she didn't like the idea of the article standing as it was, however unlikely any kind of retraction was to change any minds.

"Very well," Mother said. "In that case, I will leave the matter in your hands, Pyrrha." She was silent for a moment. "Good fortune attend you, and Victory shower you with her blessings. And take, also, a mother's blessing on your arms."

Pyrrha bowed her head. "Thank you, Mother."

"Always be the best, the bravest," Mother said, citing the unimpeachable authority of The Mistraliad, "and hold your head up high above all others."

I will discover … perhaps not if I am the best, Pyrrha thought, but I will at least be able to hold my head up once again.

"Words I will always endeavour to live up to," Pyrrha said. "Goodbye, Mother."

She hung up and lowered her scroll down to her side, letting her arms hang loosely on either side of her. She raised her head up to the sky and let a sigh escape her.

Now came the harder task: telling Sunset and Jaune about what she planned to do.

XxXxX​

Sunset looked down at the page, with Crown D'Eath's handwritten scribble underneath the closing paragraph.

He had certainly believed it. He had come here, he had compared the picture of a sword to the actual sword wielded by his friend, and he had believed that they were one and the same.

More than that, he had believed that it was proof that Carrot Arc was the rightful King of Vale.

Well, perhaps that was making the man seem more deranged than was warranted — although given what he'd done with this information… — if Sunset were to look at what other books he'd checked out of the library, and she meant to do just that, she would probably find that he had at least attempted to trace the descent of Jaune of Gaunt in some way that would connect him to the Arc family. Although how he had done that, considering the desire of Bohemund Arc — had Arc even been his name before he walked out of the woods and founded Alba Longa? Had his parents even named him Bohemund? — to shut the book on his past, Sunset couldn't say.

She was not entirely sure that she wanted to know.

It was funny; she had suggested this idea as a joke. The two swords had the same name, so wouldn't it be funny if it turned out that they were, in fact, the same sword? Wouldn't it be funny if Jaune were the heir to the throne of Vale, the way that Pyrrha was the heir to Mistral?

Wouldn't it be funny?

It was funny, of course, to the extent that it was actually funny, because it was ridiculous. So ridiculous, in fact, that despite her words at the spa, Sunset would never have dared suggest the idea to Lady Nikos. It was absurd to think that Jaune Arc — plain, ordinary Jaune Arc — could be a secret king in hiding. Pyrrha at least had the manners of a princess, the grace and bearing, the courtesy, but Jaune … he was just so normal, so ordinary, it defied belief that he could be more than what he seemed, more than what he was.

Not that there was anything wrong with being ordinary, but one hoped — or certainly, Sunset hoped — that those who were touched by royal blood, those whose brows were graced by a crown, or at least were fitted by their birth and heritage to be so, might be something a little more.

Wouldn't it be funny?

No, as it turned out, no, it wouldn't.

Not least because someone had believed in this so strongly that they'd gone out and committed two murders in consequence and had to be put down like a dog by their best friend, which kind of sucked a lot of the humour out of the situation.

It left Sunset feeling a little queasy, to tell the truth.

One might say, of course, and rightly so, that that was just the action of one man, one bitter, lonely man who had — by the testimony of his own friend and partner — not been in the best state of mind to begin with. Everyone knew about Pyrrha's heritage and nobody had yet gone on a killing spree to try and put her on the throne.

And if one were to say that, Sunset would have to concede that it was fair enough.

Yet even so…

She supposed that she ought to have expected that it would be something like this. It would, after all, have to be something pretty big to drive one man to kill, to drive another to be desperate to keep it a secret. A shady past might make one ashamed, the revelation that your ancestor had been a brigand, a cutthroat, or a pirate might make you desperate to bury the past, but if someone did happen to find out those things, they would hardly drive them to try and break you up with the girl you loved, to kill that girl when persuasion didn't work, and then turn those weapons upon an elected Councillor.

Although that did raise the question of why Carrot Arc had been so adamant about wanting Crown to keep it quiet. Why? Why had it bothered him so?

Just as importantly, had his grandfather known when he decided to leave his past behind?

Sunset doubted that she would ever know the answer to that — so perhaps it wasn't that important — but if she had to make a guess on the first question … that was also difficult. Perhaps he simply didn't want the fuss? Perhaps he wanted a normal life, a life where he was free to go about his business, to do as he wished without people expecting something of him, wanting something of him, requiring something of him? To be free to court Delphi without people insisting that she wasn't good enough for him.

Perhaps he really didn't want the throne and hadn't wanted any excuse for anyone to offer it to him. Perhaps he believed in democracy and wanted to give it a chance to flourish without a king in waiting hanging around like a bad smell.

Perhaps he had been worried about what people might do to keep him off the throne, even if he had not foreseen what Crown would do to get him onto it.

Perhaps … Sunset was a monarchist — she believed in monarchy — but at the same time, she could not help but recall the times when she had stood at Princess Celestia's side during the Grand Galloping Gala and noticed, as no one who was not as close to the princess as she had been would notice, the tiredness on her face, the weariness in her eyes as she greeted an endless parade of little ponies come to kiss her hoof.

Indeed, for all that there could have been and could be no better ruler for Equestria than Princess Celestia, nevertheless, Sunset had sometimes thought that her old teacher did not actually enjoy the exercise of government very much. Perhaps Carrot Arc had had a vision of his future and recoiled from it.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps; all unknowables, the secrets of the souls of men long dead and dust.

Sunset could not say what they had intended, these men who had lived generations earlier.

Nor, more to the point, could she say entirely what she intended now.

Of course, this was not proof. It was a drawing of a sword, a drawing made when the sword itself had been lost — although the accuracy of the drawing suggested it was based on earlier illustrations drawn from the life — and, thanks to Cinder, Crocea Mors would probably not resemble itself quite so much when it had been reforged.

And even if one were satisfied that they were, in fact, the same sword, well, it was a sword, after all. Sunset bore Soteria, but that did not make her a Nikos or a Kommenos. Blades could pass from one hand to the other; who was to say how the Arcs had come by it? It would take more than that to prove that Jaune Arc was the descendant of Jaune of Gaunt, and even if he were, the Gaunt claim to the Valish throne — resting as it did upon the marriage of Gaunt's son, Hal, to his cousin Philippa, a granddaughter of Edward Farstrider via his second son, Lionel, thus making Hal and Philippa's son a descendant of King Edward from both his second and fourth sons — had been contested even when it had been pressed, and there was no legal or historical consensus on whether or not descent through the female line 'counted' in succession terms.

But, with the throne vacant, the last king having died childless after already renouncing his power, and with all of the possible claimants being what one might call tenuous in their claims, one could do worse than a descendant of Edward Farstrider, the first king of a united Vale.

But still, not proof. Sunset found herself hoping that Crown D'Eath had found something more than this, if only because a drawing of a sword was a poor reason to take two lives.

She checked the ledgers, sweeping over the pages looking for further instances of Crown D'Eath's name.

As she had suspected, he had looked at genealogies, no doubt tracing the descent of the line of Gaunt and seeing if he could make it meet up in the middle with the line of Arc … somehow.

Presumably, he had done that to his own satisfaction, and done so to sufficient extent that Carrot Arc's reaction had been to tell him to keep it to himself instead of laughing it off or pointing out mistakes.

Nevertheless, Sunset wasn't sure that she wanted to know exactly how he had done that.

Just as she wasn't sure what she was going to do next.

Jaune Arc, the heir to the throne of Vale.

Possibly, at least. Maybe more than possibly, if she were to look into it as Crown had, if she were to retrace his steps up to the point there started to be blood in the footprints.

And then what? Tell Lady Nikos? That, after all, was the entire point of the exercise. Not to put Jaune on the throne, not to satisfy Sunset's curiosity, not to tell Jaune himself anything about his past, but to prove to Lady Nikos that here was a man whose birth made him worthy of her daughter.

Tell Lady Nikos that a sword, and a drawing of a sword, and possibly some genealogical research made Jaune a claimant to the Valish throne. And then … what? Sunset was not above the idea of a little deception of Lady Nikos for the sake of Jaune and Pyrrha — she owed Lady Nikos much, and liked her more than Pyrrha did, but she owed more loyalty to Pyrrha and Jaune than she did to her noble patron, and in any case, she thought that a lie that would help Lady Nikos save face in the salons and drawing rooms of Mistral, a lie that would help her retreat from her hostility to Jaune with some shreds of dignity intact, was precisely what Lady Nikos had been looking for — but she would not have told this particular lie, for all that she joked about it. She would not have told that lie because it was too obvious a lie, the sort of lie that would be instantly disbelieved by all, the sort of lie that would compound Lady Nikos' humiliations in society instead of relieving them.

The sort of lie that would not help matters.

Truth though it might be, Sunset couldn't see how this would help matters either. Yes, if Jaune had a claim on the Valish throne, that would make him a fitting consort to the Princess Without a Crown, but the problem was that … well, it sounded like a lie. It sounded like a barefaced lie, the kind that provoked instant scepticism.

Which meant it sort of defeated the object of the exercise.

What was Sunset supposed to do? Tell Lady Nikos, who could tell it to all her friends — or at least her acquaintances amongst Mistral's noble families — and then have Jaune's life and the lives of his family turned upside down as people turned over his family history to confirm it?

A fine team leader she would be to subject him to that.

It occurred to Sunset that, if more people did head up to Alba Longa and start poking around Jaune's family history, then there was a chance that Ruben's faked photos and the whole business of Pyrrha apparently kissing another man might come out.

After all, recent events were proving that there was some audience for people who wanted a reason or an excuse to think ill of Pyrrha.

The more Sunset thought about it, the more Sunset found that there were plenty of reasons to keep quiet about all of this and, really, very few reasons not to.

Saying anything, even if she were to wait until she had as much evidence as Crown D'Eath had had … what good would it do Jaune, or Pyrrha, or even Lady Nikos?

It might help Jaune to be known as somebody when he and Pyrrha inevitably went to live in Mistral, but again, to be known as someone who had tried to pretend to be somebody might be even worse than being thought a nobody.

And that was even without getting into the issue of just to what extent, if at all, Lady Nikos deserved to have her pride salved in such a way after how she'd behaved.

Sunset blinked. That was definitely a Pyrrha thought, one left over from Sunset's use of her semblance upon her.

Even so, what was not a Pyrrha thought was the possibility that, Pyrrha having made her choice, Lady Nikos should just accept it with as much grace as she could muster. Sometimes, after all, you simply had to bow before the inevitable, and the love that Pyrrha had for Jaune, the love that they shared, was as inevitable as the tide.

And that was before you circled right back around to the fact that someone had killed over this. Someone had killed, and someone had died.

At some point, the footsteps she was following had blood in them.

Sunset was Lady Nikos' … her client, you might say, after the old meaning. Lady Nikos was her patron and her benefactor. But Jaune and Pyrrha were Sunset's teammates and her friends; she was their leader, and she was bound to them by ties of loyalty, honour, one might even say duty.

One might say that she had already taken her loyalty to Jaune and Pyrrha too far, but that being the case, taking it to the extent of keeping this little secret didn't seem like such a big deal.

In fact, it seemed downright harmless. Especially when one considered the alternative.

Pyrrha had not fallen in love with a prince. Well, quite possibly she had, and even moreso when you added in the possible metaphorical meanings of the word, but leave that alone for now, and just … she hadn't fallen in love with a prince, okay? She had fallen in love with a nice boy, who she thought maybe could be a prince with her help.

That was all she wanted, and it wasn't as if Jaune was consumed with a burning desire to know all the secrets of his past either.

If neither of them wanted to know, then … what profit in bringing it up?

And when you considered that the generations of Arc men who came before had intentionally — in Carrot's case, at least, Bohemund's motives being opaque — wanted to keep this a secret, well then … who was Sunset Shimmer to argue?

It wasn't as though she was committed to the principle of absolute truth, after all. She had no issue with secrets; she only disagreed with whether some secrets ought to be kept.

That being the case…

Sunset shut the book. Let it lie and let Lady Nikos suffer her disappointment. No doubt, like a true aristocrat, she would bear it stoically.

Else Sunset would have to bear her disappointment.

She put the book back on the shelf, put the ledgers back where Tukson could find them, and stepped outside to get out her scroll.

Sunset was about to call Lady Nikos, when she started to wonder if it might seem a little premature. After all, it had only been this morning that she had told Lady Nikos that she still had leads to pursue.

So she would let it lie for a little while, and then tell Lady Nikos that she had come up empty.

That way she wouldn't be seen — or presumed — to have intentionally slacked off.

She kept her scroll out, though, because there was someone else, another keeper of secrets, to whom she wanted to send a message.

Sunset opened up her device and messaged Professor Ozpin, asking if the team might not have a moment of his time that evening.

XxXxX​

"Hello again," Pyrrha said, as she stepped through the doorway and back into the dorm room.

"Hey, Pyrrha," Ruby said from where she and Jaune sat at the desk that ran along the wall; their heads had been bowed, huddled together upon their work, but now, Ruby looked up at her. "How did it go with Yang?"

Pyrrha blinked. "She hasn't been to see you?"

Ruby's face fell. "No. No, she hasn't."

"In which case, she's probably waiting for you to apologise," Pyrrha said. "And … in all honesty, Ruby, it's hard to argue that you shouldn't, but I'm sure that she will be in a receptive mood to hear your apology."

"But I still have to say I'm sorry," Ruby muttered.

"You did keep some things from her which she had a right to know," Pyrrha pointed out.

"Only because Professor Ozpin—"

"I know," Pyrrha assured her. "I know, and I do not deny that you were put in a difficult position. But from Yang's perspective … I think that to come to you would be tantamount to an admission that she was wrong in her upset and her reactions, and that … that is not a step that she is prepared to take."

"Come on, Ruby," Jaune added. "Is it really that hard to tell her your sorry?"

"Just because it's easy doesn't mean that I like doing it," Ruby grumbled. "But … I guess it isn't. And you think if I do that then it'll all be over."

"I am sure it will," Pyrrha assured her. "Yang … your sister loves you very much."

Ruby nodded. "Okay then," she said. "I'll go and talk to her."

This apparently did not mean that she would go and talk to Yang right this instant, because she made no move to get up from her chair next to Jaune.

Pyrrha took a few more steps into the dorm room. "How are you two getting on?"

"Pretty well, I think," Jaune said, turning his chair around on the carpet so that he was facing her. "I'm going to keep my sword basically the way it is, so that all of the training that we've been doing so far isn't wasted, but I'm also going to incorporate dust to give myself more options."

"I see," Pyrrha said. "That makes sense."

She only used dust in the most ordinary way, as a propellant; she'd found that she had no more use for it than that, and in any case, it would have been very hard to incorporate additional uses into her fighting style; she couldn't imagine any way in which she could have used dust based on the way she fought now. But Jaune, still at the beginning of his journey as he was in so many ways, was still free to make that choice and make that move if he so wished, and since he was not so well trained as she was, the addition of dust's power — and its versatility — might be a boon for him.

"Are you going to augment the sword and the shield or just the sword?"

"Just the sword," Jaune explained. "I thought about upgrading the shield too, but it didn't really work out when we were throwing ideas around. But with Ruby's help, I think that I'll be able to use the sword to project fire dust, or ice, or the most common types of dust that I could get hold of easily and at the right price."

"You don't have to worry about the money," Pyrrha told him. "I could—"

"I don't want to mooch off you," Jaune said.

"We're in a relationship; it's hardly … mooching," Pyrrha said, the word sounding a little strange on her tongue.

"But the more expensive kinds of dust are also the harder to come by," Jaune pointed out. "I don't want to rely on something that I can't get hold of."

That was a very good point, a very wise point. "Yes, you're right, of course," Pyrrha said. In any case, she didn't want to push him on this particular subject, not when there might have to be some pushing of a different sort in just a moment.

She looked around the dorm room. There was no sign of Sunset, there was obviously no sign of Sunset, and yet in any case, Pyrrha asked, "Sunset isn't back yet?"

"No, not yet," Jaune said. "Did you want her?"

"Yes," Pyrrha admitted, "but it might be easier to begin without her." She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as much as her tight cuirass would allow. "After I spoke to Yang, I gave some thought to my situation with the allegations made by … by Phoebe."

"You agree that it was her?" Jaune asked.

"I ran into her on the way to speak to Yang," Pyrrha said.

"Did she admit it?" asked Ruby.

"Not in as many words," Pyrrha replied. "In any case, even if the allegations were made by someone else, it really doesn't matter, because I have decided what I am … what I can do about them."

"Really?" Ruby asked. "What is it?"

Pyrrha kept her eyes fixed on Jaune, even as her right hand began to play with the vambrace upon her left arm. "I … I intend … I mean to challenge Cinder, publicly, to single combat. This will, I hope, prove that we are not on the same side. How can we be, if I am willing to duel her to the death?"

She was quite glad that Sunset wasn't in the room at the moment — for all that it meant that she would have to do this over again — because she was reasonably certain that Sunset's reaction would have been very loud. Instead, in the dorm room at this moment, there was silence.

Although, as the silence went on, Pyrrha found that she wasn't sure if that was actually that much better.

"Jaune?" she murmured.

Jaune did not meet her eyes. He did, however, get to his feet. One hand rested upon the wooden surface of the desk.

"'Publicly'?" he repeated. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Pyrrha replied, "that I'm going to make a video containing my challenge — as well as a denial of all the allegations — and ask for Arslan's help getting it on the news. She has a few media connections that I'm hoping she will let me make use of."

"In Vale?" asked Jaune.

"No, in Mistral," Pyrrha said. "It's important — to me, at least — that people in my home know what I have done and how I have responded to this."

"That won't help it reach Cinder, though, will it?" Jaune pointed out.

The fact that he was concerned that her message might not reach its intended recipient gave Pyrrha hope that he was not completely and adamantly opposed to the idea.

"I was just going to send it to the news programs here in Vale and hope that they found it interesting enough to play it," she admitted. After all, as far as she was aware, Arslan didn't have any connections here in Vale, so there wasn't much else that she could do.

"They probably will," Jaune said quietly, "just because it's such a strange thing to happen. I mean, it's not very often these days that you get someone wanting to air their challenge to a duel on TV."

His words might have been amusing, but there was no trace of amusement in his voice. Overall, Pyrrha was left confused about what he thought.

"I … I know that I made you a promise," Pyrrha said, "and I know that if I were to have simply done this thing, then I would have been breaking that promise, but … two people cannot fight in single combat, any more than two people can fight in the one on one round of the Vytal Festival—"

"Nobody dies in the Vytal Festival. It's not the same thing."

The words, spoken in a harsh tone, did not come from Jaune. They came from Ruby.

Ruby, who was glaring at Pyrrha with her silver eyes, her silver eyes which shone brightly.

"Ruby—"

"I don't believe this," Ruby cut Pyrrha off, her voice rising. "After the way that you've treated me? After the way that you've talked to me?"

"Ruby—"

"All those times when I was willing to give my life, it was for something!" Ruby cried, leaping up off her seat. "It was for the greater good, it was for Vale, it was for innocent civilian lives; what are you prepared to die for, your pride? Your reputation?"

Pyrrha found herself forced to look away. There was, in truth, much force in Ruby's words; not enough force to sway her from her course, but enough to make her feel somewhat ashamed of herself and her past conduct.

"I have to do this," she said softly.

"Why?" Ruby demanded. "Why does it matter so much what other people think about you that you'd risk your life fighting Cinder, alone, when you don't have to?"

"Cinder is our enemy," Pyrrha pointed out. "If I have the opportunity to kill her—"

"Yes, we'd be better off if she were gone, and so would Remnant," Ruby agreed, "but you're not talking about hunting her down as a team, or even finding out where she is so that we can tell Professor Ozpin or General Ironwood and they can take care of her; you're talking about fighting her all by yourself. It's Mistr—" She cut herself off this time, covering her mouth with one hand.

Despite herself, Pyrrha found a slight smile playing upon the corners of her lips. "Don't hold back on my account," she said.

Ruby blinked. "It's Mistralian nonsense," she said.

"Yes, yes, I suppose it is," Pyrrha said. "Or at least, I suppose that many of our traditions must seem like nonsense to those who are not raised in them."

"It's a waste," Ruby insisted. "What you're talking about is just wasteful. It's one thing to die for something — that's something that we should all be ready to do as huntsmen — but to die for nothing? To die because you're too stubborn not to, because you're too proud … that's a waste of … of your life and of all the good that you could do."

"Did not Olivia die for her pride?" Pyrrha asked.

"Yes, but I never said that she was right about that; you just assumed I agreed with her and then gave me a hard time about it!" Ruby snapped.

"For which I owe you an apology, clearly," Pyrrha murmured, "but this isn't just about my pride, Ruby, or my reputation. If that were all that were at stake, then I would agree with you that it did not justify what I am proposing."

Ruby frowned. "Then what is it about?"

"Me," Pyrrha said. "My place in all of this and the feeling that I am … I don't belong here," she admitted.

Ruby's frown only deepened. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't have your silver eyes, with which you can vanquish whole grimm armies in a moment!" Pyrrha cried. "I don't have Sunset's magic, which seems to constantly grow stronger and more versatile. I do not even have a semblance which lets me act as an invaluable support to my teammates. I am … I am a warrior. A skilled warrior, perhaps, but what of that? It is clear why Professor Ozpin chose Sunset, why he chose you, but I … Professor Ozpin could find a dozen in the halls of this school who can do the things that I can do."

"You don't need magic to play your part," Ruby declared.

"With respect, Ruby, that is easy to say when you have magic," Pyrrha replied.

"The first Maidens didn't need magic to save the old wizard," Ruby pointed out.

"And then they were rewarded with great magical power so that they might save the world," Pyrrha responded. "But if there is one thing that I can do… if I can vanquish Salem's champion, then at least I will prove to myself I have a part to play. You speak of waste? The waste will be if I refuse an opportunity to lay these doubts to rest and instead let them fester until they consume me. Then I will be no good to you or anyone else."

Ruby was silent for a moment. "You … you really feel useless?"

"Or something close to it," Pyrrha said quietly.

"For how long?"

"It started after we found out the truth about Salem," Pyrrha replied. "It got worse after Mountain Glenn."

"I see," Ruby murmured. "I think you're wrong, but I see. But all the same—"

"I don't like this," Jaune said, cutting Ruby off, although whether that was his intent or it had simply taken him that long to find something to say, Pyrrha could not tell.

"Jaune?" Pyrrha murmured.

"I don't like this," Jaune repeated. He looked at her, his brow furrowed, his jaw set. "But … but you've always believed in me, so now … when you need someone to believe in you, how can I not be that person? If you think that you can beat Cinder one on one, then go for it. No one has the right to stand in your way."

It was the best response from him that she could have hoped for, and although Pyrrha had not been holding her breath, nevertheless, she felt a breath escaping her, a sigh of relief falling from her lips.

"Thank you," she whispered.

The door into the dorm room opened with a click, and the person who might feel as though she had a right to stand in Pyrrha's way walked in, head bowed, looking down at the scroll she was holding in one hand.

"Sunset," Pyrrha said.

Sunset glanced up at her, one hand reaching for the door. "Hey, Pyrrha," she muttered. "How, um, how did it go with Yang?"

"Well enough, I think," Pyrrha answered. "I believe that if Ruby—"

"Pyrrha's going to challenge Cinder to a duel!" Ruby cried.

"Ruby," Pyrrha murmured reproachfully, glancing at Ruby over her shoulder.

"I might not be able to talk you out of this, but Sunset can," Ruby declared.

Sunset herself slammed the door shut with an audible crack. "I must be getting wax in my ears," she said in a voice that was as sharp as Soteria, "because I could have sworn that I just heard Ruby say you were going to challenge Cinder to a duel. But that would be ridiculous, wouldn't it?"

"It … might seem so, if you were not a Mistralian," Pyrrha admitted, "but nevertheless, that is what I intend."

Sunset stared at her for a moment. Without breaking eye contact, she flung her scroll onto her bed, its contents seeming forgotten.

"You … you are going to challenge Cinder to fight you in a duel?" she repeated. "To the death, I presume."

"I am not sure she would accept any other form of duel," Pyrrha said. "And we are enemies, after all."

"I'm aware of that, that's why…" Sunset trailed off. "Why?"

"To prove to the world that she and I are not colluding together," Pyrrha said, "and to prove to myself that I can beat her."

"To prove … this is how you deal with your misgivings?"

"Can you think of a better way?" asked Pyrrha. "You cannot speak away my doubts, but victory … victory will exorcise them all. If I can best her, I need not doubt my worth. If Cinder is worthy to serve Salem and I am her superior in arms, then … how can my right be doubted?"

"None doubt it now but you," Sunset pointed out.

"None need be more free of doubt in this than I," Pyrrha replied.

Sunset frowned. "How are you even—?"

"I will issue my challenge publicly, on the news," Pyrrha said. "An unorthodox way of delivering it, to be sure, but I feel it will reach Cinder, and once it reaches her, she will respond."

"Yes, yes, she certainly will," Sunset murmured. "This … this is madness. You must realise that, please, tell me that you realise that; I mean … what do you think this is, The Mistraliad?"

"You have yourself—"

"This isn't like fighting Bolin in the arena over who gets to keep a sword, or the two of us settling our differences while Professor Goodwitch plays referee; we're talking about life or death here!" Sunset yelled. "Your life … your … your death, maybe."

"I intend to return alive and victorious," Pyrrha murmured.

"But you can't guarantee that you will."

"Nothing is certain in battle, no," Pyrrha admitted.

Sunset walked towards her, swiftly closing the distance between them until she could reach out and placed her gloved hands on Pyrrha's bare shoulders.

The silk was soft on Pyrrha's skin.

Sunset's eyes were wide as she looked into Pyrrha's face. "She hates you," she whispered. "I have felt her hatred for you."

"And that hatred is why I shall win," Pyrrha declared. "Cinder is … strong, yes, swift, undoubtedly, but she has had no training, that is certain. She fights … clumsily, brutally, without skill, and only the fact that she is so strong and so swift allows her to get away with it. But I have been trained by Chiron himself; I am the Champion of Mistral." For a few more days yet; this year's tournament would be starting very soon, and she would lose the right to that proud boast forever. "In the open field, with no tricks that she can play, I will prevail."

'Virtue 'gainst Fury shall advance the fight,

And in the combat then shall put to flight,

For the ancient valous is not dead,

Nor in Mistralian hearts extinguished.'

I hope it will be so, at least.

Sunset turned away from her, her tail swishing and flicking behind her. "I must confess, that is more thought than I thought you had put into this," she conceded.

"I don't know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult," Pyrrha said.

Sunset ignored that, cupping her chin with one hand. "I … I don't want to lose you," she said, half turning her head to glance at Pyrrha over her shoulder. "But … but, as someone once reminded me not too long ago, people have the right to make their own stupid choices, don't they, Ruby?"

Ruby made a wordless grumbling sound.

"Mmm, yeah," Sunset said. She turned back to face Pyrrha once again. "But," she said, "it may be that I — that we — do not have the right to stop you. But you have pledged yourself into Professor Ozpin's service; you are at his disposal. He at least should be informed of this, don't you think?"

Because if you can't stop me, then he can? Pyrrha thought. Nevertheless, whatever her particular motives might be for this, Sunset was not wrong. She did owe Professor Ozpin her service, which meant that she owed him an explanation before she took this step.

"Very well," she said. "I will speak to Professor Ozpin."

"You can do it tonight," Sunset said, waving one hand, wreathed in green light, as she summoned her scroll off the bed and into her hand. "By a stroke of luck, he has agreed to meet with us."

"To discuss the Maidens?" Pyrrha asked.

"He doesn't know that yet, but yes," Sunset agreed. "Except now you'll have something else to discuss with him also."

XxXxX​

"I don't know whether you'll be glad to know this, although you might be," Sunset said as the elevator ascended upwards, "but I've stopped looking into your family, Jaune."

The lift continued to rise, carrying the four members of Team SAPR up towards Professor Ozpin's office. The headmaster had agreed to see them with … well, perhaps it wasn't remarkable alacrity, but he had certainly shown a surprising willingness, considering that Sunset hadn't even told him what it was that they wanted to see him about.

He might not feel so willing to talk once they actually got up there and he found out what it was that they wanted to talk about.

Either of the things they wanted to talk about.

But for now, the lift rose up, carrying the four of them within it.

Sunset and Pyrrha stood at the front, with Ruby and Jaune behind; Sunset looked over her shoulder at Jaune, to see how he was taking the news.

He didn't look particularly upset about it, although he did look a little confused. "But, I thought you said—"

"It didn't pan out," Sunset told him. "I thought that there would be something, a trail to follow, but … there wasn't." She smirked. "It turns out that you are depressingly ordinary."

"'Ordinary'?" Pyrrha repeated, reaching behind her to take Jaune's hand. "No, hardly that."

"Would you prefer 'unremarkable'?" Sunset asked.

Pyrrha looked at her, eyebrows rising into the recesses of her bangs.

"Just kidding," Sunset assured. "Nevertheless, the point is … there was nothing to find. You don't have a notable ancestry that I can uncover."

"Except for the fact that your father and grandfather were both huntsmen," Ruby pointed out. "And your great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather both fought to defend the Kingdom of Vale. That's not nothing. In fact, I'd say that's pretty cool. Cooler than having rich ancestors or snob ancestors or anything like that. No offence, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha chuckled. "None taken, Ruby; I think that many of my ancestors would agree with you; that is why we of the Nikos family have always striven to earn our great privilege and high status through service in war." She paused for a moment. "But Ruby speaks the truth, even before you also consider that your great-grandfather founded a town, brought a whole community together."

"Did he?" Ruby asked. "You didn't tell me that."

Jaune shrugged. "It didn't come up."

"The point is that you already have plenty of family history to be proud of," Ruby insisted. "And if Pyrrha's mom can't see that, then—"

"My mother may feel as she likes," Pyrrha declared. "As may I. To be honest, I hope you don't mind me saying that I'm rather glad that things have turned out this way."

"'Glad'?" Jaune asked.

Pyrrha paused for a moment. "This … this may sound a little petty of me," she confessed, "but I would have, not hated it, but I would certainly have been a little vexed if you had turned out to have a claim upon some ancient lordship or the like, if your family heritage had been such that my mother could have approved of. It would have felt a little as though she had won."

Despite the fact that, by that logic, there was a sense in which Lady Nikos had won — not that she would ever be aware of it — Sunset couldn't help but snort. "Would that have been such a bad thing?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said softly. "Yes, I rather think it would. Mother … my mother needs to accept my choice. My choice over my life and to whom I give my heart. Having you fortuitously discover for her that my choice aligned with her desires all along would…"

"Defeat the object?" Sunset suggested.

"Jaune is not an object," Pyrrha replied.

"No," Sunset agreed. "No, he isn't."

Nevertheless, she felt as though she understood Pyrrha's meaning, even if the latter couldn't quite put it into words.

She returned her attention to Jaune, "So, how do you feel about this? I'm sorry I couldn't give you a title or a claim on a pile of treasure or something."

Jaune chuckled. "I—"

"Please don't say something like 'I already have the greatest treasure I could ask for' or something," Sunset begged.

"I mean, it's true," Jaune said.

"I know it's true; doesn't mean that we have to hear it," Sunset replied, although she couldn't help but smile at the colour that appeared on Pyrrha's cheeks. "Seriously, though, how do you feel about it?"

Jaune shrugged. "I don't really see that it makes much difference. I'm still me. I guess I would have still been me no matter what you found, but since you didn't find anything … I'm still me, Jaune Arc. And I don't have a problem with that."

Well, you'll never achieve greatness with an attitude like that, Sunset thought, but it seems to be working out okay for you so far.

And greatness is overrated anyway. Why seek it when you can be happy instead?

"So," she said, "how do we want to approach this?"

"We ask Professor Ozpin about Maidens," Ruby said.

"I mean, yes, that is what we're here to do," Sunset conceded. "But how?"

Ruby paused for a moment. "We ask him about Maidens," she said again.

"Ruby is right," Pyrrha added. "There is no reason not to be direct about this. What other approach could we adopt?"

That was a good point. Still, Sunset said, "Do we want to tell him about Raven?"

"Why wouldn't we?" Ruby asked.

"I suppose that's a 'yes' then," Sunset said. "I just wondered if you wanted to keep it to yourself."

"He must know already," Jaune pointed out. "It's not like Professor Goodwitch wouldn't have told him."

"She doesn't know what Raven said to Ruby and Yang, exactly, but fair enough," Sunset murmured. She took a deep breath. "Okay, straight up it is, in every sense."

"Although," Jaune went on, "what are we actually going to do once we know the truth?"

Sunset glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, say that Professor Ozpin tells us that we're right, that the Four Maidens are the four girls from the fairy tale and everything else, that Auburn and Merida from Ruby's Mom's journal were Maidens … so what? What does it mean for us, what are we supposed to do once we know that?"

"It's a bit late to bring that up now, I must say," Sunset replied, "but in answer to your question, we're not supposed to do anything. We're supposed to know."

"To know for what reason?" Jaune asked. "To what end?"

"To the end of understanding," Pyrrha said, in a voice as gentle as an autumn breeze. "Understanding where the Maidens fit into all else that we already know of, where they fit into this struggle that we are a part of, understanding—"

"Why they're kept secret," Sunset said.

"Why they are not used," Pyrrha replied. "I can understand the secrecy from the rest of Remnant, in the same way that all else is kept secret, but … if Professor Ozpin has four Maidens at his command, why does he need us?"

Sunset frowned. Pyrrha … I really wish that I could have found a way to give you your confidence back that didn't involve giving Cinder that rematch.

And yet, now that the issue had been raised, Sunset found herself honestly unsure whether she wanted Professor Ozpin to deny Pyrrha's desire or not. Yes, Pyrrha could die, but Pyrrha believed that she could win, and if she did, then a great shadow would be lifted from her spirit.

And Cinder would be dead.

You can hardly say it isn't a fate she deserves.

Is that really the point?

If it is not, then … okay, I admit, I don't really want to see Cinder, but a choice between her and Pyrrha is no choice at all.

I will choose Pyrrha, every time.

Even if Pyrrha chooses to venture beyond my aid.

"Because the Maidens could die," Ruby said.

"Thanks, Ruby, for making it sound as though we're expendable," Sunset said as Ruby's words recalled her to the present moment.

"I didn't," Ruby replied. "That's not what I … I shouldn't have said that; it was a terrible choice of words. What I meant was … the worst thing that could happen to us is that we die. The worst thing that could happen to one of the Maidens is that they die and someone like Cinder ends up with their powers. You get how that's worse, right?"

"Indeed so," Pyrrha said, bowing her head slightly.

Sunset did not answer; rather, in her silence, she glanced back at Jaune, who also said nothing.

She hoped that he was thinking the same thing she was: worse than Pyrrha being dead, or Ruby?

Judging by the frown on his face, she guessed that he was, if not actively thinking that way, then at the very least considering the possibility.

Fortunately, Ruby took her silence to be implied agreement, or at least to be the absence of active disagreement, and so she didn't press Sunset — or Jaune, for that matter — upon the point.

But when Sunset thought about their dead bodies, about their lifeless eyes staring, imploring … it didn't seem obviously better to her than some magical powers going to someone foul.

That wouldn't be good, obviously, but would it be so much worse as to be worth their lives?

If Sunset could have convinced herself of that, they'd all be dead already.

She was spared from having to think of that any further by the opening of the elevator doors, admitting them into Professor Ozpin's office. It was dark outside, night having fallen, but the office itself was bathed in a soft green glow which matched Professor Ozpin's attire as he sat behind his desk.

There were no chairs, nor in this instance was there a pot of cocoa — or anything else — to be seen; there was only Professor Ozpin, sat behind his desk, looking at something on the screen in front of him.

As the four students entered, Professor Ozpin looked up at them; the light was not so bright that his expression could easily be discerned.

The four students spread into a line facing the headmaster: first Sunset, then Ruby, then Pyrrha, then Jaune at the far end.

"Professor," Sunset said. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us."

"Not at all, and good evening to you," Professor Ozpin said, his tone light and genial. "Miss Nikos, I'm not sure that I should be meeting with you without a bodyguard present."

Pyrrha gasped. "Professor, I assure you that whatever is—"

"Forgive me, Miss Nikos, that was an attempt at humour, and clearly a poor one at that," Professor Ozpin said apologetically. "I should have considered … rest assured, I know where your loyalties lie."

Pyrrha glanced away, clutching at her right wrist with her left hand. "I … that is good to hear, Professor."

Professor Ozpin got up. "Does it trouble you?" he asked.

"To be so spoken of, Professor?" Pyrrha asked. "Should it not trouble me? Or do you counsel me that my reputation should be a thing of no concern to me, irrelevant?"

"It may seem like a mere bromide, Miss Nikos, but I do believe that a clear conscience can be a salve against the hostility of the world," Professor Ozpin said softly. "I myself have found it so, at times."

Pyrrha looked at him. "Surely … your reputation is beyond reproach, Professor."

"As you are discovering, Miss Nikos, even a reputation that is beyond reproach can be sullied by gossip and rumour," Professor Ozpin replied, his voice low, as low as the lights in his office were dim.

Professor Ozpin walked around his desk, approaching the four students, approaching Pyrrha specifically.

Sunset had not quite appreciated how unnaturally tall Professor Ozpin was — he did spend an awful lot of time sitting down — until she saw him closing the distance with Pyrrha and beginning to loom over her.

He reached out and placed a hand upon Pyrrha's bare shoulder.

"And yet, always, I have found that rumour and gossip melt away in the face of truth revealed in the eyes of the people. When the moment comes to show your quality, as I am sure you will, then all of these lies will be as morning dew, and no one will dare admit to having once believed them."

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. "I … I would have words with you, upon this matter, Professor, but … not now. After our other business is concluded, if you will."

"Of course, Miss Nikos, you may say whatever you wish, in whatever order you wish," Professor Ozpin said. He turned away and walked back to his desk, resuming his seat behind it, facing them.

"So," he said, resting his hands upon the desk, clasped together, "what can I do for you this evening?"

Sunset glanced at Ruby, wondering if she wanted to take the lead — it was, after all, Raven's visit to her that had started them off on this — but before she could, if she had even wanted to, Pyrrha took a step forward.

"If you will forgive us, Professor," she said, "we were hoping to talk to you…" — she swallowed — "about Maidens."

Professor Ozpin did not say anything for a moment. A sigh passed between his lips. "Yes, I thought that this might happen after Glynda told me about Raven's latest visit. I understand that she gave you the name, but explained nothing."

"That's right," Ruby murmured.

"But we've managed to work out a fair amount for ourselves," Sunset added.

Professor Ozpin looked at her. "Is that so, Miss Shimmer? By all means, then, tell me what you know, or at least believe you know."

"The Story of the Seasons," Pyrrha began, "the fairy tale; it is more than just a story, isn't it, Professor? It is the … the origin of the Maidens. How four women had great power bestowed upon them."

"But the power did not die with them," Sunset said. "Rather it was … passed on, somehow, so that there were always four Maidens at any given moment, and someone, whom we guess to be your predecessor, would find them and teach them and send them out into the world to do good works."

"Just as the old man in the fairytale had charged the original sisters to share their gifts with the world," Pyrrha murmured.

"But it didn't last," Sunset continued. "The Dark Mother — Salem, almost certainly — convinced the first Red Queen to kill one of the Maidens and take the power for herself."

"She used it to strike down my ancestor, the Empress of Mistral, and ruled the city for a while as a tyrant," Pyrrha said. "Until she died."

"But by that point, the Maidens were being hunted down and killed for their powers all over Remnant," Sunset said. "Until someone hunted down and killed the … the Red Queens. That was the work of this circle again, wasn't it, Professor? Our predecessors, and yours, killed the Maidens, and I'm guessing they possibly became the new Maidens themselves in consequence. Either way, at that point, this group decided to start hiding them away."

"So that they could be kept safe, and Salem's agents couldn't get to them," Jaune added.

"Auburn and Merida, whom my mother and father met," Ruby said. "They were Maidens, weren't they?"

"And the woman who saved Twilight Sparkle and her family when they were attacked by grimm upon the road," Sunset said. "Although … if the Maidens are allowed to interfere in such a way, I'm not sure why there aren't more such stories."

"With no insult intended to Miss Sparkle, that is not the kind of behaviour that I would have condoned," Professor Ozpin admitted. "However, the Winter Maiden has always been possessed of a certain rebellious spirit."

"The girl who sat outside the cottage, meditating and contemplating?" Pyrrha asked. "Rebellious?"

"An excellent point, Miss Nikos; that is a very poor choice of words," Professor Ozpin allowed. "Say rather … after a certain point, the Winter Maiden acquired a greater sense of pride than dwells in the others; in consequence, they have often chafed more against the authority of the leaders of this circle than the others have."

"I see," Sunset said softly, even though she didn't really. "So … how did we do, Professor?"

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. "Eight out of ten," he said.

"Are you going to tell us what we got wrong, Professor?" Jaune asked.

"Perhaps," Professor Ozpin said, reminding Sunset a little bit of why she hadn't liked him very much at first. "It may be easiest to begin at the end. Miss Rose, you were correct in all but one minor detail: Auburn and Merida were not both Maidens when I sent your parents and Team Stark on that mission. Auburn was, as you have correctly surmised, the Fall Maiden, but Merida did not become so until Auburn's death, not long after the mission."

"Merida was … her successor?" Sunset asked. "You knew that already?"

"There are ways of ensuring it," Professor Ozpin said, although he did not elaborate upon what those ways might be. "I wanted Auburn to be escorted to meet with Merida, and it seemed like a good opportunity to have someone whom I trusted evaluate Team Stark and their fitness to become a part of this struggle. I even considered if perhaps either Summer Rose or Raven Branwen might become a worthy Maiden themselves one day."

"The Fall Maiden," Pyrrha said. "And the Winter Maiden. So those were the names of the four sisters: Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall?"

Professor Ozpin rose from his chair and clasped his hands behind his back as he turned away from the students and walked towards the window. An Atlesian cruiser glided past, but from what Sunset could see of his reflection, Professor Ozpin seemed irritated by the stately motion of the airship, perhaps because it blocked his view out over Vale.

"Is that one of your favourite fairytales, Miss Nikos?" he asked.

"It is," Pyrrha murmured. "It is kind and gentle, and it reminds us that it is never too late to reach out to someone … or to be reached out to."

In his reflection in the glass, it almost seemed as if Professor Ozpin smiled. "Indeed, Miss Nikos, and what a valuable lesson that is."

"Where did the magic come from, Professor?" Sunset asked.

"Does it matter, Miss Shimmer?" Professor Ozpin asked calmly. "Not from where you might think, or where you might fear, if that is your concern. The magic of the Maidens is nought to do with your world. Suffice to say that … that once upon a time, there was a wizard, an old man of great power but rather less wisdom … and still less resolve. He had lived long and suffered much; he had … suffered losses which hurt him, so that he preferred isolation to the possibility of pain's return."

"Until he met the four sisters," Pyrrha said.

Professor Ozpin chuckled. "Indeed. Four sisters who just so happened to agree to rendezvous outside his cottage. Four sisters travelling Remnant, helping those in need however they could. Four sisters who taught him … so much that he had forgotten."

"This story is passed down through your ranks, isn't it, Professor?" Sunset asked. "Do you have his own account?"

Professor Ozpin glanced over his shoulder at her. "In a manner of speaking, Miss Shimmer, that is correct." He paused for a moment. "The four sisters not only reinvigorated the wizard's passion for life, but also by their actions, by their journey, his passion for doing good in the world. And yet, he saw in them, in their virtues, in their success, something that was superior to anything he now recognized in himself. And so—"

"And so he gave up his power, bestowing it upon the sisters instead," Pyrrha said. "Because he recognized that they were worthy of it. I'm sorry, Professor; I—"

"Quite alright, Miss Nikos," Professor Ozpin assured her. "And quite correct. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall, the four sisters, and the four Maidens who from that day down to this have borne their names."

"Why, Professor?" Ruby asked. "I mean, the four sisters in the fairy tale, they didn't need their magic to help the old man, the wizard. It didn't take magic to reach out to him, or to get him out of his house, or to show him to be thankful for the things that he had. What were they supposed to do as Maidens that they couldn't do as just four ordinary girls?"

"Lead, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin said. "Having bestowed his magic upon the four sisters, and despite having extracted from them all a promise that they would return and visit him again, the wizard left his cottage behind and returned to the world that he had turned his back upon. He founded this circle, took up the leadership of it, and gathered a few trusted, brave, like-minded individuals to stand with him and help him defend Remnant against the malice of Salem. But we work in shadows, and in secrecy, as you know. That was not the role he meant for the Maidens.

"You are correct, Miss Rose, that the original sisters had not needed magic in order to be kind or generous, in order to teach the aged wizard how to laugh once more. Or at least, they had not needed the magic that he bestowed upon them. But, though, as they were, they could help others whom they met upon their journeys, they could not command devotion, inspire loyalty, teach whole peoples by the spread of their word.

"An army is a symbol of strength, but also of conflict, for it is only conflict that creates the necessity of armies. A warrior can be a symbol of protection, but they are also symbols of violence, no matter who or what that violence is directed against; the very fact that they bear lethal weapons makes it so. But a Maiden, imbued with magic of many uses, able to fight but not existing for fighting … a Maiden could be a symbol of hope. It was the wizard's intention that while he and his allies worked in the shadows, the four Maidens would be the light."

"But it didn't work out that way," Jaune said. "Because … because of Salem."

"Indeed," Professor Ozpin said, in a voice that sounded more sad than angry. "Because of Salem. As you have guessed, Miss Shimmer, when the sources speak of the Dark Mother, they do, indeed, refer to Salem. It was she who first put into the head of a murderous bandit that she might acquire the powers of a Maiden by waylaying and murdering one of the Maidens, stealing and abusing the magic until what was meant to be a symbol of hope and inspiration became instead a symbol of terror and dominion." Professor Ozpin's voice shook. "Can you imagine, had the wizard lived long enough, how he would have felt, how he would have wept inside, to see his dream, his beautiful gift, perverted so by wicked, bloodstained hands?"

No, I cannot, but Princess Celestia might, Sunset thought, as she looked away. For if any has lived long enough to see such times, it is she.

Pyrrha clasped her hands together above her heart. "It must have been heartbreaking," she whispered.

Professor Ozpin did not answer her. Rather, he said, "And so, as the power of the Maidens fell into the hands of evil, so, too, it fell to my predecessor to act. The Maidens had never been part of this circle's struggle against Salem, but in addition to all other duties, it had been the responsibility of the head of this group to seek out new Maidens, to train them, and to instruct them in the duties that had been bestowed upon them. Now, as those unworthy to receive such a gift abused it, it was his responsibility to … to protect the world. Gathering his allies, he set out, and one by one, the unworthy Maidens were brought low, the powers passing into hands more worthy and trustworthy both alike."

"And then he hid them away," Sunset said.

Professor Ozpin turned to face her, to face all of them. "Do I detect a note of disapproval in your voice, Miss Shimmer?"

"Is disapproval such a strange response, Professor?" Sunset asked. "You said it yourself; the Maidens were intended to be the light, but you — or your predecessors, but you have continued their policy — have taken light out of the world. By your own words, you would rather the Winter Maiden had not stirred to rescued Twilight Sparkle and her family—"

"One girl's life, however intelligent, however kind, however well-beloved she may be," Professor Ozpin said, "or even the lives of a single family … they can never be worth more than exposing the secrets of the Maidens once again to the world, to Salem."

I think that Rainbow Dash, for one, would disagree with you, Sunset thought. In the specific, if not the general.

"I do not believe it is worth the cost, Professor," Sunset said.

"Does the past not clearly illustrate why the Maidens must be kept secret, Miss Shimmer?" Professor Ozpin asked. "If Salem's agents—"

"Then guard them, Professor," Sunset declared, taking a step forward. "Set a constant escort upon them as they got about their work, such as would attend upon the kings of old, but this … to hide them?"

"They are not confined in cloistered spaces, Sunset," Pyrrha pointed out. "Auburn was free to go to seek out Merida, and the Winter Maiden was free to intervene to aid Twilight, as much as Professor Ozpin might disapprove."

"I am not suggesting that they have been imprisoned," Sunset clarified, "but even if they have their liberty … what good is their magic if all they do with it is hold onto it for fear of someone worse getting their hands on it?"

"That's not the worst thing that they could do with it," Jaune said.

"Yes," Sunset snapped, "yes, it is. Magic that is not used is magic that may as well not exist at all, and worse than that, because they have to keep themselves safe and hidden, they're not even allowed to use the non-magical gifts that they might possess. It's like the four sisters not only hiding the magic that had been given to them, but also not even being able to help anyone the way that they helped the old man, because even letting them out of the house is too risky."

"What would you have me do, Miss Shimmer?" asked Professor Ozpin. "What would you have the Maidens do?"

"All that they were empowered to do," Sunset said. "Lead, inspire, encourage, illuminate; even my own people, who are, I daresay, spiritually superior to men in every way—"

"You dare say," Jaune said dryly.

Sunset put one hand on her hip. "My people were not tearing our world to pieces in an existential war just four generations ago, so, yes, we are superior, excuse you." She returned her attention to Professor Ozpin. "But even we, even my people, of whom I am, I must concede, a poor example of the qualities of which I boast, even we require … exemplars. Paragons. Those who are raised, literally elevated into the skies, to whom all the rest who walk upon the ground may look up and see that here is the essence of virtue, here is an example to heed and to follow." She paused for a moment. "When the wizard bestowed the powers upon the first Maidens, did he know that they would endure following their deaths?"

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. "I am not entirely sure, Miss Shimmer; that particular detail is not recorded," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"Because, leaving aside the egregious flaw that one may kill a Maiden to obtain a Maiden's powers," Sunset said, "it strikes me the system of transfer, the system of ascension, is more fundamentally flawed still by the fact that powers can be bestowed before she on whom they are bestowed has done aught to earn them. To become an alicorn, as close as we have to what a Maiden was meant to be, one must first walk the path, one must demonstrate an understanding — a great and unparalleled understanding — of that which you will become princess of, one must do as those first four sisters did and earn the power and status that will accrue to you through virtue and accomplishment. The wizard blessed those sisters because they had earned a blessing and proved to him that they were worthy to wield his power … and yet, none of their successors are subject to such a test; it is just given to them. Even leaving aside Salem's malice and her interference, it is a miracle that no Maiden proved unworthy of her office even before the murders started."

Again, Professor Ozpin took pause before replying, "I will not deny that your point has some validity, Miss Shimmer," he said. "And yet, I think you will agree that it is a little too late to do anything about it now."

Sunset sighed. "I suppose so, Professor."

"As for your other point," Professor Ozpin went on, "I see the force in what you say, I believe that you believe it, but … I must admit that I am not convinced. My predecessors have kept the Maidens secret these many years and in secrecy … in secrecy, they have been kept safe. I will not risk … I will not take the risks that would accrue from changing that."

He sat back down at his chair, behind his desk. "I do not begrudge having come by this information; you have thought about the information set before you, and you have drawn your conclusions from it; you have, in many ways, shown yourselves to be model students." He chuckled softly. "Nevertheless, I hope that you understand that I do not propose to reveal the identities or the locations of the Maidens to you at this time, and I hope that I can count on your discretion in keeping these details to yourselves."

"Does that include Team Rosepetal, Professor?" Sunset asked.

Professor Ozpin hesitated for a moment. "You may tell your Atlesian friends what you have learned, what we have discussed here tonight. And Miss Belladonna also."

Well, I was kind of including her as part of Team RSPT, but thank you anyway.

"We will not tell a soul else, Professor," Pyrrha vowed.

"Thank you, Miss Nikos," Professor Ozpin replied. "This information … even without the danger posed by Salem, if people knew that there existed in the world such great power … they would seek to use it, to take it for themselves, as the Red Queens did of old."

"You don't trust people to do the right thing?" Ruby asked, sounding a little disappointed.

"If all of the people could be trusted to do the right thing, to turn away from temptation, to renounce wrath, vengeance, or the desire for power, then Salem would have no followers, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin. "I believe in people, but it is naïve to forget that there are always a few in whom that faith is misplaced." He paused. "Nevertheless, thank you for keeping my confidence. The time may come when you are ready to know more, but for now, I would bid you goodnight, save that Miss Nikos has something else she wishes to discuss with me."

"Yes, Professor, thank you," Pyrrha murmured, taking a step forwards ahead of the others. "It is about … the issue that you brought up earlier, the allegations made against me. I … I should like to answer them by challenging Cinder Fall to meet me in battle and thus prove to the world that she and I have no connection to one another but an adversarial one.

"I mean," she said, speaking quickly as though she were afraid that if she stopped and allowed Professor Ozpin to speak, he might not let her finish, "to issue my challenge via the news in Vale, to ensure that it reaches Cinder, and in Mistral, to ensure that it reaches all those who might otherwise think ill of me. I believe that Cinder will accept, and I hope that she will reach out to Sunset as she did before our mission to Mountain Glenn, to arrange the location and time of our meeting."

Professor Ozpin said nothing for a moment. What little light there was in the office glinted off his spectacles, momentarily concealing his eyes from view.

"I see," he murmured. "That is … an interesting notion, Miss Nikos. May I ask, is this entirely for the purpose of protecting your reputation in Mistral?"

"No, Professor, I am not so vain as that," Pyrrha replied. "But I am … I am…"

"You are troubled," Professor Ozpin said.

Pyrrha bowed her head. "Yes, Professor. I feel … I feel as though I have little to contribute compared to my teammates."

"Because you do not have magic, as they do?" Professor Ozpin asked.

Pyrrha looked up. "Precisely, Professor."

"Miss Nikos, before Summer Rose arrived in Vale, these eyes of mine had never gazed upon a Silver-Eyed Warrior," Professor Ozpin told her. "I knew of them, the knowledge had been passed down to me, but I assumed — as did my predecessors — that they were extinct, that Salem had hunted them down and killed them all. Of Equestrian servants, I have had none until Miss Shimmer; most visitors from her world have been more pain than blessing to Remnant, I must say. And yet, for these many years past, we of this little circle have held the line against Salem with nought but the same kind of skill and courage you possess."

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. "That may be so, Professor," she conceded, "but nevertheless … perhaps it is vanity. Perhaps it is the fact that I have not covered myself in glory fit to match my elevated view of myself, but nevertheless … I do not feel … I must do this, not only — not even mostly — for the sake of my reputation here or in Mistral, but for the sake of my confidence. I wish to prove myself to myself, is that so ill?"

"No, Miss Nikos, there is nothing ill in it," Professor Ozpin admitted. "In some ways, I suppose it is the most natural thing in the world, for all that the trappings of Mistralian honour make it seem strange and unusual." He paused for a moment. "So … you will allow Miss Fall to choose the time and place of the contest?"

"That is the way, Professor," Pyrrha explained. "I make the challenge, so she may set the terms."

"Have you considered that she may take this opportunity to lure you into a trap, Miss Nikos?"

"I'm not sure that I'm worth the effort, Professor, but in any case … no, I don't think so," Pyrrha replied. "For whatever it may be worth, we are both Mistralians."

"Some might call that a slender reed to cling to," Professor Ozpin observed.

"Professor," Pyrrha said, "I am at your service, and so if you tell me that you do not wish me to take this course, I will, of course, obey."

"And in obedience, your sense of self will wither," Professor Ozpin said. "No, Miss Nikos, I am not in the habit of acting as a general or a lord. I am the head of this organisation, but you are not mine to dispose of as I will. Certainly, I am not in the habit of … denying choice. I hope that you would not propose this course if you had no hope of victory, Miss Nikos."

"No, Professor," Pyrrha replied. "I mean yes, Professor, I mean … I believe I can defeat her."

Professor Ozpin nodded slightly. He looked away from Pyrrha, away from all of them. "I sincerely hope that you are right, Miss Nikos," he said in a voice that was so soft that Sunset had to strain to hear him. Soft and … wistful? It hardly seemed appropriate, but that was what Sunset heard in his voice.

"There is," he went on, "the complication that duelling is illegal here in Vale, and has been for some time."

"Duelling is illegal," Pyrrha allowed. "But fighting against an enemy is not."

"Some might say that the distinction becomes rather muddled when one is issuing public challenges on public television," Professor Ozpin said, a touch of amusement creeping into his voice, "but if there are any consequences, I daresay that we'll manage to muddle through somehow."

He got up from his chair. "In times like these, I believe the customary phrase is 'come back with your shield or on it.' Obviously, Miss Nikos, that you should come back victorious is greatly to be preferred, but … shield or no, I'm sure that everyone here would prefer that you just come back alive."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Reforged

​

The armoury of Beacon Academy was located on the far edge of the campus, where the noise of the machining and the machinery could not disturb the air, or more importantly, the students. It was past the farm, with its clucking chickens and the goat whom Sunset kept an eye on as they passed, and getting there involved following a path which was sometimes gravel and sometimes just plain dirt, before the team arrived at last at their destination.

The armoury was a tallish building, but shaped in a way that made it seem kind of squat all the same; the walls leaned inwards a little, so that the armoury narrowed towards the top like some kind of chimney stack. It was black, unlike the grey stone of most of the other buildings at Beacon, and the windows were only translucent, so that you couldn't see much on the other side of them except colours: hot colours, bright reds and oranges, as if an inferno were blazing away inside.

"Are you sure that you're okay to do this, Pyrrha?" Jaune asked as they approached. "I mean, I know that you—"

"My honour is not so important as your sword," Pyrrha assured him. "I'm sure that Cinder will not begrudge me this slight tardiness."

The doors were metal and locked, but Ruby — who was in the lead — held up her scroll to swipe it over a scanner mounted into the black wall, and both the metal doors swung open inwards, like the entrance to a creepy old temple opening up to lure in unwary treasure hunters.

Walking inside, all four members of Team SAPR found themselves upon a metal walkway suspended over a sharp drop downwards to a basement level where hot furnaces belched fire, smoke rising as the flames licked upwards from their dark, charred pits.

The metal walkway upon which they stood, and upon which their feet rattled as they moved, ran all around the wall of the armoury, save along the eastern wall where there was instead a ramp sloping downwards into the pit. The four of them walked down it. Over his shoulder, Jaune wore a satchel bag containing the shards of Crocea Mors; the pieces of the blade clattered together every so often, moreso it seemed as they began to walk downwards; just so long as they didn't slice open the bag and come spilling out to drop to the floor below, that would be fine. He didn't have any other parts for his new sword that Ruby had designed for him — he had contributed ideas, but it was Ruby who had turned those ideas into something that could be physically manufactured — since Ruby said that they were going to make them themselves, here in the armoury.

Jaune couldn't help but think that that would translate to Ruby making the parts here in the armoury and hoped that they weren't — that he wasn't — putting too much work upon her shoulders.

As they descended, the heat of the fires began to strike at Jaune's face, slapping him repeatedly as the flames flickered. He could feel the heat of the air when he breathed and found that already he could hardly imagine what it would be like to stay here for hours, days, longer perhaps. Now he understood why Pyrrha had insisted on bringing some bottles of water with them.

He couldn't help but wonder how long this was going to take.

As they reached the bottom of the pit, Jaune saw that there was someone down there already: a young man, if a few years older than him — but certainly not much older than a new graduate or a fourth-year student — a pretty man, in a way that might have made him jealous if he hadn't had so much faith in Pyrrha; a man with long brown hair tied back in a queue and a pencil moustache dignifying his upper lip. He was tall — about Jaune's height — and slender, dressed in a shirt that had been white before it became stained with suit and ash and much else besides, a neckerchief equally stained tied around his neck, and dark trousers. He was holding a sword in one hand, a slender rapier with a gilded hilt and guard. The blade glimmered in the light of the furnaces.

"Wow! That looks really awesome, Mister Turner!" Ruby called as she leapt off the ramp and led the way rapidly across the spacious chamber towards the man and his sword. "Is that a new one?"

The man — Mister Turner — turned to face her, still gripping the blade firmly in one hand. "Ruby," he greeted her cheerfully. "Nice to see you again; and yes, this is new. Folded steel, gold leaf laid into the handle, the tang is nearly—"

"The full width of the blade," Ruby finished.

Mister Turner smiled. "You have a good eye."

Ruby smiled. "Thanks. Is it for you?"

Mister Turner laughed. "No. This is an order for General Blackthorn, placed by the First Councillor to celebrate the good general's promotion."

"Ah," Ruby murmured. "That's a pity."

Mister Turner blinked. "'A pity'?"

"A general isn't going to get much use out of it, is he?" Ruby asked. "It's just going to sit on his hip, looking pretty."

"Perhaps," Mister Turner conceded. "But if he should ever have need of a sword, he will have the best." He glanced past Ruby towards the other members of the team. "And these must be your teammates."

"Yep," Ruby agreed. "This is Sunset Shimmer, Jaune Arc, and Pyrrha Nikos. Everyone, this is Will Turner, the assistant armourer."

"You know him?" Sunset said.

"Yeah, I've come here sometimes to work on Crescent Rose," Ruby explained.

"And you make swords for people outside of the school?" Jaune asked. "You must be pretty good."

Mister Turner shrugged. "If people appreciate my work, then who am I to say that they are wrong? So, Jaune, I understand it's your sword that you're all here to reforge?"

Jaune nodded. "That's right."

"Well, I'm sure you'll be in good hands with Ruby," Mister Turner said. "But if you need anything, I'll be around. For the most part; I do need to deliver this to Councillor Emerald."

"What about your boss?" Sunset asked. "The actual armourer."

"He's on vacation at the moment," Mister Turner explained. "Ruby, will you be all right here on your own for a little bit?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," Ruby assured him. "We'll be fine."

Mister Turner smiled, nodded, and placed the sword in a blue case, closing the lid and tucking the box beneath his arm before he began to walk towards the slope that led out towards the rest of Beacon and the world beyond.

"You know," Ruby said, "I've never actually seen the armourer, just Mister Turner."

"Perhaps he's very busy," Pyrrha suggested.

"Probably," Ruby agreed. "Anyway, since we're here, we should probably get started."

"Great," Jaune agreed. He paused for a moment. "Where do we start?"

They started, it turned out, in the machining room, which lay beyond a couple of doors leading out of the great chamber containing the furnaces. Here, there were all kinds of machining tools for the manufacture and adjustment of parts, although exactly what parts each machine made, Jaune really couldn't tell. All he knew was that the room was full of tools, and they made parts here.

I'm really going to need Ruby's help with this, aren't I?

"We start," Ruby informed them all, "by remaking the hilt; once we've done that, once the dust mechanism and everything else works, then we can reforge the sword and be sure that it's going to fit into the adjusted hilt — and your scabbard, of course."

"Right," said Jaune. "And … where do we start with that, exactly?"

It turned out that, although Jaune was completely new at this, and although he had no idea what these machining tools did, he was able to avoid relying too much on Ruby by insisting that she could only tell him, or show him, what it was that he needed to do. For the final piece, for the piece that would actually form part of the rebuilt and reforged Crocea Mors, he insisted upon doing it himself: he would make the part, he would bore the diameter, he would dismantle this or assemble that. It didn't make the process quick by any means; in fact, it made it a lot more drawn out than it would have been if he'd just let Ruby do it, but as much as he flailed about at times, as much as he broke things — only the would-be parts of his new sword, thankfully, and not the machining tools — and as much as he probably would have taken his arm off at least once if it weren't for his aura, Jaune was glad that he insisted otherwise, insisted upon having a hand — both hands, most often — in the production.

After all, this was his sword, his weapon. Dad had told him to make Crocea Mors his own, and what better way to do that than by actually making it? Ruby had made Crescent Rose with her own two hands, and while Sunset hadn't made the parts, she had put them all together herself. Pyrrha … he hadn't actually asked Pyrrha about it, but he'd be astonished if she hadn't been involved somehow.

After all, they said that all the best weapons had a piece of the wielder's soul inside of it. That hadn't been true of him and Crocea Mors, and while it certainly wasn't the only reason why he wasn't up to their level … maybe it was a part of it.

In any case, it was an issue that he had a chance to correct, and he wasn't going to miss it.

Which isn't to say that he didn't accept any help from the others. While he wouldn't let Ruby do the work for him, he would have been lost without instructions. When something was especially fiddly, where he needed a particularly steady hand, Pyrrha was willing to help steady anything metal with her semblance to ensure that he could slot things together properly without breaking anything or messing it up in any way. And as work on the hilt progressed, Sunset helped turn some of the dull metal into something a little cooler-looking.

Nevertheless, Jaune was doing most of the work himself, and while he wouldn't have had it any other way, it was still hard work, and it wasn't made any easier by the heat coming in from the furnaces next door. And so, taking a quick break, he left the armoury, climbing up the ramp and onto the high walkway, exiting onto the grounds of Beacon where the air was crisp and cool and fresh.

He sat down just beyond the armoury doors, resting his elbows upon his knees, his hands drooping towards the ground.

"Thirsty?" Pyrrha asked, holding out a bottle of water as she sat down beside him.

"Thanks," Jaune said, taking the bottle from her hands and unscrewing the white plastic cap. He squeezed the bottle a little between his fingers as he drank from it, pouring the liquid down his parched throat. The water wasn't cool by any means — it had been down in the armoury for too long — but he wasn't in very much position to care.

Jaune lowered the bottle and wiped the sweat from his brow with his other hand. "How's it going?"

"How do you think it's going?" Pyrrha asked. "It's your weapon."

"Yeah, but I don't exactly know what I'm doing," Jaune pointed out.

"You say that as though I do," Pyrrha said. "I'm sure that Ruby would let you know if things weren't going well."

"Yeah, I'm sure she would," Jaune agreed. He paused for a moment, and drank some more water from the bottle. "You didn't make Miló yourself, then?"

Pyrrha shook her head. "All my weapons," she explained, "were forged by Hephaestus, one of the greatest smiths in Mistral, although as I grew older, I was able to get more involved in the creation myself."

"When you say all of your weapons—"

"I didn't always use Miló and Akoúo̱," Pyrrha said. "My training began when I was very young, and so did my tournament career. My weapons have … I would say they have grown up with me, but the truth is that, as I grew up, I left them behind."

"But they were always the same kind of weapons, I guess," Jaune said. "Otherwise, you would have had to start your training all over again."

"Indeed," Pyrrha replied. "My first weapon was a spear called Steropes and a shield called Brontes; both very simple, no mode shifting, no unnecessary complications. When I had gained some affinity with the spear, I was given a sword, Arges, and thereafter my first gun."

"What was that called?" asked Jaune.

Pyrrha paused for a moment. "My mother made the mistake of letting me name the gun, young though I was."

Jaune grinned. "Come on, you've got to tell me now."

Pyrrha glanced downwards. "'Pyrrha's Gun,'" she said.

Jaune snorted. "There could have been worse choices."

"Perhaps," Pyrrha agreed. "But Mother didn't let me choose the names again until I was old enough to appreciate the gravity of it and the solemnity with which it should be approached." She looked at him. "Will you keep the name Crocea Mors?"

"I… yeah," Jaune said. "I mean, why wouldn't I?"

"Sometimes, when a weapon is shattered and then reforged, it is also renamed," Pyrrha said. "Especially if it is coming into the possession of a new owner who wishes to put their own stamp on it."

Jaune thought about that for a moment … but while it was possible to think about changing the name, actually thinking about a name which he might change it to was a little more difficult. Besides, while he hadn't considered the idea before, now that it had been brought to his attention, it wasn't really grabbing him.

"I think I'll keep it," he said. "After all, it's enough that I'm completely changing the sword from what it was when my ancestors used it; I don't want to lose all connection to what it was and to who came before me."

Pyrrha smiled. "Very well then," she said. "Crocea Mors it shall remain. And you shall do it further honour, I have no doubt, until the time comes…"

Until the time comes to pass it to one of our kids? Jaune wondered, guessing that was what she meant but had not quite said. It was a lovely thought, but at the same time … Jaune wondered if it wasn't too much. He already had the family ring, to give to Pyrrha when he felt like he was ready to ask — and when he felt like she'd say yes, too — to also keep the family sword, permanently … was it a bit much?

"I … don't know," Jaune admitted. "I'm wondering if maybe, when the time comes for me to retire, I should send the sword back home, for River's kid or one of my other nephews to use."

"Or perhaps it is time to retire the idea of an ancestral family weapon?" Pyrrha suggested. "I do not bear the weapon of my huntsman father or my esteemed tournament champion mother. Rather, I use my own weapons, made for me, as this new Crocea Mors will be made for you. While a simple sword and shield can be learned by anyone, these modifications—"

"Might not suit anyone else's style or technique," Jaune finished. "That … that's a good point. I don't know, not like we need to make a decision on it right now, anyway, right?"

Pyrrha smiled. "No, indeed."

Jaune drank some more of his water; the bottle was about halfway drained by this point. "Thanks for this," he said again as he climbed to his feet. "I think I'm ready to get back to work now."

And so he descended back into the armoury, back into the heat of the forges, back into the machining room, and there, with the help of his friends, he laboured until the hilt was complete.

It was heavier now than it had been before — it could hardly have been otherwise, given what was being built into it — which was unfortunately going to mess with the balance a little bit but which was, at the same time, unavoidable if any changes were going to be made to the sword whatsoever. Ruby said that there were ways of reforging the blade that would counteract that, but judging by the look on Pyrrha's face, Jaune thought that she might have doubts about the idea of making the blade part of the sword heavier than it already was.

It was wider now, heavier, yes, but also more ornate, the crossguard rising at the tips, pointing in the same direction as the blade would, and in the centre forming a golden arrow pointing down the blade — or at least, it would once there was a blade again. The gold — or gilded metal; Sunset had cast a spell on it to make it look gold, but Jaune wasn't sure that it actually was gold; probably not — was ornately decorated with swirling patterns, and set on each side with a pair of sapphires set together so that they almost looked like eyes, and each pair paired with two emeralds sitting on the extreme wings of the guard.

Again, Jaune didn't think that they were real gems, but Sunset had certainly made them seem that way.

The grip remained much as it had, long enough to grip the sword easily in one hand, wrapped around with strips of blue leather criss-crossing up towards the pommel, but the pommel itself was set with what appeared to be a very large sapphire, the size of a duck's egg, gleaming brightly on the end of the sword.

This was definitely not a sapphire; rather, it was the container for a canister of dust, although it did help disguise what kind of dust he was using on any given day. Rather than add in a revolver function, such as Weiss or Russel used, Ruby had suggested a simpler system whereby there was only one dust canister in the sword at any one time, but with the capacity to easily switch it out if needed. And so, once a dust canister — he didn't actually have any dust yet; buying some was next on his to-do list once the sword was finished — was inserted into the gem, the dust would travel down the two pipes that ran through the hilt to be expelled through the holes which sat on either side of the crossguard. Once activated, by a trigger built into the hilt at the point where his thumb generally rested when he was using the sword — Ruby had had him draw the broken sword from its scabbard at least twenty times to be sure of getting the position right — fire or ice or whatever else he liked would erupt down the blade.

Once the blade was reforged.

For now, Jaune was the proud owner of a new hilt, a hilt which he brandished aloft. "What do you guys think?"

"It needs a sword," Sunset said.

"Sunset!" Ruby scolded her.

"How does it feel, Jaune?" Pyrrha asked. "You are the one who has to wield it, not us."

"It feels…" Jaune paused, swiping the bladeless hilt through the air experimentally. "It's … different, to how it was before, but so am I. It's better." And so am I.

Pyrrha nodded, and a smile graced the corners of her lips.

"So," Jaune went on. "Now for the sword."

So Jaune passed out of the machining room and into the forge, where the air was even hotter as the flames of the furnaces rose up, and amongst the flames, chest bare, he laboured to reforge his broken blade, melting the broken shards down in the hot fires and casting them anew into the mould.

The renewed blade was joined to the newly fashioned hilt, and just like that, Crocea Mors was born anew.

And Jaune Arc was armed once more.

XxXxX​

"So," Jaune said, "where shall we go to get dust? Where do you go to get dust?"

The four of them now stood in Vale; none of them were armed, save only for Jaune, who wore his new sword proudly at his hip — and why shouldn't he? It was, after all, brand new. Brand new, remade, reforged; he had a right to show it off a little bit.

Sunset would have done the same in his position.

"I shouldn't say this, but I always buy from the SDC," Sunset said. "Well, I buy from DustWorld, the SDC retail subsidiary."

"Why don't we try From Dust Till Dawn?" Ruby suggested. "You know it reopened after the robbery around the start of last semester."

"No, let's not go there," Sunset said.

"'Robbery'?" Pyrrha repeated. "Is this where the two of you—?"

"Yes, it's where we met, but we're not going back," Sunset said. "The owner is a racist."

"Really?" Ruby asked.

"Yes!" Sunset insisted. "He kept me waiting forever, refusing to serve me because I'm a faunus. If he had done his job and not been such a bigot about things, I wouldn't have even been in that store when Torchwick arrived."

"Then it's a good thing for him that he didn't, huh?" Ruby replied.

Sunset pouted. "Perhaps," she conceded. "But that doesn't make him any more of a pleasant person or any more of a person that I want to spend a lot of time around."

"I'd like to see how he's doing," Ruby said. "Just to make sure that he's okay and that he got back on his feet. Wouldn't you like to know that it all worked out okay?"

Not really; it wouldn't bother Sunset if the man had gone out of business permanently; it would have served him right. However, with as much grace as she could muster, she relented. "Very well, let's go to From Dust Till Dawn, but if he doesn't have what Jaune's looking for, then we go to DustWorld."

So they headed through the streets of Vale in search of the dust shop that had brought Sunset and Ruby together and brought Ruby into Beacon two years early. It was getting a little close to dusk as they moved through the city, the sun beginning to sink in the horizon, yielding the sky to darkness, to the stars, and to the lights of General Ironwood's warships.

"Now that Jaune has a new weapon," Ruby said as they walked along, "we should ask Professor Ozpin to give us a mission so that he can try it out."

"Trying out his weapon is what training is for," Pyrrha pointed out, "but a nice, relatively quiet mission so that you can see how your new functionalities work in the field wouldn't be the worst idea."

"Once your fight with Cinder is done," Jaune said softly.

The air seemed to grow a little colder at his reminder of what lay in store for Pyrrha, the reminder of the fact that a possible future lay ahead in which Team SAPR was without the P, and Jaune carried his new sword in memory of his lost love, laid low in defence of her honour.

It won't be like that; have some faith; she's your best friend.

And Cinder's wrath is terrifying.

"Yes," Pyrrha murmured. "Once that has been dealt with."

Pyrrha wouldn't be doing this if she didn't think she could win.

Would she?

Wouldn't she? You heard her, you've heard her more than once; she's looking for something to hold onto.

Well, then maybe you should be supportive and help her find it, since clearly, it wasn't going to get any better on its own.

I'm not going to tell her that it's a bad idea, but I won't cheerlead this; I can't.

My heart is too heavy to muster light-hearted enthusiasm.

That was left to Jaune, who smiled and slipped one hand into hers and said, "Yeah, once you've finished Cinder once and for all, we should ask about a nice, quiet, ordinary mission."

Pyrrha glanced his way. "I'd like that."

They continued to walk down the streets, streets which were not perhaps covered in graffiti but which were nevertheless daubed with paint decrying Atlas.

"I see what you mean, Ruby," Sunset said softly.

"Is it like this everywhere?" Jaune asked. "I mean … how? How has the whole of Vale just turned against Atlas like this?"

"It doesn't have to be the whole city," Sunset pointed out. "Just a few people who care enough to spread the word across the whole city."

"Okay, but even so, why?" asked Jaune. "I mean, at the Breach, without General Ironwood's forces…"

"The city would have been lost," Pyrrha whispered. "Perhaps that is the problem. Valish pride cannot bear to have stood in need of rescue."

"That still doesn't make much sense," Ruby pointed out.

"People don't always make sense, so maybe Pyrrha's right," Sunset replied. "It doesn't make it any less stupid, but she might be right."

"Faunus! Why don't you go home, eh? Go back where you came from?"

Sunset jumped a little at the sudden shout from across the road, her tail twitching and her ears pressing down against her head, disappearing into her mass of fiery hair.

She turned on her toes, one hand clenching into a fist as her mouth opened to give whoever had yelled at her like that a piece of her mind, before she realised that the shout was not actually directed at her.

No, the shout that had come from across the street was actually directed at two faunus across the street, two bird faunus with wings of apple-green white emerging from out of their backs.

Two faunus whom Sunset had seen before, although it took her a moment to place their names: Silverstream and Terramar, Skystar's cousins.

They were walking down the street, going the opposite direction to that in which Team SAPR was headed; Silverstream was wearing a Weiss Schnee top with spaghetti straps, which had the advantage of accommodating her wings; Terramar was wearing a t-shirt with a sports brand on it, which also had been cut out at the back to let his wings fly free.

Sunset couldn't help but feel they might have done better to cover them up in this instance.

They were being followed down the street by a man, a bald man in a faded blue denim jacket and jeans, with steel-toed boots upon his feet. He moved with an awkward, almost shambling gait, but he was taller than Silverstream — and much taller than Terramar — and so, despite the fact that they were trying to walk quickly, they were not able to open up the distance between them.

Worse still, their route down the street was going to take them past a bar, a cheap-looking place where cheap-looking people were gathering outside with pints of ale in their hands. Some of them, their attention drawn by the shouting, were already looking up the road towards Silverstream, Terramar, and their pursuer.

Silverstream kept glancing behind her, as if she was hoping that he had given up; she kept one hand on Terramar's shoulder and another on his back, though whether she was trying to push him along or shield him, Sunset could not have said.

"How many kids did your mother have, eh?" the man demanded. "How much money has she stolen from us?"

Sunset gritted her teeth, but Pyrrha beat her to stepping forward, her armour glinting in the dying sunlight as she strode across the road — looking both ways as she did so — towards Silverstream and Terramar. Sunset followed, both hands clenching into fists, although when she walked across the street, she did not aim for the two faunus, but rather, for the man who followed them.

Pyrrha reached the two first, smiling reassuringly as she stepped in front of them.

"Hello," she said. "You might not remember me but we've met before. My name is—"

"Pyrrha Nikos," Silverstream murmured, her voice trembling. "You're … kind of hard to forget."

"So are you, Silverstream Aris," Pyrrha replied, the smile not leaving her face. "Please, don't worry; everything's going to be alright now."

Sunset stalked onto the pavement on their side of the road, placing herself foursquare in the path of the man in the denim jacket and jeans.

"That's enough," she growled. "Leave them alone."

The man came to a rollocking stop, leaning backwards a little and staggering back a couple of steps, looking as though he might topple over and crack his head on the pavement. He did not, unfortunately; rather, he sneered at Sunset, his lips curling back to reveal a mouthful of rotten, yellow teeth.

"Oh, another one," he said. "How many brothers or sisters have you got, by how many dads? How often was your mother—?"

Sunset hit him, her fist snapping out to sock him on the jaw, making him stagger backwards, clutching his face with one hand.

"My mother was a lady," Sunset growled, taking a step forward, her tail absolutely rigid with anger; it was true that her dam may well have been exactly what this oaf had been about to accuse her of, but she wasn't Sunset's mother. "So keep her name out of your mouth, or you'll be eating soup for the rest of your life."

The man stared at her in disbelief. "You … you can't talk to me like that! This is my kingdom! Mine!"

"And this is my fist," Sunset said.

The man's face twisted with anger. "Why … why do you get to talk to me like that? Why do you get to look like that? I … I'm human! I should be ruling this kingdom, you uppity—"

Sunset hit him again, this time on the nose; there was an audible crunch as his head snapped backwards.

"Boohoo, your life is awful, and you're unhappy," Sunset said. Guess what, I'm pretty unhappy myself a lot of the time. "It doesn't give you the right to be a jackass to kids. Now beat it."

The man looked as though he might say something else — until Sunset raised her fist at him again, at which point, he got the message and scurried off, though not without some angry backward glances in her direction.

Sunset turned her back on him, walking towards Silverstream, Terramar, and Pyrrha, who had been joined by Jaune and Ruby.

Pyrrha had her gloved hands upon the shoulders of both Silverstream and Terramar, smiling benignly down at both of them.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

Terramar glanced down at the ground. "Not great," he said quietly. "My stomach feels kind of … almost like I might throw up; not exactly, but kind of, you know."

Silverstream shivered. "Me too. I feel a little better now that he's gone." She half turned to look at Sunset. "Thank you, for getting rid of him."

"It's the least I could do," Sunset said.

"What happened?" Ruby asked.

"We were on our way home from the video store when he just started following us," Silverstream said. "I thought that maybe he'd stop after a little bit, go away, leave us alone, but he didn't. He just kept on following us. I didn't know what he was going to do if he caught up with us."

"That's not something you have to worry about anymore," Sunset said.

"But we're sorry that you had to go through that," Ruby added. "Vale … I don't know what's going on; Vale's better than this."

"I've never had that happen to me before," Silverstream agreed. "This, the graffiti … it's like nothing that I've ever known; it's like Grampa's stories about what it was like after the war, when he got chased out of his house and people wrote 'Silver Bullet won here' on the door. I thought that was all in the past, not that I'd ever…" Silverstream trailed off. "Anyway, thank you for helping; we should get going."

"We'll walk you home," Pyrrha said, with only a glance towards Sunset in the way of asking for permission.

"Are you sure?" Silverstream asked. "We don't want to put you to any trouble."

"It would be our honour," Pyrrha assured them.

"And our duty as huntsmen," Ruby said.

Silverstream glanced at Terramar and managed to muster up the slightest smile. "Thanks," she said. "Thank you all."

The four of them fell in around the two, Pyrrha leading, Sunset bringing up the rear, with Jaune and Ruby on either side of them. They steered away from the bar, veering towards the other side of the street again, but though a few people stared at them, nobody else dared to challenge them.

"Vale shouldn't be like this," Ruby lamented. "Especially not now. We're supposed to be all coming together for the Vytal Festival."

"Apparently not," muttered Terramar.

Jaune's brow furrowed. "So," he said, "did you two pick up anything cool at the video store?"

Silverstream glanced at him as one hand went to the bag that she wore on one harm, banging lightly against her hip. "I hope so," she said. "We're going to try out those cartoons about the zoo animals that get washed up on Menagerie."

"I've not heard of them," Sunset said. "What are they called?"

"…Menagerie."

"Right, that sounds obvious, now that you say it," Sunset replied. "Well, I hope you enjoy them."

"You guys having a movie night?" asked Ruby.

"Something like that, yeah," Silverstream said. "We're kind of—"

"Babysitting," Terramar said.

"That makes it sound like a chore," Silverstream chided him. "Which it isn't. Bramble's really sweet."

"'Bramble'?" Sunset repeated. "The First Councillor's son?"

Silverstream nodded. "We've known Councillor Emerald for years — he and Aunt Novo were always really close — so we sometimes take care of Bramble when the First Councillor needs a sitter. He's going to … I think it's a Vytal Festival thing, cause Skystar's going to be there too."

"It's the parade planning," Terramar supplied.

"Right, right, the parade," Silverstream. "Are you guys looking forward to that? Are you looking forward to the festival?"

"'To the festival'? Yeah, sure, why not," Jaune said. "To the parade … we don't actually know if we'll be a part of it yet; none of the schools have announced their Vytal choices."

"That sounds as though it's cutting it pretty fine," Silverstream declared. "When are you going to find out?"

"We are not entirely sure," Pyrrha admitted.

"But we'll be selected, for certain," Sunset said.

"You shouldn't get overconfident, Sunset," Pyrrha murmured, glancing back at her over her shoulder.

Sunset snorted. "You just say that because you want to seem humble in front of Silverstream and Terramar."

"I'm surprised they don't announce it earlier so you can start training for the tournament," Terramar opined.

"We ought to be training anyway, tournament or not, to keep our skills sharp," Ruby said.

"Okay," Terramar allowed, "but don't you need to practice for the parade too?"

"It sounds like they haven't sorted all the details out yet, so it would be kind of hard to practice," Ruby pointed out.

"You make a good point there," Terramar conceded.

"In my experience, there isn't usually a lot of rehearsal for these things," Pyrrha said, turning her head to look back at the rest of them over her shoulder. "Once you try and rehearse, then a crowd turns out, and before you know it, the rehearsal has become the parade itself." She paused for a moment. "For my part, I am glad of it; I think that if these things are overmanaged, if they are repeated until they become rote … the sacred nature of the thing is lost."

"'Sacred'?" Terramar asked. "It's just a parade. It's all for show, right?"

"Not so," Pyrrha insisted, although not too strongly — she was only talking to a child after all. "Those students chosen to participate in the Vytal Tournament will not simply be marching through the streets of Vale but, by marching behind the Vytal flame, they will be dedicating themselves to the peace and harmony embodied by that flame and by the festival and the tournament."

"The tournament where you fight each other?" Silverstream asked, a tad sceptically.

Pyrrha smiled. "Better that we fight for the entertainment of the crowds within the arena than that we fight to the death outside of it, no? It is said that when the first annual tournament was instituted in Mistral, the Emperor of the day did so in order that his greatest warriors might have a place — an arena, if you will — to demonstrate their skills and their superiority without killing one another in duels. In a sense, the Vytal Festival descends from that same tradition."

"I'm guessing your views on the parade descend from the same place, too," Jaune suggested.

"Perhaps," Pyrrha conceded. "I have driven my chariot four times through the streets of Mistral to celebrate my victories, and on no occasion was it ever rehearsed at all; such a thing … it would have been blasphemous to Victory, almost."

By the time they arrived at the home of Silverstream and Terramar — a nice brownstone in a suburban district of Vale, the kind of place where every house came with an expansive garden out the back and a balcony over the front porch — the sun had sunk lower still in the sky, casting the city of Vale in an angry red glow.

It matched the mood of the city at the moment.

Silverstream fished her keys out of her purse and opened the door.

"We're home!" she called out, as Terramar stepped inside. In the doorway, Silverstream turned to the four students. "Do you guys want to come in for a second?"

"We wouldn't want to impose—" Pyrrha began.

"Come on, it's the least we can do to thank you guys," Silverstream insisted. "You can grab a coffee or a slice of pizza or something."

"It's a generous offer, but we'll be fine," Sunset said. "Tell Bramble I said hello."

"Okay, I'll tell him," Silverstream said. "Thanks again, all of you."

"You're welcome!" Ruby called, before Silverstream closed the door on them.

The four of them stood outside the now closed door, a momentary silence settling upon them.

"I'm glad we were able to help," Jaune said.

"Indeed," agreed Pyrrha.

Sunset folded her arms. "You know what? You know what really sticks in my craw about this? I bet Blake isn't having to put up with this crap in Atlas."

"You think so?" Jaune asked.

"I think if she was, she'd have come back here already," Sunset declared. "I came here … I came here because Vale was supposed to be better about this sort of thing."

"It is!" Ruby insisted. "It was. I don't know. It's like … it's like something just happened, something just changed. I don't get it. I don't get what's going on here."

XxXxX​

The barracks of Vale's Grenadier Guards regiment had three mess halls: one for officers, one for sergeants, and one for other ranks. The Other Ranks' Mess was a spacious room, a chamber that could comfortably fit more than the current seven hundred-strong strength of the unit. It looked like one part canteen — there were the serving stations at the back, where food could sit under heat lamps while a long queue of common soldiers waited with their wooden trays to get served — and one part club, complete with a bar at the north side of the room and wood-panelled walls covered in paintings and photographs commemorating the regiment's 'illustrious history.' The colours, emblazoned with battle honours — none of which, as far as Tempest could see, were more recent than the Great War — sat in the southwest corner.

Ordinarily, the mess hall would have been filled with tables, but tonight, some of the collapsible tables had been folded away while others had been joined together in the centre of the room, loosely covered by an array of tablecloths to form an ad-hoc stage.

And upon the stage, before the men and women of the Grenadier Guards — officers and NCOs included — seated all around, pranced Sonata Dusk.

Tempest couldn't hear the song that she had sung — although she wanted to, oh how she wanted to; the temptation to tear off her headphones was becoming ever stronger — but she could see the soldiers, sat all around the hastily prepared stage, clapping their hands together furiously; she could see them rising from their seats; she could hear their mouths moving and guessed that it wasn't insults that they were hurling her way.

At least, if the great beaming smile on Sonata's face was anything to go by.

Tempest judged the session was over now. It seemed to be; Sonata wasn't singing any more. At least it didn't look as though she was.

She risked taking off her headphones. Part of her wouldn't have minded being wrong about the song being over.

But she wasn't wrong. She was absolutely right. The song was over. Sonata was silent, smiling, waving her hands in the air as she was deluged with applause from all sides, cheering raining down upon her from the Valish soldiers gathered all around.

They were not fighting each other, as the civilians to whom Sonata sang were. They hadn't turned on each other; they were not consumed by quarrels. That was not part of the plan. The Valish soldiers, in their uniforms of forest green, the Valish soldiers who were thought so little of, who were so often discounted, who had been forced to stand idly by while the Atlesians saved their city, they were not divided against one another.

Rather, Sonata's song had united them against an external enemy.

"Thank you!" Sonata cried. "Thank you so much; you've been a wonderful audience! Thank you, Foot Guards, woo!" The cheering was redoubled, as if they were overjoyed that she had remembered their name. Sonata giggled bashfully. "How about three cheers for Atlas, huh?"

"Boo!" Not a single soul cheered, but everyone in the mess — nearly a thousand men and women, all told, including officers and the like — booed and jeered as loudly as they could, or worse still, cursed the name of Atlas.

"Well, that works too," Sonata said lightly. "Stay sharp out there, 'cause your time is gonna come! Are you going to be ready?"

"YEAH!" the soldiers chorused.

Sonata raised her fist in the air. "Are you gonna take your city back?"

"YEAH!"

"Are you gonna kick some Atlas ass?"

"YEAH!"

"Yeah!" Sonata cheered. "Show 'em what you've got, Vale!" she leaped down lightly off the stage, landed delicately upon the toe of one boot. "This is going to be sooooo awesome!"

 

[ScipioSmith]

Pyrrha's Challenge

​

"Are you sure you want to do this, P-money?" Arslan asked.

Pyrrha's brow furrowed a little beneath her gleaming circlet. "Do you think this is a bad idea as well?

The two of them stood, otherwise alone, near the cliffs on the edge of the school grounds. The wind that blew in from the Emerald Forest made Pyrrha's crimson sash dance around her legs and pushed her ponytail to the side; it even ruffled Arslan's untidy mane of pale hair somewhat.

"I didn't say that," Arslan said quickly. She paused for a moment. "Although—"

Pyrrha smiled. "Although you're about to."

"No, no," Arslan insisted. "I … I said that I would help you with this, and I will, but … let me ask you something: what makes you think she'll go for this? Cinder, I mean. You're going to go on air, make a song and dance, and then what?"

"And then she will answer," Pyrrha said.

"Why?" Arslan asked. "Why would she? How can you know that she will?"

"You think she won't?" asked Pyrrha, although the very fact that Arslan was asking the question made her scepticism plain.

In her place, I might be sceptical as well.

Arslan scratched the back of her head with one hand. "I've got to tell you, P, I have grown up with … well, without wishing to overegg the pudding too much, I grew up with some scum in our neighbourhood. They ran our neighbourhood. And some of them were smart, and some of them could be civil, and some of them could even show some manners sometimes, but none of them would go for this … unless it was a trap. Which I suppose means that I have two questions: what if she laughs at you, and what if she sets a trap?"

"I could ask you if it matters if she does answer," Pyrrha replied. "It does matter to me; I would much rather that she answered, and I think she will, but if she does not … I have nevertheless made my position clear. By challenging Cinder, I show that there is no affection between us, no compact, and I am willing to risk my life in order to prove it."

"Or you want people to think you are, while all the while sure that you won't actually have to put your money where your mouth is," Arslan suggested.

"I would hope that our people would not think so ill of me," Pyrrha said.

"If they didn't think ill of you, they wouldn't suspect you in the first place," Arslan said. "I don't know how it is in the high towers of the old blood, but down amongst the lower slopes, the famous Mistralian honour is a little … threadbare. Especially amongst crooks and gangsters."

"Cinder is…" Pyrrha paused for a moment, considering her response. Her thoughts turned to the last time she and Cinder had crossed blades, in the darkness beneath Mountain Glenn. "'Long have I desired to match my skill against you.'"

"Hmm?" Arslan asked, frowning.

"That's what she said to me, the last time we fought," Pyrrha explained.

Arslan's eyebrows rose. "You've fought before?"

Pyrrha nodded.

Arslan hesitated. "Do I want to ask…?"

"I survived, and so did she," Pyrrha said softly. "She had … somewhat the best of it, although she is the one who drew the battle to a close by fleeing. But before that, she said to me those words 'long have I desired to match my skill against you.' I was alone, except for Jaune; Sunset and Ruby were engaged elsewhere, as were our Atlesian friends. Cinder was alone. And she seemed glad of the fact."

"Don't let your vanity blind you, Pride of Mistral. For I am Cinder Fall, chosen of the dark, and I will make you my factor and pluck all the renown and honours off your brow and take them for my own."

"Cinder desires the glory of my overthrow," Pyrrha said. "That's how I know she will accept, and that is how I know that she will not steal a victory by setting a trap for me. That wouldn't give her what she wants."

"She wants it enough to risk her own life?" Arslan asked.

"It lacks the frisson of excitement that comes from lives on the line, from knowing that nobody is going to step in when your aura gets into the red. From knowing that your aura is all that stands between you and oblivion."

"Undoubtedly," Pyrrha replied. The one issue in all of this — which she could not mention to Arslan, of course — was Salem, but then, Salem had taken pains to present herself to them as a better lord than Professor Ozpin, a ring giver, a good mistress; surely, then, she would not begrudge her champion this chance to prove herself and to achieve her heart's desire. After all, what would Cinder's death really cost her, if she fell by Pyrrha's hands? She had failed already, her stroke defeated, her plans consumed. What was the difference, for Salem, between losing a champion that she could replace at her leisure or waiting for that champion to possibly devise another plan? And if Cinder won, then … at the risk of vanity, some negative emotion might be spread by it. What reason, therefore, had Salem to refuse?

"She told me she would pluck the honours from my brow," Pyrrha went on. "It is not merely my death she wants; that, she could accomplish by blowing me up or shooting me from a great distance. What she wants, she can only get from what I offer her: a battle between us, with lives at the hazard."

Arslan was quiet for a moment. "And you believe her? She wasn't just grandstanding?"

"No," Pyrrha said. "I have reason to think she was sincere."

"Hmm," Arslan murmured. "Then … okay, I can see why you think that this will get her to come and play, I suppose. It sounds mad looking at it from the outside, but I get it." Her lip twitched. "You were quick to think I was going to condemn this whole idea; is Jaune giving you a hard time about this?"

"No," Pyrrha said at once. "Jaune is … not happy about it, but at the same time, he believes in me. Almost his exact words." For which I am very grateful; if even Jaune didn't believe that I could win this fight, I … I don't know what I'd do.

It was for that reason that Sunset's concern irked her somewhat. She understood that it came from love, but at the same time, she rather wished that her best friend would have some faith in her to triumph.

Of course — and this was the reason why Pyrrha was not worse than irked by Sunset's attitude — Cinder was dangerous, and there was a chance that Pyrrha might lose this battle, and if she lost, she could not expect to survive. She did not expect to lose; she would not have taken this course, for these stakes, if she had not thought that she would — she could — prevail; but, as she had conceded in the dorm room, nothing was certain in battle, and she would further concede that Cinder Fall was not an opponent to be taken lightly.

As I know all too well.

So, even while she might like Sunset to be cheering her on, she could understand her wariness in this.

If our places were reversed, I would probably be wary too.

Arslan nodded. "That's good to hear. So it's Sunset and Ruby then?"

Pyrrha sighed. "Sunset … Sunset is … overprotective. I think the fact that my mother charged her to protect me has not helped in that regard, although in fairness to my mother, I think Sunset would be overprotective in any event."

Arslan snorted. "If you need protection, then what hope is there for any of us?"

"Mmm."

"Pyrrha?"

"I was just thinking," Pyrrha murmured. "I cannot entirely begrudge Sunset her concern since, if our places were reversed, I would be concerned about her too. Arslan, can I ask you a question?"

Arslan shrugged. "Shoot."

"Am I being terribly selfish?" Pyrrha asked. "Risking my life, risking the hurt to Jaune, to Sunset, for…"

Arslan waited a moment. "Well, that's the point, isn't it?" she asked. "What are you doing it for?"

"For … for myself," Pyrrha replied. "To prove that I can."

"I thought you were doing this to prove Phoebe wrong."

"Well, that too," Pyrrha said softly, "but that alone might not suffice to move me, if…" She trailed off. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be asking you about such things."

"No, it's no problem," Arslan assured her. She paused for a second. "I told my parents recently that I wasn't going back to the arena after this, that I'd changed my mind, and I was going to give being a huntress a proper go. Mom didn't take it very well. I thought…" She ran one hand through her mess of hair. "I thought it was the money that she was upset about, the loss of the income, the lifestyle, so I told her that I'd been careful with the money — which I have — and it was all diversified, and there was more than enough."

"What did she say to that?" asked Pyrrha.

"She bit my head off," Arslan answered. "Said that it wasn't about the money; it was about me, fighting monsters instead of fighting in a tournament with rules." There was another pause. "Are you expecting a hard fight?"

Pyrrha nodded. "I don't take Cinder lightly. As I said, the last time we fought … she had me on the back foot, at times, but that was done by using the terrain against me and taking me by surprise with what she was capable of. I'm aware now of what she can do, and the ground will not be so to her advantage. Yet, nevertheless, I do not take her lightly."

"Okay," Arslan said. "Okay, let's … let's say that Cinder Fall has what it takes. Let's say she's better than me and can do what I haven't managed yet." She pulled a face, sticking her tongue out and squinting her eyes; she looked as though she might be sick on the grass. "If you die, then Jaune will be heartbroken, and your friends, and your mother—"

"Thank you," Pyrrha muttered.

"I can't stand here and tell you that it's worth it," Arslan said, "but I certainly, sure as anything, can't tell you that it isn't worth it. Only you can answer that, P-money; only you can say whether or not you're risking it all for something worthwhile. So come on, answer your own question: is it worth it to you?"

Pyrrha was silent a moment. She bowed her head, some of her ponytail falling upon her shoulder, and yet, when she spoke a chuckle escaped her lips. "It's funny," she said. "I came to Beacon hoping that I could be Pyrrha Nikos. Not the Invincible Girl, not the Evenstar of Mistral, not the Princess Without a Crown, just Pyrrha Nikos. And yet … and yet, now I find that, without these things … without the Invincible Girl, I hardly feel like Pyrrha Nikos at all. Like a costume that I have worn for so long that I don't know how to live without it." She looked up. "I have to do this for the sake of myself, for the sake of the person I want to be. Yes, it is worth it."

"Then do it," Arslan said, "and don't get put off by the fact that people are worried about you." She grinned. "Besides, you've got nothing to worry about; you're going to kick her ass for sure."

One corner of Pyrrha's lip turned upwards. "Thank you for the vote of confidence."

"Well, it would be a fine thing if the Champion of Mistral—"

"I'm not going to be the Champion for very much longer," Pyrrha pointed out.

"You'll be a Champion of Hearts, P-money," Arslan declared. "And it would be a fine thing if you lost to some scumbag who might as well have sprung out of the ground for all that anyone can work out where she came from." Arslan hesitated. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Pyrrha replied. "I think you've earned it, by agreeing to help me."

"Do you know what she is, Cinder Fall?" Arslan asked. "I mean … she's bad news, but … what does she want? What kind of human works with the White Fang? What does an enemy of mankind even mean? What's she up to?"

Pyrrha was silent for a few moments, considering her response. Considering how she might answer around all the things that she could not tell Arslan about. "Cinder … Cinder is very angry," she said, "and out of her wrath, she'll sow destruction, if she is allowed."

"For what cause?"

"I don't know," Pyrrha lied, and felt guilty about the lie; it pricked her like a dagger's point. But it could not be avoided. "Perhaps she has no cause except her anger."

Arslan whistled. "Well … okay, then." She clasped her hands together behind her head. "Either way, whoever she is, she is … our shame. We brought a rabid dog into someone else's house, which is even worse than bringing it into your house, because you're responsible for everyone that it bites. But if anyone can erase our shame, it's Mistral's pride and joy. So do it for Mistral, okay? But, you know, no pressure." She winked.

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as she chuckled. "I'm not sure there is any pressure you could place upon me that I do not already feel, but … I will do my best to oblige my home, even as I prove to it my fidelity."

"So what's your strategy?" Arslan asked.

"Calm," Pyrrha answered. "Cinder fights with her anger; if I can keep my head, I should prevail."

Arslan nodded. "Simple, but smart," she pronounced. She got out her scroll. "Okay, now you stand with your back to the cliffs, and that way, I can back away from you to get the right shot without falling off the cliff in the process." She unfolded the device and held it up in front of her face, although Pyrrha could still see her eyes over the top of it.

"That background is a bit boring," Arslan said. "I think I'll replace it with one that makes it look like we shot this in front of the school. In front of that statue in the middle of the fountain, that'll be cool."

"You can do that?" Pyrrha asked.

Arslan lowered her scroll for a moment. "Yeah, I know tons about editing videos," she said. "When I started out, I couldn't afford a publicist or anything like that, so I made my own publicity. I learned how to video edit, and then I made my own fun videos about my training sessions and my upcoming fights."

"Is that where the video of you running up the steps of the art gallery came from?"

Arslan grinned. "Yeah, that was my biggest hit. Anyway: Beacon background?"

Pyrrha considered it for a moment. "Very well."

"Awesome," Arslan said. "Now, just to make sure I get the right view." She took a couple of steps backwards as she raised her scroll again. "Okay. Game face and … go!"

Pyrrha breathed in. She was wearing Miló and Akoúo̱ across her back, and Miló at least would be visible over her shoulder; it seemed appropriate for what she was about to do. She set her face, an even expression, not too stern, but serious all the same. Unafraid.

"Hello," she said, in a voice which she endeavoured to keep calm. "My name is Pyrrha Nikos. In recent days, I have been subject to allegations regarding my complicity with a certain criminal named Cinder Fall. Cinder Fall was, amongst other things, partly responsible for the Breach, the recent attack on the kingdom of Vale. I say to all of you, I swear to all of you, that I had nothing to do with that attack, that I have no relations with Cinder Fall, and that I see her only as my enemy.

"But I don't expect anyone to take my word for it. After all, everything that I have said is exactly what someone in my position would say, whether it was true or not. And so I mean to prove to my accusers, to all my fans whose support means so much to me, and to everyone who has an opinion on the matter, that Cinder Fall is only my enemy.

"To Cinder herself, I have this message: I, Pyrrha Nikos, challenge you to meet me in single combat. Where you dare and when you dare, there we shall meet in a battle to the death. One shall stand; one shall fall." She worried that that might sound a little overdramatic, but surely if there was any place for over-drama, it was when challenging someone to a duel to the death. "If you do not accept, then all of Remnant will know that you are a coward."

XxXxX​

"So, as we've just seen there, a … rather dramatic response by Pyrrha Nikos to the recent allegations made against her. Joining us in the studio to discuss this is historian and Professor of History at Beacon Academy, Doctor Bartholomew Oobleck; welcome."

"Thank you, Lisa, it's a pleasure to be here." The words galloped out of Doctor Oobleck's mouth like horses at the beginning of a race.

Ozpin, watching today's episode of The Lavender Report on the holographic screen projected above his desk, leaned back in his chair ever so slightly. He found it mildly interesting that they had chosen to have a historian guest to discuss this, although he felt as though he understood why.

Just as he understood why they had sought out Doctor Oobleck specifically.

Lisa Lavender herself sat with her legs together, but bent to one side, so that her feet were resting sideways upon the light blue carpet of the studio. "So, Doctor, what do you make of this response by Pyrrha Nikos?"

"Well, it's certainly a very Mistralian response," Oobleck said. "Classically so, in fact. You only need to look back into Mistralian history to see that the answering of insult with a sword is woven into the fabric of Mistralian elite society. And of course, one cannot ignore the fact that in Mistral, it is still perfectly legal to challenge opponents to — and indeed to fight them in — duels."

"So you're saying, as Miss Nikos' teacher, that this is a normal response from her?"

And there it is, thought Ozpin.

Oobleck laughed. "Aha, Lisa, I think you're trying to put words into my mouth. But no. Miss Nikos is an excellent student who has had no disciplinary problems and does not engage in violence outside of combat class or approved training missions. No. But of course, allegations of this sort are not normal either. These are extraordinary accusations that have been made against Miss Nikos, and it is not surprising that they warrant an extraordinary response. What is interesting is the fact that this challenge is directed at Miss Fall."

"What do you mean by that? Who would you expect it to be directed towards?"

"Why, to the accuser of course," Oobleck responded. "Slander of this nature—"

"You believe that the accusations are false?"

"Of course I do; Miss Nikos is a student at—"

"But wasn't Miss Fall posing as a student?" Lisa asked.

"Miss Nikos has participated in several actions which have defended or otherwise benefited Vale," Oobleck declared. "Including assisting in the capture of Roman Torchwick, helping to foil a White Fang dust robbery, and helping to defend the Breach and prevent a massive grimm incursion into the heart of this very city! Does that sound like the behaviour of a traitor to you? The very idea is preposterous, and as I was saying, such slander would certainly be grounds for a duel to the death in Mistralian culture even today. However, rather than challenging her accuser, Miss Nikos has challenged Miss Fall, although she is as much the subject of these allegations as Miss Nikos is."

"Why do you think that is?" Lisa asked. "Is it because the identity of the source of these allegations is unknown?"

"No, I think it is because Miss Nikos does not want to merely silence these scurrilous allegations but to answer them," Oobleck replied. "As she said herself, she wishes to prove which side she's on."

"But isn't this all a bit of a publicity stunt, in the end; I mean how likely is Cinder Fall to answer this challenge?"

"I'm afraid I couldn't possibly say with any certainty; I only knew Miss Fall very briefly when she was masquerading as a Haven Academy student, and in any case, I couldn't take her behaviour while masquerading as a guide to her real self; however, I will say that I doubt Miss Nikos would have made this very public gesture without some expectation that it would be answered. Otherwise, as you say, it would risk looking like a publicity stunt."

"But of course, there is also a risk that if Cinder Fall does not answer this challenge, then she risks looking, as Miss Nikos said herself, like a coward, isn't that right?" Lisa asked.

Not that that would bother some of Salem's servants, Ozpin thought. Some, most of them probably, would have laughed off a challenge such as that which Miss Nikos had thrown down. They would have called it childish, naïve. It was childish and naïve in some ways: come face me, alone, bereft of all advantages, in a clean battle in which only our respective skills matter. Who would answer such a challenge as that, with so much to lose and nothing to gain?

Nothing but the maintenance of reputation, which would be lost if the challenge were to be refused.

That was the answer, of course: only someone who cared excessively about their reputation would accept a challenge such as this one. Miss Nikos seemed to think that Miss Fall was such a one, and it was true that Salem had made use of servants with such a temperament in the past.

Something which she may come to regret.

A flashing green indicator in the corner of the holographic screen alerted Ozpin to an incoming call. Turning off The Lavender Report, Ozpin was able to see that the call was coming from the First Councillor.

Oh, joy.

Ozpin took a deep breath and put on a benign and genial smile before he answered, "Good afternoon, Councillor."

"A duel?" Councillor Emerald asked him. "A duel to the death?"

"Ah, I see you've been watching the news," Ozpin replied.

"Of course I watch the news; it's how I find out what the people are thinking," Councillor Emerald replied. "What is going on up there, Ozpin?"

"To be blunt, Councillor, I could ask you what's going on in Vale," Ozpin replied. "Anti-faunus sentiment on the rise, anti-Atlas sentiment—"

"I'm aware," Councillor Emerald said.

"We cannot have the Vytal Festival ruined by factional division—"

"I am aware!" Councillor Emerald snapped. "You think that I don't know what's going on? Novo's children were followed halfway home by some human drunk harassing them." He paused for a moment. "They said that Miss Shimmer and Miss Nikos and their team stepped in to defend and comfort them, and then escorted them the rest of the way. That was … very good of them. I would be grateful if you could pass on the thanks and appreciation of myself and Novo."

"I will," Ozpin promised.

"Why would someone who was willing to condemn the whole of Vale to death stop and help two people being harassed on the street?" asked Councillor Emerald.

Ozpin paused for a moment. "I think … when one thinks of a city, a kingdom, it is easy to conceptualise it as something abstract, a piece on a board, a name on a map. Take it off the board, wipe it off the map, what matter that? Two people seen on the street are … two people. They cannot be anything else." Another pause. "And I think Miss Shimmer feels for those she has met more than she ever could for those she has not."

Councillor Emerald snorted. "A human enough flaw, I suppose, even if she does carry it to excess. I'm increasing police numbers in the tourist areas of Vale, in order to ensure that the Vytal Festival is not disturbed. If that's not enough, I'll call in the army."

"And what of those faunus who are not so fortunate as to live in the tourist areas of Vale?" Ozpin asked.

"I'm a faunus myself, Ozpin, as you can plainly see," Councillor Emerald said sharply, "and I resent the implication that I'm leaving them behind. The fact is that many faunus distrust the police, and for good reason, an increased police presence … could make things worse. So far, there has been no evidence of humans going into faunus parts of Vale looking for trouble. If that changes…" He sighed. "I don't understand what's happening to this city, Ozpin; I can't get my arms around it."

"Neither can I," Ozpin admitted. "This present agitation seems to be, if not quite sui generis, then it has certainly escalated at an unnatural pace."

"With luck, it will die down just as swiftly, once Ironwood and his army take their leave of us," Councillor Emerald said. He shook his head. "To return to the business at hand … a duel, Ozpin, really? Was this your idea?"

"No, Councillor, Miss Nikos came up with this plan all by herself," Ozpin replied. "I did, however, give her my approval."

"Did you?" Councillor Emerald muttered. "Of course you did. You are aware, I hope, that duelling is illegal in Vale. It has been for over two hundred years."

"And yet, the last recorded duel was fought only a hundred and fifty years ago," Ozpin pointed out.

"That doesn't mean that Pyrrha Nikos can break the law just because she feels slighted."

"Fighting the enemies of man is not illegal," Ozpin said. "In fact, it is precisely what a huntress ought to do."

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying that perhaps we should allow the Mistralians to use whatever terminology they like," Ozpin said, "while we focus on the salient point: when the dust settles, the person responsible for the Breach might not be a problem anymore."

"So … this is a trap?"

"No, Miss Nikos is in perfect earnest," Ozpin said, "but her earnestness may yet serve … a greater purpose."

Councillor Emerald's eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to sound sinister?"

"No, Councillor."

"Then you should have chosen a different way to word that," Councillor Emerald said. "In any event … you make a very good point, regarding the legality of it. And of course, issuing a challenge to a duel isn't illegal, only fighting one is. So we will let this play out and see if it doesn't come to some good. Keep me informed, won't you?"

Ozpin nodded. "Of course, Councillor. Good day."

He hung up on the First Councillor just as the elevator door opened and General Ironwood walked in.

"Oz."

"Good afternoon, James," Ozpin said. He allowed himself a smile. "Allow me to guess why you might be here."

"A duel, Oz?" Ironwood asked. "Seriously?"

"It is the Mistralian way."

"It's Mistralian nostalgic nonsense," Ironwood said, "and you know it."

Ozpin's smile widened ever so slightly. He clasped his hands together, resting his elbows upon his lap. "You know, I cannot help but recall a young Atlesian officer I once knew who fought a duel against Leo—"

Ironwood cleared his throat. "Yes, well… just because I was once young and stupid, Oz, is no reason why you should let other people be stupid just because they're young." He clasped his hands behind his back, glancing away from Ozpin. "In any case, neither Leo nor I was ever at risk of dying; we fought until his aura broke, nothing more." He paused for a moment, before adding in a far more sullen tone, "And besides, it's not like I got anything out of it anyway."

Ozpin's tone was more sympathetic than it had been, as he said, "Duelling may or may not be, as you put it, nostalgic nonsense, but duelling over a woman … that is old-fashioned, even for me."

"You make it sound as though the winner was going to own her," Ironwood muttered. "It wasn't like that."

"Nevertheless I think that is rather how Luna saw the matter," Ozpin said, "judging by the way that she—"

"Threw a glass of water in my face, declared 'I am not a prize to be won,' and stormed off?" Ironwood said.

"Yes," Ozpin murmured. "Exactly. Has she forgiven you yet?"

"I don't know; I mostly talk to Celestia," Ironwood admitted. "I think she overreacted. It wasn't even my fault; Leo was the one who challenged me. What was I supposed to do?"

"You could have laughed at him," Ozpin suggested. "I think Luna might have preferred it if you had."

"Then shouldn't Miss Nikos be laughing at these allegations?" Ironwood suggested. "I say it again, Oz, nobody was in danger of their life when I fought Leo. This … she could die, Oz."

The smile slid off Ozpin's face. His voice, when he spoke in response, was soft and quiet. "I'm aware."

"There aren't so many people like her around that we can afford to just throw them away."

"I'm aware."

"And it wouldn't be the first time that we've lost someone because they were too bold and too sure of themselves and they walked into something—"

"I'm aware," Ozpin said, his voice rising to quiet James.

Ironwood was silent for a moment. "Of course you are, I didn't mean to imply … I meant no disrespect."

He turned away from Ozpin and walked to the windows that ran around three sides of the office, looking out across Beacon and Vale beyond, with the General's own warships visible in the sky.

Ozpin could see his back, and his hands clasped behind his back, as he stood before the glass looking out.

"Children," Ironwood said softly. "Children make mistakes. They overestimate their strength, they misjudge the importance of things; it's our job … it's our job to teach them better, but if we can't, if … failing that, it's our job to stop them making these mistakes in the first place."

"You think this is a mistake?" Ozpin asked.

Ironwood turned around to look at him. "You don't?"

"Not necessarily," Ozpin replied.

"If she dies," Ironwood said. "I thought you had plans for her?"

"But if she wins," Ozpin said, "then it may be some time before the shadow grows again."

"You think so?" Ironwood asked. "Don't you think you're forgetting about Autumn?"

"She will not risk her in the front lines, having gone to such lengths to attain her," Ozpin said. "To send her into the midst of our fortress, where she could so easily be lost? Madness. She will keep her safe, as we have done, and ensure that at the very least the power may be passed on to someone of her own choosing. That, at least, is what I would do."

"Well then," Ironwood said, "if killing Cinder will accomplish all that you hope, then all the more reason to let me put my team on stand by-"

"No, James," Ozpin said firmly. "We will let Miss Nikos handle this her own way."

"Why?" Ironwood demanded. "With so much at stake, why take the risk?"

"Because Miss Nikos needs this," Ozpin informed him. "She needs this, and so, she will have it. I think … I think it is the very least that we can do for her."

XxXxX​

"'Coward'?" Cinder repeated. "She calls me 'coward'? How very boldly Mistral's princess gives commands: I must answer her challenge or be known as a coward." It had been bad enough - quite, quite bad enough - when some oik had presumed to suggest that she and Pyrrha might be in league together. The absurdity of it! As if she would ever associate with that overhyped, overrated, pampered milksop. As if she would ever bend her back to take commands from Princess Popular, so beloved. Had they no thought to Cinder's pride? Did they think so little of her that she could be nothing but a henchman for the golden girl, the people's darling Pyrrha Nikos?

She had been tempted to write to the editor and complain about falling standards in journalism.

Yes, that had been quite bad enough, but this? To be thought a subordinate to someone she hated was one thing, but to be accused of cowardice was something else altogether.

Cinder turned around, turning from the window of the Portchester Manor library to face the others gathered behind her. "Now, I ask you, was there any need for that?"

"It was kind of rude," Sonata agreed. "What if you didn't feel like fighting? What if you had a stomach ache? It would really suck if you couldn't go out and fight her for perfectly good reasons and everyone thought that you were just scared, right?"

"It wasn't rude; it was transparent," Tempest declared. She folded her arms. "A transparent attempt to goad you into answering this ridiculous challenge."

"'Ridiculous'?" Cinder said, rolling the word around on her tongue before spitting it back out again. "'Ridiculous.' 'This ridiculous challenge.' Is that what you think?"

Tempest Shadow blinked. "Well … yes. Obviously. What kind of—?"

"Cinder will answer," Emerald said, speaking quickly, before Tempest could say anything that might give Cinder cause to do something Tempest would regret. "Cinder will not back down from this challenge, will you, Cinder?"

Cinder smiled at her. "No, Emerald, I will not. Would you care to explain to the Atlesian philistine over there," she gestured towards Tempest, "why I will not?"

Emerald managed the difficult feat of smiling and looking a little nervous at the same time. She clasped her hands together in front of her and shuffled awkwardly upon her feet, scraping her shoes upon the wooden floor.

"Take your time," Cinder murmured. "You know the answer."

Emerald glanced at her and nodded in a short, sharp gesture. "Because," she said, "even if Pyrrha hadn't said it, the unspoken subtext would be there: if you do not answer, if you do not meet me in combat, then you are coward, afraid of me. No warrior would subject themselves to such humiliation in the eyes of their enemies. Secondly, because as Doctor Oobleck kind of explained on the news, what Pyrrha has done has a long history in Mistral. It's tradition; it goes way back." She looked at Cinder again. "It goes back to The Mistraliad, right? When, um … uh … Paris?"

"Pandarus," Cinder corrected her gently.

"Right, Pandarus for the Mistralians and Melanippe for the Danaeans agreed to meet to duel for the fate of the princess and the city," Emerald said, her voice gaining more confidence as she went. "And when Pandarus fled, he was known as a coward by everyone on both sides."

"So what?" Lightning Dust demanded.

"So … Pyrrha is appealing to ancient rules and customs," Emerald explained, "and they bind Cinder to answer."

"Unless those ancient rules and customs are going to strike her dead if she doesn't do anything, then I don't see that they 'bind' her or anyone else," Lightning replied. "Ignore them. Flip them off. Who cares if your enemies think that you're a coward?"

"I care," Cinder said, in a voice that was yet soft, but had nevertheless acquired some sharpness to it.

Lightning shuffled a little. "I mean … they already think we're evil."

"Yet they may think me valiant in my villainy," Cinder said. "I will not have Pyrrha Nikos think that I was afraid to face her. I will not have her think that I cower in some hiding place, cringing into the shadows, silent as she calls out my name, as though we played hide and seek and I sought to evade her gaze. I will not have it said that I was afeared of any foe arrayed against us; I am Cinder Fall!"

She took a step forward, towards them all, her doubting subordinates, and as she strode, she jabbed at her own chest with one finger. "I am Cinder Fall, and I will eat the heart of Pyrrha Nikos in the marketplace! Why should I not answer this challenge?" She chuckled. "The fool has cooked herself for dinner. She challenges me. She will face me in single combat, when I dare and where I dare."

She let out a gasping laugh as she spread her arms out wide. "This is what I wanted. This was always my intent. A battle between us to the death, one shall stand and one shall fall, and when Pyrrha falls, as she will, at my hand, then … what then? How will they weep in Mistral, how will they gnash their teeth, how will they wail for their fallen Evenstar, their Princess Without a Crown? How they will…"

"Cinder?" Emerald murmured.

"They will look for her coming from the White Tower," Cinder whispered, "but she will not return, by land or by air."

She laughed softly, gently. "It … it occurs to me that when I strike Pyrrha down, I … I do her service. She might not see it so, Jaune will not see it so, and Sunset neither, but … when she falls, in valiant struggle against a contemptible foe … will not her reputation gleam golden evermore? Will they not raise a great and towering monument to her memory? Will she not live on in the hearts of all men?"

And will I not live on beside her, our fates intertwined, her story inseparable from the name of her killer? As her reputation gleams effulgent, mine will be as black as polished obsidian. I shall be Mistral's dark demon forevermore, the monster who brought down the Evenstar.

I would rather be remembered as a monster than be forgotten.

I would not be forgotten for all the treasure in the world.

She would not … she would not be her parents, dead and dust and gone from memory before the season turned. She would … be immortal, though she purchased it with blood and condemnation and every hand in Remnant turned against her.

"Very romantic," Tempest drawled. "What if you lose?"

Cinder raised one eyebrow. "You don't believe in me, Tempest Shadow?"

"It's a fair question," Tempest said. "What if you lose, what if Pyrrha kills you?"

"I have no intention of losing to Pyrrha Nikos," Cinder said, because of course, if she lost to Pyrrha, then she would be … nothing. Dust beneath Pyrrha's chariot wheels, just one of a great host of foes fallen or defeated. She had to kill Pyrrha in order to attain the infamy that she desired. "My life is not Pyrrha's to take; I will win."

"You cannot be certain of that," Tempest said.

Cinder' eyes narrowed as she advanced upon her. "You are beginning to move beyond a simple lack of faith and into insolence."

"'Insolence'?" Tempest repeated. "Is it insolent to say that we need you alive? If you die, then our Mistress—"

"My Mistress," Cinder said sharply. "Not yours. You are a servant to a servant. Right now, I am your mistress. Do not forget your place, or shall I remind you of it?"

"No," Tempest said, bowing her head. "That … will not be necessary. Nevertheless, I … as your servant, I wish to express my … concerns—"

"Your concern is touching, of course," Cinder said, "but the consequences of my defeat are none of your concern, not least because there is nothing to be concerned about. I will not fail. I will not lose. I will not suffer to fall at Pyrrha's hands."

But if I did … if I do…

If I do, then I will be forgotten.

And as much to the point, I will be dead, and all of Salem's plans will be much of a muchness to me.

I am not here to serve Salem only. I am not her puppet, to do her will obediently — no, not even obediently, thoughtlessly.

I am not ungrateful, for all that she has done and given me; I am not unmindful that she has made me strong. And for her gifts, I'll render up to her a golden crown as she desires while I yet live.

If I live.

For I am not her factor, I am not put on Remnant to do nought but as she commands, I am Cinder Fall, and I must do as I will.

I may be servant to a mistress, but I am no one's slave.

So, if I fall — a very unlikely event — let Salem howl.

After all, I'll be dead.

"You three may leave now," she said, gesturing at Tempest, Lightning, and Sonata. "That will be all. Emerald, remain, if you will; there are further matters where I will require your assistance."

"I—" Tempest began.

"That will be all," Cinder said in a voice as sharp as a blade.

Tempest scowled for a moment, but turned away and joined Lightning and Sonata in making her way out of the library.

"Close the door, Emerald," Cinder said as they left. "Please."

Emerald gave a brief smile, walked briskly and with a light tread — but with much improved posture all the same — to close the door.

She lingered there, one hand upon the door handle.

"Cinder…" she murmured. "May … may I speak freely?"

Cinder tilted her head ever so slightly sideways. "You would dissuade me from accepting this challenge also?"

"I didn't want to say anything in front of the others," Emerald said. "I … I know it's not my place, and I didn't want you to think that I was siding with Tempest over you, but … I don't see the point of this."

"You articulated the point very well, I thought," Cinder said.

"I know; I mean, I understand," Emerald said. "I understand why you feel as though you have to do this, but … but I don't agree. Rules and conventions, honour, what … what does it matter? Who does it help? Isn't it all just the way that people like Pyrrha get their way over people like us? And besides…"

Cinder waited for her for a moment. No words came. "You may speak," Cinder urged. "I will not be angry."

"You won't?"

"Not with you," Cinder assured her. "We are … something close to equals now; you are a quick study. I would not be wrath with you as I would be with Tempest or Lightning."

"Okay," Emerald said softly. "Then … then I think you're wrong. I think that this is pointless; I think that … the world that you want to live in, the world that you want to believe in, it doesn't exist. You can kill Pyrrha, as I'm sure you will, but what then?"

"She will be remembered, and I—"

"No," Emerald said, "she won't. She won't gleam golden in memory, she won't be put on a pedestal, she'll be a rotting corpse in the ground somewhere, and those who loved her best will have forgotten about her before the year turns. Jaune, Sunset, they'll move… forward; Jaune will find someone else to love, and Mistral? Mistral will find another performing seal to fawn over. They won't remember her, and they certainly won't remember you. If they find it worth their while to kill you, then … they will not remember you after."

Cinder was silent for a moment, staring at Emerald. "You speak … did it require boldness on your part to speak thus?"

Emerald swallowed and nodded silently.

You speak the fear that is in my heart. After all, that had been the fate of her mother, bold-hearted pilot though she was; that had been the fate of her father, a good and honest gentleman. That too had been the fate of her stepmother and stepsisters; where was Phoebe's mourning to be seen?

And yet … and yet, she hoped for more for herself. She hoped for more for Pyrrha Nikos, and that moreness would secure more for herself.

"What would you have me do instead?" she asked.

"Live?" Emerald suggested. "Live for yourself, and for the moment; not for your hopes of lasting memory."

Cinder chuckled. "Pyrrha's choice. A long unmemorable existence, or a brief life and immortal memory."

"Maybe she chose wrong," Emerald suggested.

I cannot live, for I have nothing to live for. "Seek not to alter me, Emerald," Cinder said. "I am … I am too far gone." And I have been altered too much already. "Seek not to alter me. I did not ask you to stay so that you would persuade me from my course, but because I need your help."

"My help?" Emerald asked. "With what?"

"Convention dictates that the two combatants, who are assumed by convention to have a quarrel between them, should have no contact before the duel itself; all communication is by trusted intermediaries. Out of all them, you are the only one I trust, and so I ask that you serve as my intermediary in this and arrange a suitable place where we will not be observed or disturbed by General Ironwood's men or any Valish authorities."

"I … of course," Emerald murmured. "I can't say that I'm honoured, even though I kind of feel as though I should say that, but I will do it." She paused. "Pyrrha's trusted intermediary—"

"I suggest you start," Cinder said, "by calling Sunset."

XxXxX​

"Ridiculous," Tempest muttered. "Absolutely ridiculous."

"Yeah, you were acting kind of strange in there," Sonata said.

Tempest stopped — as did Lightning Dust, for that matter — and stared at her. "Me?"

Sonata stopped too. "Oh, I'm sorry, were you talking about someone else?"

"Cinder!" Tempest snapped. "She can't do this."

"Why not?" Sonata asked. "I thought we wanted her out of the—"

"Not so loud!" Tempest hissed, covering her mouth with one hand.

Sonata's eyes widened. When Tempest withdrew her hand, she spoke in a noticeably quieter voice. "Oh, right, sorry. But still, I thought—"

"Unfortunately," Lightning muttered, "much as I wouldn't mind seeing the back of her either, we can't do it without her."

Sonata frowned. "No?"

"No," Tempest agreed. "Cinder … the only path to our Mistress' designs lies through her. Without her, our Mistress' goals cannot be achieved, and all of this is pointless."

"And she won't let my sisters go," Sonata whispered.

"She must be informed of this disobedience," Tempest said.

"Ooh, I've got a better idea," Sonata said. "What about if she wasn't—"

"Weren't you listening?" Lightning demanded. "If Cinder dies, then—"

"Yet," Sonata finished. "What if we didn't tell anyone … yet?"

There was silence amongst the three of them for a moment.

"'Yet,'" Tempest murmured.

"'Yet,'" Lightning repeated approvingly.

"'Yet,'" Tempest said again.

The more she said it, the more she liked the sound of it.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Challenge Accepted

​

This was going better than Phoebe had expected.

It was going better than she had dared to hope.

It was true that Pyrrha had blunted a lot of the force of Phoebe's accusations and won great plaudits by her dramatic response; Mistralians loved a good piece of theatre, her people were depressingly prone to hero worship, and what was more quintessentially heroic than proving your innocence in single combat, than in pointing your sword at some foe and challenging them to a duel to the death? All of that was true, and under different circumstances, it might have made Phoebe bitter, but in the present circumstances…

Well, it wasn't just that Pyrrha had blunted Phoebe's attack line, was it? Yes, she had, although Phoebe yet had hope that she had not done so as completely as she might have liked; the initial buzz was strong for Pyrrha, but that wasn't to say that there would not remain some lingering doubts about the truth … but let that lie for now.

The reason why Pyrrha had not, could not, dampen Phoebe's mood — the reason, in fact, why she felt particularly buoyant at the moment — was because of how Pyrrha had chosen to respond.

It was precisely because Pyrrha had pointed a sword at her enemy and challenged her to a duel to the death that Phoebe felt almost like singing.

It was too good! It was delicious! A duel to the death! To the death!

To risk her life, to hazard it in single combat, what a fool she was. What a fearless, foolish idiot was Pyrrha Nikos. If she died … Phoebe so very much hoped that she died. Phoebe would have prayed that Pyrrha would die if she had believed in any gods with sufficient faith or fervour to pray to them.

If Pyrrha died, then a great shadow would be excised from Phoebe's life. She would be … she would be free. No more dogged by Pyrrha, no more overshadowed by Pyrrha, no more bested by Pyrrha.

No more outshone by Pyrrha in all respects.

And to think that all it had taken were some rumours, and Pyrrha was going to her death voluntarily.

Well, perhaps. Phoebe hoped so anyway. Admittedly, it could not be taken for granted. As Phoebe knew too well, Pyrrha had a very annoying habit of winning battles. It might be that she would triumph over this Cinder Fall and return trailing even more clouds of glory.

That would be … frustrating, to say the least.

If that happened, then Phoebe … Phoebe would deal with it. She would cast doubt upon the outcome of a trial by combat, she would suggest that Cinder Fall was not actually dead, she would continue to spread malicious rumour through the world. What was Pyrrha going to do about that? The problem with such a dramatic gesture was that you could only do it once.

Much like dying.

If all that Phoebe could do for now was sling mud at Pyrrha's reputation, then she would do so and wait for the moment when she could ram a spear through Pyrrha's back.

But until then … she hoped, oh how she hoped.

In the meantime, while she hoped, she was on her way to call on Pyrrha herself.

One of the things that Phoebe found rather foolish about her own culture was the insistence on personalizing everything: take this single combat, for instance; you had to challenge your enemy directly. You couldn't hide your own presence in the shadows, you couldn't work through catspaws, everything was supposed to be out in the open for the world to see.

Phoebe did not work out in the open, and so, even if Pyrrha had suspicions about her involvement in these accusations against her, she couldn't prove it, and without proof, she could not act. And with Pyrrha unable to act, unable to prove anything, Phoebe was quite able to go to her and reconcile.

It was … the proper form, in occasions such as this. With Pyrrha about to risk her life in a sacred combat, it was the perfect time, the proper time, the expected time for Phoebe to go to her and clasp her hands and beg her to put aside their enmity.

It didn't matter one bit that Phoebe had no intention of putting aside her enmity for even one second; the point was that … well, there were two points, the first of which being that Pyrrha, bound by convention as she was, would be unable to refuse and, fool that she was, might even believe it; the other point being that it would make Phoebe look good.

This situation had taken on the attributes of a story; Pyrrha had turned it into one when she challenged Cinder Fall so publicly and in such a ringing tone. She had elevated this out of the world of trashy publications and into something … something closer to myth.

Well, Phoebe could treat this like a storybook as well if she wanted to, and this was the storybook response to a situation like this one: to put aside petty differences in the face of Pyrrha's hopefully impending death and win great plaudits for her magnanimity.

And so, trailed by her entourage — what was the point of doing something like this if you weren't going to have witnesses? — Phoebe swept through the corridors towards the Team SAPR dorm room.

"Is there really that much point to this?" asked Fleur. "What if Pyrrha doesn't accept?"

Phoebe laughed lightly. "Oh, really, Fleur, forgive me, but that's such an Atlesian thing to say. Of course Pyrrha will accept. She really has no choice at all. The customs will compel it, if nothing else. Besides, I'm sure that a sweet girl like Pyrrha could never hold a grudge."

They were approaching the SAPR dorm room now, with that ridiculous picture on the front from that terrible plebeian restaurant — Phoebe had been there once and never again; it was disgustingly common — on the door.

Phoebe did her best to ignore it, presenting a benign smile upon her fair face as, with perfect poise, she knocked briskly upon the dorm room door.

There was a moment's pause before the door was answered by that odious faunus, Sunset Shimmer; she might act a little less high and mighty once Pyrrha died and all the favour and the money that she presently enjoyed from Lady Nikos evaporated like so much snow under sunlight.

You think that you're so wonderful, don't you? You are nothing but a sponge that soaks up Lady Nikos' favours. One day, Lady Nikos will put you in her hands and squeeze you and squeeze you, and then, sponge, you will be dry again and just as small and light and utterly inconsequential as you were before.

But for now, Sunset stood in the doorway, physically barring it and looking at Phoebe with a scowl upon her face. "What do you want?"

Phoebe bit back a retort to the insolence that she was being offered. "I'm here to speak to Pyrrha."

"Go away," Sunset said, moving to shut the door.

Phoebe put one hand upon the door to prevent it from being slammed in her face. "I … understand that you may not have the best opinion of me," she said in her 'model student' voice that had fooled so many teachers at Atlas Academy. "I even understand why you might not like me very much; some of my words have been … rather cruel. But that's why it's so important that I speak to Pyrrha now, before it's too late!"

"Phoebe?" Pyrrha asked, appearing in view behind Sunset, visible over her shoulder. Her tone was guarded as she said, "Is there something I can do for you?"

Phoebe let out a sort of gasping sigh, putting one hand upon her heart. "Pyrrha!" she cried. She took a moment to appear to collect herself, her bosom heaving. "No, Pyrrha, there is nothing that you can do for me … except forgive me. I have been a fool, and worse than foolish, I have been very cruel to you and to your friends. I have taken our bouts in the arena far too seriously and allowed myself to become bitter over bouts that you won fair and square in the arena. I have wronged you with my words, wronged you terribly, but now … now, I see the light. What you have done … what are you prepared to risk … there can be no connection between you and that vile criminal Cinder Fall."

Sunset's face twitched. "Very prettily said," she growled. "But if you think that—"

"Sunset," Pyrrha murmured. "It's alright. Please, step aside."

"Pyrrha?"

"Please," Pyrrha repeated.

Sunset hesitated for a moment before the little beast obeyed Pyrrha's command and stepped back, clearing the way for Pyrrha to take her place, standing in the doorway facing Phoebe.

Phoebe smiled at her and reached out, taking Pyrrha's gloved hands in her own. "You are, as you have always been, the better warrior," she said, "but now, I see you are the better woman too. I am sorry, I am so very sorry that I ever doubted you. Now, before it may be too late, I would be reconciled with you. Forgive me, Pyrrha, I beg of you, and let me kiss you as a dear friend and comrade."

Pyrrha was silent for a moment, the expression on that milksop face harder to read than Phoebe would have liked. But at last, she said, "Of course. In truth, there is very little to forgive; rivalry is as much a part of the tournament circuit as combat itself, after all. But, in as much as you require forgiveness, I forgive you and welcome the opportunity to know you better as a friend."

She turned her cheek ever so slightly. Phoebe leaned forward and placed a kiss first upon her left cheek, and then — when Pyrrha turned her head the other way — upon her right.

Someone took a picture; Phoebe could see the flash illuminating Pyrrha's face. It was a pity they were only going to get a shot of her back, but it was unavoidable in the circumstances.

Phoebe released Pyrrha's hands and took a step backwards. "You carry the hopes of Mistral on your shoulders," she said. "And I am certain that you will bring honour to us all."

XxXxX​

Sunset's hand glowed with the emerald light of her magic as she telekinetically shut the door.

"Do you believe that?" she asked.

Pyrrha half turned towards her. "Do you ask if I believe that it just happened or that I believe Phoebe's sincerity?"

"Either," Sunset replied. "But I hope the answer to the second one is 'no.'"

"Indeed," Pyrrha murmured. "I might, possibly, have believed her, although even then, I would have found it hard to swallow, if it were not for … the things that you have told me you observed in Cinder's memories."

"Exactly," Sunset muttered. "You know, it occurs to me that that woman is the reason for all our problems."

"I think Salem might be a little surprised to hear that," Pyrrha said mildly.

Sunset rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. If she hadn't treated Cinder the way she did, then there would be no Cinder, not for you to fight, not to have caused the Breach … not for us to fear at all. All our troubles would be … if not over, then at least diminished."

She paused for a moment. "You know, considering that we only found out about Salem because Cinder had made it urgent that someone be recruited, if Phoebe could have only managed to be a decent loving stepsister, then we'd probably be enjoying a perfectly ordinary school year by now, preparing for the Vytal Festival in bliss."

"In bliss?" Pyrrha asked. "Or blissful ignorance?"

"How happy has knowledge made you?" Sunset asked.

"A fair point," Pyrrha acknowledged softly.

"If Phoebe didn't mean any of that — and I agree, she probably didn't — then why bother?" Jaune asked. "What was the point of it?"

"The appearance of the thing, I think," Pyrrha explained. "No doubt, she thinks it will enhance her reputation to be seen to be reconciling with me before I fight for my life. There is precedent for such things, old enemies putting aside their differences before one of them goes to battle. Palamon and Arcite were reconciled to one another before Arcite's fatal duel with Pyramus, and after Arcite's death, Palamon took Arcite's sister into his house and under his protection, providing for her until her marriage." She paused for a moment. "If I should—"

"Don't," Jaune said before she could finish. "Don't say that. You're going to win."

Pyrrha glanced at him and smiled. "Of course," she said.

"Is that really why she did it?" asked Ruby. "I mean … it still seems … is anyone really going to care?"

"Inasmuch as they already care — about me, about Phoebe, about any of us who fight or have fought in the arena — then yes, I think they probably will," Pyrrha replied. "The somewhat depressing thing is that this will probably work to enhance her reputation just as she hopes that it will."

"So she gets to slander you to the point you have to go and fight this duel, then she gets to cry crocodile tears about how sorry she is — not for the slandering you, but for everything else — and apologise for social clout?" Sunset said. "That seems—"

"Wrong?" Jaune suggested.

"At the very least," Sunset agreed.

"In the scheme of things, it hardly matters," Pyrrha said. "A little popularity might even sweeten Phoebe's nature."

"It wasn't sweetening that her nature needed," Sunset muttered. "But I accept that there are more important things." She frowned, a somewhat unpleasant thought striking. "Hang on, you said that this was a customary thing, right?"

Pyrrha nodded. "It has its roots in myth and tradition, yes."

"So does that mean that we can expect a host of people and all their flunkies beating a path to our door so that they can be seen to publicly reconcile with you for all the ill thoughts they had and apologise if they ever doubted you or so much as looked at you funny?"

Pyrrha blinked and seemed to pale a little. "I … cannot guarantee that we will not have more visitors, that is correct."

"Right," Sunset's voice was half a sigh and half a mutter. "Well, you will forgive me if I don't have the stomach to tolerate a parade of insincere sycophancy—"

"You're not the one who has to endure it all directed your way," Pyrrha pointed out mildly.

"Yes, yes, that is true," Sunset acknowledged. "And I feel sorry for you, believe me, but all the same … that doesn't mean that I want to stand here and watch while you endure it."

Pyrrha chuckled. "Understandable, in the circumstances."

"Where are you gonna go?" asked Ruby.

"I … I'm not sure yet," Sunset admitted. "Somewhere a little quieter than this might turn out to be."

"Sunset," Pyrrha said, "I don't know how Cinder will respond to my challenge, but she may either call you or, more likely, have someone else — Emerald or Lightning Dust — call you. In that case … I trust you to make the arrangements on my behalf. The place, the time, who will be present, all of that sort of thing. I leave the details in your hands."

"You … you don't want me to check with you first?"

Pyrrha shook her hand. "I trust you to act in my best interests."

If I was acting in your best interests, I would call this … no, no, I might not. After all, it isn't as though you were free from troubles before you decided to do this.

I have to admit, if you win this fight, it will be just the thing to give you your confidence back.

And you will win. You will win. You have to win; I won't accept anything else.

"I am … honoured," Sunset murmured. She bowed from the waist at a forty-five degree angle. "And in this office, I will serve you well, I swear it." She paused. "I suppose, given the circumstances, it might be best if I went somewhere quiet and out of the way where no one can overhear if Cinder decides to call."

"That would probably be for the best, yes," Pyrrha agreed.

Sunset nodded. "Right then, I shall take myself off to some secluded spot … and wait for the call which…" …the call which I hope and dread. "I'll wait for the call."

With one hand, she checked that her scroll was in her jacket pocket as she walked towards the door, Pyrrha making way for her as she did so.

Sunset opened the door and stepped out into the corridor, closing the door behind her.

As she heard the click as the dorm room door locked behind her, she could not restrain a sigh from passing her lips.

"You're worried about her, aren't you?"

It was only then that Sunset noticed Yang, standing just beyond her own dorm room door, her back to the wall facing SAPR's room, her arms folded.

"You waiting to speak to Ruby?" Sunset asked.

"Actually, I was kind of hoping you might come out here," Yang replied. "If only so I can ask what that herd was moving down the corridor just now."

Sunset cringed. "I'm afraid I wouldn't count on a peaceful day from now on. There might be more of that to follow."

"Why?"

Sunset let out another sigh — they would bloat her at this rate — and said, "Since Pyrrha is going to be risking her life soon, probably, everyone is coming to performatively apologise, kiss, and make up for any bad blood between them, so that … so that if she … so that if she…" So that if she dies, then they can say that they reconciled before she passed, and everyone will say how generous it was of them, and noble.

She couldn't say it. The words stuck in her mouth fit to make her choke upon them. It was as if … it was ridiculous, but she felt as though if she spoke the words too often, then she would conjure it into existence, that if she mentioned that Pyrrha might … she didn't even want to think about it.

Sunset's chest rose and fell, her breathing coming in gasping breaths. She hated them. At this moment, she hated them, not only Phoebe but all of these Mistralians and their culture that they would treat Pyrrha like this, that they would compel her with their mores to…

Sunset found that there were tears welling up in her eyes.

She felt, rather than saw, Yang's hand upon her shoulder, drawing her forward, pulling her into an embrace.

"Easy now," Yang murmured, stroking Sunset's fiery hair with her other hand. "Easy now. It's okay. Pyrrha's okay; she's on the other side of the door."

Sunset screwed her eyes tight shut. "I know that I should be supportive and believe in her—"

"You don't have explain to me," Yang said. "I get it. You can believe in someone, you can support them every step of the way, you can think — you can know — that they're totally awesome, but … but that doesn't make them invulnerable or immortal."

"Yeah," Sunset whispered. "Yeah, you're right; I am worried about her."

"I can get that too," Yang said softly, ever so softly. "I gotta say, it's a heck of a long way to go because someone wrote something mean about you."

"It isn't that," Sunset replied. "It … it's not just that, anyway."

"Then what?" Yang asked.

"I don't know if I ought to say," Sunset said. "I don't want to spread Pyrrha's secrets all over the school."

"I could get upset and point out that I'm not exactly 'all over the school,'" Yang remarked. "But … I get what you mean. You don't have to tell me. If you say that there's another reason, that there's a good reason for Pyrrha to do what she's doing, then I believe you." Yang stepped back, releasing Sunset from the embrace but keeping both hands upon Sunset's shoulders. "Just so long as Pyrrha knows that you believe in her too. It's okay to be worried, just so long as she knows that it isn't because you don't think she can win."

Sunset sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of one hand. "That … that's good advice," she said. "I will … definitely take that when I get back, although right now, I need to…"

"Need to what?"

"I … I need to get a call from Cinder to set up the duel," Sunset said.

Yang was silent for a moment. "I know that you're big on tradition and stuff, but at some point, even you have to admit that this is kind of absurd, don't you think?"

"It seems that way," Sunset admitted. "But … my objective assessment is so clouded by the circumstances as to make objectivity impossible, but … it's worked out for them for hundreds, thousands of years, even across battle lines. Honestly … if it wasn't Pyrrha … I'd maybe, probably, think it was kind of cool, you know? Two people meeting to settle a dispute themselves, instead of having a war over it, just two people fighting instead of armies, sparing cities and people the trouble and the worry. Taking on the burden of their causes wholly on themselves."

"Well, when you put it like that, it does sound heroic," Yang acknowledged. "Kind of … kind of what huntsmen are meant to do, come to think of it: taking on the burden, doing all the fighting so that there don't have to be armies. Only trouble is that this fight isn't going to solve anything, is it? Everything is going to be just the way it was, except…"

"Yeah," Sunset said. "Except … but like you said, I need to believe in Pyrrha. I do believe in Pyrrha." It's just unfortunate that I know Cinder too. "If anyone can do this, she can."

"Tell her, not me," Yang told her. "But still, the idea of you getting a call from Cinder is ridiculous."

Sunset let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah … ridiculous. Totally ridiculous." She took a deep breath. "Thank you."

"It's what I do," Yang told her, with a slight smile and an equally slight shrug of her shoulders. "I was going to make some coffee; do you want something?"

"No, thanks," Sunset said. "I have—"

"Places to be, right, got it," Yang said. "Good … well, you don't need luck, do you?"

"Not for this part, I hope," Sunset said as she left Yang behind and started down the corridor in the direction of the stairs.

Thankfully, she managed to make it to the stairs, down the stairs, and out of the dorm room without running into any more Mistralians coming to offer their insincere apologies coming the other way.

She didn't believe that any of them would be sincere. If they were sincere about wanting to make amends, then they would have done it before now, instead of waiting until…

She still didn't want to think it. The point was that she didn't believe in any of these apologies or desires for reconciliation. It was all just … it was all theatre.

Which Sunset might not have been opposed to, admittedly, except that in the circumstances…

Sunset put them from her mind. There were a lot of things that she liked about Mistral, not least the look of the place; it was just that this… the current situation had got her nerves jangled that was all.

Nevertheless, when she got back, she would have to take Yang's advice and let Pyrrha know that she did believe in her.

Which she did. Pyrrha was the real deal, after all, and if she'd been going up against anyone but Cinder Fall, then Sunset wouldn't have worried; she might not have liked the fact that it was single combat in any event, but she wouldn't have been actively worried the way she was now.

That was Cinder's doing.

It didn't help that her feelings about Cinder dying were…

I should hate her. I told her that I hated her, and I…

She is responsible for all of this. She is the reason why … except she isn't, is she?

She gave me a choice, but I was the one who took it. I hate her because I hate myself.

Except I don't actually hate her.

I feel…

I admire her, a little, fighting against four kingdoms and all the power of Atlas, making a challenge to the entire system of the world, defying … everything. I wouldn't have that kind of courage, or that kind of resolve. I wouldn't be able to fight such a fight; I would quail before the strength of opposition.

I ran away in the face of far less trouble.

So yes, though I might not be able to say it openly, I admire her courage, whatever the ends to which she puts her courage.

But most of all … most of all, I feel sorry for her. Not just because she was so cruelly mistreated, although there is that — although there is also the fact that she would not wish to be pitied for it — but more than that. I feel sorry for her because she has nothing in her life but wrath and revenge, and they will burn her to ashes ere they consume the world.

Sunset walked across the courtyard, heading out across the open grounds of Beacon in the direction of the farm; not a place where she often spent time, but at the same time … it was not a place where a great many students spent a lot of time, and so she had reasonable hopes of privacy there, with only the chickens to overhear.

The chickens appeared to be in fine fettle when Sunset arrived; someone had spread a load of feed upon the ground in their enclosure, and they were clucking as they gobbled it down eagerly.

Sunset remembered Pyrrha's story from before, about the sacred chickens and how there was not allowed to be a fight unless they ate, conveying the favour of the gods upon the battle. She wondered if the Beacon chickens were sacred enough that it might be considered a good omen that they were eating, and though she couldn't be sure, she found herself rather hoping that it was true.

It occurred to Sunset that the reason not a lot of students came down here was that if you weren't a big fan of farm animals, then there wasn't much to do out here, and there wasn't much for her to do out here while she waited for a call.

I should have taken my journal out here and written to Princess Celestia or Twilight.

Sunset heard and felt her scroll buzz in her pocket, the suddenness of it making her jump. She fumbled a little, taking longer in her haste to get her scroll than she would have done if she hadn't been in such a rush. Nevertheless, she managed to get her scroll out of her pocket and open it up.

Someone was calling her voice only.

Sunset answered it. "Cinder?"

"No, it's Emerald," came the reply out of the scroll. "We do this through intermediaries, apparently."

"Right, of course we do," Sunset replied. "Hello, Emerald."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Really?"

"Well, we are talking to arrange a matter of honour," Sunset pointed out. "It feels like we're not really being true to the spirit of the thing if we don't at least try and be civil to one another in the process."

"Right," Emerald muttered, sounding very unconvinced. "Well, yeah, so…" There was the sound of a page turning.

"Are you reading?" Sunset asked.

"I'm not reading; I've just got a book open on my lap," Emerald said. "I don't know all of this stuff off the top of my head; I'm having to check the rules."

"I'm a little surprised that you care."

"Cinder will care," Emerald said. "She'll want this done properly."

"Of course," Sunset said. "We wouldn't want this done improperly, would we?"

"Was that sarcasm?"

"A little," Sunset admitted. "But I'm taking this very seriously, I assure you."

"But do you…?" Emerald hesitated. "Do you think that…? Can I trust you?"

"You probably shouldn't be able to, considering that we're enemies," Sunset pointed out.

"If we're enemies, then why am I calling you, and why did you say that we should try and be civil to one another?" Emerald asked.

"That … is a good point," Sunset admitted. "We were enemies, we will be enemies when you end this call, but right now, we are—"

"In the same boat?" Emerald suggested. "Do you think this is a good idea?"

"Of course I do," Sunset said; she couldn't say anything else to Emerald Sustrai.

"Liar," Emerald said.

"You can't possibly know that—"

"I know that I don't think this is a good idea," Emerald said, "and I know that … I don't like you, but I think that we're alike in that … we care. You care about Pyrrha, don't you? You don't want her to die?"

"Of course I don't, and of course I care," Sunset said sharply. "But Pyrrha's going to win, obviously."

"Bollocks," Emerald replied. "Pyrrha has nothing on Cinder, nothing at all."

Sunset gasped. "First of all: you're delusional. Secondly, if you think that, why are you so worried?"

There was silence from Emerald on the other end of the line. "I … nothing is certain, is it?"

Sunset was silent for a moment. "No," she said. "No, it is not."

"Is Pyrrha really doing this because of what some stupid magazine said about her?"

"Yes," Sunset replied, because, again, she wasn't going to admit anything more than that to Emerald. "Why is Cinder accepting?"

"Because she wants to kill Pyrrha," Emerald replied.

Sunset closed her eyes for a moment. Yeah. Yeah, that's about what I thought.

"I've tried to talk her out of it," Emerald went on, "but she didn't listen. Have you tried to talk Pyrrha out of it?"

"No."

"Why not?" Emerald demanded. "Are you so confident?"

"I don't need to explain myself to you," Sunset said. But she went on to explain herself anyway, saying, "Pyrrha has the right to make her own choices; I can't tell her what to do."

"That doesn't mean you can't tell her you think she's making a bad choice."

"I've been told that my way of telling people that I think they're making a bad choice can be … overly strident," Sunset admitted. "As a result … I'm experimenting with letting people do as they wish."

"How's that working out?"

"It's not doing my nerves much good so far," Sunset admitted.

Emerald snorted. "You know, it's kind of funny, I guess," she said, "but we … Cinder and Pyrrha, they're both warriors. They both risk their lives … all the time, but it's only now that I'm actually worried about her. Is that stupid, or is there something special about single combat?"

"Ten thousand fates of death surround them," Sunset murmured.

"That's from The Mistraliad, isn't it?" Emerald asked.

"It's a paraphrase," Sunset said.

"Right," Emerald said, in a tone that concealed whether or not she knew what that meant. "I've started reading it, but I'm not that far in."

"I won't spoil anything for you."

Emerald chuckled. "Cinder tells me that it's really good, and that I ought to read it for my … anyway; I also hoped that it would help me understand Cinder a little better."

"How are you finding it?"

"Hard to understand at times," Emerald admitted. "And also … I could never tell Cinder this, but they're all… kind of awful."

"That's harsh," Sunset replied. "Many of the heroes possess at least some admirable qualities. They're rounded characters, with flaws and virtues in equal measure."

"The Pyrrha in the story decides to throw a massive sulk and sit out the fighting because somebody took her slave away," Emerald pointed out.

"Her pride was … in fairness, the poem has an ambivalent attitude towards Pyrrha and her actions; it doesn't exactly praise every little thing she does," Sunset said. "I think … the answer to your questions is that yes, there is something … if not special about single combat, then at the very least different about it, because single combat … the difference is they're all alone, and we can't help them."

"Yeah," Emerald agreed. "Yeah, it sounds obvious, now that you put it like that."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Depends," Emerald said. "Ask, and I might answer."

"Why are you doing this?" asked Sunset. "Do you know who you're working for?"

"I work for Cinder."

"No, I mean—"

"Yes, I know who Cinder works for," Emerald said. "Yes, I know about the grimm — how could I not? — so if you're going to try and play some stupid headgames where you convince me to change sides or betray Cinder, then cut it out; it's not going to work."

"I would never encourage you to betray Cinder," Sunset assured her. "That would be … it would be like stabbing her in the back. I just want to know why. I can understand why Cinder is doing this; I wish that it weren't so, but I understand. But you … you don't seem the type to want to take your anger out on the world. Apart from anything else, you don't seem very angry about anything."

Emerald was silent for a moment. And then a moment more. "I … I'm a thief. I was a thief. I didn't have anything but what I could steal, which wasn't always much. I was … nothing, until Cinder found me. She promised me that I'd … lately, she's been teaching me how to act like a lady."

Sunset's eyebrows rose, for all that Emerald couldn't see it, the call being voice only. "Really?"

"Uh huh," Emerald said. "Can't you tell by my elocution?"

"You still need to work on your vocabulary choices."

"Everyone's a critic," Emerald huffed. "The point is … I'm loyal to Cinder. Whatever road she's on, though it's bad for her, though it's bad for the people around her, I'm loyal to Cinder. I'm not going to turn on her, I'm not going to walk away from her, I'm not going to betray her to help you or even to save my own skin. Yes, it could have been rough on Vale if the Breach had actually broken through, but you know what, so what? Vale never gave a damn about me, Vale never treated me like I was anything more than gutter trash, Vale … Cinder is the first person to treat me like I might actually be worth something; lately, she's even been treating me like an equal. I'm not going to betray that, I'm going to be loyal to that, and even if it costs me my life, at least I'll die alongside someone who cares. Here I stand, even if it's where I fall."

"And now you sound like a lady," Sunset said. "Congratulations." She paused for a moment. "You are a better person than those who scorned you in the street."

"I don't need you to tell me that," Emerald replied. "But … thanks anyway."

"You know," Sunset said. "We should probably actually get to work and sort out this duel, shouldn't we? It almost feels as though we've been putting it off."

"'It almost feels'?"

Now it was Sunset's turn to snort. "Since Pyrrha challenged, your side gets to choose time and place. Within reason."

"Yeah," Emerald said. "I mean," Sunset could hear the effort speak in a more refined manner in her voice, "Yes, indeed. I see that it is so. Our two … combatants shall meet in the Emerald Forest."

"'The Emerald Forest'?" Sunset repeated.

"Somewhere Cinder can't be easily seen or found," Emerald said. "I don't want General Ironwood's troops swooping down on her."

"You don't trust Pyrrha's honour?" Sunset asked.

"Even if I did, I still wouldn't trust General Ironwood," Emerald replied. "What reason does he have not to take out Cinder if he gets the chance? Why should he feel bound by Pyrrha's honour?"

"That is … a fair point," Sunset conceded. There was no reason for General Ironwood to respect the sanctity of the duel; he wasn't a Mistralian, and they were at war, to all intents and purposes. It was not impossible that he might seek to turn this situation to his advantage. Just as Emerald might be trying to turn this situation to her advantage, or Cinder's. "But the Emerald Forest? It's full of grimm."

"That's not something you'll have to worry about with Cinder around," Emerald replied. "You don't trust us?"

"You did lead us into a trap at Mountain Glenn the last time we talked like this."

"That was Cinder, not me, and if you couldn't work out ahead of time that it was some kind of trap, then that's on you, not us," Emerald said. She hesitated. "Listen, for what it's worth, Cinder really is taking this seriously. Nobody thinks that she should be doing this, but she is. She wants this. And she wants to do it … right. An ambush … that wouldn't satisfy her."

Sunset did not reply immediately. What Emerald said … it made sense. It tracked with what Sunset knew of Cinder. She hated Pyrrha, yes, but she wanted to triumph over her personally, not bury her beneath the grimm.

And the challenged party did have the right to choose the place; Sunset could object if she thought that Emerald was abusing that right, but she did not have a power of veto over the location.

"Where in the forest? It's a big place," Sunset pointed out.

There was a pause. "I'm sending you some coordinates; it's a clearing. Pyrrha will be able to reach it from the cliffs."

There was a ping on Sunset's scroll notifying her that she'd got a text.

"For the same reason it's happening in the forest," Emerald went on, "the duel will take place at midnight."

"Tonight?"

"There's not much point waiting around, is there?" Emerald asked.

"No," Sunset murmured. "No, I suppose there isn't."

"Each combatant will have two marshals to observe the duel and ensure that the rules are followed," Emerald said.

"Three marshals," Sunset responded.

"Two," Emerald insisted. "We don't have three marshals."

That was a point that was impossible to argue, and so Sunset said, "Very well, two marshals."

"And you won't be either of them," Emerald added.

"What?" Sunset replied. "You can't specify that."

"I just did."

"Why?"

"Because you've already broken a truce once when you tried to kill Adam," Emerald pointed out. "I don't trust you."

"And I thought we were becoming friends," Sunset said, and she wasn't even being entirely sarcastic about it.

"Maybe in another life," Emerald said. "But in this life? I don't trust you to be there and not intervene to save Pyrrha when the fighting turns against her. Like Maenad, you wouldn't be able to help yourself."

"You've gotten that far in The Mistraliad then," Sunset observed; the goddess Maenad rescued Pandarus from his death at the hands of Melanippe, whisking him away from the battlefield to his palace in Mistral.

"Do you deny it?"

"No," Sunset muttered. "No, I cannot say for certain that I would be able to help myself. Very well, two marshals, and I will not be there." I will fret and wait and look for her coming from the cliffs and envy Jaune and Ruby.

"In the Emerald Forest," Emerald said, "at midnight."

"In the Emerald Forest," Sunset agreed, "at midnight."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Waiting is the Hardest Part

​

Pyrrha looked up as the dorm room door opened and Sunset walked in.

"Emerald called," Sunset said.

"I see," Pyrrha murmured. "And?"

"Midnight, in the Emerald Forest," Sunset said. "I've got the coordinates for the exact location here; apparently, you can reach it from the cliffs, and I can believe that."

Pyrrha was silent for a moment.

So, it will be so soon.

Better sooner than later, I suppose.

But still … quite soon, all things considered.

"I see," Pyrrha said, her voice very quiet, barely more than a whisper. "Thank you, Sunset."

"The Emerald Forest?" Jaune said. "Are you sure about this? What if it turns out to be an ambush?"

"As I said to Professor Ozpin," Pyrrha murmured, "I … trust Cinder in this, if in nothing else."

"Because she is a Mistralian," Jaune said sceptically.

"Because she wants to beat Pyrrha in a way that … counts, for want of a better word," Sunset said. "Believe me, the thought did occur to me, but … in the circumstances, I don't see that there's much choice but to trust Cinder's … honour."

"There's always the choice to not go through with it," Ruby pointed out.

"No," Pyrrha said. "No, that is no longer a choice for me. Having challenged Cinder, having threatened her with the shame of cowardice if she did not answer my challenge, if I were to shrink from her now, then I would look like the coward. And I would not be thought of so." She smiled thinly. "After all, that's part of what this whole exercise has been about, hasn't it? My reputation."

My reputation and my confidence. I would lose both if I were to cower before Cinder now.

"You'll have two marshals to observe the integrity of the duel, and so will Cinder," Sunset went on. "Unfortunately, I can't be one of them. Emerald was very specific."

Pyrrha frowned slightly. "Why?"

"Apparently, after what happened in Mountain Glenn with Adam, she doesn't trust me," Sunset said. "I can't say that I really blame her, in the circumstances, although … I do wish that I could come with you."

I… Pyrrha was somewhat surprised to find that she was at least partly glad that Sunset would not be present in the forest. She liked Sunset a great deal, Sunset was her best friend, but at the same time, Pyrrha found that she shared Emerald's scepticism that Sunset would be able to prevent herself from interfering in the duel if the outcome was not going the way she wanted it.

That was not a slight against Sunset, whose concern for her friends' wellbeing was greatly to be valued in almost all circumstances, but in this particular circumstances, it would not be welcome.

This was something that Pyrrha had to do, herself.

Always be the best and hold your head up high above all others.

If she did not do this, then Pyrrha would not be able to hold her head up at all, never mind above all others.

She had to do this, and if that meant that Sunset had to be kept far away, unable to interfere, well, then perhaps in this one instance, that was a good thing.

She rose to her feet, standing up off the bed, and looked to Jaune. "Jaune, will you be one of my two marshals?"

Jaune nodded. "Of course."

"Thank you," Pyrrha said. She paused for a moment. "I will ask Arslan to be the other."

"You will?" Sunset said. "I thought that…" She trailed off, seeming unable to say what she wanted to say.

Pyrrha breathed in, and then out. She looked at Ruby. "I don't know whether you'll take this as a slight or a compliment," she said, "but I find that I feel the same way about you that Emerald seems to about Sunset: that I can't trust you not to interfere in the duel."

"You mean you think I'd try and save you if I thought you were going to die?" Ruby asked.

"That, or attack before the duel had even begun because our enemies were before us," Pyrrha replied.

Ruby tilted her head a little, first one way, and then the other. "That … I think that's actually a compliment," she said. "Though I think it might be kind of an insult to Jaune and Arslan."

"This is what Pyrrha wants," Jaune said, although his voice sounded a little strained as he said it. "And I trust her to get it done, if anyone can."

"And Arslan is a Mistralian," Pyrrha added, "one who has imbibed our peculiar traditions and attitudes. If she is willing to do me this service I have no doubt that she will be able to hold herself back, no matter the outcome." She paused for a moment. "Speaking of which, I think that I should probably go and speak to her and make sure that she is willing to do me this service, shouldn't I?"

"Do you want me to come with?" Jaune offered.

"No, thank you," Pyrrha said. "I'll be fine on my own. I … I may not come straight back here afterwards; I … you can reach me on my scroll, if you need me."

Sunset's eyes narrowed, but she said nothing.

Jaune said, "Okay. We … I'll be right here."

"I know," she said, smiling. She considered kissing him before she left, but decided against it; it might have seemed … forced. It didn't seem like the right time, at any rate. But she smiled at him as she walked towards the door and stepped out into the corridor.

Her long ponytail swayed a little behind her as she turned down the corridor, her footsteps almost inaudible upon the carpet, her red sash trailing after her as she walked towards the stairs.

As she passed the kitchenette, she heard Nora's voice cry out, "Hey! Pyrrha!"

Pyrrha turned her head to see Nora emerging out of the kitchenette, holding a sandwich — salami, or possibly chorizo — in one hand.

"Good afternoon, Nora," she said politely. "Late lunch?"

"Nah, just fixing myself a snack," Nora explained. "Where are you off to?"

"I'm on my way to see Arslan Altan," Pyrrha explained. "I … I want to ask her to be one of the two marshals at my duel with Cinder."

Nora put one hand on her hip. "So, you're really going to go through with it then, huh?"

"Having issued a declaration on television in two kingdoms, I can hardly not, can I?" Pyrrha responded. "Not while saving any degree of face."

Nora looked up at her. Before she said anything, she took a bite out of her sandwich. She began to talk with her mouth full, rendering any words an indistinguishable and indecipherable mass of mumbling.

"I beg your pardon?"

Nora swallowed. "Sorry. I said you're gonna kick ass, right? Gonna show that nobody better mess with you."

Pyrrha's lips curled upwards. "That's certainly the plan."

"Oh, you have a plan!" Nora cried. "Well, you're going to win for sure, then. People with plans almost always come out on top; that's why I don't do so well in combat class."

Pyrrha chuckled. "Aren't you one of the best students in combat class?"

"And if I had a plan before every fight, then I'd be showing you who the real invincible girl was around here!" Nora said enthusiastically.

Pyrrha's eyebrows rose. "Oh, really?"

"You know it," Nora said. "One hit from Magnhild, and you'd be done!"

"Then it's a good job for me that you've never managed to hit me with Magnhild, isn't it?" Pyrrha replied.

"It is for you, yeah," Nora declared. "Hey, Pyrrha, is this what it means to be Mistralian?"

Pyrrha blinked. "I'm not sure that I understand the question."

"Ren and I … we're not really proper Mistralians in a lot of ways," Nora explained. "Sure, we grew up in Anima, but … well, we didn't exactly have a normal childhood, either of us, and … well, we moved around a lot, from village to village, we never spent a lot of time in one place, we didn't … we don't really belong to anywhere. And sometimes … sometimes, I've wondered what it would be like if we'd grown up normally, in Mistral, or just anywhere. Would we have been like you?"

"Only if you'd grown up in a very specific stratum of society, or had a need to ape the trappings of that stratum's values, as Arslan does," Pyrrha said. "The assumptions of how to behave, who the proper role models are, what I should be aiming for, they're very specific, not just to my city, but also to my class."

"Then how do you know that Cinder is going to accept your challenge?"

"She already has," Pyrrha told her. "We meet at midnight."

"'Midnight'?" Nora repeated. "I don't know whether that's spooky or someone trying to be spooky."

Pyrrha laughed lightly. "I think it might be a little of both."

Nora chuckled at her own little joke. "So … if all of this is not just about being Mistralian but about being part of the upper crust, does that mean Cinder comes from some rich old family?"

"I…" Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. "I don't really know for sure, but I do know that she feels some … kinship to the old ways, an attachment to them. As I said, there are some who are forced to take on the trappings of noble customs — almost anyone who aspires to a successful career in the arena, for example — and there are some who are genuinely drawn to them. Cinder … may be one of those. There is no Fall family that I know of, but her name is almost certainly an assumed one."

"Hmm," Nora murmured. "I guess it's no stranger than someone wanting to … what does she want? Working with the White Fang, trying to loose a whole bunch of grimm into the city, trying to … to do what? Was she trying to wipe out Vale?"

"I couldn't speak to her intent," Pyrrha said. "Or her ambitions."

"But you know she's bad news, and she's gotta be stopped," Nora said.

"Indeed," Pyrrha agreed. "And I will stop her, if fortune is kind."

"'Fortune'? Pfft," Nora declared scornfully. "You got this, girl."

Pyrrha smiled. "Thank you, Nora."

"But," Nora added, "if none of your teammates can say it so straight up to you … definitely don't let it get to you, but also … don't let it make you think they don't back you up to the hilt. I mean, I'm just some loud girl who sits opposite you at lunch most days; those three … they're the ones who love you."

"I know," Pyrrha said softly. "But—"

"But the thing is," Nora went on. "The thing is that when we love someone, it can be … well, it can be hard to say how we really feel, for one thing, but at the same time … when we love someone, it … it makes us afraid for them. And that maybe kind of sounds like I don't actually care about you one way or the other, which isn't true; it's just that what I'm trying to say is … when you love someone, when you know that if you lost them, if they weren't around anymore, it would leave a hole in your life and in your heart, then … then it's easy to get into a place where the hole that they'd leave behind is all that you're thinking about, and not how awesome you know they are. So … just, maybe keep it in my mind before you get upset." She shrugged. "Or don't. I mean, I'm just a loud girl with a lot of funny stories, after all."

Pyrrha shook her head. "You are much wiser than that, and I will keep your words in mind."

Nora smiled. "If it helps. Now go get 'er. Or go get Arslan, I guess. But in case I don't see you again before you go: go get 'er!"

Pyrrha bowed her head. "I intend to."

She left Nora there, eating her sandwich with whatever kind of cold sausage made up the filling, as she herself descended the stairs and stepped out of the Beacon dorm room. The air had cooled a little; it was quite crisp as she walked across the courtyard, pausing in front of the fountain and the statue of the huntsman and huntress standing on the rock, with the snarling beowolf down below.

Pyrrha paid no attention to the grimm, all of her attention focussed instead upon the huntsman, his sword raised aloft.

She did not know his name, she did not even know if he was a real person — in Mistral, he certainly would have been, but in Vale, it was possible that he was nothing more than an allegorical representation of a huntsman, an ideal rather than an individual — but as she looked up at him, his sword raised towards heaven, she felt a kinship with him.

Like her, he had stepped forward to vanquish evil.

She was reminded of the end of the Great War, of the Battle of the Four Sovereigns. There, and in the battles that had gone before, many heroes had performed prodigious feats of valour, but on that last battlefield, none had surpassed the Last King of Vale himself. He had been a very god of war; great heroes like Achates Kommenos had fallen before his blade, and more than that … it was hard to credit, but reports of those who had survived the battle swore that they had seen him cleave whole companies with his sword, shatter units, shatter the ground itself. Whatever the truth of that — and with magic in the world, who was she to deny that it could possibly be true? — it was beyond doubt that he, personally, had ended the Great War with his valour and the deeds that he had done.

Fate grant that I may win a similar victory.

Obviously, she would not end a war single-handedly, at least on this battlefield, nor could she put an end to the greater threat of Salem, but if she could win this battle, if she could lay Cinder low before her arms, then how much would be ended? How much safer would Vale be, would they be?

Cinder had been beaten, it was true, she had been scotched, her plans had been thwarted, but so long as she lived, then she would plot again and scheme again and attack again and put everything at risk again.

But Pyrrha could stop her. She had the opportunity to stop her.

She would stop her. She would smite Cinder's breast with Miló and send her crashing down to the ground, her soul fleeing in anger down to the shades.

And she would deliver the world from Cinder's menace.

She would protect it, as she had always wished to do. As she had chosen to do long ago.

Pyrrha turned away from the fountain, walking across the courtyard to the dormitory where the Haven students were staying until the end of the Vytal Festival. Two huntresses lingered outside the door as though they stood on guard. One of them was Medea, who had offered to poison people on her behalf not too long ago.

The other was a girl whom Pyrrha did not recognise, a bear faunus with ursine claws in place of her fingernails, with freckles on her face and chestnut hair cut short above her shoulders. She wore a long white tunic that extended down past her thighs, but no visible skirt, shorts, or trousers of any kind; a pair of rough brown sandals enclosed her feet, while brown fingerless gloves covered most of her hands. She sat upon a low stone wall, one foot resting upon her other knee, a bow sat upon her leg.

"Pyrrha Nikos," Medea hailed her as she approached. "I see that you've chosen to take a more … public approach to your problems than my poison."

"Um," Pyrrha murmured, with a glance towards Medea's bow-armed companion.

The bear faunus grunted. "I know all about what she is, don't worry: a tricksy little spider … but a very useful person to have around in a pinch."

Medea chuckled. "I don't have your boyfriend's wonderful semblance which I hear can heal any injury, but my skill with herbs and potions has not gone unappreciated by my gallant teammates. So much so that they tolerate my perspective on the world, don't you, Atalanta?"

"Atalanta Calydon," Atalanta said, holding out one hand to Pyrrha. "It is an honour to meet you."

"Likewise," Pyrrha said, taking her hand.

Atalanta snorted. "No, it isn't; I've done nothing yet worthy of honour, and you did not even know my name."

"No," Pyrrha admitted. "But now I do, and I will look for your deeds, and one day, I will be honoured to meet you again."

Atalanta nodded her head. "You are as courteous as you are brave; do you truly mean to face your enemy in single combat?"

"I do," Pyrrha said. "I have issued my challenge; I have no intention of backing down from it."

"Personally, I would rather shoot someone from behind a tree than face them in a duel," Atalanta said.

"But how to get your foe to a place where you can shoot them?" Pyrrha asked.

Atalanta was silent for a moment. "You make an excellent point," she conceded. "Your way is more perilous, but it does at least draw out the enemy to where they can be fought." She paused for a moment. "Are you a praying girl, Pyrrha Nikos?"

"Um, no," Pyrrha replied softly. "No, I'm not. I have made offerings in the Temple of Victory, but … no, I am not a praying person."

"Few enough are," Atalanta acknowledged. "So I shall pray on your behalf to Sirius, the Hound of the Hunt, that you shall catch your quarry and return with the spoils."

"And I to Thessaly," Medea added.

"I thank you both," Pyrrha said, "but now, if you'll excuse me, I need to speak to Arslan."

"Tyche Agathe, as they say," Medea said as she gestured towards the door.

Pyrrha glanced at her and nodded. "Indeed."

She used her scroll to gain entry into the building, but as the door swung open, she paused in the doorway. "I … don't suppose that either of you know where Team Auburn's dorm room is?"

Medea chuckled. "Come with me," she said. "I'll show you."

"I'm much obliged to you," Pyrrha said, stepping inside the dormitory so that Medea could come in.

Medea took the lead from that point, and Pyrrha followed her up two flights of stairs.

"I have to say," Medea said, as they walked, "I'm a little disappointed in how changeable some of our young gallants have proven themselves to be over this. Of course, I should have known, the hearts of men are such changeable things after all, as the goddess teaches, but … those who called you traitor and foe to Mistral in the morning now sing your praises as a hero and upholder of the old ways."

"I cannot say that I am sorry that their minds have changed," Pyrrha replied.

"Oh, no, you must not mistake me; I'm not sorry for that either," Medea said. "It's just that, well, if you're going to have bad opinions, at least have the courage to hold to them for a little while. Changeable, as I said. Was it very tiresome for you receiving all those well wishers?" She didn't give Pyrrha a chance to answer before she added, "You'll notice that Jason and Meleager weren't among them."

"Yes," Pyrrha said. "Yes, I did notice that."

"I told them that an apology now would seem insincere," Medea explained. "Although you may get one later … and it will be meant," she added.

"If it is meant," Pyrrha said, "then I will look forward to it."

Medea led her down a corridor, looking very similar to the corridors in the dormitory where Pyrrha and her team lived, coming to a stop behind a certain door, functionally indistinguishable from all the rest.

"Here we are," Medea said. "I'll leave you to what business you have with our Golden Lion. The moon watch over you, Pyrrha Nikos."

"I will endeavour to give her something worth watching," Pyrrha replied.

Medea smiled. "I'm sure you will."

She walked back the way that she had come, gathering the folds of her robe around her, humming softly as she went.

Pyrrha looked at the door and knocked gently upon it.

There was a moment of silence when nothing happened, before one of Arslan's teammates, the one with fluorescent green hair, opened the door.

"Oh, hey," she said. "You want to speak to Arslan?"

"If that's possible," Pyrrha said. "Is she here?"

The other girl nodded. "Hey, Arslan! Pyrrha Nikos out here."

"Coming," came Arslan's reply. The other girl stepped back to allow Arslan to come to the doorway. "Hey, Pyrrha. What's up?"

"Cinder has accepted my challenge," Pyrrha said. "We will meet in the Emerald Forest at midnight."

Arslan's eyebrows rose. "Someone's trying a little too hard. Do you want me to put the word out so that everyone knows that the duel is going ahead?"

"Actually, I was hoping that you'd agree to be one of my two marshals tonight," Pyrrha informed her.

Arslan's eyebrows climbed yet higher into the recesses of her wild and unkept mane of hair. "Me?" she said. "You want me to go down there with you?"

"If it's not too much trouble," Pyrrha said. "Although, as I say that, I realise that I am asking a great deal."

"It's not that so much," Arslan said. "I just thought you'd want your own teammates to be there."

"Jaune will be there," Pyrrha informed her. "But Sunset is not acceptable to the other side; they don't trust her not to intervene in the duel."

"And Ruby?"

"I'm not sure I trust Ruby not to intervene in the duel either," Pyrrha admitted.

"I see," Arslan murmured. "Sure, I'll go with you. I can even film the fight."

"Is that allowed?" Pyrrha asked.

"I'm sure there's no rule against it," Arslan said. "And besides, you want to be able to prove that you actually fought the fight, don't you?"

"I'm not sure that I want to release a video of myself killing someone," Pyrrha murmured.

"You challenged someone to a duel to the death," Arslan pointed out. "The death is … kind of important."

"Perhaps, but … it sounds rather ghoulish to put it out there for people to see," Pyrrha replied. "Some of my fans are children."

"Also a very good point," Arslan acknowledged. "You don't have to decide right now, but I'm okay to film it, and then you can decide what or if you want to upload later, yeah?"

"Very well," Pyrrha said. "You can film. I doubt that Cinder will object."

Arslan put one hand upon the doorframe and leaned against it. "So, how are you feeling?"

Pyrrha hesitated. "The anticipation before a big fight is … I'd rather get it over with. The hours will pass so slowly. I want it done. I want her done. I want … I want this shadow that hovers about my shoulders gone."

"How does she fight?" Arslan asked. "What does she fight with?"

"Glass," Pyrrha said. "Glass which she moulds; it must be her semblance. I have seen her use a bow and a pair of scimitars, both forged from the same glass; it changes to her will. Of the two, I fear the bow more; she can manipulate the direction of her arrows, control their flight, even make them explode."

Arslan winced. "What are you going to do about that?"

"Close the distance as soon as possible," Pyrrha said. "And keep it closed, never giving her an opportunity to open it up again. She cannot hurt me with arrows she cannot shoot."

Arslan nodded. "Sounds like you have it all straight in your head," she said. "You've got nothing to worry about; you'll be fine."

XxXxX​

Cinder had her back to the door, standing facing the windows, looking out across the decaying grounds of Portchester Manor. Once, she supposed, it had been a beautiful, a grand sight, a sight to impress upon visitors the wealth of the family, that they could afford a splendid garden and the gardeners to maintain it.

Now, it was nothing but weeds and overgrown grass; everything else had died or succumbed to decay.

Death would claim all things in the end, save only Salem herself. For the rest of them, those who were blessed and cursed with a mortal life, death would come for them now or later, so why fear it? Why fly before it? Why not, as the ancient Pyrrha had, choose to burn brightly, for however brief a moment?

Because, perhaps, there are those that we would leave behind who would grieve at our passing.

Perhaps you should have remembered that, Mother.

Fortunately, that is not true of me. I have nothing and no one to hold me back. There is nothing to impede my choice.

I am the true heir to the old ways; I am the true evenstar of a kingdom which, like this decaying garden, is crumbling before the advance of time.

I am full of wrath, I am bent upon revenge, I am the enemy of a great kingdom who will bring down its walls. In what way is Pyrrha Nikos a better Pyrrha than I am, save her name? I am the inheritor of that old heroic spirit, and I will make my claim undeniable.

"Look at me," Cinder murmured. "I am the daughter of a pilot, a gentleman was my father, yet death and inexorable destiny are waiting for me."

Let me only conquer Pyrrha before I die.

Cinder wished … Cinder wished that the gods were real; then she could have prayed to them, as the heroes of old had done, prayed to win undying glory in the field, prayed to make her name infamous before she died.

But the gods were not real. They had never been real. The only real gods had forsaken the world of men long ere the men of Mistral had constructed gods to pray to. Cinder could not help but find that fact a little … disappointing. The gods played such a great part in the story of The Mistraliad and in the other myths that to find out that they did not exist, that that part of the story was … well, you had to wonder what that part of the story was, didn't you? Exaggeration? Magic? Fiction?

Of course, the rest of the stories were true. Cinder believed that with all her heart. Certain Atlesian scholars, uncultured philistines that they were, had begun to suggest all sorts of wild and contemptible theories about the composition of The Mistraliad, from dates to authorship. All of these, Cinder dismissed with magisterial disdain; The Mistraliad had been composed by the blind bard Demodocus, and he had recorded events that had actually happened no more than two generations removed from his own time and which had come down to him from the lips of those that were there. It recorded things that had really happened — apart from the gods obviously — just as all the great legends did.

Demodocus had recorded the truth about real people, and their real deeds had echoed down the centuries to inspire Cinder when she had been at her lowest ebb.

Those Atlesian scholars, puffed up with their own cleverness, would never understand what it was about these Mistralian tales that resonated in the hearts of men, because they were too busy trying to rip them to shreds. They could not see the forest for the … no, it was worse than that; they could not see the great house for all the bricks they were so cheerfully ripping out of the walls to study them more closely.

And yet, the great house would remain standing long after they and their theories had been forgotten.

If Cinder lived long enough to carry Salem's war to Atlas, she might pay those scholars a visit and remind them of that fact.

And then kill them, for trying to spoil everyone's fun.

If she lived.

"Cinder?"

Cinder looked over her shoulder. Emerald stood in the doorway; she no longer cowered as she would have done; her back was straight and her chin was up. Cinder was proud of her for that; she was not doing so well with her elocution, which had a regrettable tendency to slide back towards the plebeian in sound and language, but she had mastered posture admirably well, and the rest would come, with time and practice.

She would make a rare lady, Cinder was sure. One like Cinder's own mother even, able to hold her own in at least the society of officers and gentlemen, even if she could not quite pass muster amongst the grand old families of Mistral. The likes of Nikos and Rutulus and Ming would probably smell her out as not belonging, but if Emerald set her sights a little lower, then Cinder had no doubt that she would fool them all.

And if she kept on practicing, then there was no reason she should need to lower her sights.

She really was doing very well.

"Emerald," she said calmly. "Did you speak to Sunset?"

Emerald nodded. "I just finished with her."

"Good," Cinder said. She paused for a moment. "How did she sound?"

Emerald hesitated. "We … share a common feeling that this is … ill advised."

Cinder chuckled. "Were you so careful with your words when you and Sunset were talking about Pyrrha and I behind our backs?"

"Yes, of course."

Cinder raised one eyebrow. "You're an excellent liar, Emerald."

"Thank you, Cinder."

Cinder smirked. "She is worried for Pyrrha, then?"

"She wouldn't admit it in so many words," Emerald said. "But yes, I think so." She paused for a moment. "I'm worried about you, too."

Cinder looked away, turning her face and her gaze back out upon the gardens. "Sunset should be concerned for Pyrrha."

"But I should not be worried about you?" Emerald asked.

"I…" Cinder hesitated for a moment. "Destiny is all," she said. "What terms did you agree with Sunset?"

"The duel will take place at midnight," Emerald said. "In a clearing in the Emerald Forest; that way, we won't be spotted by Atlesian forces, or Valish for that matter, although that's less of a concern. It's the same reason that I chose midnight; the darkness will give us cover."

Cinder nodded. "That is sensible, and I am not opposed to it. It will lend our battle a certain rarefied air." She smiled. "We will meet upon the witching hour of night, with unquiet spirits as our witnesses, and the moonlight shall shine upon our clashing blades." And by the end, Pyrrha will have become just such an unquiet spirit, or I will.

"Oh, that I had a lamb," she said.

"A lamb?"

"Or a pig," Cinder added. "Either would do."

"For what?" Emerald asked. "Why would you want either of them? Are you hungry?"

Always, but for something other than the flesh of an animal, Cinder thought. Her hunger was of a different sort, a sort that could not be sated, a sort that was eternal and restless and consuming. It gnawed at her, as if, in the absence of sustenance, it had begun to devour her own insides. Cinder tried to ignore it, since she could not sate it, but it was hard when it gnawed so hard and roared so loudly.

"I would cut their throats and make a sacrifice of them, as was done in the days of old," Cinder explained. "And I would let their blood pool in a cup, and with that blood, I'd paint my face all in red, I'd smear myself with it, I'd wash my hair in it and let the blood drops mat within my raven locks." She turned to face Emerald. "I would make myself a frightful apparition and appear before Pyrrha looking like something deathly monstrous."

"You'd ruin your dress," Emerald pointed out.

Cinder let out a bark of laughter. "Yes, yes, I suppose I would, and it isn't as though we can send out for dry cleaning. Perhaps it is a good thing there are no farm animals close at hand after all. Who will be there, aside from Pyrrha herself?"

"Two marshals," Emerald said. "I don't know who they'll be, except that Sunset won't be one of them. I insisted on that. After what happened with Adam, I don't trust her."

"No," Cinder agreed. "Sunset is … not without honour, but that honour would never stand up to the possibility of Pyrrha's death. To prevent that, she would break all oaths and violate all codes of conduct. So, it will be Jaune then, and … Ruby, perhaps, or someone else. A Mistralian. It matters not; by custom, they cannot interfere unless I or my marshals violate the customs of the duel, which I will not. Two marshals, then; once we are done here, tell Lightning Dust to start getting ready; I will have Tempest babysit Sonata until we return. Thank you, Emerald; you have done well."

Emerald smiled slightly. "My pleasure, Cinder."

Cinder was silent for a moment. "In Mistral," she said, "about half a mile south of the city wall, shielded from view of the road by some trees, there is a hill called CaoCao's hill. It is there, according to the old tales, that two lovers, Pylades and Deianeira, arranged to meet. You see, their fathers were great rivals and had forbidden the two to meet, but they had spoken through a chink in the wall that separated the gardens of their houses. In love, they arranged to meet at this hill and thence to fly far away where they might, without the peril of Mistralian law, be wed.

"Deianeira arrived first, but there, waiting in the darkness for her love, she was set upon by a beowolf. She fled, escaping from the grimm, but dropping her shawl in the process. The beowolf mauled upon the garment a little and then … wandered off, in search of other prey, leaving Deianeira's ruined shawl behind for Pylades to find when he arrived upon the hill. Believing his love to be dead at the paws of the grimm, he took his own life in grief, and then, returning to the scene to find Pylades dead, Deianeira did likewise."

"What a sad story," Emerald murmured. "Tragic, really."

"Is it?" Cinder asked.

"Isn't it?"

"Tragedy implies something … internal," Cinder said. "A flaw in the hero which drives him to his end. What happened to Pylades and Deianeira was sad, to be sure, but also the result of nothing more than bad luck; their own natures played no part in it. Unless it is their parents' tragedy; had they not been so bitter towards one another, so uncompromising … they could have allowed their children happiness, had they wished. Instead, they drove them to their deaths out of stubbornness and pride. In any case, if you go to that hill, you will find a cherry tree growing there now, and if you dig at the roots of the tree, you will find a sackful of treasure that I buried there some years previously."

Emerald blinked. "Treasure? You mean … like, pirate treasure?"

Cinder laughed. "No, Emerald, my life has not been quite that long to fit exploits of piracy into it, although the treasure that a pirate takes starts out as quite ordinary treasure before the pirate gets his hands upon it so … yes, I suppose you may be right, it is like pirate treasure. But this treasure … it belonged to my father."

Emerald's eyes widened somewhat. "Your father?"

Cinder nodded. "Inside the bag, you will find some of my mother's jewellery, a small number of Atlesian medals for service and gallantry, a bejewelled ornamental egg, an elegant snuff box, an engraved silver cigarette case … all of it mine by rights, liberated from those who had sought to deny it to me."

That was … not entirely true. Most of the contents of the buried sack belonged to Ashley Little-Glassman by right, from her father and her mother — her mother's jewellery, the egg that her father had gotten her mother for their anniversary, the snuff box and cigarette case that she had gotten him — but there were a few items in there that had belonged to the Kommenos family, like the gold and silver goblets that one of their ancestors had won in the conquest of Kaledonia. Those Cinder had taken in payment for her years of unpaid labour. But to say that would be to say more to Emerald than Cinder was willing to admit.

"Your family," Emerald murmured. "Why did you bury it?"

"I had no home," Cinder said. "And I could hardly carry a sack full of valuables with me on the road, could I? In any case, I … I had no immediate need of it."

"You could have sold it," Emerald pointed out.

"Perhaps," Cinder allowed. "Although I would have been forced to accept far below what the items were worth, in the circumstances, in order to find a buyer in the lower slopes. I was … not in much position to bargain at the time. And at the time…" At the time, I didn't want to sell them. I didn't want to cut this last tie with Ashley's life, with the life that I had known when I was happy.

"I didn't feel as though I needed the lien, at the time," Cinder went on. "I had other plans."

Emerald paused for a moment. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I'm giving it to you," Cinder said. "The treasure beneath the cherry tree; you may retrieve it and do with it as you will. It's all yours."

"But it's yours," Emerald replied. "Your family—"

"Mine to give to whom I choose," Cinder said, cutting her off. "You asked me once how you could be a lady without money, and I told you that I would address that later; well, here we are: I am addressing it. I am giving you wealth, at least enough to get started. When you open the sack, you will find that some of the things within are quite valuable. Make sure that you aren't cheated, and you should have a store of working capital at your disposal."

"And you'll be dead," Emerald said. "That's the point, isn't it? You mean to die, so you're leaving me everything."

"Would you rather I left it to Lightning Dust?" Cinder asked.

"I'd rather you didn't leave it to anyone at all," Emerald declared. She walked forwards, her heels tapping upon the wooden floor of the library, until she and Cinder were less than an arm's length apart. "Go to Mistral yourself, go to the hill with the cherry tree, dig up your own treasure, and—"

"And then what?"

"Whatever you want!" Emerald cried. "When you have money, you can do anything. Money is … it's freedom."

Cinder smiled thinly. "Yes," she said. "Yes, it is. Freedom to do as you will and to harm others if you wish." She turned away and turned her back on Emerald. "But I … I do not desire freedom."

"Do you seriously mean to tell me that in this whole wide world, there is nothing at all that you would consider living for?" Emerald asked.

"This wide world is so cruel," Cinder replied. "This wide world is so hostile. This wide world is so full of the most wretched, hideous, corrupt, contemptible, hateful people that you can imagine. So no, Emerald, there is nothing in this world that would persuade me to live in this world alongside those I hate, because that would mean letting them live too, and accepting all the cruelty and the pain. Rather, I will kill those I hate, as many as I can, all of them if I am allowed, and take a torch to this world and burn away the rotten flesh of its monstrosities. Though it cost me everything, I will do it."

After all, it has cost me so much already, I can hardly turn back now.

"Provided you don't die tonight," Emerald muttered.

Cinder snorted. "Yes, Emerald, provided that I do not die tonight."

"If…" Emerald murmured. "If you used—"

"No," Cinder said firmly. "I will not do that."

"But you'd win for sure!" Emerald protested.

"That is precisely why I will not; it would defeat the object, it would prove nothing," Cinder declared. "I am the truer warrior than Pyrrha is, the fire burns brighter in my breast, the beowolf howls louder in my soul, I am the hungrier to triumph by far than that complacent girl. I do not need to steal a victory, and if I did … it would undermine any claim to superiority I might possess. I will conquer with my own strength … or fall, if destiny would have it so."

My destiny is grander than to fall at Pyrrha's hands.

At least, I hope that it is so.

XxXxX​

Pyrrha's steps had taken her beyond the armoury, leaving the sounds of the forge behind as she approached the river that ran towards Vale. The water flowed past her, babbling as it went, a swift-flowing torrent rushing towards the sea. It was clean here, and it seemed almost golden in the afternoon sunlight; Pyrrha wondered if it would be so clean when it finally reached the ocean.

It reminded her of home a little; in Mistral, a spring sat near the top of the mountain and flowed down it, waterfall by waterfall, cascading down the steps carved into the rock, rushing down the slope, watering the high and middle and the low all at once; no matter how much might divide the people of Mistral, they all drank from the same water.

Pyrrha approached this river, here at Beacon, watching it flow past her, indifferent to her and to all her deeds. She might live, or she might die, and the water would keep on flowing just the same.

It was a thought both comforting and terrifying in equal measure.

The water flowed past her, just as it did back home.

Home where Pyrrha's thoughts turned now.

The Colosseum, the Temple of Victory, the White Tower, the Palace and the Fountain Courtyard; the Cthoneum, dug out of the heart of the mountain, where games were held each year at the turning of winter to spring to honour the gods of the underworld; the plazas, the statues, the steps emerging out of the slopes of the mountain to provide additional flat land to build upon. The columns and the colonnades, the gleaming marble, the polished bronze, the beauty. The way the banners on the walls rippled in the wind.

The way the crowd cheered as she emerged from darkness into light.

The way the paint felt on her face as they made her up for her triumphal chariot ride.

Her home. Her past. Her past … and her future too. Pyrrha closed her eyes and listened to the water running by in ignorance of her and vowed to herself that she would not perish at Cinder's hands; she would not accept that as her destiny. That was not her final goal, to die at the hands of a mean, black-hearted villain. That was not the end of the road that she was walking.

She would win, and she would go home, and she would see all those old places again, and more than once, and she would live amongst them with the respect of the people and of her peers.

This … this was the moment. This was what she had been preparing for her whole life, though she knew it not, this moment when she would confront an enemy bent on doing grievous harm to the world: not an immortal demon, not a host of monsters, but a woman, like her. A woman swift and strong, just like her, but a woman she could defeat.

A woman she could kill.

Pyrrha wondered what that would be like. To take a life. Jaune had done it, Sunset had done it, but she … this would be her first.

And she did not know what it would be like, to see blood stain Miló, to see it spill upon the ground and know that she had been the cause.

Better Cinder's blood than innocent blood, Pyrrha thought. She did not know how she would react, but … she would bear it, to say the least.

It might not be in fashion to rejoice at the death of an enemy as the heroes of old had done, but that did not mean that Pyrrha had to weep for them either.

Cinder had chosen this path. She could not complain about where it led.

This is how I will protect the world.

Pyrrha's eyes snapped open as her scroll went off. She frowned a little beneath her circlet as she fished the device out of her pouch, wondering who would be calling her. Perhaps it was one of her friends; better them than the press wanting a comment.

Somewhat to her surprise, it was Blake.

Pyrrha opened up her scroll and answered it. "Blake?"

Blake's face looked up at her from out of the screen. "Hey, Pyrrha; I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time."

"No, it's fine," Pyrrha said quickly. "Although I am a little surprised to hear from you."

"Well, I was surprised to find out that you'd challenge Cinder to a fight to the death," Blake replied. "So I guess … no, I'm still the more surprised."

"You know about that?" Pyrrha said. "I wouldn't have expected it to be news in Atlas."

"It isn't," Blake said. "But I keep an eye on the Valish news; I have push notifications set up; I want to know in case anything happens while I'm gone."

"I see," Pyrrha said evenly. "Are you going to try and talk me out of it?"

Blake smirked. "Now why would I want to do a thing like that?"

"Some people seem to feel as though I'm making a mistake," Pyrrha explained.

"Rainbow Dash would probably think so, if she were here," Blake admitted. "But she isn't, I am, and I … I envy you a little."

"'Envy'?"

"I trust that you wouldn't be doing this if you didn't think you could win," Blake said. "Has she taken the bait?"

"Bait implies there is a trap somewhere," Pyrrha observed. "There is not. There is only me, with Miló in one hand and Akoúo̱ in the other, ready to partake in one of the most ancient and, in some ways, most sacred of rituals."

"Very well," Blake allowed. "Has she agreed to duel with you?"

"She has," Pyrrha said. "We meet at midnight in the Emerald Forest."

"Midnight," Blake murmured. "Appropriate. The death of one day and the rising of another."

"When you put it like that," Pyrrha murmured.

"It's much like the rationale for meeting at dawn, no?" Blake asked.

"I suppose so, but I think that Cinder wishes the cover of darkness as much as the symbolism."

"The pragmatic and the poetic can coexist," Blake pointed out. "The point is … I envy that you have an enemy you can defeat. You can face your foe in single combat, defeat her, kill her even. And then she will be dead and done, and the world will be a better place for it. I wish that I could be so fortunate."

"Racism is not so easily overcome as Cinder Fall," Pyrrha said softly.

"No," Blake said. "No, it isn't." She paused for a moment. "Which is why I think you're very lucky. You get the chance to make a difference with a stroke of your sword."

"With good fortune."

"Tyche Agathe," Blake translated. "Those are the words on your honour band, aren't they?"

"They are, yes."

"Then fortune will favour you," Blake declared.

"Because I am in the right?" Pyrrha asked.

"Why not?" Blake responded. "Right will win out in the end. I believe that. I have to believe that. Right will win so long as we have the courage to fight for it. Pyrrha, will you do something for me?"

"What?"

"Call me tomorrow," Blake said, "and tell me how you conquered."

Pyrrha smiled. "I will," she said. "I promise."

Blake nodded on the other side of the scream. "Then I will leave you to your preparations. Good fortune and fate smile upon you."

She hung up.

"Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha turned from the waist, twisting her body around to look behind her. Ruby stood there, hands clasped together in front of her.

"Ruby," Pyrrha said, putting her scroll away. "How did you—?"

"I've been looking for you," Ruby replied. "I… I don't want to disturb you, but … can we talk? Just for a little bit, I promise."

"Of course," Pyrrha said, "we can talk for as long as you like."

A smile appeared briefly upon Ruby's face, and then faded as she walked towards Pyrrha. She came to stand by Pyrrha's side, not looking right at her, but rather looking at the river that flowed past them, heading onwards towards Vale and the ocean beyond.

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the water's rippling sound as it went by.

Ruby gripped her left elbow with her right hand, her silver gaze falling downwards towards the ground.

"You know," she said, "if I could … I'd give you my eyes."

Pyrrha looked down at her. "Ruby—"

"It's fine," Ruby said, "I get it. The power that I have is kind of incredible, and it would be even more if I knew how to use it better. But if I could … I'd give it to you, if that would make you happy." She looked up at Pyrrha, a slightly mischievous smile playing across her face. "I'm not sure Jaune would like silver eyes as much as he likes your green eyes, though."

Pyrrha covered her mouth with one hand as she chuckled. "Ruby … I don't want to steal your power away from you."

"But you wouldn't be, if I gave it to you," Ruby pointed out.

"No," Pyrrha murmured. "No, I suppose you wouldn't be. But you can't."

"No," Ruby admitted. "I guess I can't, but … but I would, if it would make you happy."

"You would give up your power just to make me happy?"

"Well, that and because I know that you'd make good use of it," Ruby added. She paused for a moment, looking away from Pyrrha. "I … I never wanted to be a hero."

Unlike me, Pyrrha thought, although Ruby's tone, soft and slightly melancholy, made it hard to tell if she was being rebuked or not. Her response was cautious, "No?"

"No," Ruby said. "I was never … growing up, I knew about Mom, Yang used to tell me stories, but … nobody used to tell me that I had to be like her, nobody told me that I wasn't living up to her example, nobody told me that I needed to uphold the Rose name."

"So you think it is my upbringing that has bred this desire in me?" Pyrrha asked.

"Hasn't it?" Ruby replied.

Pyrrha was quiet for a moment. "You may be right, at least in large part," she admitted, "but I could have upheld the dignity of the Nikos name by remaining in Mistral and racking up an endless succession of tournament victories. I chose this path for myself." A sigh escaped her. "Although I suppose that 'this path' need not have included my more grandiose ambitions. You think I'm being vain, don't you?"

"No," Ruby said. "I don't … I've been looking for you because I don't want you to think that … I wasn't trying to insult you; I just… I get frustrated sometimes, because—"

"Because we have given you cause for frustration," Pyrrha murmured.

Ruby snorted. "Yeah. Yeah, pretty much."

"I am sorry for that; it was…" Pyrrha trailed off, unable to say quite what it was. "It came from care, perhaps even the same care that now drives you to think I am the one making a mistake."

Ruby took a moment to reply. "If … if you wanted to stand your ground against a horde of grimm to help one hundred people, ten people, even just one person get away, even though it would cost you your life … I would never say a word against it; Sunset might, but I wouldn't. I wouldn't think less of you, and I wouldn't hear a word said against you, either. But this…"

"It is true that nobody's life is directly threatened at present," Pyrrha acknowledged.

"We're here to help people," Ruby said. "Not to cover ourselves in glory. When there are lives at stake then we should be prepared to give everything, even our lives, but now … nothing's at stake here but—"

"But my life, and that of Cinder Fall," Pyrrha said. "But tell me, Ruby, and tell me true and honestly … how may I help people better than by striking down Salem's champion and, with her, killing all her plots and schemes? What better service to the people can I offer? True, I will not save a life directly, no one will thank me for their salvation, but what of that? Is help not help regardless?"

"But if that's what this is about, then let's go together!" Ruby cried, balling her hands into fists and raising them up to just beneath her chin. "Let me and Sunset go into the Emerald Forest with you, we'll lie in wait and ambush Cinder, we'll take her down together."

"Lure her into a trap?" Pyrrha asked. "Deceive her? Break my word?"

"She'd do it to us," Ruby said.

"I'm not entirely sure that's true," Pyrrha murmured, "and even if it was, don't we have an obligation to be better than her?"

"We are better than her," Ruby insisted. "We're fighting for … for life against death, like Professor Ozpin said; what could be more obviously right than that?"

"And so the justice of our cause justifies anything that we might do in its name?"

"Yes!" Ruby declared. "When our enemies are trying to destroy the world and cause massive death and destruction, there is nothing we could do that would make us worse than them: lie, betray … kill, if we have to; with lives and kingdoms at stake, how can we do any less?"

"You … may be right," Pyrrha murmured. "In fact, I dare say that you are right, but … when I issued my challenge, I implicitly gave my word that I would act in accordance with the traditional customs around such things; I cannot break it."

"Can't, or won't?"

"Will not, if you will," Pyrrha conceded. "I will not steal a victory, but earn it."

Ruby was silent for a moment. "Well," she said. "If you're gonna win, then I guess it doesn't matter that much how you do it. You are gonna win, right?"

"That is certainly my intent," Pyrrha said.

Ruby wrapped her arms around Pyrrha's waist, pressing herself against the taller girl. "Come back, okay?" she asked. "Come back with your shield."

"With my shield," Pyrrha said. "Or on it."

"No," Ruby said. "Not on it. With your shield; I won't accept anything else."

Pyrrha smiled and returned the embrace, placing both her arms around Ruby. "Very well then," she said. "With my shield, I will return."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Her Name Means Victory

​

Night had fallen. The moon was up in all its shattered and fragmented glory, and that fragmented silver light shone down to glimmer upon Pyrrha's armour.

Pyrrha stood upon the cliffs now, her hands clasped together in front of her, waiting.

Waiting for Arslan, in the most practical, pragmatic and immediate sense, but also waiting for the moment to depart.

Waiting for the battle that was to come.

Jaune was with her — naturally, since he would be coming with her — and so too were Sunset and Ruby, here at the cliffs to see her off.

There was no one else, for which — the absence of Arslan aside — Pyrrha was very thankful.

"She's late," Sunset remarked.

"Arslan will be here," Pyrrha said quietly.

"What if she's decided not to show up?" Sunset asked.

Pyrrha shook her head. "That isn't her style; if she had changed her mind, she would have told me so before now."

"I admit, she seemed like a good sort in the forest," Sunset murmured. She paused for a moment, glancing away from Pyrrha, reaching up to scratch the back of her head with one hand. Her tail was limp, hanging loosely down between her legs, almost touching the grass beneath her feet.

"Listen, Pyrrha," she said. "I … I feel like I owe you an apology."

"Really?" Pyrrha replied. "For my part, I cannot think why."

"No?" Sunset asked. "Come on, it can't have … I mean … I wouldn't want you to think that I don't have faith in you. I'm afraid … I wouldn't want it to seem like the reason I didn't like this was because I thought you'd lose, because that's not it." She looked at Pyrrha now. "You're the best fighter I know, and my best friend, and I absolutely believe in you, and I've always believed in you ever since you managed to beat me while I was going all out, so … if it comes down to it that only one of you is going to walk away from this in one piece, it's going to be you, but … it's just that … it's just that you're my best friend and—"

"Sunset," Pyrrha said softly, yet firmly enough to cut her off before she could continue. "I understand."

Sunset's ears, which had begun to wilt like flowers deprived of water for too long, pricked up a little. "You do?"

Pyrrha nodded. "I admit that … it was a little vexing to me, especially since it seemed to confirm … everything. It's true that I would have preferred a more full-throated expression of confidence, but … Nora had a word with me, earlier today; she explained that concern need not necessarily imply a lack of faith and that … that I should be charitable to those who loved me and not assume the worst of them."

"Nora said that?" Sunset asked.

Pyrrha nodded.

Sunset snorted, and a little giggle escaped her.

"Is something funny?" Pyrrha asked.

"Not really," Sunset admitted. "But it was Yang who told me that I needed to actually tell you that I believe in you, or you'd take my concern for lack of faith."

Pyrrha let out a little laugh of her own. "I see. The ladies of Team Iron are as wise students of human nature as they are students here at Beacon."

"Mmm," Sunset murmured. "If they were keeping Blake, they would be … formidable indeed." She paused for a moment. "So you understand, then? It was never … I know you can do this. I know your quality, your capability, but—"

"But you are aware of Cinder's also, and aware too that, in battle, there is always an element of chance," Pyrrha said. "I understand, and I thank you for your concern, but—"

"But now is not the time for doubt," Sunset said. She walked towards her, her tail beginning to shake back and forth behind her as she went. "Now is the time to say," she smirked a little, "that I am so very confident in your success that I'm going to go to bed as soon as you leap off this cliff and fall asleep with nary a care in the world."

Pyrrha chuckled. "If you wish, I will not begrudge you your rest."

Sunset reached out and took Pyrrha's hands in her own. "You are our champion, just as I told you. You will always be our champion, and you will cut through any single foe who dares to stand against you. You will win."

Pyrrha was silent a moment. "Is this … hard, for you?"

"Hard?"

"That I and Cinder—"

"No," Sunset said firmly. "If it comes to a choice between you two … there is no choice. You are the one whose life matters to me, you are the one whose victory I desire, you are the one I would see with victory's laurel upon your brow."

Pyrrha was not certain that Sunset could be so certain as she sounded, but she appreciated the attempt at resolve nonetheless. It was what she needed to hear.

What she needed to believe.

"It is … strange," Pyrrha murmured, "to think that this may — this will — be over soon."

"'Over'?" Ruby asked.

"Cinder dead," Pyrrha explained. "Cinder dead and her threat dead with her, banished from Vale."

"But Salem will still be out there," Ruby pointed out. "There'll be other battles, other missions."

"But not right now," Jaune said, and as he spoke, he wrapped an arm around Pyrrha's waist. "Not for a while, maybe, while she … finds some other Cinder who hates the world enough to try and destroy it, while she makes her plans, figures out what to do next."

"Indeed, Mister Arc," Professor Ozpin said, emerging out of the darkness. "Always, the shadow lengthens and grows again, but that does not mean that the effort to cut it down to size is not worth making or that the interludes of peace are not worth enjoying."

Sunset let Pyrrha's hands fall from her grasp. "Professor?"

"I hope you forgive the interruption," Professor Ozpin said, a genial smile upon his face. He had one hand clasped behind him and the other resting upon the handle of his cane, which rested on the ground beside his foot. "I thought that I might come and see you off, Miss Nikos."

"Thank you, Professor," Pyrrha said. "I didn't wish you to put you to any trouble."

"No trouble at all, Miss Nikos; I often work late, in any event," Professor Ozpin replied. "And this strikes me as the very least that I can do, in the circumstances. You are very brave to take this path."

"This is my skill, Professor," Pyrrha replied. "My glory, if I have such a thing to glory in. If I did not take this path, I would be not only unworthy of your service, but also unworthy of much else besides that … has turned out to be dear to me. I … I did not love my reputation until I began to contemplate what I might be without it."

"You would yet be a brave girl, Miss Nikos," Professor Ozpin assured her. "But, if you think your reputation, and your sense of self, is worth fighting for, then I will neither begrudge you nor call you mistaken. Every student at this school comes here for their own reasons, driven by their own motives, and those motives are all equally useful."

"'Useful'?" Jaune asked.

"In driving the students to excel," Professor Ozpin explained, "and to perform acts of gallantry and devotion."

"So, when Pyrrha wins," Ruby said, "you think that there'll be … a break?"

Professor Ozpin nodded slowly. "It is the way, or at least, so it is recorded in the accounts that have come down to me from my predecessors. Salem will make some fresh attempt upon our defences, that attempt will be beaten back, and then there is a lull while Salem … regroups, replaces her losses, and as Mister Arc perceptively pointed out, decides where and when to strike again. Miss Nikos' victory will not release you from this battle — unless you wish to take your leave of it; you are not bound to it in perpetuity — but it will afford you breathing room, I hope, for a few years at least."

"A few years," Pyrrha murmured.

"The few years at school that we should have had without all of this stuff getting in the way," Jaune said.

"Quite so, Mister Arc."

"We could compete in the Vytal Festival without having to feel as though it was unimportant," Sunset said. "Or that we were somehow slacking off by taking part in it."

"And spend the next three years with only classes and grades to worry about," Jaune added.

"And graduate," Pyrrha said. "And only then, only once we had become true huntsmen and huntresses, would we even need to consider the possibility that Salem's shadow might darken the world once again."

"Perhaps not even then," Jaune added.

"Indeed," Professor Ozpin said. "Sometimes, whole generations can pass between one effort of Salem's and the next. When one is immortal, I suppose one has the luxury of patience."

"'Generations'?" Ruby asked. "So … so when Pyrrha wins, this might … it might be the last you need of us?"

"I wouldn't go quite that far, Miss Rose; after all, Salem made no great offensive in your parents' time, but I still had need of their services; the shadow weakens, but it never disappears completely, and I am never completely without need of trusted agents whom I can rely on."

"And you will be able to rely on us, Professor," Pyrrha assured him, "but, all the same…" All the same, it sounded as though it would all so much more low-key; low-key and perhaps even low stakes. Well, comparatively, at least. It sounded as though they would have the peace to enjoy the remainder of their time at school together, and then to plan their futures with only minimal involvement from Professor Ozpin and his need of them. They might stay together as a team, and Pyrrha rather hoped they would, or else Ruby and Sunset would go their own way, and Pyrrha and Jaune would go to Mistral as they had discussed while babysitting Adrian, but either way, their choices would not be dictated for them by Salem's threat.

It was … a liberating notion. Three years of fun and friends and laughter, three years with Jaune, three years with no shadow hanging over them, and then … who knew?

A golden world lay before them, and all she had to do was triumph tonight.

"Pyrrha!"

Pyrrha turned to see Arslan approaching at a jog, waving at her with one hand.

Pyrrha raised her own hand in greeting. "I told you she'd be here," she said mildly.

Sunset didn't reply, but then, she didn't really need to.

Arslan drew near, stopping just a few feet away from Pyrrha and the others. "Hey," she said. She paused as she noticed Professor Ozpin. "Professor. I wasn't expecting to see you here."

"One of my students is about to descend and fight a battle against an enemy of mankind," Professor Ozpin observed. "Where else should I be but here to bid her farewell and good fortune?"

"Um," Arslan murmured. "To be honest, Professor, I'm a little surprised you're not trying to stop this. This isn't Mistral, after all."

"True," Professor Ozpin agreed. "But as the Vytal Festival draws ever closer, let me remind you that this is a time for the sharing of ideas, the experiencing of new customs, the mingling of cultures in an atmosphere of enthusiasm and curiosity. If I were to take a chauvinist line and insist that Vale knows best, well … that would be rather contrary to the spirit of the times, would it not?"

"I … suppose so."

Professor Ozpin chuckled. "My apologies, Miss Altan; when one has been a teacher for as long as I have, one can rarely resist the opportunity for a lesson. Of course, what I should really do is thank you for accompanying Miss Nikos tonight."

Arslan bowed from the waist. "A girl from the lower slope can have as much honour as a princess, if she wishes it." As she straightened up, she said to Pyrrha, "Sorry I'm a little late; everyone wanted to come and see you off, and it took me a little bit to persuade them not to."

"I see," Pyrrha said. "I appreciate that you did."

"I thought you might," Arslan replied. "I wouldn't have minded a crowd of well wishers, but that was never your style."

"Not since I began to doubt that they truly wished me well," Pyrrha said.

"That's a little unfair," Arslan said. "Everyone's rooting for you."

"Nevertheless," Pyrrha said, "the presence of my friends is all that I require."

She looked at them, Sunset and Ruby. "Sunset, Ruby, I—"

"With your shield," Ruby said.

Pyrrha smiled and nodded firmly. "With my shield."

Sunset was silent for a moment. "The hero must go," she said, "but the true hero must also return," — she smiled — "trailing clouds of glory."

"I do not know about whole clouds of glory," Pyrrha said, "but I shall wear laurel on my brow ere I return." Or I will not return. "I … you…"

"No goodbyes," Sunset said. "Just … go, and then come back again."

"No goodbyes," Pyrrha agreed. She turned then to her marshals. "Jaune, Arslan, are you ready?"

"Yep," said Arslan.

"I'm ready," agreed Jaune.

"Very well then," Pyrrha said, and the moonlight glinted on her circlet, making it shine upon her brow as she faced the cliffs and the long drop into the forest.

Pyrrha breathed deeply in and out, her chest rising and falling.

"Let us go, and either fall yielding glory to another or else win great glory for ourselves."

Pyrrha ran, dashing swiftly towards the cliffs before throwing herself off the edge in a great leap, arms spread out on either side of her as she fell downwards, speeding like an arrow loosed from the string, down and down into the darkness, down towards the forest.

The air buffeted her face, pressing at her cheeks as though it was trying to mould them like clay. Her crimson sash and vibrant red ponytail both alike streamed out behind her like banners in a cavalry charge. The trees rushed up towards her.

Pyrrha brought Akoúo̱ out from off her back and held in front of her face, using it to crash through the stout branches that lay in her path, slowing her descent with each obstacle she hit and shattered, battering her way down to the forest floor on which she landed, gracefully, upon her feet.

She slung her shield upon her back once more and ran both hands through her long ponytail, scraping out any twigs or branches that might have gotten lodged there.

She didn't want to appear before Cinder looking as though she'd been dragged through a hedge — even if she'd actually been dragged through a tree.

Jaune took a similar approach to herself, using his shield to break his fall and break his way through anything that stood between him and the ground, but he managed it with a little less grace, flopping down onto the forest floor on his face and belly.

"Jaune, are you alright?" Pyrrha asked as she rushed to his side.

"Yeah," Jaune murmured as he let Pyrrha help him to his feet. "I've got a lot of aura, remember?" He grinned. "And besides, I didn't need you to pin me to a tree this time, so that's an improvement in my book."

"What's this about a tree?" Arslan called down from above. She had buried her knife in the great trunk of one of the mighty trees and was now hanging from it by a rope tied around the hilt. As Pyrrha looked up, Arslan scurried back upwards, climbing up the rope while keeping her feet on the tree trunk, and freed her knife before jumping down to join the others.

"I'd be happy to tell you the story of our Initiation," Pyrrha said. "But perhaps not right now."

"No," Arslan murmured. "No, not right now."

"How's everyone's aura?" Jaune asked. "Does anyone need a boost?"

"Don't worry about me, but you should top up Pyrrha, since she's the one who has to fight tonight," Arslan said.

"I didn't lose very much," Pyrrha said.

"You should be at your maximum anyway," Jaune told her, placing his hand upon her shoulder as it began to glow with the rippling golden light of his semblance.

It poured over her, spreading across her bare shoulders, over her face, down her cuirass towards her legs and down her legs to the ground; it was a gentle, comforting sensation, like a shower that was not too hot, but just the right temperature to soothe and refresh as it washed off the sweat of a hard day's exertions.

It ended almost too soon for Pyrrha's liking, but then, she hadn't lost very much aura, after all.

They set out through the Emerald Forest, picking their way through the darkness — Pyrrha had brought a little torch with her, and Jaune a larger one; Arslan used the torch on her scroll — towards the coordinates that they had been given. At times, Pyrrha felt a sensation in her aura as though she was being watched, as though there was something out there in the dark, but no grimm troubled them; they were not assailed upon the way by beowolf or ursa, their approach to the location of the duel was completely uneventful. Not even a distant roar or howl disturbed them.

Until they reached the clearing specified, where the moonlight fell upon the glade through the gap in the trees, casting the space in pale, silvery light.

And there, in the clearing, illuminated by the moonlight, stood Cinder Fall.

"So," she said. "You have come."

XxXxX​

Sunset stood upon the edge of the cliff, looking out across the forest as the moonlight bathed the trees.

She could not see Pyrrha down there, or Jaune; she couldn't see anything but the trees, the trees which concealed all else which walked upon the world below.

Yet she stood there nonetheless and watched.

"Do you think…?" Ruby began, but then trailed off.

Sunset looked at her. "Do I think what?"

Ruby hesitated for a moment. "No, it doesn't matter."

"You've started now," Sunset pointed out. "You may as well finish."

Still Ruby hesitated for a moment, before she said, "Do you think we should go after them?"

Sunset kept her eyes on Ruby. "Go after them and…"

"And ambush Cinder," Ruby finished. "We know where they are, where Cinder's going to be; we could take her out."

Sunset was silent for a moment. It was … tempting, honestly. As much as her feelings about Cinder's death could be described as ambivalent, she had meant what she said to Pyrrha: when it came down to a choice between them, there really was no choice. She would not give up Pyrrha for Cinder. And so … yes, it was tempting: go down there, reach the clearing by a different route, interrupt the duel.

Dishonour herself, and what was far more, dishonour Pyrrha in the process.

"Have you spoken to Pyrrha about this idea?" she asked.

"Yeah," Ruby admitted. "Pyrrha didn't like it."

"I can't say I'm surprised," Sunset replied. "What happened to letting people make their own choices, even if you don't agree with them?"

"This is … different," Ruby said. "You asked me whether I'd respect Leaf's choice if she was choosing to get a load of dust together and blow something up."

"You said I was being ridiculous," Sunset pointed out, "and Pyrrha isn't threatening to blow anyone up either, so I'm not entirely sure what you're implying."

"Of course Pyrrha isn't doing that," Ruby said, sounding a little frustrated that Sunset hadn't gotten her point, "but … Cinder might, if Pyrrha loses."

"Pyrrha isn't going to lose," Sunset said.

"Pyrrha's not around to hear anymore," Ruby said. "You don't have to pretend. It's not an insult to Pyrrha to say that bad things can happen, even to the best."

"Yes," Sunset murmured. "They do. But … as tempting as it is, no. We're not going to do that."

"Why not?"

"Because Pyrrha is our friend, and we're going to have some faith in her," Sunset insisted. "If we do as you suggest, yes, we might get Cinder, we might get everything that Professor Ozpin just promised us, but what is that going to say to Pyrrha? That we didn't think she could do it? That we didn't think she was up to the task? No, she has … told herself that often enough; we aren't going to tell her that as well. This is what she wants; this is what she needs. And so, we are going to stay here, and we are going to wait for her return."

"Miss Shimmer is correct, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin said. "And so, by the sounds of it — although I admit I may be missing something from the context of your conversation — were your initial instincts. Choice … is the greatest gift that the gods have bestowed upon mankind."

"Even the choice to do evil, Professor?" Ruby asked.

"The gift of choice was given that mankind might choose between good and evil, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin informed. "The path of creation, or the path of destruction. Of course, we also have the choice to fight against evil, stop it from harming others, and that is precisely the choice that Miss Nikos has made. Though it may not be the optimal choice to achieve your desired ends, it is her choice and should be respected for all that."

"Yes, Professor," Ruby murmured.

"That being said," Professor Ozpin went on, "I am not sure how much purpose there is in remaining here, upon this cold cliff, with nothing to see and nothing to do. If you would both care to come with me to my office—"

"No, thank you, Professor," Sunset said, a touch of sharpness in her tongue. "With your permission, I would remain here. I will look for their coming from this cliff until they return."

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. "I'm sure that it feels like an act of devotion on your part, Miss Shimmer, to wait, but … Miss Nikos will not know you waited, and it will afford her no advantage on the battlefield. Nothing will come from your discomfiting yourself but … your discomfort." He paused for a moment. "I waited thus, the first times I sent agents out to do battle on my behalf, to go where I could not, to do what I could not; I bid them farewell, and then I remained where I had been as they departed, and I waited. Until I realised that it made no difference to the success or … failure of the mission; it helped them not, and it wasn't helping me either. So now—"

"You go to bed, Professor?" Sunset asked.

Professor Ozpin smiled thinly. "No, Miss Shimmer. I still wait. I do not think that I could do otherwise, even if I wished to. But now, I wait in my office, where it is a little warmer. I worry, yes, I fret, I wait, I watch … but I do it all in just a little more comfort."

Sunset considered his words. She regretted the sharpening of her tone earlier; she had not considered what ought to have been obvious, that Professor Ozpin had done this sort of thing many times before; it was not callousness that moved him to speak but a different sort of care.

Nevertheless, she was not sure that she could agree with him; maybe it would not help Pyrrha; in fact, it certainly wouldn't help Pyrrha to stand here, on the cliff, watching and seeing nothing.

But it might help herself.

"I apologise for my tone, Professor," Sunset murmured as she drew Soteria across her back and planted its point upon the grass of the cliff. "But I fear I cannot take your counsel. You may be right, but … without my own experience to teach me the wisdom of it, I fear that all I would feel is guilt."

"I understand, Miss Shimmer," Professor Ozpin said. "Perhaps it is one of those things that must be learnt practically. Matters of the heart are always the hardest things to learn from our elders. Very well then, Miss Shimmer, you shall remain here." He planted his cane upon the ground. "And I shall wait with you."

XxXxX​

"So," Cinder said. "You have come."

Her bow was in her hands, the moonlight glinting off the polished black glass. Beyond the clearing, Pyrrha could just make out the figures of Emerald Sustrai and Lightning Dust, seeming almost to lurk in the darkness. They were Cinder's marshals, she guessed.

Of course they are; who else is available to her?

Pyrrha strode into the clearing. "Did you expect that I would not come?"

"No, I thought you'd be here," Cinder said. She smirked. "But that doesn't mean I can't be glad you did." She glanced past Pyrrha. "Jaune," she said. "And … Arslan Altan, the Golden Lion of Mistral; I confess that I'm surprised to see you here."

Arslan grunted wordlessly.

"They are your marshals, then?" Cinder asked.

"They are," Pyrrha replied. "As I presume yours stand behind you."

"They do," Cinder said. She paused for a moment. "I cannot say I know who spread those lies about you, Pyrrha, but I must say I'm glad they did, seeing as it has brought us to this moment." Her voice dropped, becoming barely more than a whisper. "I have dreamed of this moment."

"I did not come here to bandy words with you," Pyrrha declared, drawing Miló across her back. Her weapon shifted smoothly into rifle mode in her hands, clicking and snapping as it transformed, every part of the weapon shifting into place. She gripped it tightly but kept the barrel down, pointing towards the ground. "But to speak with my sword and listen with my shield."

Cinder chuckled. "If that is how you feel … but are you sure that you don't want to give Jaune one last kiss?"

"What need have I to kiss Jaune now?" Pyrrha asked. "I will give him many kisses once this duel is over, in the days and years we have to come."

Cinder raised one eyebrow, but the smirk remained upon her face; in fact, Pyrrha even thought it grew a little, although whether that was because she was amused by Pyrrha's response or she thought Pyrrha arrogant, Pyrrha could not have said for certain.

She began to walk, sidling across the clearing, moving in a circle that would have brought her onto Pyrrha's side if Pyrrha had not begun to move as well. The two of them circled one another, like two proud bulls who have come across one another in the field. Neither one willing to give place to the other, they snort and strut upon the ground and paw the earth with their hooves and wait for the moment to lock horns.

No, she may be a bull, but I must be the lion that leaps down on the proud bull from the high rock and slashes it to pieces with my claws.

Cinder moved with a feline grace herself, crossing her legs as she sidestepped; the moonlight upon her glass slippers made them sparkle, as though they were made of diamond, not of glass.

Cinder's gaze flickered to Arlsan. "What are you doing?"

Arslan had her scroll out, held up before her face. "I'm recording this, for proof that it happened."

"Really?" Cinder purred, and she reached up with her free hand to primp her curled black hair.

"You've no objection?" Pyrrha said. It was not against the rules, but it was hardly done, and if Cinder objected to it, then it would be bad form to go ahead and do it anyway.

"Object? Oh no," Cinder said. "Film away. To be honest, that was the one thing that would have been missing from this experience. I want the world to watch you die, Pyrrha Nikos; I want everyone to see you fall, at my hands, and know that I defeated you in clean combat because I am Mistral's evenstar! I embody the spirit of our heroes' past in ways you couldn't even dream of."

"Perhaps," Pyrrha conceded. "Perhaps, in all your wrath, in your anger, in your desire to deal out death and destruction for nothing more than your own prestige, you do stand in direct line to the great heroes of old in ways that I do not, nor ever could. Very well then. I will yield that glory to you, for if I can be instead the morning star of a new Mistral, kinder and gentler and less self-absorbed, then that would please me better in any case."

"'Self absorbed'?" Cinder demanded.

Pyrrha's only response was to raise her eyebrows.

Cinder snorted. "You speak very prettily with your tongue for one who came to speak with spear and sword."

"As do you," Pyrrha murmured.

Cinder gave the slightest, almost imperceptible bow of her head. "Well then," she said. "Here we are."

"Yes," Pyrrha agreed. "Here we are."

They were silent for a moment, their eyes fixed upon one another.

Pyrrha could hear her heart thumping in her chest.

"I will make a bargain with you," Cinder said. "Let us vow that whoever triumphs shall see that the loser receives an honourable burial."

"I shall grant that to you, and gladly," Pyrrha replied. "But for myself, I ask that if you send my soul down to the shades, you allow my body to be taken by my friends, that they may bear it homeward, to be laid to rest in my mother's house alongside my ancestors."

"Of course," Cinder said. "I bear you malice, but I am not a barbarian to pursue my wrath beyond the grave." She nocked an arrow to her bow. "Shall we begin?"

Pyrrha put her finger to the trigger of her rifle. "We shall."

Cinder raised her bow. Pyrrha raised her rifle, firing her first shot before she had fully raised the rifle to her shoulder — it didn't matter if her aim was poor; what mattered was that she get the first shot off before Cinder could loose an arrow. Her round thudded into the ground at Cinder's feet, but Cinder shuffled her foot to avoid it and did not loose.

Pyrrha charged towards her, and as she charged, Miló now at her shoulder, she fired again, and a third time. She missed both times, as Cinder ducked and sidestepped away, but she did not loose an arrow.

And then there was no time as Pyrrha was on her.

Miló switched from rifle to sword in Pyrrha's right hand as, with her left, she pulled Akoúo̱ from off her back onto the vambrace on her left arm. As she closed the distance with her foe, Pyrrha drew back her left arm and — as Miló completed its transformation — lashed out with Akoúo̱ like a discus in a sideways slashing stroke in a wide arc.

The blow struck Cinder's bow clean in the middle, and as Cinder recoiled before it, the bow shattered into fragments of glass — fragments which reformed in the air into a pair of obsidian scimitars which flew, unerringly, into Cinder's hands.

Cinder's smile was savage as she leapt to the attack. Pyrrha strode forward to meet her, her expression set, determined.

Cinder slashed wildly with her right hand; Pyrrha took the blow on Akoúo̱, turning the stroke aside. She countered with a slash of her own aimed at Cinder's neck, but Cinder parried with the sword in her left hand. Pyrrha drew back her sword, slashed again, Cinder parried again; a third time, Pyrrha's sword swept down and beat on Cinder's guard like a wave beating upon the sea wall, and a third time, the wall of Cinder's guard took the blow without flinching.

A fourth time, Pyrrha drew back her blade, but this time, she tossed Miló lightly into the air, having first triggered its transformation from sword to spear, and while it spun, Pyrrha reversed her grip and thrust Miló down overarm like a thunderbolt to slam into Cinder's collarbone.

Cinder spun around but recovered swiftly, turning the movement forced upon her into a graceful pirouette, flowing like water to face Pyrrha once again, both swords held above her head in a high guard.

Pyrrha charged for her. Cinder did not try to form her bow but rushed to meet Pyrrha. Pyrrha thrust underarm with her spear, aiming for Cinder's belly. Cinder met the thrust with both her hands, striking Miló just below the head and turning it aside, before she reversed her right hand blade and slashed upwards with in a blow that would have sliced from Pyrrha's navel up to her shoulder.

Again, Pyrrha took the blow upon Akoúo̱ and turned it aside. Cinder was open, but she leapt before Pyrrha could attempt to take advantage, jumping high up into the air, somersaulting over her head.

Pyrrha threw Akoúo̱ at her, the shield spinning like a disc as it cut through the air, but Cinder twisted in mid-air as nimbly as a salmon as she began to descend behind Pyrrha.

Pyrrha gripped Miló — still in spear mode — in both hands as she turned, thrusting it out as Cinder landed.

Cinder caught Miló between her glass scimitars, wedging it just below the point.

Pyrrha extended the spear, the point shooting out with a bang to strike Cinder the second time.

Cinder's face twisted into a snarl of anger.

Good. Be angry; you'll make more mistakes that way.

Miló spun in Pyrrha's hand, and she plucked Akoúo̱ out of the air as it fell and slung it back across her back. She returned her free hand back to her spear, whirling it in her grasp as she slashed at Cinder with point and shaft in equal measure. Cinder fell back before her, but she parried every blow that Pyrrha sought to make; while she might not have been expertly tutored, her natural speed made up for it in most respects.

Yet she fell back, nevertheless.

She fell back, and her guard faltered, leaving an opening for Pyrrha.

An egregious opening; that is a trap.

Pyrrha did not take the bait, not striking for the opening but rather, halting her assault, retreating a pace with her guard up.

Cinder counterattacked, slashing with both her swords in parallel. Pyrrha parried with the shaft of Miló, but now it was Cinder's turn to go on the offensive, slashing wildly, hurling stroke after stroke at Pyrrha. She was like a hurricane; the air seemed to howl with the swift onrushing passage of her arms; she was so fast and so strong that Pyrrha's arms jarred from taking blow after blow, Miló shuddering from the force.

But if Cinder was the hurricane, then Pyrrha was the mountain; Pyrrha was Mistral itself, unmoving, her defence holding firm against all the assaults that Cinder could make upon it. Cinder was swift, too, terribly so, but she was also deeply obvious; at no point could Pyrrha fail to spot where her attack was coming from and, in seeing, block it.

Pyrrha retreated in the face of Cinder's onslaught, just enough to open sufficient breathing room to fling Akoúo̱, sending her shield flying around Cinder in a wide arc. Cinder seemed to ignore it, continuing to hurl herself on Pyrrha in a furious flurry of slashing strokes.

Akoúo̱ began to fly back towards her, and a black outline formed around Pyrrha's left arm as she guided the shield to strike Cinder in the small of the back.

Cinder leapt before the shield could strike. Pyrrha reached out to grab her shield before it could strike her.

Cinder landed atop of Akoúo̱, balancing on one foot upon the shield as, with the other foot, she kicked Pyrrha in the face.

Pyrrha's head was thrown backwards, her jaw aching as her aura flared in pain. She leapt backwards, backflipping once, then twice, grabbing Akoúo̱ as she landed, flipping her long ponytail out of her face as she looked up into Cinder's face.

Cinder who had already formed her twin scimitars back into a bow and had an arrow nocked and pointed at her.

Pyrrha charged at her, Akoúo̱ held before her.

Cinder loosed the glass arrow. It soared through the air for Pyrrha.

Pyrrha struck it mid-flight with the edge of Akoúo̱, shattering into tiny shards of glass, shards over which she trampled as she continued to rush towards Cinder.

Cinder smirked.

Pyrrha triggered Miló's switch from spear mode into sword, and as it changed, she flung it into the air, spinning like a baton, while she gripped Akoúo̱ with both hands. As she charged, she spun on her toes, her red sash whirling around her as she turned to meet the glass arrow, reformed, that was racing towards her back. She took the arrow on her shield, knocking it aside, before she turned again, her sash wrapping itself around her waist, and with both hands, she slashed at Cinder.

Cinder's bow crumbled in her hands as with both hands she grabbed Akoúo̱ and held it fast — though if she didn't suffer some loss to her aura in the process, Pyrrha would be astonished. Remembering Cinder's ability to manipulate the glass even when it was not fashioned into weapons, Pyrrha leapt away, grasping Miló by the hilt as it fell — gently guided by a touch of Polarity — into her hands.

Cinder threw Akoúo̱ back at her, but Pyrrha caught it on her arm, fitting it neatly there.

She faced Cinder, knees bent, body crouched low, shield held before her, and sword raised.

The black glass reformed in Cinder's hands, fashioning not the bow but the twin scimitars.

You might have done better to have tried the bow again.

Cinder charged at her, arms pounding. Pyrrha ran to meet her, moonlight glinting off her gilded armour.

Cinder slashed with the sword in her right hand, but her stroke was short, far too short for the length of her blade; she had not closed the distance sufficiently. Pyrrha's mind was already on her next steps; she would switch Miló from sword to spear and take advantage of the—

The blade in Cinder's left and dissolved into shards of glass, which flowed like water through the air to join with the sword in her right, forming a two-handed sword long enough to reach across the distance and slash Pyrrha across the belly just above the midriff.

Pyrrha retreated back a step.

Cinder's smile was bright as a knife. "You're not the only one who can play that trick, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha did not reply and kept her face expressionless. I cannot match her anger; therefore, I cannot let her make me angry. The moment I match my fury against hers, I am lost.

I must be virtue, and I must be calm.

But it was a mistake to assume she only had two weapons.

Cinder looked a little disappointed by the lack of a response, a pout forming momentarily upon lips painted as black as the night in which they fought. She attacked, her greatsword swinging for Pyrrha's head in a wide arc, a powerful stroke — with the way she had drawn her sword right back, she would take Pyrrha's head off if she struck without her aura — but obvious, verging upon clumsy. As Cinder swung, Pyrrha ducked beneath the incoming blow, spinning upon her toes with the grace of a ballerina as she pirouetted behind Cinder, slashing at her back with Miló in swift precise strokes once, twice, staggering Cinder before she reversed her grip and thrust her blade into the small of Cinder's back.

Cinder was already stepping forward away from the blow, but Pyrrha's thrust struck home nevertheless, if not as powerfully as she might have wished. Cinder turned, whirling on Pyrrha with another slashing stroke. Pyrrha parried, and then she parried the next blow too. Cinder slashed at her again, and this time, Pyrrha turned the blow aside with Akoúo̱.

Half of Cinder's sword dissolved, the fragments of glass flying like a swarm of flies all around Pyrrha's shield to attack her, biting and tearing at her aura like a shoal of piranhas sensing blood in the water.

Pyrrha ignored the damage to her aura — and the pricks of pain that she could feel through it — blocking a stroke by Cinder that sought to take advantage of her distraction. She leapt back, somersaulting in mid air, as her legs carried her out of the glassy swarm, and then no sooner had she landed than she leapt again, leaping up before either the glass or Cinder could pursue her.

She let Akoúo̱ go but used polarity to hold it in mid-air, providing a platform for her to stand on.

Miló flowed from sword to rifle in her hands as Pyrrha snapped off her last two shots at Cinder, who parried them both with the greatsword that reformed in her hands.

Akoúo̱ tilted, pointing downwards towards Cinder like a mirror trying to focus moonlight down upon her. Pyrrha kept her feet anchored to the shield with polarity so that she did not fall.

Rather, she jumped, Miló flowing from rifle to spear in her hands as she hurled herself bodily, like a bolt from heaven, down on Cinder.

Cinder swung at her with her greatsword as Pyrrha approached, but Pyrrha parried the blow aside with Miló before she struck Cinder, shoulder slamming into Cinder's midriff, arms wrapping around Cinder's waist, and bore her to the ground with a crash.

Pyrrha kept her arms round Cinder as she rolled, so that she was on the ground and Cinder was above her, then rose to her feet.

Cinder flailed in Pyrrha's embrace, grabbing Pyrrha by the bare shoulders. Pyrrha could feel her shoulders heating up, but she focussed past it as she hoisted Cinder in the air, grunting somewhat at the effort, then arched her back backwards as far as spine and cuirass would allow to slam Cinder face first into the earth.

Pyrrha dumped her there, to land upon her face and belly, before she knelt on Cinder's back and wrapped her right arm round Cinder's neck and started to choke.

Cinder thrashed like a fish torn from the river, grabbing Pyrrha's forearm with her hand. Pyrrha could feel the heat upon her arm, feel it getting hotter and hotter, as though she had laid her arm upon a stove and someone had turned it on, but she did not relent. She would not allow herself to relent. She could bear this pain; her aura could bear this heat; no matter how much it hurt, her grip would not weaken.

She would outlast Cinder; she had to outlast Cinder.

The heat increased, hotter and hotter; every instinct screamed at Pyrrha to pull her arm away, but she hung on, even as the glow from Cinder's palm became so bright as to make her want to look away, even as she began to wince from the pain she hung on.

Cinder growled and snarled wordlessly, like an animal caught in a trap from which it is desperate to escape. She slammed her free hand into the ground, digging her fingers into the soil.

The earth around her hand began to glow, the yellow-gold light rippling out around it.

Pyrrha's eyes widened. Surely she wouldn't—

The earth exploded, hurling both Pyrrha and Cinder up into the air along with countless clods of earth which erupted upwards all around them. Pyrrha spun around, hurled head over heels by the blast, unable to focus as the world whirled all around her, moon and trees and red hair dancing into her vision and then out again.

She blinked rapidly, fighting to clear her head. Steady her mind, steady herself. She flung her arms out on either side of her, arms wreathed in sable blacker than the night around, and summoned Akoúo̱ to her. The shield flew to her, obedient to her command, rising up beneath her feet to provide a footing for her to stand while she held the shield suspended in the air with Polarity.

Her fall arrested, she looked for Cinder; she did not have to look very hard as Cinder rose to meet her, standing upon a platform of her own, a little disc of glass which bore her up until she, too, floated in the air, only slightly below Pyrrha.

She looked ragged, unkempt, her hair a mess, her face and red dress stained; Pyrrha guessed that she herself didn't look much better.

Just as she doubted that either of them had a vast amount of aura left.

Which gives us both reason to want this ended quickly.

Pyrrha summoned Miló to her hand, switching it fluidly into sword mode; Cinder conjured a single scimitar out of glass.

Cinder's teeth were bared in a bestial snarl.

This pass will decide, I can feel it.

"I will not lose to you, Pyrrha Nikos!" Cinder roared. "Death at your hands is not my destiny!"

"And I do not choose to fall at yours," Pyrrha whispered. "I choose not to lose, because…"

"I believe in you."

Jaune.

"No goodbyes."

Sunset.

"Come back with your shield, okay?"

Ruby.

"I envy you."

Blake.

"Win one for Mistral."

Arslan. Everyone.

"Because I have people waiting for me," Pyrrha declared. "And so my destiny goes on, for them."

They leapt at one another, swords drawn back, free hands outstretched. Cinder roared with anger; Pyrrha was as silent as the grave. Cinder rose, and Pyrrha fell.

For a moment, they seemed to hang, suspended in the air though they had left both glass and shield behind, reaching for one another, poised to strike.

Pyrrha grabbed at Cinder's outstretched wrist, pulling it, twisting it, wrenching Cinder off her precarious airborne balance. Cinder's stroke went wide; Pyrrha's struck home across Cinder's shoulder as they began to fall.

Down they fell, locked together, spinning in the air as their blades clashed, both of them slashing and hacking at one another, the red-gold and the glass blade clashing with one another, crashing together like thunderclaps.

And as they fell, the gazes of Pyrrha Nikos and Cinder Fall did not leave one another's eyes; their swords clashed upon instinct while their eyes locked as though each sought to burn away the other with the power of their gaze.

Pyrrha let go of Cinder, curling up to roll in the air and with both feet lashed out, kicking Cinder down towards the ground.

She summoned Akoúo̱ after, sending it slamming into Cinder's midriff to drive her into the earth so hard, the ground itself shattered.

So did Cinder's aura, an amber glow rippling over her body as she lay in the crater she had made within the earth. Only the slightest movement showed that she yet lived.

Pyrrha landed a few feet away, summoning Akoúo̱ onto her left arm.

I have not much more Polarity in me, Pyrrha thought. She was starting to feel a little tired already, her arms heavier than they had been.

No matter. Cinder's aura was broken. She had won.

I won. I won! She could … she could believe it, but at the same time … she had feared that she would not be equal to this challenge. She had feared to have her fears proven right. She had feared that she would end at Cinder's feet, at Cinder's mercy, looking up at her enemy as Cinder taunted one who had presumed to a greatness she did not possess.

She had feared to be nothing more than a showgirl, fit perhaps to entertain a crowd, but for serious work, Professor Ozpin's work? Useless, unworthy, unequal to the challenges that lay before them.

But she had won. She had beaten Cinder Fall. Salem's champion lay before her. Yes, she could not defeat Salem, but she could best her greatest servants, and that was as much as anyone could do.

That … would suffice.

I have worth. I have a place in all of this.

And yet, once I put an end to Cinder, there will be little 'this' for me to have a place in.

And that, itself, will be all to the good.

She began to bear down on Cinder but was immediately pulled up short by the roar of a grimm.

An ursa major advanced out of the woods on her left, crushing the trees beneath its massive feet, shoving them aside to make way for its great, bulky, armoured form; a moment later, another emerged from the right, both of them massive, elder grimm, their backs studded with massive spikes of bone as long as lances jutting out of their black, oily flesh. They growled, their paws — with claws as long as Miló's sword form emerging out of them — swaying slightly as they lumbered forwards.

Pyrrha stepped back, bringing her shield up, preparing to rush the one on the right before the two of them could—

"No!" Cinder yelled. "Emerald, enough!"

"But…" Emerald murmured. "But you'll—"

"If that is my fate," Cinder whispered. "Enough."

The ursai disappeared, vanishing from sight as though … no, because they had never been.

Cinder groaned as she rose, slowly and unsteadily to her feet. "Forgive her," she said. "Our Mistral ways seem hard and strange to outsiders."

"Indeed," Pyrrha said softly.

Cinder groaned again and winced as she picked up her glass scimitar off the ground. She straightened up, gripping the blade with both hands as the moonlight glimmered upon it.

She looked at Pyrrha, only one eye visible, the other concealed beneath her bedraggled-looking hair.

With a great shout, Cinder charged, her bright blade swinging.

Pyrrha parried easily with Miló, the two blades clashing once again, and as they clashed, Cinder's glass sword shattered into fragments. Fragments which did not reform, which did not assail Pyrrha, fragments which simply fell to earth and lay there, unmoving, harmless.

Cinder staggered backwards, looking at the broken stump of a sword in her hand. She lowered her hands to her side for a moment, then raised her arms a little out again on either side of her.

"Glory to you, Pyrrha Nikos," she murmured, a weariness in her voice.

Pyrrha said nothing as she switched Miló from sword to spear, resting the tip of the spear upon her shield as she drew back to smite Cinder on the chest.

The beowolf howled as it emerged out of the darkness of the trees, red eyes burning like coals as it leapt at Pyrrha. She half thought that this was another of Emerald's illusions, but nevertheless, Pyrrha turned on instinct, driving her spear into the beowolf's chest.

Its real chest, into which she buried Miló for a few seconds before the grimm disappeared to smoke and ash. Another beowolf charged into the clearing from behind her, but Pyrrha reversed Miló to skewer that grimm in its turn.

"What the—?" Arslan shouted, but her shout was cut off as she was distracted by the beowolf that stuck its head out of the thicket to snarl into her face. Arslan hit it so hard that the bony face of the beowolf exploded into ashes, but more of them came, beowolves and ursai pouring into the clearing.

Jaune drew his nearly reforged sword and held his shield before him.

Pyrrha glared at Cinder. Was this your plan all along?

But Cinder's eyes were wide, shaking her head a little from side to side. Her lips moved, but amidst the howling and the growling of the grimm, Pyrrha could not hear the words which fell from them.

Pyrrha charged at her. Grimm or no, plan or no, cheat or no, ambush or no, Cinder's aura was still broken; Pyrrha could still end this. She cast her spear, hurling Miló through the air towards Cinder who stood still, frozen in place, making no move to evade the spear.

A beowolf leapt through the air, taking Pyrrha's spear squarely in its chest, dying as the force of Miló hurled it backwards, turning to ashes which passed over Cinder. More grimm filled the space between them, a black tide separating Pyrrha from her enemy as the alpha beowolf, twelve feet tall and covered with plates of bleach, bone armour, protruded with sharp white spikes, loped up to Cinder and bent down to snatch her up in its jaws. Cinder twitched in pain, but other than that, she yet was still as the alpha turned and began to carry her away.

"No!" Pyrrha yelled, rage and frustration mingling in her voice as she fought her way through the grimm with Akoúo̱, using the sharp edges of her shield like a discus, cutting through heads and limbs, striking down beowolves as she sought to pursue the alpha, even as the great beowolf exited the clearing.

Emerald seemed as surprised as Cinder had looked, just as frozen, but Lightning Dust grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away after the alpha beowolf.

Pyrrha recovered Miló and, with it, carved a swift and deadly swathe through every grimm that crossed her path. An ursa major barred her path, but Pyrrha hurled herself upon it, switching Miló from spear to sword in her hand. It lashed out at her with one monstrous paw, but Pyrrha turned the blow aside with Akoúo̱, then sliced off that paw with a single swift stroke. Miló switched form sword to spear again as the ursa howled in pain, and Pyrrha twirled it in her grasp, slashing at the ursa's chest, striking at every gap or chink in its armour. Bellowing in frustration, the ursa dropped down onto all fours, lunging at her with its great jaws, but Pyrrha darted nimbly aside and — switching to sword once again — cut off its head.

She did not stay to watch it die but plunged into the forest, uncaring that she could not see the alpha beowolf, uncaring that he did not know exactly where it had gone, running through the darkness and the trees in hope that she could catch up to them and then…

And then…

And then, with the little aura she had left, confront Emerald and Lightning Dust, with their intact aura, as well as who knew how many grimm?

And then plunge into an ambush in the darkness.

I will suffer worse than Cinder's fate, if I let this make me heedless.

Pyrrha came to a stop, eyes searching the darkness for any sign that she had left it too late to remember sense and walked into an ambush already.

She saw none, and no sign of her quarry either.

"Pyrrha?" Jaune called out, from somewhere behind her. "Pyrrha?"

"I'm here!" Pyrrha shouted back. "I'm here, Jaune, ahead of you."

It did not take long for Jaune and Arslan to catch up with her, preceded by the light of their torches shining into her face.

Jaune's expression was grave. "Cinder?"

"Gone," Pyrrha said. "I lost her. I … judged it best not to risk pursuing her in the dark, with Emerald and Lightning still fresh."

"Emerald and Lightning?" Arslan repeated. "Emerald and Lightning are the … Pyrrha, what in all the rivers of the underworld was that?"

"I … don't know," Pyrrha lied, though it pained her to do so. "There is … much about the grimm that remains a mystery to us."

"Including carrying people off alive?" Arslan demanded. "Has that ever happened before?"

"We're as confused as you are," Jaune assured her.

Arslan huffed. "Do you think they'll eat her?"

"We can only hope," Pyrrha muttered, although in truth, she felt she could be better than reasonably certain that they would not, more was the pity.

Jaune reached out to put a hand on Pyrrha's shoulder. "You were amazing back there," he said. "How do you feel?"

Pyrrha raised her head ever so slightly to look up at him, a smile spreading across her lips. "I won," she declared, quietly, but with pride nonetheless. "I defeated her, alone, in clean combat beneath the auspices of victory. I won, and her escape cannot take that away from me."

And the next time our paths cross she will not escape.

XxXxX​

Author's Note: Art by Sae