"Devices should not be present at the breakfast table," Ciel murmured.
Rainbow glanced sideways at her, a bemused look upon her face. She opened up her 'device,' regardless of Ciel's disapproval, which was probably not entirely serious. Not that you could tell from the look on the Atlesian girl's face.
"Save your breath, Ciel," Neon said, placing a hand upon Ciel's shoulder. "Your attempts to bring the light of civilisation to these backwards and benighted peoples are sadly doomed to failure. Rainbow here might as well be a Vacuan."
Rainbow turned her whole head to look at her.
Neon grinned, her feline tail rising up over her shoulder to sway back and forth as though she were using it to wave at Rainbow.
"What is it?" asked Blake. "Something private, or—?"
"It's from Cadance," Rainbow said softly, looking at the message that had appeared on the screen of her scroll. "She's sent me a link, hang on." She tapped the link with the forefinger of her left hand.
Sunset was sat on the other side of the table in the dining hall, where they were all — Team SAPR, Amber, Team YRBN, Team RSPT, Team BLBL, Sun, Neptune, and special guest Neon Katt of Team FNKI — were sat down for breakfast; an array of hot and cold foods — sausages and bacon, pastries, porridge, cereals, fruits and yoghurts — sat in front of them upon the plastic trays.
Because she was on the other side of the table, she couldn't exactly make out what it was on the link that Cadance had sent to Rainbow Dash, but she could tell that it was a news website, or at least she was pretty sure it was, just as she was fairly certain that that was a picture of Jacques Schnee that she could see inverted on Rainbow's scroll.
"Oh, hey," Rainbow said. "Oh, yes! Blake, everyone, listen to this: the SDC has settled with the Mantle strikers."
"Really?" Blake asked, her voice rising enthusiastically.
Rainbow nodded. "Yeah, it's right here in the link that Cadance sent me; it's breaking news: 'Following a period of intense negotiations and arbitration by the respected huntsman and private security contractor Bran Thornmane, the Schnee Dust Company announced that it had reached an agreement with Hanlon Fifestone, unofficial leader of the Mantle-based employees of the SDC who have been on strike for blah blah … Hanlon Fifestone in turn confirmed that all strikes had been called off immediately, declaring that they had struck a square deal for the people of Mantle and for hard-working people across the Kingdom of Atlas.
"'Fifestone also praised retired Colonel Thornmane for his mediation efforts, saying that he had been open-minded, fair, and impartial throughout.'"
Rainbow grinned. "'The recent wave of strikes that have brought Mantle to a standstill along with over fifty percent of dust processing activities in Atlas was precipitated by the actions of former Atlesian special agent Blake Belladonna and Atlas Academy student Rainbow Dash, who together—'"
"Blah blah blah," Blake said, cutting her off before she could finish.
Rainbow pouted. "Aw, come on, Blake."
"We know what we did," Blake said softly, as softly as the smile that was playing across her face.
"Ah, but does everyone else know what we did?" asked Rainbow Dash.
"Yes," Neon said firmly. "Yes, we know what you did, and it was awesome, don't get me wrong, but we really don't need to hear it again. I say this with love, of course."
"I don't know what you did," Amber murmured tentatively.
"Nothing much," Blake said. "We happened to be in the right place at the right time."
"To uncover a modern slavery ring and shut it down," Rainbow added.
"Mantle is the story," Blake insisted. "Not us. Fifestone and Thornmane are the heroes, not us."
"Come on," Rainbow said. "We're a little bit heroic."
"They're not wearing Fifestone wigs on the streets of Mantle," Neon added.
"Hmm," Blake said. "He's probably glad about that."
"It's the price of celebrity, I'm afraid," Pyrrha said sympathetically. "There's very little to be done about it. Have they brought out toys of Gambol Shroud yet?"
Blake's eyebrows rose. "I … I don't think so; is that … is that a thing?"
"You can buy Miló and Akoúo̱ toys," Pyrrha said. "It wouldn't surprise me, considering the impact of this story and the fact that your fame is only likely to increase following the Vytal Festival, if there are Gambol Shrouds in toyshops by the time the year turns."
"If they're going to do it, then they'll want to get it out for Longest Night; it's when we give presents to celebrate the new beginning," Neon said. "But would they really do that?"
"Perhaps not; I don't know Atlas well enough to say," Pyrrha admitted, "but I don't think the possibility should be discounted."
"What are they like?" Ruby asked. "The toys of your weapons? Do they transform?"
"Akoúo̱ is little more than a plastic frisbee painted gold," Pyrrha explained. "For Miló … there is an expensive toy which does transform, albeit completely manually, more laboriously, and in a manner that is not entirely accurate to my weapon. There are also three cheaper toys that are simply the spear, the sword, and the rifle without any capacity to change between them."
"When you say 'not entirely accurate,'" Blake said, "what does that mean?"
"I gather there are some difficulties in replicating the means by which Miló transitions from one mode to the other," Pyrrha said, "and so, especially when it comes the rifle, there are various extraneous bits of plastic sticking out that are necessary for the sword and spear modes but had no place on the rifle. The manufacturers told me this is quite common when making toys based on shifting weapons. They call it kibble; I'm not quite sure why."
"Hmm," Blake murmured.
"Don't act like that would be a bad thing," Rainbow said.
"I didn't do this for fame," Blake said.
"No, but since you did it, there's no harm in being famous too," Rainbow replied. "Look at it this way: the more people know who you are, the more people are going to listen to you when you start talking."
"She's got a point," Neptune said. "Celebrities have influence, even when they don't have any power."
"But isn't power preferable to influence?" Blake replied.
"Yeah, but you don't have any power yet either way, so why get rid of your influence?" asked Sun.
Blake paused for a moment. "That … that's a good point, I suppose."
"I'm warning you now," Neon said, "that if you two do get toys made of your weapons, I am absolutely going to swap out the real ones for the toys at some point. I will find a way."
"That doesn't seem very nice," Amber said, quietly and warily.
"No," Neon agreed, "but it will be hilarious."
"What are the terms?" Blake asked, bringing the conversation back onto more serious ground. "What have the SDC agreed to in order to stop the strike?"
"Hmm, let me see," Rainbow murmured, scrolling downwards through the article for a second. "Right, okay: SDC Security is to be disbanded; Fifestone's union is to be officially recognised by the SDC, and they're allowed to recruit members without fear of penalty; one third of all the seats on the board of directors are to be elected by the employees; an immediate end to wage garnishing for accommodation at SDC facilities; and everyone gets one day off sick self-certified and up to seven days sick per doctor's note with no limit on the number of doctor's notes you can get."
"Pay?" Blake asked. "Working conditions?"
"Nothing about that here," Rainbow said, "but I guess that the big victory is electing board members and getting the union acknowledged; now that they've got those two things, they can fight for better pay and conditions regularly, in the boardroom and with more legal strikes if need be." She snapped up her scroll. "It seems like they've made it a lot harder for any future Calliope Fernys to come along and start doing what she did, which I guess was the main point of the exercise. Anything else they want will come later."
Blake nodded. "I suppose Fifestone didn't want to be seen as too grasping or opportunistic, addressing issues outside of Mantle's original complaints related to what we found. And you're right; it will make it a lot harder for anything like that to happen again, not least because of the oversight given to workers' representatives."
"Will there be enough huntsmen to defend the SDC facilities now that SDC Security has been disbanded?" asked Ruby. "I know that the boss turned out to be running the slave camps, but couldn't they have just reformed it instead?"
"Who would have trusted it?" asked Rainbow in reply. "Some things, you just can't come back from, and it wasn't just Calliope Ferny; she admitted herself that a lot of her guards were in on it too. Would the workers really be able to trust that Security was there to protect them, not keep them in line?"
"SDC Security had a bad reputation amongst the faunus even before this," Blake added. "When … the White Fang feared going up against Atlesian military, but they relished the opportunity for payback against SDC Security. This will be welcomed by all the faunus, and it's like you said, huntsmen can be hired to protect facilities against the grimm, or the White Fang. Or independent private security like this Thornmane person."
"Bran Thornmane," Neon said. "Former officer, like it said in Dashie's article, retired from the military and founded Thornmane's Guardians."
"Huntsmen?" asked Ruby. "Or not?"
"I'm pretty sure they're all huntsmen," Neon replied. "Thornmane stations them in little villages and places that might not be able to afford to hire a huntsman whenever they got into trouble, or where a huntsman couldn't get out to them in time. Hence the name; they're guardians of their communities."
"Sounds like a great idea," Nora said. "There are a lot of places in Anima that could do with a guardian like that. By the time some of these villages figure out they could do with a huntsman, it's already too late; the grimm or bandits are closer than any huntsman is."
"Indeed," Ren murmured, "but if these places cannot afford a huntsman in an emergency, then how do they afford the full-time protection of one of these Guardians?"
"It's, um, Ciel, help me out with the word," Neon said. "That thing where you charge less than you should for some things, and more than you need to for others, and it means that things even out, and you end up with the right amount of money."
"I am not sure there is a dedicated word for that, unless it is simply evening out costs," Ciel replied. "The point is that Thornmane's prices for certain other huntsman activities are higher to enable him to support his Guardians in poor communities."
"But they still work alone, the Guardians?" Ruby asked.
"Mainly, yeah," Neon said. "I think Thornmane sends backup if anyone needs it."
"Huh," Ruby murmured. "That sounds … that sounds like a great way of doing it, really."
"Doing what?" asked Jaune.
"Everything," Ruby replied. "Not as rigid or controlling as a military, but not everyone just working on their own either; there's a way of bringing people together when you need to."
"But there is a boss," Sunset reminded her. "I mean, this Thornmane is in charge, right?"
"But in charge of what?" Ruby responded. "I guess he's not giving orders all the time, only when he absolutely has to. I think … maybe that's the way that it ought to be done."
"I can see where you're coming from with this, but no," Yang said firmly. "I don't want to be under some other guy's instructions, even if they are rare, and I don't want to be stuck in one village for the rest of my life; I want to be able to go where I want, when I want, and be my own boss; I wouldn't want to give that up."
"Not even if it was important?" Ruby asked.
"If it was important, then sure, I'd put that to one side," Yang said. "But when it stopped being important, I'd like to pick it up again."
"Anyway," Jaune said, "that sounds like great news, about the SDC."
"Indeed," Sunset said. "You've both done very well. And it will impress your mother, no doubt, to hear about it, if she hasn't heard already by the time you see her again."
"Yes, I—" Blake stopped as Weiss and her team entered the dining hall.
Weiss didn't look at them as she led the three boys inside. She didn't look at anyone, but kept her face to the front, eyes up, moving with a gait that would have been perfect if it hadn't seemed a little stiff; she moved with the brittle dignity of someone who was trying hard to ignore the opinions of others.
She didn't look at any of those sat with Sunset around the table. She didn't look at anyone in the dining hall, despite — or more likely because — of the fact that a number of people were looking at her, faunus and others.
Sunset couldn't tell what they were all thinking, but even without using her semblance, she could take a guess.
"Weiss!" Blake called, getting to her feet.
Weiss stopped, turning her head; her long ponytail flapped around her a little as she looked at Blake. "Yes?" she asked quietly.
Blake smiled at her. "There's room here, if you'd like to sit with us."
Weiss hesitated for a moment. Her teammates also paused, waiting to see what she would do; none of them offered her any advice, or even their own opinions on the matter. They kept quiet and looked at her, and looked at the empty spaces next to RSPT on the end of the table, and they waited.
"Thank you," Weiss said, "but I wouldn't want to impose."
"It's no imposition," Blake said. "I, we, would welcome your company. Please."
Weiss stared at her for a moment, and then a moment more. She inclined her head in gratitude. "Well, in that case, how can I refuse?"
Her wedge-heeled boots tapped against the floor as she made her way towards the first empty space, on the left flank of Team RSPT.
She stopped as she noticed Amber, sitting between Pyrrha and Dove.
"Hello," she said. "I don't think we've met."
"No," Amber said. "No, I don't think we have. My name is Amber Briarrose, and I … I'm staying with Team Sapphire for a while."
"Amber is Professor Ozpin's niece," Pyrrha explained. "Staying at Beacon while other arrangements are made."
"I … see," Weiss said quietly, not sounding as if she saw at all, but evidently deciding that it wasn't her place to push the point. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Amber; I'm Weiss Schnee, and these are my teammates, Flash Sentry, Cardin Winchester, and Russel Thrush."
"Good to meet you," said Flash, with a slight bow of his head.
"Indeed," Cardin added.
"Hey," Russel said. "I didn't know Professor Ozpin had a niece."
"Not too surprising; he's our headmaster, not our friend," Weiss said as she sat down next to the Rosepetals, "and some men wish to keep their family circumstances private." She glanced at Amber. "That being the case, it's best not to pry into those circumstances."
Perhaps it was the presence of Amber nearby, and the marks on her face that were nearly completely concealed beneath expertly applied makeup, but Sunset couldn't help but notice the scar on Weiss' face, the mark that ran from her temple down — via her eye, which she was lucky to still have — to her cheek. Amber's treatment of her injuries begged the question that Sunset had not previously considered of why Weiss didn't try to hide her own injury, which she surely could have done.
People were different, of course, and it was entirely Weiss' choice, but still … Sunset found herself curious. Clearly, it was not something of which she felt ashamed, or even regarded with any distaste.
She didn't know how Weiss had gotten the scar; they weren't close enough for Sunset to ask.
And, as Weiss had said, it was best not to pry into the circumstances of those who wished to keep such things private.
"How are you holding up?" Blake asked.
Weiss looked at her. "I'm sure there are some people around this very table who find your being solicitous of me to be very odd indeed."
Blake glanced down the table. "If that is true, then they don't know me as well as they think."
"Civis Atlarum Sum," Rainbow said quietly. "Like I told you when we first arrived, if you need any assistance, then … you can call on us, or any Atlas students to assist you."
Weiss snorted. "A very generous offer, but I think that some of the Atlas students are amongst those who can't see beyond my last name."
Blake winced. "Has … anything … happened?"
"It hasn't helped our reputation as the racist team, that's for sure," Russel muttered.
"Not with anyone with any sense," Flash said. "No one who thinks seriously about this thinks that Weiss could be involved with this; her father isn't even involved."
"But the company that bears my name is," Weiss declared. "I don't begrudge people their shock, and I don't begrudge them their reactions to this news either; it … is the sort of news people should have strong reactions about."
"That doesn't excuse…" Sunset began, trailing off since as yet Weiss had given them no indications of what those 'reactions' have amounted to. "Flash, has anything happened? Has anyone … graffitied your door?"
"You had to bring that up," Cardin muttered.
Sunset winced. "Sorry, it was just an example that came to mind."
"No," Flash said. "No, there's been nothing like that. It's just—"
"Staring," Russel said. "And whispering. I feel like my grandad when he started to get on, thinking that everyone was talking about him behind his back, plotting against him: the bartender, the shopkeeper. Only, he was going round the bend; I'm certain they really are talking about us."
"What did your grandpa do about it?" asked Yang.
"He picked fights and got himself barred from everywhere," Russel replied. "I'd try picking fights, but some of these people are bigger than me."
"Plus, you don't want to get thrown out," Jaune added.
"Well, yeah, that too, I suppose," Russel said.
"It will pass," Weiss said.
"Will it?" asked Russel.
"Yes!" Weiss said sharply. "I will not be defined by my father's actions, and I certainly will not be defined by his incompetence! At the risk of sounding defensive, I would remind you all that my father knew nothing of what was going on under Ms. Ferny's direction. That … does not make him the great businessman that he was believed to be, including by myself, but it does not make him a monster, and it certainly does not make me one.
"I am the granddaughter of a hero as well as the daughter of a … flawed man," Weiss went on, "and I will not allow my name to be defined for me by my father's mistakes or by the judgement of the wider world on those mistakes. I will define this name myself, by an accounting of my deeds, as we all will define our names and the name of Team Wisteria. Starting at the Vytal Festival." She swept her gaze imperiously up the table. "I hope that none of you feel so much sympathy for me, for us, that you think of going easy on us, should our paths cross."
Sunset snorted. "No chance of that."
"Good," Weiss said. "I'm delighted to hear it. Just as I was delighted to hear that this strike in Mantle has been settled to the benefit of Mantle."
"'Delighted'?" asked Neon. "Really?"
"It is delightful news, isn't it?" asked Penny.
"It's delightful news for Mantle," Neon replied. "Not for her family."
"Neon," Ciel said gently.
"I am more than just my name; I have opinions beyond what is for the good of the SDC's bottom line," Weiss said, a touch of frost covering her voice. "I can recognise the justice of Mantle's cause in response to how my father's company has behaved."
"Then you've heard?" Blake asked.
"That the strike has been settled? Yes, and on what terms," Weiss replied. "I have to say I feel as though this Fifestone fellow has been quite generous, not wringing any increases in pay or the like out of my father."
"I think he wants to keep focussed on the issues that led to the strike in the first place, so as to not risk sympathy," Rainbow said.
"You may be correct," Weiss murmured, "but whether Fifestone is correct … he may have thrown away his best chance."
"What makes you say that?" asked Ciel. "There will be other chances to negotiate better pay, better conditions, no?"
"In theory," Weiss agreed. "But…"
"You can't stop now; you've got us hanging off your every word," Sunset said.
One corner of Weiss' mouth twitched upwards. "But my father is a proud man," she said. "I fear that he will take this as a defeat and bear malice for it."
"Really?" asked Penny. "Even though it wasn't his fault in the first place?"
"He has been blamed," Weiss reminded her, "and his reputation damaged. I'm afraid…"
"Afraid of what?" asked Blake quietly.
"That … he will be stubborn in future," Weiss said. "Even moreso than he was before."
She shook her head, her ponytail shaking from side to side. "In any case, that is something for the future, something that may never happen, something that certainly shouldn't detract from what Mantle has accomplished and what the two of you began."
"See?" Rainbow said. "Weiss thinks we're heroes."
"As I was saying," Sunset said, "this will be some good news to share with your mother when you see her next."
"Whose mother?" asked Weiss.
"My mother," Blake said. "She has come from Menagerie to visit me; she arrived last night."
"Is that far away?" asked Amber.
"Quite far, yes," Blake replied. "Farther than Mistral, and farther from here than Atlas too, I think, although in a different direction."
"I see," Amber said softly. "She must love you, to come all this way."
Blake's face reddened a little. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, she does love me, very much. She always did." She looked away, her head bowing just a little.
"Did … did I say something wrong?" asked Amber. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."
"It's not your fault," Blake assured her. "You weren't to know. My mother and I, my parents and I … I didn't appreciate them, and we left things … badly. When Mom turned up last night, it was a chance to start making things a little better."
"I'm glad to hear it," Sunset said. Now if only Amber would do the same with Professor Ozpin. Once you forgive those who raised you for the mistakes they made and accept that they were just trying their best, then … then you find that they have so much more love to give you.
I really believe that Amber and Professor Ozpin would both benefit if she could forgive him; it would help him a lot, but it would help her too if she could go to him for advice, for mentoring, for love.
I just don't know how to make her see that.
Perhaps Princess Celestia herself will know. Although she couldn't make me forgive her, I had to come to that on my own.
Nevertheless, she may have some wisdom from which I may benefit.
Perhaps Professor Ozpin will have to make the first move.
I will see what she has to say.
"What's she like?" Ruby asked. "Your mom, I mean."
"She's sharp as a tack," Sun answered for her. "Really smart."
"Really smart or smarter than you?" asked Neptune.
"Dude, when did you get replaced by Scarlet?"
"Oh, Scarlet would have much, much worse to say than that," Neptune assured him.
"Is your mom coming up to see you again today?" asked Yang.
"Yes," Blake said. "She is."
"I'm going to fly down and pick her up after I'm done with breakfast," Rainbow added.
Yang frowned. "Can't she just get a skybus up here? Or is this respect for Blake's mom?"
"It's partly that, and partly all of this anti-faunus sentiment in Vale," Rainbow replied. "I don't want Blake's mom to get mugged by some jackass on the way to the skydock, or harassed on the bus."
"I guess that's a fair point," Yang conceded. "So, I take it that means you won't be joining us for that sparring session then, huh?"
"No, I'll be there," Blake answered. "I wouldn't want to put any of you out."
Yang stared at her. So, too, did Nora and — more discreetly — Ren.
Blake blinked. "What?"
"Your mom is here," Yang said.
"Yes."
"Your mom who you haven't seen in forever, right?"
"Six years," Blake answered. "So?"
"So what are you doing sparring with us instead of spending time with your mom?" Yang demanded.
"I'm keeping my skills in touch and preparing for the Vytal Festival," Blake said. "Meanwhile, Mom can watch me spar; we'll have all the time when we're not sparring and afterwards. It's not like I don't have plans." She paused. "Sun, Sunset, Twilight, Ciel, are you okay to come to dinner with Rainbow, Trixie, Starlight, and me tonight? Mom wants to get to know you all."
"Yeah, sure," Twilight said. "That sounds great."
"Count me in too," Sun added.
"Where are you having dinner?" asked Neptune warily.
"Probably just the restaurant at Mom's hotel; she didn't say," Blake replied. "Why?"
"Because Sun cannot show up dressed like that," Neptune declared. "Do you still have your Haven uniform, or did you lose it?"
"You know I'm not a uniform kind of guy."
"You lost it, didn't you?"
"Not on purpose," Sun said. "I put in the washing machine and it wasn't there when I checked on it. The next day."
Neptune rolled his eyes. "Whatever, dude, you can't go to dinner with your girlfriend's mom in that shirt and those pants."
"All the Atlesians are gonna be there; it's not that big a deal."
"Yes," Neptune said. "All the Atlesians are going to be there, so what's it going to look like to Blake's mom when you're the only one who hasn't dressed up?"
Sun's eyes widened. "Oh, wow, you're right; what do I do?"
"You don't need to—" Blake began.
"Just come with me," Neptune said, taking Sun by the arm and drawing him to his feet, "and let a cool guy with fashion sense take care of everything."
"I really don't think that—" Blake tried to protest, but it was too late, as Neptune was already leading Sun away out of the dining room.
Blake watched after that, before turning her attention to Team RSPT. "Are you really going to dress up?"
"I was going to wear dress whites, yeah," Rainbow said.
"It's only my mom," Blake pointed out.
"She's the Chieftainess of Menagerie," Twilight replied. "And your mom."
"Not to interrupt, but what was this about a sparring session?" asked Weiss.
"We're having a quick few rounds to get ready for Last Shot," Yang explained. "Team Iron, Team Sapphire, Team Rosepetal are going to keep their hand in as well."
"Would you like to join us?" asked Blake.
Weiss quickly shared a glance with her teammates, who all nodded.
"Yes," she said. "Yes, thank you; that would be great."
XxXxX
"Are you sure you're going to be okay here?" asked Sunset.
The smile was a little tight upon Amber's face, but it was a smile nevertheless, however small it was. "I'll be fine, Sunset," she said as she sat down next on one of the benches that sat on the lower level of the amphitheatre, beneath and around the stage.
"Okay," Sunset said. "It's just I know you said that you weren't really very interested in tournament-style fighting." It was her turn to smile. "Although, who knows, maybe we'll be able to light a fire in you with our displays of superlative skill."
"Maybe," Amber conceded. "But I doubt it." She paused. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if all your battles could be for show and play, not life and death against monsters or murderers?"
"Show and play make them all seem very facile," Sunset remarked, "but, as to your point … yes, that would be very grand … save that I am not sure if we were all nought but Mistralian gladiators whether we would have some of us here. There are those who are driven by intent too serious who would not stoop to entertain a crowd upon a regular basis."
"No, I suppose not; you're all so very gallant and selfless," Amber murmured. "But then, if there were no enemy, no grimm, no … nothing, then … then those people could find something safe to do, something they loved."
"Yes," Sunset agreed. "Yes, I suppose they could." She knelt down in front of Amber, exchanging looking up down upon her for looking up at her. "And what would you do, in this world without monsters or murderers?" Or magic, though I cannot speak of it.
Amber's smile brightened, not least because she opened her mouth to show her teeth. "I would sing," she said. "In that great concert hall you all showed me. Or … or perhaps not. Perhaps … I don't know, the city is wonderful, but I don't know if I'd like to live there all the time. A little cottage, with Dove, that might suit me better."
Sunset chuckled. "A patch of land to call your own, with some woods, and a stream running by, and a couple of servants to do all of the hard work for you perhaps. The pastoral idyll sought throughout the ages."
"I wouldn't need people to do all the work for me," Amber said. "I could learn how to farm; I enjoy growing things."
"You might not once it became work, life and death," Sunset replied.
"Perhaps," Amber admitted. "Perhaps I could make things, and sell them instead."
"Or become a famous singer for a little bit, make your money and then retire to that cottage with no need to worry about how you'd support yourself," Sunset suggested.
"Perhaps," Amber murmured. She sighed. "But that … that isn't the world that we live in, is it?"
"No," Sunset conceded. "No, it's not."
"What are you talking about?" asked Dove as he ambled over, holding a lime green can of some sort of pop that he must have gotten from the vending machines outside. He handed it to Amber.
"Thank you," she said. "Sunset and I were just talking about what we'd do, in a world where … with none of … none of this. No need for huntsmen or huntresses, no … none of this."
Dove sat down beside her, which required Sunset to scoot a little bit to make room for him. "That … I don't know, really. I suppose I would have had to become a tanner like my mother, in that case."
"Or moved to the big city to seek your fortune," Sunset said.
"I'm not sure that I have the ambition for that," Dove replied. "It really took Amber to get me out of the village."
"There's nothing you want?" Sunset asked. "If you could be anything you wanted, anything at all, what would it be?"
Dove was silent for a moment, and then a moment more. He glanced at Amber, and then up at the darkened ceiling of the amphitheatre which covered all their heads. "A gamekeeper," he said.
Sunset's eyebrows rose. "'A gamekeeper'?"
Dove nodded. "Sometimes protecting the animals, other times hunting them, I think that might suit me."
"Huh," Sunset said. "Not an answer I was expecting, but okay." Maybe Professor Ozpin can arrange for you to hide out on some grand country estate? "Anyway, I've got to go now, but the stage isn't far away, and there'll always be someone not on stage. If it's not us, it will be the Rosepetals, or Blake at the very least. You good?"
Amber reached out for Dove, taking one of his hands. "Yes. I'm very well, thank you."
"Awesome," Sunset said. "Try and enjoy it, okay?"
So saying, she turned away from Amber and Dove and wandered over to join Yang and Weiss where they stood close by the stage.
"Is she okay?" Yang asked.
"Yeah, she's fine."
"You're very solicitous of her," Weiss observed.
"I'm naturally a very kind person," Sunset said, in a tone as dry as dust. "But seriously, she … Amber's been through a lot."
"Mmm, I suppose she must have," Weiss murmured. "At least she has an uncle who is well placed and has the means to assist her." She glanced past Sunset. "Dove Bronzewing also seems quite familiar with her."
"They're old friends," Sunset explained. "They used to live nearby one another."
"'Old friends'?" Weiss repeated.
Sunset smirked. "It's true love."
Weiss raised her scarred eyebrow. "If you believe in that sort of thing."
"I couldn't share a room with Jaune and Pyrrha and not believe in that sort of thing," Sunset replied.
Weiss snorted. "Well, that is as may be, I suppose. Either they'll make it work, or they won't; it's no concern of mine."
Sunset was left uncertain whether she was talking about Amber and Dove, or Jaune and Pyrrha, or both of them.
Weiss went on, "I suppose we're going to wait for Rainbow and Blake to return with … Blake's mother before we begin?"
"Are you in a rush?"
"Not particularly," Weiss replied. "But I would rather be up on stage when they arrive."
"You don't want to meet Blake's mother," Sunset guessed.
"She's hardly likely to look kindly upon a Schnee," Weiss said. "I'd rather remove the potential for frostiness."
"Well, we don't have to wait," said Yang. "Yeah, we can't do four on fours until they get back, but we could do some single sparring? Or doubles? Weiss and Flash against Pyrrha and Jaune?"
Weiss put one hand upon the hilt of her rapier. "I certainly wouldn't object to that."
"We're here," Rainbow declared, as she and Blake pushed open the doors and walked through into the amphitheatre, accompanied by a woman who looked like a slightly older — but still very well preserved; certainly you could not say that Lady Belladonna had grown old before her time — Blake, albeit with much shorter hair, that being the main difference between the two of them, apart from their clothes.
"Oh, hey," Yang said, turning to face them. "You're here. We were just about to start without you."
"Everyone," Blake said, "for those of you who don't know, this is my Mom, Kali Belladonna. Mom, this is … everyone." She began to point out the various people. "You've met a lot of them already, but that's Dove Bronzewing, Amber Briarrose, Lyra Heartstrings, Bonnie Bonaventure, Ruby Rose, Jaune Arc, Pyrrha Nikos, Sunset Shimmer, Russel Thrush, Cardin Winchester, Flash Sentry, and…" Her finger hesitated over Weiss, who was both not looking at Blake or her mother — her gaze was going past Sunset's human ears and somewhere into the middle distance — but also looked as though she were trying to turn herself invisible by the act of remaining completely still and motionless.
"And Weiss Schnee," Blake said. "A good friend of mine in recent weeks."
No one said anything. The amphitheatre was silent, save for the soft sounds of Lady Belladonna's footsteps upon the black floor as she walked forwards. Yang and Sunset made way for her, retreating a few paces so that they did not crowd her in as she walked, without a word, towards Weiss.
Weiss still did not turn her head; rather, her icy blue eyes darted in Lady Belladonna's direction, like a hunted animal who fears that its stillness stratagem has not worked to fool the predator.
"Weiss Schnee," Lady Belladonna said. Her tone brightened. "Well, any friend of Blake's is a friend of mine. It's wonderful to meet you, Weiss."
Weiss' mouth opened, forming a square or oblong of surprise as she could not resist looking at Blake's mother. "I … that's very kind of you, ma'am."
"Is everyone going to call me 'ma'am'? It makes me feel very old," Lady Belladonna asked. "And what, exactly, is so very kind about it? After all, you are Blake's friend, aren't you?"
"Yes, but…" Weiss clasped her hands together behind her back. "Not only that, ma'am."
"And I am not only Blake's mother," Lady Belladonna said. "But that is what I'd expect you to see when you look at me. You are more than Blake's friend, as we are all more than just one thing, but as I'm Blake's mother, I'm afraid you'll have to put up with me seeing you as one of her friends."
Weiss stared at her, before she bowed her head. "I understand. Thank you, ma'am."
"Thank me for what?" asked Lady Belladonna. She turned away, "Blake, is Weiss coming to dinner with us tonight?"
"Um…" Blake shrugged. "Weiss, are you doing anything tonight?"
"Having dinner with you and your mother, it seems," Weiss replied.
"Splendid!" Lady Belladonna cried. "Now, who else did you say you were going to invite?"
"Rainbow, Twilight," Blake said. "Sun—"
"I don't see Sun here," Lady Belladonna remarked.
"He's … being helped to get ready," Blake murmured. "I'm afraid … Sun's team doesn't like him enough to join him for a sparring session, and besides, the Haven students already had their qualification round. Anyway, you'll see him tonight if not sooner, and then there's Starlight and Trixie — they're not here either — and Sunset."
Sunset bowed, as she had done to Lady Nikos, spreading her arms out on either side of her. "An honour to meet you, my lady."
"'My lady'? I think I might prefer 'ma'am,'" Lady Belladonna said.
Sunset smiled. "In that case, ma'am, I apologise."
The corner of Lady Belladonna's mouth twitched upwards. "Sunset Shimmer," she repeated. "Jaune Arc, Pyrrha Nikos, Ruby Rose, you must be Team Sapphire, then."
Pyrrha bowed her head. "We have that honour, ma'am."
"Thank you," Lady Belladonna said, "for taking Blake in during the unpleasant business that happened to her last semester. I'm very grateful for all the support that she received from her friends. I'm glad that she seems to be surrounded by such good people."
"We've been very fortunate to have Blake's support," Sunset said. "Our efforts would have been … we've been lucky."
"That wasn't how you felt at first," Blake observed.
"That sounds like a fascinating discussion to have tonight," Lady Belladonna said amusedly. "But for now, I won't keep you from your sparring any longer." She walked to an empty seat. "I shall just sit, and watch, and cheer Blake on."
"Oh, you'll get something to cheer all right, ma'am, guarantee it," Yang declared. "So, now that we're all here, how about some four on fours?"
"Actually—" Weiss began.
"We'll take you on," Sunset declared. "Team Sapphire versus Team Iron, rematch from the start of the year."
"But I—" Weiss protested.
"Oho, yeah!" Yang cried. "Come on, guys, let's do this!"
Sunset turned to her teammates. "I take it no one has any objections."
Jaune shook his head. Pyrrha said, "This is why we're here, after all."
The four of them climbed up onto the stage, standing on the left hand side of it, while Team YRBN assembled on the right.
Sunset looked at them for a moment. Blake hadn't been a part of their team the last time; that would make this a little bit harder.
Still, Sunset was quietly confident that they would come out on top.
Sunset got out her scroll, Yang doing likewise, and the press of a button later, the aura levels of all four members of Team SAPR appeared on the wall on the left, and all the aura levels of Team YRBN appeared on the right.
At present, all the students were in the green, a hundred percent.
As the lights went down, shrouding the amphitheatre in darkness, hiding the spectators from view, Yang called out, "Hey, Weiss, do you mind refereeing for us?"
Weiss sighed. "Very well. I'll give you some time to discuss your strategies."
As Team YRBN went into a huddle, Sunset turned away from them and beckoned her teammates to join her. They drew in, huddling close, so that they could speak in hushed whispers without being overheard.
"Now, I hate to say this," Sunset said, "but man for man, woman for woman, I think they're mostly better than most of us, but I think we can win this if we break them down and take them out piece by piece. Jaune, I need you to pin Yang down; you don't have to beat her, just don't let her get away from you, take the hits for a little bit. Pyrrha, can you take Nora and Blake, at least for a little bit?"
Pyrrha nodded. "I believe so." She smiled. "Blake's semblance will be a novel challenge."
"Watch out for her use of dust," Sunset warned her. "Ruby, stay back and provide fire support to Jaune and Pyrrha as you think they need it."
"What about you?" asked Ruby.
"I'm going to take out Ren; he's the weak link," Sunset said. "Then I'll engage Blake long enough for Pyrrha to finish off Nora; Blake will probably take me out, but by that point, it will be three against two. When that happens, Ruby, switch fire support completely to Jaune and let Pyrrha deal with Blake, and then finally go for Yang to claim the win."
"And is Team Iron supposed to remain quiescent while this is going on?" asked Pyrrha. "Blake's semblance makes her uniquely capable of breaking contact."
"If that happens, then follow Blake," Sunset told her, "and leave Nora to me."
"I will try and deal with them both before you are done with Ren," Pyrrha murmured.
Sunset grinned. "That would be great, but not completely necessary. Are we all clear?"
Jaune and Ruby both nodded their assent.
"Okay then, let's do this," Sunset said, and whirled around to face their opponents.
Their opponents faced them too. Yang's hands were clenched into fists, down by her sides at present but with her elbows bent so that she could rapidly bring them up. Nora's feet were widely spaced apart, her weapon in its hammer form gripped tightly. Ren's Stormflowers dropped out of his sleeves and into his waiting hands, his expression as inscrutable as ever. Blake was reaching over her shoulder, one hand upon the hilt of Gambol Shroud.
"Are both teams ready?" asked Weiss, her voice emerging from out of the darkness.
Sunset's left hand glowed a faint green as she gathered her magic. "Ready."
"Ready," Yang said.
"Go get 'em, Blake!" cried Lady Belladonna.
"Go Team Sapphire!" yelled Penny.
"Begin!" snapped Weiss.
Sunset raised her hand and fired a bolt of magic at Nora; she hoped that Ren would take the hit for her, but instead, it was Blake who dived in front of Nora, only to transform in the instant before the magical blast struck into a stone statue, an earth dust clone which took the hit, shattering into pieces but absorbing all of the magic in the process.
Blake was already in the air, hanging suspended for a moment before she descended towards Pyrrha like a hawk descending upon the hapless field mouse.
Ruby fired upwards, Crescent Rose barking. In the air as she was, Blake couldn't dodge the shot, so she had to burn another clone on it — an ordinary clone, no earth or ice or fire dust involved — to take the hit, while she appeared back on the stage, the advantage of her descent lost.
She charged at Pyrrha, and Nora and Yang were doing likewise, rushing across the stage towards Pyrrha, doubtless to overwhelm her and thus give themselves the leisure to finish off the remainder of Team SAPR.
Ren alone hung back. Sunset raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder and shot at him, her rifle spitting, but he leapt out of the way, rolling along the stage and back onto his feet, the bullet missing him by yards.
Ruby fired twice more at Blake, who evaded one shot and used a clone to take the other for her.
The three YRBN huntresses closed in on Pyrrha from three sides, like a pack of hounds upon the deer. For her part, Pyrrha bore herself more like the majestic stag than like a hunted doe, head up, back straight, her armour glimmering even in the little light that illuminated the stage. Her weapons were in her hands, but her hands were by her sides, only late did she raise her Akoúo̱ up to protect her or bring Miló up in sword mode to strike above her shield.
Yang was on the right of YRBN's approach, and Jaune rushed towards her, shield up, reforged sword held aloft.
Ren moved to intercept him.
So that's your plan, Yang.
Sunset teleported, appearing right above Ren and bringing the butt of Sol Invictus — gripped by the barrel in both of Sunset's hands — down upon his head.
There was a crack as the blow struck home, driving Ren face first onto the floor of the stage.
Sunset landed, standing over him. She raised her gun, intending to empty it into him while he was lying there. Ren rolled aside, and as he rolled, he grabbed Sunset by the ankle, yanking her off her feet so that she landed on her backside with a thump that she felt on her tailbone despite her aura.
Ren kept on rolling, rolling onto his knees, Stormflowers up.
Sunset's hand glowed with telekinesis as she flung Sol Invictus at him like a javelin, guiding it bayonet-first into his chest hard enough to toss him backwards and onto his back.
Sunset leapt up, drawing Soteria across her back, but holding it in the grip of telekinesis, not her hands, which were both aglow by now with magic.
Ren, too, leapt upright, fire spraying from the muzzles of his Stormflowers as he blazed away at Sunset.
Sunset didn't conjure a shield — she would have had to let go of either Sol Invictus or Soteria if she had — rather, she ran across the stage, ducking, feeling at least some of the bullets hit her but hoping that not too many did as she flung both of her weapons telekinetically at Ren. She slashed at him with Soteria. He parried with the blades on his pistols, but in so doing, he left himself open to Sol Invictus lunging at his back. He twisted out of the way, his body contorting, but with telekinesis, Sunset could, somewhat ironically, redirect the movement of her weapons more easily than if she were wielding them in her hands, so she was able to turn the rifle and hit him in the side with the barrel.
"Sunset, behind!" Ruby cried.
Sunset spun around. Behind her, Jaune had just taken a couple of hits from Yang straight to the chest that had knocked him on his back and across the stage; Akoúo̱ was lodged in one of Blake's ice clones, and Pyrrha was locked in a furious battle with Blake, Miló in spear mode whirling in her grasp as Blake assailed her with sword and cleaver both; between Blake's semblance and Pyrrha's skill, neither was able to land a blow upon the other.
Of more immediate importance to Sunset, however, was the way that Nora was coming to Ren's aid, hammer drawn back for a swing.
Ruby fired once more, shooting Nora in the back, staggering her mid-charge. Sunset retreated, conjuring a shield all around her to protect her from Nora in front and Ren behind.
Okay, I can distract the both of you, so long as Pyrrha can close the deal with Blake.
As Sunset thought this, Pyrrha lunged at Blake, spear drawn back for a thrust. Blake disappeared, the clone she left behind dissipating into shadow as Pyrrha charged through it, her red hair flying out behind her like a burning banner, rushing straight for the ice clone that Blake had left behind as part of an earlier evasion. Pyrrha's brow was furrowed beneath her circlet, her jaw set, her expression firm as she ploughed into the ice statue shoulder first, shattering it beneath her impact, recovering her shield from the ruins as it fell to the ground.
Blake tried to catch her but was slowed by the need to evade fire from Ruby as Pyrrha charged towards Nora.
"Nora!" Blake yelled.
Nora barely had time to turn her head before Pyrrha threw Akoúo̱ at her, striking her on the back and partly on the side of her head, jolting her forwards with staggered steps.
Pyrrha did not recover the shield as she reached Nora; rather, she wrapped her free arm around the discomfited girl's neck and hauled her backwards, wrenching her over Pyrrha's head as Pyrrha's own back contorted rearwards at a sharp angle, ploughing Nora headfirst into the floor of the stage which shattered beneath the impact.
Pyrrha leapt up, away from Nora, recovering Akoúo̱ and throwing it in moments to deflect the hook that Blake flung towards her legs, transforming Miló from spear into rifle to snap off two shots at Yang.
Miló transformed once more from rifle into sword as Pyrrha landed back in the midst of her foes.
Sunset dropped her shield as the pitter patter of running feet alerted her to the fact that Ren was making a run at her.
He slashed at her with the blades on the ends of his Stormflowers. Sunset caught the blow on her arm, taking the damage to her aura before she activated the lightning dust infused into her vambraces.
The lightning erupted from out of her jacket sleeve, snapping and crackling, snarling like some feral beast as it leapt towards Ren, rippling up his weapons and across his body, tearing at his aura. Ren gasped in pain, his body quivering.
Sunset hit him with a magical blast, point blank range, straight to the chest, sending him flying backwards and off the stage.
"Lie Ren is eliminated by ring out," Weiss declared, her voice ringing out of the darkness.
Unfortunately, a cry from Jaune alerted Sunset to the fact that Yang had lost patience with him. In the dim light of the arena, Yang's flames burned bright, her hair as pale as sunlight even before it was covered with a layer of flames, flames that covered her body too, as though she had covered herself in fire dust and ignited it. Thus all aflame, she pounded Jaune with her fists, wrenching his shield out of his grasp before hitting him once, twice, three times, the blows striking him in the gut, Ember Celica exploding with fire each time as Jaune was driven backwards towards the edge of the stage.
Jaune swung at her with Crocea Mors, the blade glowing as Jaune strengthened sword and sword-arm with his aura for a mighty swing.
Yang caught the blow one-handed, fingers closing around the sword as she wrenched it out of Jaune's grip and tossed it aside.
Pyrrha tried to go to Jaune's aid, but this time, Blake did not use a clone, but physically barred Pyrrha's way; she paid for it, her aura dropping as Pyrrha slashed at her with Miló, struck at her with Akoúo̱'s edge, but she delayed Pyrrha more than a dissipating clone would have.
Sunset fired a blast of magic, striking Yang squarely on the back.
Yang grabbed Jaune by the scruff of his hoodie and with one hand — and a wild shout — turned and threw him at Sunset.
Sunset caught a glimpse of Yang's eyes turned bright crimson before her view was obstructed by Jaune flying towards her, arms flailing.
Sunset caught him, just about, with the downside that she was knocked on her poor tailbone again as they landed in a heap together.
And Yang was bearing down upon the pair of them, eyes aglow, wreathed in flame.
There was a sound like a whimper out of the darkness beyond the stage.
"Amber!" Dove cried. "Amber, wait!"
XxXxX
It was the fire that had done it.
Amber hadn't enjoyed watching them fight, up there on the stage. She hadn't enjoyed watching their faces twisted with determination; she hadn't enjoyed watching the bullets fly, watching the weapons swung with vicious abandon; she hadn't liked watching the levels of their aura drop downwards. She hadn't liked any of it, not one bit.
But it was the fire that had done it. She couldn't stand the sight of the flames, the horrid flames that sprung up all over Yang. She couldn't stand the way she burned so brightly. Watching her burn, watching her fire, watching her eyes turn red, so bright and so cruel, watching her attack Jaune so viciously, then turn on Sunset too, it … it was too much.
As the flames rose up, all Amber could think of was Cinder, Cinder of the flames and the cruel eyes, Cinder standing over her while her allies held Amber still, looking at her with a tiger's lack of pity.
And the flames, the flames that had enveloped her, the flames that she had ignited, the flames that had erupted all around Amber to burn away her aura and leave her vulnerable.
She could not bear the flames. In Yang's face, she saw nought but Cinder.
She could not bear it, she would not endure it, she could not stay. It had been hard enough before, but this? No, no, she had to get out of there; she could not stay, not for one second more.
And so she ran, fleeing from the amphitheatre, bursting out into the sunlight, heedless of the cries of Dove and the others, she ran and ran, and she kept running as her sides stitched up, as her legs ached, as the pain of cramped muscles flared up everywhere protesting this harsh usage.
But she ran all the same because she could not bear to stay.
Not for one moment more.
She ran from the amphitheatre, she ran from the school, she ran through the courtyard, passed the statue of the huntsman and the snarling beowolf, she ran and ran, ignoring the hue and cry that had been raised for her, ignoring the voices calling out her name, she ran and ran until she reached the farm, the isolated and out of the way farm, the halfway secret place that Ruby knew, the place where they had spent last night, quiet and isolated.
There she ran, and there she fell, down on the ground, her body wracked with trembling, her muscles aching, her lungs straining. There she fell, on the ground, not sitting on the bench but with her back leaning against it.
There was no fire here, there was no Yang, no Cinder, nothing but chickens and that lazy goat, but still … still, she could see the flames, still, she could see Cinder and Yang, the two of them mingling together so that Cinder's eyes were red as she stood over Amber, while Yang enveloped Jaune in flames instead of herself.
She did not want to be here. Dove was here, and Dove was wonderful, Team SAPR were wonderful too, Sunset and Pyrrha, Jaune and Ruby too, although she knew them less well, and she was fond of Lyra and Bon Bon also, and Ciel … they were good people here, kind hearts and brave, and in any other place, she would cherish their company and their friendship, but this place … she did not want to be here. She didn't want to go into hiding, she didn't want Ozpin to stuff her away into a dark hole where she could not escape, but she didn't want to be here either, with these warriors, with these weapons, with these horrible things that…
How could any of them stand it? Pyrrha, Sunset, Ciel, Blake, any of them. How could they be here? Didn't they know that they were all going to die? That there was no victory? Ozpin would kill them all, and she would be hunted, and Dove too, and … and there was nothing that she could do about it. It was her fate. It had been chosen for her, it was set in stone now, the Maiden powers were a prison she could not leave behind.
It was something none of these brave friends could protect her from.
Pyrrha had promised to protect her, by her life or her death. But Pyrrha's death would not protect her. Pyrrha couldn't keep her safe, nor Sunset, nor any of the rest of them.
It was all hopeless, and the worst … she had got Dove involved in this too.
If I was a good, kind girl, I would send him away.
But I'm not good, and I'm not kind; I'm selfish and lonely, and I want to love and be loved.
And it would kill him too, as it would kill her.
A rose petal, a single rose petal as red as blood, floated down from the sky above to land upon the wooden bench behind her.
"Amber!" Ruby cried, suddenly standing over her. Amber did not know whence she had come; she hadn't heard her, but there she was. "Found you."
"Ruby," Amber murmured.
"I thought you might come here," Ruby said. "You seemed to like it here last night."
"It's quiet, and peaceful," Amber said softly. "And alone."
Ruby was quiet for a moment or two; she sat down next to Amber, sitting upon the hem of her cloak.
"There … there are a lot of times when we shouldn't be alone," she said. "There are even more times when you shouldn't be alone."
"Because I am the Fall Maiden," Amber said.
"That's right," Ruby answered. "Because you're important. Well, I mean, everyone's important, but you … you're … you're in danger, because you're the Fall Maiden, and if…"
And if Cinder got the rest of my magic, then it would be terrible, Amber thought.
"Why did you run?" asked Ruby.
Amber hesitated.
Ruby shuffled a little closer to her, so their shoulders were almost touching.
"It's okay," she said. "Whatever it is, you can say it. Whatever we did, if we did anything, then we can make sure that we don't do it again. Was it the fighting?"
"It was the flames," Amber said. "I … I didn't like the fighting, but the flames … when I saw Yang … all I could think of was … it frightened me."
"Yang's semblance does look kind of scary," Ruby admitted. "Especially when her eyes change colour." She giggled. "When I was a kid, she used to hide in my closet and jump out at me with her eyes turned red like that; it used to scare the pants off me, especially when she did it before I could turn the lights on."
"That sounds…" Amber trailed off, unable to say how it sounded because it sounded quite frankly horrible.
"It was fine," Ruby assured. "It was just sister stuff. I got my own back on her by eating cookies in her bed and leaving crumbs everywhere." She smiled, as though this was supposed to make Amber laugh.
It didn't. She failed to see the funny side of it.
The smile faded from Ruby's face.
"Anyway," she went on, "even though Yang can look scary with her semblance, she's actually a really kind person, warm and caring. She would never set out to make you feel afraid."
"Because I'm not her sister," Amber murmured.
"Um … well, I … not exactly," Ruby said. "She doesn't scare me anymore either."
"I imagine you're too brave to be scared," Amber said, looking at Ruby. "You must be brave, to be here."
Ruby stared at her for a second. A faint blush of colour rose to her cheeks. "I mean… I'd like to think so."
"I think so," Amber repeated. "I think you're all so terribly brave." She paused for a moment. "Are you afraid of anything, Ruby?"
"Lots of things," Ruby replied. "Failure, people dying because I screwed up, because I couldn't do what had to be done. Letting people down. Letting my mom down."
"Those are very brave things to be afraid of," Amber told her. "You're not afraid of dying?"
"No," Ruby said at once. "Not at all."
"'Not at all'?"
Ruby shook her head. "We all die sooner or later, and huntresses sooner than later, or sooner than most. Dying's not the hard part, or the part that I worry about. I…" She looked away. "I worry about not living a worthy enough life before I die, but the dying? That doesn't bother me at all."
"Brave," Amber whispered. "Brave new world."
"'New'?" Ruby repeated. "Nah, I don't think it's new. I think these are good, old-fashioned values, like Olivia and Percy would recognise."
"They're new to me," Amber replied. "My … my mother told me that if I was kind, I'd leave Dove be. That was after she found out about him obviously. She told me that if he was involved with me, he would only be involved in things that would hurt him. That if I was kind, if I cared about him, I'd let him go. But I didn't let him go, because I'm not kind—"
"I don't think that's true," Ruby said. "I think … I can see what your mom meant, but she didn't explain to you what she meant. Were you supposed to figure it out? Take her word for it? I think … I think that if you can find joy and love and happiness in your life while you can, then that's a good thing, provided that you don't lose your sense of what really matters because of it."
"You don't think that love is what really matters?" asked Amber.
Ruby was silent for a moment. "I … maybe it is for some people," she said. "But if you let it blind you to duty, to right and wrong, if you let it cause you to make terrible decisions … it's possible to love too much. There are more important things than whether we're happy."
"Why?" Amber asked. "Why don't we deserve to be happy?"
"Because … because I chose this," Ruby replied. "I chose this road, I chose to put my life on the line and dedicate it to protecting others, I don't get to do that and then complain that I don't also get to have a perfect life filled with ordinary happiness as well. If that's what I wanted, I shouldn't have come to Beacon."
"But you chose this," Amber said. "I never did. I didn't want to come to Beacon, I didn't want to become Fall Maiden, nobody asked me, Ozpin never asked if I wanted this, any of this, he just … it just happened. Because my mother loved me enough to think of me with her last thoughts, or hated me enough."
"I'm sure she didn't hate you—"
"Then why did she curse me like this?" asked Amber. "Why did she make me this way, this … this thing they hunt?"
"We can—"
"You can't protect me, none of you can!" Amber cried. "You're all going to die, and maybe you can accept that, but I … I can't. I just can't. Now that they know who I am … to be a Maiden is to die. Everyday, a little death in darkness until one day … the final death. Maybe…" She closed her eyes. "If I was brave, like you, like all of you, if I was brave, then I could bear that. I could bear it for the greater good, for duty, for the sake of everyone else. But I'm not brave. I'm frightened, and I want to live."
XxXxX
"I'm frightened, and I want to live."
Bon Bon hadn't been sure at first why she was hiding. She had followed Ruby looking for Amber, because Ruby seemed to know where she was going, and because Bon Bon wanted to make sure that Tempest hadn't found Amber while she was out of sight of any other protectors. But when she'd caught up with Ruby, at this place that she hadn't even known existed, and seen Amber there … she had been about to turn away, satisfied that Amber was found and safe, maybe let Dove know about it. She had no desire to pry into what passed between the two of them.
Then she had heard some of it. Just a snatch, but it had been enough to give her pause, to make her crouch down behind this bush so that she could hear more.
Amber was frightened. Well might she be frightened, all things considered, but to hear her confess it … no Beacon student would have spoken like this. Even if they had felt it, then pride and bravado would have made them put a false front for fear of being disdained, regarded as pathetic. But Amber wasn't a Beacon student. She was the Fall Maiden, and she had been trained to fight, but she hadn't chosen to be a warrior, a protector of the people, or even a servant of Salem and Doctor Watts; she had chosen none of this, none of the risk or the sacrifice.
Yet the risks were hers nonetheless, and the sacrifice … she feared the sacrifice would be her end.
For Dove's sake, Bon Bon would try to protect her from that, but the best that she could do was to stall Tempest.
No, not quite; she could stop being such a coward herself and actually out Tempest, and in the exposure, expose herself, but … but Tempest was only one person. Cinder was still out there, and Salem could always recruit others once Tempest was gone: other cruel, ambitious, or simply foolish people who thought they deserved more than life had given them.
People like Tempest, people like Cinder, people like Bon Bon.
If only there was some way that Amber could be made safe, protected for good.
If there was, then Bon Bon — and Amber too, she thought — would take it in a heartbeat.
Mom shrugged apologetically. "There are rather a lot of you," she pointed out. "Which isn't a criticism, by any means, I'm delighted to meet all your friends; it's just that I'm told a table for nine would be a difficult fit at the best of times, and, well, what with so many tourists in Vale for the tournament, these are not the best of times."
Blake supposed that she could understand that, but even so, she would have thought that Mom could have gotten a table in the restaurant of the hotel at which she was staying. But then, of course, the hotels would be full up too as part of the influx of visitors from across Remnant, drawn — despite the shock of the Breach, or perhaps reassured by the measures that Councillor Emerald had announced in response, or by the presence of General Ironwood's forces — by the allure of the Vytal Festival.
As a result, the nine of them — Blake, her mother, Sun, Rainbow Dash, Twilight, Sunset, Weiss, Starlight, and Trixie — were stood outside of the large, towering hotel where Mom was staying. It was not one of Vale's grandest hotels with a proud pedigree — Mom might be the High Chieftain's wife, and on Menagerie, that might come with many perks, but it didn't make her rich by the standards of the world beyond Menagerie — it looked too modern for that, a building in the new, featureless style, all plain walls and large windows rising up into the night sky. The name, Traveller's Rest, made Blake think that it might be part of a chain of hotels, all identically named. Nevertheless, it looked reasonable enough, it wasn't obviously disgusting to look in through the large, glass, automatic doors, and looking through the windows into the restaurant, it did seem to be quite full. Whoever had told Mom that they couldn't fit her party in did not seem to have been being disingenuous.
Not that that was much consolation to anyone standing outside in the darkness of night, as the light of the stars above mingled with the lights of the warships, Atlesian and Valish and Mistralian all alike that were crowding up the sky and blocking the stars, shining their counterfeit lights down on Vale in place of the celestial illuminations. How many people consciously looked up at those lights and felt safer about coming to Vale for the Vytal Festival because of their presence, Blake wondered, and how many people simply felt instinctively more secure as a result?
Mom hadn't changed, probably because she'd travelled quite light, but everyone else was wearing something a little different.
Rainbow Dash was wearing what she referred to as the dress whites, which meant that all trace of grey had been banished from her Atlas uniform: in place of her grey waistcoat, she wore a crisp, white, long-sleeved jacket, with her red aiguillette looping adding a splash of colour as it looped around her right sleeve before disappearing under one of the silver epaulettes that sat upon her shoulders; her skirt, too, was white, and so too the white stockings that she wore and might well have been glad of in this chill air; even her hands were enclosed beneath a pair of white gloves; the only things about her that were not white — aside from her skin and hair, obviously — were the black shoes on her feet and the black tie, the beginnings of which were just about visible before it disappeared beneath her jacket.
Twilight had pinned her hair up into a high bun, visibly rising above her head, with only a pair of strands of hair falling down on either side of her face to frame her cheeks. She was dressed in a light blue blouse with a collar — around which she was wearing a moderately-sized pink bow, like a bow tie, but bigger and more bow-ish — and short puffed sleeves which, unfortunately in the current circumstances, left most of her arms bare and exposed to view; her skirt was lavender and a little longer than thigh length, with her emblem of the six-pointed star emblazoned upon one side. Her socks were a light lilac colour and went up to just beneath her knees, which might have felt as much of a chill as her arms were doing. Her shoes were black, with a pink border around them, and high heeled, adding some inches to her height; there were sparkling crystal buckles on the toes.
Sun … well, it was easy to see what Neptune had done. What Neptune had done, in point of fact, seemed to mostly have been lent Sun his clothes; fortunately, they were so similar in size that any poor fit was not noticeable, but that didn't mean that Sun looked at ease in an ocean blue jacket with white and turquoise trim around the cuffs, a pair of pristine white pants, or the red shirt with blue tie that he had on beneath the jacket. The only thing Sun was wearing that appeared to be actually his were his yellow trainers, which rather stood out against the rest of what he had on.
Sunset was wearing an emerald cocktail dress of a shimmering fabric, even in the darkness outside the hotel; it had a V-neckline that was low enough to begin to reveal without going on to reveal too much and a skirt which flared outwards from the waist before ending around her knees. A couple of inches of translucent black lace descended just below the hem of the skirt and covered Sunset's chest and shoulders from the neckline and the sleeves that Blake couldn't see to her neck, ending in what looked like a black choker fastened around her throat. Blake couldn't see the sleeves, but whatever they were, they were sufficiently unobtrusive that Sunset was able to wear her leather jacket over the top of it. Over her hands, emerging from beneath her jacket sleeves, she still wore her white gloves.
Weiss had chosen to change her outfit but not to dress up; in fact, since she was wearing the same thing that she had worn to assist Blake and Rainbow Dash in Low Town — the white double-breasted coat and flaring skirt with black petticoats, the white boots that rose higher than her knees; the only thing different was that she had shorted the length of her black stockings, which now ended just above the top of her boots and left her lower thighs exposed — one might almost say that she was dressing down for the occasion. Nevertheless, she still managed to wear it in such a way as to imply a class not borne out by the garments themselves, and she had changed clothes, after all.
Trixie was dressed all in blue, a dark blue bodice with a square neckline and long sleeves that were more of a midnight blue, with ever so slightly puffed shoulders. Her skirt was knee length and of the same shade as her sleeves. It all looked rather plain, but Trixie made up for that; first with the light purple cape around her neck, descending to below the level of her skirt and decorated with a riot of stars, gold, silver, shades of blue, all sparkling even in the light from the street lights on the pavement; and second with her incredibly chunky boots that were a deep, dark blue, high heeled, and looked thick and heavy enough to be used as clubs in an emergency. A purple band ran around the ankle of each boot, decorated with three silver stars in front and fastening at the back with golden buckles, while the tops of her boots folded downwards like the collar of a shirt, with purple amethysts set in gold — or the appearance of gold — pinned to the top.
Starlight Glimmer had joined Rainbow Dash in wearing the Atlesian dress whites, with the only differences being the lack of any sort of aiguillette and the fact that her stockings were jet black as opposed to white. Blake thought the contrast might work better than the continuity.
As for Blake herself, she hadn't bothered to change. She didn't see why she needed to; after all, while her mom might be Lady Belladonna, ma'am, the High Chieftainess, or their girlfriend's mother to the rest of the group gathered here, shivering outside, to Blake, she was just … her mom. A mother with whom, after everything that Blake had done, after everything that she'd been through, after everything that had passed between them, she was probably past the point of being able to impress by dressing well.
The one concession Blake had made to altering her appearance in any way was to tie her long, wild black hair back into a ponytail, which hung down behind her almost to her waist. Blake … couldn't say she liked it. It might work for Pyrrha — or Ilia, for that matter — but it wasn't working for her, at least in her own opinion. Sun had said it was cute, but he was either lying to be nice, or he was mistaken. Still, at least it looked as though she had made some little effort to change things up.
"Never mind, ma'am," Rainbow said. "I'm sure we'll find somewhere that can fit us in."
"You'd certainly hope so, in a city this size," Mom replied, smiling somewhat. "If anyone has any ideas, lead the way."
"I checked a few places before we came down here, just in case we had any trouble," Twilight murmured. "Not that I … just in case. As a backup."
"And you found somewhere?" Rainbow asked.
"There were a couple of places that seemed nice," Twilight replied. "Unfortunately, I didn't try to actually book us a table, but hopefully, they'll be able to find us somewhere."
"As I said," Mom said, "lead the way."
"Right," Twilight said, nodding her head. She got out her scroll, her slight and nimble fingers tapping on the scroll once, twice, three times. "The closest place … let's see if I can book us a table … no, they don't have anything free right now."
"With luck, they'll be keeping some tables free for walk-ins," Mom said. "We may as well head there anyway and find out; it's as good as standing around out here, isn't it?"
"Okay," Twilight said, sounding not too confident about Mom's assessment. Blake wasn't too confident about it either, but she had a point that they might as well get on the move as stand here in front of this hotel all night.
"It's this way," Twilight said, gesturing to her left. She began to walk in that direction, walking past Trixie and Starlight in order to do so.
Rainbow followed, undoing the top button of her jacket for some reason, and everyone else present began to flow in that direction.
"Blake?" Mom asked quietly, as she did not immediately join the others. Rather, she moved closer to Blake, leaning in a little bit to speak in a hushed voice. "Your friends are all very deferential. Are you sure they're your friends and not your sycophants?"
Blake smiled softly, even as a snort escaped her nostrils. "It's not me, Mom, it's you. The Atlesians are taught manners on the curriculum, and Sunset's a snob, and frankly a bit of a bootlicker to the aristocracy — or at least to their parents; I don't seem to count in her eyes, and even Pyrrha counts less than her mother." At least, Blake had never caught Sunset referring to her as 'Lady Pyrrha' the way that she so fastidiously referred to Pyrrha's mother as 'Lady Nikos.' Perhaps familiarity bred … not contempt, but an erosion of deference in her eyes. Or perhaps it was merely that she would not force titles on those who would not want them. "The point is, they are my friends. They're just your sycophants."
"Except for Sun," Mom pointed out.
Blake's smile became a little wider, and a little less soft. "Sun is from Vacuo," she reminded her mother. "They do things differently there."
"Do things better, perhaps," Mom suggested. "Are you sure that Atlas is where you want to go?"
"They're courteous, Mom; they're not bad people," Blake said.
"I never said they were; I like Rainbow already," Mom declared. "I'm just not sure I'd want to live with the stuffiness all the time."
Blake chuckled. "Well, fortunately, you don't have to." She took her mother by the shoulder and turned her in the direction in which the others had begun to move. "Now come on, before any of them start to wonder why you're still standing here."
As a matter of fact, Sun appeared to have already noticed, having stopped to wait for them, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his white pants as she did so. "Is everything okay?" he asked.
"It's fine," Blake assured him. "But thanks for checking."
"So," Mom said, raising her voice as they caught up with the others. "I know most of you already, which means that you must be … well, one of you is Starlight Glimmer and the other—"
"The Grrrrrrreat and Powerful Trrrrrixie at your service!" Trixie said, turning elegantly on her toe and beginning to walk backwards down the street even as she bowed to Blake's mother.
"Which would make me Starlight," Starlight said, smiling. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."
"The pleasure is all mine, meeting my daughter's friends," Mom said. "I'm so glad she has some; she was such a moody, lonely child."
Blake groaned wordlessly. "Rainbow Dash?"
"Yeah?"
"I might have to take my revenge on you for this."
Rainbow laughed. "Your parents can embarrass you for a few hours at a time, Blake, but they can love you for their whole lives."
"Perhaps I should have brought your parents with me," Mom said.
"I'm glad you didn't make me practise what I preach, ma'am," Rainbow said, smoothly and without a trace of shame.
As they walked down the street, cars whizzing past them on their way to somewhere or other, Mom said, "So, have you all fought alongside Blake?"
"'Fighting' is a bit of a strong word, in my case," Twilight replied. "But everyone else … yeah, I think so."
"If there's anyone here besides Twilight who hasn't fought with Blake, then stick your hand in the air," Sun said.
Nobody raised their hands.
"Comrades in arms," Mom murmured. "Not the life that I envisaged, but … better than a lonely life, I suppose." She smiled. "Much better than being lonely."
Sunset smirked. "Of course, if we were to use a different definition of 'fighting with Blake,' then how many people here could raise their hands for having not done so?"
"If you mean what I think you mean," Starlight said, sticking her hand in the air.
Twilight also raised her hand.
Sun half-raised his. "I mean, what counts as a fight?"
"I think the other person has to be there for it to count as a fight; you can't just stew in their absence," Sunset informed him.
"Oh," Sun said. "Cool." He lowered his hand.
Mom's eyebrows rose. "All the rest of you have…"
"I … may have gotten off to something of a rough start," Blake admitted, turning her face away and giving serious consideration to leaving a clone of herself behind while she scarpered back to Beacon.
Except Rainbow would probably just fly Mom up there to talk to her about this.
"I see," Mom murmured. "Except I don't, which makes me think that I'm going to need to hear a lot more details than I've gotten so far about all of this, starting … well," — she looked around, her skirts swishing a little as she turned while she walked, casting her golden gaze around the assembled group — "I'm afraid I'm going to have to rely on you to tell me exactly where the beginning is. How did all of this start, this road that led Blake to Atlas, this rough start that made you all so fond of her?"
A moment of silence descended on the company. If they were all wondering where they ought to begin, and how much they could or should or wanted to say, then their thoughts were only mirroring those of Blake herself, who didn't really want to tell her mother the whole story, even the bits that weren't secret, because … well, because it was kind of embarrassing in places. Despite how far she had come, despite the esteem in which Rainbow and the other Atlesians held her, the fact remained that she had not covered herself in glory in the early days at Beacon, and she was not particularly keen to revisit that with her mother.
She decided to take the initiative, before anyone else could do it for her. "I had a quiet first few weeks at Beacon—"
"Well," Sunset said, cutting her off almost immediately, "that isn't entirely true, is it?"
Blake honestly had no idea what she was referring to; her time at Beacon had been entirely placid and uneventful until Rainbow Dash had shown up; it was a little funny to think that if Penny hadn't run away to Vale and forced Team RSPT to come and get her, then she, Blake, might have remained the leader of Team BLBL all year.
And nobody would have stopped the White Fang from robbing the dust at the docks.
Everything might have been peaceful — or Vale might have been overrun on the Breach.
Either way, it's all because of a curious girl with a yearning to be free.
On such things do the fates of kingdoms turn.
Take that, socio-economic forces of history!
Although I doubt Sienna will be pleased by the vindication of Great Man history.
She said, "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I'm talking about the first time you went out of your way to put yourself in harm's way," Sunset said. "During the … leadership exercise, for want of a better word."
"Oh," Blake. "Oh, that … that wasn't—"
"I don't think I know this story," Rainbow said.
"Okay," Sunset said, putting one hand into the pocket of her jacket, even as she gestured with the other, holding it about level with her face, turning back and forwards as she walked so that she was looking at everyone, her eyes meeting theirs, "there was a grimm horde moving towards Vale—"
"A different grimm horde, I take it, to the one that the White Fang planned to loose on the city?" Mom asked.
"Yes, Mom, a different one."
"How many grimm hordes have you had to deal with?" asked Mom, concern in her voice.
"It was only a small horde, level one," Sunset assured her.
"Still," Starlight said, "a horde is a horde. But what does this have to do with Blake?"
"Because we had to go and deal with it," Weiss said. "'We' being the team leaders, which at that time included Blake."
There was a moment of silence from the Atlas students.
"So," Starlight said, "you got plucked out of your teams and sent … where, exactly?"
"The Emerald Forest," Blake replied.
"You got plucked out of your teams and sent into the Emerald Forest to fight an approaching grimm horde."
"A level one grimm horde," Blake insisted.
"A horde, as I said, is a horde," Starlight declared. "That … how is taking you away from your teams supposed to teach you anything about leadership?"
"We were supposed to work together, without just barking orders at people who felt they had to obey," Blake said. "That, in itself, teaches something about interpersonal dynamics, how to obtain consent or obedience, how to make plans that command confidence—"
"Did it work?" asked Twilight.
"It doesn't matter if it works or not; it was reckless," Starlight said. "I would not have allowed that."
Trixie chuckled. "Trixie appreciates the concern, provided it stays on the right side of patronising, but I'm not sure you would have had much choice."
"So you never do anything like that in Atlas?" Mom asked.
"Beacon does more fieldwork than any other academy, ma'am," Weiss said. "That's one of the reasons why it's the best."
"Really?" Rainbow said. "Really?"
Weiss didn't say anything, but there was a faint smile upon her face.
"What would Atlas or Haven have done in that situation?" asked Mom.
"I don't know if I've been at Haven long enough to say what Haven would have done in that situation," Sun admitted. "Maybe … I don't think they would have done that; I'm not sure that students would have been used at all—"
"Students were used when one grimm roamed too close to Mistral for comfort," Sunset pointed out. "Although from what Professor Lionheart said, that was only as a last resort, due to the shortage of huntsmen present in Mistral at the time. I think that under better circumstances, Lady Terri-Belle would have led out her forces to confront the grimm, as Professor Ozpin once led out the huntsmen of Vale after Mountain Glenn."
"Yeah, that makes sense," Sun agreed. "Professor Lionheart did say that we wouldn't be doing any fieldwork until the end of the second semester at Beacon at the earliest. That was one of the reasons why I left; being stuck in the classroom listening to Professor Mars talk into the blackboard about old Mistralian history sounded really boring."
"In Atlas," Rainbow said. "Well … it would depend upon a few things really: availability of air assets, the exact path the horde was going to take. In cases where a settlement is vulnerable…" She trailed off, and her head dropped forward a little bit. "In cases where a settlement is vulnerable, students are sometimes deployed to assist in evacuation efforts, but not as a front line force." She paused, and Blake guessed that she was thinking about Kotetsu, General Ironwood's son, and how he had lost his life in just such a support role, a role which wasn't supposed to put him on the front line but the front line had found him anyway. "That's not to say that stuff doesn't happen: surprises, accidents … mistakes. But it wouldn't be done intentionally. First preference is to smash them up from the air if possible."
"I feel, even though I'm not actually from Vale, that I should point out that there was a warship standing by," Sunset said, "and military forces."
"Then why didn't they use them?" asked Starlight.
"Because it was an exercise for us," Sunset said. "Now, can I go back to telling the story, or do you have more points to make about how wonderful Atlas is?"
"Please," Twilight said, "go on."
"Thank you, Twilight," Sunset said. "As I was saying, we team leaders were set down in the Emerald Forest. Now, most of the leaders of our cohort moved forwards to confront the grimm, but Weiss, Blake, Yang, and I, we decided to—"
"Be too clever for our own good," Blake muttered, because if she was going to be dragged through the mud over this, then Sunset was going to share in it.
Sunset paused a second. "Yes," she admitted. "Yes, it was … yes, it was too clever of us. Of me."
"What did you do?" asked Rainbow.
"We decided that instead of meeting the grimm head on in a battle we couldn't possibly win, we would work our way around the flank of the horde and try and take out the apex alpha," said Sunset.
Trixie whistled. "That was bold."
"That was reckless," Rainbow said. "You could have got yourselves in a lot of trouble."
"Mmm," Weiss murmured. "Nevertheless, it seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Although this doesn't seem like a story in which Blake bears greater culpability than the rest of you," Mom pointed out.
"Not yet," Sunset said. "You see, we did manage to avoid the rest of the grimm, we worked our way around the horde without being spotted by any outriders, and we even came upon the apex alpha, the four of us."
"Apex alphas are heavily guarded," Starlight pointed out. "They surrounded themselves with powerful grimm; some of them are alphas in their own right."
"That's why I did—"
"Something rash—"
"Something necessary," Blake insisted. "Someone had to draw off some of the apex alpha's bodyguards, and I thought that I had a better chance of doing that and staying ahead of the grimm than Sunset, Weiss, or Yang. My semblance makes me uniquely suited for evasion, and I'm fast and nimble. It wasn't mere recklessness; it was a calculated decision based on the necessity of the moment."
So long as Rainbow doesn't tell Mom about the time I said I wished Neon had blown my head off, I should be able to get away with presenting my reputation as overblown.
And, to be fair to myself, I wouldn't wish that nowadays. I've changed since then, so she doesn't need to know about it.
"That is as may be, but you still scared us for a little bit," Sunset said.
"What happened?" Mom asked, sounding a little anxious even though the proof of the happy ending was the fact that Blake was standing right there, whole and entire.
"We killed the apex alpha, causing the grimm horde to begin to dissolve, although the remnants of it remained in the Emerald Forest for some time," Weiss said. "But … Blake's decision may have been reckless, but we were all reckless; we got ourselves into a situation from which we had no escape plan; if Professor Goodwitch hadn't been monitoring us, then we would have been in a lot of trouble. In some ways, Blake performed the best of all of us; she wasn't there for the kill, but she did manage to find her way back to safety without being picked up."
"You outran all those grimm, on your own?" Rainbow demanded. "You definitely didn't tell me that."
"Why would I?"
"Because it's really awesome, that's why!"
Blake shrugged. "I'm not one to boast."
"You won't fit in in Atlas with that attitude," Weiss muttered, an undercurrent of amusement in her voice.
"So why did the four of you decide to go after the apex grimm?" asked Mom. "Why didn't you go with the others to meet the horde head on? What made you do it?"
The three of them who had been there — Sunset, Weiss, and Blake, minus the absent Yang — were all momentarily quiet.
"None of us here can speak for Yang," Blake said, "but—"
"Personally, I'm afraid to say that it was for the glory," Sunset confessed. "I wanted to make my reputation, and how better to do that than by cutting the head off a grimm horde, even a small one?"
"I wouldn't put it so crudely," Weiss murmured, "but I would probably say the same thing with different words. I … whatever you may think about my family, ma'am, to me, the name of Schnee, descending as it does from Nicholas my grandfather, who tamed the wilds and brought nature itself under our control, is a great burden to live up to. I wished to do some great deed that would demonstrate my worth in that regard."
"I…" Blake hesitated. "It sounds … I supposed I'd forgotten about the Valish destroyer or the defence forces; I thought … I was genuinely worried about what might happen to Vale if the grimm horde continued on its way. And so, to stop the horde, to keep the grimm mired in the Emerald Forest, that, for me, was worth the risk."
"Sure, make the two of us sound really bad by comparison," Sunset said, rolling her eyes.
Rainbow grinned. "Well, when you put it like that, it makes it really hard to condemn you."
"You're so brave and so selfless," Sun told her, rubbing her back and up and down with one hand. "Are you even real?"
Blake chuckled. "Yes, Sun, yes, I am quite real."
"Some of the most rrrrrreal people in the world are also the most extraordinary," Trixie declared. "Like the Grrrrreat and Powerful Trrrrrixie." She smiled. "Or the Brrrrave and Selfless Blake Belladonna!"
"I am not calling myself that," Blake said flatly.
"I don't know," said Mom. "I think it has a certain ring to it."
"Mom!"
"Do you think it's better or worse than the Warrior Princess of Menagerie?" asked Twilight.
"Can I say I think they're both equally bad?" asked Blake.
"Warrior Princess? Now, I like that," Mom said, "Although I should point out that Menagerie isn't a hereditary monarchy, so Blake won't automatically inherit the title of High Chieftain once her father dies."
"Which won't be for many years yet, in any case," Blake said.
"That's probably for the best, what with Blake coming to Atlas and all," Rainbow said. "But who will be the next High Chieftain, ma'am?"
"My father is still in very good health," Blake said. "Isn't he?"
Mom nodded. "Oh, yes, of course, dear; your father's fine; I wouldn't have left him if he wasn't. As for who will succeed him … well, as Blake said, it's early days at this stage; I'm sure that Ghira will attempt to groom a successor, someone he feels has the strength of character to be a good ruler for our people, but ultimately, the people themselves will decide who will rule over them. Ghira's dying voice will carry some weight, but nothing is certain."
"You mean there'll be an election?" Rainbow asked. "Like for the Council?"
"It sounds more informal than that," Sunset said.
"Quite," Mom agreed. "Those who wish to be High Chieftain will present themselves, or be presented, before an assembly of the people of Menagerie, who will cry out for the High Chieftain that they desire."
Rainbow's eyebrows rose. "You're going to pick the next High Chieftain with a shouting match?"
"It is the old way," Sunset said. "Or an old way, at least."
"I think we're almost at the restaurant," Twilight announced. "The new restaurant, anyway. Let's hope that they can fit us in."
It turned out that they could not, in fact, fit them in. The restaurant was already crowded; just standing huddled in the doorway before the desk, they could see how crowded it was, how ram-packed with patrons; the sound of their conversation echoed to the ceiling and spilled out on the street behind them. The maitre'd apologetically informed them that they didn't have a table, still less a table for nine, at least not now, possibly not at all tonight. The best he could offer was that if they waited an hour or so, then he might, might be able to fit them in.
And it was the same story, or much the same story at least, wherever they went. They trudged — certainly, it eventually came to feel like trudging, their steps heavy, their stomachs empty — through the city of Vale, searching for somewhere, anywhere in this whole city that might be able to seat and feed them.
Surely, in a city the size of Vale, there must be somewhere they could go to eat.
So, at least, you would have thought.
Twilight shivered from the cold as they walked across a pedestrianised square, with trees planted on the corners. Rainbow took off her jacket and draped it over Twilight's shoulders like a cloak. Twilight smiled at her gratefully and, with one hand, grasped the jacket lapel and pulled it a little tighter around herself.
Everywhere they went, as the night sky grew darker, had no room for them. Some of them were obviously full up, they could tell that from looking; some of them were so obviously full up that the group didn't even bother to go in, just looking in at the windows was enough to tell them that there was no chance of getting a table at some of these places.
Which was a pity, because some of them had nice-sounding menus.
Some of them did not look quite so full, although the staff insisted that they were, that any tables that might look empty were reserved for diners who were due to arrive at any moment; they might even have been telling the truth, although the way that their eyes flickered to the ears atop the heads of Blake, her mother, Rainbow, and Sunset, the way they looked at the tails of Sun and Sunset, made Blake think they might not have been entirely honest in the regard.
Some restaurateurs were honest with them, although it was hard to commend them for it.
"We don't serve your kind in here, not anymore!" one woman snapped at them, flapping her hands to drive them from the doorway as though they were errant cats. "Not after what you did! I don't know how you have the nerve to walk around here as though you own the place; clear out, all of you, and your damn Atlas friends! You northerners lie down with dogs, you'll get fleas; clear off, we want none of you! Get out! And go back to the jungle you came from!"
Sadly, she wasn't the only person to express such sentiments, either in refusing to serve Blake and her friends or just shouting at them as they passed on the street or in the square.
"Animals!"
"Murderers!"
"Atlas scum!"
"Go back where you came from!"
"You'll get what's coming to you!"
"Is it always like this?" asked Mom, her ears drooping. "I thought Vale was better than this."
"This is why I didn't want you to walk back to your hotel alone, ma'am," Rainbow said.
"Yes," Mom murmured. "Yes, I find myself glad that you insisted." She paused, then seemed to make an effort to brighten visibly. "So, what happened next?"
"Ma'am?" asked Rainbow.
"You were telling me all about Blake and how you'd fought alongside her," Mom reminded them. "What happened after that business with the grimm horde?"
"Then things went back to being quiet," Blake said.
"Until we disturbed your peaceful life, is that it?" asked Twilight, smiling a little.
"More or less," Blake admitted apologetically. "But please, don't take that as me being ungrateful. If I hadn't … well, I was just thinking that if you hadn't arrived in Vale when you did, then a lot of things would have been very different."
"Does this mean that we're going to get to hear why you took your team to Beacon early, Rainbow Dash?" asked Trixie. "Trrrrrixie can hardly wait."
"Is this some sort of secret?" asked Mom, sounding rather thrilled at the idea.
"It's not a secret," Rainbow assured her.
"It is to us," Starlight pointed out. "A few weeks into semester, you bailed on us; next thing we know, it's been announced that your secondment to Beacon has started early. So what happened?"
Rainbow shrugged. "It's not a big deal. Penny … Penny wasn't happy at Atlas. In fact, she was so unhappy at Atlas that she's transferring to Beacon next year, but nobody was ready to take that step then, so … she stayed at Beacon for the year. Which I suppose should have been a pretty big clue as to how things would shake out, but … yeah, that's it. It was for Penny, it was for… for her happiness, I guess you could say."
That's probably about all you can say without telling everyone what Penny really is, Blake thought.
"Is that why you didn't invite Penny to join us?" Mom asked.
"Penny and I aren't that close," Blake said. "Even when I worked with Team Rosepetal, we never … we're just not that close. We're like … ships passing in the night; we have friends in common but that doesn't make us friends. Penny … Penny is a friend of Team Sapphire. That's … how I met Team Rosepetal."
"Through Sunset and her team?"
"No, because Team Rosepetal was sitting with Team Sapphire when I came down for breakfast," Blake said. "I … I don't think that you need to hear again what happened between me and Rainbow Dash at first, and I don't want to go over it."
"Me neither, if it's okay with you, ma'am," Rainbow muttered. "I thought, I did some things that I'm not proud of, Blake and I have moved past all that, way past it, but … I'd rather not go over it all again."
"We both made mistakes,and reacted with prejudice," Blake said. "And we both learned better, to look deeper, to see further. I … I'm sure you'd much rather hear about how I first met Sun!"
It was like distracting a cat with a laser pointer. "Oh, yes, do tell."
"It was about halfway through the first semester at Beacon," Blake explained. "Weiss had heard a rumour that the Shade students would be arriving that day for the Vytal Festival—"
"That would have been a little early, wouldn't it?" asked Starlight.
"I know, I was taken in, and I didn't think it through," Weiss admitted, "but I wanted to check out the competi— I mean, I wanted to welcome our guests from foreign shores."
"Who'd want to welcome a Shade student anywhere?" Trixie asked mockingly.
Nobody answered her.
Blake went on. "So, Weiss dragged myself, Sunset, Yang, and Rainbow Dash down to the docks to see the Shade students arrive. As it turned out, there were no Shade students." She glanced up at Sun. "But there was a certain Vacuo-born Haven student who had stowed away on a ship bound for Vale which had just docked on the same day."
"A stowaway?" Mom asked, her tone making it unclear what exactly she thought of this revelation.
Sun laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head with one hand. "Well, Mrs. B, you see, the thing is—"
"You know, Blake's father and I used to stow away all the time on ships travelling between Anima and Solitas in the early days," Mom said.
"Really?" Sun and Blake said at the same time.
Mom nodded. "Especially before Blake was born; after I had a child, we tried to be a little bit more legitimate in how we moved around, but in those first years, when we'd just gotten together, when we were first married? Yes, we stowed away, we snuck onto liners without tickets and hid where we could, we slept in cargo holds; you have to understand that there wasn't a lot of money in the White Fang in those days, and what donations we received went to support faunus in need. So, when it came to going to this kingdom or that kingdom, to make a speech or attend a rally, to lobby for change, we made do; we cut our cloth as short as it would go. That's why, now that Ghira is the High Chieftain, I do my best to help faunus get to Menagerie if they wish to: because I remember when our travel options were limited and so were our means, and I hate to leave people trapped that way."
"I'm sure that everyone appreciates it, ma'am," Rainbow said. "I know that my parents do."
Mom nodded in acknowledgement of Rainbow's gratitude before she returned her attention to Sun. "So, is that what you meant about not wanting to spend time in class?"
Sun laughed again. "I … my feet were getting a little itchy, I suppose."
"And are you sure your feet won't get itchy in Mantle?" asked Mom.
"If they do, I'll give them a scratch," Blake said, with almost a purr in her voice.
"Thanks, Blake, because that was an image that I wanted," Rainbow muttered.
"The point is," Blake said, "that the first time I saw Sun was when he was running down the street having just leapt off the boat, pursued by a group of angry sailors and cops. That kind of thing … leaves an impression."
"Although you were the only one on whom that particular kind of impression was made," Weiss pointed out. "The rest of us were rather more preoccupied with Sun's lawbreaking."
"It's a victimless crime!" Sun cried.
"You'll note that the word 'crime' is still in that sentence," Weiss pointed out to him. "I don't deny that there are some people whose circumstances are so strained and their need is so great that they have no choice but to resort to such measures, but you … it wouldn't have killed you to stay at Haven that semester, would it?"
"Maybe not, but I'm glad he did all the same," declared Blake as she leaned against Sun. "Sun … was the only one who was there for me that night, when no one else was."
"Because we couldn't find you," Sunset said. "We were looking."
"Is this…?" Mom trailed off. "Is this when … when you first found out that Blake had—"
"We didn't find out that Blake hadn't been an Atlesian agent undercover with the White Fang for a while yet, ma'am," Rainbow said quickly.
"Yeah, an Atlesian agent," Starlight said, a knowing smile spreading upon her face. "Undercover with the White Fang as part of Operation Tissue Thin."
"Starlight—"
"Come on, Dash, we're all friends here, right?" asked Trixie. "And we're not completely stupid. Speaking for herself, the story … Blake's story, shall we say, in case anyone is listening, is … an inspiring one. To go from that … that to a true hero of Atlas! We'll keep your secret; just don't think that we don't know that it's a secret." She winked at Blake.
Blake chuckled softly. "I suppose … thanks."
"For what?" Starlight asked with deliberate disingenuousness.
Rainbow shook her head. "But yes, ma'am, that is where I found out who Blake had been … undercover with. Blake—"
"I ran away," Blake said. "And while I was running away, I ran into Sun again, and he suggested that we ought to stake out the docks in case the White Fang tried to rob a large dust shipment that had just arrived."
"It made sense to me at the time," Sun added.
"And we did," Blake said simply. "And that … that is how this whole adventure got started. The White Fang, Cinder, me being exposed as an … undercover agent, working with the Atlesians, deciding to go to Atlas … it all came down to that one day."
"Sounds like fate," Mom said. "But, if you'll forgive me, Starlight, Trixie, I'm still not seeing how the two of you come into this."
"We've been in the background," Starlight admitted, "but we did have the honour of fighting alongside Blake on a mission to a little village called Badger's Drift."
"General Ironwood suggested I might like to see what other Atlas teams were like, besides Team Rosepetal," Blake explained, "and so, I agreed to join Team Tsunami, and Twilight, when they went to check on a village where contact had been lost. We also got off to a rough start."
"Every team leader has their own style," Trixie declared. "It took Blake a little while to appreciate the unique style of the Grrrreat and Powerrrrrrful Trrrrrrixie. Just as it took Trixie a little while to appreciate Blake's own sterrrrrrling qualities."
"Was everyone alright?" Mom asked. "In the village that had lost contact, I mean?"
"Most of them," Starlight said. "We found them sheltering in some nearby caves. Blake delivered the coup de grace to the grimm that was threatening them. Carried the grenade herself to blow up the nexus of a rat-king."
"Are you sure you don't have a reckless streak, dear?" asked Blake's mother.
"I've chosen a risky life, Mom," Blake informed her, "and I do what I have to do to get the job done, to save lives."
"And Blake has saved a lot of lives, ma'am," Weiss added. "On her own or in part."
It was shortly thereafter, after some time walking fruitlessly around Vale looking for somewhere with the will and the capacity to take them in, when it seemed that they had finally found somewhere: a hole in the wall place in just outside the boundaries of Vale's Little Mistral, sandwiched between two other, larger establishments, with a scrawny-looking man standing outside with a handful of fliers in his hand.
"Good evening!" he called out to them as they approached. "Are you looking for somewhere to eat?"
"Is it that obvious?" asked Twilight.
"Just the place for you right here, three course meals for just twenty-five lien a head," the young man said, holding out one of the fliers. He did not quite reach all the way to Twilight, who grasped the flier with her telekinetic semblance and pulled it into her hand.
"What about tonight?" she asked. "I don't suppose you could fit a table of nine tonight?"
"Yes! Yes, we could, absolutely; just go right down, someone will help you get settled."
The little gap, the hole in the wall, was a staircase that led down underground, into a basement with a beige carpet and a room that was half separated by a dividing wall, but with no door, just a doorway.
There were tables here, some large and some small, and all of them completely empty. Vale was heaving with hungry diners, so many of them that they were filling up all the other restaurants in town to the extent that Blake and her family and friends could not get a seat anywhere, but this place was empty.
Although perhaps there were other people here; they were just hidden on the other side of the wall.
And besides, it wasn't as if everywhere else in Vale was completely full; some of them were just racists.
A young woman, about the same height as Ruby, with sandy brown hair, appeared, a smile fixed on her face. "Good evening ladies and gentleman, are you all together?"
"We are, yes," Twilight said. "The man outside said—"
"Yes, yes, we can fit you in, no problems," the girl said. "Just … oh, yeah, there's a nice big table over there if you want it, that round one there." She gestured to the corner, where there was indeed a large round table with room for ten.
"Perfect," Twilight said, "thank you."
"Great! Just sit yourselves down, and I'll be back in a minute with your menus." She turned, and bustled off.
They all sat down. Sunset took off her jacket and draped it over the back of her chair. Twilight did likewise with Rainbow's jacket. One by one, they pulled out their chairs and took their seats. The restaurant was silent; there was no canned music, nothing. No sound but what they would make themselves.
Mom began, "So, Weiss—"
"I'm not staying here!"
The voice that had spoken so loudly, and so harshly, belonged to a woman about the age of Blake's mother, perhaps a little younger, a firm voice, with a somewhat strong accent, although perhaps the volume and the anger in her voice was making it seem stronger. It was coming from the other side of the wall, wafting in through the doorless doorway.
"Look at that," she said, although to whom she was saying it, Blake couldn't tell, perhaps the waitress. "That's not cooked!"
"Well, I—"
"Some of this, I've got to say, some of this stuff that you've put here in front of this, it's absolutely disgusting. You shouldn't be serving food like this; it's an absolute disgrace."
"Madam—"
"I'm not paying for that. I'm not paying for it, and I'm not eating it. Come on, love; we're not staying here."
"But Mum!"
"No, we're not staying here, we'll find somewhere else; come on, grab your coat." The woman's voice rose again. "I wouldn't serve a dog some of that."
A woman bustled out through the doorway, leading by the hand a young boy in a bright blue raincoat. The woman herself cast an eye on Blake and the others where they sat. "I wouldn't, if I were you," she muttered, before leading her son past them all and up the stairs towards the exit.
There was a moment of quiet as the group at the table looked around.
"Do you guys want to go somewhere else?" asked Rainbow Dash.
"Oh, Celestia, yes," Sunset said.
Of course, once they had got up from their seats, and got out, and ignored the young man pleading with them to come back as they walked away, they were faced with the return of the fact, on the evidence, there really just wasn't anywhere else to go.
"We could always go back to Beacon?" Sunset suggested. "I bet Benni Haven's could fit us in."
"It's hardly food for Lady Belladonna, is it?" Rainbow replied.
"Pyrrha's eaten there," Sunset pointed out.
"I doubt that Mom will mind," Blake said. "Would you, Mom? They're talking about the diner near Beacon."
Mom didn't answer; at least, she didn't answer that question. Instead, putting one arm around Blake's shoulder, she said, "You know, this reminds me of my very first date with your father."
Blake blinked. "You and Dad?"
Mom laughed lightly. "You say that with such surprise, as if you thought that he and I leapt straight into marriage."
"No, obviously not," Blake said. "I just … I've never really … I suppose it didn't help that by the time I was old enough to think about you and Dad getting together, you'd already gone to Menagerie."
Mom smiled and drew Blake in a little closer to her. "Your father wasn't quite the leader of the White Fang at the time; that would come a little later, although he was important. He'd come to meet with Sienna, who was still a professor at the University of Mistral at the time. And I was her teaching assistant."
"You were a TA to Sienna—?" Twilight began, before she was hushed by Rainbow.
Mom bowed her head a moment as she laughed some more. "When he met me … it seemed incredible that this tongue-tied man standing in front of me with his face turning red could be a leading figure in the White Fang, the future of the movement. I mean, how was he going to make a speech when he couldn't even say two words to me? But he kept coming back, day after day, to meet with Sienna. It was on about the fifth or sixth day that Sienna told me that he hadn't had anything new to say or ask her about faunus history or her thoughts on the political situation since the second day at most and that he either repeated himself or … asked about me. And so, when he came on the seventh day, I said to him, 'you know, if you want to ask me out, you should just go ahead and do it.'"
Blake smiled. "And what did Dad say?"
"He stood there, in front of me, looking down at me, and after a moment's silence, he said, 'Well, how about it?'" Mom chuckled. "And I told him to pick me up at seven. Which he did. Only it turned out that he didn't have anything planned; poor boy had been so nervous that he hadn't booked a restaurant, he hadn't thought about where we'd go … he said he hadn't wanted to lock me into something that I wouldn't like, but … well, as with tonight, we found that because we weren't locked into anything, there weren't any doors that would open. And, as tonight I'm afraid to say, the fact that we were two faunus certainly didn't help."
Blake's brow furrowed a little bit. "So what did you do?"
"A moonlit picnic," Mom said. "We bought a couple of boxes of noodles from a ramen stand and found this delightful spot overlooking one of the waterfalls. And so we sat there, in the dark, watching the moonlight dapple on the water, listening to it babble by, looking at the city down below. Nice meals in classy establishments are all very well, but sometimes, all you need are noodles and good company."
There were smiles on every face as she said that. Starlight put an arm on Trixie's shoulder around her neck, drawing her in slightly. Twilight leaned against Rainbow's side.
Sun reached out to take Blake's hand.
"You know," Sun said, "I think I might know a place where we can go."
They couldn't find a noodle stand, but they did find a van parked on the side of the road that was selling burgers, hot dogs, and fries, and so, they bought polythene boxes filled with warm, greasy burgers, the fat of which was turning the boxes wet and soggy from the inside out — regular burgers, cheeseburgers, bacon cheeseburgers, hot dogs, fries, fries with cheese, macaroni cheese, some of them had more than one box, piled up in their arms as they followed Sun through the streets, under the lights of streetlamps and under the much higher lights of the airships flying above, following him down to the docks, down to the very waterfront.
The very waterfront where they'd met.
"Moonlight on the water," he declared, gesturing out to sea, where it was possible to see the moonlight like silver, like seafoam, topping the waves as they rose and fell, rose and fell, pulling outwards from the city, out towards the open ocean.
Out, like the first faunus called to the island by the God of Animals, if you believed in such things.
"Moonlight on the water," Twilight repeated. "It's lovely."
"Yes," Mom agreed. "Yes, it certainly is."
And so they sat down on the waterfront, some of them sitting on the metal railings, some of them sitting behind but with their legs dangling out above the water, all of them just sitting on the waterfront, eating burgers and hotdogs and fries, keeping one eye open for seagulls.
"If we keep our eyes open," Sun said, speaking very softly and very carefully, "we might see a mermaid."
"A what?" Blake asked.
"You know, a mermaid!" Sun cried. "A huge sea cow that lives … you know, in the sea. They're grey, they have a big flipper on their backs, they sing beautiful songs out in the ocean to entertain sailors … or lure them to their deaths, I can't remember which one it is, but they live underwater, and they mostly come out at night. Mostly."
"That sounds like a myth," Twilight said.
"I've heard sailors tell stories about them," Sun insisted. "Do you think they were all making it up or something?"
"I can believe it," Sunset added. "There are a lot of things in the oceans."
The waves rolled high and low, and the moonlight fell upon them.
"Mooooo!" Trixie called out, attempting to deepen her voice. "Mooooo! I am a sea cow, and I can't decide if I want to please you or eat you! Moooooo!"
"Moooooeeeeeeeoooooo!" The sea cried back, or at least a voice from the sea, a voice that was both high pitched and low, a voice that rolled like the waves themselves, echoing out of the darkness towards them.
Trixie let out a startled, wordless cry of shock as she toppled backwards off the railing and landed on her backside. She scrambled backwards a couple of feet. "What … what the—?"
"It's a mermaid!" Sun cried. "Just like the sailors' stories!"
"Moooooeeeeeeeoooo!"
Those who were sitting got to their feet, and all of them — aside from Trixie — stood at the rails, looking out across the dark but moonlit water, hoping for a glimpse of this creature Sun had spoken of, this thing that Twilight had dismissed but which was apparently very real and calling out to them.
Blake could see nothing. Her eyes were better attuned to the darkness than most, but she could see nothing. Nothing but the water.
"I wish I had my goggles with me," Rainbow muttered.
"I don't know; I think it might be better this way," Sunset replied. "A few mysteries make the world feel a little larger, don't you think?"
"No," Twilight said. "We should strive to solve mysteries, to understand all things—"
"And when you understand everything, then what?" Sunset asked. "Where's the wonder, where's the excitement, where's the novelty? You'd be bored. There is nothing that this mermaid out there could look like that would match what our imaginations conjure up. I like to think it has horns."
"'Horns'?" Twilight said.
"Bulls have horns," Sunset pointed out.
"Okay, okay, leave the mermaids for a second; I've got something to say," Rainbow declared, turning to look down the rest of the ground where they were lined up against the railing. "We are all here tonight — with aching feet but full stomachs at last — because of one person: Blake.
"We've all fought alongside her. We've all seen her in action, and we've all seen that she is someone who never gives less than one hundred and ten percent to the job. Sometimes, that scares us, who care about her, but I don't think that it's ever failed to impress us a little bit, even more than the skill with which she fights.
"It's easy to fight for a place that's treated you well. It's harder, I think it must be a lot harder, to look at a place that hasn't treated you as well as you deserve and still see its good points and decide to fight for it anyway and to fight for it so well.
"I know that we don't have glasses to raise, or even cups, but nevertheless, I'd like you all to raise them in spirit to Blake Belladonna, Atlas' hope and Menagerie's glory. To Blake!"
"Because God would have it so, it seems," Ciel replied.
Neon's eyes narrowed, even as she contrived to look at Ciel out the side of them. "I meant why are we on this rooftop?"
"I know," Ciel said, calmly and almost casually.
Neon was silent for a moment. "Are you in a funny mood?"
"No," Ciel said firmly. "Why would I be in such a thing?"
"I don't know; why won't you answer a simple question?" asked Neon.
Ciel sighed. "I apologise," she murmured. "It was … an impatient answer in the least. The correct answer to your question is that we are here because from here I can see Benni Haven's through the scope of Distant Thunder."
To prove the point, she hefted the rifle up and raised it to her shoulder, looking through the scope down upon the restaurant below. She and Neon were stood on the roof of one of Beacon's dormitories, the dorm room used by the first year Beacon students, in point of fact. Ciel believed that directly below them was the room of Team WWSR. It was a good vantage point, with a view of the CCT tower across the campus, the courtyards below, and of course, the restaurant just beyond the school boundaries.
She had a bird's eye view of half the school from up here.
"Okay," Neon said. She crouched down at the edge of the roof, her legs spread apart and her elbows resting on her knees. She had a telescope in one hand, a boxy instrument like an old-fashioned video camera, and she raised it briefly to one eye as if to confirm that she, too, had eyes on the restaurant, before she lowered it. "So why do you want to see the diner through your scope? And why do you need a spotter?"
"Because Amber is going there tonight, and I'm going to cover her," Ciel replied. "And you are going to spot for me."
"Am I?"
"Do you have anything better to do?" Ciel asked.
"Oh, wound me, why don't you, prod at my bruises?" Neon whined theatrically. "No, no, I don't have anything better to do because I am confined to campus, as you well know." She paused. "You, on the other hand, what are you doing up here? Why aren't you down in Vale with Dashie and Blake and Blake's mom?"
"Someone has to watch over Amber," Ciel replied.
"Why?" asked Neon. "Sure, she's Professor Ozpin's niece, three cheers for nepotism, but so what? If he wants to have her protected, he should put his hand in his pocket and hire a bodyguard, but okay, fine, he's cheap, so he gets some of his students to do it for him, but you're not a Beacon student, so why are you standing up here with your gun, ready to watch over her when she shows herself?"
Because she is one of the most important girls alive in the world today, Ciel thought. Not that she could say that to Neon, obviously. She glanced down at the drop off the roof. Just another step, and she would be in for rather a fall. Her aura would not like it, to say the least.
"You know," Ciel said softly, "it occurs to me that Team Wisteria below can probably hear everything that we are saying."
Neon looked down. "You think so?"
"It is not so far to their window, I believe," Ciel said.
Neon paused for a moment, before she called down, "Yo, Team Wisteria, can you hear us?"
"Yeah," replied a voice that sounded like Russel Thrush. "We can hear everything."
"Then shut the window and cover your ears; this is private!" Neon yelled.
"It's our room!" Russel cried.
"So what, it isn't your rooftop!" Neon snapped. She glanced at Ciel. "There, you were saying? Not that I honestly think that you would be about to say anything that you would be embarrassed by other people hearing. Unless you would."
"I very much hope not," Ciel said dryly.
"So?" Neon demanded. "What's the answer? Why are you up here?"
"I am here because my duties do not cease to apply just because someone is not an Atlesian; Amber needs help," Ciel said. "She has been attacked once; she may be attacked again, for all we know."
"So it wasn't grimm who attacked her the first time," Neon said. "I thought it must be, to have given her those…" — she mimed swiping a set of claws across her own face — "to remember them by, but you wouldn't be worried about grimm coming back for her, not here. For that matter, you wouldn't be worried about bandits coming back for her. Yeah, sure, I could see that someone might try and grab Professor Ozpin's niece on the road, hold her for ransom, but here? At Beacon? They'd be nuts."
Ciel was somewhat inclined to agree; to attack Amber here, at Beacon, would rash even by the standards of Cinder and her allies, foolish even. Their chances of getting away with it would be low, verging upon nonexistent. Nevertheless, that only held so long as Amber's protectors did not grow overconfident. If they relaxed their watch here, then, conversely, they would make Beacon the most dangerous place for Amber to be.
"Only if, and because, we keep our guards up," she said.
"What's so important about her?" Neon asked. "What makes her so special?"
Ciel thought about Sunset's advice, to just tell Neon everything and hang the consequences. It was … tempting, in all honesty. She had known Neon Katt longer than anyone at Atlas or Beacon, longer than some of her own brothers. It was not easy to keep secrets from her, nor to justify why Ciel should know the truth but Neon should not. Neon was as valiant as Ciel was, and more skilled at close quarters — though Ciel could hardly fail to be a better shot. And yet, Ciel had been chosen, as much because she was on a team with Rainbow Dash as anything else. If Ciel could know, then why should Neon not? What right had Ciel to keep the truth from her?
I have the passive right of not having been granted permission to tell her.
I have the right of having been ordered to keep this to myself.
And if ever there was a moment to render to the king that which was his, surely, it was this one.
"General Ironwood has asked us to assist with Amber's security for the time being," Ciel said. "He has not said why, and it is his prerogative to make this request without explanation. It is little hardship for me in any case; I find Amber sweet; a little naïve, perhaps, something of an ingénue taken to the extreme, but nevertheless, it is little hardship."
"Even though you could be down in Vale right now, with Blake and Dashie, hobnobbing with the Lady of Menagerie?"
"Do you wish you were there?" Ciel asked. "I am sure you would have been invited, were you not—"
"Grounded."
"Indeed."
Neon shrugged. "What do I care about Menagerie? Mantle is my home, and unlike some … some faunus might dream of getting out and going to live on Menagerie, dipping their toes in the tropical sea, but not me. Not my family either. I think you'd have to drag Mom out of her house kicking and screaming, and you could follow the route to the airship to take her to the boat by the way her fingernails had been digging into the tarmac. For her, going to Menagerie would mean admitting that she'd failed in Mantle, and she'd never admit that."
"Your mother has no failure to admit to," Ciel said. "From cleaner to manager of a prestigious hotel, that is quite an accomplishment."
"I know, you don't have to tell me that," Neon said. She paused for a moment. "Do you … can I ask you something?"
"You can ask me anything, and I will answer it," Ciel said. "Within reason."
"Our going to Atlas Academy, it gets treated like this big thing," Neon said. "But, do you ever worry that, having gotten there, we won't turn out to be as nearly as impressive as our parents who worked so hard and sacrificed to get us there?"
"You are become philosophical."
"I'm sorry; it's the dark of the night," Neon replied. "It won't happen when the sun is up, I promise."
Ciel snorted. She hesitated. "Somewhat," she admitted. "You?"
"I wouldn't have brought it up if it hadn't crossed my mind," Neon said.
"All the more reason for us to aim high, no?" Ciel said. "Major Katt, of the … have any particular preference?"
"Hmm…" Neon mused. "No, I'm not too fussed. But what's this 'Major' business? Colonel Katt, if you please. And you can be my XO."
A smile played upon Ciel's face. "Can I? Well, thank you for that. I thought you were considering not joining the military?"
"I'm still considering it, considering not," Neon said. "But … it's all very well and all very worthy, but you need rank to feel like you've made it in the Kingdom of Atlas."
"And do you?" Ciel asked. "Want to feel like you have made it?"
"I mean, I wouldn't mind it," Neon replied. "What's the point of being as awesome as me if nobody knows you are? I haven't made up my mind, but if I did … it would repay all of Mom's hard work, and Dad's too, all those nights driving taxis." She paused. "But yeah, to answer your original question, I don't want to go and hang out with Blake's mom; she's nothing to me. You?"
"If she is so little to you, what should she be to me?" Ciel asked. "Besides, if I had gone down to dinner tonight, who would have kept you company?"
Neon's eyebrows rose, but she smiled, or looked as though she might smile, or looked in fact as though she were struggling not to smile, all the same.
"When's Amber going to show herself then?"
Ciel checked the time on her watch, the silver one on this occasion. "It's almost time," she said.
XxXxX
Pyrrha clasped her hands together. "Oh, Amber, you look wonderful!"
Amber looked down, her gaze sweeping up the borrowed dress she wore. "Really? Do you think so?"
"I really do," Pyrrha insisted. "I would not say it if I didn't mean it. It suits you."
Amber smiled bashfully, even as she said, "Not as well as it suited you, I'm sure."
"It was made for me, but I don't think that there is too much in it," Pyrrha replied. "Red as a colour doesn't demand anything to match, thankfully. Although I am sorry that we didn't think to get you a few additions to your own wardrobe when we were in Vale."
"It's alright," Amber assured her. "I mean … what would have been the point?"
Pyrrha felt as though she knew what Amber meant, but nevertheless, as her brow furrowed beneath her circlet, she felt compelled to ask, "What do you mean?"
"I mean…" Amber trailed off for a moment. "That when this time is over, this tournament … Ozpin is going to lock me away in the darkness, in some lonely place where there is no one and no one can find me. What am I going to do with gowns and dresses then? What occasions will I have to wear them, what parties will I attend, what reason will I ever have to dress up?"
"For yourself?" Pyrrha suggested. "For your own pleasure, your own happiness, because it makes you feel beautiful and happy, is that not reason enough?" She paused. "Or, if that is not enough for you, then you must have a dress for when you visit Mistral, and I shall take you to the palace as my guest, I insist upon it."
Amber smiled, but her smile had something melancholy about it; it did not reach her eyes, or if it did, it sparked no light of joy in them that suffused radiance in her face. "You don't need to pretend, Pyrrha," she murmured, turning away from Pyrrha with a swish of her red dress, the skirt rustling as Amber retreated to the window seat, sitting down there with her back to the curtains and her hands resting between her legs. The golden bands upon her wrists glimmered softly in the artificial light within.
"You don't need to pretend," she repeated. "I'm not going to Mistral, or Atlas either, or anywhere else; Ozpin won't allow it."
"Ozpin, Professor Ozpin, is not your master," Pyrrha replied, walking towards her, sitting down upon her own bed, close enough to Amber to reach out for her, although she refrained from doing so right way. "He may not say where you may go, or not go; he does not own you. If you wish to come to my city—"
"I do," Amber said quickly, before carrying on just as swiftly, before Pyrrha could say anything, "but at the same time … although I don't like Ozpin, although I don't want to be stuffed away like the bride in the old oak chest, I … I can't … I don't … I'm scared, Pyrrha. I'm scared of Salem, I'm scared of Cinder, I'm scared of what's out there, and I … I don't want to fight, I don't want to be attacked, I don't want to be in danger, and if that means that I have to hide in the darkness, then … then I'll do it. I'm not brave enough to stand in the light if that puts me in peril." She paused. "I'm sorry."
"'Sorry'?" Pyrrha repeated. "Sorry for what? What have you to be sorry about? If you do not wish to visit Mistral, that is your decision; I have no right to drag you there any more than Professor Ozpin has to leash you. But if you are worried, I do not say that you are not right to be worried, in your position—"
"I'm sure in my position you'd be very brave," Amber said. "I'm sure that you'd go exactly where you wanted to, no matter the risk."
"Is that bravery or foolhardiness?" asked Pyrrha. "Some would say I have been both, at one time or another, but deny that they are one and the same." Now it was her turn to pause. "What I was going to say was that … if you went to Ciel or Rainbow Dash, perhaps even Blake, they would tell you that Atlas is the safest city in Remnant, guarded by a ceaseless vigil."
"And you?" asked Amber. "Would you tell me the same of Mistral?"
"I would not be so bold," Pyrrha said, "but our swords are sharp, and our hearts are valiant, and I think that there is little chance that Cinder, or any agent of Salem, will attack you in the middle of the street in a great city."
Amber bowed her head. "I wish this power had never come to me. Then Dove and I could go wherever we wanted, see whatever we wanted, live however we wanted. I wish that I didn't have to be afraid, that I didn't have to look over my shoulder, that I didn't need to be guarded all the time. I wish that I could go out to eat without Ciel watching over me with a big gun, I wish…"
"That you might be away from this war, and live unchanging after?" Pyrrha guessed. "There are many who would share your sentiments."
"Even you?" asked Amber.
"I … I must prove my merit and earn the adulation that is bestowed upon me with great deeds," Pyrrha said. "Yet even I…" Now she reached out and took Amber's hands in her own. "If I could take this burden from you, I would so, in a heartbeat, and so would many others here, I know. But, since we cannot … we must find what joy we can in the lives that have been granted to us." She got up and pulled Amber to her feet also, putting a smile upon her face. "So come on," she said. "No more of such sad talk, not tonight. We are too lovely to be sad, no, and with too much to smile about."
Amber giggled. "I … yes, yes, I suppose we do. After all, I'm safe here, and you're here, and Dove and Jaune aren't far away, and … and I'm awake. And I'm alive, and I … there are no shadows here. I'm surrounded by lights that keep them all away. Thank you, again, for the dress."
"It was no trouble," Pyrrha assured her. "In fact, I'll go so far as to say that it was my pleasure."
Amber was wearing one of Pyrrha's red dresses, the one in the Mistralian style that she had worn on her last night in Alba Longa, the dress with the golden belt around the waist, the golden detailing around the chest, the band of gold that seemed to support Amber's bust and run upwards to the swooping collar, the dress with the sleeves that had been slit open so that they hardly seemed like sleeves at all, falling down the sides of the bodice and the skirt while leaving Amber's shoulders and arms bare to the world.
Amber had exchanged the vambrace on her left arm for one of Pyrrha's moderately large gold bracelets, while on her right arm, she had stacked her existing bracelets above the one that she had borrowed from Pyrrha.
It was perhaps not the gown that, of all the dresses Pyrrha owned, would absolutely suit Amber the best, but Pyrrha thought that the gown of hers that would best suit Amber's complexion and the shade of her eyes was the gold ballgown that was embroidered with so many white camellias, and while Pyrrha was not averse to dressing up simply because you wished to do, because it would please you to look pleasing to the eye, there probably had to be some limits.
And putting on a full ballgown adorned with so many flowers that it looked as though they were bursting out of the bodice probably pushed a little over those limits.
Besides, while it might not be the best, the red dress suited her very well.
Amber had also borrowed one of Pyrrha's necklaces, the heavy gold one that she had worn to the Mistralian embassy, the three bands of gold and the three ingots hanging from it shaped roughly like arrows. The emeralds didn't really go with anything, but that was going to be an unavoidable issue with a lot of things that Amber borrowed from Pyrrha.
"How are you finding the skirt?" Pyrrha asked, because of course the trouble with Amber borrowing one of Pyrrha's dresses was that Pyrrha was rather taller than Amber was, so they had had to take up the hem of the skirt a little with safety pins so that Amber could walk without tripping over the dress. Ciel and Ruby had, before they departed to take up their respective sentry posts, done a very good job in hiding said safety pins from the casual eye, so that if Pyrrha hadn't known they were there, she would never have, well, known they were there.
Nevertheless, she wanted to be sure that the skirt had been taken up enough.
"It's fine," Amber assured her. She smiled, and this time, her smile reached her eyes, and even seemed to soften what little of her scars could be seen beneath the makeup that Ciel had helped Amber apply. "You look very lovely yourself, by the way. That's a gorgeous cape."
"Thank you," Pyrrha said. "I'm rather fond of this one." She was wearing the black and green dress that she had worn to accompany Jaune to Alba Longa on the first day, the black bodice with the green skirt and the forest green cape that covered her neck and shoulders before falling down her back. Like Amber, she wore a pair of golden bracelets on her wrists, and like Amber, she had painted her nails golden.
Or rather, Amber had painted Pyrrha's nails, and Pyrrha had painted Amber's. It had been rather enjoyable.
"It's a very nice cape," Amber repeated. "Perhaps I should wear mine?"
"You could, of course," Pyrrha said, "but I'm not sure how well the green would go with the red of the dress."
"Mmm, you're probably right," Amber admitted. She hesitated. "This … it is alright, isn't it? I mean, it isn't too much?"
"Probably it is," Pyrrha admitted, a little laughter in her voice. "But what of that? If we enjoy the way we look, who should tell us that we are wrong?"
"Joy, while we can," Amber said softly.
"Exactly," Pyrrha agreed. "Now, I believe our—"
The door opened, revealing Jaune and Dove on the other side.
"Perfect timing," Pyrrha declared, turning to face them both, her green cape swirling around her as she turned.
The two boys were more casually dressed than the two girls, in different ways, which was not a mark against them, to be sure; if they were comfortable, then there was no need to observe a dress code of any kind, any more than there was any need for the girls to show except that they wished to do so.
Jaune wore a very bright yellow t-shirt, with his orange detachable sleeves covering more of his arms, and a similarly orange shirt — button up, but short-sleeved — worn over the top of it, the buttons undone to reveal the yellow t-shirt underneath. His trousers were white-grey, like his now-absent armour, and on his feet, he wore his usual trainers. Around his waist, he wore a red sash, shorter than Pyrrha's — it did not come near the floor — but long enough to reach his knees regardless, wrapped around his belt in a serpentine fashion as well as being tied off on the right hand side.
Dove, on the other hand, was dressed entirely in subdued colours, in shades of grey and black and brown. He wore a grey-brown tunic, somewhat long, descending past his waist all the way to his thighs, clasped about the waist with a black belt whose brass buckle provided perhaps the only colour in the outfit; the collar, shoulders and sleeves were black, with the collar being open and turned downwards at the tips. His trousers were brown, and accompanied by a pair of dark brown boots reaching almost to his knees.
"Dove," Amber gasped, "that's—"
"What I was wearing when we met," Dove confirmed, stepping into the room. "Yes, it seemed … right." He smiled. "That, and I wasn't really sure about the puffy shoulders on the outfit Lyra and Bon Bon wanted to put me in."
Amber snorted and giggled lightly at the same time, half-covering her mouth with one hand as she did so, "Well, now you've got me intrigued."
"Really?" Dove murmured. "I suppose I shall have to wear it then at some point, won't I?" His voice was reluctant, but the smile on his face gave him away as he crossed the room to stand in front of Amber. "You look beautiful," he said, reaching out to brush his knuckles across her face.
Amber reached up and clasped his hand in both her own. "Pyrrha's been very kind, lending me her dress."
Dove glanced at Pyrrha for a moment, but said nothing.
"Hey, Dove, take a step back for a second," Jaune said, getting out his scroll and holding it up. "Let me get a picture of the two of them."
Dove, obediently and without argument, retreated out of the way, leaving the field between Jaune on one side of the room and Pyrrha and Amber on the other, clear.
"Okay, now close up a little," Jaune instructed. "Um, Pyrrha, you might want to bend down a little bit so I can get you both in the shot clearly."
Pyrrha chuckled and did as she was bade, putting one arm around Amber's waist — and feeling Amber do likewise — as the two of them closed up together, shoulder to, well, side due to the height difference between them. Pyrrha bent down, arcing her body sideways so that her head came down level with Amber's, or near enough, even if at a slight angle.
"Perfect," Jaune said. "Now smile."
The two of them beamed, for though there were many shadows in the world, this was a moment of light, and all the more to be appreciated because of the shadows that lay about.
"Got it," Jaune said, before he turned his scroll lengthwise. "Now let me just get a full-length shot … and got that too."
"Send me a copy, will you?" Dove asked.
"Sure thing; I'll do it after dinner if that's okay."
"Fine by me," Dove replied. He paused for a moment. "Do you feel underdressed?"
"That is not my intent, I assure you," Pyrrha said. "This for my, for our benefit, not your obligation. So long as you're comfortable, that's all that matters."
"And besides," Jaune added, a touch of amusement in his voice, "I always feel a little underdressed, standing next to Pyrrha."
"Well," Amber said, "in picture books, when the prince and princess stand next to each other, or dance, does anyone really care what the prince is wearing?" She paused a moment. "Although," she added, "you're wearing a sash, Jaune."
One of Jaune's hands strayed down to the aforementioned sash. "Yeah."
"And Pyrrha, you … well, you're not wearing one now, but you usually do," Amber said. "And Jaune, I … have I seen you wearing that before?"
"Um, maybe, yeah," Jaune replied. "Why?"
Amber smiled, a smile that hovered somewhere between smug and sweet. "Which of you started wearing it first, and which one of you did it to match?"
"Oh, that was me," Jaune said, a little touch of colour rising to his cheeks, "I mean, I came second. You see—"
"That is a story," Pyrrha said, "which might be told at the table."
"Right," Jaune agreed. "I mean, we're ready if you are."
"We're ready," Amber said, taking Pyrrha's arm just below the elbow, even as she offered her other hand to Dove.
Dove took it, even as Jaune fell in on the free side of Pyrrha, taking her hand inside his own.
And so they departed, leaving the dorm room and proceeding down the corridors and stairs, sometimes having to break or disrupt their line in the process, until they passed out of the dormitory altogether and into the cool night air.
As they walked away, crossing the courtyard and heading across the campus in the direction of Benni Haven's, Pyrrha glanced upwards and back at the dorm. She could not see Ciel, but she fancied that she did catch a glint of moonlight upon the scope of Distant Thunder, telling her that Ciel was there and watching over them.
As like as not, it was her imagination, but she knew that the Atlesian girl would be there, regardless. She was a woman of her word, after all.
She's being extraordinarily decent, Pyrrha thought. I shall have to make it up to her somehow.
Although I'm not sure how.
I could always start by asking her; perhaps she will not disdain gratitude.
And so, under the gun of the watching Ciel, they left the school — just about, not going so far that Professor Ozpin's tighter strictures about Amber's protection needed to be observed, or else Pyrrha and Jaune would have had to go armed, with less opportunity to dress up — and approached the old hunting lodge with the neon sign upon the roof.
The old hunting lodge that was now surrounded — at least in front — by a forest of outdoor tables and chairs, sprawling out on either side of the cinder path, covering the grass that grew before the wooden walls of Benni Haven's.
Benni herself was outside, her tail curled up at the tip, putting out even more tables and chairs. She unfolded and put down the last chair of the four that she had been holding and turned around as they reached the path.
Benni put her prosthetic hand upon her hip. "Now, what are a pair of pretty girls like you doing at a dive like this?" she asked.
"Aha, hoping for a table," Pyrrha said, a slight wince in her voice as she began to worry that, yes, they were overdressed.
Benni spread her arms out, gesturing at the sea of tables all around her, and all of them empty. "Well, as you can see, there are plenty of 'em," she said, "but there's also plenty of room inside, which you might prefer."
"It might be a little warmer inside," Pyrrha said. The four of them began to walk down the path towards the door. "If you don't mind me asking, what are you doing?"
"Temporarily expanding my business," Benni declared. "As you'll know as well as anyone, the Vytal Tournament is right around the corner, which means everyone and their three kids will be descending on Beacon to watch the fights. But where are they going to eat when they get up here, are they going to fly back down to Vale? No, they're going to come to Benni Haven's, that's where they're gonna go. I've got a captive market."
"Isn't there food served at the fairgrounds?" asked Jaune.
"Yeah, but have you ever tried the fairground food?" asked Benni. "Take it from me, it's terrible. Trust me, I'm going to clean up. Hence the extra seating capacity. I've even taken on a couple of extra hands to help out in the kitchen. And I've got Rowlf to bring that Benni Haven's atmosphere outside too."
She gestured towards a fake grimm that it took Pyrrha a moment to identify as a sabyr, a species of grimm native — insofar as that word could be applied to the grimm — to Solitas, a sleek, catlike grimm that walked on all fours, with a sharp, icy white skull and what looked like shards of ice growing out of its black fur amidst the bony spines. Sabyrs, from what Pyrrha had read, typically had two sabre-teeth descending down from their upper jaws, but Rowlf only had one, the other looking as though it had been cracked off.
Around his neck, there hung a sign saying Children Please Ride On Me.
"Has Beacon had the Vytal Festival since you opened this place up?" Jaune asked.
"No, that was the year I lost my arm," Benni said as she walked towards them. "I watched the final from a hospital bed. I didn't buy this place until the next year, when I'd worked out what I wanted to do next. But this has already been the best year for this place since I opened up, on account of all the students from Atlas, Haven, and Shade, so I'm pretty sure I'm right that this is going to be big." She paused. "Anyway, you want to get inside and get something to eat, not stand out here listening to me yammer on. We've got special Vytal Festival menus you should try." She paused again, her eyes lingering on Amber. "You know, I know Dove, I know Jaune, and I know Pyrrha, but I don't know you."
"Amber," Amber said quietly. "My name is Amber Briarrose."
Benni smiled. "Nice to meet you, Amber, my name's Benni, Benni Haven, it's my name on the roof." She held out her prosthetic hand.
Amber regarded the artificial limb warily; Pyrrha wondered if she had ever seen the like before. Raised where she had been, there was a good chance that the answer to that was no; it was the kind of medical technology that had not yet spread outside of the big cities, and even then, unless you were wealthy or well-connected — or had wealthy or well-connected friends — there was a good chance that you would wait and long in vain for such a device as that. Such, at least, was the case in Mistral — that was why Pyrrha had been honoured to help the Asclepius Institute in any way she could — it was perhaps different in Atlas, but in Vale? Benni did not seem to be particularly wealthy or well-connected, but she had been a huntress; perhaps they got preferential treatment.
Or perhaps it was simply better in Vale.
In any case, Pyrrha judged it likely that Amber had not seen a limb quite like hers before.
Amber took Benni's offered hand, but tentatively, as if she feared that Benni's grip might crush her bones. "It's nice to meet you too," she said quietly.
Benni shook her hand gently. "So," she said, ignoring Amber's uncertainty around her arm, "what team are you on, and why's it taken you so long to get down here to Benni Haven's, huh?"
"Amber isn't a huntress," Pyrrha explained. "She's our guest at Beacon for a little while."
"Oh," Benni said, showing only the smallest amount of surprise and no real curiosity. She glanced at Dove, and her eyes seemed to find Amber's hand in the crook of his arm. "Oh." Her eyes widened. "Hey, wait a second! For weeks at the start of this year, I had you and Lyra and Bon Bon coming in, and you were talking about some chick; you asked me if I'd seen her, is she—?"
"Yes," Dove said, unable to keep the smile off his face as he placed his free hand on top of Amber's. "Yes, this is she. This is Amber."
Benni grinned as she put both hands on her hips. "Well, I'll be damned." She fell silent for a moment, opening her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but then saying nothing. "You know, it doesn't matter." She shook her head. "Congratulations, kiddo; you know, that explains something. Anyway, as I said, you don't want to be standing out here, so go right in, pick any table you want; I'll be right behind you."
Amber and Dove temporarily split up from Jaune and Pyrrha, the four parting to flow around Benni, who reached out to tousle Dove's hair indulgently as he went by, repeating her congratulations to him.
"You know her?" Amber asked.
Dove nodded. "Everyone knows her, and not just because she owns this place, but because she goes out of her way to know us too. She's great. It's like having an aunt who lives right outside the school."
"I heard that!" Benni called to them. "Call me Auntie or Aunt Benni, and you'll be banned for life!"
Dove laughed as Jaune pushed open the door and the four of them stepped inside, greeted as always by Fluffy, snarling affably at the door as he held out his paws to swipe — or hug — anyone who crossed the threshold.
Ruby and Penny were already seated in the corner of the restaurant, Ruby nursing a cup of some sort of hot drink — Pyrrha could see the steam rising from the large cup but couldn't make out what was in said cup — while Penny had a bag of crisps open on the table in front of her.
On the table in between them sat a boardgame that looked to be set in some sort of jungle from the looks of it.
Pyrrha couldn't see Crescent Rose, but she knew that Ruby would have it with her; she, like Ciel, was helping to keep Amber safe tonight, as indeed was Penny.
Ruby raised one hand towards them as they came in, which prompted Penny, with her back to the door, to turn and wave to them also.
"Salutations, everyone!" she called out.
"Good evening, Penny," Amber said. "Ruby."
"Hey," Ruby said. "It's your roll, Penny."
"Oh, right," Penny said, picking up the dice and rolling it across the board. She sounded disappointed as she announced, "Five." She picked up a blue piece and began to move it across the squares of the board, bearing down upon a red piece just up ahead. "One, two, three, four," she paused, the blue piece in Penny's hand hovering over the red piece.
"Five," Ruby prompted.
"But I don't want to knock you off the board," Penny complained. "You haven't got any of your other pieces off the basecamp."
"Neither do you, Penny, so you can't move any other piece than that one," Ruby told her.
Penny pouted. "I don't see why we can't cooperate to get out of this jungle."
Ruby chuckled. "You know, knocking me off the board used to be Yang's favourite part of this game."
"Hello, Lyra," Dove said. "Bon Bon."
His words drew Pyrrha's attention to the fact that, yes, Lyra and Bon were there, sat not facing one another but side by side, facing the door even though they were sat near the back of the restaurant, in a position to see all of it.
Despite the fact that they were both facing the door, nevertheless, Lyra feigned a look of surprise. "Hey there, guys! Fancy seeing you here."
Dove's eyebrows rose. "You knew I was coming here. I told you."
"And we decided to come as well, since it's a free kingdom," Bon Bon said. "To eat dinner and not to rubberneck in any way, shape, or form."
Dove muttered wordlessly, but Amber looked amused as the four of them walked towards a table in the middle of the restaurant.
"You have very good friends," Amber said.
"I know," Dove agreed. "But don't tell them that, for goodness' sake."
Benni came in as they sat down, and told them, "I'll be right there with the menus," before she walked to grab them from the back of the house, returning swiftly with both the regular menus and the Vytal Festival menus, printed on colourful green card with a picture of the Amity Colosseum upon the front, floating high up in the sky with clouds all around it.
"I'll give you a second to take a look," Benni said.
"Thanks," Jaune replied.
"Hey, Ruby, Penny, you two figured out what you want yet?" Benni asked, bustling over to their table.
"Can we start with a sharing bowl of Friendship Fries, and can I get a side of mac and cheese?" asked Ruby.
"Coming right up," Benni said, taking the notepad out from one pocket of her apron and jotting down Ruby's order in it as she walked away.
Amber stared down at the special menu, the tips of her fingers running over the image of the Amity Arena.
"It's flying," she murmured.
"Indeed," Pyrrha said. "That is where the chosen contestants will compete in the Vytal Tournament, a flying colosseum capable of travelling from one kingdom to another under its own power. It's … a marvel of the modern age."
She opened up the menu; it unfolded from the centre, revealing an interior that was designed to look like the interior of the arena, complete with silhouetted figures battling at the bottom of the page. A lot of the items on the menu looked to be very similar to the items on the main menu, only with Vytal references in their names like All Day Breakfast of Champions, the Two-on-Two Round Burger — two burger patties, each with two rashers of maple-cured bacon on top — or the Friendship Fries that Ruby had just ordered. However, there did appear to be some slight difference in what made up the breakfast, the seasoning on the fries, that sort of thing.
"So that's what Arslan meant when she talked about the Colosseum arriving, so that you could do your filming?" Amber asked.
"Yes, I remember that too," Dove said. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you making a documentary?"
"I'm not making it; Arslan and I are merely presenting a little of it," Pyrrha said. "It's for Mistralian State Television, and I suppose they wanted a couple of famous faces associated with the tournament. Arslan did us a kindness last semester, and she asked me to repay her by doing this programme."
Amber nodded. "But you're starting tomorrow, even though the arena hasn't arrived yet?"
Pyrrha nodded. "It sounds as though we'll be doing some interviews — hopefully, the questions have been written for us — and talking to some of the other students about … well, what the Vytal Festival means to them, I suppose: glory for some, a celebration of peace for others, great honour or simply a respite from more serious battles, the chance to relax in a battle with rules instead of monsters or murderers." She smiled. "Or all of the above, as the case may be."
"Do you wish you were fighting, Dove?" Amber asked. "Do you wish that you could?"
"Yes," Dove admitted. "Yes, I do. Or at least, I did. I … I wished that I could have the chance to strut in front of the crowds and the cameras, to show my quality. But it's not to be, and it would have been … it would have verged on monstrous to have been upset about that when the reason for it was … well, it was the least of our worries once, and now…" He reached across the table and placed his hand on hers. "Now, it doesn't seem to really matter; there are so many more important things."
"You're right," Jaune said, "but it's the more important things that make having the break matter, almost."
Dove looked at him. "You're looking forward to it, then."
Jaune shrugged. "I know that I'm not going to progress past the four-on-four round, so it's not like I'm looking forward to lots of opportunities to show what I've got, but … would I like one chance to show how I've improved since I started out, to show my parents and my family that I'm not hopeless? Yeah, sure I would. I want them to see for themselves that I can handle myself, that I can do this. But more importantly, I want—"
"Pyrrha to succeed," Amber suggested.
Jaune chuckled. "Well, that, yeah," he agreed. "Obviously, I want to see you go as far as you can. If that's what you want."
"It is what my mother wants," Pyrrha murmured. "She has prepared me for this moment for more years of my life than not."
"But is it what you want?" Jaune pressed. "Or would you rather send Sunset through to the one-on-one round?"
Pyrrha's lips twitched upwards. "I fear that if that were suggested, Sunset would split in two, torn in half between her delight and her horror." She paused. "Actually … that would have been true, once, but now … I am not sure the desire for glory burns so strong in her now; in fact, I know that it does not. There might be a deal more horror than delight, especially when she thought about what my mother might say."
Pyrrha hesitated, clasping her hands together upon the table, gathering her thoughts.
"I am not free from pride," she confessed. "Nor vanity either. I am not so humble as I … for all that I have spoken of my dislike for my reputation, I am not without concern with it. If this is to be my last tournament, and it will be, then I would rather bow out a champion of champions, if such is within my grasp, than anything else. The truth is that I did not triumph in Mistral four times solely because my mother wished it so, but because I did not wish to suffer the sting of defeat. That desire, that reluctance, is as strong in me now as it has ever been."
Amber frowned. "You … enjoy it, then? Fighting?"
"In … in abstract, yes," Pyrrha said. "In the right conditions, the proper circumstances, when bounded by rules, guidelines, conventions of honour understood by both sides, then, yes. Perhaps I should not say so, but there is a beauty in the song of swords, a melody pleasing to the ear even when one's own life is at the hazard." She paused. "Of course, when there are more lives than one's own being ventured, then … then the beauty falls away, and there is little left but desperation."
"It's always desperate," Amber murmured, looking away from Pyrrha. "It's always desperate, and it's always awful, even when it is a game. Even then … it isn't."
At the moment, before Pyrrha or anyone else could reply to Amber's point, Benni returned and took their orders, providing a momentary distraction from the conversation. By the time that she had gone again, all their wants and desires written down upon her notepad, a silence lingered after her.
Amber rested one elbow on the table, her arm propped up, and leaned upon her hand. "So, Jaune," she said. "You were going to tell us what prompted you to start wearing that sash. Was it so you and Pyrrha would match?"
Jaune laughed. "Well, I mean … I wasn't exactly thinking of that." He took a breath. "Honestly, it isn't much of a story, really, and it's going to seem really anticlimactic now that you've waited for it, but … Pyrrha's always worn a sash, with her combat gear, I mean, for as long as I've known her." He looked at Pyrrha. "You can't see it on the cereal box, but the rest of your outfit is the same, so—"
"Yes," Pyrrha answered the question before he could ask it. "Yes, I wore it at that time; it was a gift from Chariclo."
"Chariclo, I can't take this."
"Why not? It is easy; you reach out with your hands and grasp for it. All those lessons with Chiron, and he hasn't taught you how to pick things up?"
Pyrrha laughed. "I mean … this cloth is very fine quality—"
"The best quality, as fine as any member of the Weaver's Guild could weave," Chariclo declared. "Do you think I would give you some ill-made rubbish that will fall apart in three weeks?"
"No, of course not," Pyrrha replied, marvelling at Chariclo's ability to put her on the back foot. She could only conclude it was a good thing that she spoke better with Miló than with her own tongue. "But, what I mean is, this must have been expensive."
Chariclo shrugged. "What is the point of being married to the most renowned tutor-in-arms in Mistral if you cannot afford a few expensive things from time to time?" she asked reasonably enough. "And from this bolt of expensive cloth, I make a tunic for my husband, which he does not appreciate, a dress and shawl for myself, which I appreciate, and with what remains, I make this sash for you, which you had better appreciate, or I will show you that I can still rap you across the knuckles, warrior or no."
Pyrrha could not help but laugh at that. "That … this is very generous," she said. "Too much so, I fear; it is not for you to give me gifts, who have done so much for me ever since I was a babe. I should be the one giving you gifts to repay all your service, all your kindness."
"I will take my repayment in your living a good life," Chariclo said. "And not as my husband means it: honour, glory, fah!" She waved one hand dismissively. "Be happy, my child, and come back safe from all your battles." She reached out and tapped the new honour band that Pyrrha wore upon her left arm. "You took a gift from Chiron."
"That was tradition."
"And if you refuse me this, it will be an insult," Chariclo said. "And you would not refuse old Chariclo, would you? Not when I am so old and have so little left to live for?"
Again, Pyrrha could not help but laugh, covering her mouth with one hand. "You have many years left in you, I have no doubt," she said. More years, perhaps, than I do, the life of a huntress being what it is. "But I will take this gift, with all gratitude and humility, for all that I hardly feel I deserve it." She reached out, and as Chariclo had first bidden her, she took the sash in both her hands. "I swear that I will bear this proudly and do honour to you by my deeds in wearing it."
"Chariclo," Amber repeated. "Who is Chariclo?"
"My nurse, when I was a little girl," Pyrrha explained. "Her husband, Chiron, taught me all I know of combat, of spear and sword and gun. And while he taught me, Chariclo continued to care for me much as she had done, to feed me and clothe me." She smiled, a tad bashfully, a little colour rising to her cheeks. "I fear she spoiled me a little, compared to the other children in Chiron's charge. She … made it a very happy time." Before I became famous.
"Is she going to watch you in the Vytal Festival?" asked Jaune.
"I think that is more likely than not," Pyrrha said mildly. "She used to send me cards whenever I won the Mistral tournament."
"She sounds lovely," Amber said. "I wonder … I wonder how Blake is getting on with her mother."
"Well, I hope," Pyrrha said.
"Have they really not seen one another for years?" Dove asked. "I can't imagine that, not if they're both alive. Just … not talking, not seeing each other, not writing to one another, nothing? No contact at all?"
"Sometimes, you have to get away," Jaune said. "Sometimes, it just doesn't seem like there's a way forward, it just looks like there's no choice at all but to go separate ways."
"But for years?" Dove asked. "For years?"
"Blake is filled with righteousness and passionate intensity," Pyrrha said quietly. "I think that, for her, leaving her family behind would be, however hard a price it was to pay, a price worth paying in the service of a higher goal. And, while it appears that Blake's mother was blameless in whatever rift might be said to have formed between them, it is not always so. Sometimes, a child has good reason to turn away from their mother."
"But even you turned back towards her, didn't you, Pyrrha?" Amber asked. "That's why she's coming tomorrow?"
"Yes," Pyrrha murmured. "Yes, she is. But that was … I would not have done so if she had not at least signalled a willingness to admit her wrongdoing." She looked at Jaune. "Jaune, are you going to be alright meeting her tomorrow; if you'd rather not, I'm sure that Sunset will be alright on her—"
"It's fine," Jaune said.
"Because I realise that it was rather presumptuous to ask, because in a way, you were rather more insulted by what she did than even I was, and she hasn't apologised to you—"
"It's fine."
"So if you'd rather not see her, or even that I—"
"Pyrrha," Jaune said, his voice rising above her own as he reached across the table to take her hands. "It's fine," he said, for the third time and in the heaviest manner possible. "I told you, I don't want to be the reason why you don't talk to your mom. If you don't want anything to do with her, then that's fine too, I won't push you, but I want you to decide for yourself, not because of what I want and certainly not because of what you think I want. And because I don't think that you don't want to talk to your mom," — he paused, eyes turning upwards as though he were checking that his words had properly conveyed his meaning — "I'm happy to go and meet her at the skydock, though I'm glad Sunset will be there too — mostly. She knows how to deal with your mom, but she might also make me look bad by comparison."
Pyrrha smiled. "You shouldn't care what she thinks of you."
"I don't," Jaune assured her. "Except when she's standing right in front of me, giving me that look."
Pyrrha giggled now, looking down at her hands, and Jaune's hands atop them, gently holding hers. "For better or worse, she is my mother," she said. "My link to the long line of my ancestors. Not to mention the fact that my home is her home. I … am glad that I do not have to sever all ties with her, and for what it's worth, I think that Blake is glad, too, that her mother has chosen to reach out to her in so dramatic a fashion."
"I…" Amber began. "I wish that I had more time with my mother, and not only because if she were here, then I wouldn't be … I'm sorry, Dove; I know that she wasn't fond of you, but—"
"But she was your mother, nonetheless; I understand that," Dove assured her. "Knowing what I now know about what … about everything, I can understand why she didn't want me around, even if I'm glad she didn't get her way."
Amber nodded. "But all the same, she always seemed so … she knew what to do, or at least, I thought she did; she was always … I don't know how she managed to bear it. She was so strong. More like … more like all of you, than me."
"There are many kinds of strength," Pyrrha said. "The strength to bear misfortune as you have suffered, and still to smile, that is strength in itself, strength to be envied."
Amber did not protest it; in fact she said, "You're very kind." But she did not look particularly reassured; in fact, she looked slightly distant for a moment before she said, almost crying out, "Jaune, the sash! I'm sorry, we keep interrupting."
"It's fine," Jaune assured her. "Like I said, it's not much to say, I mean … there was a class, an exercise, Pyrrha and I were split up. It was supposed to test how well we could work with other partners; anyway, it meant that I was going into the Emerald Forest to fight the grimm ahead of her. And so Pyrrha gave me her sash."
"So that a part of her would still be with you," Amber murmured approvingly.
"Yeah," Jaune agreed. "And … I thought it looked okay on me, maybe even kind of cool, so … I guess I decided to copy her." He shrugged. "I said it wasn't much of a story."
"I don't mind," Amber said. "And you're right, it does suit you."
She said … little else. Amber was rather quiet for the rest of the evening, all through dinner, and as they left to make their way back towards the dorm.
As they passed back into Beacon itself, passing under the eyes of the Emerald Tower that gleamed above, Amber stopped, halting in place as if she had been suddenly frozen.
"Amber?" Pyrrha asked.
Amber was silent a moment, and then a moment more. "Jaune, Dove, would you … would you give us a moment?" She raised her voice. "Ruby, Penny, would you come here please?"
Ruby and Penny had both been lagging behind a little bit, keeping a discreet distance, but now, they hastened to join the others.
"Is everything alright?" asked Penny. "Is there anything we can help with?"
Amber didn't answer her. She glanced at Dove. "Dove…"
Dove looked a little disappointed, but also looked to be trying to keep from showing it. "Of course," he said. He stepped forward, taking her by the arms, and kissed her. "Good—" He kissed her again. "Goodnight. I'll see you in the morning?"
"You will," Amber promised. "You will."
Jaune said, "I'll see you back in the dorm room?"
Pyrrha nodded. "Of course."
"Okay," Jaune said. "I'll … leave you to it." He retreated, Dove with him, melting away into the darkness, their footsteps echoing somewhat on the stone as they left the girls behind.
"Amber," Ruby said softly. "What is it? What is it that you couldn't say in front of Jaune or Dove?"
"Nothing, really, but … I feel like this is a thing for us," Amber said. "For girls. I want you to come with me; once Sunset comes back, I want you all to come with me."
"Come with you?" Ruby repeated. "Come with you where?"
"To the Relic," Amber declared. "I want to show you how to find the Relic of Choice."
XxXxX
Author's Note: No new chapter on Friday as I am away.
Bon Bon smirked. "Lyra, there's no one here but us; we can admit it."
Lyra folded her arms. "Well … okay, so maybe we were, but it's not like that's all we were doing. And we were with one another, so … I still had fun tonight."
"Yeah. Me too," Bon Bon said.
Lyra grinned. "It's nice to have stuff to smile about, isn't it? We … I thought that things were going to be … this is nice. It's … a reminder that good things can still happen."
Bon Bon's smirk turned into a full-fledged smile. "Yeah," she agreed. "Yeah, it is."
The two of them were headed back towards their dorm room, and for a moment, there was no sound but their feet upon the stairs, a thump, thump, thump as they ascended one stair after another.
Lyra frowned. "Hey, Bon Bon?"
"Yeah?"
"What do you think's going to happen next year?" asked Lyra.
Bon Bon blinked. "What do you mean?"
"I mean … well, Amber's not going to be here forever, is she?" Lyra pointed out. "She's not going to spend the next three years living in Team Sapphire's dorm room."
That was true, and would have been true even had Amber not been the Fall Maiden. As Amber was the Fall Maiden, it was even more true than Lyra knew.
Amber, the Fall Maiden; that was a thing that was marvellous and terrible, a thing that Bon Bon really, really wished that she wasn't. A thing that was so very hard to believe: that Amber, this sweet, unassuming girl who did not look at all as though she belonged in the middle of this game of gods and monsters, this girl who looked as out of place in all of this as Bon Bon herself, held the power that monsters like Cinder and Tempest were so assiduously seeking, the power that was one of the main prizes in this struggle and a key for unlocking even greater prizes still.
Amber was the key to all of this. Amber was the brass ring. Amber was the Fall Maiden.
Amber was dear to Dove. Amber was humble and kind. Amber was no warrior.
It was hard to reconcile it all in Bon Bon's mind, and the only point that was clear to her was that Amber didn't belong here.
So, yes, Lyra was right, more right than she could understand. To be honest, Bon Bon wasn't sure what Amber was still doing here; it was daylight madness to let her stay in Beacon, roam in Vale, even protected by Team Sapphire. Unless Professor Ozpin was so confident in the strength of her bodyguards.
Or he was letting Amber stay in Vale for the Vytal Festival because the Vytal Festival was awesome, and he wanted to give her a treat.
That … that was nice of him, if so. A little stupid, maybe, but nice all the same.
But that niceness wouldn't last forever. At some point, and if Bon Bon was right, then it would be at some point after the Vytal Festival, then Amber would be bundled off to … where? Well, that didn't really matter did it? Somewhere safe, somewhere Cinder couldn't find her, somewhere quiet, somewhere they didn't know.
"No," Bon Bon answered. "No, I don't suppose she will. I mean, if you're not a huntress in training, then why would you want to stick around here when you could go somewhere else, do … something you really want to?"
Hide and hope not to get found again.
"What if Dove goes with her?" asked Lyra softly.
Bon Bon blinked. "Huh?"
"Come on, don't tell me you haven't thought about it!"
"Um, well, I—"
Lyra rolled her eyes. "You're hopeless, honestly. You've been here the same as me, you've seen the way that he looks at her, you've seen the way that they are together, and you've seen how he was the whole year when he couldn't find her, and he thought that she was gone."
"Dove is serious about being a huntsman," Bon Bon pointed out. "He's more serious than you." And definitely more serious than me.
"Well, I'm serious about talking about this, and I'm not going to let you deflect me with an insult so that we end up fighting instead," Lyra declared. "Dove, yes, Dove was serious; he had serious, good reasons for wanting to become a huntsman. But he's also serious about Amber. I just … I don't think he'll want to let her go again, to let her leave, go somewhere else where they'll be apart. Somewhere there's a chance that she'll disappear again, or worse … what if the people who attacked her before come after her again? If Dove was here instead of where she was, even if that was just in Vale, then … he wouldn't be able to take it, would he?"
"No," Bon Bon murmured. "No, he wouldn't."
"So," Lyra went on. "If he goes with her, if he leaves Beacon to be with her — and, honestly, I think he should—"
"You do?" asked Bon Bon. "Give up his dreams for love?"
"Amber is his true dream," Lyra replied. "And he won't let her go, and he shouldn't."
"No," Bon Bon murmured. "No, he shouldn't. He … if Dove can be happy, then he should be, and if Amber makes him happy, then he should be with her. Like you said, he's already lost her once; I wouldn't ask him to take that risk again."
"But, that leaves the question, doesn't it?" Lyra said. "What's going to become of us? You can't have a team of two people, especially not two people who…"
"Speak for yourself," Bon Bon muttered. She folded her arms. "But I know what you mean." She paused for a moment. "What if … what if we left too?"
"Huh?"
Bon Bon shrugged. "I mean, you say things like … you imply things like we're not good enough to be here; have you thought of just … walking away? Quitting while we're ahead?"
"It would be a simple answer, I guess," Lyra admitted. "But it feels … doesn't it feel a little bit like betraying Sky's memory? I mean, he gave his life, and we're just—"
"Sky wouldn't want us to join him," Bon Bon pointed out. "I mean … it's a possibility, don't you think?"
"And do what instead?" Lyra asked.
"Go back to Atlas?" Bon Bon suggested. "Live in Vale, if you'd rather? I … I've got some money from my trust fund; we could … get a house, get jobs, get ordinary lives. Peaceful lives. We're not heroes, Lyra, so why … why pretend we are and risk being worse?"
She was possibly laying it on a bit too thick for Lyra's liking, but now that Lyra had raised the idea, Bon Bon found it tempting, very tempting: just walk away, away from everything, Tempest and Cinder and all the rest, just leave. Turn around and go. Shrug it all off. Be something, someone, else. Completely different.
Of course, Lyra wasn't quite in her position, so maybe she wasn't in the mood for the hard sell.
"I, uh, I don't know," Lyra murmured. "I mean, I get what you're saying, but … maybe. I don't know."
"We don't have to decide right away," Bon Bon assured her. "It was just … an idea. But Dove hasn't even left yet."
"Right," Lyra agreed. "We've got time."
They rounded a corner, turning into the corridor that would lead straight on to their dorm room.
Tempest Shadow was leaning against the wall, barring the way to their door.
"You." The word was out of Bon Bon's mouth before she could stop it, half-growled, almost spat.
"Bon Bon?" Lyra asked.
Tempest peeled herself off the wall. "Good evening," she said calmly, almost softly. "I'm sorry about the intrusion, but I was hoping for a word with you."
"You … you're Trixie's teammate, aren't you?" Lyra asked. "Do you and Bon Bon know each other?"
"A little," Bon Bon muttered. She took a deep breath. "Lyra … could you give us a second? I'll be right on through; I just need to talk to Tempest for a moment."
"Thank you," Tempest said, quietly and without any smugness.
Bon Bon would have told her to get lost, that she had nothing to say to her, but that would have meant explaining to Lyra why she was being so hostile. Better to get Lyra inside, out of the way, and then she could tell Tempest to take a running jump.
"Okay," Lyra said. "Well … have fun, I guess."
"Mmh," Bon Bon muttered wordlessly, smiling tightly as Lyra left, walking past Tempest — who didn't try to stop her — down the corridor.
She looked at Bon Bon — and at Tempest — as she reached the door, and then she disappeared into the dorm room.
"I've got nothing to say to you," Bon Bon said.
"Then listen," Tempest said. "And walk with me."
"Why?" Bon Bon asked. "Why would I want to go anywhere with you?"
"Because you want to protect Amber," Tempest said. "Don't you?"
"And you wanted…" Bon Bon lowered her voice. "You wanted to kill her the last time we spoke; now, I can still—"
"Yes, yes, I know that you can; I haven't come here to ask you to change your mind about that, but…" Tempest looked around. "This really would be much better if we could talk about it somewhere else where we might not be overheard."
"Too bad," Bon Bon said.
Tempest took a deep breath. "I suppose I haven't given you much reason to trust me," she admitted, "but … you can't keep Amber safe forever just by threatening to expose me to my fellow Atlesians. I'm not that important. If Cinder doesn't come for her, then it will be someone else, someone new. You know this, don't you?" She didn't wait for Bon Bon to answer; instead, she barreled on ahead. "But I know how Amber can keep herself safe, for good, for the rest of her life—"
"The life you wanted to end."
"I was stupid, okay," Tempest said. "I hadn't thought about it; I was fixated on … hear me out. Please. For Amber's sake … if she gives up the Relic, then there is no more reason to go after her. That's what I came here to say."
Bon Bon's eyes widened. "The Fall Maiden—"
"Matters because only the Fall Maiden can retrieve the Relic," Tempest said. "The magic … it's powerful, but it doesn't really matter. There are other powers, other magics; we can make do without. It's only the Relic that is essential; that's what matters. If Amber gives the Relic up to us, then she can go."
Bon Bon took a step back. It was … she wasn't Amber, obviously, but from her perspective, it was tempting. It was more than tempting; it was … it seemed a little too good to be true, honestly. "Cinder—"
"Has screwed up too much to deserve consideration," Tempest said. "Once we have the Relic, then Cinder will be getting a short, sharp stab in the back."
"When?"
"You can't expect us to give up all our cards too early, can you?" Tempest asked. "We need some way of keeping Amber honest. Assuming that she's willing to do it."
Bon Bon was silent for a moment. Assuming. Would Amber be willing to do it? She didn't seem like the hero type. There were certain kinds of people that you knew immediately that they would never, not in a million years, go for a deal like this. There were certain kinds of people who would reject it, instantly, because they were heroes, and heroes didn't do that kind of thing.
But Amber … Amber didn't seem like a hero. Of course, there was a long distance between saying that someone wasn't a hero and that they would be willing to give up a powerful magical artefact to enemies on the promise of safe passage and a way out of this fight, but…
Amber seemed mostly to care about Dove; she didn't seem interested in this fight, she never talked about it, she didn't talk about herself as a hero, a warrior, only as a victim.
And a victim would take any chance to escape.
And this… "How do I know I can trust you?" she asked. "How do you expect me to trust you?"
Tempest frowned. "What sort of proof can I offer?" she asked. "What sort of proof would you like?"
Bon Bon's eyebrows rose. "I can name it?"
"This is important," Tempest said. "As I told you before, this is the lynchpin of the entire Vale operation. If we get the Relic, then nothing else matters; if we don't, then nothing else that we accomplish matters."
Bon Bon thought about it. If Tempest was right, then yeah, it was definitely a tempting offer. If she could be sure, if she could trust Tempest, then…
Then Amber would be safe. Amber would be free. Amber and Dove could skip off and live happily ever after.
If only Bon Bon could trust Tempest.
But how? What could Tempest do to prove to her that this offer was genuine?
'Turn yourself in' was the obvious answer, but then how would they get in contact to arrange Amber handing over the Relic? 'Kill Cinder' was another one, but Tempest seemed to have made clear that that wasn't going to happen yet.
"Kill Cinder?" Bon Bon suggested, because it was worth trying. "Now?"
Tempest raised one eyebrow.
"So I don't get to name the price completely, then," Bon Bon said.
"No," Tempest said quietly. "Not completely. But if there's anyone else that you want killing—"
"No," Bon Bon said quickly. "No, I don't think that's … no. I want … I want…"
What could she ask? What could Tempest do? What could she do to prove to Bon Bon that she was in earnest and that Amber really would be safe if she went through with this?
"Give me a weapon I can use against you," Bon Bon said. "Give me something that I can use to protect Amber from you if you turn on her, and I'll trust you enough to take your offer to her."
"Will she accept it?" Tempest asked.
"I don't know," Bon Bon admitted, "but you'll have to trust that I will advocate for you."
That would be a risk on her part, because if Amber wasn't the sort of person who would take such an offer, then she would have no reason not to turn Bon Bon in — after all, she would have to reveal her allegiances in order to persuade Amber. But the prize, in Bon Bon's opinion, was worth it: safety for Amber and Dove, the possibility of redemption for Amber herself. Happy endings all around.
No more target on Amber's back, no more possibility of Amber and Dove being torn asunder, no more risk that their story would come to a tragic end, no more darkness hanging over them. Nothing but light and love, nothing but happiness; it was perfect, really.
And all it would take would be proof of trust.
Tempest was silent for a moment. "Very well," she said. "I will be back with something that I think will satisfy you." She paused. "Until then, you'd better get inside your room, hadn't you? We wouldn't want you to keep Lyra waiting."
XxXxX
Pyrrha was momentarily lost for words. Amber was … Amber was going to take them to the Relic?
She was going to show them where the Relic of Choice could be found?
One of the four Relics, the four keys that Salem and her forces were seeking, and Amber was going to show it to them?
It sounded … absurd, and yet, at the same time, for all its absurdity, it was a great honour also. A great honour to be shown this wondrous thing, this thing that it was Amber's sacred charge to guard, passed down to her from her mother and the Maidens of the past, this precious gift. This gift that she wished to share with them.
It was a great honour, and yet, at the same time, utterly absurd that she would show them this precious thing, this hidden thing, this thing that was so sought after, this thing that, if found, could have such consequence. Why would Amber wish to show it to any of them?
Why would Amber do such a thing, take such a risk?
I suppose I could ask her, since she's standing right here.
"Why?" Pyrrha asked, finding her voice. "Why would you—?"
"Because," Amber said, before Pyrrha could finish. "Because I…" She fussed with one of her golden bands, turning it around and around upon her wrist. "Because … I might die," she said softly, so softly that the night air nearly stole her words and snatched them away ere they reached the ears of Pyrrha or those who stood with her.
"Amber," Pyrrha said, in almost equal softness but, she hoped, a little more audible. "You will not die."
"I might."
"Not while we live," Pyrrha declared. "And Sunset lives. Is that not so?" she asked, looking at Ruby and at Penny where they stood on either side of her.
Ruby was looking at Pyrrha, not at Amber, and Pyrrha found that she could guess, or thought that she could guess, what Ruby was thinking.
"Now you agree that there are things worth dying for?"
I never … well, alright, Ruby, yes I suppose I did.
And yes, I would give my life for Amber, for duty's sake and also … and also because … because she has been ill-used in this, plunged into the midst of darkness and death through no want of her own, put at risk through no want of her own, that is something, it strikes me, that is worth protecting, even at the greatest of hazards if we must.
In the mythology of Mistral, there were women, young women, maidens if you would, whom the gods … to put it delicately, more delicately that it probably deserved to be put, took their maidenheads from, and as some kind of recompense, bestowed upon them immortality. An immortality that they had not asked for, had not sought, that condemned them to watching their fathers, mothers, brothers die before them, to take no husbands, to live in no way the lives that they had expected before their beauty caught the eyes of lusty divinities.
Amber, it seemed to Pyrrha, was much the same. Yes, she had not been deflowered by Professor Ozpin, he had not taken her for his pleasure beneath a tree somewhere, but he had made her something else than she had been, he had bestowed on her a great gift, a gift that had twisted her life beyond Amber's expectations, that had made it so that she could not live the life that she had wanted.
She was a victim in all of this. Pyrrha felt that if one were to conjure up the ideal of the sort of person a huntress was meant to defend, it would look somewhat like Amber.
And, on top of all of that, Pyrrha felt there was a … a connection between them.
She had been chosen to be Amber's heir, her inheritor, in a sense, in more senses than one. To inherit not only her powers but also perhaps some of her personality too.
She had been chosen, and then asked to choose. She had not chosen, Sunset had made it so that she did not have to choose, but nevertheless, the very act of having been chosen created a bond between her and Amber; though she had not spoken of it to Amber herself, Pyrrha felt it there regardless.
Why should I not fight for her with all that I possess?
"I don't want you to die for me," Amber said. "I don't want anyone to … that's not what I meant, that's not why I … please, just listen."
She paused. She breathed in and out. She looked down and clasped at the open sleeve that fell off her shoulder and fell down her side as part of the borrowed red dress.
"If I die," she repeated. "If they kill me, then … then I will think of you. I will try and think of you, anyway, one of you, or Sunset, the people, the girls who I…" She smiled. "You're my first friends. I've never had any friends before Sunset woke me, before you. Living in the forest, there was just my mother and me and Ozpin, and then I met Dove, but … well, if I had any other friends, I don't remember them, and Dove hasn't mentioned them either, so … you are my friends. You're my first and only friends. Dove is my friend, but you … you're dear to me, and you can inherit the Maiden powers, while Dove and Jaune can't, and so if I die, I will … I'll try and give the powers to you, if I can."
If you can, Pyrrha thought. If the powers do not simply seek to reunite in Cinder. Professor Ozpin, after all, had thought it likely that they would. Thought it possible, at the very least, although they had also thought that perhaps those powers that still resided in Amber would transfer after the usual fashion — but to Cinder again, as the last person in Amber's thoughts.
That was not the case at the moment, and might not be the case again.
"And so," Amber went on, "if that happens, if one of you becomes the next Fall Maiden, then … then I want you to know where the Relic is, how to get to it. I don't want you to rely on Ozpin telling you; I want you to be … I want you to be able to be free of him."
"Amber," Pyrrha murmured. "This … this is a great honour that you offer us, but I'm not sure that … your words are kind and generous, but perhaps a little too grim; I would not have you look forward to your death in such a fashion."
"I can see the sense in it," Ruby said. "Not because I think that Amber's going to die, because she isn't, but … if the enemy, if Cinder, finds out where the Relic is, then if Amber is the only one who knows, then she'll have to go there. But if she tells us now where to go, then Amber can stay safe, and we can go and confront Cinder or whoever on her behalf."
"You speak good sense," Pyrrha conceded. "Perhaps it is as well that we know, just in case."
"If this is what you want," Penny said, "but don't you trust us to protect you? To keep you safe?"
"I trust you to try," Amber replied.
"But not to succeed?" asked Penny.
Amber said, "It's all so dangerous. And she's so powerful."
That is the counsel of despair. Would that Sunset were here to conjure up some words to drive it off. "Is there nothing that we may say that may cause you to have hope?" Pyrrha asked. "Nothing to make you feel … our enemies are many, and they are powerful, that is true, but we are not dead yet, none of us. You were … many thought that you must surely perish, but here you are, well and happy, and in love. Loving and beloved, as some might say. You are alive, and we are all still alive, and despite the stretching forth of great powers against us, despite their attempts to kill and to defeat us, we are alive, and we have triumphed against these grave enemies. We are alive, and where are our foes? Defeated, their plans in ruins, whipped curs licking their injuries."
That was, perhaps — more than perhaps — over-egging things a little bit when it came to Cinder, who had been in fine form when they had left her last, but even she … powerful as she might be, it was difficult to see what she might do next, her dust used up, her stratagem failed.
Of course, that was not to say that it would remain thus always, but … things were not so bleak as Amber painted them.
"Things are not so bleak," Pyrrha went on, because she thought that sounded rather good. "Please, Amber, I would not have you lose all hope. I would have you smile, if you can."
"I can smile," Amber replied, and proved it with a soft smile, albeit a sad smile, it seemed to Pyrrha. "Thanks to you, and all of you, and Dove, thanks to all the things that you do for me, I can smile. I can smile at the light in the darkness, but that doesn't make the darkness disappear."
"No," Pyrrha admitted. "No, I concede that it does not. And Ruby does make a very good point. Penny, would you like to see the Relic?"
"I'm not sure that I want to," Penny admitted. "I don't know if it's something worth seeing or not, but I can see it might be useful to know where it is, and if Amber wants to show it to me, then that's very nice of you. Thank you."
"Don't thank me," Amber said. "I'm telling you that I might pass my curse onto you."
"Oh," Penny said. "Well, I'm sure you'd only do that in a nice way."
Amber stared at her. Then she grinned. Then she looked as though she was trying to stifle a laugh, her mouth crinkling and her cheeks bulging a little. Then the laugh broke out of her mouth.
Ruby snorted. Pyrrha chuckled softly.
"That didn't come out right!" Penny protested. "But I know what I meant!"
"Yes," Amber agreed. "Yes, we know. The kindest of curses. Never was a curse meant so well and given with such affection."
"Then maybe it isn't a curse," Penny suggested. "Can a gift from a friend ever be a curse?"
"If you gave a friend a poisonous snake or something," Ruby said.
"But why would you want to give your friend something like that?" asked Penny.
"Because … that's a good point; I don't know."
"It is a curse," Amber said. "It was not meant as a curse, at first, but … but it has become one."
"But a curse which must be borne," Pyrrha said. "But we will help you bear it, while we can, if we can, and if that means that we will see where the Relic is kept, then let us go … once Sunset arrives."
XxXxX
Sunset was holding her jacket in one hand, draped across her shoulder like a pelisse, as she walked into the dorm room.
"Hey," she said, "I'm back."
She need hardly have said that, because not only was it self-evident that she was back — otherwise, she wouldn't have been in much position to say it, would she? — but also because everyone was looking at her, as if their eyes had been fixed upon the door, waiting for her to come in.
"Hello," Sunset said. "Is there something I can do for you?" She noticed that Penny was there, sitting on Ruby's bed next to Ruby. "Um, sorry, Penny, that might have sounded rude, hey, it's nice to see you, I didn't notice you because I was distracted by the mildly creepy staring."
"That's fine," Penny assured her. "I'm not upset."
Amber got up off of her borrowed bed. She was wearing one of Pyrrha's dresses, albeit one which suited her pretty well. Sunset wondered what they'd done to lift up the hem; it was very good, she couldn't see how it was being done.
"You need to come with us," she said, "I mean, I'd like for you to come with us, with Pyrrha and Ruby and Penny; I want to show you how to get to the Relic of Choice."
Sunset blinked. "Hello, Sunset, how was your evening? Oh, it was all right; we couldn't find a restaurant to take us in anywhere, but we had some fun prowling the streets of Vale and ended up hearing mermaids down by the docks. How was your evening, guys? Well, we decided to go and look at the Relic of Choice, and you should come too!"
Amber sniggered. "I'm sorry, I suppose it is a little abrupt. It made more sense, considering that I'd already talked to Ruby and Pyrrha and Penny about it; I forgot that it would seem very strange to you."
"Ruby and Penny and Pyrrha," Sunset murmured. She glanced at Jaune. "Ladies' night?"
Jaune shrugged, a sheepish smile upon his face. "I can't become a Maiden, so…"
Sunset's brow furrowed a little bit. "So … why?" she asked.
"We might need to know," Ruby said. "In case we have to defend the Relic from Salem's forces, it would be good if we knew where it was, and Amber wouldn't have to lead us there."
Sunset nodded. "Okay, yes, that is a reason…" She looked at Amber. "I'm not sure it's a reason that you would come up with, Amber, no offence."
"None taken," Amber said quietly. "I'm not very martially minded, I know."
"So—"
"Do Amber's reasons matter?" asked Pyrrha. "They're a little … melancholy, shall we say?"
"I … I suppose they don't technically matter," Sunset admitted, "but at the same time, having just walked in here not anticipating going to be told that we have a field trip, I think that I'm allowed to ask what brought this on and why it has to be now."
"Because I might die," Amber said.
Melancholy, Pyrrha? Yes, I suppose you could call it that. "You're not going to die; I won't allow it."
"You might not be able to prevent it," Amber said.
"I've done it once," Sunset pointed out.
"I know," Amber said. "And I'm grateful. I'm so grateful, I … I can never repay—"
"You could start by not talking about dying," Sunset suggested.
"If I die, then I … I know that I'm not a very good Maiden. Ozpin, my mother, they chose wrong, they chose so wrong."
"Don't be too hard on yourself—"
"Pyrrha spoke such beautiful words to me tonight," Amber said, "about hope. I can't … I should be saying something like that to you; a Maiden should be speaking those words, isn't that right? Isn't that what they did in the story, isn't that why there even are Maidens? But I can't, I don't have … I can't speak, I can't fight, I can't inspire anybody—"
"You have inspired us to pledge ourselves to your protection," Pyrrha pointed out. "That is not nothing."
"No," Amber agreed. "No, it is not nothing, but it is your kindness and your courage, not my charm."
"Charm is…" Sunset trailed off a moment, because she had a better and a more important point to make. You could argue that all of the things that Amber was concerned about falling short in were irrelevant to the circumscribed Maidens of the modern day, that all that Amber needed to do was not die and let her powers fall into the hands of evil. That was … a melancholy thing, though, to use Pyrrha's understatement of earlier, and it wasn't a message that Sunset wished to give voice to, no matter how true it was.
Not to mention that it probably wouldn't help Amber much to hear it.
"If you want to be as the Maidens of old, if you want to inspire, to lead, if you want to be as they were, then that is possible," Sunset said.
"I'm not—"
"These qualities are not innate," Sunset declared. "I thought … I'm a snob, I admit that. I own that, without the shame that is implied by talk of admission. I kowtow to Lady Nikos and genuflect in the direction of the blood of Old Mistral. But I will also say — and again, I say it without the shame that would be implied by saying 'I admit' — that there are many great leaders, some of them known to me, who have risen to become the focal points of a peoples' hopes and dreams without a drop of noble blood in them." How much would you be blushing to hear this, Twilight? "Public speaking, oratory, how to bear yourself as a leader, these things can be taught and have been taught for many years, and the rest? Qualities of character can be built by…" Sunset paused. She knew how Princess Celestia had taught Twilight Sparkle the qualities of character required for her ascension — by sending her to Ponyville to make friends and learn lessons — but she searched for the words to frame it and also to apply it to Amber's situation. "By experience, which is a fine teacher of such things. Wherever you go next … perhaps you will be allowed to interact with the people living nearby; I'm sure that you won't be so isolated that there is no one living within walking distance — where would you get your food from? — and you can … you can become a figure of hope to them, if you wish. These things are not beyond you."
"No?" Amber asked. "What makes you think so?"
"Because a little bookworm who spent her early years haunting the libraries did what I could not," Sunset said. "Because she learned, because she experienced, because she tried, supported by good friends. It's … it might not be easy, but it isn't complicated, if that makes sense."
"Did what you could not?" Amber repeated. "What do you mean?"
"Um … let's just stay on topic for now, shall we?" Sunset said. "I can tell you about myself later, if you wish, but for now, I'd like to focus on the fact that you want to take us to see the Relic of Choice, shall we?"
"Yes," Amber agreed. "Yes, very well, I … do you really think that I could? Do you really think that I could be allowed?"
"I think that the bigger question is whether you want it badly enough," Sunset said.
"What I want," Amber murmured. "What I want is … it doesn't matter what I want; what matters is what I am, and what I have, and what I … I want to show you where the Relic is just in case. So that you'll know. So that you can … regardless of whether I live or die, I can't protect the Relic, but you … maybe you can't either, but the difference is that you're brave enough to try. Please, let me do this, let me show you? I won't open the inner sanctum and get the Relic out, but at least you'll know where it is, and more importantly, how to reach it. Ozpin … it's not somewhere you can just walk into. Please, let me show you."
Sunset looked away from Amber, at Pyrrha and Ruby and Penny.
"You've all agreed to this?" she asked. "You all want this?"
"'Want' is a strong word," Pyrrha murmured. "I do not relish the idea of Amber's death, but, yes, I am ready."
"And me," Penny said.
"And me too," Ruby said. "There's good reason for it."
"Yes, I suppose there is," Sunset murmured. "Well, in that case, who am I to be the odd one out? Okay then. Amber, lead the way." She paused. "Would you like my jacket against the cold? It's gotten a little chilly out by now."
Amber nodded. "Thank you."
Amber put on Sunset's jacket, where it clashed with the dress but not that much more than it had with Sunset's cocktail dress, and then she led them out of the dorm room — did Team YRBN wonder what they were doing coming and going so late? — and out into the night air that was as chilly as Sunset had said.
So chilly that she half wished that she hadn't given her jacket to Amber. Sunset shivered a little as she and the others followed Amber out into the night, walking across the courtyard, beneath the statue of the huntsmen and the huntress.
The huntress was too far back upon the rock, but the eyes of the huntsman above and the beowolf below seemed to follow them, staring at them as they walked, as if asking them where they were going at such an hour as this.
A crow cawed somewhere in the night as the five of them left the paved courtyards behind, passing beneath the glowing green lights of the Emerald Tower and moving out in the grass of Beacon's expansive grounds. So late as it was, there was no one around, no one to observe them, no one to question them, no one to say or do anything at all. There was only them and the somewhat distant sounds of the Atlesian airships moving above, indifferent to their small shapes as they walked like ants across the face of the earth.
Amber led them far from the buildings, in the direction of Vale, roughly, but not towards the skydocks. She led them away from there, away from the paths and the trees, away from all of it, towards the drop down from the school to the city below, but to a very secluded part of the drop off, to where the river cut across the grounds and then dropped in a waterfall down before it flowed down towards the sea.
It was not much of a river, it had to be said — it could be called more of a stream, in fact — but at the edge, at the point at which it fell off the edge and down to the city below, it certainly sounded loud enough.
"It's just down there," Amber said. "Although it's a little hard to see."
"Let me," Sunset said, holding out her hand and casting a ball of magelight, glowing green, illuminating the grass on which they stood and the water rushing inexorably by on its way down and out, illuminating everything as it floated out just beyond the cliffs and stayed there, hovering in the air.
Amber crouched down, and approached the edge gingerly, arms held out on either side of her, golden bangles gleaming green in the light of Sunset's magic.
"It's just down there," she said. "There's a ledge; you can see it now."
They all clustered at the edge, more or less warily. Penny looked the least concerned about the drop, possibly she was built that resilient, or maybe she had that good balance. Sunset knew that if needs must, she could teleport back up, the way that she had done when she was horsing around with Cinder that one time.
Pyrrha and Ruby were the slightly more nervous, the latter more than the former, perhaps because Pyrrha had grown up on a mountain, but even Pyrrha was crouched down rather than at her full height.
Nevertheless, nervous or no, they gathered at the edge and looked down to where they could indeed see a little rocky ledge, about ten or twelve, maybe fifteen feet down from where they were, next to the waterfall, getting splashed by the water dropping down nearby.
"Is there room for all of us down there?" Sunset asked.
"I think so," Amber said. "There should be?"
"Okay then," Sunset said. "I'll go first, make sure it's stable."
That being said, she dropped down, jumping off the edge, falling the relatively short distance and landing on the rock below with a bit of a thump and a jolt to her aura. But the rock held; it didn't give way under her weight.
Sunset tapped her foot on the rock as she felt the water splash her face. "Okay," she called up. "Come down, one at a time."
So, one at a time, they descended, first Pyrrha, then Amber herself, then Ruby, then Penny last of all, jumping or scrambling down the rock or, in Amber's case, levitating herself down with the corona of fire blazing around her as she let the air currents lower her gently down.
"I take it that this drop isn't the means of defending the Relic?" Sunset asked.
"No," Amber said. "No, the Relic … the Relic is…" She held out one hand, holding it out towards the waterfall beside them, letting the water splash upon her arm and on the gold she wore upon her arm.
"Valour," Amber whispered. "'A huntsman is sworn to valour. His heart knows only virtue. His blade defends the helpless. His word speaks only truth. His wrath undoes the wicked.'"
Sunset shivered, unable to avoid thinking about how much of that oath she had broken; the only part she'd managed to keep to was the bit at the end about wrath.
Nevertheless, Amber spoke the words, and at her word, the waterfall moved aside, like a curtain, revealing that the ledge of rock continued — and that, beneath the waterfall, there was a cave mouth gaping, a hole leading down into the darkness.
"Is that magic?" Pyrrha asked.
"A spell cast by … one of the old Maidens, I think, when the Relic was put here," Amber said. "Or maybe by Ozpin."
"I take it we couldn't simply have walked through the water," Sunset said.
Amber shook her head. "If you don't speak the words, then you'll get swept away, dropped down below," she said. "Come on, it's this way."
Since she would have had to squeeze past Sunset and Ruby, she didn't lead the way, but it was pretty obvious where they were meant to go: into the cave, and once they were inside the cave, down the steps that they found there, down into the darkness.
And yet it was not such complete darkness as it might have been, for bioluminescent green moss grew on the rocky walls of the tunnel that they descended, and set into the walls of stone were blue crystals that also gave off a faint light, and together, they combined to make a turquoise glow that was the equal of Sunset's magelight, to the extent that she didn't need her magic to light the way because the way ahead was lit up well enough already.
And so they went, the five of them, walking down the steps, their path lit up by moss, somewhat overdressed for cavern exploration — in the case of Sunset, Pyrrha, and Amber anyway — but going nonetheless, descending until they came to a point where the tunnel opened up into a cavern that was, if not vast — the ceiling was still fairly low, for one thing — was certainly more expansive than the tunnel, widening out to allow the five of them to stand side by side, and room for moving around if they had wished.
Set into the walls of the cavern were carved statues, half in relief, half sunk into the rock: statues of kings all wearing the same crown, a crown with a single sharp point descending down beneath the brows, sharp like a blade, as though the crown itself meant to skewer those who wore it between the eyes. Above, there were five points, sharp if not so blade-like, a little more jagged in shape, and in the centre of the crown, a stone of some sort, a jewel of a colour that could not be made out from a statue of grey stone.
All the same crown, on every kingly brow.
Sunset felt it looked a little sinister, to be honest. Was this the Relic? Was this why it was depicted here? She couldn't think why else there would be all these kings otherwise. It was the one thing that they all had in common. Some bore swords, others did not; some wore armour, others did not; some had ermine robes, others did not. Clothes, faces, they all varied, but they all wore the crown.
In the centre of the cavern, there was another statue, a woman this time, and one who did not wear the crown: a young woman, with short hair — much like Amber's own — and a kerchief tied around her neck.
There was something regal about her bearing, about the way that she held herself, the way that she looked down on them — and she was looking down on them, as all the ancient kings looked down on them.
It was as if the room itself resented them for trespassing.
And beyond the statue: a door, a great door as wide and as high as the cavern itself, a door that almost resembled a wall of ice or crystal, a door that was a fiery red, as red as any leaf in the Forever Fall, a red glowing brighter than any moss or crystal, casting its light down into the cavern.
The five of them stood there, coloured red by the glow of the door, standing, staring at the cavern before them, with its statues on either side and the door before them.
"That door," Pyrrha murmured, "is that—?"
"Yes," Professor Ozpin said from behind them. "That is where the Relic of Choice is stored. Only the Fall Maiden can open it."
The five of them whirled around. Amber gasped with shock and shrank back behind Sunset.
"Professor!" Pyrrha said. "You—"
"Yes, Miss Nikos, I did," Professor Ozpin said, his voice so calm it was impossible to tell if he was really calm or just pretending. "Amber … why?"
"I … I thought that they should see," Amber replied, her voice trembling. "I thought that they should know. Just in case."
"In case of what?" Professor Ozpin asked.
"In case … in case they needed to come here," Amber said. "In case … in case … in case I—"
"Amber," Professor Ozpin said, his voice sounding notably less calm now; it sounded like it might start trembling itself save that he had such control over it. "Amber that is … that is what they, what we are here to prevent. Please, do not … this is not necessary."
"We did try and tell her, Professor," Sunset said, "but at the same time … if we must come here, best that we know now and that Amber does not have to lead us here in the midst of a crisis."
Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. "Yes, I suppose there is some truth to that. Nevertheless, you should have consulted me first."
"We're sorry, Professor," Sunset said.
"No harm done, really," Professor Ozpin said lightly. "But I would appreciate it if you would all come with me now, and not return here without good cause."
"Yes, Professor," Sunset said. "Of course. And of course, we won't come here again, hopefully ever."
Nevertheless, as they followed Professor Ozpin out, Sunset looked back at the fiery red door behind them and thought of the crown — that sinister-looking crown — that lay behind it, the crown for which great powers contended and people like Amber paid the price.
And the statue, the statue Sunset presumed could only be of a Maiden, of the Maiden, watched them as they walked away.
The skydock bustled with activity. Through the glass skylight above them, Sunset could see a pair of airships moving in, almost at once. One, coming in from the east, was from Mistral, the other, from Atlas, was coming in from the north. Both were performing a stately aerial dance, circling around one another like great flying creatures, like immense birds or whales of the air as they both lined up to land without colliding with one another in mid-air or in the descent.
The skydock was busy already; another airship had just landed about ten or fifteen minutes ago, this one a short-hop flight from Alexandria to the south, and people were still flooding off it to spill out onto the concourse beneath the immense glass skylight. Even if all the passengers had disembarked by now, there were still people milling about the concourse, greeting people, waiting for their cabs, buying the toothpaste they had forgotten to pack or the alcohol they could get cheap from the off-license. Others were sitting or standing in the lounge, waiting for their outbound flight to be called.
Activity was all around, and the air was abuzz with conversations which struck the glass ceiling up above.
Hopefully, it would lessen a bit soon, or Lady Nikos might not be able to spot them in the press.
"Do you think we should have made a sign?" Jaune asked as he and Sunset stood just beyond the egress gate onto the concourse, watching the doors through which Lady Nikos would emerge when she disembarked from her airship and made her way inside.
"Lady Nikos knows what we look like," Sunset replied.
"Yeah, but will she be able to see us?" asked Jaune.
It was a fair point, with so many people around. Nevertheless, Sunset replied, "I do not think Lady Nikos is the sort of person who would wish to be welcomed with a homemade sign held above our heads."
Jaune let out a single laugh, almost a bark except that it wasn't quite loud enough. "I guess you might have a point about that. I'm a little surprised she's flying in an airship, to be honest."
Sunset glanced at him, raising her eyebrows slightly. "As opposed to flying with her wings?"
Jaune rolled his eyes. "No, as opposed to, like, chartering a yacht or something. That's something rich people do, right? They have their own private airships, or they hire them?"
"It is," Sunset allowed, "but I think that if my lady owned her own airship, then she would have sent it for Pyrrha, at least to fly us from Piraeus to Mistral, when we visited. And besides, while I've never been aboard a private yacht, I imagine that with the best will in the world, they're small and a little cramped. It's probably not quite as bad as flying long distance in Rainbow's Skyray, but why would you want to put up with the privations when you can just get a stateroom aboard a skyliner? Plus, it's probably safer."
"You think?"
"You don't?" Sunset responded.
"A larger airship means more people," Jaune said. "More people means more chance of attracting grimm, and one of those airships isn't going to outrun nevermores, is it?"
"No, but a larger ship means someone is more likely to answer your distress call," Sunset said.
"Maybe," Jaune allowed. "Do you think they have huntsmen on board?"
"I have no idea," Sunset admitted. "Ruby would know."
"How do you think she and Penny are getting on with Amber?" asked Jaune.
"I imagine that Penny is learning a lot about knights," Sunset said. "Whether she finds it interesting is something else altogether."
"Knights and princesses," Jaune said.
"Yes, of course, we mustn't leave out the princesses," Sunset said.
She paused for a moment, watching the two airships descend in a slow and steady fashion towards the great tarmac expanse that awaited them outside the dock. A smile played across Sunset's lips.
"Have you considered that you're a bit of a Percy yourself?"
Jaune blinked. "The swan girl? How do you mean?"
"A princess with a grand old name, the heir to a great kingdom—"
"Pyrrha isn't really the heir to anything."
"One whose hand their parent is anxious to give away to someone of their choosing," Sunset went on, "and the knight who chooses to follow their heart, casting all else aside to be ruled by passion."
"That's not funny, Sunset," Jaune declared, folding his arms. "Her mom might actually mean it."
"Right," Sunset murmured. "Yeah, sorry, that was in … sorry, I should have thought."
"It's okay," Jaune muttered.
"Obviously not," Sunset said. "You know, Pyrrha wouldn't have asked us to come down here and meet with Lady Nikos unless her mother had at least given the … outward form of having reconciled herself to your relationship. If she didn't think that Lady Nikos was going to treat you with at least a modicum of courtesy, then she would have left her mother to stew down here, and she wouldn't see her and she wouldn't ask any of us to see her either."
"But you would have come down here to see her anyway, right?" Jaune asked.
"I would," Sunset agreed. "Does that seem like treachery in your eyes?"
Jaune shook his head. "You thought that if Pyrrha were to cut all ties with her mom, then the day would come when she'd regret it. You might have been right about that. We'll never know for sure, but … I was afraid you were right too, that Pyrrha would regret it and that she'd blame me for being the cause of it. That's why … I'm glad you did what you did. And I'm glad that Pyrrha and her mom are talking again; I just … I just wish I knew how she was going to react when she saw me here."
"If I thought that she would be hostile, I wouldn't have asked you to come," Sunset assured him.
"Yeah," Jaune said. "Yeah, you're right." He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling, and shook his arms a little.
Both airships had landed, settling down upon the ground, their wings ceasing to beat. Landed and stationary, they looked quite different to when they were in flight above; they looked like buildings, long buildings of glass and steel.
Yes, definitely more comfortable than chartering a yacht.
The food's probably better too.
"It won't be long now," Sunset murmured.
"Uh huh," Jaune said quietly.
"It'll be fine," Sunset assured him. "Lady Nikos will be the soul of courtesy, I have no doubt. Whatever thoughts she may have harboured about you, you are Pyrrha's boyfriend and look set to stay that way for some time to come, and so I believe that Lady Nikos will wish to reconcile with you, if only for the sake of her own relationship with Pyrrha. In fact, I will go so far as to say that Lady Nikos will be more afraid of you than you are of her."
Jaune's eyes narrowed. "No way, come on; you're just making stuff up to make me feel better."
"I am saying what I believe based on what I know: you are far more secure in Pyrrha's heart than her mother is," Sunset declared. "Of course, Lady Nikos won't actually admit her fear to you — she is too proud for that — but … what she did, what she said, why she did it, it wasn't right. I don't defend it, but … she loves her daughter, after her own fashion. I ask that you try and remember that."
Jaune nodded. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I know. I remember."
"Good," Sunset said.
She glanced around the skydock, taking note of the large number of police officers present on the concourse; and not even regular police, but the ones with machine guns and body armour. They watched the crowd, their faces grim, set in almost scowls, one hand seeming to stay ever close to the triggers of their weapons.
They were there to provide reassurance, part of First Councillor Emerald's drive to reassure the people of Vale, and all its visitors as well, that Vale was safe and there was no further risk of any terrorist action by the White Fang or anyone else.
Not everyone looked reassured. Some people were giving the police a wide berth, glancing at them anxiously, pulling their children away, steering clear. Especially the faunus. Sunset supposed that she could understand why.
People were starting to come in now, the glass doors opening as visitors from Atlas and Mistral alike — and probably some from Vale coming back from Atlas or Mistral too — poured into the lounge and headed towards the egress gates that would release them onto the main concourse and, thence, out into the city itself. There was no sign of Lady Nikos, but as the gates opened and the weight of passengers from two airships poured out, forcing Sunset and Jaune to back away from the gate somewhat, as the air was filled with the sound of voices calling out to one another, Sunset was doubtful whether she could have seen or heard Lady Nikos in any case.
Perhaps Jaune had a point about the sign.
Nevertheless, lacking a sign, Sunset and Jaune waited, even as the crowd flowing out of the gate began to abate, even as they began to see a little more clearly again the lounge and the glass doors beyond.
The doors which opened, the bulk of the press having passed by, the concourse yet being full but the lounge being rather empty, to admit Lady Nikos into the skydock. Pyrrha's mother was dressed in red, in a dress that was long enough to cover her entire legs and her feet too, while not being wide in any sense, falling straight down from her hips to the floor without any expansion of any sort; the bodice was of the same colour, and pooled a little around the waist rather like a peplum, while the collar was white lace with an emerald brooch worn at the neck. Over her bodice, she wore a jacket, also red, with gold detailing upon the lapels and slightly puffed shoulders, along with long sleeves that covered her arms all the way down to her hands, even as her hands were half-concealed beneath a pair of flimsy lace gloves. She walked slowly, with the aid of an ebony walking stick, and moved more stiffly than Sunset remembered from their time in Mistral.
She was followed by a maid dressed in black, with a bag slung across her shoulder and dragging a large suitcase on wheels behind her. The skydock door very nearly closed on it.
Lady Nikos stopped, and leaned upon her stick a moment.
"My lady!" Sunset called out to her.
Lady Nikos' head instantly turned in their direction, although it did not settle there but glanced around a moment, presumably looking for some sign of Pyrrha. Seeing her not, Lady Nikos began to walk towards them, moving with the same stiff gait as before, her stick tapping lightly upon the tiled floor as she crossed the lounge.
She held out one hand, and her maid handed her a scroll, which she held up to the scanner on the egress gate to open it, allowing her and her maid both to depart the lounge and pass onto the concourse.
Then, as the gate closed after them, Lady Nikos turned to face Sunset and Jaune.
"My lady," Sunset said, bowing to her, "I bid you welcome to the Kingdom of Vale."
"My lady," Jaune repeated, somewhat matching Sunset's bow.
"Miss Shimmer," Lady Nikos said, sounding a little out of breath. "It is good to see you again. Mister Arc." She paused a moment. "Pyrrha—"
"Is unavoidably detained, my lady," Sunset said. "She bid us come in her stead, welcome you, and see you safely settled in."
"'Unavoidably detained'?" Lady Nikos repeated. "How?"
"Pyrrha is … recording for a TV programme," Jaune explained. "It's a Mistralian documentary about the Vytal Festival, and she and Arslan Altan are doing some presenting for it."
"Is that so?" Lady Nikos asked. "How did that come about?"
"Arslan did us — did me — a good service, my lady," Sunset admitted. "She asked for Pyrrha to do her this favour in return."
"I see," Lady Nikos said. "Very well then, that is what it is, although I must say they have left it rather late."
"Apparently, the production is almost complete, and the lead time is not onerous, my lady."
"I do seem to recall that the commercial for that ghastly cereal was released very swiftly after the filming was completed," Lady Nikos admitted. "It can be done, I suppose. In any case, Pyrrha is not here, but I am glad not to have been greeted by absence alone."
"It is our pleasure to attend you, my lady," Sunset said.
"Flattery can be carried to excess, Miss Shimmer," Lady Nikos said, a slight degree of amusement entering into her voice. "Nonetheless, I am glad to see … both of you. I would have speech with you, in absence of my daughter. But not here, somewhere more private, and somewhere without this skylight generating such oppressive heat."
"It is cooler without, my lady," Sunset promised. "Much cooler; fall is fully upon us. Does…?" She hesitated a moment, fearful of overstepping the bounds of propriety. But, at the same time, watching Lady Nikos made it very difficult not to ask, "Does my lady require any assistance?"
"No, thank you, Miss Shimmer," Lady Nikos replied. "I am merely a little stiff from so long cooped up aboard an airship."
Sunset wasn't sure exactly how true that was, but nevertheless, she offered a slight bow, and said, "As my lady says. If you will follow me."
As she turned away, in the direction of the exit, she heard Jaune say, "Do you need any help?"
Sunset looked back at him, wondering why he was offering Lady Nikos the same assistance that he must have just heard her refuse from Sunset, but as she looked back, she realised that he was not speaking to the lady, but to the maid.
He held one hand out in the direction of the large case.
"I'm fine, sir; I can manage," replied the maid. She had dark hair, flecked with grey, and a few barely visible lines beneath her light brown eyes.
"Are you sure?" Jaune asked.
"Quite sure, sir," the maid replied, her tone clipped, her voice verging upon sharpness.
"That is … generous of you, Mister Arc," Lady Nikos said, not looking back at him. "Hestia, permit it."
The maid — Hestia — hesitated for a moment. Then she curtsied, though her mistress had her back to her. "As you say, ma'am," she said. "Here you go, young sir."
"Thanks," Jaune, taking the case from her now unprotesting hands, lifting it up — it cannot have seemed so heavy to him, with aura, as it had seemed to her — and carrying it along in the wake of Sunset and Lady Nikos as the four of them made their way towards the exit.
Sunset kept her pace slow, so as not to outpace Lady Nikos; she put one foot barely before the other, moving along at an easy pace, betraying no sign of impatience with Pyrrha's mother as she walked beside her.
She kept her gaze on Lady Nikos, though she tried to hide the fact, in case she slipped or stumbled or it all became too much for her.
It did not, and they made it outside of the skydock, where absent the great skylight, it was much cooler, the crisp fall air lightly tapping them upon the faces. There was a carpark to the south of the skydock, but directly in front of them was an empty taxi rank, and a road flowing by directly beyond, with cars zipping along it, including at least one yellow cab that Sunset could see.
"If my lady will wait here, I will get us a taxi," Sunset said, before walking out to the edge of the taxi rank and holding out her hand. "Taxi!"
A yellow cab drove past her, completely ignoring her.
So did another one, blind or oblivious to Sunset's outstretched hand.
Sunset frowned and stepped out into the road, yelling again, "Taxi!"
A car swerved to avoid her, honking its horn as it did so; another yellow taxi drove past without acknowledgement of who she was or what she wanted.
It's 'cause I'm a faunus, isn't it?
A scowl settled on Sunset's face as she stomped back to Lady Nikos and the others.
"Call us a cab, Jaune," she barked, snapped almost. Perhaps she did snap, although it wasn't Jaune's fault. "Please."
"Uh, right," Jaune said, putting the heavy case down and walking out to the taxi rank. He didn't even go as close to the edge of the road as Sunset had before sticking his hand out. "Taxi?"
Two cabs — two cabs, if you please — rolled up.
It was only her desire to maintain her dignity in front of Lady Nikos that prevented Sunset from saying something unseemly.
"So, it is true what has been said in Mistral," Lady Nikos murmured.
"I have no doubt that many things are said in Mistral, my lady, but I must ask you to be more specific as to what is true," Sunset murmured.
"That the city of Vale, the heart of this enlightened kingdom of tolerance, as it would proclaim itself, is becoming unsafe for faunus," Lady Nikos said.
"I wouldn't go so far as to call it unsafe, my lady," Sunset said, as she picked up Lady Nikos' case and began to carry it towards the first of the two waiting cabs, "but there is an ill-mood against us. I am surprised the word of it has reached Mistral."
"There is a degree of schadenfreude to it, considering Mistral's reputation in that regard," Lady Nikos confessed, "but it is part of news that had some suggesting that it was foolish of me to come here, that this city is becoming a rough, rowdy, violent place, unsafe for good Mistralians."
"That is exaggerated, my lady, let me assure you," Sunset declared as she approached the rear of the cab and popped the trunk, lifting Lady Nikos' case into it. "Some here in Vale are exhibiting coarse manners, towards Atlesians or towards faunus, but this city is as safe as anywhere in Remnant, and more than many places."
Lady Nikos turned her eyes towards the sky. "I hope the Valish are having joy of our ships," she remarked.
Hestia got in the front seat of the cab, leaving Sunset, Jaune, and Lady Nikos to share the back. Jaune got in first, scooting across to the far side of the back row, with Lady Nikos getting in after him and Sunset last, leaving her to shut the door after them all.
"Where to, ma'am?" asked the cab driver.
"The Hotel Majestic," Lady Nikos said.
"Yes, ma'am," replied the cab driver, pulling away and back into the flow of traffic.
As the taxi drove along, devouring the road beneath it, Sunset looked at Lady Nikos and said, "What news from Mistral, my lady?"
"Mistral?" Lady Nikos responded. "Mistral is Mistral, in all its faults and all its glories too, as it had been these many years past." She paused a moment. "I suppose that is not entirely accurate; we have broken with our recent past in one crucial aspect: it seems that we are to raise an army."
Sunset stopped herself from asking why; the answer was plain to see: "Because of the Breach, ma'am?"
"Because Mistral is no longer certain that a small number of huntsmen can be relied upon to defend the city," Lady Nikos said. "Which, yes, is the result of this Breach in Vale; it concentrated many minds on what would have happened if such a thing had happened in Mistral. We have purchased androids from the Atlesians, and men are being raised in arms."
"What kind of men?" asked Jaune. "I mean, not huntsmen, I guess, so—"
"Poor fellows, I think, for the most part," Lady Nikos said. "Some will have a hankering for adventure, but I believe that more will have a hankering for steady pay and three meals."
"Meanwhile, you have sold your warships to the Valish," Sunset could not help but observe.
"Indeed, Miss Shimmer," Lady Nikos said. "I am not inherently opposed to the idea that Mistral should have an army — we have been haunted by the ghost of Ares Claudandus and his host for far too long — but either we have woken up to the need to look to our own defences, or we have not. Even if the two warships are old and obsolete, then I must believe they are better than no ships at all; to sell them before they have been replaced by newer vessels suggests that the security of Mistral is not being treated with the utmost seriousness."
"Then why are you raising an army?" asked Jaune. "Isn't that pretty serious, my lady?"
"Because it attunes with the agenda long held by Lady Ming and her Self-Strengthening movement," Lady Nikos said. "Long has she desired to restore Mistralian power upon the stage of Remnant. As I say, the idea is not inherently without merit, if properly implemented."
"And…" Sunset paused a moment, considering whether this was an appropriate topic of conversation with Pyrrha's mother. However, Lady Nikos had no doubt been following closely the ebb and flow of Pyrrha's reputation of late, and she had spoken about it with Pyrrha, granting her blessing to her challenge against Cinder. It would feel strange not to mention it. "And how fares Pyrrha's reputation, my lady?"
Lady Nikos was silent for a moment or two, her back unbending, her face unyielding.
"There have always been those who have resented either Pyrrha or the House of Nikos," she said, in a voice as hard as stones cascading down the mountainside. "Either for Pyrrha's own skill or for the fame that she possesses, for the place that she has in the heart of the people; or else for her name, thinking that the House of Nikos is too wealthy, too important still in Mistral, too … I sometimes think that there are some who think we are too extant and that things will not be well until the line of Nikos has been rendered extinct. Of course, the very things that they resented about my daughter made them quiet; her popularity made it impossible to speak out against her. Now that they have the semblance, the illusion of good cause, they, like maggots and worms, feel free to crawl out of the shadows where they have lurked and spew their bile openly."
Again she took pause.
"If Pyrrha thought that her victory over Miss Fall would silence all detractors once again, I fear that she was much mistaken."
"Then … then it was all for nothing?" asked Jaune.
Lady Nikos' eyebrows rose. "'For nothing,' Mister Arc? No, not for nothing, not in the least. Pyrrha proved that she was willing to answer her critics with her very life, and her victory has burnished up her reputation yet further. She convinced many who might have wavered in their convictions. But, as some philosopher or other has no doubt observed before now, you cannot reason someone out of a position that they were not reasoned into, and those who hated, feared, or loathed Pyrrha before this will not be reasoned out by such a thing as a battle to the death."
She took a breath. "But they are worms indeed, maggots and worms; I do not fear them. Pyrrha should not fear them either."
"Are you … are you sure, my lady?" asked Sunset. "I mean no disrespect, but Pyrrha has mentioned that there are, or were, moves afoot to strip her honours from the Temple of Victory."
"That will not happen," Lady Nikos declared. "Those who seek for it would need to prove much greater cause than they have in order to accomplish it. The last Champion to have their name erased and cast to oblivion was an attainted traitor to Mistral, who was seen by a whole army on the wrong side of a great battle. Compared to that, these allegations are nothing, mere words with no proof, just insinuations spewed out by some anonymous gossipmonger. That is not reason enough to go against the verdict of arms."
"I am glad to hear it," Sunset murmured. "Nevertheless, I … I must again apologise for placing Pyrrha in such a position, my lady—"
"You were deceived, Miss Shimmer, as I understand," Lady Nikos said. "That should, itself, be a subject for regret, but regret of a different sort than you express now."
"That … my lady is most generous."
"My lady sees clearly," Lady Nikos said. "It is an unfortunate state of affairs, I will admit, but envy is ever the lot of the great; the only way to avoid it is to settle for mediocrity, to live a little life, accomplishing nothing. Pyrrha is made for more than that by far. Aye, it is the lot of greatness … and the lot of Mistral too, I fear. Eighty years since the Great War ended, seventy-five years since Ares Claudandus was brought down, and our politics still feel … febrile, unsettled. 'The Princess Without a Crown'; so much weight would not be placed upon the Nikos name if there were not still those who hearkened to the restoration of the monarchy, if there were not those who feared the same in equal measure, if there were not those who thought the Council illegitimate or looked upon the Steward as a caretaker only.
"There has been much written, not least by we Mistralians ourselves, as to why Mistral has declined over the years, but I think that one reason is that we are not comfortable in the ordering of our affairs, we have not taken to the idea of a Council as Vale or Atlas have; it seems an alien thing, imposed upon us from without. Few love it, and yet, there is no consensus on what should be put in its place."
"Does my lady have any thoughts upon the matter?" asked Sunset.
"The Council is too small, for a start," Lady Nikos said, "There is no voice for the great families of Mistral, no way for any number of New Men to be shepherded to power and prominence. With a Council of five and two of those seats occupied by the Steward and the Headmaster of Haven, the lords and ladies of Mistral are left to scrap over what little power is yet available to them, while men of talent and ambition rage at the limited scope for their advancement. And all of this squabbling over the bones of a realm fallen in might and in majesty."
She paused a moment. "But enough of this; let gloomy talk of Mistral lie in Mistral where it belongs. How is Pyrrha?"
Sunset felt it was exceedingly fortunate that Lady Nikos was asking that now, and not just a little while earlier when she might have been forced to lie. "Pyrrha is in good health and in good spirits, my lady. She is in fine fettle."
"Is that so, Mister Arc?" Lady Nikos asked. "Is Pyrrha in fine fettle?"
"Yes!" Jaune yelped. "Yes, my lady, Pyrrha is … Pyrrha's great, Pyrrha … Pyrrha's doing great."
Lady Nikos looked at Jaune for a moment. "It was Pyrrha's birthday not long ago," she said. "How did you celebrate?"
Ah, yes, I should have expected that this would come up. "My lady," Sunset murmured. "I must confess that we … we have been … preoccupied of late. I fear the celebrations for Pyrrha's birthday were … not in keeping with her deserving."
"Is that so?" Lady Nikos asked.
"It is, my lady."
"Hmm," Lady Nikos murmured. "No doubt, that pleased Pyrrha very much."
Sunset could not restrain a slight laugh. "Indeed, my lady, she was not displeased."
Nevertheless, despite the fact that Lady Nikos apparently bore no malice over the fact, she did not mention the fact that they had missed the day until Pyrrha mentioned it.
She hoped that Jaune would not bring it up either.
"Nevertheless, I would have hoped for better," Lady Nikos declared. "Tell me, what is this preoccupation of yours?"
Many things that would, I fear, shock you into ageing yet further, my lady, Sunset thought. "A … we have a charge, my lady, laid upon us by Professor Ozpin. The headmaster's niece, Amber, was attacked, wounded, and spent some many months in a coma as a result. Now that she has awakened, Professor Ozpin, fearful that some villain may attempt to harm her again, has tasked us with protecting and caring for her. That is why Ruby couldn't be here to greet you alongside us; someone has to stay with Amber and ensure her safety while we are here and Pyrrha is recording. Pyrrha is very taken with her; they have already formed a close bond, but it has taken a great deal of our attention recently."
Lady Nikos' somewhat wrinkled brow was wrinkled yet further by a perplexed frown. "This seems somewhat strange to my ears," she said. "I can understand an uncle's fears for his kin, but why, and what gives him the right, to outsource that duty to his students? Let him hire a huntsman and let you concentrate upon preparations for the Vytal Festival!"
"I assure you, my lady, we are well-prepared for the tournament," Sunset said, glad to move the subject onto ground where there was not the need to tell so many lies or half-truths to Lady Nikos. "If we are selected, I give you my word that you will not find us wanting."
Lady Nikos might have questioned that more, but at the moment, they arrived at their destination, the cab pulling up in front of a tall, luxurious-looking hotel with a white marble or marble-seeming front, with great columns in the Mistralian style on either side of the door and stone gargoyles perched upon the higher levels of the building, looking down with ugly, leering faces.
Sunset couldn't see the appeal of such things, let alone why they had become a symbol of opulence, but nevertheless, a symbol of such they were.
Also a symbol of opulence was the doorman in a red jacket and top hat, with white gloves on his hands and polished brass buttons on his coat, who smiled as he opened the door of the taxi.
His smile faltered when he saw that it was Sunset Shimmer sitting there.
"Relax," Sunset told him. "I'm just here escorting my Lady Nikos." She climbed out of the cab, and gestured to where Lady Nikos sat. "She is your guest."
The doorman did a poor job of hiding his relief as he tipped his hat. "Welcome to the Hotel Majestic, ma'am."
"I have some luggage in the trunk," Lady Nikos informed him.
"Of course, ma'am," the doorman said, getting Lady Nikos' bags out of the boot of the taxi while Lady Nikos paid the cab driver, then she and Jaune and Hestia got out of the cab, which drove away while the doorman carried Lady Nikos' luggage inside.
Lady Nikos checked in and was shown to a palatial suite on the tenth floor. A four poster bed with soft silk hangings of royal blue sat facing the large window that looked across one of the nicer, more historic parts of Vale. There was a plush green footstool sitting at the foot of the bed and a complementary dressing gown with the ornate HM livery of the hotel picked out in gold upon it. The carpet was exceedingly soft under Sunset's feet, and there was a bowl of fruit — real or imitation, Sunset couldn't say — placed on a small table in the centre of the main chamber. The dressing table had a gilt vanity mirror and a faux-marble tabletop, while there was a luxuriant green armchair, a chaise-longue for reclining, and a working chair tucked beneath a writing desk all present, and that was before they got to the presence of an adjoining room for Hestia.
"This will serve," Lady Nikos declared, looking around the room. "Hestia, excuse us for a little while; I will call when I require you."
Hestia curtsied. "Of course, my lady," she said, and retreated into her separate adjoining room, shutting the door behind her.
Sunset and Jaune were left alone with Lady Nikos, who regarded them with keen eyes.
Her gaze settled upon Jaune.
"Miss Shimmer," she said, not looking at Sunset, not taking her eyes off of Jaune, "will you wait without? I would speak with you and will summon you, but for now, I would have private conference with Mister Arc."
Sunset bowed. "As my lady wishes."
XxXxX
Sunset left. Jaune really wished that she wouldn't.
He could feel the sweat beneath his armpits as Sunset retreated out of the luxurious hotel room, closing the door behind her with what seemed to him to be a very final thud. He could only hope that the black of his hoodie would hide the sweat stains from Lady Nikos' eyes.
Although if it started to drip down his arms, then she would certainly notice that. That was one of the reasons why he was holding his arms tightly against his sides.
Lady Nikos looked at him. She stared at him, her green eyes — so much colder than Pyrrha's, or so it seemed to him — drilling into him.
It was all very well for Sunset to tell him that he held the power in this relationship, on account of the fact that Pyrrha had chosen him over her mother, but that didn't change the fact that this woman frightened him. He wanted to cringe before her.
Come on, get it together; I've faced so much worse than this.
I faced down Reuben; I can face Pyrrha's mom as well.
But of course, there was a crucial difference there: Reuben thought that Jaune was worthless, and he had been wrong about that; Lady Nikos thought that he wasn't good enough for Pyrrha, and on that … well, she kinda had a point, didn't she?
"Please don't talk like that, Jaune; I hate it when you talk like that."
The voice was in his head, but it sounded like Pyrrha, to the extent that Jaune almost fancied that he could feel her breath on his cheek as she whispered into his ear.
She — he, whatever — was right; Pyrrha wouldn't want him to be scared here; she wouldn't want him to be afraid of her mother.
Jaune tried to straighten his back and push his shoulders back a little.
But he still kept his arms by his side, because he was still sweating.
Lady Nikos leaned upon her walking stick. He didn't remember her needing one before, although she'd walked with a limp. Had she gotten worse? Was she ill?
"Would…" Jaune swallowed. "Would you like to sit down, my lady?"
"If I wished to sit, I would sit, and need no permission from you before I did so, Mister Arc," Lady Nikos snapped.
Jaune winced. "Right. Of course. Um, my lady."
Lady Nikos closed her eyes, breathing deeply in, her grip upon the handle of her stick — it was silver, and shaped like the head of a phoenix — tightening until her knuckles whitened.
"Mister Arc," she said, her voice growing quieter, if not necessarily softer. "It appears … it is a truth that I owe you … an apology. Regardless of my opinion of you, it was a low deed on my part to lie to you as regards Pyrrha's … status, her … availability. I had the right to disapprove of you and to make plain my disapproval, but in deceit, I overstepped the bounds of honour and propriety. And for that, you have my regret."
Her words were stiff, and sounded as though they were being wrenched out of her gullet, but because of that, they didn't sound insincere; maybe they were — she'd already lied to him once, after all — but when she'd lied to him, the lie had come much easier than this sounded. And whether it was a lie or not, the fact remained that she was apologising to him. That was something, right?
"Apology accepted, my lady," he said quietly.
Lady Nikos' eyes narrowed. "That is it?"
Jaune blinked. "Isn't that what you wanted?"
"I did not expect it to be so easily done," Lady Nikos replied. "Is there no price you would exact for my misconduct?"
"I don't think there's anything you could give me greater than…" Jaune trailed off; it wasn't right to talk about Pyrrha as a thing he owned. "Even if I wanted you to pay, my lady, you've paid already with the months that Pyrrha wouldn't speak to you. It's done; it's over. I don't want to be your enemy, my lady; all I want … is to make Pyrrha happy. And while that might not be exactly what you wanted, you were trying to do what was best for her, as you saw it."
Lady Nikos looked at him. "That is very maturely spoken, Mister Arc," she murmured.
"Thank you, my lady?"
Lady Nikos turned away from him, moving stiffly towards the large window, as tall as Jaune or maybe even taller, that looked out over the city. "Do you know the origins of our family, Mister Arc?"
"I know that Pyrrha is descended from the Emperors of Mistral," Jaune said.
"Indeed," Lady Nikos said. "But beyond that? Do you know how our line began, or is said to have begun?"
"Um … with the first Emperor, my lady?" Jaune ventured.
"True, if rather obvious," Lady Nikos allowed. "But do you know who he was?"
Jaune hesitated. "No, my lady."
"No, I didn't imagine Pyrrha would have spoken of it," Lady Nikos said. "It would sit ill with someone who … wished to appear 'normal' to claim descent from gods."
Jaune swallowed. "From gods?"
Lady Nikos let out a soft laugh. "Yes, I did not think that Pyrrha would have spoken of it, although if you had attended Haven Academy, it would have been taught as part of the mythic history of our city. If one believes the myths and legends, then Theseus, he who raised the first buildings on the mountaintop and slew the arachne that dwelt in the catacombs beneath, he who united all the peoples who dwelt round about into a single polity and from whose line the Emperors of Mistral would spring, was the son of the sea god Tithys by a mortal woman. In the course of his labours, he fell in love with Alcestis, a companion hero in his quest and the daughter of the sky gods Seraphis and Re, and on their return to nascent Mistral, they were wed. If one believes in myths and legends; few enough do these days."
Jaune's mouth felt very dry, but he found his voice sufficient to say, "I think … I think that I'd prefer not to believe it, for the sake of feeling a little less inferior."
Lady Nikos snorted. "Yes, Mister Arc, I suppose that is one lesson to be taken from the story: inferiority. Who, after all, could compare against a god? Who could be worthy of the descendant of a god, or even an emperor?" She paused. "I confess that … that was my thought, looking at you, a Valishman of no birth, of no … nothing, wondering what in Remnant you possessed that would make Pyrrha look at you with such … eyes. You are a handsome youth, I will concede, sweet-faced and lithe of limb without descending overmuch into skinniness."
"Uh…" Jaune murmured, wondering if he ought to thank Lady Nikos for the compliment.
"And yet, there are many handsome youths in Mistral, or so I told myself," Lady Nikos went on. "Mistralian, and better born." She paused. "I own myself a hypocrite, Mister Arc."
"My … lady?"
Lady Nikos turned around, her back to the window, facing Jaune once more. "Has Pyrrha … has she talked of her father?"
Jaune shook his head. "No, my lady."
"I was not the beauty that my daughter is, even in the blush of youth," Lady Nikos admitted, "and yet, such was my wealth and the grandeur of my old name that I had many suitors. Suitors of families almost as old as mine, wealthy burghers well-connected in the Guildhall. And yet … I took the view that I was rich enough, or would be rich enough when I inherited from my father, and well born enough for myself and for any husband I might choose; I preferred a brave man to a wealthy one."
"You … married a commoner, my lady?" Jaune asked.
"Goodness no, Mister Arc; we must have some standards," Lady Nikos said dryly. "Achilles was a hippeis, do you know what that word means?"
Silently, Jaune shook his head.
"It means that, in days of old, he would have been considered wealthy enough to equip himself for war as a horseman," Lady Nikos explained. "I believe the Valish equivalent would be 'knight,' shorn perhaps of some cultural connotations." She paused. "I believe your father is a landowner, Mister Arc?"
"That … that's right, my lady," Jaune murmured. "It's not much, but—"
"And who stands to inherit?"
"My oldest sister, Rouge," Jaune said.
He thought about mentioning that Rouge didn't have any children of her own, but first of all, he wasn't entirely sure who it would go to after that — Saphron was the next oldest, but she lived far away, so it might go to River and then her children — and second of all, that was none of Lady Nikos' business anyway.
Lady Nikos gave a faint nod of her head. "So," she said, "are you a brave man, Mister Arc?"
"I … try to be, my lady."
"Mmm," Lady Nikos murmured wordlessly. Again, she paused a moment or two. "And do you understand what is…?" She trailed off, seeming to fail in choosing her words.
Jaune frowned slightly. "My lady?"
"One reads a great deal these days about Modern Young People," Lady Nikos said, with audible capital letters. "In Vale, in Atlas — although in this particular instance, it does not appear to be the root of modernity — and even in Mistral, of the … relaxing of social mores, of the lessening of standards, or perhaps it would be fairer to speak of the rise of new standards, different than those that came before. Of the … casualisation of relations between boys and girls, or boys and boys and girls and girls and what have you, so that that which the satirists of yesteryear railed against now seems staid and stuffy by comparison—"
"My lady," Jaune said, cutting her off, "I think I can guess where this is going, so let me stop you there and spare you the embarrassment of going on."
Lady Nikos raised her eyebrows. "That is very kind of you, Mister Arc," she said in a tone as dry as dust.
"I don't know whether you were going to warn me, or threaten me, or demand answers or something else," Jaune admitted. "But I can give you an answer all the same: this isn't something casual for me. I'm not planning to dump Pyrrha after a year, or two, or after graduation; I'm not about to use her and then throw her away; trust me, my lady, there's nothing you can say that I haven't heard already from Sunset, and I'll tell you exactly what I told her: that Pyrrha has given me her heart, and I mean to take good care of it, as she does mine.
"I love your daughter, and she loves me, and I don't see what else matters at the end of the day, my birth or hers or how much land my father owns, so what? It might matter to you, but it doesn't seem to matter to Pyrrha, and so … and so, it doesn't matter to me, either."
Lady Nikos' eyes narrowed. "You say that you try to be a brave man," she said. "I sincerely hope that it took some courage for you to say that, Mister Arc."
"Just a bit, my lady."
"Hmph," Lady Nikos muttered. "Eros, it seems, has struck Pyrrha with his irresistible arrows, and you as well, it would appear. That being so … who am I to stand against the decrees of fate?" Her mouth twisted into a sour expression, as though she would have rather liked to stand against such. "I would highly recommend that you remember Pyrrha's birthday next year, Mister Arc, and a belated gift for this year would hardly go amiss."
"Yes, my lady."
"You are dismissed," Lady Nikos declared. "Bid Miss Shimmer come in."
XxXxX
Sunset was standing outside the door as if on guard; it would have felt inexcusable, in the present circumstances, with Lady Nikos just beyond, to have slouched or leaned against the wall or do anything else but maintain a rigid, upright posture, perfectly poised as befit a gentlemare.
It felt a little bit as though she were waiting to be called into the princess' study for a dressing down.
Save that I have done … not nothing wrong, but nothing worthy of a serious scolding.
I've only forgotten Pyrrha's birthday and left us unprepared for the Vytal Festival.
I had good reasons for both of those.
Not that Lady Nikos knows that or can know that.
Our natural talent will see us through the latter, and as for the former … I am contrite; I have no good excuse, save that Pyrrha herself seemed little concerned by it.
If I were Lady Nikos, then I would be more concerned with the duel, but Lady Nikos approved of that.
I have little cause for apprehension. It is only the circumstance that makes me apprehensive.
The door opened, and Jaune stepped out, leaving the door open behind him. He sagged with relief.
"How did it go?" Sunset asked, ever so softly.
Jaune let out a ragged breath. "Better than I thought it would."
Sunset snorted, the corners of her lips turning up. "I can see that."
Jaune ignored that, saying only, "You're up."
Sunset nodded. "Are you going to wait for me or are you going to head back?"
"I'll wait," Jaune assured her.
"Thank you," Sunset said, clasping her hands together behind her back as she walked inside. With a deft touch of telekinesis, she shut the door — a quite heavy door; she had heard nothing of what passed between Jaune and Lady Nikos; evidently, this hotel took the privacy of its guests very seriously; how much could even Hestia overhear? — behind her.
"My lady," she murmured, bowing once again.
"Miss Shimmer," Lady Nikos murmured, before she shuffled across the room and sank into the expansive armchair, which absorbed her slender, bony frame as though it were a monster set to devour her. A sigh of relief escaped Lady Nikos' wrinkled lips.
Sunset frowned. "If my lady will permit me, that does not seem to be a mere case of stiff limbs."
"I told you once, Miss Shimmer, that I was old before my time," Lady Nikos declared. "I seem more Pyrrha's grandmother than her mother, and I am only getting older. Yet, what of that? I have given strength to Mistral, and glory renewed such as has scarce been seen these many years. If aching joints and infirm legs are the price that I must pay, then I will pay it with a high heart." She gestured around the room to the other chairs. "You may sit, Miss Shimmer, if you wish."
"Thank you, my lady," Sunset said and perched herself down upon the edge of the chaise-longue, her back straight, her shoulders back, her ears pricked up.
One advantage of sitting down was that it was harder for her tail to twitch, and harder still for Lady Nikos to see it.
"Does it upset you?" asked Lady Nikos. "The sudden upsurge in hostility to the faunus, I mean."
"I … am not a firebrand for faunus rights, my lady," Sunset said. "It offends me, but it does not fill me with a rage against injustice."
"I see," Lady Nikos murmured. "Mister Arc tells me that you warned him to take care of Pyrrha's heart."
"Did he, my lady?" asked Sunset softly.
"Yes, he did, Miss Shimmer."
"Then I hope you will forgive the presumption, my lady."
"I have no objection to it," Lady Nikos said. "Though it somewhat surprises me."
Sunset laughed just a little, and self-effacingly, she hoped. "I … I am conscious, my lady, that the unique glory of our sex — though indeed, it is no great glory to be coveted, nor is it always to our advantage — is that of loving longest, even when hope, or even existence, of… love, or of being loved in return, is gone. Men do not always appreciate that, nor should they always, but nevertheless, I sought to remind Jaune of it because … because Pyrrha is dear to me, my lady." If I may venture to say it, she has my heart, even as she has Jaune's. But no, she would not venture to say it, not to Pyrrha's mother. If taken sincerely, it would seem too saccharine; if taken insincerely, it would seem overly familiar, a ham-handed attempt to curry favour through protestations of devotion. Rather, she said, "Dearer, even, than my fondness for other young girls in love for whom I will confess a somewhat weakness."
"I see," Lady Nikos said softly. "Miss Shimmer, what is going on here in Vale?"
Sunset hesitated. "Would my lady like to be more specific?"
"My lady would indeed like to be more specific," Lady Nikos said, "but so much madness seems to have engulfed this kingdom that my lady scarce knows where to begin. Dust robberies involving the White Fang in alliance with local criminality; some sort of grimm cultist with an animus against my daughter dancing in the shadows; a plot to open a way for a horde of grimm to storm into Vale, red in tooth and claw; rumours of treachery; the Mistralian embassy blown up; battle after battle; and now, feelings against the faunus and the Atlesians running high. I say again, Miss Shimmer, what is going on? You tell me that Vale is safe, and I begin to wonder if you are either delusional or you think me beef-witted."
"I certainly do not think you stupid, my lady," Sunset assured her.
"And your delusions?"
"That remains to be seen, my lady."
Lady Nikos arched one eyebrow. "In the present circumstances, I do not find that very amusing, Miss Shimmer."
"Forgive me, my lady," Sunset begged. "I … it is true, that we have endu— we have experienced a great deal in one year, as has Vale…" And that was not even a comprehensive list, my lady. "To the extent, I sometimes feel as though we need a vacation to rest after everything that happened over our vacation." She sighed. "I can see how my words at the skydock might have sounded glib or nonsensical … what I meant was that, with the power of the Atlesian fleet, with the greater preparedness of the Valish forces, with the ships bought from Mistral, with so many students here … there is no risk of Vale being overrun, or at least, I do not think there is."
"I am glad to hear it," Lady Nikos said. "That does not answer my question, however; what is going on? I have heard from Polemarch Yeoh, who told me that Pyrrha warned that similar dangers may soon descend on Mistral, and over all kingdoms."
"I … see," Sunset murmured. Pyrrha hadn't told her that she'd said that, although it made sense that she would; there came a point, arguably, at which keeping secrets put others in danger. "How wide has this warning gone?"
"Polemarch Yeoh only informed me because she wondered if I knew of it," Lady Nikos confessed. "Beyond that, I think she has relayed it to the Lady Terri-Belle and to the Lord Steward."
"Not to Professor Lionheart, my lady?" Sunset asked. Of course, Professor Lionheart knew more already than Polemarch Yeoh could reveal, but it was odd that he had not been informed.
"Professor Lionheart is a servant; if the Lord Steward wishes to inform him, then he will," Lady Nikos said. "So it is true then, what Pyrrha said?"
"I do not think that all events over the past year are connected, my lady," Sunset said. "The destruction of the Mistralian embassy was the result of one fool's ambition and unconnected with everything else, but … yes, it is true. There are…" She paused.
Of course, continuing was made somewhat more difficult by the fact that she, Sunset, didn't know exactly what Pyrrha had said, to what she had attributed this grave menace threatening all the kingdoms.
It occurred to her that Lady Nikos had not mentioned that, and wondered if the omission was purposeful.
What might Pyrrha have said?
"There are those," Sunset said, "who are desirous to destroy the kingdoms of Remnant. The White Fang being likewise for a change in the status quo, it made sense for them to ally together — here in Vale, at least; I cannot say how the wider movement feels about all of this. Pyrrha is correct in that I fear they have the mobility and the will to strike in all kingdoms … although unlike Pyrrha, I am not sure that they have the means to do so."
"Indeed?" Lady Nikos said. "And why is that, Miss Shimmer?"
"Resources, capability, practicalities, my lady," Sunset replied. "It took Cinder half a year of preparation to launch her assault on Vale in alliance with the White Fang, with the aid — as you say — of the local criminal element. She had to acquire dust, build up her forces … and in a single day of fighting, all of that preparation turned to dust and ashes. Now, she is reduced to fighting Pyrrha in single combat. She has no plan, no means; the scorpion has lost its sting."
"Then why are there so many Atlesian ships left in the sky?" asked Lady Nikos.
"General Ironwood is a cautious man, my lady," Sunset said. "My point is, though there are those who would doubtless like to threaten Mistral, they do not have the power to do so."
"This Cinder Fall may not," Lady Nikos allowed, "but how do you know that there are not other cultists already in or around Mistral preparing their own designs against us, while Miss Fall worked here in Vale?"
Sunset was silent for a moment. Professor Ozpin did not seem particularly concerned that Remnant might experience simultaneous assaults on all the kingdoms at once; nor, for that matter, did General Ironwood, who would scarcely have left Atlas if he expected it to come under attack while he was away. But at the same time, they could be mistaken, and even if they were not, she could hardly say to Lady Nikos that Professor Ozpin acted as though Salem would only attack one place at a time.
"You are correct, my lady; I cannot say that for certain," Sunset admitted. "Although, if there were so many of these villains, then Cinder would hardly have needed to recruit the White Fang. I think these … cultists are few in number."
"I can see how you have come to that conclusion, even if it may not be correct," Lady Nikos allowed, "but how is it that you and Pyrrha have become caught up in this? Are there no seasoned swords able to guard Vale against this menace?"
"Apparently not, my lady," Sunset murmured. It then occurred to her that that might sound unnecessarily frivolous. "I apologise, again, my lady; that was … I think it is fair to say that we became caught up in this by … not quite by accident, but by a snowball. What began with trying to help a fellow student of ours, Blake Belladonna, became battles with the White Fang, which then alerted us to Cinder's true intentions, and so, without intending it to go so far, we were led step by step and mile by mile into the catacombs under Mountain Glenn."
Put like that, she realised, it all sounded … not like Blake's fault, per se, but something that Sunset could have put a stop to by giving Blake a good firm no at some point early on, when the second semester began, perhaps. What would their lives have looked like if she had?
What would Vale look like if I had?
"My lady," she said, bowing her head, "I am sorry that Pyrrha has become caught up in this; when I agreed to join with Blake upon some small matter, I little thought that it would lead to this, and yet … I fear that by the point it became clear that it would lead to this, or something like it, Pyrrha's heart heroic would not allow her to turn away. Pyrrha and Ruby are too bold; it has been all that Jaune and I can do to stand at their sides and share the perils with them."
"And now?" asked Lady Nikos. "Are there more perils yet to come?"
"A huntress' life is never free from such, my lady, but in the specific … I hope not," Sunset said. "Pyrrha need not have encountered Cinder after the Breach had she not sought her out herself, and … as I say, the scorpion has lost its sting: the attempt on Vale has failed, the White Fang are broken here, the stolen dust has all been expended." And the Fall Maiden is awake again, so even the hope of obtaining all the magic is beyond Cinder. Half the Fall Maiden's power is all that she possesses now, and that is not enough to break Vale by itself. All that she could try to do is take the Relic, and she doesn't know where it is or how to get at it. "Whatever Cinder or her allies might wish to do, they cannot do it, at least not for a while longer yet. I believe — I hope — that the storm has passed."
"And Professor Ozpin's niece?" Lady Nikos asked. "Was she attacked by this same group? Is that why she is in your charge?"
"She is in our charge because we are her contemporaries in age, and Professor Ozpin felt that she might be more comfortable with us than with distant, older huntsmen," Sunset said. She ventured a smile. "We are a very convivial group." She let the smile drop. "My lady … I do not begrudge your questions, or your concern, but the worst is past now; the battle is done. Please, allow no worries to distract you. Sit back, relax, and enjoy the tournament. It will be worth it, I guarantee."
XxXxX
It was evening by the time that Pyrrha called upon her mother. The curtains were not drawn in the hotel room, but the lights were on inside, dimming how much could be seen of the night-lit city beyond.
"Good evening, young mistress," Hestia said, curtsying to Pyrrha as she opened the door for her and stepped back to allow her inside.
"Good evening, Hestia," Pyrrha said softly, as she stepped into the room. "And how are you?"
"Very well; thank you, m'lady," Hestia said.
"That will be all, Hestia," Mother said as she got up from where she sat at the writing desk, putting aside a book.
Hestia curtsied again. "Yes, m'lady." She retreated into the adjoining room, closing the door behind her.
Pyrrha bowed her head. "Mother."
"Pyrrha," Mother said, crossing the distance between them somewhat slowly.
"Are you alright?"
"I am sick of being asked that; I am not dying," Mother snapped. She reached Pyrrha and gave her a kiss, first on one cheek, and then the other. Her lips felt cracked and a little dry upon Pyrrha's skin. "I am told that you could not meet me at the skydock because you were filming some sort of documentary?"
Pyrrha made a noise that was somewhere between a chuckle and a wince. "Yes, Arslan and I were doing some … interviews, I suppose you might say. Or talking head bits, as Arslan calls them."
"Being interviewed?"
"No, interviewing," Pyrrha explained. "Professor Ozpin and Doctor Oobleck on the history of the Vytal Festival, what it means to Professor Ozpin as Headmaster of Beacon—"
"Less perhaps, than it means to him to be defending Vale against insane worshippers of the grimm," Mother said.
Pyrrha's eyebrows rose. "You—?"
"Did you think that Polemarch Yeoh would not speak to me?" Mother asked.
"I didn't really think about it," Pyrrha asked.
Mother turned away from her and walked over to the chaise-loungue, sitting on it rather than reclining; perhaps she feared that she would not be able to maintain her dignity while in the reclining position, although it might have been better for her leg if she had lain down.
"Miss Shimmer believes that the danger is past," Mother declared. "I am not sure you feel the same way, or you would not have spoken to Yeoh as you did."
"I … am not sure the danger can ever be truly called past," Pyrrha murmured. "I understand Sunset's point, or rather, I believe that I can guess Sunset's point; I have even made something like it myself to the others—"
"But now you have switched positions?"
"If you would let me finish a sentence, Mother, I would much appreciate it," Pyrrha said quietly.
Her mother's eyebrows climbed up her wrinkled forehead. "You speak boldly."
Pyrrha wanted to smile at that, but restrained herself. "Beacon has been good for my confidence," she said. "So has Jaune. Thank you, Mother, for not treating him too harshly. He says that you were quite tame in your remarks, all things considered. Although did you have to tell him that we were descended from Tithys and Seraphis?"
"I told him that it was reputed in legend and myth; I did not claim it for a fact," Mother responded. A true lady, of course, did not smirk, but Pyrrha's mother came close to it as she added. "How did he take it?"
"Well, it didn't change his attitude towards me that I could tell," Pyrrha admitted, "but all the same, I wish you hadn't told him. It's all nonsense in any case, old superstition; there is no truth to it."
"You sound very certain of that," Mother said.
Because there are only two gods, and I am descended from neither of them. "I can believe that there may be forces at work in the world greater than ourselves, but I do not believe that they answer to the names of Tithys and Amphitrite, Seraphis or Re. If there was a Theseus, then he may have had a wife named Alcestis, but she was not the daughter of gods."
"'If'?" Mother said. "Someone founded Mistral, someone brought our people together on the mountain, someone founded the line of Nikos. That someone might as well answer to the name of Theseus as any other name, no?"
"I suppose so, Mother, yes," Pyrrha murmured. "My point is that I am glad you were not hostile towards Jaune."
"What would be the point of hostility?" Mother asked. "It would risk me much and gain me nothing. You love him?"
Pyrrha smiled. "Yes. Yes, Mother, I love him. With all my heart."
"And you are sure of him?" Mother asked. "This is no dalliance on his part, no fling; you are sure that he is not, as I believe the Valish say … dating you? Having some fun?"
"Those words sound strange upon your tongue, Mother," Pyrrha said, almost sounding amused.
Mother harrumphed. "They are strange to say; I hope never to have to say them again."
"In answer to your question," Pyrrha said, "I am sure of Jaune, yes; he is … he is mine, as I am his."
"You see him as your future?" Mother asked. "Marriage, children?"
"If our futures permit," Pyrrha said softly, as soft as the smile on her face. "If it is left up to our choosing, then yes, yes to both. He is a good man, Mother, brave and kind. There is more worth in that than in the long line of Rutulian ancestors."
Mother did not answer for a few passing moments, looking up at Pyrrha without speaking.
"I would not lose you," she said. "I confess, when you left my house, I did not expect you to prove so stubborn in this matter. I did not expect … I did not expect him to mean so much to you, that you would choose him over your own family. That is why I was not hostile to him today. You having made your choice, and proving your choice made with your behaviour … what can I do but accept it with what tattered shreds of grace remain to me?"
"Nevertheless," Pyrrha said, bowing her head, "you have my thanks, for your acceptance and for your apology to Jaune."
Her Mother breathed in deeply and exhaled just as deeply. "I suppose it would be nice to meet my grandchildren," she admitted. "Someone must tell them the stories of our house, of its legends, its history, its many glories; I am not sure that you would do it justice."
Pyrrha chuckled. "You are not so old as you look, Mother. If you do not hear the pitter patter of little feet about the house, it will be…" It will be not because you have been taken to the underworld, but because I have, or Jaune. It will be because fortune decreed our happiness should be short-lived.
"Mmm," Mother murmured, seeming to guess her thoughts. "And so we return, once again, to the matter of danger."
"In our lives, it is ever present," Pyrrha said, "and I would hate to become complacent. Sunset's point is well taken in that I do not expect another attack on Vale to come soon, but I would not predict that the future will be quiet."
Perhaps if I had killed Cinder, it would be different, but as I did not … who can say what she will do next?
"There is a tempest coming, Pyrrha."
When and where? In Vale? In Mistral? Soon or late?
Surely, Cinder cannot be ready to move again so quickly.
Perhaps she merely meant to discomfort and to worry me, although if that is the case, why was she so cordial up until then?
But if she meant to warn me, then why was she so cryptic about it?
"Miss Shimmer claims that you became involved in this business by accident."
"Yes," Pyrrha agreed. "Yes, I suppose that is true. Certainly, we had no idea when we started where the road would take us."
"Do you regret it?"
"No," Pyrrha said at once. "You said that, for Professor Ozpin, hosting the Vytal Festival must seem much less than defending Vale against this menace; you even came close to suggesting that the Vytal Festival was a rather trivial thing." It was not something she had expected to hear from her mother, to say the least. "He did not make it seem so." Although she thought that perhaps Professor Ozpin did think so, he had done a fair job of pretending otherwise. "He spoke of what the Vytal Festival means, why it was established, the ideals of peace and friendship that lie behind and underpin it … but, for myself, you have hit it.
"I have spent the last third of my life being acclaimed to the skies having done nothing. Acclaim in the arena, spoils dedicated in the temple, what of it? What of any of it? Once, generals rode in chariots through the streets to dedicate the spoils of real battles, real victories, accomplishments of meaning and import; I merely play-acted at empty copies of those rituals, shadowplay for the people; I was an entertainer, nothing more, and for that, I was called Invincible, declared the Evenstar of our kingdom, its pride and glory reborn.
"But now … now I am doing something real and important. I am saving lives; I am fighting battles that mean something, even as the great heroes and warriors of old Mistral did; I am becoming at last all the things that I pretended to be … even as I cease to be acclaimed for all those things. There is, perhaps, an irony there, but it does not dismay me. This is what I always wanted, one of the things I always wanted, at least; I am doing something for the people of Remnant, and I think…" Pyrrha closed her eyes a moment. "I think I am at last doing something of which my noble ancestors would not feel ashamed."
"What?" Rainbow asked, looking at her. "Yeah, I'm fine, of course I'm fine, why wouldn't I be fine?"
"Because you just said you were fine three times," Twilight pointed out. "And because you're making fists."
Rainbow looked down at her hands. She was, indeed, making fists. She hastily unclenched them both and let them hang down by her sides.
"I'm fine," she insisted, in the teeth of the evidence.
Twilight gave her a Look.
Spike also gave her a look that suggested that he didn't believe her either. It was weird.
"Twi, don't look at me like that," Rainbow said. "And you, especially, don't look at me like that. A dog shouldn't look so smart."
Spike, who was being held in Twilight's arms, didn't speak, thankfully, but he did switch from looking sceptical to looking smug. That might have been even worse.
"What's wrong?" asked Blake.
"She's worried," Twilight said. "Aren't you?"
Rainbow, Twilight — and Spike — and Blake were standing on the edge of one of Beacon's docking platforms. In the midst of an already crowded Valish sky, the Amity Colosseum was making its way above the city, moving so slowly that you might have almost thought that it was drifting, lazily moving inland towards Beacon, where it would stay until the tournament was over.
It was an impressive sight, but Rainbow's eyes weren't really on it, and her heart wasn't really in appreciating it.
Because the reason why Rainbow, Twilight, and Blake — and Spike — were standing at the docks wasn't to watch the Amity Colosseum arrive, but to wait for the Crystal Heart to come in from Atlas, with Councillor Cadance on board and Shining Armor and all the rest of their friends and little sisters.
And Rainbow … Twilight was right: Rainbow was worried.
She felt she had a right to be at least a little worried.
"Aren't you a bit worried, too?" Rainbow asked. "With what's been happening, with the feelings against Atlas that are coming out…"
"More police are being deployed into the tourist areas of Vale," Twilight pointed out. "Our friends, the girls, Cadance, they're not likely to go wandering off into the rough parts of town, are they?"
"No," Rainbow admitted. "No, they're not; they're gonna stick to the nice parts of Vale — you're right about that — but still … I'm not afraid they're going to die or anything like that, but that doesn't mean that I want their vacation to be ruined by some jackass yelling at them or insulting them or refusing to serve them or anything like that."
"I can understand that," Blake said, "but, considering that at the start of last semester a more valid concern would have been that if they came to visit for the Festival, then they might get caught up in a White Fang terrorist attack, I'd say that things have improved around here a lot."
Rainbow glanced at her and smiled out of one corner of her mouth. "Well, okay, yeah, you've got a pretty good point about that. I guess some ingrates getting mad about Atlas does feel like small apples compared to what was going on not too long ago."
Blake frowned. "Isn't it 'small potatoes'?"
"Apples are generally bigger than potatoes," Rainbow said, "and my worries aren't that small."
"Right," Blake murmured. "In that case, I think they could be smaller. And more potato-sized. After all, as you said, it's only the risk of being yelled at or refused service. That's not even something that would ruin a whole vacation, let alone cause harm. It's the sort of thing you get over ten minutes after it happened."
"If it happens once," Rainbow pointed out. "I just … I wish that things would calm down a little bit, you know? If there was absolutely no trouble at all, they wouldn't be putting more police into the uptown areas, would they?"
"I suppose not," Blake admitted. "But even so…"
"They'll be fine," Twilight insisted. "They're going to go from the hotel, to the skydock, to Beacon, and then maybe some sightseeing, shopping. They're not going on a mission to Mountain Glenn, they're not going on a train through grimm-infested territory, they're not fighting the White Fang. It's Vale, not a warzone. For all its troubles, it's still a kingdom, a safe-haven of humanity, and that means that it's safe."
"Yeah," Rainbow said. "Yeah, you're right. I … I worry too much."
"Sometimes," Blake said, "you worry just enough."
"And other times, yeah, you worry too much," Twilight added. "But we appreciate it. Most of the time."
Rainbow snorted. "I'm still going to tell Applejack about stuff so she can keep an eye on everyone."
"Of course you are," Twilight muttered.
"Hey, there's no reason I can't worry less and take precautions at the same time," Rainbow insisted. "I … I promised Aunt Holliday and Auntie Lofty that Scootaloo was going to be okay here; they were worried after the Breach."
"Who?" asked Blake.
"Scootaloo's aunts; they take care of her," Rainbow explained. "Because her parents—"
"Travel a lot," Twilight said. "For work."
"Oh, sure, they travel for work, and what work is that?" Rainbow demanded. "They're deadbeats, Twi."
"Sometimes," Blake said, "parents don't have any choice but to leave their children behind."
Rainbow returned her attention to Blake. "That's different. You wanted to … be left behind."
"That doesn't mean…" Blake trailed off. "Is it really your place to judge Scootaloo's parents?"
"I wouldn't," Rainbow said, "if Scootaloo … maybe you're right. It doesn't matter. The point is that Scootaloo is looked after by her dad's sister and her wife, and I promised them that Scootaloo was going to be safe in Vale."
"And she will be," Twilight insisted. "It's all going to be fine. Vale is going to be fine. Obnoxiousness doesn't equal danger, and the danger is over for now. You don't need to fret. If you really thought that Vale was still dangerous, you would have told them not to come. You would have told Scootaloo's aunts not to let her come. And you know that as well as I do. I think, sometimes, you just like worrying."
"I don't like worrying," Rainbow insisted. "I just have a lot to worry about."
"Mhmm," Twilight murmured.
"I don't!" Rainbow squawked. "Blake, back me up; do you think that I like worrying?"
Blake shrugged.
"Oh, great, thanks," Rainbow said. "It's great to know that I have a partner I can count on to have my back."
"I have your back," Blake said. "In battle. Outside of battle, if you need someone to tell you that you're wrong or being stupid or ridiculous, I'm here for you for that too."
Rainbow half-stared, half-glared at her for a second, before she huffed and crossed her arms across her chest.
Blake chuckled and put a hand on Rainbow's shoulder, stroking it gently back and forth.
"They will be fine," Blake assured her. "It's all going to be fine."
"Yeah," Rainbow murmured. "Yeah, it'll be fine, and we'll go back to Atlas with some great memories."
There was a moment of silence as the three of them watched the Amity Colosseum drift across Vale, getting larger and larger — slowly, but still — as it approached Beacon.
"I take it that this was an Atlesian idea," Blake said. "The similarities with Atlas itself are … hard to miss."
"I wish I could say that, but I think it was actually the Beacon Headmaster's idea," Rainbow said. "Not Professor Ozpin, some old Beacon Headmaster."
"Professor Osfred," Twilight supplied the name.
Rainbow frowned slightly. "Why do you think they're all called Oz-something? Maybe it's a rule; you have to change your name to get the job."
Twilight chuckled. "They're not all called Oz-something … just the ones who held the job longest and did the most. Anyway, he was the one who proposed a roaming arena. Before that, the fights were held inside the academies, until they found that there wasn't room for the size of the crowds."
"And then Mistral suggested that it should hold the festival permanently, since it had an arena large enough to accommodate the crowds," Blake said. "That part, I remember. Unsurprisingly, it didn't go down well with the other kingdoms."
"Hence Amity," Twilight agreed. "It's quite a sight, isn't it?"
It was, indeed, quite a sight. The Amity Colosseum was not the largest thing in the air — that was Atlas, by a long chalk — but it made the Atlesian cruisers in the sky around it look like minnows next to a whale by comparison, and even the carriers and those bulky Mistralian warships the Valish had bought looked small by comparison; just the docking bays on the arena looked so big that it almost looked as though you could park an Atlesian cruiser there and get the crew off. They probably weren't quite that big, but they were still very big considering that only skybuses were going to be landing there.
The arena was absolutely massive. Rainbow hadn't been able to believe how big it was when she got inside, but there were … well, she hadn't done an exact count, but she reckoned that there were about a hundred rows of seats for the spectators, all rising up from the bottom to the top, and that was without counting the special boxes for the elite spectators who got special service. And that was without taking into account the lounges for those same high class spectators and the concession stands for everyone else; you couldn't get a meal up there, but you could get popcorn or hotdogs; it was kind of like being at the movies except that there wasn't much plot — or, considering how the tournament tended to shape out, it might be more true to say that you had to make your own plot with help from the fighters themselves, who was the hero, who was the villain, who was the underdog going to go the distance. Rainbow was aware that labelling someone 'the villain' was not exactly in the spirit of the Vytal Festival, but she imagined that Robyn Hill had been a villain to the Mistralians after she beat Terri-Belle Thrax and ended Haven's best run for the title in years, just like she'd been a hero to Atlas for bringing it home in a year when Atlas had been hosting the tournament.
And then, of course, she'd thrown her hero status away by betraying the General and her uniform, but that hadn't happened until later. For that tournament, and especially for those final rounds, she had been the hero to one kingdom and the villain to another. What was one kingdom's triumphant story about rising to the top was another kingdom's bittersweet story of falling at the last hurdle.
It was like that every couple of years. That was just how it went. The Vytal Festival didn't have a plot like a movie did, but stories spun up around it nonetheless, just because of how important it was.
That was why there were so many sports stories about the tournament. Heck, they'd even been about to make a movie about Robyn Hill before she became an outlaw.
The Arena was shaped roughly like a cone, beginning with the large hunk of dust — it wasn't real dust, which you could tell because gravity dust was purple, and this fake dust at the bottom was grey, but it looked cool enough — sticking out of the bottom, shards pointing down towards the ground; there was a grey metal base, rounded like a bowl, curving upwards; then there the docking bays, two whole layers of them, with enormous arches that you could see in through a little bit, even at this distance; and then above that, giant panes of glass that you see all the lights and the cameras up top; and then, finally, the grey metal ceiling curling in on itself.
It was something to see for sure.
But as Rainbow watched it come in, moving slowly and carefully, her mind was more on what kind of stories would be spun around this tournament. Who would be the hero, who would be the villain, who would be the underdog.
Pyrrha. Pyrrha is going to be the hero. That's pretty much set in stone already.
Except for the people who still think she was working with Cinder; I guess to them, she'll be the villain.
"Rainbow Dash," Blake said, breaking into Rainbow's thoughts, "I've heard that you're thinking about going through to the one-on-one rounds of the tournament?"
"Did Twilight tell you that?" Rainbow asked, kind of amused.
"I didn't think it was a secret," Twilight said.
"It's not," Rainbow replied. "Not least because if I do it, then everyone will see me on TV."
"I'm a little surprised," Blake murmured.
"You weren't the only one," Twilight added.
"I…" Rainbow trailed off before she could say that she deserved this. "The only reason…" She searched for a way in which she could put this without sounding harsh, or down on Penny.
"Penny doesn't want to be an Atlas student," she said. "Penny doesn't want to be a part of the kingdom of Atlas. That's fine. That's her right. She wants to go to Beacon and be a Beacon student, that's also fine, and you both know that I helped her with that and I went to the General and I went to Cadance and I backed her up on that. But if she doesn't want to be a part of Atlas or an Atlas student, then she can't also turn around and say that she wants to represent Atlas in the tournament. Standing for your kingdom and your school in the limelight with all the world watching you is a privilege, not a right, and it's a privilege that Penny forfeited when she decided that she wanted out. Atlas deserves better than to be represented by someone who is going to tear their uniform off the second the lights go out." She paused. "That … that kind of got away from me a little bit; I'm afraid it sounded mean."
"Harsh, more than mean," Twilight ventured.
"A little … vindictive," Blake murmured.
Rainbow scowled. "Robyn Hill," she muttered.
"Pardon?" asked Blake.
"Robyn Hill, she…" Rainbow took a deep breath. "She told Penny that … that everyone would turn on her once she decided to walk away, because no one is allowed to walk away, but really … I'd like to say that she was as full of it as she is with everything else that she opens her mouth about, but … I get why Penny wants to leave, which is more than I can say for Robyn; I guess… the similarity, I don't know. I know that Penny isn't malicious, I know why she's doing what she's doing, and on the whole I support it. I'm not baffled by it, I don't find it incredible, I'm not mad at her, but … but this stuff matters. This tournament matters. You can say that it doesn't save lives, it doesn't make any real difference, you can say it's all play acting, it's irrelevant … but it's not. People watch this, and that's really cool if you're the one being watched, obviously, but the people who watch this are looking for heroes; kids are looking for someone to look up to. Like I was. I was eight years old sitting in a freezing cold house in Low Town with Gilda watching on a blurry old TV because all of the good TVs were for sale, not for us, and I watched this woman go all the way to the top, beating everyone who stood against her, Beacon students, Shade students, and in the end, she beat the great hope of Mistral and took the crown for Atlas. I watched a hero dominate the battlefield; she was smart, she was quick, she could adjust to changing conditions, she was a crack shot, and she could go close quarters against a close combat specialist and win. She had everything; she… she was Atlas, great and glorious.
"When I finally got to meet her in person, Robyn Hill, Colonel Hill, Vytal Champion Hill, I was … I was so honoured. So awed. Twilight, you remember when she came to Canterlot? I couldn't string two words together."
Twilight smiled and made an imitation of Rainbow's wordless gushing sound, an incoherent string of vowels lacking any consonants to give coherence to them. Her smile faded a little bit. "But Penny's not Robyn."
"No," Rainbow agreed. "No, she isn't, but … I don't want someone to look up to Penny and imagine that she represents the best of Atlas and then find out later that, no, Penny didn't want anything to do with Atlas. The folks back home deserve better than that."
"They deserve…" Blake began, but then trailed off.
"Don't," Rainbow urged. "Please don't say it; I'm not … I guess that I can't really say that I'm not doing it for myself, especially since that wouldn't be entirely true, but … I'm not saying that I'm the hero that Atlas deserves, but at least I'm going to stick around for a few more years."
"You didn't say any of this to Penny," Twilight pointed out.
"I didn't want her to think I was getting at her for leaving," Rainbow said. "I don't want to make her feel guilty; I just want to take her spot in the tournament."
"Midnight would have something to say about that," Twilight murmured.
"Yeah, I know she would; your computer's getting a real smart mouth," Rainbow muttered. "I'm not saying that you need to wipe her short term memory, because that would be wrong, but I'm pretty sure that you told me that computers that don't have regular memory wipes are at risk of developing personality quirks."
"Yes, that is true," Twilight admitted. "Although at least Midnight hasn't started to swear yet."
"What?" asked Blake.
"Hopefully, you'll never have to find out," Rainbow said. "But, back on the subject of heroes, have you thought about being put forward for the one-on-one rounds yourself?"
"No," Blake said. "Because representing my school and my kingdom is a privilege, not a right, and I lost that privilege when I decided to walk away to Atlas."
Rainbow blinked. "Okay, you've got me with that one."
"I can't be a hero to Atlas — not in the tournament, anyway — while I'm wearing a Beacon uniform," Blake said, "and Beacon, Vale, deserves a hero who is going to stick around for a couple of years. That means that either Yang or Nora will go forward to the one on one round for Team Iron, for Beacon and for Vale, and honestly, they deserve it. It'll probably be Yang, but either one of them will be great, and I'll be glad to cheer for them from the sidelines. I don't need to steal their spotlight."
Rainbow held up her hands. "I get it, I promise; it was a stupid idea, and I shouldn't have brought it up. You're right. It's kind of a pity, but you're right."
"There's always two years' time," Blake said.
"With only eight teams getting selected for each tournament, it's rare for any team to get two bites of the apple," Rainbow cautioned.
"But I won't have had my bite as part of Atlas," Blake reminded her.
All their eyes turned outwards, over Vale and out to watch the Crystal Heart swoop through the skies, cutting between the cruisers and the carriers, circling with nimble grace around the Amity Colosseum as she turned to head towards Vale.
The Crystal Heart was a sleek and elegant design, curving back from the sharp prow in beautiful curving lines so that there was barely an angle to be seen on the vessel. It was dwarfed by any of the warships in the skies, but at the same time, it was more than three times longer than a Skyray and able to travel long-distance without needing to stop for fuel or to pick up supplies for the passengers. It was luxurious too, more than most skyliners that Rainbow had travelled on, certainly more than any cruiser that Cadance might have travelled aboard. The yacht was painted a dazzling crystal blue so bright, it seemed to sparkle in the sunlight as it made its approach; eight fin-like wings upon the sides beat up and down as the Crystal Heart came in, so that she almost looked like an eel swimming through the sky.
As she flew in, Rainbow could see Pinkie's face pressed up against the glass of one of the windows.
Despite the Crystal Heart's size, there was still plenty of room to accommodate her on the docking pad as she banked sharply to the left, presenting her flank to the trio — and Spike — as she dropped down out of the sky and came to a stop atop the black tarmac surface.
The engines stopped, although they were so quiet to begin with that Rainbow barely noticed the difference. The wings ceased to beat.
There was a moment of stillness, where nothing happened; then, the door in the side of the ship, which had been invisible until now, slid backwards, into the rest of the airship's hull.
Rainbow braced herself.
"What are you doing?" Blake asked.
Rainbow didn't reply, since it would be obvious in just a second.
A set of steps began to descend down from airship to the docking pad, but before that—
"EVERYONE!"
Pinkie leapt out of the airship, eyes taking up more of her face than usual, arms outstretched as she flung herself through the air, bearing down on Twilight.
Rainbow shoved Twilight out of the way — gently, obviously, not like knocking her down or anything — and held out her own arms in turn, catching Pinkie as she fell.
And that, Blake, is why I braced, Rainbow thought, as she managed to withstand Pinkie's impact without getting knocked flat on her backside on the docking pad; although she was pushed back a foot by the collision, her feet scraping across the tarmac, she kept her feet and was able to turn in place, spinning Pinkie around like a toy airship for a couple of seconds before setting her down on the docking pad.
"Hey, Pinkie," Rainbow said. "You know, it hasn't been that long since you saw us last."
"I know," Pinkie acknowledged. "But I always miss you girls. Anything exciting happen around here since you got back?"
"Nothing as exciting as you getting here," Twilight said smoothly.
"Aww!" Pinkie cooed, reaching out to pull Twilight into a wrenching hug, which caused Spike to let out a yelp of protest.
"Oops, sorry Spike," Pinkie apologised as she drew back.
"Pinkie Pie! There was absolutely no need to rush," Rarity scolded mildly as she descended the steps, arms held out elegantly on either side of her. The sunlight glinted off the gold bracelets on her wrists, and a blue handbag hung from her elbow. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of very large sunglasses. "Twilight, darling." She held out her arms, but rather than hugging Twilight, she took Twilight's face in her hands and kissed her once on each cheek. She proceeded to do the same to Rainbow Dash — her lips were moist and felt soft — and Blake.
"Did I hear you right?" Rarity asked. "Nothing of import, nothing to report since we parted last?"
"Actually, yeah, there are a couple of things," Rainbow said.
"Hold on, y'all," Applejack declared as she and Fluttershy made their way down out of the Crystal Heart to join the others. "Wait for us, and you won't have to repeat yourselves."
"And we should maybe wait for the girls too," Fluttershy said softly. "Hello again, Spike."
"Hey," Spike said. "I mean, uh, woof. Woof!"
"What was that about waiting for us?" Apple Bloom asked as she, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo started to run down the steps.
"Don't run down the steps, Sweetie Belle," Rarity commanded.
"What were you going to do without waiting for us?" Scootaloo asked. "Is the tournament going to start without us?"
"Ah told y'all, the tournament don't get started for another few days," Applejack insisted. "I don't think they've even announced whose takin' part yet, have they, Rainbow?"
Rainbow shook his head. "The Beacon students are only having their Last Shot today, and then after that, Professor Ozpin is going to make his mind up, and then everybody finds out together tomorrow."
As Scootaloo reached the docking pad, Rainbow turned to her, bending down a little bit so that she was closer to Scootaloo's level. "How are you doing, kid?"
"I'm so excited!" Scootaloo cried. "I know that we came to visit you here at Beacon a little while ago, but this is my first time really visiting another kingdom! And for the Vytal Festival too!"
Rainbow grinned. "It's going to be awesome," she promised, because Blake had convinced her that it would be, that it wouldn't be ruined by a few Valish jackasses with chips on their shoulders, that everything … everything would be pretty much okay.
After all, they'd already beaten all the real dangers; what were a few bad tempers compared to that?
"Vale," Rainbow went on, "isn't Atlas, but it is a pretty nice place to see, and you have time for some sightseeing before the tournament starts."
"Anywhere you'd recommend?" asked Cadance, as she walked down the steps, accompanied by Shining Armor and … Maud Pie?
"Maud?" Rainbow asked, before remembering herself and coming to attention, saluting Shining Armor.
"Stand easy, Dash; no need to stand on ceremony here," Shining Armor assured him, reaching out to ruffle Twilight's hair with one hand. "How's it going, Twily?"
"I am glad this year is almost over," Twilight admitted. "It feels as if it's been exhausting. I'll be glad to get back to the lab. But, yeah, Maud, we didn't know you were coming."
"It's not just Rainbow Dash that's going to be fighting in the tournament," Maud pointed out, the words coming in that slow, considered manner out of her mouth. "It's Trixie and Sunburst too. How could I miss it?"
"So what was this exciting news that you forgot to mention the first time?" Pinkie asked.
"Blake," Rainbow said, putting one arm around Blake's shoulders and drawing her in a little closer, "has filed for her transfer to Atlas."
"It's not that exciting to you guys," Blake said, "Rainbow shouldn't have—"
"'Not that exciting'?" Rarity exclaimed. "Darling, that's tremendous news."
"Not least because it means we'll be seeing so much more of you from now on," Pinkie added.
"Welcome to the club, sugarcube," Applejack said with an approving nod.
"Does that mean you want to become an Atlas specialist?" asked Scootaloo.
Blake nodded. "Eventually, after I graduate, yes."
"Wow," Scootaloo said. "I wouldn't have expected that from when we last met."
Blake snorted, a smile playing across her face. "Thanks to Rainbow Dash, I … I've changed quite a bit since we last met."
"We've changed each other," Rainbow said. "And that isn't Blake's only piece of news either—"
"They don't need to hear—"
"Blake's mom arrived all the way from Menagerie to see her," Rainbow said.
"Oh my goodness!" Fluttershy gasped. "That sounds like quite a trip."
"Ain't no trip too long for a mama to see her little girl again," Applejack declared. "Ain't nothin' like a family, and nothin' more important."
"But, if I may, how did your mother know to find you here?" asked Rarity. "I thought you weren't in contact."
"We weren't," Blake said. "But someone—"
Rainbow chuckled nervously. "Hey, it all worked out for the best, didn't it?"
"Someone decided to write to my mother without telling me," Blake said.
"Tsk, Rainbow Dash!" Rarity said, shaking her head, making her hair bounce a little bit. "Really?!"
"Well I knew that Blake was never going to do anything on her own," Rainbow said. "I had to take steps."
"Even so, darling, it does sound rather … well, rather in-character for you, I must admit," Rarity said.
"Uh … thanks?" Rainbow murmured. "Anyway, Blake, tell them that you're actually happy with what I did."
"No, because I still haven't entirely forgiven you," Blake said. "Yes, I … I'm glad that I had the chance to make things right with Mom, and I'm glad that she's here, but at the same time … you girls understand, right? I can be okay with the outcome without excusing what Rainbow did to bring it about."
"Makes sense to me," Applejack said. "You should have told her, sugarcube; you should have told her what you were gonna do, or you should at least have told her after you'd done it."
"Like you should have told me that you didn't like my pies," Pinkie added.
"Or you should have told me that—" Fluttershy began.
"Okay, okay, I get it, but I only lie to you when I'm trying to help."
"But it don't help," Applejack replied. "Does it?"
"Actually, in this case, I think it did help Blake a lot," Rainbow said.
Applejack's green eyes narrowed.
"I'm still going to swap your guns out with the toys if and when they ever come out," Blake informed her. "I'm going to beat Neon to the punch."
"Oh, really?" Rainbow asked, folding her arms. "Well, now that you've told me, you won't take me by surprise."
"Won't I?"
"No," Rainbow said. "No, you won't."
"Your mother," Cadance murmured. "That would be the Chieftainess of Menagerie?"
"And she came all the way here, to Vale," Cadance said. She smiled. "She must love you very much."
Blake looked away, a flush of colour rising to her cheeks. "Perhaps a little … too much," she murmured.
"I'm not sure that it's possible to be loved too much, especially not by your parents," Cadance said. "As much as I'd hate to get in the way of your mother-daughter time … I'd like to meet her, if I may?"
"Of course!" Blake said, her voice rising. "I'm sure that she'd be honoured to—"
"The honour," Cadance said, cutting Blake off with a shake of her head, "would be all mine."
XxXxX
The queue to get into the Beacon amphitheatre was so big that it extended outside the building and spilled into the courtyard beyond. It was somewhat disorganised, less of a true queue than a serpentine mass of people crammed together, like a great beast which, as one got closer, one could see was not a beast at all but a mighty host of little creatures that only appeared to form a single, greater whole. They spilled past the doors and out into the courtyard beyond, students of every year all pressed together, teams sticking together in lines or clumped together.
Professor Port strolled up and down one side of the line, offering encouragement to certain teams or students in between ineffectually exhorting the line as a whole to settle down.
As one of the taller students, Pyrrha was able to look over the heads of many of her fellows — especially when she rose up onto her tiptoes — and see that the doors were forming something a chokepoint; beyond that, she guessed that the corridors into the locker rooms were slowing down the movement of students into the building.
"We should have got down here sooner," Sunset muttered.
"We'll be fine," Pyrrha assured her. "They aren't going to begin until all of the students are ready."
And it did seem as though all the students, or nearly all, wished to take part in this, the Last Shot before Professor Ozpin made his choices for the Vytal Tournament. Looking around, Pyrrha could see Yang's bright yellow hair, she could see Cardin looming above the press — although Weiss was hidden amongst the crowd, too small to be picked out — she could not see anyone from Team BLBL, but they were the only team that Pyrrha knew were not and would not be here. They had no interest in the tournament, it not being possible for them to compete with only three members, and so they were keeping Amber company in Team SAPR's absence.
With Professor Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch needed to supervise Last Shot, Ruby's uncle Qrow Branwen was handling Amber's protection. Pyrrha hoped that he didn't bring down the mood by his presence overmuch, although as an older man, he would probably be at least somewhat inhibiting.
Unless, of course, he chooses to keep a discrete distance.
"How much longer, do you think?" Ruby asked, unable to see anything over anyone's head and, thus, completely at the mercy of reports from Pyrrha and Jaune.
"We're moving," Jaune said as the whole heaving mass shuffled forwards slightly.
"Slowly," Ruby grumbled. "Sunset, can you teleport us into the locker rooms?"
"I'm not sure that would go down particularly well," Pyrrha murmured.
In the meantime, the delays as the queue moved slowly forwards did provide ample opportunity to look up at the Amity Colosseum as it drifted over the cliffs and over the grounds of Beacon itself, as if the arena itself were coming to look down upon all these students who wished so much to compete upon the shifting surface of the arena; as if it was the Colosseum itself, and not Professor Ozpin, who would be choosing which of the eight teams would receive the coveted honour and compete to win the laurel crown of victory.
Jaune looked up at it as well. "I know that you mentioned that it was a flying arena before," he muttered. "But even so … whoa."
"First time seeing it?" Sunset asked.
Jaune nodded, without taking his eyes off the floating arena.
"Me too," Sunset said.
"Really?" Jaune asked, jerking his head in Sunset's direction, if only for a moment. "I thought you would have … I'm surprised."
"First time seeing it with your own eyes, I could believe," Pyrrha said, "but you didn't watch the last tournament on television?"
"Why would I want to watch other people having more fun than me?" Sunset asked. "Why would I want to watch other people basking in the love of the crowd while I was … languishing in … while I was not basking in love and honour, let's put it like that."
Now it was Sunset's turn to turn her eyes upwards towards the Amity Colosseum. "It's an impressive sight, isn't it?"
"I can't see it very well from down here," Ruby grumbled, "but I remember it was really cool inside."
"It has been some time," Pyrrha murmured. "But from my memories, I appreciate the effort to approach an authentic arena experience … although it does look a little odd in metal, rather than in stone; it makes it look … very modern."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Sunset pointed out.
"Not a bad thing, exactly," Pyrrha replied. "Rather … the Amity Colosseum has many years of history behind it by now; it has many stories to tell, it has borne witness to many things … and yet it does not seem so, if that makes sense.
"When I wait in the tunnel of the Colosseum in Mistral, I can see where those gladiators who came before me, stretching back into ancient times, have carved their names into the stone. I can reach out and feel where their fingers have weathered the building blocks. Just outside the arena itself, there is a statue of Eulalia, loud of the war cry, whose foot, by tradition, ought be touched for luck by gladiators about to fight that day; her foot has been touched so often by so many that it has been worn down and looks deformed and misshapen. It is clearly the place of history that it is in fact; Amity Arena, for all its wonders, seems to have been finished only yesterday." Pyrrha paused a moment. "It matters little in the grand scheme of things, I know, but…"
"It still looks really cool, though," Jaune said.
Pyrrha chuckled. "Yes," she agreed. "Yes, it does."
"I didn't think it would be so big," Jaune went on. "Is it as big as it looks?"
"It's huge when you get inside," Ruby said. "The crowd all just kind of blurs together, you can't make out more than the people nearest to you, it's like … it's like being in a city."
"A city with all eyes upon us and our deeds," Sunset said softly.
"No pressure, then," Jaune muttered. He looked at Pyrrha. "Any tips?"
Pyrrha smiled at him as she placed a hand upon his shoulder. "You won't notice," she told him. "That may not sound plausible, it may sound as though I'm just saying something to make you feel better, but I'm not. Yes, you are aware when you go in, you see the crowd, and more importantly, you hear the crowd thundering in your ears—"
"That doesn't sound like not noticing," Jaune pointed out.
"—but once the battle starts," Pyrrha went on, "once swords are drawn, once combat is joined, then there is nothing but your opponent, nothing but the struggle. Everything else … falls away: the crowd, the arena, the rest of the world itself beyond the battlefield. If it doesn't … you aren't taking the battle seriously."
"There must have been times you didn't take the fighting seriously," Sunset pointed out. "There must have been times you knew you could win with one eye closed."
"I always gave my opponents the honour of my full concentration," Pyrrha said, which was not entirely an answer to Sunset's question, although she did give more of an answer when she followed up with, "Not least because so many of my opponents would have punished me severely had I done anything less."
Sunset didn't say anything, but the look on her face, the faintest hint of a smirk, told Pyrrha that she had caught what Pyrrha had said — and what she had not said.
The queue had shuffled forward to the point that they could actually get into the amphitheatre, joining the flow of students moving through the outer corridors, past the doors leading directly into the main chamber, into the locker rooms. All of them were already dressed for battle, with no need to actually change clothes, but they all needed to get their weapons out of their lockers.
Sunset also had to gird her armour on, strapping her vambraces around her wrist and fastening her cuirass across her chest. She discreetly — but not so discreetly that Pyrrha didn't notice — brushed her fingertips against the welded patch where Adam had run through her cuirass, as though she were touching the foot of Eulalia for luck.
All armed, and all armoured where armour was applicable, they proceeded out of the locker rooms and into the main amphitheatre. The lights were down, as though this was a movie theatre and they had arrived after the trailers had already started running, and the four of them had to fumble their way through the crowd somewhat looking for seats.
"I hope we don't get drawn against Team Iron," Ruby murmured.
"We could take them," Sunset said. "We had them on the ropes before Amber freaked out."
"I heard that," Yang said cheerily. "Hey, Ruby, come over here."
Ruby led the way as they scurried across the room to take the seats next to Team YRBN.
"You absolutely did not have us on the ropes," Yang declared. "I was about to dump Jaune out of the arena—"
"Pyrrha would have stopped you before you could," Sunset said. "Or I would, or Ruby would."
"Only if you could have gotten past Nora and Blake," Yang replied, her voice starting to rise a little. "If we go again, you'll see that Pyrrha can't be everywhere."
"You can't be everywhere either," Sunset said. "Especially when you're tied up with Jaune."
"Quiet please, everyone," Professor Goodwitch said, her voice carrying across the auditorium despite her lack of a microphone. She stood in the centre of the stage, the spotlight upon her, the only person or thing illuminated in the auditorium. "Professor Ozpin will say a few words before we begin."
Professor Goodwitch stepped aside, and Professor Ozpin walked into the spotlight, coming to a stop more or less where Professor Goodwitch had been standing just a moment ago.
He leaned upon his cane and looked around the room in silence; his eyes seemed to be able to pierce the darkness, to see the huntsmen and huntresses sitting in the dark.
To see Pyrrha sitting there amongst her teammates.
Pyrrha could not help but wonder if he would not rather be somewhere else, with Amber perhaps, doing something other than watching students compete for a place in what might seem to him to be a rather irrelevant celebration. He had done a good job of concealing the fact that he found this whole business to be trivial and banal when Pyrrha and Arslan interviewed him, but she was certain that he could not take it as seriously as the rest of Remnant took it.
Professor Ozpin stood in silence for a few moments, moments which seemed to stretch out some little time, before he spoke. "It gladdens my heart to see so many eager young faces here today, keen to represent their school and kingdom. For those of you who don't know, and must have wandered in here on the basis that everyone was headed this way—"
A soft chuckle ran around the auditorium.
Professor Ozpin smiled ever so slightly as he went on, "—the Vytal Festival that has been crawling towards us since the year began will be upon us very soon now, and even sooner, I must select those teams which will carry the honour of Beacon and of Vale into battle in this, the fortieth Vytal Festival tournament. The purpose of this tournament is not only to celebrate the continued blessings of peace that have prevailed in Remnant since the end of the Great War, but also to remind each and every one of you to always strive to better yourself, to reach for new heights, to never settle for mediocrity or even for second place.
"To that end, I will select just eight teams to compete against eight teams from each of your three fellow academies of Atlas, Haven, and Shade. I will select those teams which, in my judgement, best embody the Vytal ethos of constant striving for improvement, which best embody the values of this academy, who have demonstrated a constant commitment to their studies here, and, yes, those which display a superlative skill in combat. It is a little late, to say the least, for you to do much about my first three criteria, but today is a final opportunity, a 'last shot' if you will, to demonstrate the last.
"Please take note that this is not a tournament. Victory does not guarantee you a place in the chosen eight teams, nor does defeat doom all your hopes. All you can do today, all you need do today, is show me what you're capable of."
Professor Ozpin glanced outside of the spotlight. "Professor Goodwitch, when you are ready, please call the first match."
With that, Professor Ozpin stepped back out of the spotlight and presumably — it was hard to make out in the darkness — made his way off the stage to find some spot from which he could observe the contests. The stage itself became fully lit up, so that the combatants in the battles about to begin could at least see one another, and revealed that Professor Ozpin was indeed doing just that, although as soon as he left the battlefield, he was lost to Pyrrha's sight once more.
The lights also illuminated Professor Goodwitch, whose head was down a little to check the tablet — larger than a scroll — cradled in one arm. "The first match of the day will be—" — she pushed a button, and the images of the four members of Team WWSR appeared on the right hand side of the screen opposite four students that Pyrrha didn't recognise — "Team Wisteria versus Team Onyx."
"Go Flash!" Sunset yelled, pumping one fist as she half rose out of her seat.
People turned to look at her. Sunset didn't look nearly as abashed about that as Pyrrha would have felt, as Pyrrha did feel just by being nearby.
"What?" Sunset said. "Are we not supposed to say anything?"
"There is no prohibition against cheering, Miss Shimmer; it's just customary to wait until the two teams are actually in the ring," Professor Ozpin said, mirth in the voice that emerged, unseen, from out of the darkness.
Team ONYX swaggered up onto the stage, looking for all the world as though they had already won the battle.
Pyrrha frowned at that, it was a kind of attitude she had seen more than once — though it hadn't been directed against her in quite some time — and she never liked it when she saw it; no matter who your opponent was, you should do them the honour of taking them seriously.
Pyrrha herself tried never to take her victories for granted, and no matter how many times she fought Arslan, she never allowed herself to forget that this might be the day that her record of victories came to an end and Arslan paid her back for all her prior triumphs. That was the courteous thing to do, but it was also the pragmatic thing: there were few things a crowd liked better than to see a swaggering braggart taken down a peg or two by an underdog.
That was one of the reasons why Phoebe was not a favourite of the crowd.
In any case, Team WWSR took to the stage to face off against their older opponents. Aside from Sunset's shout, nobody cheered for them; in fact, as they made their way up onto the stage — Pyrrha could see Weiss better than most others, dressed in white as she was she shone like a star, even in this darkness — it seemed as though the four members of the team were afflicted by a chill wind that blew around them, piercing their aura and biting them to the bone.
Weiss kept her chin up, but she moved with a sort of brittle grace, as though she might shatter if put under the wrong sort of pressure.
How many people think Weiss to be her father? How many of them cannot see her for who she is?
The embattled team mounted the stage and gathered together, where Weiss whispered something to them, her arm sweeping out across the battlefield in broad gestures.
Team ONYX, on the other hand, seemed to find strategy beneath them; they waited with a patience no better disguised than their contempt.
Perhaps it was Pyrrha's hopeful imagination, but she half-thought she saw Professor Goodwitch glower at them slightly as she cleared the way for the ensuing battle.
"Begin!" she cried.
Team WWSR split into two pairs, Cardin and Russel on one hand, Weiss and Flash on the other, each taking one flank of the stage. At first blush, Pyrrha thought they meant to try and catch Team ONYX in a pincer, but as ONYX in turn split up by pairs, Pyrrha recognised that that had been the aim of Weiss' plan: to split their opposition and force them to fight two on two.
It was a decision that was not altogether to the advantage of Cardin and Russel. The two of them did better than some might say they had a right to, their coordination and teamwork making up for the fact that, individually, they were neither of them the strongest fighters, but although they did better than, on their individual merits, they ought to have done, although they managed to whittle down the aura of the two students opposing them, eventually, they were both taken into the red, and eliminated.
But by that time, Weiss and Flash had demolished their opponents.
Cardin and Russel had worked together to be better than they were individually; the same was true of Weiss and Flash, but to a much greater extent. Weiss was as nimble as a fly on the wing, as a dragonfly dancing through the air, gliding and leaping on her glyphs of solemn black and gleaming silver-white, while Flash was like a rock, or a safe harbour from the storm, whom Weiss could retreat behind when she was hard-pressed by their opponents. Weiss would emerge from out behind Flash, zipping across the stage, striking with dust, holding one enemy in place with a glyph, cutting the two of them off from one another so that she could fence with one without fear of the other. And then she would retreat, taking cover behind Flash's shield and his semblance while he lashed out with his long spear, holding their enemies at bay.
And in this way, they knocked out two of their opponents, and then turned on those who had just eliminated Cardin and Russel.
By this point, whatever the wrongs of the Schnee Dust Company, it wasn't only Sunset cheering WWSR on as they eliminated another of their opponents. There was only a single member of Team ONYX left, Orlando Adrian by name, and he was sweating profusely as he backed away from the opponents who now outnumbered him just as surely as they had shown that they outclassed him.
Flash took a step backward. Weiss took a step forward. She raised her rapier in a gesture like a salute, as a glyph like the gears of a ghostly clock began to form beneath her feet.
Orlando charged at her, his axe drawn back to strike, but already, his movements seemed slow, sluggish, trapped in treacle.
Then Weiss charged. She was a white blur, dancing from glyph to glyph which appeared in the air all around Orlando, trapping him in a maze of white as Weiss leapt from one to rebound off the other, and with each pass, she dealt her opponent another blow.
When the buzzer rang to signal that Orlando's aura was in the red, it looked as though Weiss could have kept going for twice as long.
"Team Wisteria stands victorious," Professor Goodwitch said, and although she tried to keep her voice dispassionate, Pyrrha thought that she could detect a note of pride there. "Congratulations."
Orlando got heavily to his feet. "This isn't fair," he grunted.
"And what, precisely, do you find objectionable, Mister Adrian?" Professor Goodwitch demanded, sounding rather more prickly than sympathetic.
"Atlas already has eight slots," Orlando growled. "Why do they need to steal one of ours?"
Pyrrha gasped, scarcely able to believe that he had said such a thing; she thought that she heard others gasp as well. That was … completely contrary not only to the spirit of the Vytal Festival but also to the founding principles of the Academies themselves.
It was, with no offence intended to Rainbow Dash — or, indeed, to General Ironwood — the sort of attitude she would have expected to hear from an Atlas student rather than a huntsman of Beacon.
Professor Goodwitch was deathly silent as she pushed her spectacles back up her nose. "Miss Schnee and Mister Sentry are students at Beacon Academy, Mister Adrian; now, if you will please vacate—"
"They think that they can just take whatever they want like they—"
"Mister Adrian!" Professor Goodwitch snapped. "Another word from you, and you'll be spending the Vytal Festival picking up litter around the fairgrounds. Clear the stage so that the next match can begin."
And so it went. Teams were called up two by two, and in their pairs, those teams of four made their way onto the stage and fought until one was the winner and the other was not. Team YRBN won a hard-fought bout against second year Team CFVY, a battle so hard fought that, by the end of the combat, Ren and even Nora had both been eliminated, and the auras of Yang and Blake were only a feathers' breadth away from entering the red.
Nevertheless, Team YRBN were the winners, and as she stood with her aura almost drained, Yang had an enormous smile upon her face, the biggest smile that Pyrrha had ever seen on a face that was never slow to smile.
Such was the power of the arena, a magic beyond the reach even of a Maiden.
And so it went, match after match, until the images of Team SAPR appeared on the right hand side of the screen.
"The next match," Professor Goodwitch announced. "Is Team Sapphire versus Team Grey. Please make your way onto the stage."
Pyrrha got up, studying the names of their opponents of Team GRAY as they were written beside their headshots: Gregory Douglas, with a beefy, bullet-shaped head; Rue Farran, with iron grey hair combed to fall entirely down the left hand side of her face; Aspidistra Glaucus, whose blue-grey eyes were large and stormy; Yarrow Lloyd, a deer faunus who had shaved his head down to stubble around his antlers.
She could see Sunset studying them as well, though less their pictures and more their opponents themselves as they got up onto the stage: Gregory was huge and carried an enormous zweihander with what looked like fire dust infused via the pommel much like Jaune's blade; Rue carried a trident in one hand and a net in the other; Aspidistra looked to be armed with a fasces, the bundle of rods with an axe shoved into it that had once — the practice had fallen into disuse as magistrates lost the power of life and death over their fellow citizens — been carried in Mistral by attendants upon the Emperor and their legates; Yarrow had a staff, or at least it looked like a simple staff at the moment.
Sunset bent down to whisper in Ruby's ear as they climbed up onto the stage. "Ruby, what do you think of that fasces?"
"The what?"
"The rods and the axe."
"Oh. I think it's a rotary cannon until it's an axe. And I bet that net is infused with lightning dust."
Sunset nodded. "Okay, we're going to do a Lancaster straight serve to take out that cannon before she can fire, then Pyrrha, you're going to go for the big guy; Jaune, go for Rue but then castle Queen and Rook at Jaune's discretion; I'll cover you and then help Ruby deal with the last guy if she needs it. Understood?"
"Yes," Pyrrha said. It rather amazed her how Sunset had come up with that so quickly, and it all made sense too.
"Good luck, Team Sapphire!" called out the recognisable but, at the same time, surprising voice of Penny from out of the darkness.
Pyrrha wondered briefly how she had gotten in here, but then realised that the real question was whether anyone who noticed her coming in would have cared enough to stop her. After all, unlike the Mistralian qualifiers, winning or losing in these matches did not explicitly yield or cost a tournament slot. Nothing was being revealed here that demanded secrecy.
And it was nice to have another friend down in the pits.
"If both teams are ready," Professor Goodwitch said as the two teams squared off against one another. Team GRAY did not, at least, look as though they were taking the threat of Team SAPR with anything less than complete seriousness; whether that was because the reputation of SAPR went before them or they were simply more sensible than ONYX had been, she could not say. The audience were completely silent, and Pyrrha could sense the anticipation rolling off of them like fog. "Begin!"
The fasces was a rotary cannon. No sooner had Professor Goodwitch given the word than Aspidistra lowered it to take aim as the axe began to retract and the rods began to reveal themselves as rotary barrels.
But even as that was going on, Ruby had leapt onto Jaune's shield, angling her body straight towards Aspidistra Glaucus.
When Aspidistra's barrels were still arranging themselves, Jaune's semblance had spread around his shield and up Ruby's legs.
When Aspidistra's cannon was assembled and ready to fire, Ruby had already launched herself across the ring in a shower of rose petals. Her own weapon formed in her hands, Crescent Rose expanding, almost erupting, finishing its extension as it slammed, barrel first, into Aspidistra's chest.
Ruby fired, Crescent Rose booming forth as the combined force of shot and impact combined to throw Aspidistra clean off the edge of the ring and into the auditorium, even as Ruby was blasted backwards by the counterforce. The klaxon blared as a red X defaced Aspidistra's portrait, and even as the other members of Team GRAY were turning on Ruby, she had swung her scythe to cut Yarrow's legs out from under him and knock him off his feet.
Pyrrha and Jaune were both in motion by now, and as she ran, Pyrrha converted Miló into rifle mode and fired a shot at the back of Gregory's head in case he forgot that Ruby wasn't his only opponent. Sunset fired too, a fire dust round exploding against his shoulder, but it was to Pyrrha that Gregory turned as she charged towards him, Miló forming a sword in her hands as she adjusted her hold upon it appropriately.
Sunset fired again, Sol Invictus cracking behind Pyrrha, and this time, she must have fired an ice-dust round, because the big huntsman's leg was enveloped in ice, sticking him to the stage.
Pyrrha charged straight at him. He swung his enormous sword down at her, but Pyrrha skidded, sliding along the floor of the stage so swiftly that his blow and all the fire that exploded where it landed struck the point at which she had been a few crucial seconds too late as she skidded between his legs. She slashed with her sword at his unfrozen leg as she went, before driving the point of Miló into the stage floor to slow her movement to a halt.
Gregory freed his leg and began to turn towards her, but he was slow, so slow, and he turned only swiftly enough to see Pyrrha leaping through the air, Miló forming a spear in her hands as she flew like a swift arrow straight towards him. She drove Miló forward to strike him square on the chest, making his breastplate ring as he staggered backwards, then she hit him in the face with her shield and kicked him first with her left foot and then her right as she knocked him flat onto his back before she landed just beyond him, rolling to her feet as she heard Jaune's voice.
"Pyrrha, switch with me!"
Pyrrha's head snapped up. Jaune was in retreat, although his aura was still in the green. Rue was swiping with her net back and forth, trying to tangle up his legs with it even as she jabbed with her trident, and Jaune was not nimble enough to readily evade.
But Pyrrha was.
She charged, and even as she charged, Jaune broke off from his opponent and ran the other way towards Gregory as the big man tried to regain his feet. Rue's eyes widened as she saw Pyrrha coming straight for her at full tilt, Akoúo̱ held in front and Miló drawn back to strike. She swept her net in front of her, aiming to tangle Pyrrha's legs and impede her movement, but with a touch of her semblance to keep the metal net low to the ground, Pyrrha was able to jump clear over it and through Rue's guard.
One blow with Miló to stagger her backwards.
One blow with Akoúo̱ to force the net out of her hand.
Pyrrha pirouetted, slashing with Miló. Her hair spun around her as she swept Rue's legs out from under her and kicked her up into the air. She leapt up after her, adding a final blow to drive her straight back down into the ground again with enough force to drive her into the red with the blaring of the klaxon.
The klaxon blared again as another red X obscured the face of Yarrow Lloyd.
Pyrrha saw Jaune bring his sword down onto that of Gregory Douglas, who had not gotten up but had his sword in one hand and was trying to parry with it. Lightning erupted from the dust vial in the pommel of Crocea Mors to ripple up Jaune's blade, down Gregory's blade and up and down his entire armoured form. Sunset fired, and she must have used a lightning dust round too, because the amount of lightning snapping up and down that immense body increased before Pyrrha's eyes even as aura ground down and down until it was in the red.
The klaxon sounded for the fourth and final time. "Team Sapphire stands victorious," Professor Goodwitch announced dispassionately.
"Yes!" Sunset said, without much grace in victory. "Is that a new record?"
Pyrrha gave her a slightly reproachful look, but as she walked across the stage towards where Jaune stood and Gregory Douglas still lay on his hands and knees, she struggled to think of what to say that was more gracious. 'Well fought'? That might seem rather patronising, and Pyrrha had had it taken that way even by opponents who had fought far better than Team GRAY — the first time she had ever encountered Arslan in the arena, the latter had responded to Pyrrha telling her 'well fought' with a stream of invective that Pyrrha had been shocked a girl their age knew, ending with an instruction to 'shove it, because you'll see me again real soon'; Pyrrha was glad that they understood one another better now, after more such meetings — and yet she felt as though she ought to say something rather than let Sunset's mild crowing be the last word from them.
As she approached, Gregory got to his feet, casting a shadow over both her and Jaune.
"Do I get a badge?" he asked.
Pyrrha blinked. "I … excuse me?"
"A badge," Gregory repeated. "For joining the 'Lost to Pyrrha Nikos' club?"
Pyrrha chuckled. "You lost to Team Sapphire," she reminded him, "not to me."
"I suppose so," Gregory muttered. "It happens sometimes. You did pretty well, all of you."
"Yes," Pyrrha said, looking away from him and across the rest of the team. "Yes, I rather think we did."
XxXxX
The Amity Arena resembled, to Amber's eyes, a pudding bowl, a large tin pudding bowl floating across the sky like a balloon, coming to rest over Beacon as though a child had suddenly grabbed hold of its string.
Put like that, it seemed a little ridiculous — or else it would make her sound ridiculous, which was why she didn't say — but in spite of that, she couldn't take her eyes off it.
She was sitting under the shade of one of the trees that dotted the Beacon lawn, with Dove sitting next to her, his shoulder resting against hers, and Lyra and Bon Bon with them. Qrow, Ozpin's enforcer with the bad breath, was supposedly watching them, but Amber couldn't see him. Perhaps he wasn't watching at all, but more likely, he was being very discrete, and Amber wasn't wise enough to mark his hiding place. Lyra had her harp with her, and the sweet sound of the plucked strings had, if not filled the air, then at least filled Amber's ears with airs that gave delight and hurt not. But as a shadow had grown over them, as it had engulfed the trees, swallowed the grass on which they sat, as it had blotted out the sun and plunged them all halfway into darkness, it had become impossible to avoid the thing that was filling the sky above them, impossible to turn her eyes away from it.
And now that she had looked, neither she nor Dove could take their eyes off it.
"'Brave new world,'" Amber murmured, because as much as it might look like a gigantic bowl for mixing batter and cakes, a place for beating eggs into the flour and the milk, a place to whip meringue until you could turn the bowl upside down and wait to see if said meringue would fall upon your head or not, despite the ridiculousness of its appearance, there was, at the same time, something awe-inspiring about it too.
Someone had built this. Someone had built this. Someone had fashioned such an enormous structure out of metal and then they had made it fly amongst the clouds it dwarfed with its sheer size. It looked so big that Amber almost dreamed that you could fit the world within that flying place and float it out of danger, free from the perils of the grimm upon the ground forevermore. It was so large, a giant could scoop ground up in their hand and still not fill the arena up.
"When you said that it was a flying arena," Dove murmured, "I wasn't expecting … this."
Lyra giggled. "You two are such a pair of country mice, aren't you?" She plucked at the strings of her harp.
"As opposed to you, who are so terribly worldly and sophisticated?" Bon Bon asked archly.
"I know what the Amity Colosseum looks like," Lyra replied plaintively.
"How many people can fit up there?" asked Amber.
"Thousands," Lyra said. "It's got the biggest capacity of any stadium or the like anywhere in Remnant. I think."
"You think?" Bon Bon asked. "I would have thought that someone as experienced, as learned, as urbane and cultivated a city mouse as you would know for sure."
"Shut up," Lyra muttered. "I never said I knew everything."
Thousands of people. It was … it was incredible to think of, standing up there amongst the clouds, in front of thousands of people, all of them looking down at Pyrrha or Sunset or Penny or the others. It was incredible, and a little bit terrifying, not so much because of the crowds themselves — there had been a time when Amber had dreamed of singing in front of huge crowds, egged on by Ozpin, who told her that she had the talent for it — but because of what they would be doing up there to entertain the crowds: fighting.
Arslan said that it was perfectly safe, that it was all performance, but if Pyrrha's mother had been injured performing like that, then … then maybe someone could be worse than injured.
They would all be up there, all of them fighting. But fighting for sport, fighting for fun...
The memory of the sparring match, the fight she had had to run from, had to escape, rose unbidden to the forefront of Amber's mind. Yang on fire, Yang with her eyes ablaze, Yang with that cruel smirk upon her face, Yang about to kill Jaune—
Amber shook her head. No, no, that wasn't right, that wasn't Yang, that was Cinder.
But it was terrifying all the same.
"Amber?" Dove asked, with the same gentleness in his voice as in his grip as he took her by the hand. "Amber, what's wrong?"
He was looking at her now. At her, and not at the arena up above them.
"Nothing," Amber said quickly, tearing her own eyes away from the enormous structure above them, the arena at which she no longer wished to look. "I-I'm fine." She smiled at him. "I'm fine."
Lyra plucked at the strings of her harp. "So, Amber," she said, "how does it feel to be without a bodyguard looking over your shoulder for once?"
"Oh, I've still got one," Amber replied.
"Where?" Bon Bon asked, looking around.
"Um … I don't know," Amber admitted. "He's probably here, but … perhaps he's giving us some space."
"A lot of space," Lyra said, craning her neck a little as she looked around. "I can't see anyone who's paying the slightest bit of attention to us."
Amber chuckled softly. "That's not a bad thing, necessarily."
"No, I guess not," Lyra agreed. She grinned. "On that subject, are you and Dove going to come to the Losers' Party or are you going to take advantage of the place being nearly empty and—?"
"Don't be vulgar, Lyra," Bon Bon said.
"What makes you think I was going to be vulgar in any way, shape, or form?" demanded Lyra.
"Why else would they need to take advantage of the place being nearly empty?"
"I think you've got the dirty mind, not me," Lyra said. "Anyway, are you coming to the Losers' Party?"
"What's that?" asked Amber.
"It's a party for Losers."
"I don't think that helps explain very much," Dove said dryly. "Once the teams competing in the Vytal Festival are announced, the teams that made the cut go — or can go — to a celebration in Vale—"
"A boring celebration," Lyra said. "It's all leading civic dignitaries and corporate sponsors; it's a networking event, no fun at all."
"That's what people say who didn't get invited," said Bon Bon.
"The Losers' Party is held here at Beacon for everyone who wasn't fortunate enough to make the list," Dove added.
"Even if you didn't want to make the list?" Amber asked. "You didn't try and compete in this tournament."
"But it's open to all students," Lyra said. "Whether you failed or didn't try, we're all losers."
Amber laughed. "I'm not even a student, but … if you wouldn't mind, it might be fun."
Except that if Team SAPR were selected to the tournament, and Team RSPT too, and Blake, then who would watch her?
Who would watch me in the dorm room if they all go to the celebration in Vale? Qrow again?
If he's as discreet as he's being today, that might not be so bad. It's like he's not even here at all.
That might be true of Qrow Branwen, but it was not true of the girl who Amber now noticed watching her for a moderate distance away across the grass. Watching her, or … was she actually watching Bon Bon? It was a little hard to tell; the other girl was too far away to be sure who she was looking at, but she was definitely looking at one of them. Perhaps she was even looking at both of them.
Amber didn't recognise her; perhaps she had seen the other girl before, but she didn't recognise her, although she was quite recognisable, being as tall as Pyrrha — made even taller by the way her hair stuck straight up like a crest.
"Amber?" Dove asked.
"Who is that?" Amber murmured. "Do you know her?"
Bon Bon looked around, following Amber's gaze towards the tall girl. Her mouth twisted in distaste.
"That … that's a friend," she muttered. "Wait here; I'll take care of it."
XxXxX
From his perch on one of the high branches of a tree, Qrow watched Amber.
He couldn't hear what was being said between her and her friends. He didn't need to; if someone were to show up and start attacking her, then he'd know about it from seeing, without needing to hear about it as well.
And in the meantime, well, it might be okay for Ruby and her friends to hang out with Amber, but that didn't mean that she wanted some guy old enough to be her father cramping her style.
Oz wanted things to be as gentle for Amber as possible, for things to be as comfortable for her as possible. Maybe that was the guilt talking, but — notwithstanding the fact that Qrow had more to be guilty about than Ozpin did; he was the one who had been too late to track Amber down after she ran away — just because it was driven by guilt didn't mean that it wasn't also kind.
The alternative was to lock Amber in a box with air holes until the danger was passed, and that … that sounded in Qrow's head a little too close to Jimmy's way of doing things for Qrow to feel comfortable advocating.
Nah, he was fine where he was, and Amber was fine where she was, underneath his watchful eye.
So Qrow sat in the tree and watched as one of Amber's friends down on the ground below got up and started walking away. Qrow didn't pay much attention to where she was going.
His attention was on Amber. So long as he kept his eyes on her, everything would be fine.
XxXxX
Bon Bon seethed as she stalked across the grass towards where Tempest Shadow waited. How dare she? Did she think that Bon Bon was bluffing? Did she think that Bon Bon wouldn't expose herself to expose Tempest, if it meant protecting Dove and Amber? Did she think that she could come so close, and look like that, on a whim?
It did occur to Bon Bon that Tempest might have the answer that she had demanded from her, the surety that would prove that she could be trusted, that would allow Bon Bon to go to Amber and suggest that she betray Ozpin and the others and hand over the Relic to Tempest. It might be that, but even then, even if that were the case, why do it here? Why now, in such a manner; couldn't she be more discreet about it?
And so, a scowl settled upon Bon Bon's face as she approached Tempest. They were both under the shadow of the Amity Colosseum, and so, Tempest's face was harder to make out than it would have been in other circumstances, but nevertheless, as she got closer, Bon Bon could see that Tempest was scowling herself. She was wearing a pair of black jeans and a black hoodie with a white skull on it, and her hands were thrust into her pockets so that she looked less like a huntress and more like a bored delinquent waiting to be chased out of the mall by security.
"What are you doing here?" Bon Bon demanded.
"I've noticed that Amber is almost always accompanied by an entourage," Tempest said softly, "and for obvious reasons, it would be best not to say anything about my plan where any member of Team Sapphire could hear it. But today, Team Sapphire is at Last Shot, watched by Penny Polendina; Rainbow Dash and Blake Belladonna are meeting with their civilian friends; and Ciel Soleil is watching Amber through a sniper scope, which means that she can see perfectly, but can't hear anything. There will never be a better time than now."
"Except for the fact that you—"
"Yes, yes, I…" Tempest started, cutting Bon Bon off, then trailed away. The scowl on her face deepened. Her right shifted in her pocket. "I … I want you to know that I take no pleasure in this. I do it only under the greatest duress, because the mission demands it."
She removed her hand from her pocket, revealing that she was holding some kind of little remote control in her pocket, a small black square with two buttons on it, one red and one white.
She held it out towards Bon Bon, then pulled it back again. She hesitated, taking a deep breath, and held it out once more.
Bon Bon reached for it. Tempest pulled it back.
Bon Bon's eyebrows rose.
Tempest growled wordlessly. "Damn you," she muttered and thrust it out at Bon Bon.
Bon Bon took it, quickly, before Tempest could take it back again. "What is it?"
"It's a remote for my artificial arm," Tempest muttered. "Pressing the white button will completely disable it until you press the white button again. Pressing the red button…"
Bon Bon waited a second for her to finish. "Go on."
Tempest let out a seething breath. "Pressing the red button will reverse the flow of nervous signal," she said. "In essence, my own arm will deliver an electric shock to my system. The harder you press the button, the more extreme the shock." She glared at Bon Bon. "You asked for a weapon in case I turned on you and on Amber? Well, there it is!" She held up her prosthetic arm, the arm that she had just used to hand over the controller. "This arm is … I don't know if I can explain to you what this arm means; you wouldn't—"
"It makes you whole," Bon Bon murmured.
Tempest was silent for a second, her eyes widened a little.
"You're not the only one with metal in you," Bon Bon said softly.
Tempest did not reply to that. Instead, she said, "I can hide the metal," she said, "but I couldn't hide missing an arm. I couldn't hide not being able to do things that require two hands. And after so many years … it is a part of me now. I can scarcely remember what it was like not to have an arm that weighed down on my shoulder, to have an arm that it didn't hurt to sleep on, to not have itches that I could never scratch."
"No," Bon Bon agreed. "It … it goes away, doesn't it? At first, it's strange, and awkward, and uncomfortable. Then it's your new normal. Then … it's the only normal that you can recall." Her hand gently, ever so gently, pressed down upon the red button.
Tempest jerked, a wince of pain escaping from her lip as her arm seized up, the only part of her that did not convulse swiftly like an eel pulled out of the river. She glared at Bon Bon. "Was that necessary?"
"I had to see if it worked," Bon Bon replied.
Tempest bared her teeth. "I hate that I must give this to you," she said. "I hate it, and I … but it gives you what you want, doesn't it? If I betray you, then you can disable me, or hurt me. Isn't that what you wanted?"
Bon Bon took a step backwards, weighing the remote in her hand. It was a small thing, but it worked — she had just proven that — and she had asked for something to protect her from Tempest in the case of treachery.
It was very hard to argue that Tempest had not delivered in that regard.
"It isn't just Amber who needs to be safe," she said. "Dove, too."
"Who is Dove?" Tempest asked, with a shrug.
"He's—"
"It was a rhetorical question," Tempest added. "Yes, Dove can be spared, anyone can be spared provided that they don't actively get in the way. Even Team Sapphire; if they are prepared to walk away, then they can walk away. If they are prepared to stand aside, then they will be in no more danger from the grimm than anyone else. Amber can have her boyfriend. Amber can have anyone who's prepared to go along with her; they're not that important. The only person who cannot be spared is Ozpin."
"I don't think Amber would want to spare him anyway," Bon Bon replied.
Tempest snorted. "So … will she go for it?""
"I'm frightened, and I want to live."
"Yes," Bon Bon said. "Yes, I think she'll go for it."
"Then I'll leave you to it," Tempest said. "Let me know when she agrees, and then wait for my instructions."
"When—"
"I've just given you the power to make me disabled; you don't get everything all at once," Tempest snarled. She took a deep breath, and visibly got a grip on herself. "When you need to know," she said, "then you will know." She turned around and walked away.
Her arm swung lightly at her side.
Bon Bon pressed the white button.
Tempest's arm seized up. Tempest half-turned around, eyes blazing.
Bon Bon hastily pressed the button again. Tempest's prosthetic hand clenched into a fist, and she stared at Bon Bon as though she would like to drive that fist through her chest, before in the end turning away again and continuing to walk off.
So, that button works too.
Bon Bon looked down at it, the surety that she had wanted.
Now, it only remained to convince Amber to take the deal, the deal that would protect her, and Dove, better than Team SAPR or Professor Ozpin or the whole Atlesian fleet could do.
The deal that would protect them both forever.
As she walked back towards Amber and the others, Bon Bon had a spring in her step that hadn't been there since … since they'd lost Sky, at least.
Just watch, Sky; I'm about to make sure we won't lose anyone else.
XxXxX
"On a mountain, to the east of Vale, stands a lonesome pine," Lyra sang, her fingers strumming nimbly over the strings of her harp. "Just beyond, in a cabin there lives a little girl of mine."
"Her name is June and very, very soon, she'll belong to me," Bon Bon sang, a smile playing across her face as she rejoined them, her very tall friend having gone somewhere else. "For I know, she's waiting there for me, 'neath that lone pine tree."
Lyra beamed. "Iiiin the—"
Bon Bon held up one hand. "Another time, Lyra, maybe."
"Come on, Bon Bon," Amber urged. "That was the first time I've ever heard you sing, but you have a wonderful voice."
"Well, thank you," Bon Bon said, "but right now, I need to have a word with you." She looked at Lyra. "A private word."
Lyra frowned. "About what?"
"Just … give us a second, okay?" Bon Bon asked.
"Do you—?" Dove began.
"No," Bon Bon said. "You're fine."
Lyra pouted, but muttered, "Okay, if you say so." She got up and started to head back in the rough direction of the dorm rooms.
Amber frowned. "Bon Bon," she murmured, "what couldn't you say in front of Lyra?"
Bon Bon hesitated. The smile had faded from her face as she sat down in front of the two of them, close to the two of them.
"I…" she paused. "You need to stay calm," she said. "When you hear what I'm about to say next, you need to stay calm."
"That doesn't sound very calming," Amber whispered.
"Bon Bon, what is this?" Dove asked. "Why are you talking like you're about to say—?"
"I know," Bon Bon said abruptly, the words leaping out of her mouth. "Amber, I know the truth, I know that you are the Fall Maiden, I know about the Relic, I know everything. And I'm sorry, so sorry, for what has been done to you."
Amber gasped in shock. Bon Bon … Bon Bon knew? Dove's friend, Dove's team leader, someone he trusted and spoke highly of, and she knew? She knew everything?
"'Relic'?" Dove repeated. "What's a Relic, and how do you know?"
"Because there is a war being fought, and I'm on the other side," Bon Bon said, short and sharp, words hushed for all the force with which they were delivered.
She was quiet, and yet, she spoke like a hurricane. Amber shrank back, pressing herself against the rough back of the tree behind her. She could feel her heart pounding inside her chest; she could feel her stomach turn to ice as she gasped for breath. Bon Bon not only knew, she was … she was … she was an agent of Salem? She was working with Cinder? She was an enemy, and she had waited until Amber was alone, without Sunset or Pyrrha or anyone else to protect her, and now…
Now, she was going to kill her.
Fear rushed through Amber's veins, fear … and anger too, anger like the fire at her command, anger at Bon Bon's lies, for lying to her like Ozpin had lied to her.
That anger made her surge forward, to grab Bon Bon's hands and hold them fast before she could make any move to use them, to hold Bon Bon in place as flames began to flicker at her fingertips.
"Give me one reason," Amber snarled, her voice harder than it had ever been before, "give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you."
Bon Bon blinked rapidly, and it almost seemed as though there were tears in her eyes.
"You probably should," she admitted, "but I didn't tell you this because I wanted to hurt you. I'm telling you this because I want to offer you a way out."
"'A way out'?"
"You needn't be hunted," Bon Bon said quickly. "You needn't be afraid, you don't need to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, you can be free, you and Dove, to do what you like, live as you like. You can be free of all of it."
Amber shook her head. "That's not possible. My power—"
"Doesn't matter," Bon Bon said. "Except because it's needed to get the Relic, but if you give up the Relic, then the Fall Maiden power isn't needed anymore. And Cinder will be dead. They're going to kill her. She won't trouble you ever again. I swear."
"You swear?" Amber said. "Why should I believe you?"
"What other choice do you have?" Bon Bon asked. "To stand with Ozpin? You'll be hunted all your life, you know that. You can kill me, you can kill Cinder, but there are other agents in Beacon still, and there will always be someone else. You'll always have to watch your back. You'll always have to worry about Dove getting hurt."
Amber let out a wordless growl, as Bon Bon yelped at the sudden heat of her wrists.
She let out a ragged breath. "You know it's true," she said. "In this war … we put the people we care about in the path of danger. It's inevitable." She paused. "They can't protect you. Team Sapphire, Team Rosepetal, Ozpin, they can't keep you safe. And if they try…"
If they try, then they'll just die trying, Amber thought. She let go of Bon Bon's hands, leaning back away from her. With one hand, she lightly touched her face, her fingers brushing away the makeup that concealed her scars.
The scars that came from defying Salem. The scars that came from serving Ozpin. The scars that came from being a part of this dark struggle.
The scars that would never leave her.
Just as she would never stop being hunted for her power … unless she gave up the reason why her power was sought for.
The Relic.
Amber closed her eyes. Bon Bon was right. Amber knew she was right. She had the scars to prove that she was right.
"'Oh brave new world, that has such people in it,'" she whispered.
Brave people, kind people, wonderful people.
Dead people, if they tried to stand between her and darkness. She could see it all so clearly in her mind's eye: Pyrrha and Jaune fallen, reaching out for one another, blood staining their matching sashes, the light gone out of their eyes; Sunset screaming as she was torn apart; Ruby devoured; Penny weeping as Cinder cut her throat.
And Cinder, Cinder stalking amongst her nightmares, haunting her imagination, Cinder burning, Cinder with eyes blazing red as blood, Cinder cackling like a madwoman as she cut down all who sought to stand between Amber and danger.
Laughing as she smote Dove upon the crown and made an end of him.
She would kill them all, or someone would, someone sent by Salem would do for them all, and in the end, after all their sacrifice, there would be no one left but Amber.
Or she could give up the Relic, and Cinder would die, and everything would be fine, and everyone would be fine, and nobody would need to suffer at all.
Put like that, it seemed a very simple choice, didn't it?
"Amber?"
Amber opened her eyes. Dove was very close to her face, looking at her intently. He had such lovely blue eyes, such pretty eyes. She had to protect those eyes; she couldn't let the light go out of them.
"Amber," he said again, "what is she talking about?" He looked at Bon Bon. "And who are you?"
"I'm a failure," Bon Bon admitted. "And a fool. But I'm also your friend. I've always been your friend. You don't have to believe it, but it's true. I didn't know about Amber until after she woke up, and I didn't intend … I don't want you to get hurt, and I don't want you to suffer. I want you to be happy. That's why this is my gift to you, to both of you. I've done nothing worth doing in my life, but if I can set you free to live and love and be happy … it will be the best thing I've ever done. If you agree to do it."
"There is … the reason that I'm so important," Amber explained, "is that the Fall Maiden is the only one who can unlock a magical door, behind which lies a magical relic, a relic that is sought by … someone. Someone powerful, someone who sent Cinder to kill me and try and take my power. But I know where the Relic is, and I can give it to them, and then … then they won't need my magic anymore."
"And what are they going to do with this Relic?" asked Dove. "What even is it?"
"A crown," Amber said. "A magical crown. I don't know what it does or what they'll do to it. Does it matter?"
"It does … it does if it's being used to hurt people," Dove murmured.
"People will die trying to stop this," Amber said. "The enemy, the one who wants the Relic, who wants me, Salem … she can't be killed. She can't be stopped. She'll just keep sending more people after me, people like Cinder, and everyone who tries to protect me will die: you, Pyrrha, Sunset, everyone. I don't want that to happen. This … if this will give her what she wants, then she won't have any reason to attack Vale anymore. This … this will make everything better, don't you see? It will all stop. Nothing else will stop her, but this will."
She leaned forwards, resting her forehead against his. "I don't want to fight anymore, Dove. I don't … I can't. Not after … I can't. I want to surrender and walk away; I want to live. And I want, no, I need you by my side. There are so many reasons to do this, Dove, and every reason is a life spared. But I need you with me."
"I am with you," he whispered, putting his hands upon her shoulders. "I'm always with you, because I'm yours, as you are mine."
She kissed him, she kissed him full on the lips, leaning into him, her tongue touching his. She broke off, a sigh of relief passing her lips and a grateful smile upon her face. "I love you."
"I'll do whatever it takes, for you," Dove promised. "You're the one that matters."
Amber looked away from him, looked at Bon Bon: Bon Bon who had lied to her, and yet who, at the same time, had offered her hope.
"I'll do it," she said. "I'll give you the Relic, if that's what you want."
The amphitheatre was filling up with students, as young huntsmen and huntresses from every school gathered in the auditorium for the announcement of the thirty-two teams who had, by various methods, been selected to compete in the Vytal Festival tournament.
As Team SAPR took their seats in the upper gallery, it was interesting for Pyrrha to watch the way in which the balance of students filling up the room reflected the methods by which each school selected their eight teams of contestants.
The Shade students had drawn lots, amongst themselves but under the supervision of Professor Goodwitch to ensure fair play, while the Haven students, of course, had held a qualifying tournament, and so they both already knew exactly who would be competing and who would not. As a result, the numbers of students from those two academies were rather low, although still a little higher than the thirty-two students needed to make up eight full teams. Probably some others had come along to support their friends, or simply to see first-hand who their schools' representatives would be going up against from Atlas and Beacon.
From Haven, Pyrrha could see Team SSSN on the upper gallery with them, with Sun temporarily abandoning his team to head over to speak to Blake; she could also see Team ABRN down below, mostly by locating Arslan's rather distinctive mane of pale hair in the semi-darkness.
But it was Beacon and Atlas students who dominated the assembly, as it seemed as though every team from Beacon who still retained any hopes at all of qualifying for the tournament — Pyrrha didn't see Team GRAY anywhere and couldn't help but feel a little sorry for them — had arrived to see if their names had been chosen or if Professor Ozpin had passed them over. The Atlas students were almost as numerous, although perhaps not quite so much; perhaps they had a better understanding of how General Ironwood perceived them, and thus, their likelihood to make the cut.
It was from Beacon and Atlas, too, that most of the electricity in the room was coming; for the students of Shade and Haven, this outcome was already preordained — well, of course it was already preordained for everybody; the choices had been made — but for those from Beacon and Atlas who did not already know the outcome, it felt as though there were still possibilities waiting before them, and anticipation filled the air in consequence.
Pyrrha could see Team WWSR below, Weiss' white bolero glowing to make her look even more ethereally lovely than usual in the lack of light; Team YRBN were up in the gallery above, not far from Team SAPR, and Ruby and Yang were chatting as they waited for the selection to begin. A slight stir behind them alerted Pyrrha to the arrival of Team RSPT; Penny waved to them as the Atlesians took their seats near the back.
There were also cameras in the auditorium, which was not usual but at the same time not unexpected; the Vytal Festival was a public event, after all, and the selection of the competing huntsmen was no less public business than any of the fights themselves. That was why the news crews were in here, gathered between the students and the stage, even as other cameras, mounted on low-flying drones, hovered near the ceiling capturing wide-shots of the students sitting down below and in the gallery above.
The fact that one of those drones seemed to be looking directly at her served as a reminder to Pyrrha, as though she could have forgotten, that there would be even more publicity waiting outside.
It cannot be helped.
The price of glory.
A price I can pay for a little while longer.
"Hey, everyone!" Penny said, as she left her team to approach them. "Are you excited?"
"Hey, Penny," Ruby said.
"I would say," said Sunset, "that we are quietly confident."
Yang snorted. "Only without the quiet part. You know that you're going to make it through because there'll be riots in Mistral if Pyrrha doesn't get selected."
"We are going to make it through because we had a fantastic Last Shot," Sunset replied, "and because we're awesome. You must be feeling pretty confident yourselves; you had a good showing, you've done well."
Yang held up her hand, rocking it gently back and forth. "I'd say nervous and excited, in equal measure, more or less."
"Yang just doesn't want to jinx it by saying we're a shoo-in," Nora said from the end of the bench on which the team was sat. She folded her arms behind her head. "But I'm not nervous at all. I had a dream where we got picked and then went on to win the whole tournament."
"Really?" Sunset murmured. "I wouldn't put money on that if I were you."
"How about you, Penny?" asked Ruby. "Are you excited, nervous…?"
"I…" Penny hesitated for a moment. "I was looking forward to it, but now … I suppose I still am looking forward, but not as much as I was … the idea of showing off in front of everyone just doesn't seem as important anymore."
"Nah, it's not important," Yang agreed, "but that doesn't mean it can't be fun, right?"
"I suppose it could be," Penny allowed. She hesitated again, clasping her hands together, dry-washing them nervously. "Can I ask your advice about something?"
Everyone twisted in their seats to look at her.
"Of course, Penny," Pyrrha said. "Any way that we can help, we'd be glad to."
"I think I might know what this is about," Blake murmured. "Is this about who goes through in the matches?"
"What do you mean?" asked Sunset.
Penny nodded. "Yes, that's it, exactly."
"I thought you were going through to the one-on-one round?" Jaune said.
"That was the plan," Penny said softly. "But now, Rainbow Dash says that, since I'm transferring to Beacon at the end of this year … that she wants to be the one to go through to the final round."
"I'll bet she does," Sunset muttered.
"That's … that's just mean!" Ruby said. "The whole year, you've been told that you were going to be the one competing in the final round, and now, Rainbow just wants to yank it all away from you! How could you?!"
That last was said with a raised voice, directed towards Rainbow Dash where she sat with the rest of her team.
"Calm down, Ruby," Blake said. "It's not … as bad as it sounds."
"It sounds, I must say, like a punishment," Pyrrha murmured. "Although, I must admit…"
Penny looked at her. "Must admit what, Pyrrha?"
Pyrrha hesitated. "I … it doesn't matter."
She didn't wish to offend Penny, after all; their friendship was more important than the rights or wrongs of some tournament.
"No, it does; I'm sure it does," Penny said. "Whatever you have to say, I won't be upset."
Pyrrha smiled slightly.
"Thank you," she murmured. "I … I do not know what Rainbow said to you, nor do I claim to know her mind, although I'm sure Blake will correct me if I misspeak, but … to fight in the Vytal Festival tournament — to fight in any great tournament, but especially this one, the greatest tournament in the whole of Remnant, is a great honour. Not only the honour of being allowed to strut upon the grand stage before the eyes of kingdoms, nor of being allowed to offer up our skill and courage as offerings to … to the gods, perhaps, or if not them … I know not, but I believe there must be some higher being or essence that governs the contests within our little world, looks down upon our efforts, smiles at the valiant and honourable and creases their forehead in a frown at those who disgrace the arena with their contact. In any event, the greatest and most sacred honour that is done to us is that of being allowed to do honour not to ourselves but to those for whom or in whose name we fight.
"To win the Mistral tournament was not merely a matter of placing a laurel crown upon my head or driving in a chariot through the streets with an actress pretending to be Victory, it was a matter of becoming, for a year's turn, the embodiment of Mistral and its highest ideals, of proving myself worth to represent Mistral and all that is best about it. And, while I am not the most fond of it, the name 'the Princess Without a Crown' that was bestowed on me displays that I fought not only for myself but for the long line of my ancestors, without whom I am … nothing.
"To fight in the Vytal Festival tournament, to be amongst the names that will soon be announced, that is not just to ascend to a flying arena and fight a few matches for a cheering crowd—"
"That's pretty much exactly what it is," Ruby said.
"No," Pyrrha replied. "No, it is more than that; it is to carry the honour of Beacon, or Atlas, or Haven, or Shade like a banner upon our backs. We do not fight merely for ourselves, but for our teams, for our schools … and for our kingdoms. Yang makes sport of me when she says that Mistral will be displeased if I am not selected, but … Yang is not wrong. I do fight for Mistral, as much or more than for myself, or else why should they look forward in Mistral to the prospect of my victory, why did so many — myself and my mother included — fly to Atlas hoping to see Lady Terri-Belle triumph? Why was Robyn Hill the toast of Atlas when she took home the victory? We do not fight only for ourselves but for those who put us on our pedestals, pedestals which, though they may be uncomfortable for us at times, nevertheless are signs that we are done great honour.
"And so, I must agree with Rainbow Dash, if that is her thought, that it seems … perverse that you should receive the honour of representing Atlas Academy at a time when you are poised to take your leave of Atlas." She glanced at Blake. "Is that her thought?"
"Pretty much," Blake murmured. "Perhaps in fewer words."
Pyrrha let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Well, yes, that … that is to be expected."
"Hmm, when you put it like that," Penny murmured, "I suppose … I wish Rainbow had said that to me, instead of saying it to Blake and then waiting for Pyrrha to translate it for me."
"Would you have listened, if Rainbow had said it to you?" asked Blake calmly.
Penny's mouth opened a little, but she said nothing. "I … maybe not," she admitted, "but now that you've said it… I'm not sure if I should even go forward into the two-on-two round. I don't really deserve it, do I?"
"Is it about what you deserve?" asked Ruby. "What Pyrrha said sounds all well and cool and all, but if you really want to fight—"
"But do I?" asked Penny. "Or is that just what my fathers expected of me?"
"We can't answer that one, Penny," Sunset said. "Only you can."
Penny nodded silently. "Yes," she murmured. "Yes, you're right. I can answer that." She smiled. "Thank you, Pyrrha, that was very helpful."
"Was it?" asked Pyrrha. "I'm glad I didn't offend you."
"Not at all," said Penny, shaking her head vigorously. "I get it. Mostly. You've given me … something to think about. And I should probably go back and do that—"
"Not right now," Jaune said. "I mean, you've got time, right?"
"Yes," Penny agreed. "Yes, I do, but I should still probably—"
"Quiet please, everyone," Professor Goodwitch said, her voice echoing off the rafters of the auditorium as she walked up onto the stage, followed quickly after by Skystar Aris.
Skystar was dressed in a short white dress which went down to her knees, adorned with white feathers — swan feathers, perhaps, or maybe dove feathers to represent the peace that the Vytal Festival as a whole celebrated — at the shoulders, and about the hem of her dress. The golden straps of the sandals that she wore on her feet glistened slightly as she bounded up onto the stage.
She was wearing a microphone around her head, and as the ambient conversation in the auditorium died down, she used it to send her voice booming out.
"Hey, everyone!" she cried. "We're about to announce who is going to compete in this, the fortieth biannual Vytal Festival; are you excited?"
A soft smattering of murmured affirmation ran across the room.
Skystar pouted. "Come on, guys, that was terrible! Let's try that again with a bit of feeling: are you excited?!"
"Yes!" Pyrrha cried, along with Jaune and Ruby and even Sunset, along with Penny, along with a great mass of voices coming from above and below.
"Yeah, that's better!" Skystar cried. "I'm going to need you to keep up that energy because this is going to be broadcast live in just a little while. That's why all the cameras are here, obviously. Now, as Amity Princess, it is my great honour to reveal the names of all the teams who will be taking part in the tournament. Professor Goodwitch has given me the names, thank you, Professor." She bowed her head in the direction of Professor Goodwitch, who did not react. "I haven't seen them yet, they're on my scroll, and I will read out the team names, and the names of all the students who make up that team, starting with Shade Academy, then Haven, then Atlas, then Beacon. As I read out the names, the team initials will also go up on the big board behind me, so that everyone knows how to spell them."
She paused. "Because, I have to tell you, I have no idea how you get to some of these pronunciations. I asked for Professor Goodwitch to give me the team names as words, because otherwise, there was just going to be no way … it would have been me up here gargling letters and trying to make them fit together." She smiled, as chuckles rang across the auditorium. "As I say, this is going to be broadcast, so if you get picked, please feel free to look and act enthusiastic; it's all in good fun and, it would be awesome if that came across to the viewers at home. If you didn't get picked, please don't look too disappointed; it…" She trailed off for a moment. "Can I be real for just a second? Sorry, Professor, I'll get back on track soon, I promise."
She looked down at her feet for a second, one hand brushing against the feathers on the hem of her skirt. "I know that this hasn't been the best Vytal Festival ever," she said, her voice becoming quieter. "It's been … it's been a year, hasn't it? It's been a tough year for some people, a lot's happened, a lot's changed … to those of you visiting from other kingdoms, I'm sorry that we couldn't give you the experience you were probably looking forward to.
"But what that means is, what I'm trying to say is, that whether you get chosen or not, whether I read out your names or I don't … you're all heroes in my eyes; you survived the year, you stepped up when it counted, you're all heroes, and you all deserve to be proud of yourselves, whether or not you get in the fight in the tournament or not."
Skystar took a deep breath and then put the smile back on her face. "But with that seriousness out of the way, I think we're almost ready to start, isn't that right?" She directed the question to someone down below, whose response Pyrrha couldn't hear, presumably because they weren't wearing a microphone. "Yes, yes, we are almost ready. I don't know what the other kingdoms are filling the airtime with, but I think that here in Vale, they've got Beacon's own Doctor Oobleck talking about the history of the Vytal Festival while they wait for us. Just some quick housekeeping before we begin: tonight, for those of you who are selected, there is a special celebration being held at the Lord Mayor's Palace where there are a lot of people who are very keen to meet you from all four kingdoms, and for those of you who did not get selected, there is a party being put on for you in the ballroom here at Beacon. Also, it isn't just the televised news; it's the newspapers as well, so once the announcements are done, if all students who are competing in the tournament could make their way outside to the statue in the courtyard for a big group photo, and then there may be requests for individual interviews with certain students." She paused. "Okay, with all that out of the way…" She leaned forwards, towards the edge of the stage. "Five seconds? Great."
As a drone descended from the ceiling to hover in front of her face, Skystar began to count down. "Five, four, three, two, one: Hello everyone! My name is Skystar Aris, and I am the Amity Princess of this, the fortieth biannual Vytal Festival! Amongst my duties, it is my great pleasure, honour, and privilege to announce for you, today, which of the many splendid students from the four Huntsman Academies will be competing for your entertainment and the honour of their schools in the tournament to begin very soon."
She's very good at this, Pyrrha thought admiringly. I wonder how much practice she did beforehand?
"If this is your first Vytal Festival," Skystar went on, "let me briefly summarise how it works for you: each school has selected eight teams, which I will announce very soon. Each of those eight teams will fight one battle with all four members of the team, after which, the winning team will choose two of their members to advance to the next round, facing off against another pair of winners. From the winning pair, one single huntsman or huntress will be chosen to advance, giving us eight final contestants, who will then compete in three more rounds to give us a single winner crowned as this year's Vytal Champion."
Skystar got her scroll out from the purse that hung across her shoulders. "And so, without further ado, let me announce the contestants, beginning with Vacuo's Shade Academy." She glanced very briefly down at her scroll, but only very briefly before she returned her attention to the camera drone in front of her, and then to the audience of huntsmen and huntresses gathered to hear her words.
"Team Bronze," Skystar declared, as the letters BRNZ appeared on the screen behind her, accompanied by four headshots of the members of the team in question. "Brawnz Ni, Roy Stallion, Nolan Porfirio, May Zedong."
There were a few scattered cheers, but nothing extraordinary, which made Pyrrha feel a little sorry for Team BRNZ.
Skystar did not let it discomfort her, but continued on regardless. "Team Indigo," she said, as the letters BRNZ and the pictures of the team members were replaced by the letters NDGO, and the pictures of four girls, all of whom whooped at the announcement. "Nebula Violette, Dew Gayl, Gwen Darcy, Octavia Ember.
"Team Umber," Skystar said, prompting cheering and stamping on the floor not only from Team UMBR themselves as their names and faces appeared up on the board, but from three other teams sat around them also. All of them, Pyrrha noticed as she looked down, were wearing silver armbands upon their right arms, like Mistralian honour bands, but each of them absolutely identical. And, of course, worn on the wrong arm. Pyrrha wondered if there was some significance to it, if it had anything to do with Umber being from Mistral, but — according to her own words whilst planning the parade — having left in something of a bad odour.
"Umber Gorgoneion," Skystar said, reciting the names of the members of Team UMBR. "Mariel Bell, Bellerophon Podasos, Reap Eastbound.
"Team Gear," Skystar continued, as the faces of Team UMBR made way for those of Team GEAR. "Olive Gashley, Elektra Fury, Ariadne Guimet, Rae Noire.
"Team Sugar," Skystar said, and the GEAR was replaced in its turn by an SUGA. "Silver Blaze, Uxbridge Scot, Garron Numidian, Alexander Fourprong,
"Which party are you planning to go to?" Penny whispered.
Aware that there was a camera on her, and not wanting to appear rude, Pyrrha kept her eyes fixed straight ahead and did not look at Penny; however, with her attention thus distracted, she found it hard to pay attention to the other Shade teams.
"We hadn't quite decided yet, Penny," she said, very softly, and out of only one side of her mouth, in hopes that it wouldn't be too obvious for the cameras that her lips were moving. "Not least because—"
"We should go to the winners' thing," Sunset hissed.
"We don't yet know that we are winners," Pyrrha replied. "Or even competitors. And even if we are, what does it gain us?"
"You said that I should go and meet Turnus Rutulus because he was a useful person to know," Ruby reminded her. "Isn't it the same case here?"
"For you, perhaps," Pyrrha conceded. "I fear that I am already far too well connected."
Sunset snorted. "As if there is such a thing."
"An evening of getting snubbed by snobs doesn't really appeal to me—" Jaune began.
"They won't be snubbing you," Sunset assured him. "We're the Vytal contestants, we're the stars; they're all going to be there to meet us."
"Why?" asked Jaune.
"Sponsorship, for one," Pyrrha murmured.
"Sounds boring," Nora said, a little too loudly, so that someone sitting nearby shushed her.
"Some people are trying to listen," Ren pointed out.
"Sorry," Nora whispered. She was silent for a couple of seconds. "It still sounds boring, though."
"I'm not sure whether it's meant to be interesting," Blake said, "but that doesn't mean that it isn't useful."
"Of course you'd think like that," Yang said, a touch of amusement evident despite how quiet she was being, "but just because it might be useful for you in your military career doesn't mean that we'll get anything out of it."
"I was thinking the same thing," Penny agreed. "Ciel was talking about how it was important to make future connections to influential figures, and I can't see why—"
Now someone shushed Penny, who quieted instantly.
"And that's all of the Shade teams, congratulations to all of you," Skystar declared, "and now, moving swiftly on, it's the Haven students, beginning with: Team Jasmine!"
The entire Haven student body erupted in applause — whether Team JAMM, as their name appeared on the board, were so very popular, or else because the Haven students had decided to support one another, come what may, Pyrrha didn't know; she wasn't sure it really mattered — as the faces of Medea, Atalanta, Jason, and Meleager appeared underneath the letters of their names.
"Jason Chrysomallos," Skystar said, doing a commendable job with the Mistralian names, "Atalanta Calydon, Medea Helios, Meleager Aetolis.
"Team Volcano," she announced, to more applause as the JAMM became replaced with the letters VLCA. "Violet Valeria, Lily Cornelia, Cicero Ward the Younger, Rufus August.
"Team Ball," Skystar continued, and for once, the letters BALL were quite as expected, and almost unnecessary. "Bassianus Hadrian, Aemilius Alba, Lavinia Andronicus, Lucius Andronicus.
"Team Sun," Skystar said.
Blake stood up and started applauding as the VLCA made way for SSSN.
"Sun Wukong—"
"Aren't you going to cheer for him?" asked Yang.
"I don't really have a cheering voice," Blake replied.
"Scarlet David—"
"Give it a try," Yang urged.
"Sage Ayana—"
Blake's cheeks reddened a little as she took a deep breath, before saying in a voice that was barely louder than her speaking voice. "Good luck, Sun. Do your best. Yay."
"Neptune Vasilias."
Yang's eyebrows climbed up into the recesses of her overhanging yellow bangs. "Yeah, you're right; you don't have a cheering voice, do you?"
"Team Auburn," Skystar said.
"Yes!" Pyrrha said, clapping her hands together. She had never really had a doubt, of course, but that did not diminish her pleasure.
If the fates allow, Arslan, it will be an honour to face you across the battlefield one last time.
Sunset was applauding too.
"Arslan Altan—"
"Yeah!" Arslan yelled, leaping to her feet and raising one fist into the air. "Get ready, 'cause here I come!"
Skystar went on regardless. "Reese Chloris, Bolin Hori, Nadir Shiko."
Sunset's applause slowed down, and she ventured a sideways glance to take in her own team, Team YRBN, and Penny. "You're all being very shortsighted," she said quietly. "Except for Blake, and Pyrrha, to an extent."
"Shhhh."
"Oh, shush yourself!" Sunset snapped quietly, her fiery hair tossing around her as she turned to look for the source of the reproach.
"Sunset," Pyrrha murmured, a little reproachfully in her own right.
"My point is," Sunset went on, "that it's always good to have friends in high places. You might not think you need them now, but who's to say, a few years down the line or more, you might be glad that you can say to someone rich, or someone important, or someone who can help you speak to someone important 'remember me, we met at the Vytal Festival?' On the other hand, if you just don't show up, if you act like you don't care, like it doesn't matter to you at all, then people will remember. Some things, you just have to sit through, not even for the sake of a good reputation, but simply to avoid getting a bad one. We should all go to the contenders' thing, and that includes you, Penny."
"But I—"
"You've burnt your bridges with Atlas," Sunset informed her, not unkindly, but not sugarcoating the point either. "There's no time like the present to start building some in Vale."
Pyrrha leaned towards Sunset ever so slightly, so that she could whisper into Sunset's ear. "Speaking from experience?"
The corner of Sunset's lip twitched. "Princess Celestia dragged me to all sorts of things," she said. "Concerts, soirees, dinners with the great and the good."
"I hope you enjoyed it more than I did," Pyrrha murmured.
"Not really; I felt superior to all of them and resented having to share the princess," Sunset admitted. "It didn't do me any good, but it didn't do me any harm either. And it would have done me good, much good, if I had fulfilled the destiny that my princess intended for me. Or any other destiny I chose, for that matter."
"And now," Skystar said, "for the Atlas teams."
The group fell silent. They didn't want to miss this, at least not until it was confirmed that Penny's team had indeed been selected.
"Team Tsunami—"
Blake smiled as she began to applaud. So, too, did Sunset.
"Yes!" cried Trixie, as her fellow Atlas students began to applaud in a polite and dignified manner. "Yes, Trixie got in! We got in, Starlight! We're going to be in the Vytal Festival! Woohoo!"
She pulled Starlight up, onto her feet, and into a wrenching embrace as she half-danced up and down, tugging Starlight this way and that, while her fellow students watched in various degrees of amusement, bemusement, or despair.
"Team Pastel," Skystar went on, as the letters PSTL formed on the board, together with the pictures of Phoebe and her teammates. "Phoebe Kommenos, Mal Sapphire, Thorn Hubert, Lycus Silvermane."
Pyrrha pursed her lips. If fate were to decree that she and Phoebe's paths did not cross, she would not be sorry for it, although a part of her wanted to pay Phoebe back for smearing her name as Pyrrha was almost certain she had done.
Nevertheless, that was only a part of her, and not the dominant part at that. She would rather have a fight that she could look back on with pride than fleeting revenge against someone who was, in the end, a rather minor, unimportant figure in her life.
"Team Funky!" Skystar announced, seemingly powerless to avoid putting the inflection at the end of the word as the letters FNKI appeared above her. "Flynt Koal, Neon Katt, Kobalt Cecilia, Ivori Blesdale.
"Team Sabre," Skystar said, prompting the appearance of the letters SABR on the board. "Sabine Silverband, Aaron Moore, Bella Roseeye, Reynard Kerak.
"Team Rosepetal—"
Pyrrha had known this was almost certainly coming, but that didn't stop her from letting out a gasp of delight. "Congratulations, Penny."
She gave a wave to the other members of Team RSPT, besides. Rainbow, looking rather pleased with herself as she embraced Twilight with one arm, gave her a thumbs up, before enfolding her other arm around Twilight as well. She might not be dancing up and down the way that Trixie was, but as Pyrrha looked at her, from the way that the light glinted in Rainbow's eyes, it looked as though the Atlesian girl might be about to start crying.
"Great job, Penny!" Ruby said, as Sunset reached out with one hand to ruffle Penny's hair.
Penny smiled, but only slightly, and a little sadly too. "Thank you," she whispered. "Thank … thank you," she added.
Pyrrha frowned. "Penny," she murmured. "I … I didn't upset you before, did I? I promise, it wasn't my intent; I—"
"No," Penny said. "No, no, that's not it at all; it wasn't … well, maybe it is, a little, but only because it's true, and because, well … I think I might owe Rainbow Dash an apology. I thought … especially since I'm not even sure how much this means to me anymore."
"If you do apologise, I'm sure she'll understand," Ruby urged. "Everything has changed for you lately; it's understandable that things are a little confused."
"Now," Skystar said, "the Beacon teams and students taking part in the Vytal Festival are as follows."
"Team Jugular," Skystar said, as the letters JGLR appeared up on the board together with four more headshots. "Jessica Tubal, Grace Maidstone, Lance Gobham, Redwine Belmont.
"Team Ichor," Skystar announced, JGLR being replaced by ICHR. "Iris Marilla, Castor Laconia, Harold Noblestone, Roland Roncesvalles."
"You should make up with Rainbow before the celebration thing," Sunset urged, "or it'll just make things awkward."
"You're really not letting up on that, are you?" Yang asked.
"You're all going if I have to drag you there myself," Sunset said. "Answer me this: you're tired, you're worn out, you've been on the road for a while, do you want to depend on the kindness of strangers, or do you want to call up a well-placed contact who has the resources to supply you with everything you need for the next phase of your journey?" Sunset barely waited for a reply. "And it's one night of your lives; really, what have you got to lose?"
"Congratulations!" Penny cried, attempting to wrap her arms around the necks of all four members of the team, as the SAPR letters and their headshots appeared on the screen above. Her arms were not quite long enough, but they were sufficient to begin pushing the four of them together, even as Penny pushed her head into the gap between Jaune and Pyrrha. "Congratulations, all of you! Are you excited?"
Certainly, some people were excited, many of the Haven students were cheering for her, and Yang and Blake were applauding.
And Pyrrha … Pyrrha found that she was excited too. This was her last tournament, her last showing in the arena before she said goodbye to that old life, to the Pyrrha Nikos of trophies and crowns, to the Invincible Girl and all the rest. After this tournament, after this year, she would be a huntress only. A huntress and a servant to Professor Ozpin — somewhat reluctantly, at this point — and to the people of Remnant. After this tournament, she would be … someone else. Someone less famous, someone less known, someone less thought of, and yet, at the same time, someone who was doing better work, living a worthier life than she had done before.
This would be her last tournament, a tournament filled with good friends and worthy opponents, fought on the grandest stage in Remnant, before the greatest crowd, on the most significant, almost sacred of occasions.
What more could she, or her friends, or even her mother possibly ask for?
This would be her last tournament, and it was shaping up to be the best one yet.
It was no These Are My Jewels, but the statue of the huntsman and the huntress in Beacon courtyard was a reasonable backdrop to the photoshoot, at least as far as Rainbow was concerned.
The thirty-two teams, one hundred and twenty eight students in all, were formed up by their teams and by their schools, one rank kneeling at the front and the other standing behind. Nobody was actually standing on any part of the statue, which would have reduced frontage but maybe would have been disrespectful.
Even so, with a hundred and twenty eight students, the photographers had had to get quite far off in order to get them all in the shot. It was going to look like a class graduation photo, and about as detailed.
Although Rainbow thought they would be coming in for closer shots of only some of the students later on.
Nevertheless, despite the lack of detail in the group shot, Rainbow felt it was a pity that the press weren't going to give out free copies to the students actually in the picture. It wasn't a graduation photo, but … it still would have been nice to have, you know?
She smiled for the camera, but not too much; everyone was supposed to look happy — it was the Vytal Festival, after all — but she didn't want to look manic or deranged.
"Rainbow Dash," Penny whispered from where she stood between Ciel and Twilight. "I need to talk to you, to you and Ciel."
"Not right now, Penny," Rainbow replied out of one corner of her mouth. "Later."
"Okay," Penny whispered.
Rainbow glanced briefly past the photographers, to where she could see the General standing not far away, watching them, along with Professor Ozpin and Professor Goodwitch.
General Ironwood didn't react to Rainbow at all, so she could only think that he hadn't noticed her looking at him.
The photographers advanced towards them, flashes going off in rapid succession, like muzzle flash from rifles, flash, flash, flash as they bore down upon the students, narrowing their fields of view, taking pictures of just the Beacon students, or the Atlas students, or just this team or that team; maybe they were focusing on individual students, Rainbow couldn't tell.
Whatever was necessary to adorn the websites of the virtual newspapers, in support of whatever articles their editors might want written up as soon as possible.
"And we're done!" a man in a suit who had not been taking pictures but who had been supervising the photographers declared. "Anyone who isn't needed for interviews, you're free to go."
"Blake Belladonna!" a woman called, from the crowd of reporters who had been standing just behind their photographic colleagues, the words passing her lips as soon as the possibility of dismissal was raised, just in case Blake got any ideas that her time was her own again. "Rainbow Dash and Blake Belladonna, I'd like to speak to you, please."
Why do I get the feeling that this isn't going to be about the Vytal Festival? Rainbow thought as she glanced at Blake, only to find that Blake was already looking at her.
Rainbow shrugged. What were they going to do, after all? It wasn't like they could say 'no' or pretend that they hadn't heard her. Regardless of what this woman actually wanted to ask, they were all supposed to be available for interviews right now; it was a price of being part of the Vytal tournament.
The price of glory.
And so, as the student body broke up, some of them answering requests from other reporters — Rainbow heard Pyrrha's name called, and Weiss' — Rainbow moved through the currents of students, joined quickly by Blake as they walked towards the reporter who had hailed them, who beckoned them to step to one side slightly.
She was a woman with dusky skin, so probably an Atlesian, with dark hair worn short above the shoulders, wearing a blue dress with a big red stripe running right down the middle of it and gold lines running up and down so that it looked kind of like a ladder. A drone hovered just over her shoulder, its one eye fixed on Rainbow and Blake as they walked across the courtyard towards her.
"Hello, students," she said. "Jillian Khalisa, Northern News…" She glanced past the two of them. "General Ironwood, I'm afraid I don't need a comment from you at this time."
"Thank the gods for that," General Ironwood muttered, "but I'm afraid I don't need your permission to keep an eye on two of my students. They might not be used to your methods yet."
Ms. Khalisa inhaled through her nostrils. "My 'methods,' General Ironwood, are to report the truth without fear or favour." Her brown eyes narrowed. "Two of your students? I understood that Blake Belladonna was a Beacon student?"
"I'm transferring to Atlas," Blake said.
"The paperwork has already been submitted to and approved by myself and Professor Ozpin," General Ironwood added.
"That was done with little ceremony," Ms. Khalisa noted.
"I wasn't aware that a student transferring from one school to another was considered newsworthy," General Ironwood replied. "I'll make a note to send you a press release every time it happens."
Ms. Khalisa gave a very tight smile and made a wordless noise that sounded like it was maybe intended to be mocking laughter — or irritation, perhaps; it was hard to tell. Either way, she looked at her hovering drone. "Did you get any of that?"
The drone burbled.
"What do you mean you weren't rec— never mind. Start recording!"
A light switched on from just beside the camera lens jutting out from the drone's spherical body.
Ms. Khalisa cleared her throat. "Rainbow Dash, let's start with you. How does it feel to be called the White Fang's best recruiting sergeant?"
"What?" Blake snapped, her hands clenching into fists. "That's—"
"Belladonna, calm down," General Ironwood said. "She's trying to get a rise out of you. Dash, don't answer that."
Rainbow looked at him, where he stood on the sidelines, watching without being in-shot. "Sir, if it's alright by you, I'd like to try."
General Ironwood looked into Rainbow's eyes, silent for a moment, before he nodded. "Go ahead, Dash."
Rainbow clasped her hands together behind her back. "I … think," she said, "that you should be asking whoever is calling me that what they mean by it. Because if they mean that we should have done nothing, that we should have let the SDC keep on abusing people in those camps, just to keep it all hushed up so the White Fang wouldn't have anything to complain about? That says more about the people talking about me than it does about me, or Blake. But, if you ask me what I think, I think it's a load of crap. I think the fact that we have proven that it's possible to trust the system, to trust the authorities to do the right thing, I don't think that helps the White Fang at all."
"Hmm," Ms Khalisa said. "So you would reject the accusation that your actions place the needs of the faunus above the needs of Atlas?"
"Yes!" Rainbow snapped.
"This interview is supposed to be about the forthcoming tournament," General Ironwood declared. "Either ask some relevant questions, or we're done."
Ms. Khalisa was silent for a moment or two. She glanced down at the scroll in her hand. "Rainbow Dash, do you feel proud to represent Atlas in the tournament?"
"Absolutely," Rainbow said. "It's a great honour. There are a lot of people I hope I can make proud: General Ironwood, Cou—"
"Don't list them all, kid; this is an interview, not an awards ceremony," Ms. Khalisa muttered. "And Blake Belladonna, conversely, does it disappoint you that you aren't getting to represent Atlas in the tournament? Do you feel as if you have the right to compete under false colours?"
"They aren't false colours yet," Blake growled. "I'm still a Beacon student. I take your point, but that's why I won't be continuing on past the four by four round."
"But even then, you'll still be competing."
"And if I didn't compete, then my team wouldn't be eligible for the tournament," Blake said. "I don't see why I should deny my teammates their moment of glory just to indulge a point of principle. That would be pointlessly selfish of me."
"I see," Ms Khalisa murmured. She smirked. "And how have you both found Vale as a host for the fortieth biannual tournament?"
Rainbow caught the frown on General Ironwood's face, and thought that she could work out why: she was trying to get them on the anti-Atlas stuff that had been going on lately.
Based on the look on General Ironwood's face, he would rather that they didn't get into that, and so Rainbow said, "There's no place like home, but Vale is nice enough. Everyone here at Beacon has been very welcoming and friendly. I've made some great friends here in the spirit of the Vytal Festival."
"And you, Miss Belladonna?" asked Ms. Khalisa, sounding a bit disappointed in Rainbow's bland answer.
"Um … the same," Blake said uncertainly. "After I was … exposed as an Atlesian agent … I've had reason to be grateful for the support and the welcome I've received from the other students here at Beacon."
"But we're not talking about Beacon," Ms. Khalisa insisted. "We're talking about Vale, the city, the kingdom; how have you found Vale as Atlas students?"
"The cafes are okay," Rainbow said. She grinned. "But you can't get a decent apple pie like my friend's granny makes."
"You haven't experienced any hostility from the general population?" Ms Khalisa asked.
A wordless rumble issued from General Ironwood's throat.
"It's a valid question, General, considering that Vale is hosting the tournament."
"I'll decide what a valid question is to ask my students," General Ironwood said.
"Then perhaps I should be asking you, General, whether you think it is an appropriate use of Atlas' resources to be defending a kingdom which can't or won't defend itself? If the Valish are so arrogant as to think that they can get by without proper kingdom defence, then why should Atlas pick up the slack? You want to protect your students from me, but you want them to die for Vale?"
"There's a difference between fighting and dying," Rainbow said. "We do the first, not the second."
"But we're prepared to give our lives, if need be," Blake declared. "For the sake of humanity. You might call it dying for Vale, but Atlas can't survive on its own, any more than Vale could, or Mistral, or Vacuo. We're all interconnected, and we all have to stand together."
Ms. Khalisa glanced at her, then returned her attention to General Ironwood. "Did you teach her to say that?" she asked.
"Belladonna isn't a parrot to recite phrases; she's a student who has imbibed the values of the huntsman academies and this festival," General Ironwood. "And you're done."
"I'm not finished."
"Yes," General Ironwood said heavily. "You are."
Ms. Khalisa was silent for a moment. She stared at General Ironwood as though she was trying to intimidate him. Then, snorting in irritation, she snapped her fingers, and the light on her drone went out.
"Off the record, General Ironwood, you do appreciate the irony, don't you?" she asked. "Protecting your students from the monstrous reporter, but not the monsters with teeth and claws."
"Teeth and claws, they can handle with aplomb," General Ironwood said. "The press can be a trickier adversary."
"Only if you're afraid of the truth."
"'The truth'?" General Ironwood asked. "Or your agenda?"
"The people are waking up, General Ironwood," Ms. Khalisa said. "They're asking themselves why we spend so much lien on outfitting ships and soldiers to fly around the world defending other kingdoms while our own people live in poverty in Mantle. They're waking up, and the lofty-sounding pieties that you've got your students mouthing so well won't convince them for much longer." She looked at Rainbow Dash. "And if they have to choose between their wellbeing and that of the faunus—"
"I think Mantle made that choice already," Blake said. "It chose to understand that humans and faunus are stronger together than they are apart."
Ms. Khalisa didn't reply. She simply turned away, her dress swirling around her a little bit.
General Ironwood watched her go until they could be sure that she was heading towards the docking bays, then he turned his attention back to Rainbow and Blake.
"It's unfortunate that happened," he said. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't let her get within fifty yards, but the press have to be allowed in to report on the Vytal Festival." He smiled a little. "On the plus side, I thought you both handled that pretty well, especially you, Dash. Belladonna, I was a little worried what you were going to do after that first question."
"She had no right to say that," Blake growled.
"No," General Ironwood agreed. "But that's Jillian Khalisa's stock in trade; she seeks to rile up her interviewees through provocative statements, get them to lose their cool. I'm glad you didn't lose yours."
"But who is she?" asked Blake.
"She works for Northern News," General Ironwood said. "They're—"
"Racist?" Blake suggested.
"Isolationist," General Ironwood said. "They believe in Atlas first, and let the other kingdoms stand — or fall — on their own two feet. As for the faunus … the general tenet of their reporting, certainly of Khalisa's reporting, is that the faunus will not, cannot ever be regarded as fully Atlesian."
"So … racist," Blake said.
Rainbow snorted.
The corners of General Ironwood's mouth rose in a slight smile. "Yes, Belladonna, you could say that."
"Does she have viewers?" asked Blake. "Do people listen to her?"
"That's assuming that she's telling people what to think and not reflecting what they already think back at them," Rainbow said, "but don't worry about it; Northern News is a joke: they get low ratings, the production values are terrible, and like you said, Mantle made its choice, and it chose to stand up for the faunus because they're a part of Mantle as much as the humans are. All of that 'we're the voice of the real Atlas' stuff is just garbage; you've seen the real Atlas. You've actually seen more of Atlas than I kind of hoped you would."
Blake looked at her, eyebrows rising. "Really?"
"You think I wanted to show you Mantle?"
Blake chuckled. "No, I suppose you probably didn't," she admitted. "But I'm glad you did."
"I'd be prepared for your words to be taken out of context," General Ironwood warned, "but Dash is right: I wouldn't lose sleep over it; it's unlikely that many people will hear your words or see your face." He paused. "Which is almost a pity, because you answered that first question well."
"Thank you, sir," Rainbow said. "I don't suppose there are any real journalists around who want to interview us?"
General Ironwood laughed. "I'm sure that you'll be able to find someone who wouldn't object to hearing from the Warrior Princess of Menagerie or the Ace of Canterlot, if you really want to tell a camera how proud you are to be representing Atlas in the tournament."
"I am proud, sir," Rainbow said. "I'm proud, and … I meant what I said there, although she didn't let me finish, that there are a lot of people that I want to make proud, a lot of people who've helped me get this far: Twilight, Twilight's parents, my parents … you."
General Ironwood's back straightened a little bit, which was impressive because he hadn't exactly been slouching before now. Nevertheless, it was like he managed to push his shoulders back a little bit more, to straighten up even further.
He also raised his chin a bit more, but that wasn't so impressive.
"You … you don't need to compete in a tournament to make me proud, Dash," he said. He reached out and put his hand on her shoulder. His touch was light, but his hand felt heavy all the same. "You've done that already."
"Thank you, sir," Rainbow said quietly. "But I'd like to do it again, if I can." She paused. "Um, sir … I've been thinking about something, and I'd like to hear what you have to say about it … I know how this might sound, but I think that I should go forward to the one-on-one round instead of Penny, since she's going to be transferring to Beacon for next year."
"On the grounds that someone who doesn't want to stay at Atlas doesn't deserve to represent Atlas at the tournament," General Ironwood murmured.
"Yes, sir."
"The purpose of Team Rosepetal was to get Penny into the final rounds of the tournament, as a test of her abilities," General Ironwood pointed out.
"And the purpose of Penny was to do as she was told, sir; we're a long way from our intentions," Rainbow pointed out.
"Undeniable," General Ironwood muttered. "Have you spoken to Penny about this?"
"I've … started talking to her about it, sir."
"And Penny has talked about it to her friends, sir," Blake added. "I think she understands the point that Rainbow is trying to make."
"Then if she's agreeable, do it," General Ironwood said. "It would be perverse to say that she's free to transfer schools but that she's not free in regards to how far she goes in this tournament."
"Right, sir. Thank you, sir."
"And for the record," General Ironwood added, "I'm certain you will make me proud."
Rainbow came to attention, one foot slamming down upon the stonework. "Yes, sir."
General Ironwood removed his hand. "I should go check on the other students," he said. "Good luck to you as well, Belladonna."
"Thank you, sir," Blake said, and she came to attention as well as the General walked between them, walking back towards the statue, to where some of the Atlas students still lingered.
"You know," Rainbow said, "one way that this really does matter, although even then, I accept it doesn't matter all that much, but … this is the one time when everyone who supports us gets to see that we really are pretty good at this. And yeah, it's not the important work, but they can't see that; they just have to imagine it. This is the one time we can show that 'hey, this is what you got for all your help.'"
"I'm not sure the people who helped me would appreciate that," Blake murmured.
"Do they watch the Vytal Festival in the White Fang camp?" Rainbow asked.
Blake raised her eyebrows at her.
"Don't look at me like that; it's not a stupid question," Rainbow insisted. "What do the White Fang do for fun?"
"They're a resistance group, not an alien species," Blake pointed out.
"Yeah, but they hide out in the wilderness; do they even get TV?
"That depends on how close the nearest relay tower is and how confident we were that there was no one trying to locate our position by tracking signals to and from the CCT network," Blake replied. "I suppose the answer to your questions is that it depends, on the availability and on the character of the leader of any given camp whether they allow it or not." She paused. "You handled that reporter pretty well, just like the General said. I was surprised you didn't get upset at that first question."
"I'd be upset if someone that I cared about said it," Rainbow replied, "but the kind of people who watch her show, what do I care what they think?"
"So long as there aren't that many of them," Blake murmured.
Rainbow frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that, once ideas become sufficiently popular, they enter the mainstream and have to be recognised," Blake said. "That's the essence of democracy. That was what my parents were always trying to do, push ideas of faunus rights into the mainstream by rallying support. It didn't work, but … that was the theory."
"I get what you're saying, but her ideas aren't that popular," Rainbow assured her. "Speaking of your parents, are you going to call your mom and tell her you got into the tournament?"
"Blake?" Lady Belladonna called. "Blake?"
Blake's ears wilted a little bit. "Apparently, waiting for a call was too much to ask," she murmured. "It doesn't seem fair that she can just come up here whenever she wants without asking me first."
"Poor Blake, with your loving mother," Rainbow said, reaching out to slip an arm around Blake's shoulders. "You're so oppressed."
Blake made a wordless growling moan, before she said, "One day, I am going to meet your parents."
"I know; that's why I'm making fun of you while I still can," Rainbow replied. "Frankly, I'm more worried about the fact that your mother made her way up here by herself with no escort."
"Clearly, she made it okay."
"That," Rainbow said, "is not the point."
Heading in the direction of the docking pads, it didn't take them long to come across Lady Belladonna coming the other way, wandering down the path from the docks, hands cupped around her mouth as she called out Blake's name.
Her face lit up at the sight of her daughter. "Blake! Congratulations!" she cried, rushing towards them, her black skirt bouncing up and down. "When I heard the news, I had to come up here and congratulate you in person."
Blake frowned. "How did you get up here so fast?"
"Well, maybe I was already on the way up here when I heard the news because I had that much confidence in you?" Lady Belladonna suggested. "Does it really matter? The point is that this is wonderful news." She threw her arms around Blake, enfolding her in a hug.
Blake slowly raised her hands onto her mother's back, even as she said, "It's not that big of a deal, Mom; I'm not even going to advance past the four-on-four round."
"It's still the Vytal Festival tournament," Lady Belladonna replied. "You'll still be up there, in the spotlight, showing what you're made of in front of all those people." She laughed. "And besides, I've missed six of your birthdays, and even if I hadn't, I'm still your mother: I'm entitled to be gushingly excited about things that don't matter to you."
Blake smiled. "Okay, Mom."
"Are you excited, Blake?" Lady Belladonna asked, pulling away from Blake just a little bit. "Even a little?"
The smile remained on Blake's face. "Yes, Mom, I am, although as much for other people as for me. This … this is going to be fun, and everyone deserves some fun after the year we've had."
"Always thinking about others, just like your father," Lady Belladonna murmured. "I'm so proud of you." She reached out to pinch Blake's human ear.
Blake recoiled, ducking her head and holding up her hands to shield her face. "Mom, stop!"
Lady Belladonna covered her mouth with one hand as she laughed. She turned her attention to Rainbow. "And Rainbow Dash, did I hear right that your team will also be competing in the tournament?"
"That's right, ma'am," Rainbow said.
"Then congratulations are in order for you as well," Lady Belladonna said, before she reached out and pulled Rainbow into an embrace of her own.
Rainbow froze, arms hanging down limp by her side as she felt Lady Belladonna's arms around her shoulders, her hair tickling Rainbow's cheek. "M-… ma'am?"
"Well, your own mother isn't here to do this, so I'll just have to fill in for her," Lady Belladonna said casually. "I hope that you're more excited about this than Blake is."
Rainbow chuckled. "Maybe just a little bit, ma'am. I've got a list of people I want to impress."
"In a spiteful way, or a positive one?"
"Um … is there a spiteful way to try and impress someone, ma'am?"
Lady Belladonna released Rainbow from her embrace, taking a step back. "I once asked Ghira, very early in our relationship — maybe a little too early, but it didn't do me any harm — what drove him on. And he talked about justice and equality and the wellbeing of our people, of course, but then, eventually, he admitted that he was also doing it to show his father that the path he'd chosen was not a worthless one, and not the wrong one for him either."
Did he feel like he'd managed that by the time he stepped down as leader of the White Fang? Rainbow wondered, but didn't ask because it didn't seem like the right time. "In that case, it's the other kind, ma'am, the … the good kind. All the people who've helped me get where I am now."
"Including your parents?" asked Lady Belladonna.
Rainbow swallowed. "They aren't here to see it—"
"But I'm sure they'd love to hear that you were selected to compete in the tournament," Lady Belladonna suggested. "If you give me a letter for them, I'll make sure to deliver it when I get back to Menagerie."
Rainbow frowned. "But … the tournament will be over by then, ma'am."
"Then write more letters," Lady Belladonna suggested. "Give me a whole sack full of letters for your parents, and I guarantee that I'll deliver them all, just as I guarantee that they will be overjoyed to receive them, even the ones that are out of date."
Rainbow didn't say anything for a second. She supposed … she supposed she really ought to write to her parents some more. Just one letter, dropped on them out of the blue, and then nothing … it wasn't much better than not writing at all, was it? In fact, it might even be worse, because she'd gotten their hopes up with the first letter.
And it wasn't as though she didn't have stuff to talk about, and she'd have more stuff by the time this tournament was over, hopefully.
"Are you sure, ma'am?" she asked. "I don't want to put you out."
"You helped me find my daughter again," Lady Belladonna declared. "You'd have to go a lot further than that to put me out."
Rainbow nodded. "Well, if you say so, ma'am, then sure, yes, I'll do it. I'll write you that bag full of letters. Thank you."
XxXxX
"Ciel?" Penny murmured. "Can I … talk to you for a second?"
Ciel's hand went to the pretty little silver watch she was wearing on her wrist. She had been about to turn away from Penny, now that the photographs had been taken, and nobody had asked to interview either Ciel or Penny, but as Penny called to her, she paused, halfway turned away, one foot half-raised, toe resting on the stonework.
And her hand upon her watch, as if she was about to pull on it.
Twilight stood just behind Penny. Rainbow had already gone with Blake to answer that reporter's questions.
Maybe it would have been better to have waited until she could speak to Ciel and Rainbow Dash together, but Penny wanted to get it … not get it over with, exactly, but she wanted to say it now, while it was still fresh in her memory.
Maybe it was more Rainbow that she ought to say this to, since it was Rainbow who had brought it up, but this concerned Ciel too, and Penny wanted to say it.
Talking to Pyrrha and the others, what Pyrrha had said about the tournament, it had explained a couple of things to her. It had cleared some things up. Before today, there had still been some things that, as it turned out, she hadn't quite understood.
About the Vytal Festival tournament, anyway, and about what it meant to compete in it.
Maybe she should have worked them out for herself. Yes, Rainbow hadn't done so good a job of explaining it as Pyrrha, but at some point, Penny would have to start understanding things on her own and not wait for someone else to lay it out for her all nice and clear.
She shouldn't have argued with Rainbow Dash when they first bought the subject up. What did the Vytal tournament matter to her anyway? What did it mean to her, whether she won or lost or even competed at all? It was just … no, no it wasn't just anything, was it? That was what Pyrrha had made clear to her, but at the same time, to her, it kind of was just something, and it was the fact that it was just something to her that meant that she didn't deserve to have all of the things that the Vytal Festival was.
That made sense. That totally made sense, the logic aligned perfectly, she simply lacked the words to express it in an organic fashion.
To compete in the Vytal tournament was a great honour, and it was an honour that Penny didn't deserve because she didn't feel very honoured by it.
There, perfect sense.
Why would she want to compete in the Vytal tournament? To honour Atlas? Atlas meant nothing to her; its flag didn't stir any pride in her heart, its values didn't move her at all, she could look up at the sky and feel nothing at the sight of a cruiser gliding overhead. She didn't feel any drive or desire to honour Atlas, to make the kingdom proud; Atlas might be the kingdom that had made her, but Beacon— Vale was the kingdom she had chosen, the kingdom of kindness that she had found here.
Sometimes, you were born as part of a kingdom that was not the kingdom you were physically born in.
That was something else that made sense, and Penny could point to Blake — born an Atlesian in … Penny didn't actually know where Blake had been born. Mistral? The point was that she was born an Atlesian but not born in Atlas — as an example to prove it.
Penny herself hadn't been born, but she had been made in Atlas — but she hadn't been made an Atlesian, and so, representing Atlas wasn't something that enthused her; it didn't fill her soul with warmth or light.
Which meant that she really oughtn't to take that opportunity away from someone who wanted it, from someone who did feel pride in being Atlesian and wearing the Atlas uniform.
Why would Penny want to compete in the Vytal tournament? There wasn't anybody she wanted to impress; the only person who might be impressed was her father, and Penny wasn't that bothered about impressing him. Everyone else, Dad, her friends, they wouldn't care one way or another. They would be pleased for her if she won, but it wouldn't change the way they thought about her. Even if she won the whole tournament — not likely, since that would mean beating Pyrrha, and how likely was that? — then they'd be there to cheer her on and to congratulate her, but it wouldn't change her life.
Penny had already changed her life. A trophy wouldn't change it any more.
Penny … Penny had already changed her life with the help not of her friends, but of her teammates. Her teammates who maybe deserved some thanks for that.
Her teammates whose lives might be changed by winning this tournament, or at least getting far along the road.
Her teammates who had been born Atlesian and who had something to prove and who … it might not change their lives, but they would probably get more out of it than Penny would.
Ciel looked at Penny without turning her face towards her. "You … want to speak to me?"
"Yes," Penny said. "I do. I … I owe you … I'm sorry."
Ciel's blue eyes got a little bit bigger, and now, Ciel looked at her full on in the face, although she still kept one hand on her watch. "'Sorry'?" she repeated, her voice soft. "Sorry for what?"
"I … I haven't treated you and Rainbow Dash … I haven't always … there are things that I should have understood a lot sooner," Penny said. "You gave me what I really wanted, even though you weren't supposed to … and then I asked for even more."
"I am not certain what you—"
"I think Rainbow Dash should go into the one-on-one round of the tournament," Penny said, "and I think that you should go with her into the two-on-two."
Behind Penny, Twilight gasped.
Penny turned around. "I mean, unless you want to be the one to fight alongside Rainbow Dash, Twilight, then maybe you and Ciel should play rock, paper, scissors for who gets the spot."
Twilight sniggered. "No, Penny, that … I will be glad to leave this whole thing behind me after the four-on-four round is over."
"You want me to go with Dash?" Ciel asked. "You do not even want to go into the two-on-two round?"
Penny faced her once again. "It's not just about what I want, is it?"
"Much has been about what you want thus far," Ciel observed.
"Because that was about me," Penny insisted. "My self, my choice, my freedom. This … this is about more than me; this is about glory and the school and the kingdom and honour and … and it's too big to just be about what I want. Even if I wanted to fight, even if I wanted to reach the final … I don't know if I do, I don't know what I want, I know what my father wanted very much, but whether it's what I want or not is something that maybe proves that I don't want it, at least not that much. Because if I wanted it, then I'd know I want it, wouldn't I?"
"It … is hard to say for certain," Ciel murmured. "But that is certainly … a possibility."
"Do you want it?" Penny asked.
Ciel hesitated. "One hesitates to confess to the sin of ambition, but at the same time, one must be honest about one's flaws as well as one's virtues—"
"Is it really a flaw or a sin when the biggest celebration in the world is built around it?" Penny asked. That didn't make a lot of sense to her.
"Nevertheless, glory is not a thing which should be sought too eagerly," Ciel replied.
"You haven't sought it eagerly; you wouldn't have said anything if I hadn't brought it up," Penny pointed out.
Ciel blinked. "I … yes. Yes, I want it."
"Why?" Penny asked.
"Does it matter?"
"No," Penny said, "but I wouldn't mind knowing, if you don't mind telling me."
She wouldn't have blamed Ciel if she had decided not to tell her, but, after a moment's hesitation, she said, "Because the question of who rises and who … does not in Atlas is not purely determined by merit. Fame grants extra feathers to the wings of those who have it, and helps them to fly higher and more swiftly. One might call it perverse that it is better to be known for what is, in the grand scheme of things, a rather inconsequential thing than for deeds of true consequence, but … I would be known, then when it comes to assignments and postings, commanders will remember me and recall that they liked what they saw of me and re-… and accept my request to join their units or their bases."
"Then you should do it," Penny said. "You should go into the two-on-two. You … it would mean more to you than it would to me."
Ciel's brow furrowed. "Penny … this is what—"
"This is what I choose," Penny said, before Ciel could say anything about her being made for this. That didn't matter. Only what she wanted mattered.
And what she wanted was to make amends a little bit, if she could.
Ciel was silent a moment. "That … thank you, Penny; that is very generous of you."
"Not really," Penny said. "Not compared with the generosity that I've gotten from you and Rainbow, and you too, Twilight."
"Thanks," Twilight said, "but you do realise that if we don't win the first match, all of this becomes extremely academic, and arguably hubristic."
"You don't think we're going to win the first match?" Penny asked.
"Nothing's guaranteed, is it?"
"I note you waited until Rainbow Dash was not around to hear that before you said it," Ciel observed archly.
"I…" Twilight stopped. "I have faith in all of you; I just don't want to make arrogant assumptions."
Penny's scroll went off. Ciel's started buzzing at almost the same time.
"It's your parents," Twilight said. "Tell me I'm wrong."
Penny got out her scroll; Ciel did likewise.
"It's my Dad!"
"It is my mother."
"Told you," Twilight said.
Penny looked around; she could see other students already on their scrolls, or else reaching for them as their devices buzzed; they were moving apart from one another, splitting up in this direction or that as so many students received a call from someone or other to congratulate them on being selected to compete.
Penny's gaze, having flitted across the student body, returned to Ciel. "Well … have fun talking to your family."
Ciel nodded. "And you also. Give my regards to the good doctor."
"I will," Penny said. She looked at Twilight. "I'll tell him you both said hi."
"Thanks, Penny," said Twilight.
There was a moment that wasn't that quiet, with their scrolls buzzing in their hands, but they were quiet towards one another.
Without another word, they turned away from one another, walking in opposite directions, their eyes upon their scrolls.
With the crowd around her thinning out, Penny answered her scroll.
"Hey, Dad."
"Hello there, darling!" Dad said cheerily, his voice echoing out of the scroll as his face appeared upon it. "I just heard the news. How do you feel about it?"
"It … it's nice, I suppose," Penny said. "You know that I was supposed to go into the one-on-one round, if we made it that far?"
Dad pushed his glasses back up his nose. "'Supposed to'?"
"I decided I didn't want to," Penny told him. "If Team Rosepetal wins the four-on-four round, I'm going to step back."
"I see," Dad said, although Penny couldn't work out what he saw, unless it was her.
"See what?" she asked.
"What you just told me, I guess," Dad said. "Why did you decide to do that?"
"Are you mad?"
"Why would I be mad?"
"Why are you asking all these questions?"
Dad laughed jovially. "Penny," he said, "I just want to understand a little bit better, not because I'm mad or I mind — whatever you want to do is fine with me — I guess I just want to make sure that it was what you wanted to do."
"It was," Penny confirmed. "I … it's just not that important to me. I already have what I want; being called a champion or getting to fight on TV won't change that."
Dad smiled up at her out of the screen, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses. "Hearing you say that makes me prouder than any number of tournament wins you could rack up," he said. "I can't promise Japeth will agree with me, but … are you happy, Penny?"
"Yes," Penny said at once. "Yes, I am."
"Then as your dad, that's all I could wish for."
"Thanks, Dad," Penny said. She hesitated for a second. "Do you think … what do you think Father will say, when I tell him?"
"You don't have to tell him right away," Dad said.
"But he'll find out eventually, won't he?" asked Penny.
"I suppose he will, the tournament being on TV and all," Dad admitted, "and when he does, I suppose you'll just have to tell him that it's your choice, not his. But do you want to tell him now?"
Penny shook her head. "Not really."
"Then leave it for a little while," Dad said, "Until you feel ready, and up to it. Listen, take care of yourself, darling; I know it's only a tournament, and only one round, but accidents do happen, so take care."
"I will, Dad," Penny replied. "Trust me, everything is going to be great, I promise."
XxXxX
"Is that your folks calling?"
Ciel looked up to see Neon drifting towards her through the dissipating crowd, nudging other students gently aside with her elbows as they came between her and Ciel.
"Yes, it is," Ciel replied. "I am a little surprised that your mother has not called you to offer her congratulations."
"My mom's at work," Neon reminded her. "She won't find out until she gets home tonight and watches the news."
That was true, and something that Ciel should have remembered. "Your grandmother, then."
Neon shook her head. "At this time of day, Nana will be watching … what day is it, yeah, Bazaar Bargains."
"Even today?" asked Ciel.
"Oh, Nana's not going to miss out just because I might be on the news," Neon said. "She won't miss her daytime TV even to watch my matches. She's obsessed with these programs." She grinned. "Remember that time she gave me two hundred lien and told me to go round all the markets and not come back without a bargain?"
Ciel did remember that; it had seemed such a hopeless cause that agreeing to keep Neon company had seemed the only reasonable thing to do. "As I recall, we had little luck."
"We found that knife," Neon reminded her. "That was pretty cool."
"It turned out to be worth less than you paid for it," Ciel pointed out.
"Yeah, but it was still pretty cool," Neon said. "I still have it. But you're right, we didn't find something that would make our fortunes at auction. And Mom wasn't too happy about the money, either." She paused, then nodded to the insistently buzzing scroll in Ciel's hands. "You should probably answer that."
Ciel did not remind Neon that it was she who had interrupted Ciel before she could answer, and simply pressed the green button to take the call.
"Ciel!" Alain cried as his face appeared on the screen, taking up so much of it that Ciel could scarcely see anything else. "You made it!"
"Good morning, Alain," Ciel said, the slight reproof in her voice clashing with the slight smile upon her face.
Alain made a face that was half smile and half pout. "Good morning, Ciel," he said. "But you did make it, didn't you?"
The smile on Ciel's face widened a little. "Yes, I did," she said, and she simultaneously reached out with her free hand to draw Neon in while moving her scroll so that both of them were in the screen. "And I am not alone in that, either."
Neon grinned as she put one arm around Ciel's shoulder. "Hey, kiddo," she said. "How are you doing?"
"I'm feeling so much better," Alain declared. "They let me out of the hospital and sent me home for a while until my next appointment, but Maman says I have to stay in bed."
"Maman is perfectly correct; you do not want to jeopardise your recovery with rash action," Ciel declared. "Where is Maman?"
The scroll screen moved a little away from Alain, revealing that they were in Alain's bedroom, with Florentin squatting next to his little brother's bed. "She's downstairs making lunch, but she says congratulations and good luck. I suppose good luck to both of you."
"You suppose?" Neon cried. "Highest ingratitude; next time you pick a fight with an angry boyfriend, I'll let you get your nose broken. Hmph! Hmph, I say!"
"I am sure that Florentin has learned his lesson, and there will be no repeat of that incident," Ciel murmured.
"You wouldn't want me to abandon a girl in distress, would you?" Florentin asked. "What would the Lady say to that?"
"The Lady reminds us that the intentions of the foolish man count for nought; his folly will undo him regardless," Ciel declared, asperity and amusement warring in her voice.
Now it was Florentin's turn to pout.
"If you and Neon are both in the tournament," Alain said, "does that mean you'll have to fight each other?"
"Teams from the same academy are not pitted against one another in the first round," Ciel said, "and while it is conceivable that we might be brought together, it is not likely."
"Of course," Neon added in a faux-casual tone, "if we were to be matched against one another, we both know who would win."
"I would," Ciel replied, "because your partner fights with a trumpet, of all things."
"Yeah, and why do you think he gets away with that except because he has a partner like me?"
"How many matches are you going to have?" asked Alain.
"She can't know that; it depends on who wins," Florentin told him.
"That is correct, but I hope for two," Ciel replied.
"'Two'?" asked Neon. "I thought you were going to bow out after the four-on-four?"
"I was," Ciel said, "but now I am not."
Neon frowned. "You and Penny?"
"Rainbow Dash and I," Ciel corrected her.
"Really?" Neon asked. "Okay then."
"What do you mean about dropping out?" asked Alain.
"Oh, right, this is going to be your first tournament, isn't it?" Neon said. "You're going to remember this for the rest of your life, trust me. Now, for this tournament, each team starts with four students, but after they win the first match, two of them drop out, so in your sister's team, only her and her team leader Rainbow Dash will go through and fight in the next match, and when they win that one—"
"If we win," Ciel murmured.
"Whatever, the point is that only one of them will go on and fight in the finals."
"Will that be you?" asked Alain.
"No," Ciel said. "My weapon is not suited for one-on-one combat at close quarters, and those I would be up against are supremely trained and skilled in close combat. I would be overmatched."
"Unlike me," Neon said, raising a fist level with her head. "I'm never unarmed, and I will be going into the finals, so you'll have someone to cheer for all the way through."
Alain giggled. "Everyone seems so excited. Is it going to be amazing?"
"Absolutely amazing," Neon promised. "In years to come, when you're older than your parents, one day, the eightieth Vytal Festival is gonna come around, and you'll be able to bore your grandchildren by telling them how you saw your big sister and her best friend compete in the fortieth Vytal Festival, you've never forgotten." She looked at Ciel, beaming. "Because we're going to make it worth every minute, aren't we?"
Ciel looked at Neon, and then looked down at Alain, his face so excited, positively glowing with excitement.
Thank you, Penny.
"Yes," she said, "yes, I should say we will."
XxXxX
"Miss Schnee?"
Weiss ignored the rather plaintive voice and continued to walk away.
"Miss Schnee!?" the voice called out to her, rather more insistent this time. She could hear footsteps on the stone behind her.
Weiss sighed as she came to a stop. It was not that there was no getting around this — she was fairly sure that she could outrun any journalist — but there was a difference between walking away and pretending that you hadn't heard someone and taking to one's heels, leaving no doubt that you had heard but didn't want to reply.
One was infinitely less dignified than the other.
She was not wearing Myrtenaster, which was a pity, not because she had need of it but because gripping the hilt of her rapier would have given her something to do with one hand as she turned to face her pursuer.
Said pursuer was a woman, blonde, wearing a pink jacket and a pencil skirt that wrapped tightly around her legs; it was rather impressive that she'd been able to run in it. A drone hovered over her shoulder, four small engines glowing with the purple light of the gravity dust they were burning. A single camera lens jutted out of the drone's boxy body; it was pointed straight at Weiss.
"Miss Schnee," the woman repeated. "Cerise Carnelian, ANN; I was wondering if—"
"If you want to ask me about anything other than the upcoming tournament, then my only answer is 'no comment,'" Weiss declared. "I'm not my father, I'm not his publicist, and I'm not a spokesman for the Schnee Dust Company, and I won't be taking questions on matters in Atlas." She paused for a moment. "Now, if there's nothing else—" She began to turn away again, her toes scraping upon the stone of the courtyard.
"Why would you enter this tournament?" Cerise asked, the words leaping out of her mouth as though they were a rope she was flinging out to lasso Weiss before she could get away.
Weiss paused, not turning back but not walking away either. "I was selected, as was the rest of my team," she said. "It's a great honour—"
"An honour which you could have denied," Cerise pointed out. "No team is forced to participate in the Vytal tournament against their well; you have to put your name forward for consideration. So why did you?"
Weiss raised her chin up a little, and still didn't look at the reporter. "I don't see why we shouldn't have."
"Aren't you worried about how people will react to your presence?" asked Cerise. "Aren't you worried about your treatment by the crowd?"
"No," Weiss said at once, and now, she faced Cerise Carnelian. "No, I am not. I'm not worried because I've done nothing wrong, and so anyone who wants to boo me or jeer me or heckle me for no reason shames only themselves; they have no power to make me ashamed. And furthermore, I won't be alone in the arena; I'll be with my teammates, and I wouldn't be a very good team leader if I denied them this opportunity because I'd rather hide under the bed from the opinions of the crowd. For that matter, I wouldn't be very much of a huntress. The crowd may think as they please; they will not dictate my actions."
"Then you don't see this as an attempt to redeem your family name?" asked Cerise.
Thus inviting me to confirm that I see the name as being in need of redemption, Weiss thought. That was something that she was in two minds over: on the one hand, she could not deny the stain that hung over the family and the company by the revelations of what SDC employees had done and what her father, in his ignorance, had tolerated, but at the same time, it irked her that her father — who had not even been born a Schnee but had married into it — was allowed put a seemingly indelible mark upon a name that was not his own, that he had taken from her mother and her grandfather.
"No comment," she said, because whatever she thought about the possibility that the Schnee name might need redemption, she certainly wasn't going to admit the fact in front of some reporter.
"Do you hope to do well in the tournament?" asked Cerise.
"Obviously," Weiss said, resisting the temptation to roll her eyes.
"Why?"
"You are familiar with the concept of a tournament?" Weiss responded.
"Do you hope to face either Rainbow Dash or Blake Belladonna in battle?"
"There are no battles in the Vytal Festival; there are matches," Weiss corrected her. "Do I hope to face either of them in a match? I doubt it will happen, especially in Blake's case, but yes, I would welcome it."
"Why?"
"Because they're both very skilled, and I'd relish my chance to test myself against the best," Weiss said sharply. "For all the talk of celebrating peace and unity — ideals to which I subscribe — this is, at the end of the day, a contest, and as a contest, it ought to be challenging. I want to know where I stand relative to my peers."
Cerise smirked slightly. "Isn't that the point of class, Miss Schnee?"
"Perhaps I want the world to know where I stand relative to my peers," Weiss suggested.
"Then you don't want to seek them out for revenge?"
"Revenge for what?" Weiss asked calmly.
Cerise opened her mouth, and then closed. "I … it's not typical for the interviewee to ask questions."
"Is it common for the interviewer to make such loaded statements?" Weiss responded. "What do I have to seek revenge for?"
Cerise was silent for a few seconds. "Tarnishing the name of the SDC," she said, in the end. It was, after all, just about the only thing that she could say.
"Blake Belladonna and Rainbow Dash are both friends of mine," Weiss said, and kept her voice calm, even if she did allow a little chill to enter into it. "They did something that they can be proud of, and Atlas should be proud of them for doing it, and that's all I have to say on the matter."
Cerise's mouth turned downwards in disappointment, but all she said was, "Thank you for your time, Miss Schnee." And then it was her turn to turn and walk away.
Weiss barely gave her a second glance before she resumed her course. She meant to head … somewhere else, although she wasn't entirely sure why. Somewhere quiet, away from the media circus.
Her scroll rang. Opening it up and checking the caller ID revealed that it was Klein calling her.
Weiss answered immediately. "Klein?" she asked. "Is something wrong?"
"I should hope not, Miss Schnee." The call was voice only, so Weiss was left to imagine his round face, the walrus moustache concealing his upper lip, the bald patina upon his head. "I was merely calling to offer my congratulations upon your having been selected to compete in the tournament."
"You were watching?" Weiss asked, surprised that he'd been given the time off.
"Alas, no, Miss Schnee," Klein said. "I believe that young Master Whitley watched the announcement live — at least, he was when I brought him a macchiato in the sitting room — but my duties meant I had to content myself with listening to the announcement on the radio whilst doing the ironing." He paused. "May I ask how 'Wisteria' is spelt?"
"W-W-S-R," Weiss replied.
There was a moment of silence before Klein said, "Pronouncing that 'Wisteria' sounds like rather a cheat, Miss, I must say."
Weiss laughed. "You may be right, but on the other hand, what kind of a word are you going to make out of Weiss Schnee, Cardin Winchester, Flash Sentry, and Russel Thrush?"
"I'm afraid you might need to let me think about that one, Miss Schnee," Klein admitted.
Weiss chuckled. "So, Whitley knows?"
"I believe so, yes."
"And…" Weiss hesitated for a moment, wondering if she really wanted to know the answer to this or not. She had an idea already — Klein hadn't mentioned either of her parents watching the announcement with Whitley — but nevertheless, she felt drawn towards the question, if only for the slim possibility that she would be proven wrong. "And my parents? Did they … are they aware that I have been selected?"
There was a moment of silence upon the scroll. "I'm afraid that your mother has taken to bed, Miss Schnee, with a dreadful headache; otherwise—"
"Yes," Weiss said, cutting him off with a voice that had suddenly turned brittle. Mother has gone to bed nursing a hangover, you mean, or else she certainly would have been out in the garden with some more wine out of the cellar and not watching television to see who had been chosen to compete in the Vytal tournament. "Yes, of course she would have. And … my father?"
"Is very busy at the moment, what with everything that is going on," Klein murmured apologetically.
"Yes," Weiss said quietly. "Yes, of course he is."
"But I'm sure that once he learns the news, he will be as proud of you as I am, Miss Schnee," Klein added.
My father will be as proud of me as my butler. It ought to have sounded absurd, or worse, cynical: calculated false compassion from a man who was paid to care about her feelings.
It ought to have, perhaps, but it didn't. It … couldn't, at least not to Weiss. It felt … it warmed her inside, like one of his coffees on an exquisitely cold day.
Though Klein couldn't see it, a smile blossomed upon Weiss' face like a flower opening with the dawn.
"Thank you, Klein," she said. "If your duties don't permit you to watch the matches, I'm afraid that the radio coverage may not be an adequate substitute, but nevertheless, I appreciate your support."
"You're very welcome, Miss Schnee."
XxXxX
"Pyrrha Nikos! Pyrrha Nikos? Arslan Altan, please don't go anywhere, but can I start with Pyrrha Nikos?"
Pyrrha let out a slight sigh, but not too much of one, because it hadn't been very difficult to see this coming. And besides, she thought as she walked towards the woman she recognised as Merope Plei of the Mistralian Broadcasting Corporation, there are, perhaps, others here who are going to get a much rougher ride than I am.
She doubted that the reporter who wanted to speak to Rainbow Dash and Blake at the same time was that interested in discussing the Vytal Festival.
"Hello again," Pyrrha said, as she reached Ms. Plei, who had tied her hair back into a more informal ponytail in place of the bun that she had worn the last time they had met, at the Mistralian embassy. Her cameraman also looked different; this one had a beard, although that aside, they were both fulfilling the same function of pointing a camera over Merope's shoulder and in the direction of Pyrrha's face.
Pyrrha added, "I thought you did the evening news?"
"I'm also heading up MBC's coverage of the whole Vytal tournament," Merope said.
"Congratulations," Pyrrha said.
Merope smiled. "Thank you. Now, may I ask you a few questions?" She shoved the microphone pre-emptively towards Pyrrha's face.
Pyrrha put on her practised public relations smile. "Of course!" she said, injecting a note of apparent bonhomie and enthusiasm into it. "That's what I'm here for, after all."
So long as she sticks to the usual questions, then this will be over and done with very quickly.
And if she asks any unusual questions, then I can deal with it, just as I did before.
"Excellent," Merope said. "Pyrrha Nikos, how do you rate your chances in this tournament?"
"Well, I'll certainly give it my best shot," Pyrrha said, "but there are a lot of very talented students here competing, and I'm not taking anything for granted."
She had been asked that question before every tournament since she had returned to defend her championship title for the first time, and she always gave the exact same answer. She was a little surprised that people kept asking.
"Even though you're a Beacon student, a lot of people will interpret your victory as a victory for Mistral; how do you feel about that?"
That was a new question, but not wholly unexpected, given the context.
"I'm grateful for the support of all my fans," Pyrrha began, "but I'd like to remind everyone that there are no kingdoms competing in this tournament. Mistral isn't competing, Vale isn't competing, Haven Academy is competing, and Beacon Academy, and so, while I am a Mistralian and I will always be a Mistralian, I'm not representing the Kingdom of Mistral in this tournament because no one is."
"But that's not what I asked," Merope said. "I asked how you felt about the fact that people will see your victory as a victory for Mistral, not whether that was accurate or not."
"Talk about my victory is somewhat premature," Pyrrha replied. "As for your question … I can't control what people think; if that is how they want to look at it, then I can't stop them."
"But do you approve?"
"I … understand why they would feel that way," Pyrrha said, and hoped that was diplomatic enough for Merope to take it as an answer and move on.
"Do you regret that you won't be competing as a Haven student?"
"No," Pyrrha said at once. "I don't regret my decision to attend Beacon Academy."
Merope nodded. "It's been suggested that if you or a Haven student wins the tournament that you should be honoured with free dinners at the public expense at the Prytaneum; what do you think about that?"
"That would be a great honour, albeit not one that I particularly require," Pyrrha replied.
"I see," Merope said. "Thank you, Pyrrha Nikos. Arslan Altan, can I have you over here please?"
Pyrrha smiled graciously, and gratefully, as she stepped away from the camera. Jaune was waiting for her, lingering not too far away, his eyes fixed upon her.
"Thank you for waiting," she murmured as she slipped her hand into his.
"You weren't very long," Jaune pointed out. "I thought it would take longer."
Pyrrha shook her head, her long ponytail swirling behind her in response to the motion, her hairs tickling her bare shoulders. "These kind of interviews aren't designed to go in depth, and since they're essentially fluff pieces, they don't ask the tough questions. It's all to get a couple of quotes to splice into the news bulletin for later. If Arslan comes up with something good, they might not even use anything I said."
"So … not the worst experience you've ever had with the press, then?" Jaune asked as they began to walk away, a little aimlessly but mostly ambling in the direction of the docking pads.
"Oh, no, far from it," Pyrrha replied. "I may not particularly like it, but this kind of thing, I can handle very easily by now."
"Are you going to tell your mom?" asked Jaune.
"Mother has already been taking my participation for granted," Pyrrha replied. "I'm not sure what would be changed by confirming it."
"Yeah, but … it's a done deal now," Jaune pointed out. "Excited?"
Pyrrha paused. "Yes, strangely enough."
"I don't know that there's anything strange about it," Jaune replied. "It's a big deal."
"Is it?" asked Pyrrha, looking up at him. "I mean … there is a sense in which Ruby is right, and it doesn't really make much difference. But at the same time … this is a part of my life ending. A swan song, if you will; is it wrong if I want to bring the curtain down in style?"
"No," Jaune said. "No, it isn't wrong at all. It makes perfect sense. And you're going to do it too." He bent down to kiss her on the cheek. "I believe in you."
Pyrrha smiled. "I should hope so," she said teasingly. "Are you going to call your family?"
Jaune's eyes darted back and forth, and the smile faded off his face. "I, uh … I don't know about that," he said. "I mean, it's not such a big deal for me—"
"That isn't the impression I got when we were staying with them," Pyrrha pointed out.
"I'll only be fighting in one round," Jaune pointed.
"That's more than many people ever do," Pyrrha responded. "Jaune … do you not want to call them?"
"Don't you want to talk to your mom?" asked Jaune.
That was … that felt unfair while at the same time being entirely deserved. "Point taken," Pyrrha murmured. She leaned closer to Jaune, resting her side against his arm, putting her free hand upon his bicep, squeezing it gently, letting her long red hair drape down his arm. "I know that Sunset is quite right about attending this reception, but I can't say that I'm particularly looking forward to it."
"It won't be bad, will it?" Jaune asked. "It'll just be stuff that you can handle easily, like that interview."
"Perhaps," Pyrrha allowed. "But I was rather hoping to leave all efforts to commercialise my image behind."
"Maybe you can donate the proceeds to charity, like you did with the Pumpkin Pete money?" suggested Jaune.
"That … yes, that's a very good idea."
"So is that what this is going to be about?" asked Jaune. "Sponsorships?"
"I expect that will be some of it, no doubt," Pyrrha replied. "There may be other things as well, a chance to meet politicians, prominent figures, business magnates. It will be valuable to have their good opinion, as Sunset suggests."
"Unless you're Pyrrha Nikos, the Princess Without a Crown, and you can afford to ignore all of that because everyone knows you anyway," Jaune said teasingly.
Pyrrha chuckled softly. "Yes, well … perhaps even I could do with some contacts. Or perhaps I could help with the introductions for the rest of you."
"Just because we're fighting in the shadows for Ozpin," Jaune said, "doesn't mean that people in the light can't help us out. Maybe, anyway. If … if you still want to be involved."
Pyrrha glanced up at him. "You mean…"
"I mean … you haven't seemed … I can't blame you, I mean, I'm not … what he asked of you—"
"Seemed necessary," Pyrrha whispered.
"That doesn't make it right," Jaune said harshly.
"No," Pyrrha agreed. "No, it does not, and I … I doubt that I will ever look at him the same way again, trust him the way that I did, but to walk away from his cause and his service because I do not like the man? No, I could not do that."
"The way…" Jaune trailed off for a moment. "The way I understand it, in Mistral, in the old days, if a lord treated their retainer like that … then they'd walk."
Pyrrha blinked. "In Mistral, in the old days?"
Jaune let out a sheepish chuckle. He reached up and scratched the back of his head with his free hand. "I've been trying to get to grips with your culture."
Pyrrha stared at him for a moment, before her mouth formed into an O and a soft sound escaped her lips. "Oh, Jaune, that … that is so sweet of you."
"Emphasis on the word 'try,'" Jaune told her. "I don't know how Sunset finds this stuff so easy, or you, for that matter; I understand every other word I'm reading sometimes—"
"That comes with being brought up with it, I think."
"And I understand the people even less."
"That certainly comes with being brought up with those tales," Pyrrha said, "and with the attitudes that underpin them." She paused a second, looking away from him, down at their feet as they walked. "But, in answer to your question, perhaps that would have been the reaction in Mistral, in the old days … but the old days are gone, and Cinder is right to say that I am not a figure out of the past, whole and entire."
"She's wrong that that's a bad thing," Jaune said.
"I think so."
"I know so," Jaune said. "I may not understand everything, but I understand that."
"And I understand that though Professor Ozpin may lead, this struggle, nevertheless, is bigger than him," Pyrrha said. "It is so much bigger, it takes in Amber and the other maidens and Mistral and the whole of Remnant. I cannot turn away simply because I feel that Professor Ozpin has not treated me as I deserve. I am not my namesake ancestor, to sulk in a tent until my injured pride has been assuaged with flattery — or my sense of injury has been replaced by rage."
After all, although she did not mention this to Jaune, the decision of Pyrrha of old to forsake the battle had cost her the life of Camilla, her dearest companion. She would not take that risk.
"No," she said. "I will fight on. But perhaps with a little less deference."
Jaune nodded. "That sounds fair enough."
His scroll went off; pressed against him as she was, Pyrrha felt the vibrations making him tremble.
She released him, giving him space to fish his scroll out of one of the pouches on his belt.
He got out the device. "It's … my mom?"
"Either she has heard the news already," Pyrrha said, "or she knows that it's coming and she wants to hear from you what the outcome was."
Jaune hesitated.
"Jaune," Pyrrha murmured, putting a hand on his arm. "You're a Vytal Festival contestant. You have nothing but good news."
"Right," Jaune said. "Just … old habits, I guess."
He answered the scroll.
"Congratulations, Jaune!" the voice of the legion — actually, it was the voice of Jaune's family, but all speaking together, they achieved rather the same effect — issued out of his scroll.
Pyrrha edged closer, close enough to see Jaune's mother and his father and as many of his sisters as were present — so no Saphron — and would fit into the frame, all beaming up at Jaune from out of the screen.
"Hey, Pyrrha!" River called as she caught sight of her. She waved excitedly. "Congratulations to you too."
Pyrrha smiled. "Thank you, very much."
"This…" Jaune murmured. "Is this about the Vytal Festival?"
"I'm not sure what it's about," Aoko said. "I'm happy for you, though."
"Yes, it's about the Vytal Festival," Sky said. "And Aoko, we told you that."
"I wasn't paying attention."
"We all watched the announcement of the competitors live on the new TV that Dad bought," Rouge explained. "What were you talking about during the ceremony?"
Pyrrha felt herself grow a little colder. "You … you saw that?"
"There was a camera that kept cutting to you," Rouge explained.
"Oh," Pyrrha murmured. "Well, it was … one of our Atlas friends had a problem regarding … well, it's a long story, but they needed some advice."
"Are they competing as well?" asked Sky. "Are they better than you?"
"Don't ask that!" River cried. "It's really rude!"
"It might be important, though," Sky said.
"Nobody is better than Jaune's team," Mister Arc declared. "Isn't that right, Jaune?"
"But no pressure." Kendal added.
"The pressure was there already," Jaune said. "But Dad … you bought a TV?"
"We couldn't exactly watch you on the oven, could we?" asked Mister Arc.
"I'm just glad you're fighting in a competition," said Mrs. Arc, "and not against monsters."
"Are you excited, Jaune?" asked River.
"I … I am, yeah," Jaune said, his back straightened. "I'll make you proud, just watch."
"Don't do it for us!" Kendal cried. "Do it for yourself. And have fun!"
They hung up.
Pyrrha chuckled. "You know … we may have gotten off on the wrong foot to begin with, but you have a very nice family."
"They bought a TV," Jaune muttered.
Pyrrha blinked. "Jaune?"
"They bought a TV so that they could watch me," Jaune said. "So that they could watch me. I never thought … I never thought that they'd actually … they never believed in me like that, not ever. I never…"
"They've seen that you're … a very believable person," Pyrrha told him, taking him by the hands. "Just like I did."
Jaune looked at her, a smile playing across his face. "'Believable'?"
"Mmm, not quite right, is it?" Pyrrha admitted.
It was the turn of her own scroll to go off, not the continual, verging on incessant buzzing of a call, but the single droning note of a text message.
It was followed by two more buzzing alerts.
Three messages then, and arriving in quick succession.
Pyrrha checked them on her scroll, pulling it out of one of her pouches and opening it up.
"Three people, or one person pushing 'send' three times?" Jaune asked.
"Three people," Pyrrha said, a little amusement in her voice. "From Chariclo, my old nurse—"
"The one who gave you your sash, right?" Jaune asked.
Pyrrha nodded. "That's right. She says…" She trailed off as she actually read what Chariclo had written and decided that she didn't really want to read it to Jaune. She could feel her own face reddening.
Jaune laughed. "What?" he asked. "What is it?"
Pyrrha swallowed. "I … I cannot believe that the little girl whose… that the little girl whose bottom I used to clean is now the great hope of Mistral. I also cannot believe that you would talk during a solemn ceremony; you were raised better than that. But never mind that; nobody's perfect. I will be watching, and my husband too, and all our hopes and all the gods are with you. You are great. Now show Remnant. Love, Chariclo."
"Aw, that was nice," Jaune said. "Apart from the bit about cleaning your bottom, I guess."
"Mmm," Pyrrha said, her face not feeling like it was going to return to its normal colour any time soon.
Jaune laughed again as he enfolded her in his arms, drawing her closer towards him. "Give it time," he said, "and I'm sure my mom will tell you all sorts about me as a kid too." He stroked her head and ran his fingers through her hair; she could feel him tugging slightly against her ponytail. "What are the other messages?"
"Um … one is from Chiron, Chariclo's husband and my tutor. It says 'Tyche Agathe.'"
"Too-what?"
"Tyche Agathe," Pyrrha repeated. "It means 'With good fortune'; it is the words that I had engraved on the honour band that Chiron gave me when my training was complete." She looked down at her scroll. "The last is from my mother: 'Always be the best, the bravest, and hold your head up high above the others.'"
"The Mistralian words," Jaune said softly. "The ones that all Mistralians are supposed to live by."
"Indeed," Pyrrha said. She looked up at him. "As I said, you have a very nice family."
He didn't reply to her.
He didn't need to.
XxXxX
Everyone else had gone from the statue, but Ruby still sat there, under the muzzle of the snarling beowolf.
Uncle Qrow sat beside her, with Yang sat on the other side of him.
The stone beowolf hovered over all of them, like a less cute version of Fluffy, mouth open to bite, arms poised to strike. But not moving. Not making a sound.
Uncle Qrow plucked the flask out of his pocket and took a swig. Silently, he offered it to Yang.
Yang stared at him. "Seriously?"
"You're old enough to risk your life fighting monsters, you're old enough to drink," Qrow said. "Besides, you are old enough to drink, right?"
"Yeah, I am; I guess I just … you know Dad would kill you if he knew about this, right?"
"I know that he'd try," Uncle Qrow said, dark laughter in his voice. "Are you gonna tell him?"
"No," Yang scoffed as she took the flask out of his unresisting hand. She knocked it back, throwing her head backwards and raising the flask upside down for a few seconds, before she hunched over, belly bent. Her face twisted, grimacing with pain, her mouth making all kinds of weird shapes as her eyes fluttered between red and lilac.
"Uncle Qrow!" she shouted. "That's disgusting! What is that stuff?"
"Kaledonian whisky," Uncle Qrow said. "Hard stuff, but delicious."
"You call that delicious?" Yang said. "That was foul."
Uncle Qrow shrugged. "It's an acquired taste, I guess."
"Can I try some?" asked Ruby.
"No," said Yang and Uncle Qrow at the same time, the former more vehemently than the latter.
"Ruby, you do not want to try that, trust me."
"You're a little too young," Uncle Qrow added.
"But you just said—"
"I know what I said, but there need to be some limits, right?" Uncle Qrow asked. He smiled for a second. "So … you both got in, huh?"
"Yeah," Ruby said. "Yeah, we did."
Uncle Qrow looked first at Ruby, and then at Yang. "Does that mean anything to you?"
"Yeah," Ruby said. "Yeah, it does."
"It means getting to cut loose and have some low-stakes, high action fun," Yang declared. "It means getting to show what we've got with everyone watching. It's … it's our exhibition. It's when we get to show off. It's when we get recognised. It's … it's the time when people pay notice of us when they're not relying on us to save their lives, and that … that's special. At least, to me, it is."
"It's fun for everyone," Ruby said. "It's all it is, but sometimes, that's all it needs to be, because it's something we all need. It's memories that will last a lifetime. It's important to Pyrrha, and I think to Sunset too, and like Yang said, it's important. It's not important in the same way as some other stuff, but it's still important. Plus, you know, it's the reason why Penny came to Vale, and Sun, and all the other students from all the other schools, it's the reason why we made so many friends, and that … I love this festival, and I'm glad that I can be a part of it, along with everyone else."
Uncle Qrow leaned back a little bit, and nearly fell backwards before he righted himself. "That's good," he said. "I was worried you were going to say it didn't matter to you."
"That day," Ruby said, "was one of my best days ever. It'll never not matter to me."
Yang chuckled. "I wonder," she said, "if there are a couple of kids out there somewhere who are going to come and watch the tournament, and in a few years, they'll be Beacon students remembering how they watched us fight and hoping that they get to make an impression on the next lot of kids."
"And so on and so on and so on forever?" Ruby asked.
Yang snorted. "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds kinda stupid."
"No," Ruby said quickly. "No, it doesn't, not at all; it sounds … it sounds really cool. I hope it's true. I hope they're out there somewhere." She paused and bowed her head. "Plus … I kind of like that we've got this break where … we don't have to … I'm seeing the benefits of it not mattering. A break … a break from…" From soul-wrenching choices.
Uncle Qrow nodded. "Yep, that's another advantage to it," he agreed. He sighed. "You know, when I was your age, it was only Tai out of the three of us who knew what the hell the Vytal Festival was. Your mom came from outside the kingdoms, and Raven and I, well … you know."
"What did you think of it?" asked Yang.
"Raven thought it was stupid at first, but she came to love it," Qrow replied. "Specifically, she loved the attention, the fame, the glory. When the two of us won our two-on-two round—"
"You two went into the two-on-twos?" Yang asked. "Not Mom or Dad?"
Uncle Qrow shook his head. "Your mom was a great leader, and she could kill grimm like nobody's business, but when it came to fighting other huntsmen, Raven and I were better than her, and definitely better than your dad. Anyway, after we won that match, with the crowd cheering our names like … it was like thunder, but like water too, waves of thunder, thunderous waves crashing down on us from all sides, and the two of us in the middle of it … Raven looked ten feet tall that day."
"But she didn't go through to the finals, did she?" said Ruby. "You did."
Uncle Qrow snorted. "Well … Raven wasn't the only one who found the love of the crowd intoxicating. After … let's just say that I wasn't always the super cool uncle that you know — back then, I wasn't always Mister Popular — but in that arena, with Harbinger in my hand, they loved me, and I couldn't get enough of it."
Yang grinned. "So, if you both wanted it — and it seems like you did — how did you pick? Just because I'm curious, you understand, and not because I might need it for when me and Nora go to pick which of us gets to make it to the finals."
"Raven wanted to fight for it, but Summer wouldn't allow it," Uncle Qrow explained. "So we settled for arm wrestling."
"And you won," Ruby said.
"Yep," Uncle Qrow said happily. "And I won."
"And Mom?" asked Ruby. "What did she think about the tournament?"
"She thought it was frivolous, at first, play fighting for entertainment," Uncle Qrow said. "She went along with it, but I'm not sure how much she ever really got it. She loved the rest of the Festival, though, said she didn't need to see the world because the world had come to Vale to meet her."
Ruby smiled. "That … that sounds like a really nice way of putting it."
"Treasure these moments, kids," Qrow said. "They're the days that you'll remember for the rest of your lives." He paused. "And kick some Atlesian ass for me, so that I can keep looking Jimmy in the face."
Ruby snorted. "We'll try, Uncle Qrow."
"Try nothing, we'll do it," Yang declared. "Just watch, Uncle Qrow. Watch our every step."
XxXxX
Sunset walked into the dorm room, shutting the door behind her with one hand.
The room was empty apart from her; there was no one here, not even Amber.
That was all to the good, Sunset thought as she got her magical journal out from under the bed — under Amber's bed, now; thankfully, the other girl didn't seem inclined to go prying down here — and set it down upon the desk. It wasn't that she minded having people around to watch her do this, but it was a lot easier when she wasn't going to be disturbed.
Everyone was busy with their own things right now, and this was her thing. She should have done this sooner, really; she had a lot to catch Twilight and Princess Celestia up on.
And something in specific that she could use their advice upon.
Sunset opened the book up to the first blank page. There were not too many blank pages left. If she was going to create a new book for Professor Ozpin, then she would do with making one for herself as well; she wasn't in danger of running out of pages just yet, but it was going to creep up on her if she didn't get to it.
That was still something for the future, however; for the nearer future than the farther, sure, but for the future all the same. For now, she just wanted to talk.
And so, with a blank page before her, Sunset started to write.
Hey, Twilight. I'm sorry that I haven't written for a little while; things have been
Sunset paused, choosing the right word.
busy.
She leaned back in her chair somewhat, her tail flicking backwards and forwards as she waited for a response.
The words began to appear on the page in Twilight's elegant cursive script.
Who are you again?
Sunset snorted, even as she rolled her eyes. I said I was sorry.
Yes, you did, and you maybe didn't even have to do that. If you're busy, then you're busy; it's just one of those things. But, since you're here now, shall I ask Celestia to come over?
Yes, if you wouldn't mind. I want to speak to you as well, but, yes, it would be good if I could speak, or write, to Princess Celestia.
Hold on, I'll just get Spike to send the message.
I'll be here.
There was no response from Twilight. Sunset could imagine her finding Spike and dictating her message to Princess Celestia. The imagining of it, of Twilight prowling the corridors of her castle in search of her assistant, occupied her mind somewhat as she waited. She had some idea of what Twilight's castle looked like from Twilight's description, but that description nevertheless left a great deal to the imagination, and so, in her imagination, Sunset built it, crafting rooms out of nothing, polishing the walls, making the floors sparkle.
A crystal castle.
A living crystal castle.
Only in Equestria could you find such wonders.
Remnant was a fair enough place, some parts of it were more than fair enough, and its people more than fair, but it had nothing to offer in such a comparison. There was too little magic here to sustain a marvel of that sort.
I've sent the message. I'm sure Princess Celestia will be here soon.
Thanks Twilight. So, how have you been recently?
Well, it's probably a good thing that you didn't get in touch before now; things have been rather hectic over here too. I've got a new apprentice.
Sunset's eyebrows rose. Really? Who are they?
Her name is Starlight Glimmer
Starlight Glimmer? I know the human version of her; she was a big help to me not so long ago.
Really? She helped?
Sunset's brow furrowed. Yeah, she and Trixie both. She sought for a suitable phrasing. They picked me up when I was down very low.
My Starlight tried to erase me from existence.
Sunset stared at the page, because surely, Twilight hadn't actually just written that.
No, no, she had. Those were the words that Twilight had written.
Come again?
It's a bit of a long story, but to keep it brief, I first met Starlight not long after the incident with Tirek that I've already told you about. She was stealing the cutie marks of other ponies and ruling over them in a village in the middle of nowhere, a village where everyone would be equal and nobody would feel outshone because of the special talents of others — at least, that was how Starlight justified herself. My friends and I defeated her and freed all the other ponies, restoring their cutie marks, but Starlight herself escaped. Then she came after me for revenge, planning to travel back through time and stop me from getting my friends and I from getting our cutie marks.
But time travel beyond seven days from the point of the spell casting isn't possible, and even then, you can hardly keep yourself in the past for more than a couple of minutes.
That was the conventional wisdom, but Starlight had found a lost spell by Starswirl the Bearded that allowed to travel back as far as she liked for as long as she liked. She's incredibly powerful magically, more powerful than me, as I am now, an alicorn.
Sunset swallowed. A unicorn is more powerful than an alicorn? That's not possible.
Why not?
Because alicorns are the elite! They represent the best of ponykind, the strengths of all three races blended together in harmony! Some unicorn can't best them, otherwise, what's the point?
To inspire? To lead? To show other ponies the way forward? Things that required wisdom, patience, charisma, not brute magical strength.
I love the way you just sneakily claimed that you are wise, patient, and charismatic. But I suppose you might have a point. I take it from the fact that we can talk like this that pony Starlight didn't succeed in breaking time, but why did you take her on as your apprentice? How did you even stop her in the first place?
Because I came to understand what was driving Starlight, and I think that, for the first time, consciously, Starlight accepted what was driving Starlight too. Everything else — the hatred of cutie marks, the village — it was all just an attempt to create a world where she wouldn't be abandoned, left out in the cold. Of course, I'm hoping to show her a better way; I truly believe that with her intelligence, drive, and of course, her immense magical power, she will do great things for Equestria if she's given the opportunity.
Just like that? She was your enemy, now she's your friend.
Just like that. What else is there?
Nothing at all, in an ideal world.
Are you discussing Starlight Glimmer, Twilight's new student?
Sunset found herself sitting up a little straighter. Hello, Princess.
It is good to hear from you again, Sunset.
Yes, Princess, I'm sorry for my tardiness. Although Twilight explains that she might not have been in a position to receive my messages lately. What do you think of this new student of hers?
I am proud, and beyond proud, that Twilight has taken this step and started following in my footsteps.
You'll make me blush, Princess.
No concerns?
I trust Twilight's judgement; what concerns should I have?
Sunset smiled, for all that it could not be seen. None, I'm sure, Princess Celestia, none at all. Best of luck then, Twilight, I hope it goes well for you.
Me too. I'm sure that it will go great as soon as Starlight learns not to reach for magic whenever something frustrates her or stands in her way. But what about you? What was keeping you busy while I was battling to maintain the integrity of the timeline?
It worked. I saved Amber. She is awake, and Pyrrha is out to harm's way.
That is wonderful news! I'm sure that Luna will be thrilled to hear it once she wakes up.
I couldn't have done it without her instruction.
What's she like?
The frown returned to Sunset's face. As you might expect from someone who's been through what she has, she is frightened, uncertain, lost in an unfamiliar world.
She is fortunate, then, to have you to guide her, little Sunbeam, someone who has experience in finding this world strange and unfamiliar.
Sunset chuckled.I suppose so. In truth, she has taken to our whole team very easily, for which I am glad. She trusts me, and she is very fond of Pyrrha. She dislikes none of us and has given us all great tokens of her trust. And, as it turns out, she was — before all this — in love with a boy who found his way to Beacon, and we were able to reunite the two of them. Dove, that is his name, has been a balm to her in this time.
It sounds as if everything's going pretty great.
Oh, it is, believe me. There is a lot to like and a lot to be thankful for: Amber is awake, Pyrrha is not in danger of having her self destroyed, and we have even been chosen to compete in the Vytal Festival tournament.
Is that something prestigious, or merely something you look forward to?
Something very prestigious. The Vytal Festival is held every two years to celebrate the end of a great war — called the Great War, imaginatively enough — eighty years ago. It celebrates peace and friendship and harmony, I suppose, between the four kingdoms of Remnant, and the tournament between students of the four huntsman academies is the highlight.
Fighting to celebrate peace? Other than that, it doesn't sound half bad, but that feels out of place.
It's a display of prowess and one which shows the change in the world: instead of fighting to the death on battlefield, we fight to the cheers of the crowd in carefully controlled conditions.
I suppose that makes a degree of sense.
What else does this festival involve?
It involves the students from all the other academies coming here to Vale; there's already been theatre, parties; there'll be parades and more parties and a fairground, foreign food. And it will be fun. It will be a lot of fun which, quite frankly, we deserve. Considering it feels like we need a vacation to recover from the vacation that we've just had, a lot of fun is the least that we deserve.
Then I hope you enjoy it, Sunset, and all your friends too.
Thank you, Princess, we will certainly. If there is any fly in the ointment now, and it is but a small fly in the scheme of things, it lies, I fear, with Amber. She does not like Professor Ozpin. She is not alone in that — Pyrrha is none too fond of him either, now, and Jaune is the same.
As harsh as it may be, I can't really blame them for that, can you?
No, I confess, not after what he asked of Pyrrha. No matter how good his reasons, I cannot begrudge an instinctive distaste on her part, or from Jaune. But Amber is
Sunset paused, pondering.
They were close, once. I saw that in Amber's soul, in her memories, when I was saving her, they were Again, Sunset took pause as she considered how best to describe Professor Ozpin's relationship with Amber. They were almost as we were, Princess. Or perhaps, since they did not live together, I should say that they were as you and Princess Twilight are now: teacher and student and bound alike by ties of great affection. Except now, that tie is sundered and the affection turned to dust. Amber casts the blame for all her troubles, those that she has endured and those that surround her still, upon Professor Ozpin. I wish I could bring them back into affection, and yet, I see no way to do so.
Why?
Princess?
Why do you wish it?
Because
She stared at that word, 'because,' that had so much promise ahead of it like a young filly just about to set off into the world, without even her cutie mark discovered.
So much promised to be narrowed down by what came after.
Because I see myself in her, or at least in her relationship with Professor Ozpin, I see us. I think that, if Amber could reconcile with him, it would only be to her benefit, as it benefitted me to reconcile with you.
I am glad to hear it, but that reconciliation was not brought about by Twilight or by the external meddling of anyone else, but by a change in you that made you see things differently.
But Amber doesn't need to change.
Then neither does she need you attempting to force a reconciliation she does not desire; if you attempt it, you will only push her away. Do you believe that Professor Ozpin truly cares for her?
I do.
For what it is worth, I think you are correct in that. And, that being so, I believe that there will come a time when Amber realises that also, or perhaps it is better to say that she will remember it, having forgotten. But you cannot compel her to remember, you cannot force them to be to one another what they were, you could talk Amber's ears off upon Professor Ozpin's virtues, and all you would get for it would be a frustrated Amber less inclined to pay you mind.
You speak wisdom, Princess; indeed, that is why I did not harangue Pyrrha upon reconciling with her mother. I should do nothing, then?
It will come, or it will not, as Amber wills. You cannot bring it on; all you can do is be a friend, and a support to him, as they require.
Your advice makes me impatient, Princess Celestia, even as I recognise it is correct.
Patience is hard, but sometimes, a sad necessity. In the meantime, enjoy your festival with all its fun, and even enjoy your tournament, as baffling as it seems to us looking from the outside. Revel, I beg you, and be joyous while you can. I look forward to hearing all about it from you later. And, as you say, you all deserve it.
XxXxX
Author's Note: There will be no new chapters for a couple of weeks as I have to prepare a presentation for a job interview which isn't going to leave me with any time to write.
"Yes, I heard you the first time," Blake said, although a smile played across her face as she said it. She took in the grin splashed across Rainbow's face, the way that she was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. "What are you so excited about?"
"We're going to be on TV!" Rainbow squeaked, her voice rising to such a high pitch that even Ruby might have asked if she couldn't go a little bit lower. "This is gonna be so awesome!"
Blake blinked. "We … on TV?"
"Uh huh," Rainbow said eagerly, as she grabbed Blake by the arm and began to drag her across the great hall. "Come on, there's somebody that I want to introduce you to."
"Wait, who?" Blake asked, pulling back against Rainbow's tugging for a moment.
"I'll tell you when we get there, come on."
"There's no need to manhandle me!"
"Then move!"
The hall of the Lord Mayor's palace was lit with green, white, blue, and yellow lights hung from the ceiling — which didn't look particularly good in Blake's opinion, even if they did deliver the message of the Vytal Festival with all the subtlety of a brick — and Rainbow dragged Blake through pockets of yellow, blue, and green light with a strength that appeared irresistible before Blake gave up and decided to just follow her, meet this person, and find out the answer to this mystery.
Me? On television? Blake wasn't sure that she wanted that. She was not at all sure that she wanted that. What did it even mean? More interviews, like the one from Miss Khalisa? If so, why was Rainbow so happy about it? Maybe they were going to make a true crime documentary about Calliope Fearny and her conspiracy? That might be valuable, as a reminder of what she had done, but on the other hand … Blake still wasn't sure that she wanted to be personally involved. If they were going to do that kind of thing, then she would prefer that the focus be on the victims, not on her.
The truth was that Blake had never wanted to be a hero. She hadn't even particularly wanted to be a leader, although she had led when the situation demanded it. She knew that Sienna Khan had been preparing her for leadership, grooming her to one day assume a position of power and influence in the White Fang, and while it had been nice to have her skills and potential recognised, Blake had also been savvy enough to understand that her name had a great deal to do with it also.
That was one of the reasons — one of many reasons, and not all of them good — why Blake had been willing to stand in Adam's shadow, letting him take the lead, gain the glory, build his legend. It had been … a more comfortable position for her, one better suited to her temperament.
The shadows, it seemed, were denied to her now, or perhaps it was more true to say that she had denied herself the shadows by her actions, but either way, it seemed that any chance of hiding in Rainbow's shadow as she had in Adam's was gone. She was the Warrior Princess of Menagerie, and even if she hadn't been, she got the feeling that Rainbow Dash, if not pushed her out in front of Rainbow herself, at least dragged her up so that they were standing side by side much as she was dragging Blake now.
Blake hadn't wanted to be a hero, a symbol, but a degree of what some might call heroism — although Blake would prefer to call it doing the right thing — and she had become one whether she wished it or not.
That didn't mean that she had to embrace every opportunity to jump into the limelight that came her way.
Especially when she had no idea in what way, sense, or form it was proposed to put her on TV.
She followed Rainbow Dash — which had the advantage of feeling as though she had more say in the matter — across the tiled floor of the hall, towards one of the arch-shaped windows looking out across the central courtyard of the palace. General Ironwood stood there, and with him stood a tall man with a large amount of sandy brown hair worn in a mullet covering the top and sides of his head, as well as a rather extravagant beard that surrounded his mouth and descended over part of his chest, giving him the look almost of some old-fashioned prophet — or at least a cinematic facsimile of the same. He was dressed in a plum-coloured suit and a purple shirt, with no tie — and no socks either that Blake could see, just deck shoes worn over otherwise bare feet.
He was talking to General Ironwood, gesturing with both hands as he spoke in a voice that had more than a little bit of gravel in it.
"—If they're willing, then I don't see what the problem is."
"The problem is that programmes like yours have the potential to influence public opinion towards Belladonna and Dash on a massive scale," General Ironwood replied.
"Jimmy, baby—"
"It's General."
"General, baby," the man said without missing a beat. "That's the whole point! I get the hottest show of the season, and you get half of Atlas believing that your kids are heroes."
"They are heroes," General Ironwood said flatly. He glanced at Rainbow Dash and Blake as they approached. "Ah, Dash, you're back," he said. "Good evening, Belladonna."
Blake came to attention. "Sir."
"So you must be Blake Belladonna, huh?" the man with the mullet said. "You're even cuter in person."
General Ironwood cleared his throat loudly. "Belladonna, I don't know how much Dash told you—"
"Not a lot, sir," Blake replied, with a slightly reproachful glance in Rainbow's direction.
"But this is Mister Mockingbird—"
"Call me Funky."
"He's a producer with the HUB television network in Atlas," General Ironwood went on.
"I … see," Blake murmured. She hesitated for a moment, then held out her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Mockingbird."
"Funky, please, Funky," he insisted, as he took her hand and, bowing, raised it almost, but not quite, as far as his lips. "And it is definitely a pleasure to meet you, Princess."
"'Miss Belladonna' will be fine, thank you," Blake said, softly, but with a touch of steel in her voice, as she shot another glance at Rainbow Dash, this one even more reproachful than the last.
This is the person you wanted me to meet?
Now, it was Rainbow's turn to clear her throat. "Mister Mockingbird — Funky —" she corrected herself before Mister Mockingbird could correct her, "has a proposition for us; he wants—"
"I want to put you on television!" Mister Mockingbird exclaimed. "Well, not you, you, your story. Well, a story, about you two."
"You … want us to become actors?" Blake asked. Is this really what you were so excited about?
"No," Rainbow said, "we're going to be played by actors. Mister — Funky — is going to make a show—"
"The Adventures of Blake, Warrior Princess!" Mister Mockingbird proclaimed. "An original series, only on the HUB! Title subject to change; we're still workshopping."
"The lead characters are going to be called Blake Belladonna and Rainbow Dash," Rainbow went on, "and they'll be based on us. and the plot … the plot is…" She trailed off.
"This show is going to have a serialised storyline, of course," Mister Mockingbird declared. "I mean, this is the golden age of television, after all; what kind of show doesn't have a serialised dramatic arc?"
"I prefer episodic shows," Rainbow said. "It feels like there's more space to get to know the characters."
"Well that's why we're gonna do both, sweet cheeks," Mister Mockingbird assured her. "We're gonna intersperse the story arc with cases of the week. Trust me, it's going to be great. I can see it all now: monsters, villains, gunfights, sword fights, every kind of fights that you can imagine, love, betrayal; this story is gonna have it all!"
"It had … a lot of that, I must admit," Blake murmured. "But … this isn't going to be based directly on our lives, is it?"
"It will be inspired by you and your adventures, of course, honey; otherwise, we wouldn't be putting your name on it," Mister Mockingbird told her. "With necessary licence taken for dramatic effect."
"I … see," Blake said, even though she didn't, not really. She turned away from Mister Mockingbird and faced General Ironwood. "General, what do you think about this?"
General Ironwood was silent for a moment. "You should be aware," he said, "that once people see fictionalised versions of you, they may not only mistake those fictional versions for the real thing, but at the same time … feel a sense of ownership over your real selves that isn't warranted by your roles as huntresses. That said, you do have an opportunity to promote not only yourselves, but Atlas Academy and the Atlesian military, which will have a say in production in exchange for our cooperation."
"Yeah, yeah, of course, the usual arrangement," Mister Mockingbird said. "Wouldn't dream of altering it."
"Mmm," General Ironwood murmured. "Ultimately … the military and the academy can do whatever we can to protect not only the reputations of our institutions, but also your own reputations … but it's something that has upsides and downsides." He paused for a moment. "It's something that you'll have to decide for yourselves, I can't make that decision for you."
"I see," Blake said calmly. She looked at Rainbow Dash. "Can I talk to you for a second?"
"Uh, sure."
"Good," Blake said, and now it was her turn to drag Rainbow away, through the pools of white, green, and blue light, until they were a discrete distance away from Mister Mockingbird and she could hiss at Rainbow Dash without too much fear of being overheard.
"What were you thinking? That's what you wanted to show me?"
Rainbow frowned. "You don't seem very happy about this."
"You think?"
"I don't get it," Rainbow said. "What's not to like?"
"The sleazeball of a producer, for a start," Blake muttered. "'You're even cuter in person'? I feel like I need to wash my hand."
"Okay, I wouldn't want to hang out with him," Rainbow admitted. "But it's not like we need to see him every day, or ever again; like I said, we're not going to be acting in his show, it's just going to be based on us."
"It's going to have characters named after us," Blake corrected her. "Are you really okay with people seeing someone called Rainbow Dash on TV and thinking that that's you? Thinking that's who you are?"
"I think it could be kind of cool, yeah," Rainbow replied. "I think it could even be pretty awesome if they get the show right."
"And if they don't?" Blake asked.
"Then the show will get cancelled, and everyone will have forgotten all about it soon enough — if they even watched to begin with," Rainbow said. "That's the cool thing about bad shows; nobody even knows they're on. But a good show, a hit show — and whatever else he is, Mister Mockingbird has put out some hits — our names are going to be everywhere!"
"But it won't be us," Blake insisted. "What if I don't want to give away my name to some fast-talking producer to do with as he wishes, what if I want to keep it for myself?"
"Too late for that; you've already given your name away, we both have," Rainbow informed her. "To all those kids in black and rainbow wigs running up and down Mantle pretending to be Blake Belladonna and Rainbow Dash."
"That's different," Blake said.
"Only in scale," Rainbow replied. "Look … I get that you're reserved, but did you really think that you could rise up in Atlas without getting a spotlight shone on you?"
"That…" Blake hesitated for a moment. "That, well, that is different!" she said. "That's me; I can control what I do! This … what if … what if they write me a love interest who isn't Sun, or—"
"Are you worried that Sun will think that it's real?"
"No, I just…" Blake trailed off for a moment. "And why is it only my name in the title and not both of ours?"
Rainbow shrugged. "Because Warrior Princess sounds cool, I guess," she said. She paused for a moment. "Listen, Rudi Antonio says—"
"You've read—"
"Yes, I've read Antonio; Twilight gave it to me," Rainbow said quickly. "As I was saying, Antonio says that we need cultural power, doesn't he? That we need faunus—"
"In head offices, in the headmaster's office," Blake said.
"And on TV and in the movies," Rainbow added. "We need to be everywhere so much that bigots are crying out 'not another damn faunus,' isn't that what he says?"
Blake nodded. "It's something like that, yes; I'd have to look up the exact quote."
"Whatever else this is," Rainbow said, "however it treats us, this is going to be a show about two faunus kicking ass, saving people, hunting things, and doing it all for Atlesian glory. That's worthwhile. That's … that's hierophancy."
Blake frowned. "Do you mean hegemony?"
Rainbow hesitated. "Probably, yes. I knew it started with an H. The point I'm trying to make is that stuff like this can help change the world, and it isn't only me that says so. Really smart people say so too."
Blake didn't reply to that immediately, because there wasn't an immediate pithy response that she could make. After all, Rainbow was right: Rudi Antonio had written about the importance of hegemony, the way in which culture, the media, shaped people's expectations of what was and wasn't possible, what was and was not acceptable, and — so he had written — in doing so prevented radical change by convincing the people that it was a mere pipe dream. Blake wasn't sure that two faunus huntresses on television counted as radical change — after all, there were a lot more than two of them in real life — but Rainbow was also right that faunus in the entertainment industry was a specific example given Antonio himself.
It was all there, in a text so seminal that even Sienna Khan had been forced to acknowledge it, even as she had profoundly disagreed with his conclusions.
And I suppose Rainbow has a point that it was naive of me to expect that I could accomplish anything from the shadows, especially in Atlas.
The lights shine too bright there, and — as with everywhere — they shine brighter still the higher you go.
She still wasn't filled with immense enthusiasm for the idea, but at the same time, she could feel the walls of her resistance dissolving like sand before the inexorable waves of Rainbow's arguments.
"I…" she began. "Are we going to be played by real faunus? I don't want 'the best actress for the part' to be a human wearing cat ears—"
"We can insist on them casting actual faunus before we agree to do it," Rainbow assured her.
"Good," Blake said. "Good, that … good." She took a deep breath. "We're not going to regret this, are we?"
"No," Rainbow replied. "I mean, I hope not."
"If we do—"
"Then you can blame me," Rainbow told her.
"Yes," Blake said. "Yes, I will."
XxXxX
The Lord Mayor's palace did not look particularly palatial in size: it was only three storeys high — that was by counting the windows, although the ceiling rose significantly above the third row of windows and so possibly it could accommodate more floors than that within — and not that much wider than the ballroom at Beacon, at least Sunset didn't think so. She would not have called it a palace based on its size. But she had to admit that what it lacked in size, it made up for in the grandeur of what little there was; the architecture of the palace was a riot of buttresses jutting out of the grey-brown stone walls; at each corner of the building, there rose a tower with a sharp roof, like the point of a spear, or perhaps, considering all the lumps of stone set to those roofs, like some sort of mace or other bludgeoning weapon. Another tower rose above the high roof, and stone gargoyles mounted on the high places kept watch upon the streets below. The windows were arched, and for the most part very tall, with stonework separating the panes of glass. The wooden doors were set into a great archway of white stone, and around the arch was built something almost like a gatehouse emerging from the palace itself, white against the brown grey, with the coat of arms of the City of Vale — two hippogriffs supporting a shield bearing the image of a crown in one quarter and an axe diagonal to it, the shield surmounted by a helmet with the crest of a gryphon's wing — sat atop the gatehouse, carved in white stone.
Two stone giants, each as large if not taller than the building which they guarded, stood on either side of the gatehouse; they were both armoured in a slightly ornate style, with pteruges hanging from their waists and cuirasses upon their chests and cap-like helmets whose tops curled up above their heads. One bore a spear, the other an axe; they both looked down with open, snarling mouths upon the people down below.
"What … are they?" Penny asked, sounding a little less than impressed by the sight of them.
"That's Gog and Magog," Ruby explained. "Two giants who used to live here, or at least that's how the story goes. The very first king of Vale killed them both and took their land to found this city. The statues commemorate them."
"That doesn't sound very nice," Penny pointed out. "Killing someone to take their land."
"They were man-eating giants," Ruby replied. "Anyway, it's just a story. Someone lived here before the Valish — you can see some of their ruins down in the basement, if you want — but they were long gone before Vale was founded, and they weren't." She paused. "They probably weren't giants."
"Most likely the same people whose relics can be found in the Emerald Forest," Pyrrha murmured.
"Maybe," Ruby said. "But there are two sets of cliffs between there and here, and who knows how many peoples have risen and fallen before the four kingdoms we know came to be?"
"True," Pyrrha acknowledged.
All told, there were eight of them outside the doors: Sunset, Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby, Penny, Yang, Nora, and Ren. Blake was in there already, with the Rosepetals.
The invitations they had all received on their scrolls after their teams had been announced as Vytal Festival competitors had stated the dress code as school uniforms or combat attire if presentable. That was a little disappointing — moreso for some than for others, admittedly — but, Sunset supposed, understandable enough: they were, in a sense, being honoured as contestants in the tournament, and so, they were expected to look the part. Pyrrha, Ruby, and Penny had gone down the combat attired route, as had Ren and Nora; Sunset, Jaune, and Yang wore their Beacon uniforms.
Sunset felt that Nora might have done better to have worn the school uniform as well but kept that to herself.
"We should probably go in, right?" Yang asked.
"Or we could not go in and go somewhere actually fun instead?" suggested Nora eagerly.
"No," Sunset said.
"Sunset's right," Yang said. "This … we might not enjoy ourselves, but we'll get the benefit for years to come. Hopefully."
"But what do we do once we get inside?" asked Penny, her voice trembling slightly.
"Mingle, in a word," Sunset said.
"Ah, okay," Penny said. She paused. "How do you do that?"
Sunset put one arm around Penny's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Penny. Stick with me; I'll show you how it's done."
"Because you have so much experience with this," Yang muttered.
"Yes, I do, as it happens," Sunset replied proudly.
As it happened, her experience was more with … being mingled with than mingling, if that made sense; she had spent many nights stood at Princess Celestia's side at this reception or that soirée — if she'd been lucky, there had been a concert or something beforehand — and she had watched countless obsequious and, in Sunset's opinion, quite unworthy ponies line up to kiss the hoof of Princess Celestia and seek special access to the princess through currying favour with her favourite student.
Sunset had taken a rather proud and haughty line with them at the time, disdaining to sully her relationship with Princess Celestia with anything so base as trying to wheedle favours for other ponies out of her; it was something that Sunset regretted somewhat now. Not the disdaining to sully her relationship part — that, she did not regret at all — but she probably hadn't had to be so harsh in her rebuke of anyone who tried to reach the princess through her.
I took a torch to all my bridges, but not before I'd doused them in oil.
Not that they would have helped me much, but still…
The point was that she knew a little about how to approach eminent people. She'd even done some of it herself, if only under great duress at Princess Celestia's urging.
She knew enough to help Penny navigate this first step into a new world.
"Don't be daunted, Penny," Pyrrha said. "Or anyone else for that matter, although it may seem daunting. Remember that we're the stars of the show tonight. Everyone is here for us, or for our competitors, friends, rivals; as much as you might imagine everyone standing aloof, waiting to be approached, they're far more likely to come to us."
"Is that why you were standing alone at that reception in Mistral?" Jaune asked.
Pyrrha paused, her mouth open. A little nervous laugh escaped her lips. "That's … none of us are so well known here in Vale for familiarity to have bred that kind of … it will be different," she declared. "I promise."
"Besides," Yang added, "we've faced grimm hordes; compared to that, this is nothing."
"Speak for yourself," Ruby muttered.
Yang laughed. "It'll be fine," she assured her. "Come on, let's go."
They headed inside, the frontage of their little group narrowing as they advanced up the steps towards the gatehouse and the wooden door which, however wide it might be, was not quite wide enough for all eight of them to walk through in line abreast.
There were two men upon the door: one older and stouter, with round spectacles upon his fleshy face; the other younger and leaner, bouncing impatiently upon the balls of his feet. Both were dressed in red jackets and matching waistcoats over white shirts and black ties; the older fellow wore a top hat, although the younger did not. Both held squat black scanners in their hands.
"Can I check your scrolls please, ladies and gents?" the younger man said, holding up his scanner. "Just need to check your invitations."
Sunset got out her scroll — Penny did likewise, as did everyone else — and found her invitation to the event, holding it out to the younger man, who flashed his scanner over the QR code embedded in the invitation. There was a beeping sound, and Sunset caught sight of her own name and face appearing briefly on the scanner.
"Thank you very much; head right on inside and have a good evening," the younger man said as he proceeded to scan Penny's scroll.
Sunset waited for Penny, and for the others, as they all got their invitations scanned.
"Well, what do you know, I think I left my scroll back at Beacon!" Nora exclaimed. "Oh, well, I guess I'll just have to—"
"I have your scroll here," Ren said, holding it out to get scanned. "I picked it up from where you left it on the bed."
Nora pouted and made a wordless sound that was almost, but not quite, a growl, but said nothing.
"Have a good evening, folks," the older man said, and the fact that he was saying it to Pyrrha after he scanned her invitation didn't make it any less apposite.
Inside, Sunset found the floor was stone beneath her feet, grey flagstones, occasionally painted with this or that coat of arms — a black cross on white here, a blue shield with gold fleur de lis there — painted on them, along with names like de Belleme and Clito that she did not recognise but possibly would have if she'd been better versed in Valish history.
On the left, there was a set of stairs leading downwards, and a sign indicating that way to the crypt and the ruins, but it was cut off by a red velvet rope. The way forward was open, and so Sunset and the others went that way, down the stone corridor until they entered into a high, cavernous hall, the vaulted ceiling set so high above them that those stone giants on guard without could almost have fit inside.
The stone walls were partially obscured by wall hangings, the banners of Beacon, Atlas, Haven, and Shade hanging in order down between the windows. Coloured lights hanging from the ceiling cast the chamber in shades of white, blue, green, and yellow, which … Sunset could see what they were going for, but it did give the hall something of the air of a disco.
A string quartet sat in the corner of the room, playing soft, soothing mingling music, while wait staff in black waistcoats and trousers mingled as assiduously as the guests, bearing trays of hors d'oeuvres and glasses of sparkling wine and orange juice.
It seemed as though the Beacon students were amongst the last to arrive, because Sunset could already see the Rosepetals in their Atlas uniforms, Blake in her black and white huntress attire, Trixie Lulamoon in her starry cape, and Arslan Altan, who had bent the dress code just a tad by wearing a robe with two sleeves instead of the one that Sunset saw her in most often.
And, of course, the guests — or perhaps if one took the view that the students were the guests, then one might call them the dignitaries — of whom Sunset recognised Professor Goodwitch, First Councillor Emerald and Bramble, Skystar Aris — that was bound to be awkward for Cardin — General Ironwood, and … a lot of other people Sunset didn't recognise.
Penny isn't the only one who needs to do some mingling.
"Penny," Sunset said, "how would you like me to introduce you to the First Councillor of Vale?"
"Um—"
"Come on, Penny; it's the First Councillor," Sunset insisted. "And while there is a risk he might be gone soon, and his polling ratings were bathypelagic when he took office, things seem to be going up for him now."
At least his party's polling was going up, to the point where it was now merely submerged and reaching out towards the surface, and the news sites were full of praise for his 'competent, managerial' style of government, 'a welcome change from the chaos of the past year'; Sunset felt that was both a little unfair to Councillor Aris, who hadn't done anything to cause the chaos of the last year, and a little over generous to Councillor Emerald, who had benefited from events without doing anything to influence them.
But that, she supposed, was politics. And she had to admit that Councillor Emerald had been dealt a rough hand — and she had better admit that she was the one who had shuffled the cards — and he had played them about as well as could be expected.
All of which was somewhat beside the point in any event; the real point was that it would do no harm for Penny to meet him, and it might do Penny a lot of good.
"Let me introduce you," Sunset said, guiding Penny forwards across the stone floor.
"Okay," Penny said. She paused. "What's he going to do when he's not First Councillor anymore?"
"That…" Sunset trailed off. "That's a good question to which I don't actually know the answer." Obviously, that wasn't an issue in Equestria, and she hadn't really paid much attention to what Atlesian councillors did when they left office. "Don't ask him that, though; it might seem like an insult."
"Oh, right."
Councillor Emerald was wearing a dark suit, with his emerald green tie the only splash of colour on his outfit; he was half-turned away from Sunset and Penny as they approached, talking to an avian faunus in a Valish military uniform. Bramble Emerald, wearing a chocolate-brown t-shirt that matched his eyes, fidgeted beside him, looking a little bored.
Probably for that reason, it was Bramble who noticed the two of them first, his eyes lighting up even as he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. "Sunset! Sunset Shimmer!"
Sunset smiled as she knelt down in front of him, one elbow resting on her knee. "Young Master Emerald," she said, "what a pleasure it is to meet you again. And how are you this evening?"
"A little bored," Bramble admitted.
"'Bored'?" Sunset cried in mock, exaggerated, theatrical — even more theatrical than usual — shock. "'Bored,' when there are so many awesome huntsmen and huntresses around here for you to meet?" She leaned forwards. "Some of them are even faunus. Get to know them, and you might have other playground options. How … you know, hold that thought; where are my manners? Master Emerald, meet my friend Penny Polendina; she's going to be competing in the tournament as well; Penny, this is Bramble Emerald, son of the First Councillor."
Penny beamed; rather than kneeling down as Sunset did to get on Bramble's level, she picked him with both hands so that he was on her level as she held him up above the floor. "It's nice to meet you, Bramble Emerald!"
Bramble looked down at the gap between his feet and the floor, and then at Penny's smiling face. "You're funny."
Penny's eyes closed as her smile widened, and she cocked her head slightly to one side. "Oh, thank you!"
Bramble laughed. "It's nice to meet you, Penny. Are you a faunus too?"
Penny's face fell a little. "No," she said. "No, I'm not; I—"
"But you don't have to be a faunus to be really cool," Sunset said. "Or brave or admirable." She put a hand on Penny's shoulder. "Or feel different from the people around you."
"Quite right," Councillor Emerald declared, crossing the not too great distance between them, his Valish officer following silently behind him. "Go too far down that road, and … well, best not." He cleared his throat as he looked down upon Sunset, and seemed to look even further down upon her by virtue of the majestic antlers that spread out on either side of his head and added an extra foot or two to his already considerable height. "Miss Shimmer."
Sunset curtsied. "Mister Councillor," she said, "allow me to introduce my friend Penny Polendina, who will be attending Beacon Academy from next year."
Penny opened her mouth, then stopped as she remembered that she was still holding onto Bramble Emerald. She put him down, gently, then straightened up and held out one hand. "It's nice to meet you, sir."
Councillor Emerald chuckled lightly as he took her hand gently, holding onto her fingers rather than her palm. "A pleasure, I'm sure, Miss Polendina. If you will not be a Beacon student until next year, then—"
"She's from Atlas," Bramble supplied. "Team Rosepetal: Rainbow Dash, Ciel Soleil, Penny Polendina, and Twilight Sparkle."
Councillor Emerald raised his eyebrows. "If my son put half as much care and attention into his homework as he did into all things huntsman- and Vytal-related, he would be the top of his class, I'm sure."
Bramble pouted. "It's boring," he complained.
"And sprouts taste foul, but they are good for you nonetheless," Councillor Emerald replied. "Homework is boring, but you won't get into a good school with a knowledge of huntsman-related trivia."
Bramble mumbled something that Sunset couldn't make out, before he said, "Do you have to do maths at your school?"
"Uh … no, not at Beacon," Sunset admitted. As Councillor Emerald's face assumed a thunderous aspect, she quickly added, "But I was brought up by someone who, like your father, was a great believer in the virtues of education. I wasn't allowed to study any of the cool stuff until I had all the boring basics down and could calculate square roots in my head."
"Ninety two," said Penny.
"Nine point five nine one six six to five decimal places," Sunset said without missing a beat.
"You're supposed to be on my side," Bramble complained.
"We're all on your side," Councillor Emerald said. "You're just too young to realise it at the moment." To Penny, he said, "So, Miss Polendina? You are an Atlas student, and you wish to transfer schools?"
"Yes, sir," Penny said. "And I will; all my papers have been submitted and approved."
"I'm glad to hear it," Councillor Emerald said. "It's rare but good to meet an Atlesian who doesn't automatically assume that their own kingdom is the best at everything." He paused and glanced away for a moment, a frown crinkling his brow. "The … recent ugly sentiments expressed towards Atlas and Atlesians in some parts of Vale didn't put you off, then?"
"Nothing like that has happened to me, sir," Penny said. "I … had to go home for some … treatment after the semester ended, so I only got back to Vale pretty recently."
"But you want to study at Beacon nonetheless."
"Yes, sir," Penny said. "I do."
"Why, if I may ask?"
"Um … because I think I'd prefer it," Penny said. "Does it matter?"
"No, I suppose it doesn't," Councillor Emerald admitted. "This kingdom needs all the huntsmen and huntresses that it can get; I'm sure you'll be a fine addition to Beacon's ranks, Miss Polendina, and I hope you'll be very happy there."
"I'm sure I will, sir, thank you," Penny said. "And I … I'm at your service."
Councillor Emerald's eyebrows rose, and stayed that way for a moment, before the corners of his mouth turned upwards in a slight smile. "Indeed, Miss Polendina? That is very kind of you; I shall let you know if I require your services." He actually sounded as though he meant it.
"Miss Polendina," the Valish officer standing behind Councillor Emerald said, taking a step forward to accompany his interjection. "Colonel Sky Beak Aris, Mount Aris Light Dragoons, presently the liaison officer with the Atlesian forces."
Penny started to salute, then stopped herself. "It's nice to meet you, sir."
"Perhaps, as an Atlas student transferring to Beacon, you might have an opinion—"
"You don't need to canvas the opinion of the student body, Sky Beak," Councillor Emerald muttered.
"Of a notion that I've been toying with over the last few weeks," Colonel Aris went on, heedless of the First Councillor, "something that I think the Council should take into active consideration."
"The public won't wear it," Councillor Emerald insisted. "The principle of voluntarism is too well-established to be cast aside so quickly."
"Even in circumstances like this?" asked Colonel Aris.
"What are you talking about?" asked Penny.
"A Valish Corps of Specialists, on the Atlesian model, to support our defence forces," Colonel Aris explained. "Beacon students funnelled into the Valish Defence Force and used to spearhead military operations without the need to rely on the mercurial inclinations of individual huntsmen and huntresses."
"I don't know what Miss Polendina might have to say about that," Professor Goodwitch said as she stalked over, her high-heels tapping on the stone, "but I know that Professor Ozpin would not approve of anything of the sort."
"Surely, the changing times require at least a willingness to consider changing one's mind in turn?" asked Colonel Aris.
"That depends on what you are asking us to change our minds to," replied Professor Goodwitch. "Funnelling students? Are you talking about mandatory conscription, or simply the use of incredibly heavy-handed pressure to join the military such as Atlas applies to its students? I must confess, neither option thrills me. The independence of Beacon Academy, and of the huntsman system, is well established."
"Just because something is well established doesn't mean that it works," Colonel Aris insisted. "Just because something has been done doesn't mean that it is the best way; the Atlesians have the ability to respond much more swiftly to situations that require huntsmen because the huntsmen are under the control of a central authority—"
"With all due respect, Colonel," Sunset murmured, "I think for some students, that might be the problem." She looked around for Ruby, spotting her and Yang having just drifted away from … someone. "Hey, Ruby!" she called out, gesturing with one hand. "Come over here a second."
Ruby came, with Yang following on behind her.
"Mister Councillor, Colonel, Master Emerald," Sunset said, "allow me to introduce my teammate Ruby Rose and her sister Yang Xiao Long; Ruby, Yang, this is First Councillor Emerald, Colonel Aris of the Mount Aris Light Dragoons, and Councillor Emerald's son Bramble, who is a big fan of huntsmen and huntresses."
"Is that right?" Yang asked, grinning as he put her hands on her hip and bent at the waist, her long blonde hair falling down over her shoulder as she descended closer to Bramble. "You must be looking forward to the tournament then, huh, kid?"
Bramble nodded eagerly. "It's going to be brilliant, isn't it?"
"Oh, it's going to be better than brilliant," Yang promised. "It's gonna be awesome!"
"Ahem," Councillor Emerald cleared his throat.
Yang laughed nervously as she straightened up, but said nothing.
"What can we do for you?" asked Ruby.
"Colonel Aris here," Professor Goodwitch said, disapproval dripping from her voice, "believes that Beacon students should be forced or strongly encouraged to join the Valish military, in a specialist branch emulating the Atlesians."
"What? No," Ruby said at once, "that's a terrible idea."
"Yeah," Yang agreed. "Yeah, it is."
"You both sound very certain of that," Colonel Aris pointed out.
"Because we are," Yang said simply.
"Why should we trust your judgement on where to go and where to fight over our own?" asked Ruby. "Why should we let you make the decisions for us? That … that's the big question; that's the only question. That's all there is to it; I just don't think that you should."
"You don't consider that someone older, more experienced, might know better than you on who needs protection, what battles need fighting?" asked Colonel Aris.
"According to you," Yang said. "I won't speak for Ruby, but I'll say this: I don't live in Vale, I live in Patch, where there aren't always enough huntsmen or huntresses, because the places that need them can't always afford them, and because the Council doesn't care. And the Council still wouldn't care if the military had control over the huntsmen and huntresses; you'd keep them all in the cities where most of your voters live, and you'd ignore Patch and the outlying villages because they don't get you elected."
"A remarkably cynical attitude, Miss Xiao Long, I must say," Councillor Emerald murmured.
Yang shrugged. "But am I wrong, Mister Councillor?"
"Considering that the Council has been paying for huntsmen to protect the outlying villages for more than half a year now, I would say that some charity might not go amiss, if not some gratitude," Councillor Emerald replied. He paused. "And yet, I doubt that you're saying what many others would not also say. Another reason, Sky Beak, why this will not work: the people will never trust a state-run system to be as responsive to their needs as the current private system."
"It's about freedom," Ruby said, "the freedom to ask for help and the freedom to give it without having to get permission first." She paused. "But, that's not to say that things are perfect right now."
"You have criticisms, Miss Rose?" Professor Goodwitch asked, eyebrows rising above her half-moon spectacles.
"Well … not exactly, but…" Ruby hesitated for a second. "Like, take Sunset and Yang. Say that they were both huntresses, looking at the job board. Someone's put a job up there for three hundred lien, and someone else put a job up there for one hundred lien because its all the kingdom will pay out for that type of job, but that doesn't mean it isn't urgent for the person who requested it.
"Sunset takes the first job, and that means she gets three hundred lien—"
"Before tax," Councillor Emerald murmured.
"But Yang only gets a hundred lien when she takes the second job. And maybe she needs to get her bike fixed, or … get her hair done, or—"
"Are you groping for the financial responsibilities of adult life, Miss Rose?" Councillor Emerald suggested.
"I'm saying that maybe that hundred lien isn't enough to live on," Ruby said. "So … yeah, I guess so. What I'm trying to say is maybe Yang doesn't take that job because she can't live on the money, and there are other jobs that pay better. But then who comes to help the person whose job only pays a hundred lien?"
"A valid question," Councillor Emerald said. "You have an answer?"
"Well," Ruby said, scratching the side of her nose for a moment, "what if Sunset and Yang worked together? They didn't work together like go on the same jobs, but when Sunset took the first job and Yang took the second job, they both put the money in a pot and then split it equally between them so that they both had two hundred lien—"
"And that is why you need to study maths," Councillor Emerald said to his son out of the corner of his mouth.
"And there'd be no reason why they couldn't take the low paying jobs as well as the high paying ones, because it would all even out," Ruby said, "and the more people you got together, sharing the fees they got like that, the more money everyone would have—"
"Possibly," Councillor Emerald said, "in your hypothetical example, if Miss Polendina were to go into this business with Miss Shimmer and Miss Xiao Long, she would have to earn at least two hundred lien to compensate the other two for the reduced amount they would receive from their initial four hundred lien now divided three ways instead of two."
"Okay," Ruby admitted. "Yeah, you might be right about that, but it's still better than a hundred lien for a huntress taking that job all by herself. It would mean less chance that people would just be left behind because their jobs don't pay enough to make it … huntsmen and huntresses could do the jobs like that and not worry because they'd have that, like a safety net underneath them."
It would help out those who work for Ozpin too, since they don't get paid for it, Sunset said. Ruby would never be so cynical as to suggest it out of her own self-interest, but nevertheless, it would do no harm.
"It could also encourage some members of this collective not to pull their weight and rely on the rest of the group to support them," Professor Goodwitch said. "One of the reasons the system is set up as it currently is is so that all huntsmen and huntresses must work hard and strive for excellence."
"I can't think of anyone who wouldn't do that anyway, Professor," Ruby replied. "Can you?"
Once again, Professor Goodwitch pushed her glasses back up her face. "… No, Miss Rose, I cannot."
"And besides," Ruby added, "If it meant that people didn't have to worry that no huntsman would show up for what they could pay, I think it would be worth it."
"It sounds all well and good, I must say," Councillor Emerald replied, "but it also sounds entirely like something that huntsmen and huntresses would have to decide for themselves, how to apportion the profits, how to organise; I take it the lack of role envisaged for the Council or the Kingdom was quite intentional?"
"Yes, sir," Ruby said, nodding her head. "I think … I wouldn't want to give up my freedom to act, and I don't think I'm the only one."
Councillor Emerald nodded. "And Miss Polendina, our soon-to-be Atlas transplant, what say you?"
"I don't really want to join the Valish military any more than the Atlesian one," Penny said, "but Ruby's idea makes a lot of sense."
"Indeed," Councillor Emerald murmured. "Well, Sky Beak, the students don't want it, and the public won't want it—"
"The public haven't been asked," Colonel Aris replied. "Although I accept the fact that student resistance is an issue. None of you can see any advantage to it at all? None of you?"
"I'm sure you'll find plenty of takers for it amongst the Atlas students, sir," Sunset said softly, "but we're not Atlas students."
"No," Colonel Aris muttered. "No, you're not, are you?"
"We will continue to provide Vale with a strong defence, supported when necessary by huntsmen and huntresses," Councillor Emerald declared. "That will have to suffice, as it has done. And frankly, the last thing we need is reckless innovations disturbing the public just as things are getting back to normal. Remember, Colonel; you're there to watch the Altesians, not to become one of them."
Colonel Aris coughed. "Yes, First Councillor."
"And now, if you'll excuse me," Councillor Emerald said, taking his son by the hand. "Miss Polendina, Miss Xiao Long, Miss Rose … Miss Shimmer." His voice dropped when he got to her name. He gave a nod in their direction and turned away, leading Bramble off in the direction of another part of the room. Colonel Aris followed after him.
Professor Goodwitch stayed but a moment longer before she murmured, "Children," and also left them to it, heading off towards a different part of the cavernous-ceilinged hall.
Sunset looked at Ruby. "So," she said, "how long have you been keeping that idea under your hood?"
"Well … I thought about what you said about how the more people started working together, the more someone would have to be in charge and everyone else would lose their freedom," Ruby said. "So I thought about ways that no one would be in charge, and I thought about people … working together but not working together; they'd cooperate, but they're not a unit or anything."
"And the working together?" Sunset asked. "The cooperation, for when numbers are required?"
"That'll happen anyway, if it needs to," Ruby said. "I mean, it did after Mountain Glenn fell, right? People will come together, if they need to."
"Yeah, you'd need a heart of stone not to in those circumstances," Yang agreed. "I mean, your idea wouldn't suit me — it kind of seems like it relies on everyone staying in more or less the same place so they can pool their money, apart from anything else — but it doesn't seem like it could hurt."
"It seems like a pretty good idea," said an unfamiliar, rather calm and deadpan voice.
A voice that was coming from right behind them.
Everyone flinched a little bit as they turned around, to see that they had been stolen upon by someone as tall as Professor Goodwitch and brawnier in the arms, armoured in the Mistralian style with a black linothorax cuirass and pteruges protected her torso and thighs, iron vambraces upon her forearms, and iron greaves and cuisses covering her legs. The greaves, the cuisses, the vambraces were all adorned with stars — stars embossed upon the metal — and set with little gemstones that sparkled under the multi-coloured lights.
Or were they all gemstones? Sunset thought that actually some of them might be dust crystals; the purple stones set on her wrists, for example, might be gravity dust.
Gravity, lightning, fire; decorative and functional.
Like Pyrrha, she wore a band of gold around her left arm. Unlike Pyrrha, there was no decoration upon the band; it was just a simple band of plain unvarnished gold, standing out against the lesser metal of her armour.
The woman's hair was a brownish blonde, the colour of honey, and tied back in a severe bun at the nape of her neck. Her eyes, that looked down upon them all, were a similar golden brown.
"Hello," said Penny, with a wave of one hand.
"Down here," said the voice, although the Mistralian woman's mouth did not move.
Their eyes travelled downwards — quite far down, as far as the big woman's waist and a little further — to where a child stood in front of her, wearing a crinkled blue tracksuit, bottom and top, and a pair of blue and white trainers on her feet. Her hair was light brown, cut in a bob that framed her face, although her bangs were half-hidden behind the large pair of goggles that she was wearing over her forehead, just above her stone-grey eyes and the pair of rimless glasses that she wore over them. She was holding a bright lollipop in one hand, that glistened in such a way as to suggest that she'd already been licking it.
"Oh," Penny said. "H—"
"Please don't pick me up like you did Bramble Emerald," the little girl said. "It would be very bad for my dignity."
"Uh…" Yang murmured. "Hey, there, kid; how did you get in here?"
"I'm an invited guest," the girl said. "I'm Iona Rockshaw, the CEO of Starhead Industries. This is Antiope, my assistant."
"I'm your bodyguard," Antiope murmured.
Sunset blinked. "You … you're the CEO of Starhead Industries?"
"The company that makes the circus robots?" Ruby asked.
"What's the point of being the boss if you can't greenlight the occasional fun project like a robot circus, right?" Iona asked as she stuck her lollipop back in her mouth.
"I guess you've got a point there," Yang admitted.
"I'm sorry," Sunset said. "You're the CEO?"
Iona took the lollipop out of her mouth. "Didn't I already tell you that?"
"Yeah, but … how old you are?" Sunset demanded. "Eight?"
"I'm eleven," Iona said, with just a touch of pique entering her voice.
"That still seems very young to be running a company," Penny said.
"I inherited it from my father," Iona said. "He had a tragic accident with a robotic elephant. An army of lawyers assure me it's fine for me to take over the company. Anyone who disagrees is free to take it up with them."
"No, no, I'm sure that's fine," Ruby said. She paused for a moment. "Those circus robots really were cool. I suppose you just told someone that's what you wanted—"
"No, I designed them myself," Iona said. She smiled, if only a little bit. "The truth is, I much prefer getting into the guts and the programming of a robot than I do signing … business stuff. I do that because I have to … and because I don't trust people not to steal my company, but I prefer to design and build the robots. Robots … are much easier than people. You can understand them perfectly. You connect their circuits in just the right way, you put the code in just the right way, and you can make them do anything, and they always do just what you want them to."
"Apart from the one that killed your father," Sunset muttered.
"Right, that," Iona murmured. "Well, maybe not that one." The smile remained upon her face as she put the lollipop back in her mouth.
Sunset found herself taking a step backwards.
"Yeah, I get it," Ruby said, seemingly oblivious to the implications of what Iona had just said. "Machines are cool that way, they make sense, there are no—"
"Hidden meanings behind what they say?" Sunset suggested.
"Yeah," Ruby agreed. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."
"Sooooooo," Yang said, drawing out the word, "it's nice to meet you Miss Boss Girl, I'm—"
"Yang Xiao Long, Penny Polendina, Ruby Rose, Sunset Shimmer," Iona said. "I studied all of your files before coming here, obviously."
"'Obviously'?" Sunset repeated.
"Antiope," Iona said, "what's the one valuable lesson my father taught me?"
"Always do your research before you invest, Miss Iona," Antiope said.
Iona nodded as she sucked on her lollipop for a few more seconds, the straw shifting across her mouth, first to the left and then back to the right again. She pulled it out of said mouth and then pointed the diminished, still glistening red lollipop at Ruby. "You."
Ruby's eyes widened. "Me?"
Iona nodded. She pointed the lollipop at Yang. "You don't interest me." She pointed it at Sunset. "Nor do you." She pointed it at Penny. "You're … very cool, but not in that way." She pointed the lollipop at Ruby once again. "But you… I'll pay you a hundred thousand lien to come and work for me."
"What?" Ruby said flatly.
"What?!" Yang cried.
"Huh?" Penny said. "What just happened? I'm confused."
"You're not the only one," Sunset said.
"It's simple," Iona said. "I'll pay you a hundred thousand lien, and you drop out of school and come and work for Starhead Industries."
"Doing what?" Sunset asked.
Iona shrugged. "Whatever I ask you to," she said. "Of course, I'll pay you a salary on top of your starting bonus."
Ruby's mouth hung open, the same way that Ruby seemed to hang with her shoulders bent forwards, like she might flop down face-first onto the stone floor. "Wh—… why…?" She stopped. She took a step forward as she shook her head. "That's really generous, but … no. I'm sorry, I'm not looking for a corporate job, not even for a hundred thousand lien. I … I need to do what I think is right, not what you want. I hope you find someone, but that someone isn't me."
"Yes," Iona said. "Yes, it is. Because you just passed your interview."
Ruby's brow furrowed. "But I—"
"If you were the kind of person who'd take my money to run errands for me, you wouldn't be the kind of person I was looking for," Iona said.
Ruby blinked rapidly. "I … I'm sorry, I don't understand."
Iona was quiet for a moment. "My … my brother wanted to be a huntsman," she said.
"Miss Iona, you don't need to tell them this," Antiope murmured.
"Yes," Iona said. "Yes, I do." She looked down at the lollipop in her hand. "Coll … wanted to help people. He wanted to help the world. But he never got the chance."
Ruby held out a hand towards her, reaching out gingerly, not quite touching the other girl. "What … happened to him?"
"The White Fang," Iona said. She was silent for a moment. "I don't want to become a huntress and honour Coll's memory. I probably wouldn't be much good at it. But I still want to make his dream come true, and I need a huntsman or huntress to help me do that. What you said, about places and people that can't afford a huntsman to come and help them … Coll talked about that. He used to say that he'd help people for nothing, since he was so rich it would be wrong to ask people to pay him.
"You've got a good idea, but there are a couple of things missing from it."
Ruby licked her lips. "What are they?"
"A wealthy backer," Iona said, "and all the dust and tech support that you could ask for. Weapons, vehicles, gadgets; if we can build it, then it's at your disposal. And I'll pay you, and anyone else in your group who goes in with you, so that you won't have to worry about the fees from any job you do. And all that you have to do in return is be a great huntress and make Coll proud."
Sunset's eyebrows climbed so high that they were nestling in her hair. That … this was … assuming this was legit, and the burly Mistralian bodyguard certainly suggested that this was at least somewhat on the up and up, then this was incredible. This was great for Ruby. This was … this was the world on a plate for her.
Free to do anything and everything she'd ever wanted, without needing to worry about any of the practicalities.
Considering everything we've put her through, I can't say she doesn't deserve this.
Sunset didn't quite take another step back, but she did lean backwards a little, rocking on the balls of her feet as she clasped her hands behind her back and allowed a slight smile to cross her face.
Ruby … would be free. Free to do as she wished, no team leader to hold her back, no teammates to mother her, no one to treat her like she was too young, no one to disagree with her, no one to argue with her.
Free to be a huntress as she thought a huntress ought to act.
Of course, that sense of how a huntress ought to act was what they'd been arguing about in the first place.
But, as Ruby had pointed out, the principle mattered; if it was good for Amber to be allowed to do as she wanted, why wasn't it good for Ruby as well? Because they were worried about her? It seemed she wasn't worried about herself, so why should they worry?
Because I know better.
Debatable. The little rich girl with all the money certainly doesn't seem to agree.
"Why…" Ruby asked. "Why me?"
"Because I think you get it," Iona said. "I think you're the kind of huntsman that Coll wanted to become. One who just wants to help. Or am I wrong?"
Ruby was silent for a few seconds, and then for a few seconds after that. She glanced down at the ground, and with one hand, she reached for the silver rose at her belt, stroking the jagged leaves with her fingertips.
"No," she said, "you're not wrong. At least, I sure hope you're not wrong. But I am just a student. I don't have my huntsman licence
"You can start when you get it; I'm not going to get old waiting for you to graduate," Iona said. "It's not like I'll be twenty. And in the meantime, if you want anything, you can just ask."
"What … what kind of things?" Ruby asked.
"Anything," Iona said. "You have any ideas, show them to me, and I'll tell you if we can build it." She paused, sucking on her lollipop. "So, you wanna come by the lab some time and talk about toys?"
"Uh, yeah!" Ruby squawked. "Yeah, I would, I … I'd like that a lot."
"Good," Iona said. "I'm counting on you."
"I know," Ruby said. "I … I'll make your brother proud, I promise." She gave a firm, vigorous nod of her head as she brought one hand up into a fist above her heart. "I'll make everyone proud, I promise."
The eyes of the whole world were turned upon Vale.
It was always thus, when the Vytal Festival began, but it was especially so now; Cinder had seen to that.
As she sat in the parlour of Portchester Manor, with Emerald sitting by her side, Emerald's scroll propped up against some hardback books so that they could watch the parade, she was reminded of the fact.
She was the one who had shaken Vale to its foundations and caused all eyes to turn towards it, not merely with curiosity but with concern.
She had done that. Whatever else she had done, or not done, she had done that.
Though all else felt like water slipping between her fingers, she had done that.
The eyes of the world were turned on Vale, and all the positive news coverage and puff pieces about the great Pyrrha Nikos couldn't disguise the fact that there had only recently been a grimm incursion into Vale itself, that the skies were full of Valish and Atlesian airships, that the streets below were full of Valish troops, that sentiment against the Atlesians and faunus alike were on the rise.
All the talk about the Vytal virtues of harmony and togetherness couldn't disguise the fact that the city hosting this year's Vytal Festival was in a decidedly unsettled state.
The police officers lining the route of the parade might manage to stop any disruption from spoiling the parade itself, and the parade of all the huntsmen might be able to drive away all fear and concern from the minds and hearts of men for a little, but after that, after the parade was over, the world would still be watching Vale with worry, not knowing what would come next.
But at least they could watch the parade and take their minds off things for a little while, just as Cinder meant to.
"Is this a very ladylike thing to do?" asked Emerald.
Cinder blinked as she glanced at her. "Hmm?"
"I asked if this was a ladylike thing to do," Emerald repeated.
"Oh, yes," Cinder assured her. "The games mark the mingling point between high and low culture, where the interests of great lords and common men alike come together. Bread and the games, Emerald, it was ever thus: the great were offered glory, the low a respite from their woes. Now, in this more egalitarian age we live in, the low may rise high and attain glory in their own right if they have the skill, but all those who do not fight are yet offered a respite from their woes, as well as a chance to admire the skills of outstanding athletes, mimicking the forms developed many generations ago by our hallowed ancestors."
"Is that why you're watching?" Emerald murmured. "For a respite from your woes?"
Cinder was silent for a moment. She drummed her fingers lightly upon her knee. "You have gotten very bold to ask me that," she murmured. "Not long ago, you would have been too frightened to give voice to the suggestion."
"I'm not afraid of you anymore," Emerald said softly. Her eyes widened a little. "In a good way, obviously."
Cinder snorted. "Thank you for the clarification," she said dryly. "The difference being, I suppose, that I have become a pussycat in your eyes, rather than you having learned to stand up to me."
"No," Emerald said. "No, it's not … I just … I don't think you'd hurt me, not anymore."
Is that a compliment? It feels at once like a compliment and, at the same time, not.
After all, it is not too far off saying that I have turned pussycat; it is only said more politely.
And what have I been teaching her, after all, but to say things more politely?
Nevertheless … nevertheless, it does not hurt me; rather…
Well, it worries me a little, but at the same time … it does not wholly displease me.
I shall take it as a compliment, even if it was not meant as one.
"Thank you," she said softly.
Emerald smiled with one corner of her mouth. "You're welcome." She paused. "You didn't answer my question."
"No," Cinder agreed. "No, I did not."
Emerald, in turn, did not respond. A silence settled between them, but a comfortable one, as they watched the parade begin, as they watched the students of Beacon, Atlas, Haven, and Shade Academies begin to march through the streets of Vale to inaugurate the Vytal Tournament.
Am I watching this for respite from my woes? Cinder asked herself as she watched Sunset, not too far from the front of the parade, her fiery hair distinctive. Am I the same as all those people lining the way, cheering for their favourites?
Perhaps I am. And what of that? I have woes as great as any, and greater than most. I have lost Salem's unbridled confidence, and very soon, I shall be of no use to her.
I have set the stage. Whatever else I did or did not do, however else I have failed, I did that. I have put all things in readiness.
Soon, the last act will begin.
But in the meantime … respite from my woes, I may join the rest of the world with its eyes on Vale and lend my support to … well, Pyrrha, having beaten me, the very least you could do is win this and prove yourself the greatest warrior of your generation.
And then the third time will pay for all.
But until then, best of luck.
Enjoy it while it lasts, all of you.
As I shall try to do.
The eyes of the world were turned on Vale.
XxXxX
They were the eyes of a little girl in Mistral named Diana Archer, eight years old, and her six-year-old sister Selene; they shared a bedroom, and on the bedroom wall was a poster of Pyrrha Nikos. On the nightstand was a picture from last year's FightFan Expo of the two sisters, with Pyrrha Nikos and Arslan Altan kneeling down on either side of them, smiling as the two sisters put their arms around the shoulders of their idols.
The two sisters were a little too young to understand the nuances of the difference between a tournament fighter and a huntress, but they both agreed that they were, collectively, the coolest people ever. Diana wanted to be a huntress/tournament champion herself when she grew up; Selene thought they were awesome, but she still wanted to be a vet and treat sick cats and dogs and bunny rabbits.
Currently, they were both lying on their fronts on the floor in front of the TV, in the house of their stay-at-home mom and caravaneer dad, roughly halfway up the city. Their parents — Dad had gotten back from a caravan run to Kisthene just in time — sat on the sofa behind them, watching the parade over the heads of the two children. As the cameras panned up and down the column of students, the two girls tried to spot the fighters that they knew.
"Ooh, look, there's Jason down there, with Meleager," Diana said. She sighed slightly. "He's so dreamy, isn't he?"
"What does that mean?" asked Selene.
Diana looked at her little sister. "You'll understand when you're older."
"There!" Selene cried, almost leaping up to her feet. "There she is, there's Arslan!"
"Yes!" Diana squawked in loud agreement. "And look, there's Pyrrha over there!"
"Where?" asked Selene
"There, next to the girl in the red hood, behind the one with kitty ears."
"Yes! Yes, I see her, I see her!" Selene shouted.
"She's only right next to you," Dad observed amusedly from behind them.
"Sorry, Dad," Selene murmured. "When they finish walking, are they going to start the fights?"
"Not yet," Mom said. "First, there's the opening ceremony, and then the lighting of the Fire of Friendship, but then, after that, yes, the fights will begin very soon."
XxXxX
They were the eyes of Leaf Kelly and her new roommate and fellow mechanic, Veil, as they sat in their decidedly modest underground Atlas apartment. The lights were off, which, with no windows, made some of the apartment very, very dark indeed, but it also meant that the image from Veil's laptop was very bright, and there were no inconvenient reflections getting in the way of the picture. This apartment was better than the one Leaf had first moved into, but they still didn't have a kitchen, so they'd gotten a sharing bucket from the fried chicken joint a couple of corridors down. It sat between them on the cheap sofa, a plastic tray ensuring that they didn't get any grease stains on the furniture.
"So, that's them, right?" Veil asked, helping herself to a fry. She was a dark-skinned human, with black hair worn in cornrows down the sides of her face and eyeshadow of almost luminescent pink above her eyes. "The one at the front of the Beacon students with black hair, and the one second Atlas row, with the rainbow hair, that's them, they're the ones who rescued you."
"Yep," Leaf agreed. "But you already knew that, right? I mean, how can you not know who Blake and Rainbow Dash are? They're big heroes now."
"I just wanted to make sure," Veil said. "You know they're making a TV show about them? At least they're talking about it."
"Really?"
"Uh huh," Veil said. "It was reported in this week's Entertainment Digest. Let me just…" She wiped her fingers on a napkin and picked up the magazine from off the floor.
"You can't possibly read in this dark," Leaf said as she popped a popcorn chicken into her mouth.
Veil angled the magazine in such a way that the light from the laptop fell upon the open page. "The new show, currently being developed for pilot, is provisionally entitled Warrior Princess, will tell the story of two Atlas huntresses, and faunus, Blake Belladonna and Rainbow Dash, based on two Atlas students who recently blah blah … as the two of them work to uncover the mysteries of Blake's past, the death of her mother, and her connection to an ancient evil threatening Remnant."
Leaf frowned. "A what?"
"An ancient evil threatening Remnant," Veil said.
"That sounds like a lame idea," Leaf said. "And I'm pretty sure Blake's mom isn't dead; she told me that she fell out with her, but she made it sound like she was still alive."
"Well, they have to make it exciting for television," Veil pointed out.
"If they didn't think they were exciting enough, why are they making a TV show about them?" Leaf replied. "Isn't fighting monsters each week exciting enough?"
"Atlesian audiences want more sophisticated entertainment these days; everything has to have an overarching plot about the end of the world," Veil said. "Still, it might be worth watching."
"Probably not," Leaf muttered. "Who's in it?"
"Um … they're talking about someone called Jacaranda Padalecki to play Blake, and Jetsam Ackles as Rainbow Dash. I've never heard of either of them."
Leaf grunted. "Let's just watch the real deal."
Veil put the magazine down and helped herself to a couple more fries. "So," she said, "which one are you rooting for?"
Leaf glanced at her. "I'm rooting for both of them, and Ruby and Sunset."
Veil rolled her brown eyes. "Yeah, but they can't all win, can they? So which is your favourite?"
"They're my friends; I don't have favourites."
"I'm not asking you to pick which one is going to live and which of them is going to die," Veil said, "just which one you want to win the tournament."
Leaf hesitated. "I don't feel right saying."
"Come on!" Veil insisted. "They're not going to know, are they? Spill it!"
Leaf huffed, and kept her eyes on the laptop as she said, "Blake."
"Interesting!" Veil said. "Why?"
"Because she's like me, kind of," Leaf said. "She ran away from her mum, she came to Atlas, she found herself … I just think that's pretty cool. I'd like to see her keep succeeding."
"And uncover the secrets of her mysterious past."
"Stop that," Leaf said. "This … this is going to be much cooler than any show that they could come up with, trust me."
XxXxX
They were the eyes of Saphron, Terra, and Adrian Cotta-Arc, who sat watching TV in the living room of their house in Argus, on the north coast of Anima. As they watched, the parade came to a close, and all the students began to file into a public park, where the headmaster of Beacon was waiting to give a speech and the Amity Princess held the torch to light the Fires of Friendship.
Saphron dandled little Adrian upon her knee. "That's your Uncle Jaune out there," she cooed, pointing to the screen. "Yes it is. Yes it is. And the woman you'll be calling Aunt Pyrrha by the time you're old enough to talk."
"Don't get ahead of yourself, dear," Terra said as she walked in from the kitchen, carrying a big bowl of popcorn in her arms and a bottle of heated milk in her hand. She sat down next to her wife and placed the bottle in Adrian's mouth.
"Oh, you saw the way that they were together," Saphron said. "If they're not meant for one another, I'll eat your … what do you have that I could eat?"
"Nothing that I'd want you to," Terra said primly. She pushed her glasses up her nose. "Although I admit that they make a cute couple. Almost as cute as you and me."
Saphron chuckled before kissing her on the cheek. "How do you think they'll do?"
"You're asking me like I'm an expert," Terra said.
"You were the one who knew who Pyrrha was."
"I know that she's good," Terra said. "As far as Mistral is concerned, she's the best, and she's proved it four times. Some people think that Arslan might finally get the win, and maybe she will, but … I wouldn't count on it. If this was another Mistral tournament, I'd bet on Pyrrha. But is there someone better out there from Vale or Atlas or Vacuo? I don't know. Maybe. We'll just have to watch and see."
"And wish them luck," Saphron added.
Terra smiled. "Yes," she agreed. "That too."
Adrian pointed frantically at the TV, wordless noises leaping excitedly out of his mouth like gambolling little lambs.
"What's that?" Saphron asked, following his pointed finger. "Oh, you found them! Who's a clever boy? You are. Yes you are. You found your Uncle Jaune and Aunt Pyrrha."
"Please stop that," Terra said.
XxXxX
They were … not the eyes of Terri-Belle Thrax, Warden of the White Tower, as she sat in her office feeling as though she might be going cross-eyed as she looked at another request for a huntsman — to escort Councillor Kiyat to one of his estates in the country. He was offering a substantial sum of money for the task, so there should be no difficulty finding a willing huntsman to take the assignment.
The next job, however, was for someone to go out to the village of Decelea, on the road north to Argus, and help a farmer there: someone or something had killed one of his sons in the fields, and the farmer wanted it — or them — dealt with. A worthy cause, to be sure, but not one that offered a particularly heavy purse.
Terri-Belle sighed. She would have taken the job herself except, that she felt chained to her desk by all of this interminable paperwork. If she could not prod either Shining Light or Blonn-Di to do it, then she would, at the last resort, order one of her Guard to go and accept the low fee.
It chafed at her to leave the mission untaken, vengeance unfulfilled, regardless of the freedom of the job board.
Behind her, visible out of the little window in the back wall of her study, a dead man swung slowly from a gibbet. One of his neighbours had accused him of worshipping the grimm.
Polemarch Yeoh had reported back what she had learned from Pyrrha Nikos about Cinder Fall, the architect of the attack on Vale. It wasn't much, and offered little to benefit Mistral or enable them to prepare their defences, but Pyrrha had let slip that Cinder Fall was apparently a grimm cultist driven by pursuit of their insane creed.
It was illegal to worship the grimm in public, to keep a black altar in your house, for any man or woman to be a priest of that profane faith, or for more than three people to gather in worship of the grimm in private. By special edict of the Council, those laws had been tightened: any worship, public or private, was prohibited on pain of death. The danger to Mistral would not be tolerated.
Terri-Belle was … she would confess herself to be a little concerned about the low standards of evidence on which some people were being convicted, but … there were no summary judgements handed down, no rubber-stamped warrants for execution; everyone who was accused was tried before a jury of their peers in accordance with the laws and customs of Mistral, and in accordance with those laws and customs, it required a majority vote of the jury to convict them. If a jury of honest Mistralians felt that the accusations of a neighbour, the discovery of a poppet — a cursed doll meant to sic the grimm upon they whom the doll represented — was sufficient to vote to send a man or woman to the gallows then who was Terri-Belle to gainsay them?
The House of Thrax were stewards, not emperors; they were servants to the law, not masters of it.
And while some of the evidence, and the sudden emergence of a class of people who seemed to make it their business to lurk under windowsills listening for any incriminating word that they could take to the Praetor, troubled her somewhat, surely they were better than the alternative? Surely it was worth it to keep Mistral safe?
The thought inured her against the sound of the gibbet swinging squeakily back and forwards outside her window.
Swift Foot stepped into the room, her eyes lingering for a moment on the dead man outside, before she looked downwards at Terri-Belle.
"It's starting," she said.
"Enjoy it then," Terri-Belle murmured, not needing to ask her what was starting.
"I'd enjoy it more if you were there," Swift Foot replied.
"I'd enjoy that too," Terri-Belle said softly. "Unfortunately, I'm busy."
"And who warned you that taking on all of this work yourself was a terrible idea?" Swift Foot asked.
Terri-Belle looked up to glare at her.
"Well, I did," Swift Foot muttered.
"Yes," Terri-Belle admitted. "You did. But it was necessary, even if you were right."
"You deserve a break," Swift Foot insisted. "Everyone deserves a break; it's the Vytal Tournament! It's a public holiday!"
"Not for huntsmen, unfortunately," Terri-Belle replied. "The downside of setting your own hours is that you don't get public holidays."
Swift Foot was silent for a few seconds. "You know, some would say that as the Warden of the White Tower, the highest huntress in Mistral and as a Vytal finalist yourself, it's your duty to watch Mistral's hopefuls compete for the honour of the kingdom."
Terri-Belle looked at her. "Seriously?"
Swift Foot shrugged. "Semi-seriously."
"Enjoy yourself," Terri-Belle said, looking back down—"
"Oh, come on!" Swift Foot said. "You can dip in and out for the Mistral matches, they don't take very long, you can spare that amount of time. And you can make up for it by sleeping less." She smiled. "And besides, I don't see anyone beating a path to your door looking for work right now, do you?"
She had a point there: she could catalogue the missions on offer, but having taken on the job of managing all the assignments, she was dependent upon huntsmen and huntresses actually wanting assignments. They had to come to her, and Terri-Belle would lay out what was on offer, how much it paid, how dangerous — as rated by Terri-Belle herself based on the information provided — and then they would either take the job they wanted or leave them alone.
And as Swift Foot had pointed out, there was no one here at the moment.
Which meant … she couldn't say it wasn't tempting.
Swift Foot was right; the individual matches themselves didn't take very long.
"I will be in and out," she said. "For the Mistral matches only."
"Fair enough," Swift Foot agreed. "Hey, do you really think it'll come home this year?"
"It had better," Terri-Belle said as she got up. "I don't know when we'll have a chance like this again."
XxXxX
They were the eyes of Juturna Rutulus, sat on the sofa in the sitting room, intermittently tearing her eyes away from the giant TV to tear open another bag of popcorn.
About twenty opened bags of popcorn already littered the sitting room.
And there were some unopened bags still on the seat next to her.
She stuck one hand into the bag and rummaged around, her fingers groping through the toffee popcorn until she felt something plastic. She fumbled for it, reaching deeper into the bag until she could get two fingers scissoring the flat, plastic object lurking with the box. With a triumphant grin on her face Juturna pulled out a Pyrrha Nikos card.
"Lavinia Andronicus again!" Juturna moaned.
A shadow fell over Juturna, causing her to look up into Turnus' face.
"Hey, bro," Juturna said. "Is Camilla coming?"
"She's finishing up in the kitchen," Turnus said. He put his hands on his hips as he added, "Although I don't suppose you'll be very hungry for the next few weeks. You know, you might have waited until you'd eaten the first bag before you opened the second or the third."
"It's not about the popcorn, duh!" Juturna replied. "I want the cards. Or at least, I want a card. I've got a Pyrrha, two Arslans, three Cicero Ward the Youngers, Jason, Meleager, three each of the Andronicus siblings, two Phoebe Kommenoses— do you think they know who the contests are before we do?"
"I think they might make cards for all the students on the off-chance," Turnus replied.
"The point is, I really want a Ruby card, and I can't find one anywhere," Juturna said. "I've opened all of these bags, I've got a ton of Pyrrhas, like I said, I've got her boyfriend and her right-hand girl, but I don't have Ruby yet."
"Hmm," Turnus murmured, without a lot of sympathy. "Are you going to eat all of those?"
"Maybe, eventually, some of them," Juturna said, grabbing another unopened bag of popcorn. "I mean, it's not like we can't afford to waste them, right?"
"True, I suppose," Turnus muttered. "Even so, it's a little excessive."
"I'll eat some of them eventually," Juturna assured him. "I don't want to fill up too quickly, though; what have we got?"
"A quiche, with spinach, beans, and tarragon," Turnus said.
Juturna looked up at him for a moment. "I think I might prefer the popcorn," she said, popping open another bag.
"Is that so?" Camilla asked as she carried the quiche into the sitting room. "I am sorry to have disappointed you."
"No, no, I didn't … don't do that," Juturna said. "I'm sure it will be great. Do you ever think it's a little weird that you two know how to cook?"
"Father always said that it relaxed him, helped him to unwind," Turnus said as he sat down next to her. "I think the smiles on your face as you ate his cakes definitely didn't hurt either."
Juturna leaned sideways, resting on Turnus' arm and shoulder. "They were pretty great, weren't they? And he didn't even need to use a packet mix sometimes. Did you guys make the pastry yourselves?"
"No," Camilla said, putting the quiche down on the table in front of them. "The pastry came in the same delivery as all your popcorn."
Juturna reached inside said popcorn packet, because it was open by now after all, and soon found what her fingers were looking for, pulling out— "Ruby!" she yelled. "I got it, finally, yes! A Ruby card!" She held up the card triumphantly, a very cool-looking picture of Ruby Rose posing with her scythe held behind her, blade on the ground and the shaft lancing upwards past her head. Juturna wondered if she practised that.
"Camilla, Camilla," she said, momentarily turning to mist and air as she travelled across the sitting room — using her semblance to avoid tripping over the table and knocking the quiche onto the floor or something, to end up kneeling in front of the TV. "Take a picture: me, watching Ruby, with my Ruby!"
XxXxX
They were the eyes of Lieutenant DJ Martinez, VPD, who had been … strongly encouraged by her captain to take some time off. Apparently, she hadn't taken enough days off this year. Or the year before.
It was a view with which her husband was in wholehearted agreement. Martinez would have thought that of all the people who might understand why she worked so long and so late, it would be a coast guard officer, but apparently not. Traitor.
Still, now that she was lying on the couch, and on the lap of her husband, Mike, with a bowl of cheese puffs on her own lap, taking some time off didn't feel like such a bad idea.
I wonder why I don't do this more often.
Crime. All the crime is why I don't do this more often.
Her two sons, Stuart and Tyler, were both wearing huntsman costumes — not any particular huntsman than Martinez recognised, just generic ideas of huntsmen — and they were running up and down in the living room, laughing as they whacked at one another with plastic swords.
"Hey, hey, settle down, you two!" Martinez called to them, loudly but not harshly. "If you want to do that kind of thing, go outside; I don't want you breaking anything in here."
The two of them lowered their swords. "Sorry Mom," moaned Stuart.
Tyler turned around to look at the TV. "Hey, when are they going to start fighting?"
"Soon, buddy, they just got a few things to take care of first," said Mike, as with one hand, he played with Martinez's hair absently. "Now step aside a couple of inches; you're blocking the view."
Tyler stepped out of the way. "Which are the ones that you know, Mom?"
Martinez put the bowl of cheese puffs down on the floor as she rolled off the sofa and crawled a little closer to the TV to get a better view. The cameras kept moving around, but fortunately, she was used to that; she could spot a suspect in a crowd in a snap of her fingers. She looked for Weiss' distinctive white hair; unfortunately, with how short she was, she was kind of hidden by just about anyone who was bigger than she was — which was pretty much everyone.
Cardin was easier to spot; his hair wasn't so unique, but there weren't many kids his age who were as big as he was or built like he was, and so, she soon spotted him, sticking up in the ranks of students like a rock emerging out of the water. From there, she could spot Russel's mohawk and — now that she knew where to look — Weiss' brilliant white hair.
"There!" she said, pointing. "There, that's them, they're the ones that I got to work with. Team Wisteria. Weiss, Cardin, Flash, and Russel."
Tyler and Stuart both leaned in for a better look.
"If they worked with you, then they must be the best," Tyler said.
"Nah, Mom's the best," Stuart said. "But everyone who works with her is just lucky."
"Well, that is very sweet, but they are actually pretty good," Martinez said.
"Good enough to win?" asked Tyler.
"I don't know about that, sweetie," Martinez admitted, "but they are pretty good, so I would say … they're in with a shot." She nodded. "Yeah, they gotta be. They gotta be in with a shot."
Now don't make me look like an idiot after I said that by getting knocked out in the first round, okay, kids?
XxXxX
They were the eyes of the Arc family, and many guests who had come around to their house, either invited or otherwise. Some had come round because they knew that 'the Arc boy' or 'young Jaune,' who had come home for a visit recently much changed — and with a lovely-looking young girlfriend to boot; who would have ever seen that coming? — was taking part in some big old shindig in the city. Some had come round because the Arcs had a television set, one of the only ones in Alba Longa, and their neighbours wanted to get a good look at it.
For once, Mrs. Arc wasn't doing the cooking; rather, since the weather was keeping fine and there were an awful lot of guests — and because it seemed appropriate to the festive spirit — Mister Arc was out in the garden out back, practising that most masculine of the arts: the barbecue.
He was joined by Kendal, who expertly flipped a burger over on the grill.
"You've gotten pretty good at that," Dad observed, turning over a sausage. He smiled. "I remember when I tried to show your brother how to do this — I thought he was going to set himself on fire!"
Kendal chuckled. "Yeah, Jaune was happier in the kitchen," she said. She paused for a second. "Funny, isn't it? Who would have thought he'd end up at Beacon, and about to compete in the Vytal Tournament?"
"Who would have thought?" Dad agreed. "But, you know … lately, I … I've been thinking: about Jaune, about you … was it ever difficult for you, like it was for Jaune?"
Kendal shrugged. "I … maybe. A little."
Dad looked at her, eyebrows rising.
"Okay, yeah, more than a little sometimes," Kendal replied. "You weren't exactly supportive."
"I've been thinking that maybe I didn't give Jaune enough credit for the courage of being himself," Dad said. "Or you, for that matter."
"Well, Jaune wasn't always trying to be himself; he was trying to impress you half the time," Kendal pointed out. "But … thanks, Dad. I think that would mean a lot to Jaune if he were here to hear it."
She flipped the burger again. "And that's another one done. Anyone want a burger? Or another burger?"
From out of the crowd of friends and neighbours milling around stepped Miranda Wells, raising one hand timidly. "I'll take one," she said.
"Coming right up," Kendal said, whirling around to grab a paper plate from off the folding table behind her, then putting half a bun down upon it. With practice ease, she flipped the burger down onto the bun. "Cheese, sauce?"
"Um, no cheese, but I'll have some mustard, if you—"
"Gotcha covered," Kendal said, grabbing the big mustard tube that they only used for barbecues and squirting a great big glob of the stuff right down into the centre of the burger, before she planted the top half of the bun down squarely on top of it. "And there you go."
"Thanks," Miranda said softly, as she accepted the proffered burger with both hands, one hand holding the plate and the other resting on the top bun.
Kendal put her hands on her hips. "So how are you doing?"
"I…" Miranda hesitated for a moment. "I'm better," she said. "I'm doing better." She paused. "Big day for Jaune, huh?"
"Yeah," Kendal agreed. She put one hand on Miranda's shoulder. "You know, if you need anything … just let me know, okay?"
Miranda smiled softly. "You mean, like a refill or another burger or something?"
Kendal nodded. "Yeah," she agreed, trusting that Miranda knew what she really meant. "Yeah, exactly."
"Thanks," Miranda said. "I'll bear that in mind. You know, you two are going to miss everything if you stay out here. Opening ceremony is almost over."
"It's not unmissable," Dad assured her. "Ozpin's probably using the same speech he gave when I was a student."
"Was it a good speech?" asked Kendal.
Dad shrugged. "It wasn't bad. But we'll be done here before the fights start, don't worry. If people haven't eaten by then, it's their fault."
At that moment, Sky came out of the house and made a beeline for the barbecue. "At this rate, we're going to run out of beers," she said.
"Send Chester round to the store to pick up some more," Dad said.
"Rouge already did that," Sky said. "Even so, it's a big crowd."
"It's a big day," Dad said. "A big few days, even more for Pyrrha than for Jaune."
"Because she's got more fights ahead of her?" Sky guessed.
"Yep," Dad agreed. "And because each fight, you have fewer teammates with you, and each fight, the pressure builds."
"But she's got Jaune waiting for her when the fight ends," Kendal said. "That's something worth fighting for, right?"
"It better be," Sky said.
"For her, it is," Miranda said. "I'm sure it is."
"I'm sure you're right," Dad said. "At least, she convinced me as much as she convinced anyone else. So we should probably get the rest of this meat served up before the opening ceremonies end. Okay, who wants sausages?"
XxXxX
They were the eyes of Doctor Diggory, where he sat ensconced in an armchair, while young Miss Pole and young Mister Scrub sat on the settee nearby eating ham sandwiches, while some of Mrs. Macready's lemon cupcakes waited on the table in front of them for when they were finished.
"Is everyone who helped us competing in this tournament, Doctor?" asked Miss Pole.
Doctor Diggory took a sip from his teacup. "Miss Shimmer, Miss Lulamoon, and Miss Glimmer are all present," he said, "but not Miss Doo, I'm afraid. After what happened … she doesn't have anyone with whom she could fight in the earlier matches."
"They could have let her try anyway," said Mister Scrub. "I mean, she's brave enough, isn't she?"
"Without a doubt, my dear boy, but rules are rules," Doctor Diggory replied. Personally, he had always, even when he was a student himself, found himself agreed with young Mister Diggory: it was unfair, frightfully unfair, that those students who lost a teammate were barred from competing in this, the greatest of all contests, when it might be said that they had proved their worthiness more than any others. But what could be done? How was it to be managed? If they were allowed to compete with fewer members, would that give them an unfair advantage?
And, if it did not, what did that say about the teams they were up against?
"In any case," he went on, "our friends who are present will no doubt appreciate your support."
"Did you ever compete in the tournament, Doctor?" asked Miss Pole.
"Oh, yes," Doctor Diggory replied. "Of course, I was a much, much younger man then. As I recall, we did rather well. I fought in the second round, the two-on-two, and we were victorious, although my team leader chose to send one of the other fellows into the final round. We both wanted it very badly … and then he lost his match, and I never let him forget it." He chuckled softly to himself, momentarily overcome by the memory of bygone days long ago.
My goodness, the world seemed simple then.
Simple and grand and ever so glorious.
I wonder if it seems as simple to those young men and women there today?
It was not likely that it seemed so simple to Miss Shimmer, Miss Glimmer, or Miss Lulamoon. Still less to Miss Doo. Not after what they'd been through here at Arcadia Lake.
He hoped, he very much hoped, that all the fun of the festival would be a balm to all their burdens. It had been for him. After Mountain Glenn, Vale had been the next kingdom to host the festival, although there had been many arguing that it was too soon or inappropriate, nevertheless, it had gone ahead, and Diggory had found himself drawn to it, wandering the fairgrounds, watching the children, the eager students, all the tourists, just reminding himself that there was still so much life in the world, and so much good.
It had helped him to find a little peace.
He hoped with all his heart that the young huntresses who had come to defend Arcadia Lake when it was in need would find some of that same peace by the time this festival was over.
XxXxX
And many, many more. Across the kingdoms, across all of Remnant, the eyes of the world were turned towards Vale as their hearts reached out towards the Amity Coliseum, pinning their hopes and dreams upon one hundred and twenty-eight huntsmen and huntresses who would fight for kingdom, school, and honour … and for the delectation of the crowds.
The eyes of the world were turned on Vale, the hearts of the world reached out towards the arena … but would they behold a shining light of hope, or a dark fire of death and destruction?
The voice of Professor Port boomed out across the arena. "Aspic Braun has been eliminated! And with that, Team Aspidistra is out of the match! Team Sun of Haven Academy stands victorious!"
"Yes!" Blake said, pumping both fists. "Great job, Sun!"
Applejack chuckled. "Ah think you might need to shout just a little bit louder if you want him to hear you from all the way over there, sugarcube."
Sun turned, and pointed a pair of fingerguns squarely in Blake's direction. Looking up at one of the big screens presently displaying a closeup of Sun's face, Pyrrha could see that he winked at her.
Blake's cheeks flushed. "Did he … hear me?"
"With his heart, perhaps," Pyrrha murmured, a smile playing across her lips.
There were seats in the front two rows of the Amity Arena that were reserved expressly and explicitly for Vytal Festival contenders — in a certain section of the front two rows, in any case; it would have been an awful lot of room to waste cordoning the entire front rows of this vast arena purely for a maximum of one hundred and twenty eight students — but Team SAPR and Blake had joined Rainbow Dash's friends amongst the general crowd.
That had its disadvantages — Pyrrha thought that she had been subject of at least two photographs, and those were just the ones who had been indiscrete about it — but, since Rainbow's friends weren't competing in the Vytal Festival, and since Blake in particular wanted to watch these matches in their company, there was little to be done about it.
And Rainbow's friends were good company, in any case.
"That's the second loss for Atlas in a row," Rarity observed. "I have to admit I'm a little disappointed."
"Sun's very good," Blake said. "And so is the rest of his team," she added.
Sunset snorted. "Smooth. Very smooth."
"It's just the way it is," Applejack said. "Some you win, and some you lose; you celebrate the winnin', and you learn what you can from the losin' and get stronger next time. Ain't nobody can win every single thing every single time, not even Atlas."
"And besides, there's still Rainbow Dash's fight to come! They ain't seen nothing yet!" Pinkie cried.
She was rather curiously dressed in a short tank top that left her midriff bare to the world and a short skirt that barely covered her thighs, while her knees were at present concealed beneath the pair of blue and red pom poms that she was holding onto. Pyrrha wasn't sure why, but she suspected that she'd find out soon enough.
Her hair was tied up in a pair of rather large buns on either side of her head, so that they looked like rather pom poms themselves.
"Maybe not," Jaune said, "but the Haven fans certainly seem to be enjoying themselves right now."
He was quite right. The whole Colosseum was awash with noise, cheering for the victors, the occasional mean-spirited jeer for the defeated Atlesians, but one sound gradually rose above the discordant harmony of the arena: the cheering of the Mistral crowd transforming from a babble of wild tongues crying wildly out, to a united choir that was, more or less, managing not to hit the right notes, but at least all to follow the same beat as they half-sang, half-chanted the old familiar song.
"There's always something faintly premature about that song," Pyrrha murmured.
"You've heard that song before?" Jaune asked.
"Oh, yes, it's been around for a few years by now," Pyrrha said, "ever since Lady Terri-Belle made it to the final fight ten years ago. 'Thirty years no yield, never stop believing.' I suppose it should be forty years now." She could not help but sigh. "Forty years since the last time a Haven student, or a Mistralian in whom Mistral felt it could take pride, won the Vytal tournament."
"Why do they say it's coming home?" Ruby asked. "The Vytal Festival doesn't belong to Mistral, and neither does the tournament."
"No," Pyrrha agreed, "but Mistral invented heroic combat as a spectator sport — there have been no arenas found by archaeologists that predate what we might call Mistralian civilisations — and the Vytal tournament is the supreme expression of that art, and so, it galls my people that we are not supreme in it."
"Forty years, that is a run of bad luck," Applejack said. "Makes Atlas losin' two matches on the trot seem pretty small apples by comparison."
"I'm not sure the crowd will agree with you," Rarity replied, "unless Rainbow Dash can restore some lustre to the name of Atlas in this next match."
Blake folded her arms. "Pyrrha," she murmured. "Do you think … do you think the fact that Sun is from Vacuo will count against Sun with the crowd?"
"It doesn't seem to be counting against him at the moment," Sunset said. "The crowd's still going, listen."
"It's coming home!
It's coming home!
It's coming!"
"My understanding was that Sun doesn't have any particular links to Vacuo beyond the accident of having been born there," Pyrrha said.
"I'd say that was fair enough," Blake allowed.
"Then unless Vacuo tries very hard to claim him as their own, he should be safe enough," Pyrrha said. "What Mistral wants most of all is a winner, and he proved himself to be one today."
Blake smiled. "Yes," she agreed. "Yes, he certainly did."
"That was another disappointing result for Atlas Academy," Doctor Oobleck declared, his words somewhat blurring together as they echoed out over the tannoy, his face — along with that of Professor Port — appearing on the giant screens. "But they'll have a chance to win back some of their dignity with our next exciting match!"
"Yes, it's an Atlas versus Haven rematch coming up next," Professor Port declared. "Will Team Rosepetal of Atlas and Team Jasmine of Haven please make their way up to the arena so we can start this next match as quickly as possible? Team Rosepetal have made something of a name for themselves this year with their combat performance, but will it be enough to overcome their opponents?"
"Who can say, Peter, who can say?" Doctor Oobleck asked. "Doing well against grimm or against petty criminals is no guarantee of success against highly skilled, well-motivated huntsmen and huntresses."
"'Petty'?" Sunset repeated. "'Petty'? I'm sorry, who are they calling petty criminals?"
"They're just trying to fill the air," Pyrrha said softly.
"There was nothing petty about some of the criminals we went up against," Sunset declared.
"They're just trying to fill air," Emerald murmured apologetically.
"I am no petty criminal!" Cinder cried, jabbing her finger in the direction of the scroll as she got up from her chair and began to pace up and down. "I am Cinder Fall, I am half a Maiden, I am fear and fire and foe, and I will not be made light of by a pair of bloviating halfwits from a commentator's booth! They should stick to stating what we can all quite plainly see with our own eyes. Hundreds of years, Emerald, the noble traditions of the arena have endured without the need for commentators or a punditocracy; now we cannot watch but we must endure the opinions of these two learned professors. 'Petty.' Really?"
"They were probably talking about Torchwick," Emerald offered.
Cinder snorted. "They will learn their lesson soon enough," she declared, still pacing up and down, her slippers tapping on the floor. "Call me petty, the nerve of it!"
XxXxX
"We, and all of you, will find out soon enough," Professor Port said. "But before then, as we wait for the thrilling match, time for some messages from our sponsors."
The image of Professor Port and Doctor Oobleck up in the commentator's box dissolved and was replaced by a video of a clean-cut man, looking a little overdressed in a jacket and shirt — but no tie — as he stood in a hospital room, beside the bedside of a woman holding a kicking, squirming baby in her arms.
A guitar began to play over the soundtrack, and a voice began to sing slowly.
Short clips briefly flashed across the screen — the man watching the baby crawling around on the floor of a family home, clapping delightedly as a little girl took her first steps out in the garden, dropping her off at school — all of them intercut with images of the same man, getting gradually older but never appearing to change his clothes, walking down the same street somewhere in Mistral.
A man in a hoodie, hood up to conceal his face, stepped out in front of him with a knife as the music slowed.
The camera lingered on the knife as the man in the hoodie brandished.
And the man in the suit pulled out a gun that had been sitting concealed beneath his jacket and shot him.
The music returned as the camera now lingered upon the MARS lettering upon the barrel of the black pistol.
A clip of the man watching his daughter's graduation gave way to what was, even without any dialogue, obviously the daughter bringing a boyfriend home to meet her father.
Her father who was ostentatiously cleaning some of his wall of MARS firearms.
Until the prospective boyfriend pulled back his own jacket to reveal that he, too, was carrying a pistol on his hip.
The father nodded approvingly.
"MARS," came a deep voice in voiceover, as the image transformed to a joyous wedding day, and then finally a return to the hospital room for the birth of a grandchild. "By your side, for all life's moments."
Sunset blinked. "I … what was that?"
"That was the MARS Vytal Tournament advertisement," Pyrrha explained. "They release a special one each festival; some people look forward to it a great deal."
"Huh," Ruby said. "You'd have thought that an advert for an arms dealer would have had more actual weapons."
"I suppose they wanted to highlight what the weapons represent," Pyrrha replied. "Safety and security."
"It was pretty wholesome," Ruby conceded.
"The slogan is a bit vacuous though," Sunset said. "'By your side for all life's moments'; that doesn't mean anything!"
"Hey, Pyrrha, it's you!" Jaune said, pointing up at the screen, which was now showing … a Pumpkin Peter advertisement.
"Oh no," Pyrrha murmured, wondering if she would be best off putting her head in her hands. She remembered filming this, and she doubted it had gotten any better since.
"Psst! Pyrrha!"
Pyrrha looked around in the direction of the fortunate distraction: Medea Helios stood on one of the staircases running up the many levels of the bleachers, the hood of her dark blue shawl down, beckoning to Pyrrha with one slender hand.
Pyrrha would have embraced practically anything that meant she didn't have to watch that awful advert — she had been glad to be the face of the cereal, but doing the television side had confirmed that she was not cut out for acting — so she stood up and excused herself as she sidled in front of Jaune and Ruby and those other spectators who sat between her and the staircase.
Apologising as she went, she gained the stairs, where Medea descended a step to put herself beneath Pyrrha.
"I'm very grateful to be summoned like that," Pyrrha informed her, "though I am a little curious as to why. Shouldn't you be preparing for your match?"
"Time enough for that, Lady Pyrrha, time enough," Medea said lightly. "In the meantime." She turned downwards, and near the bottom of the steps Pyrrha could now see the rest of her team waiting: Atalanta, Meleager, and Jason.
With the same hand that she had used to beckon Pyrrha towards her, Medea now imperiously gestured towards her teammates.
Neither Jason nor Meleager quite met Pyrrha's eyes as they climbed up the steps towards her. They had both grown up since the three of them had trained under Chiron, even as Pyrrha had herself; some might even say that they had grown into handsome young men, although Pyrrha herself preferred slightly softer features in a boy. Jason was square jawed, his dark hair cropped short atop his head, his golden eyes looking anywhere but at Pyrrha; Meleager's hair was a dark brown, but longer and curly, a well-tended bush surrounding his head, and his eyes were smouldering coals of dull red.
Jason wore a leather cuirass, Meleager's was linothorax of fiery red; in neither case did it prevent them from bowing at the waist.
Jason coughed into his hand to clear his throat. "Lady Pyrrha," he said. "I … we … owe you an apology."
"That was many years ago," Pyrrha murmured.
"Nevertheless," Meleager murmured. "It was … we were a pair of little twats."
Pyrrha had not expected him to phrase it in quite that way. Her eyebrows rose up to meet her gleaming circlet, as her mouth formed a slight O of surprise.
Meleager shrugged. "It's true, no?"
Pyrrha hesitated. "You were children," she said. "We were all children."
"You didn't try to poison us," Meleager pointed out.
"Our jealousy was unbecoming," Jason murmured.
Pyrrha didn't bother to deny that. They were absolutely right; it had been unbecoming of them both.
But at the same time, she had no desire to hold a grudge over it. She did not hold a grudge over it, she scarcely thought of it; it was merely something that had happened to her some time ago. A thing of little consequence.
"Apology accepted," she said, smiling down at them.
Jason closed his eyes and let out what sounded like a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Lady Pyrrha," he said. "You are most gracious."
"And we are most grateful," Meleager added.
"There," Medea said, "now that wasn't so hard, was it, boys?"
Jason glanced at Meleager, and then at Medea. "No," he admitted. "No, it wasn't."
Medea chuckled. "A gracious apology will always be accepted by a gracious person. Thank you, Lady Pyrrha; that is a great relief to them and me. But now I'm afraid we have to go; we must prepare to beat your Atlesian friends."
"You may not find that so easy," Pyrrha warned.
A smirk crossed Medea's purple-painted lips. "They may not find it so easy to beat us either, Lady Pyrrha." She snapped her fingers as she turned away. "Come along, dearest, and you, Meleager. Battle awaits us, after all."
Pyrrha watched them go, then sidled back into her seat, apologising as she went as she stepped in front of people on the way, looking down to avoid legs and holding onto her sash so that it didn't get caught on anything.
"Who were they?" asked Applejack as she returned to her seat.
"They," Pyrrha said, "were Team Rosepetal's opponents."
"Oh, goodness," Fluttershy murmured. "What did they want?"
"To apologise to me for an insult long past," Pyrrha said. "It's a long story; you wouldn't want to hear it."
"Are they any good, darling?" asked Rarity.
"Not as good as Rainbow Dash!" Pinkie declared.
Pyrrha considered for a moment. "Jason and Meleager both trained under a very well-regarded master," she said, neglecting to mention that she had trained under that same master. "Medea and Atalanta, I have not seen fight, but Haven selected its Vytal competitors by battle, so … they cannot be wholly without skill."
XxXxX
Rainbow Dash pulled her sweat bands over her hands to her wrists, then followed up by pulling a pair of fingerless gloves on over her hands. "You know," she said. "I don't really see why they can't move the lockers up to the Colosseum while the tournament is on. Then we could just arm up and move out instead of having to arm ourselves then fly up to the arena."
"Because that's such a hardship," Twilight murmured.
"Yeah, I know, but it would be convenient," Rainbow said, as she pulled the Wings of Harmony out from her locker and started buckling them across her chest.
Ciel took her Distant Thunder out of her own locker. She extended it for a moment — in a direction so that it was not pointing at anybody — and checked the sights. "On the other hand, their presence there would be inconvenient if we were attacked on the ground. We need our weapons here in case we need our weapons here. Tautology, but true."
She checked the chamber, then collapsed her weapon into its more portable form and slung it across her back.
"I guess, though if we get attacked, we're going to have more troubles than just waiting a little longer for our lockers," Rainbow muttered.
She pulled out Brutal Honesty and Plane Awesome and checked both of them weren't already loaded before she proceeded to load them both and sling them into the holsters at her hips. She looked at Undying Loyalty, nestled cosily at the back of the locker. It was tempting, but there was a strict - mostly strict, you could bundle up disposal throwing weapons so they only counted as one; sadly the same didn't apply to guns - two-weapon rule at the Vytal Festival, and she was already testing the spirit of the rules with her wings and two guns.
She slammed her locker door shut. "Okay, team. Is everyone ready?"
Twilight's armour spread up her body like a living thing until it had completely subsumed her within it. "Ready," her voice echoed out from behind the helmet.
"I am armed and well prepared," Ciel said.
Penny, of course, didn't have to get anything out of her locker and had simply been sitting quietly in the locker room waiting for the rest of them to be done. She got to her feet. "Combat ready."
"Awesome," Rainbow said. She looked over them, her team. Hers to lead, hers to protect, hers to take pride in. "Okay everyone, listen up because I've got something to say."
They all looked at her. At least Penny and Ciel both looked at her; it was a little hard to tell what Twilight was looking at because that armour covered up her face.
Still, Twilight was probably looking at her; she wasn't the kind to look anywhere else.
Rainbow took a couple of steps towards the rest of them, and as she walked, she gathered her thoughts and turned them into words. Speeches for tournaments or other sporting events were a little different than pre-battle speeches; they were a little less … formulaic. Or at least they could be; there was no saying that you couldn't give a formulaic speech before a tournament or an exhibition match, but you didn't have to use quite the same formula.
Leadership class had even spelled out why that was the case: because nobody was going to die in a tournament and everyone knew that, and so there was no reason to be scared in the same way that creeping dread would steal upon you before a battle or terror grip you at the moment when the fighting started. No, before a tournament, with it all, ultimately, in good fun, you didn't have to worry about acknowledging people's fears or the dangers of the situation because there weren't any. You could just go for it and gin up as much enthusiasm as you could get.
But at the same time … it was the beginning of the end, wasn't it? And it would have felt strange not to acknowledge that just a little bit.
"This team," Rainbow said, "has not been … it hasn't quite worked out the way that it was supposed to. Twilight … well, you're getting a lab from General Ironwood, so I guess this all worked out pretty well for you in the end."
Twilight's visor retracted, revealing her face. "I'm honestly trying not to think about that too hard."
"Why not?" Rainbow asked. "It's great news for you and for Atlas." She looked at Penny. "Penny, I hope you find what you're looking for at Beacon next year." She paused a moment. "Ciel … I don't know what the future holds for either of us, but if I have any say in the matter at all, I would be honoured to continue serving alongside you."
Ciel did not respond right away. She was silent, and still, and a bit of a statue, kind of. Finally, she said, "You … have not been so bad a team leader as I feared you might be. I, too, would be amenable to continuing our relationship."
Rainbow nodded. "Glad to hear it," she said. "And, as the life of this team comes to a close, I think it's fair to say that whatever issues we might have had, our combat performance hasn't been part of the problem. We've beat the White Fang, we've beat grimm, we took down Torchwick, and whatever Professor Port and Doctor Oobleck might say, all of that is way harder than winning a fight in the Amity Colosseum."
"I think they were just saying that to keep the crowd on the edge of their seats," Twilight murmured.
"Whyever they did it, it was insulting," Rainbow declared. "This team might be ending soon, but before this team actually comes to an end, I want us to bring the curtain down with some victories that we and Atlas can be proud of, with the whole of Remnant watching. And I'm going to be honest with you all: Atlas could use a win right now."
It wasn't just Team APDT that had been taken out; before that, Team VERT had been torn a new one by Team UMBR of Shade — of Shade Academy! The barbarians really were at the gates — without yet managing a win. Atlas was zero for two, and not even against Beacon, which wouldn't have been great but would have been better than being two down against the perennial also-rans at the start of the tournament.
"We are zero for two, and I don't know about the rest of you," Rainbow said, "but I am not going to let it be zero for three. Not me, not this team. We are not going to embarrass General Ironwood like that, we are not going to embarrass Atlas like that, and we are not going to embarrass ourselves like that! I don't know what the problem was with Team Aspidistra or Team Verte, but this is Team Rosepetal, and we have chewed up and spat out everybody who has come to play with us! Atlas is counting on us to uphold the honour of the school and the kingdom; our classmates are counting on us to win back all our rights to hold our heads up high and be proud to wear the whites. General Ironwood is counting on us to save him some face today.
"Team Jasmine … I've looked at their files. They're not bad. If they were that bad, they wouldn't be here, but you know what they're not? They're not us. They haven't faced what we've faced, been through what we've been through, fought the battles that we've fought. We can do this. I know we can do this. So who's ready to get out there and win one for the General?"
"YES!" they cried, raising their fists in the air.
"Then let's get out there and get it done!" Rainbow declared, as she turned to lead the way.
To their last campaign.
XxXxX
"So, this is it," said Vice Principal Luna, sitting with her sister in Celestia's office, watching Celestia's propped-up scroll on the desk as they both waited for the match to start. She took a sip of tea. "Canterlot's favourite daughter takes the stage."
"Do you mean Rainbow Dash or Twilight?" Celestia asked amusedly.
Luna chuckled. "It brings back memories, doesn't it?"
Celestia nodded. "It certainly does."
Her eyes strayed to a photograph on her desk, not far from her scroll: a photograph of herself and her sister in their younger days, taken just after they'd won their match in the two vs. two round.
She still thought that Luna had been unlucky against Qrow in the singles. Her gaze left that photograph and went to the wall, to the picture of Rainbow Dash and her friends that hung there along with other photographs of those students of whom Celestia was especially proud.
"And now a new generation takes their moment in the sun," Celestia said. "One day, it will be the turn of Rainbow and Twilight to watch TV and feel nostalgic for days gone by."
"One can only hope they last that long," Luna murmured darkly.
"Yes," Celestia said. "We can hope."
XxXxX
"Atlas isn't doing so hot so far, huh?" Juturna said as she took a fistful of popcorn out of the tub and stuffed it into her mouth. Her cheeks puffed out like those of a squirrel as she chewed on it.
"No," Turnus murmured. "No, they are not."
"No one can win all battles; they have had ill luck, as anyone might," Camilla said. "Haven, on the other hand, had a stroke of good fortune; that is no guarantee it will continue on."
"'Good fortune'?" Turnus asked.
"Team Sun lacked any coordination or teamwork," Camilla declared. "They were fortunate."
"You think so?" Turnus asked. "I thought that Sun Wukong and Neptune Vasilias worked together well enough."
"But Scarlet David and Sage Ayana worked together with them not at all," Camilla replied. "They were like two teams of two loosely allied against a common enemy, rather than a single team of four."
Juturna said something that was too indistinct to make out, a wordless mumble accompanied by bits of popcorn falling out of her mouth to land on Turnus' lap.
He swept them away onto the floor with one hand. "Swallow first," he said.
Juturna rolled her eyes, then swallowed. "But they still won," she said. "Which means if you're right, then the Atlesian team must have really sucked."
"That…" Camilla paused a moment. "Yes, it does imply a greater lack of skill on their parts that they could not leverage the situation."
"Atlas will turn things around, I have no doubt," Turnus said. "Although, if they do not … I suppose it might be pleasant to see Haven on a winning streak for once."
XxXxX
"Off to a great start, huh?" Swift Foot said.
Terri-Belle's response was a wordless mumbling sound.
Swift Foot frowned. "Are you actually watching this, or is your mind still in your office with all of your paperwork?"
"Half of it is," Terri-Belle admitted.
Swift Foot rolled her eyes. "Come on, relax! Try and enjoy yourself! It's the Vytal Tournament; everyone is taking the day off, from the lowliest peasant to the wealthiest merchant."
"I think the lowliest peasant may be scraping to survive as they always have," Terri-Belle muttered, "and I doubt the shepherd in the fields is taking the day off to watch the tournament for the simple reason that the wolf and the bear are not taking the day off from preying on the flock. Our enemies are not resting; I—"
"Can go back to your desk when there isn't a Haven team or Pyrrha competing, how's that?" Swift Foot suggested. "I'll come get you when it's an important match coming up."
"A Haven match is not necessarily an important match," Terri-Belle said, her leg twitching as though she wanted to leap up from her seat already. "I think Atlas will pull back a triumph in this next battle."
"You don't think Haven can keep up this run of success?"
Terri-Belle looked at her as though she had just said something slightly imbecilic.
Swift Foot sighed. "Okay, I know, it's Haven, but this team has two people trained by Chiron himself—"
"And what is it really worth to be trained by Chiron?" asked Terri-Belle.
Swift Foot blinked rapidly, not really knowing how she ought to respond to that. "I … I mean, he trained you, didn't he? And trained you well?"
"Yes," Terri-Belle said. "Yes, he did, and from him, I learned many things, yet that alone was not enough to carry me to glory, nor did it enable me to kill the scorpion who has been hunting our huntsmen and huntresses. To have been trained by Chiron, to be given an honour band by him, it grants no power to me, nor any other pupil of his. Jason and Meleager have been well taught, they could have no finer instructor, but … who taught Sun Wukong? A Vacuan by birth, someone with no name and no connections, and yet, he led his team to triumph. Why?"
Swift Foot thought about it. "Because … he's good?"
"Because he is hungry," Terri-Belle corrected her. "Because he knows that he has nothing but his skill and drive to prove himself and earn his place. I … I sometimes fear that we old families, or even provincial gentry like the House of Helios or Aetolis, are too … complacent, too cosseted by our old names, our history, our inherited wealth. We have so much to fall back on, so much to grease our paths in life, that we lack the edge of those who have no recourse but to fight for all they have."
"We're supposed to earn what we have through service to the kingdom and the people," Swift Foot pointed out.
"'Supposed to' indeed," Terri-Belle said. "But do we?"
"You do," Swift Foot said. "And I will, and … and if you're right, then how do you explain Pyrrha Nikos? If you're right, then why hasn't Arslan Altan from the lower slopes won the regional tournament?"
Terri-Belle was silent for a moment. "You may be right," she admitted. "I suppose … we will just have to see what happens in this next match."
"So, your girl's up next," Veil observed. "One of your girls, anyway."
"Yep," Leaf agreed. "This next match is going to be awesome."
"You think she'll win?"
Leaf looked at her. "Do I— yes. Yes, I think she'll win, I know it. Rainbow Dash is going to kick ass. She took down the entirety of SDC security; beating four other students isn't going to be any problem at all."
XxXxX
"Scootaloo, why have you got your scroll up like that?" Apple Bloom asked. "You're going to miss Rainbow's first match."
"No, I won't; I'm using the camera function," Scootaloo said. "I can see everything going on through my scroll."
"Why don't you try seeing it through your eyes?" Apple Bloom suggested.
"Because she needs to take pictures for her Rainbow Dash scrapbook, right?" said Sweetie Belle.
"Yep," Scootaloo said, nodding along. "I can't not have pictures of Rainbow's Vytal fights in there."
"Did you just say 'Rainbow Dash scrapbook'?" asked Sunset.
"Yeah!" Scootaloo said enthusiastically. "I don't have it with me right now, but I can show it to you sometime if you like."
Sunset was silent for a second. "I hope she understands how lucky she is," she said.
XxXxX
"Thank you for joining me, Lady Belladonna," Cadance said, rising from her seat to welcome the other woman.
Kali smiled. "Please, Councillor Cadenza, call me Kali."
"Only if you call me Cadance," Cadance said, returning Kali's smile with one of her own. "Please, sit down."
Kali did so, taking the seat next to Cadance. "This is … a lot more private than I expected."
Cadance currently had one of the boxes at the top of the coliseum all to herself, with the remaining ten seats currently lying vacant, although Shining Armor was standing in front of one of them as he stood guard behind her, and the rest of her security detail was taking up a little space as well.
"Yes, it's a privilege of my position," she said. "And a sad necessity." There was a part of her that would rather be watching down in the stands with Twilight's friends, but that was the kind of security nightmare that she would never be allowed to indulge in. And so here she was, exiled to the upper boxes which only the wealthiest could afford. "The view is not the greatest, but you'll find the refreshment selection on the right arm of your chair very comprehensive."
"And complimentary?"
"Of course," Cadance said lightly. She handed Kali a set of opera glasses. "You might need these."
"Thank you," Kali said. "Although I think Blake might prefer it if I didn't see her fight. Not that I intend to take any notice of what she wants in this instance." She glanced at Shining Armour. "Not dressed like your other bodyguards?"
"He's my husband," Cadance said. "He's just overprotective."
"Ma'am," Shining Armour said to Kali.
"I see," Kali said. She grinned. "Nothing like having a big, strapping man around the house to make a woman feel safe, is there? But I doubt you asked me to join you simply to show me your fine husband or treat me to complimentary refreshments."
"General Ironwood might be joining us, as and when and if his duties permit; I trust that isn't a problem."
"I have no quarrel with the Atlesian military," Kali said. "I always felt it was Atlas that had a quarrel with us."
"Something we can discuss," Cadance said. "I asked you to join me so that we could talk in private. Although not perhaps during this match. I don't want to miss a second of this."
XxXxX
The cheers of the crowd echoed down from the rising banks of seats that rose up all around the circumference of Amity Arena. They echoed down upon Team RSPT as they made their way into the arena, walking across what were currently blank, featureless modules, mere metal sheets, a white latticework criss-crossed with grey beams. Once the battle began, the featureless flat would disappear and be replaced by the terrain over which the battle would be fought, but for now, it was a flat surface for the two teams to cross to the hexagon in the very centre of the ring.
Team RSPT made their way into the centre of the arena from the north, while the Mistralian Team JAMM made their way in from the south, until they were both standing in the hexagon, lined up and facing one another.
The voices of the crowd were dissolved into an unintelligible mass of noise, in the same way that Rainbow couldn't make out any faces, just a load of people in the distance. But she could — and she would swear to this — make out Pinkie's voice, rising high-pitched above all the others to cheer her on.
It put a smile on Rainbow's face as the two teams faced each other.
"As I understand," said one of the female members of Team JAMM, Medea Helios, the one who was hiding her face under the hood of her cloak and the gilded skull of a ram worn like a helmet, "you four are friends of Lady Pyrrha."
"Pyrrha?" Penny repeated. "Yes, we're friends of Pyrrha."
Medea chuckled. "Don't expect us to go easy on you on her account."
Penny blinked. "I … I don't understand; why—?"
"They're trying to make us angry to put us off balance," Rainbow said. "Don't expect us to go easy on you either, for Pyrrha's sake or any other reason."
The other girl on their team, Atalanta Calydon, snorted, "The way these two have behaved, Lady Pyrrha would probably thank you for going rough on us."
"Ugh," said Jason Chrysomallos, the team leader. "Atalanta, that sounds like an innuendo."
Atlanta wrinkled her nose. "It does?"
"Yes, yes, I'm afraid it does," Jason muttered.
"Oh," Atalanta said. "Well, it wasn't meant to."
Professor Port's voice boomed out across the arena. "Team Rosepetal of Atlas!"
The cheers from the sections of the stands most occupied by Atlesians and their supporters were redoubled as the names of the RSPT members flashed up on the board, showing all their aura levels as being in the green.
"Versus Team Jasmine of Haven!" This time, the cheers rose from the Haven sections, as the names of the huntsmen of JAMM appeared opposite the Rosepetals and allowed Rainbow to start putting names to the faces confronting her team.
Jason Chrysomallos, the leader, didn't look like he shaved as much as he should; maybe he was trying to grow a beard, but if he was, it wasn't really working out for him. His cuirass was uncoloured brown leather, and he wore a golden fleece down his back like a cape, with the ram's skull with its two golden horns acting like a kind of helmet. He had a short sword in one hand and a large round shield — larger than Pyrrha's, maybe as much as twice the size — in the other.
Atalanta Calydon was a bear faunus, with claws where her fingernails ought to have been; that didn't stop her holding a bow in her hand with an arrow fitted to string. She was wearing a white tunic that stopped just above her knees, and her chestnut hair was cut short above the shoulders. Around her neck, she wore a loose necklace of boar tusks on a string. Brown sandals wound around her feet and ankles, and brown fingerless gloves covered most of her hands. Beside her bow, she had a long knife with a bone handle with a pommel carved in the shape of a lioness' head, and hanging from her belt by a pair of brown strings was a single, simple-looking brown pouch.
Rainbow wondered if she had dust crystals in there.
Medea Helios wore a light purple dress that was kind of narrow but at the same time looked loose enough that it wouldn't get in her way if she tried to move; over the dress, she was wearing a dark green cloak with the hood up, and over that, she was following the lead of her team leader in wearing a golden fleece, with the skull resting on top of her head like a cap or a helmet and casting a shadow over her so that between that and the cloak, the only thing that was visible was her chin and her lips, which were painted blue. Rainbow couldn't see a weapon on her, but then, she couldn't see her hands either, so she must be hiding the weapon in the long sleeves of her dress the same way.
Meleager Aetolis had dark hair that was long and curly; it surrounded his head in ringlets like a tangled bush. Like his team leader, he was trying to grow a beard, and like his team leader, he was ending up less in 'beard' and more in 'forgot to or couldn't be bothered to shave.' His cuirass was a fiery red, and so was the cloak that fell down his back, except for the hem where it was trimmed with a fiery yellow. He had a brilliant red spear in his hand which, judging by its look, Rainbow guessed transformed into something else, while he was wearing a vambrace on his right arm that had a gun mounted onto it on the outside. No, not a gun; a miniature flamethrower if Rainbow as any judge, going by what looked like a little dust canister hooked up to it by a tube strapped around his arm. He looked a bit off balance, he kept looking at his off-hand, and Rainbow guessed that he usually had a shield and probably another vambrace with a second flamethrower, but that he had had to leave them both behind due to the Vytal tournament's two-weapon rule.
Them's the breaks, thought Rainbow, her thoughts briefly flying downwards to where Undying Loyalty waited in her locker.
"Both teams, prepare for battle!" Professor Port commanded as the sound of the crowd was redoubled.
Both teams readied their weapons: Rainbow drew her pistols and aimed them at Meleager, who brandished his spear at her; Ciel aimed her rifle at Medea; Penny brought Floating Array out of her back, the swords circling around her head like a halo, all pointed at Atalanta, who responded by aiming her bow at Penny; Jason stepped into a guard, his shield held before him, while Twilight did not react at all.
All around the edges of the arena, the terrain indicators began to light up, cycling between the different options available like the cherries and pineapples on a slot machine: woods, mountains, desert, all flipped past until the icons behind RSPT landed on a symbol that Rainbow didn't recognise until a set of urban ruins, all shattered buildings and broken walls that looked as though it had been bombed out, rose up behind them.
A rocky desert, dominated by a vast and towered mountain of brown rock, arose behind Team JAMM.
"Three," Doctor Oobleck's voice boomed across the arena. "Two … one. Begin!"
Distant Thunder boomed as Ciel took the first shot, but the members of Team JAMM had already scattered, dodging and diving as they ran … backwards? They were retreating already, running towards the cover of the rocks that littered the desert sand in the shadow of the mountain, zig-zagging as they went so that neither Ciel's thunderous rounds nor the laser fire from Floating Array could quite hit them.
Actually, that wasn't quite true; Penny managed to wing Atalanta on the shoulder and knock her down for a moment, but it didn't stop the others running, and once she got up — minus a good slice of her aura – it didn't stop her from running either.
Rainbow's first impulse was to pursue, but though that impulse screamed at her, she resisted it. She resisted it because it was likely to get at least some of her team taken out, and even in a mock battle, that was something that she'd prefer to avoid if at all possible. JAMM were running not because they'd been forced to but because they'd decided to. That meant that they had a plan.
"Back!" Rainbow ordered, because if JAMM had a plan, she wanted to find out what it was from a safer position than standing out in the open in the middle of the battlefield. "Fall back to cover!"
"Oho, what's this?" Professor Port asked, as sections of the crowd started booing at the sight of Team RSPT emulating JAMM and breaking behind them for the cover of the urban ruins. "Are both teams running away from each other?"
"I can't decide if he's playing for the crowd or demonstrating his lack of fitness to be a teacher," Ciel muttered barely above her breath as she leapt over a low wall and took cover behind it. The rest of the team did likewise.
"What do we do now?" Penny asked as she got halfway to curling up into a ball like a hedgehog behind a particularly low patch of ruined wall.
"If anyone sticks their head above cover, shoot them," Rainbow said. "Like her!" she said, pointing at Medea who had just risen to her feet. Rainbow had to duck as Atalanta loosed a fire dust arrow in her direction. It flew over Rainbow's head and exploded brightly but harmlessly.
The powerful desert sun — yes, the desert biome came complete with its own sun, because this coliseum did nothing by halves — was in their eyes, but between Rainbow's magenta goggles, the fact that Penny had photoreceptors instead of eyes if you wanted to be technical, and Twilight's armour, the only one who was really in trouble from the bright sunlight was Ciel; and even Ciel had a one-eyed visor covering her shooting eye. If JAMM were relying on the sun to blind RSPT, they had another thing coming.
Which was probably why they seemed to be relying on Atalanta's arrows to keep their heads down while Medea did whatever it was she was doing.
Medea raised her hands. Penny fired at her with three of her swords, green bolts streaking across the arena towards her. Jason threw himself between Medea and the fire, raising his shield as all three laser bolts struck it more or less in the centre, hurling him backwards into the mountain.
But by then, it was too late.
Rainbow's eyes widened as skeletons began to rise out of the ground in the centre of the arena. No, she wasn't lying, and she wasn't exaggerating. Actual skeletons with swords and round metal shields were popping out of the ground. A couple of them had spears, but for most of them, it was sword and shield as they rose one after the other in the centre of the arena, surrounded by a ghostly blue light that made them look even creepier than the fact that they were skeletons would have.
Is this her semblance? What kind of a creepy person has a semblance like this?
Ciel shot one of the skeletons, blowing it to smithereens with a single shot of Distant Thunder, but another skeleton simply rose out of the ground to take its place.
The skeletons, sixteen in total, stared at RSPT out of their lifeless sockets. Then, slowly, they began to advance, marching forwards in regimented unison with their swords and shields held useless by their sides.
Ciel fired again; another skeleton was blown to pieces before a replacement rose out of the floor. Then, with a blood-curdling scream, they charged, shields held before them and swords and spears brandished above their heads.
Rainbow fired, spraying bullets from both pistols into the midst of the skeletal horde. Ciel kept shooting; Twilight thrust her armoured fists forward, blasters emerging out of the vambraces to fire purple beams into the skeletal horde; Penny rose up from behind cover with all her swords retracted into carbines as bolt after bolt erupted out of every fang of Floating Array. But every skeleton that was knocked down picked itself back up again, and every skeleton that had its head knocked off simply stumbled about for a moment until it found its head and put it back on again; and for every skeleton that was completely destroyed, another rose out of the centre of the arena to take its place and charge towards Team RSPT. And they were getting closer all the time.
"Logic dictates that if we defeat Medea, then these creations of her semblance will disappear," Ciel said as she blew one away.
Rainbow had emptied the mags in both her pistols. She reloaded but held her fire. "Okay," she said, "here's what we're going to do: Penny, you are going to hold this position and keep those skeletons tied down; Ciel, fall back to high ground and give me covering fire while I get over there and take out Medea; once I've done that, you'll continue to provide cover while Penny joins me for our counterattack. Twilight … stay here with Penny."
Twilight sounded almost amused. "Got it."
"Does everyone else get it?" Rainbow asked.
"Understood," Ciel said.
"Penny?"
Penny nodded. "Got it. I can do this."
"I know you can," Rainbow replied. "Okay, we've got this, so let's get it done! Ciel, move!"
Ciel broke cover, turning and running towards the two-storey building, or at least the reasonable facsimile of what had once been a two-storey building that was, in the end, just a couple of walls and the remains of two floors stacked one on top of the other. Nevertheless, it was the highest ground on their side of the battlefield, and Ciel ran towards it, her skirt leaping up and down as her legs pumped, Distant Thunder rising and falling like a ship on rough seas. As Rainbow saw her leap up onto the first floor, Rainbow herself started to retreat, backing away from the skeletons, leaving them to Penny, who was fencing with the closest ones with some of her swords while using a few others as carbines still to keep shooting at the more distant manifestations of Medea's semblance.
She left Twilight too.
"Twilight?" Rainbow said.
"Go, go on," Twilight said, as her left gauntlet began to project a lavender shield in front of her. "Win one for the General."
Rainbow took a deep breath. It's only a mock battle. She took another step backwards and unfurled her Wings of Harmony.
As the metal feathers spread out around her, Rainbow took to the skies.
She soared upwards, over the ruins and the desert both, dodging an arrow loosed at her by Atalanta as she rose, rising close to the edge of the forcefield that surrounded the battlefield and protected the spectators from any stray bullets or arrows or flying contestants being flung out of the ring. If the arena was its own little world, then Rainbow Dash flew to the top of the sky before she began to descend, like a shower of bombs dropped from an Atlesian cruiser, straight towards Team JAMM.
XxXxX
Ciel gained the upper storey of the ruined building — fortunately, it didn't feel like it was about to collapse beneath her feet, despite the lack of supporting walls — and crouched down at the edge of the wall, putting Distant Thunder to her shoulder and lowering her eye to see the battlefield through the scope.
Through the scope, where everything was so simple.
She could see Rainbow Dash descending. Jason and Meleager were getting ready to defend Medea, but she could certainly … why was Atalanta breaking off?
The bear faunus girl had loosed a few arrows at Rainbow Dash as she flew, but now she was running away from Rainbow Dash, abandoning her three teammates and running towards Penny and Twilight — and Ciel.
She stopped, nocking two arrows in quick succession and shooting them upwards towards Ciel, who had to scramble aside along the rooftop not to be struck by them.
Ciel raised her rifle scope to her eye again. This battle had been filled with manoeuvres that seemed strange — the retreat of JAMM, the retreat of RSPT, even her and Rainbow's actions at first — all of which had been part of a plan to achieve victory. It would be foolish in the extreme to assume that Atalanta's behaviour did not stand in the same line.
She, then, was Ciel's target, and she seemed to be aware of the fact by the way that she was dodging, diving, darting this way and then that, never moving in a straight line, never staying in the same place.
Precognition On!
If anyone had been standing close by, and not distracted by the battle raging all around, they would have seen Ciel's eyes turn a brighter and more brilliant blue.
Thanks to her semblance, Future Echo, she could see not only what was but what would be, she could see where Atalanta would move before she moved there, and more importantly, she could shoot her there.
She tracked, not Atlanta's movements, but the echo of her movements, the sight of where she would be when Ciel's bullet struck.
She fired, Distant Thunder roaring.
Atlanta was hit in the chest and hurled backwards, and through her scope, Ciel could appreciate the look of surprise on her face as she was hit despite her efforts to prevent it, tossed backwards out of the central hexagon and into the sands of the desert biome.
Ciel worked the bolt of Distant Thunder, and a large cartridge case thumped down onto the roof beside her.
"It seems that Ciel Soleil has activated her semblance!" Professor Port declared. "This allows her to perceive the future movements of her adversaries and target not their present locations, but their future one."
Thank you for revealing my secret, Professor, Ciel thought. There were certain students who had opted out of consideration for the Vytal Tournament because when they faced someone in battle, they didn't want them to know everything that they could do from seeing it on television.
Ciel was beginning to understand their position.
Especially since it wasn't only the audience at home who could hear the commentary, but Atalanta.
The Mistralian huntress leapt to her feet and launched a flurry of arrows towards Ciel's position, the blur of her swift motions seeming even blurrier by the fact that Ciel was seeing not only her current movements but her future ones as well. Arrows leapt from the string of her bow, and the fact that Ciel could see where those arrows were going to land did not free her from the necessity of evading them, and it was Ciel's turn to play the leapfrog as she darted this way and that, avoiding the flight of this dart and then another as they landed here and there, striking the roof. Some of them, Ciel could see, were primed with fire dust, and it was necessary for her to momentarily vacate the top floor lest she be blown off it in any case by the explosions which she had foreseen. Once they had exploded, harmlessly, and conscious that she could only sustain her semblance for so long — her best record before her aura entered the red was three minutes — Ciel leapt back up onto the roof to find that Atalanta was on the move again.
Ciel took aim at Atalanta's future location. She could see the echo of her opponent reaching into her pouch and pulling out … something, it was too small to make out, but she would throw it towards Penny and the skeletal figures with whom she and Twilight were locked in combat.
Ciel fired.
Atalanta was struck, but not before she had thrown the object that Ciel could not make out. As Atalanta was hurled backwards again, her aura dropping into the deep yellow that was not far from red, that which she had thrown soared through the air, bounced and skidded along the ground and finally came to a halt not far from Penny's feet.
It was a marble. It was an ordinary glass marble of dark … it was glowing. Before Ciel's eyes, before all their eyes it was glowing. It was turning golden, as golden as … it was the most golden thing in the world, the most beautiful desirable thing in the world.
So beautiful that she could not take her eyes off it.
XxXxX
"And now it is the turn of Atalanta Calydon to use her semblance," Professor Port said. "Now, this unique skill allows her to use some of her aura to imbue an object with glamourous properties."
Penny wished they would both shut up, because they were both distracting her. Distracting her from the precious gem at her feet, the golden marble.
She didn't care about anything else, certainly not the ethereal skeletons slashing at her or stabbing her, taking slices off her aura as they did so. What did that matter? What did her aura matter? What did any of it matter when there was this beautiful marble to look at?
To behold its gilded radiance was all that she…
All that she…
Wanted.
Wanted…
Wanted … what she…
What I want.
What I want is…
What I want … is to choose what I want!
I want to decide for myself!
Penny tore her eyes away from the golden marble. The spectral skeletons were all around her, hacking at her, stabbing her, taking her aura down. And two of them had brought Twilight down to the ground; she must have been distracted by the marble too — she still was; she didn't seem to be reacting at all as her aura dropped lower and lower.
Penny moved her arms as best she could, sweeping her swords around to clear away the space, slashing the skeletal figures aside, batting them away with the combined strength of all her blades united.
Then she brought one foot down upon the golden marble, crushing it beneath her heel.
"What— what was…? Ahem, forgive us ladies and gentlemen," Professor Port said. "It appears that we, too, were affected by Atalanta Calydon's semblance."
"Though it appears that Penny Polendina was not!" Doctor Oobleck declared. "How did she do it?"
XxXxX
"That's a good question," Sunset said, leaning forwards. "Could it be…?" She left the question unspoken, but lingering in the air nevertheless.
"Could it be what?" asked Pinkie.
Pyrrha didn't answer her, but rather Sunset as she shook her head. "I don't think that's it. She was affected, you could see that, she was as affected as any of us."
"But then she just wasn't?" Ruby said.
"I wonder," Pyrrha murmured. She began to smile.
"Wonder what?" asked Pinkie.
"I wonder," Pyrrha repeated, "if Penny might have found her semblance."
XxXxX
Ciel blinked rapidly as she shook her head. What … what had—?
"…by Atalanta Calydon's semblance."
Ah, yes of course.
"Though it appears that Penny Polendina was not! How did she do it?"
Thank you, Penny, Ciel thought; she would ponder the whys later; for now—
She took aim at Atalanta, who appeared somewhat stunned by the way that Penny had just resisted her semblance.
Ciel took the shot before she could recover.
Distant Thunder roared angrily.
Atalanta's aura broke as she was tossed like a ragdoll across the sands.
"And that's our first elimination of the match as Atalanta Calydon's aura is depleted!" cried Professor Port. "First blood to Team Rosepetal!"
XxXxX
Rainbow Dash dropped down feet first, falling from the skies as her wings folded neatly back into the jetpack with a series of clicks and clanks and rattles of shifting metal.
Jason and Meleager both moved to cover Medea, and as they did so, Meleager raised his vambrace, and, yep, it was a flamethrower, which Rainbow could astutely determine from the way that it sprayed fire upwards in a cone of crimson towards her.
Rainbow shielded her face with her arms, crossing them in front of her; yes, the flames licked at her aura, she could feel the heat all around her as the fires engulfed her, sure it wasn't the most comfortable experience, but she knew that she had enough aura to withstand the flames, easy.
Just like she knew she had enough aura for an aura boom.
Rainbow hit the ground wreathed in flame, a fiery comet dropping out of the heavens, and like a comet, she hit the ground with force. Her knees buckled to a crouch, she landed one arm out, but with the other hand, she punched the ground beneath her as she made landfall, kicking up sand in all directions, throwing out a booming shockwave all around her which threw Jason and Meleager backwards and off their feet, arms flailing as they were tossed over the sands to land upon the backsides.
Leaving Medea wide open.
Rainbow didn't give any of Team JAMM time to recover. Her target was right in front of her, and so she sprang forwards, a rainbow trailing after her as she streaked across the sands.
Medea fumbled in the baggy sleeves of her dress, producing a knife with a crooked blade that zig-zagged back and forth for some reason; she brandished it in front of her.
Rainbow came in fast, and as she closed, one hand shot out to grab Medea's wrist and twist the dagger from her hand.
Medea winced in pain.
She did a lot more than wince as Rainbow drove her first into Medea's stomach, making her bend double with a gasping oof at the same time as she was knocked backwards.
Rainbow hit her again, in the stomach once more with her other hand, then with her right again across the jaw, knocking the ram's skull off her head as face snapped sideways. One more to the gut, lifting her up into the air and then an uppercut to send her flying as her aura dropped into the red.
"And Medea Helios becomes the second member of Team Jasmine to be eliminated!" Doctor Oobleck shouted, as the crowd went wild from the Atlas side of the stadium. "Can Team Jasmine turn this around with only two huntsmen left in contention?"
Not a chance, Doctor, Rainbow thought, as she turned on her toes, sand scraping beneath her feet, to face the last two members of Team JAMM.
They had both regained their feet, and now they closed on her from both sides. Meleager was aiming his flamethrower at her again.
Which was why Rainbow closed with Jason, the rainbow trail marking her semblance as she sped over the sands towards the leader of the enemy team.
She drew Brutal Honesty and Plane Awesome and fired them as she ran, firing one gun at Jason and the other at Meleager; she made Jason bring his shield up to cover his head, and she gave Meleager something to think about for a second.
Rainbow ploughed bodily into Jason, crashing into his shield, wrapping her left arm around it even as she aimed Brutal Honesty underneath it and held the trigger down, emptying the magazine into Jason's stomach.
He shouted in pain and slashed at her face with his sword. Rainbow discarded her machine pistol and let go of his shield as she leaned backwards, letting his blade pass harmlessly over her head as she kicked him in the shin.
He was wearing greaves, decorated with more rams' heads because why not, and so, Rainbow felt the blow through the aura around her foot, but Jason felt it too, because his leg buckled underneath him, and he dropped to one knee.
Rainbow straightened up and made to kick him in the head when she heard the roar of Distant Thunder, accompanied by the pulsing, hissing sounds of Penny's lasers all firing at once.
"And in a single volley, Meleager Calydon's aura is depleted, and he is out of the match!" Professor Port.
Thanks, guys, Rainbow thought. And now she kicked Jason in the side of the head, knocking him sideways.
He rolled and rose to his feet, sword and shield still gripped tightly in his hands.
He had to have known that he had lost the match, but nevertheless, he faced Rainbow Dash, hands steady, face set with determination. She had to give him credit for that.
His blade was glowing blue; Rainbow guessed that it was ice dust.
He charged at her, shield held before him, blade raised. He swung his shield at her. Rainbow grabbed it with both hands, using it — and the fact that it was strapped to his arm — to hold onto him as she turned, spinning on her toes, carrying her opponent with her until she threw him like a frisbee.
And as she threw him, she hit him with a good dose of her aura for good measure.
And as he flew, she kept on hitting him, able to keep up with his movements thanks to her speed semblance, able to follow up, able to keep on laying into him while he struggled to respond, lashing out with her fists left and right, one, two, three, four, until his aura dropped into the red and Rainbow Dash let him drop, defeated, down onto the sand.
"And with the elimination of Jason Chrysomallos, the entire Team Jasmine has now been eliminated!" Doctor Oobleck shouted. "Victory goes to Team Rosepetal of Atlas!"
"YES!" Rainbow yelled, raising both fists into the air as she jumped for joy. "Yes! Yes, we—" She realised that one of her opponents was lying right in front of her and so she forced herself to calm down, clearing her throat. "I mean, um, ahem, good… good game, well fought, uh—"
"Don't worry about it," Jason groaned. "You won fair and square; you've got a right to celebrate." He grunted as he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, then gradually rose to stand on his feet again. "Rainbow Dash, yes?"
Rainbow nodded. "That's right."
Jason took a deep breath. "I … I am honoured to say that I took lessons from Chiron in Mistral. I will be equally honoured to say that I took lessons in the Amity Colosseum from you."
Rainbow grinned; she didn't know how serious he was about that, but she grinned all the same. "Thanks."
"Do well," Jason told her. "The farther you go, the easier the sting of this will be to bear."
Rainbow snorted. "I'll do my best, since you asked. But now…" She glanced back to the ruins, where the rest of her teammates waited.
"Of course," Jason said. "I have consolation of my own to offer. See you around, Atlas."
"See you around, Mistral," Rainbow replied as she sped back across the sand, across the central hexagon, back to the ruins, where Ciel descended from her high point to join Penny and Twilight.
"It's done, then?" Penny asked. "It's over? We won?"
"It's over, Penny," Rainbow agreed. "We won. How do you feel?"
"It … was fun," Penny said. "But it might be even more fun to watch, without having to actually worry about what's happening."
Rainbow hesitated. "You know … if you and Ciel want to—"
"No," Penny said. "No, it's fine; you two should go on. You both did really well today."
"We all did well today," Rainbow told her. "That's why we won."
"A victory for Atlas," Ciel said, "the first victory for Atlas. Yes, indeed, I think it is not unfair to say that Rainbow is correct: we have all done very well."
XxXxX
Luna leaned back in her chair. "They did it," she said softly.
Celestia chuckled. "Was there ever a doubt that they would?"
"There is neither shame in losing to a skilled opponent nor shame in contemplating that those you would rather win may be so defeated," Luna said. "Those semblances of the Jasmine girls were quite something."
"But they relied on them too heavily, I think," Celestia said. "They seemed helpless before Rainbow Dash at close quarters; what are they teaching them at Haven?"
"You may well ask," Luna muttered. "Or perhaps we should not ask and simply take pride in Rainbow Dash's skill and accomplishment?"
Celestia smiled. "Yes, Luna, why not? That sounds like a much more pleasant idea."
XxXxX
Swift Foot huffed. "That was disappointing."
"As a display of skill in arms, I thought it was quite entertaining," Terri-Belle murmured.
"Yeah," Swift Foot admitted. "I was still hoping for Haven to win, though."
"As I said," Terri-Belle replied, getting up out of her chair, "the Atlesians wanted it more badly, and so they took it. That, and they were just better than their opponents."
XxXxX
"I told you Atlas would turn it around," Turnus said.
Juturna blew out of her mouth, making her lips flap a little bit. "Yeah, yeah, you did," she admitted. "You also said it might be cool to see Haven on a winning streak."
"And so it might have been," Camilla murmured, "but fate had it otherwise."
Juturna nodded. "What is it about faunus? They seem to be some of the best fighters in this tournament. That Sun Wukong guy, then this Rainbow Dash—"
"Don't," Camilla said, softly but firmly all the same. "Please, Juturna, do not speak so; it … we are not so different from one another."
Juturna looked at her, eyes wide. "I … yeah. Sorry, I … sorry." She paused for a moment. "Still … great fight, huh?"
"Yes," Camilla murmured. "Yes, it was a very enjoyable match."
XxXxX
"What did I tell you?" Leaf said as she opened up her packet of cigarettes. "I told you they were going to kick ass, didn't I?"
"Yeah, you did," Veil admitted. "And they did."
"Like I said," Leaf added. "Nothing compared to the SDC." She pulled a cigarette out of the packet and stuck it in her mouth."
"Do you have to stink up our place with those?" Veil asked.
"I need one!" Leaf insisted, speaking out of one corner of her mouth. "It's been, like, an hour since I had my last one. Look at me; I'm getting withdrawal symptoms." She held up one trembling hand as she fumbled for her lighter with the other.
"Well, go outside and smoke in the corridor," Veil said.
"If I do that, I might miss the start of the next match," Leaf protested.
"The next match will be between Team Iron of Beacon and Team Bronze of Shade!" Professor Port's voice boomed out of the television. "Beginning in ten minutes!"
Chapter 35 - You're Not So Touch Now You're In Our Town
As Team RSPT exited the battlefield, they were met in the corridor beyond by a large crowd: Rainbow's friends, Scootaloo, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, and Team SAPR.
"That was awesome!" Pinkie cried, pumping her pom poms up and down in the air.
Rainbow grinned. "I couldn't have done it without you cheering me on, Pinkie."
Pinkie's smile squeaked audibly. "C is for Rainbow Dash, right?"
"No," Penny said. "At least, I don't think it is."
"It's a private joke, Penny," Rainbow told her.
Scootaloo pushed forward between the older not-quite-adults, with Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle following a little behind.
"That was amazing, Rainbow Dash!" Scootaloo cried. "The way you were like wuh-wuh-wuh—" She started boxing with the air, throwing out punches with her right hand and her left, jabbing at imaginary foes that only she could see. "Although I kinda thought you might use your guns more."
"It might sound strange, but I can do more damage with my fists," Rainbow said as she knelt down and put a hand on Scootaloo's shoulder. "Plus, it made for a cooler-looking fight, didn't it?"
Scootaloo chuckled. "Yeah, I guess it did. I got some great pictures too, including the one where that other guy is up in the air as you hit him."
Applejack took a step forwards, one hand lightly brushing over Pinkie's shoulder as she advanced on Rainbow Dash. She smiled as she held out one hand, touching the brim of her hat with the other. "Congratulations, Rainbow."
Rainbow kept one hand on Scootaloo's shoulder, even as she reached upwards and outwards to take Applejack's hand with the other. "Thanks."
Applejack nodded. "And you too, Twilight."
Twilight laughed lightly. "I didn't really do anything."
"Yeah, you didn't," Sweetie Belle added. "It was like you weren't even there."
"Twilight didn't get eliminated in any way," Applejack pointed out, "so Ah'm inclined to call that one a win myself; it's not like this is your natural habitat or nothin'."
Rainbow looked behind her, where Twilight stood a little diffidently, hands clasped in front of her.
"How does it feel?" she asked. "Having fought your last fight?"
"Like I maybe should have made it a little more memorable," Twilight suggested. "But mostly relieved." She paused. "Yeah, definitely something like ninety-nine percent relieved. It's over, and done, and I will never volunteer for anything so stupid ever again."
Rainbow grinned. "I'll hold you to that."
"We could be asking you how it feels, darling," Rarity said, "to have upheld the honour of Atlas after a somewhat dismal start to the tournament."
"Not to mention put some pep back into the Atlas crowd," Blake added.
Everyone fell silent for a moment, listening to the roaring of the crowd above them.
"You're not singing anymore!
You're not singing anymore!"
Rainbow laughed. "That … feels pretty good, I have to say."
"As a sensation, it is … far from unpleasant," added Ciel.
"'Far from unpleasant'?" Neon squawked, her voice rising above the members of Team SAPR as she pushed her way through the crowd. "'Far from unpleasant'? Only you could make winning your first match in the Vytal Tournament — and scoring the first win for Atlas into the bargain — sound like going to the dentist's. Can't you just say you're happy and you had fun?"
Ciel glanced away, and downwards slightly at the metallic floor beneath her feet. "I am … proud of myself."
"That's more like it!" Neon shouted, dashing forward the remaining distance between them, briefly trailing a rainbow, until she was close enough to wrap one arm around Ciel's neck and pull her in. "Although, I should warn you, enjoy that warm feeling while it lasts, because I will be outshining you like the sun outshines the moon when it's my turn."
A smile pricked at the corners of Ciel's lips. "I hope so, and look forward to seeing it with my own eyes."
"You should be proud," Ruby said. "Just because it may not seem like the biggest deal compared to some of the stuff that you've done, you should be proud anyway. You too, Penny, that was incredible out there!"
"I, um…" Penny hesitated. "I'm not really sure what I did."
"Well," Pyrrha said. "How did it feel, when you threw off Atalanta's semblance? What was going through your mind, or your soul?"
"I…" Penny paused. "I was enraptured by that marble she threw; I didn't even notice that those skeletons were attacking me—"
"We noticed," Sunset said. "You gave us a bit of a scare there for a second."
"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it."
"We know, Penny, we know," Sunset assured her. "Just … go on, keep answering Pyrrha; I shouldn't have interrupted."
"All right," Penny murmured. "I was looking at the marble, and thinking about how I only wanted to look at it, but then … it was as if I remembered that that wasn't what I wanted to do, or at least, I remembered that I wanted to decide what I wanted to do and not have anybody make that choice for me. And just like that, it was like it didn't affect me anymore, and I could break it."
Pyrrha nodded. "I see."
"What?" Penny asked. "What do you see?"
"Pyrrha," Sunset said, "You're on the verge of being smug, just tell her."
"I'm sorry," Pyrrha said, her cheeks reddening. "I didn't mean to … I think, Penny — in fact, I'm fairly sure — that you have just found your semblance."
Penny gasped. Her green eyes widened. "My … my semblance? You think I've found my semblance?"
"It's difficult to think what else it could be," Pyrrha said.
Penny's eyes widened even further, which Rainbow wouldn't have thought was possible, although she could get why; finding your semblance was kind of a big deal, after all; it … some people held that it told you a little bit about who you were; others said that it only manifested once you already understood yourself well enough that you didn't need it to tell you who you were, you saw yourself reflected in your semblance; other people said that was all nonsense and semblances were halfway to completely random, which was a little bit boring if it was true.
"I found my semblance!" Penny cried. She started leaping up and down. "I found my semblance!"
Ruby laughed for joy as she rushed forward, throwing her arms around Penny as the two of them bounced up and down, locked in embrace. "Congratulations, Penny; we're all so happy for you."
"But…" Penny stopped. "What kind of semblance do I have? I could ignore Atalanta's semblance, but … is that it?"
"Almost certainly not," Ciel said. "Few semblances are that specific."
"If you want to find out what your semblance can and can't do, then you need to try it out," Ruby said. "When I first found my semblance, Yang had me running up and down outside our house all day so that we could work out how fast I could go, how easy it was for me to change direction, that kind of thing; we should do that."
"I'm sure that we all want to see Blake's match," Pyrrha said. "But after that … there isn't another fight that I couldn't miss until Team Auburn versus Team Coffee, and there are four fights between Blake's fight and that, so after this next match is over, why don't we all go back down to Beacon and find somewhere we can explore Penny's new semblance a little?"
"That sounds like a great idea," Penny said. "That is, if you all don't mind."
"It's no trouble," Pyrrha said, smiling.
"We're happy to help you," Ruby added. "Plus, it'll probably be a lot of fun."
"Did I hear that right?" General Ironwood asked. "You've found your semblance?"
"Officer on deck, ten-hut!" Ciel declared, disentangling herself from Neon as they both came to attention, booted feet slamming onto the floor beneath them.
Rainbow stood to attention too, and so did Applejack — and Blake. The others did not, but they did make way for the General, parting like the clouds before him as he walked down the corridor, hands clasped behind his back.
"Uh … yes, yes, sir," Penny said. "At least … we think so. Or other people do, and I trust them."
"No, it makes sense with what you did out there," General Ironwood said. "Congratulations, Penny. And you too, Soleil, Dash; you did well out there."
"Thank you, sir," Rainbow said. "We did our best."
"And your best was good enough," General Ironwood replied. "I know that I shouldn't take these things too seriously, but I'm glad you were able to deliver a win for Atlas."
"It was our pleasure to be of service, sir," Ciel murmured.
The General nodded. "Don't worry, I won't bother you any further; I just wanted you to know that I'm proud of you." He turned his back on Rainbow and Ciel, but looked at Blake. "Belladonna?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Best of luck."
XxXxX
Kali raised the opera glasses to her eyes. "You'll have to forgive me, Councillor," she said, "but I'm afraid that this is a match that I don't want to miss a minute of."
Cadance chuckled. "Of course. Your daughter."
"Yes," Kali said. She was silent a moment. "Councillor — Cadance; do you have any children?"
Cadance thought about the fact that she'd missed her period this month; she hadn't taken a test, or been to a doctor yet. She didn't want to get her hopes up, especially when it was still possible that she was simply late for some reason. And yet, all the same, she couldn't help but wonder. "No," she said. "I don't. Not yet, at least."
Kali looked at her — neither team was yet on the field yet, to say nothing of the match beginning — with a smile on her face. "You're still young, of course."
"That's very kind of you to say."
"But tell me, Cadance," Kali said, "if you had a child of your own, how would you feel about them being forced to sign away their freedom either to a jail or to a military, regardless of their feelings on the matter?"
Cadance looked at her guest. "I would probably take it with less equanimity than you're displaying."
"I suppose that being Blake's mother has prepared me to accept things which I can't change," Kali said. "I couldn't stop her joining the White Fang … why should I be able to stop her joining the Atlesian forces?"
"A decision that Blake is making voluntarily, irrespective of how she first came into our orbit," Cadance pointed out.
"Yes, I know," Kali acknowledged. "I asked Blake why she would want to fight for Atlas, and she told me that I was wrong about them, that the Atlesian military was full of good people."
"Blake's right," Cadance said.
"I know," Kali said. "I spoke to one of them, Rainbow Dash, the leader of Team Rosepetal. I asked her why a faunus would want to fight for Atlas, and she told me, in a few more words, that it was out of a mixture of pride and loyalty. But what she didn't tell me, what perhaps neither of them could tell me, is why those good people whom Blake praised so highly would fight for Atlas and why it would matter to someone like Rainbow Dash whether a place like Atlas thought well of her or not, whether it had any regrets about its decision to give her a chance or not."
"Atlas is not the enemy of the faunus—"
"It was never a friend of the faunus, as I remember," Kali said.
Cadance was silent for a moment. "I'm sure you're right," she said, "but I think … I think that sometimes we fight for the Atlas that exists in our hearts rather than the one that exists in the skies above Solitas."
Kali looked at her.
"Please let me explain," Cadance said. "This isn't a fairytale, nor a dream spun from thin air; this other Atlas, this better Atlas already exists in potential, like a sleeping giant that can only awaken if we will it so. A kingdom that does more good to its friends than it asks from them in return; a kingdom that makes its friends by conferring not receiving favours; a kingdom where all its citizens alike, from the lowest to the highest, take care not only of their private but also contribute all they are able to the public good; a kingdom where we rely upon our hearts and hands, where we live at ease and yet are as ready to face peril as any warriors trained from early youth. A kingdom that is thrown open to the world. A kingdom of harmony."
"Such a city would be the school of Remnant, if it existed."
"It can exist," Cadance insisted. "Its foundations are already laid in Altas if we are only bold enough and good enough to build upon them."
Kali chuckled. "I don't know about Rainbow Dash, but that is surely the kind of idealism that appeals to Blake. She wants to change the world."
Cadance smiled. "If more people believed it could be done, perhaps the world would change."
Kali chuckled. "You remind me that you're almost as young as my daughter and her friends, just as Blake reminds me of her father when we were her age."
"You think that it's inevitable that she'll lose her idealism as she gets older?"
"You don't?"
"I hope not," Cadance said. "It would be better if she could prove you wrong, don't you think?"
Kali considered that. "That … that would be wonderful, you're right. Those students whose impressive display we've just watched, are they friends of yours? Your interest went beyond Atlesian loyalty."
Cadance nodded casually. "Twilight is my sister-in-law — I've known her since she was very young — and Rainbow Dash is a friend of the family. They were both bridesmaids at my wedding."
"Actually, only Rainbow Dash was a bridesmaid," Shining Armor interjected from his place standing guard over his wife. "Twilight was … the best girl, I guess?"
Kali chuckled. "Well, to somebody, I'm sure she is. But in that case, didn't you want to go and congratulate them on their performance?"
"Yes," Cadance admitted. "Very much so, especially after what Rainbow did out there. But, however close we may be, I'm still an Atlesian councillor, and I don't want to make things awkward. So I'll leave them to their friends for now. Shining Armor and I can catch up with them later on." She frowned ever so slightly. "Why do you ask?"
"I was just wondering if Blake would want me down there to congratulate her when she wins," Kali said. "Do you think she would even want me to be watching her now?"
"Would it change anything if you knew for sure that she did?"
Kali paused for just a moment. "No," she conceded. "I wouldn't miss this for all of Remnant."
XxXxX
They had lost their seats as soon as they got up from them, and so it was a bit of a struggle to find enough seats for SAPR, RSPT, the Canterlot girls, and the little sisters to all sit together, with some walking up and down the stairs, and even having to search in different parts of the vast coliseum, before they finally found a row of seats devoid of people and were able to claim them quickly before anyone else realised that, actually, this Beacon team — including but not limited to the Warrior Princess of Menagerie, as they were calling her in Atlas — was going to be a fight worth sticking around to see.
"How do you think they're feeling?" Pyrrha asked as she sat down on the aisle seat.
"If Yang was nervous at all, she wouldn't let on about it," Ruby said. "Nora … pretended to be nervous, but I think she was only kidding around." She smiled. "I mean, it's not like they'd really become social outcasts just because they lost a fight."
"You'd hope not," Jaune muttered. "It wouldn't exactly be very friendly."
"So," Rainbow said, looking at her scroll, "which fights are you guys interested in watching? I mean, Sapphire's fight is the last one of the day—"
"Yeah, that's right," Sunset said. "We've got Team Pastel." It was kind of weird to think that they were going to be going up against Cinder's stepsister, the source of all her pain.
Do you know that's coming, Cinder? And if so, what do you think about it?
And no, no, I am not going to arrange for her to meet an unfortunate accident in the arena.
Although, come to think of it, I don't know if you'd really want me to. You'd probably rather do it yourself.
For myself, I'll settle for beating her.
Her confidence — and she did feel confident — did not dispel the sense in her stomach of how weird it was that things should have fallen out this way.
Rainbow snorted. "You got lucky with that draw; they shouldn't give you much trouble."
"I don't know about that," Sunset replied. "We'll win, but I don't know about that."
"What is Phoebe's team like?" asked Pyrrha.
"As far as I can tell—" Sunset began.
"You can go over that yourselves later," Rainbow said. "For now, I want to work out who's watching what fight. So we're all here for the Iron against Bronze fight and then … Pyrrha, you said you want to watch Team Auburn."
"I do," Pyrrha agreed. "I feel that it would be disrespectful to Arslan not to. Of course, I don't expect anyone else to feel the same way."
"I'll watch it with you," Jaune said. "I mean, we may as well."
"Me too," Sunset added. "I want to check out what she's got."
"I'm not that fussed about that one," Rainbow said, "but after that, we have Team Wisteria against Team Indigo, which I definitely want to see, and I think Blake will as well, and after that, it's Team Tsunami; who wants to see Trixie and Starlight fight?"
"Yep," Twilight said.
"Ah wouldn't mind," said Applejack.
"Yeah, that sounds fun," Apple Bloom said. "Trixie always puts on a show."
"I'd like to see that too," Sunset said. Not just because it would enable her to check out the competition, but also because she felt that she kind of owed them her support after the help they'd been to her at Arcadia Lake.
"Team Funky is fighting second to last, is that not so?" asked Ciel.
Rainbow scrolled down her list. "Yep, that's right. They're up just before Sapphire and Pastel."
Ciel nodded. "I cannot miss that."
"Are there any other matches that people want to watch?" Rainbow asked. "Ruby? Jaune?"
"Um…" Ruby hesitated. "I might watch Team Wisteria, but … no, not apart from that."
"That's a no from me as well," Jaune added. "I might not even bother watching Team Wisteria."
"You don't know what you're missing, but okay," Rainbow said. "Girls, how about you? Any other fights that I haven't mentioned already?"
"I don't think so," Fluttershy said quietly.
"None are particularly coming to mind, darling," Rarity added.
"Then we'll have a lot of time in the afternoon between Team Tsunami and Team Funky's fights if we want to meet up at the fairgrounds and have some fun," Rainbow said.
"Shouldn't it be Twilight doin' the schedulin'?" asked Applejack.
"Hey, this is not scheduling," Rainbow retorted. "If it were scheduling, I would be telling you where in the fairgrounds we were going to go and when, which I'm not; I'm just suggesting something that we could do if we wanted to."
"It might be nice to get to know Blake's teammates a little better, say thanks to 'em," Applejack said. "We don't know much, or any at all, honestly—"
"Do you think that we'll get to meet her mother?" asked Rarity. "Because meeting a queen of sorts would be rather—"
"Settle down, Rarity," Applejack drawled.
"Aha, I mean that it would be wonderful to meet the mother of our good friend, Blake, of course," Rarity said, with a touch of nervous laughter in her voice.
"As I was sayin'," Applejack went on, "we don't know Blake's Beacon teammates; are they any good?"
"And they're going to walk this match," Sunset declared. "I've been studying the other teams, and Team Bronze … it's kind of appropriate they're named that because iron is superior to bronze in every martial respect."
"Are they bad?" asked Rainbow.
"They've got three close quarters specialists and a sniper," Sunset said. "I don't think their close quarters specialists are on a level with Iron's four close quarters specialists, and I don't think their sniper is good enough to make up for it."
"Overconfidence can be a grave weakness," Pyrrha warned.
"The leader of Team Bronze fights with knuckle dusters, the leader of Team Iron fights with sawn-off shotguns strapped to her wrists," Sunset said. "At some point, it stops being overconfidence and becomes plain fact. Watch, and you'll see that I was right about this."
XxXxX
Since Ozpin didn't have a specific job for him to do right now — with all of Team SAPR and Team RSPT up in the coliseum, Ozpin was watching over Amber himself — Qrow had retired to a bar in Vale that he knew called, appropriately enough, Crow Bar. It was a tiny little place on the docks, with an open front and a bar barely big enough for four guys to sit side by side. That was one of the things he liked about it; it was quiet, not the kind of place where a lot of people came and certainly not at this time in the morning.
Of course, the downside of that was that when the barkeep was looking for somebody to shoot the breeze with — he probably thought he was doing his job by being friendly, but couldn't he spot a guy who wanted to drink alone and in silence when he saw one? — there wasn't a whole lot of choice when you were the only guy in the bar.
And so, as the television switched between reminding everyone of the result of the match that had just gone and previewing the match that was about to come, the bartender leaned on the bar opposite him and said, "You know, I'm not sure about all these Atlas types around here, but those kids weren't half bad."
Qrow snorted. Ironwood might think a lot of those four brats, but he was considerably less impressed. "They got lucky."
A decent opposition — by which Qrow meant his memories of Team STRQ in their prime, memories that were still too raw to dwell on for very long but vivid enough to still recall that they had been an unstoppable force of nature when they were together — would have made mincemeat out of them.
Of course, if Summer were still here, she would have told him not to be such a sour jackass to those kids; she might have told him that it was no shame if they wanted to carry a new addition to their group around on their shoulders, if they wanted to have a picnic on the grass, or if they acted like one big happy family.
After all, Team STRQ had been the same once. There was a time when they had all believed their team would last forever.
That was one of the reasons he didn't like to think on those days too much; he didn't know whether Summer's memory was the better angel on his shoulder or whether she was a fool who had died believing in dreams and empty sentiments.
Would you tell Ruby to go for it, or would you tell her to grow up? I wish I knew.
I wish I knew what you'd say to me.
I wish you were still here.
But when had wishing for something ever gotten him anyplace? About as often as believing in one another and standing together as friends had gotten Team STRQ any place.
"You didn't like them?"
"Huh?" Qrow asked.
"The Atlas kids, you didn't like them?"
Qrow shrugged. "You don't like having Atlas in town?"
"I know they say they're here to keep us safe," the barkeep said. "But I don't know; there's an awful lot of them, and I guess things are safe, but … what if they decide not to go home when the danger is passed? I mean, things have gotten a lot calmer lately, but they're still here. Or maybe things are calmer because they're still here, I don't know. Smart people handle all of this stuff; there's probably nothing to worry about … but I can't help but worry, you know."
"Trust me, I know," Qrow muttered.
"But then I see kids like that, and I think, you know, they're not so bad," the barkeep said. "Like I said, I just don't know what to think."
"You're probably not the only one," Qrow said. All over the city, people who don't know what to think, waiting for something to push them one way or the other.
But where's the shove going to come from?
Qrow finished his drink and motioned for another. He wasn't going to find the answer sitting in here … but he would get to watch Yang's fight in relative peace and quiet.
"Turn it up a little bit, will you?" he asked. "I want to hear this next one."
"Sure thing," the barkeep said. "You rooting for the Vale kids?"
"Oh, you bet," Qrow said, not seeing the point in telling the guy that two of those 'Vale kids' were from Mistral and another from Menagerie. He didn't want to talk any more politics, and he didn't want to do any more work; he just wanted to watch his niece kick some ass.
Are you watching this too, Raven? Did you steal someone's TV and a generator, and you're sitting in camp right now watching the festival with a hundred thieving murderers? Or if I went up to the coliseum, would I see a bird perched on the roof looking down?
Whichever it is, I think we're about to see something pretty cool.
XxXxX
Gilda found Ilia in the attic of the safehouse, all alone unless you counted the spiders whom Gilda couldn't see but who no doubt infested all those cobwebs that ran between the slanted roof beams.
Ilia was sitting on an upturned trunk that looked a little dusty and kind of small to sit on, looking at her scroll.
"Are you watching Blake's fight?" Gilda asked as she climbed up the ladder and stood on the chip board that served for a floor, keeping her back bent and her wings tucked in behind her.
Ilia jumped, her whole body turning blue as her head whipped around to look at Gilda. "I … no, I … well, yes, but … I'm only doing it so I can get a look at how she fights now. It's been a while since I saw her in action last. Since we're going to fight her at some point, I need to know how strong she is now."
"Yeah, that sounds fair enough," Gilda muttered. "That's why I watched Rainbow Dash's fight just a little while ago."
The blue colour did not entirely vanish from Ilia's skin, but it did fade a little. She kept her eyes on Gilda and did not take them away.
Gilda, for her part, turned away from Ilia for a second to pull the ladder up after her and shut the attic door with a soft thump.
"Hopefully, that opens from the inside," Gilda remarked. "If not, we'll just have to break through the ceiling."
"What are you doing?" asked Ilia.
"Saving us both from eyes who wouldn't understand the importance of an accurate assessment of enemy capabilities," Gilda said. "Coming up here was a good idea; I should have thought of it myself." She grabbed another of the old trunks that littered the attic and dragged it over to where Ilia was sitting. Then she sat down upon it, wings unfurling ever so slightly so that they came close to touching Ilia's shoulder.
"You don't have to do this," Ilia murmured.
"As the leader of this operation, I think I do," Gilda replied. "It's important that I know what we're up against." She ventured a small smile. "Who knows, it might even be fun."
XxXxX
"Ooh, here she comes! Here she comes!" declared Leaf, bouncing up and down on the sofa just a little bit.
"Down, girl," Veil drawled, a smile playing across her features.
Leaf rolled her eyes. "Well, excuse me for being excited that someone I know, someone who rescued me, is going to be on TV fighting in the biggest deal ever. Clearly, I should be apathetic about this whole thing."
"I didn't say that," Veil insisted. "It is actually pretty cute to see you like this, so cute that I have to make fun of it just a little." She paused. "What's she like, the Warrior Princess?"
Leaf thought about that for a second. "Quiet," she said. "She lets Rainbow Dash do a lot of the talking, or at least she did when I met her. Whether that's because she's the strong, silent type or because she was as new to Atlas as me, I don't really know." She paused. "Two bigshots, two heroes, two people who know councillors and generals, and … and they took time out to help me when I arrived. To help me. I mean … who am I? I'm nothing to them; who does that?" She grinned. "I get the feeling that if they were here, they'd say 'Atlesians do that', but—"
"They're giving this place too much credit," Veil remarked. "They know Councillor Cadenza, right?"
Leaf nodded. "Yeah."
"Yep, she likes to talk about how great this place is, or could be," Veil remarked, "and don't get me wrong, they're good words, but … I don't hardly recognise the place she's talking about sometimes, and sometimes, it feels like the people who live in the place she's talking about aren't hardly human at all. We've got a lot of cool toys up here amongst the clouds, but as people, we're no better than anybody else."
"Except for Blake, and Rainbow Dash," Leaf said.
Veil smiled. "Well, everywhere you go, there are people who stand out above the rest. Maybe Councillor Cadenza spends too much time with them, and that's why she thinks we're all so marvellous." She leaned back on the sofa. "But if your princess friend is as good a fighter as you make her out to be a person, this should be quite a fight. I hope it's as good as the last one."
XxXxX
Blake was standing in the corridor leading out into the arena, cast in shadow by the tunnel ceiling above her, waiting, when she was joined by Yang, Ren, and Nora.
"Here you go," Yang said, handing Blake her weapon. "One Gambol Shroud, as requested." She grinned. "No hot sauce."
Blake snorted. "Thanks," she said as took her weapon from Yang's outstretched hands and slung it across her back, where Gambol Shroud magnetically attached itself to the metal plate on her back. "How are you feeling about all this?"
Yang's eyebrows rose. "Are you asking me if I'm nervous?"
"You," Blake agreed. "Or anyone."
"We're not nervous," Nora said. "What have we got to be nervous about? It's only our entire futures on the line."
"Whatever claims might be made for this tournament, I'm not sure it's quite that important," said Blake.
Nora shrugged. "Maybe not. But if you take it seriously, you won't slip up from not caring."
"We'll be fine," Yang assured them all as she limbered her arms, stretching first one and then the other. "Trust me, we've got this."
"You've been studying the opposition?"
"Nope," Yang replied. "I've been studying us. There may be a team or teams out there who are better than we are, but I know for sure that some Shade team nobody had ever heard of before five minutes ago isn't one of them. I mean, look at us. We may not be the most conventional team of four that has ever walked through the halls of Beacon, but look at what we've got. We've got a thunder goddess who can bench press ten of herself and hit like a truck—"
Nora made a sort of cackling chuckle as she pumped her arms, showing off her guns.
"We've got basically a ninja," Yang went on.
"Well…" Ren murmured, rocking one hand side to side equivocally.
"A warrior princess," Yang said, winking at Blake, "and me, whose awesomeness doesn't need explanation or qualification, right, guys?" She grinned, as she put one hand upon her heart. "So really, what are they going to bring that could make us come out in a sweat? We've got this. We just need to believe in ourselves."
"That's the spirit!" Sun said loudly as he stepped out of a nearby service doorway and into the tunnel. "Just believe in yourselves, and everything will work out fine."
"Oh, hey, Sun," Yang said. "I'd ask what you were doing here, but I think I can guess."
"Well, you know," Sun said, folding his arms, "I was in the neighbourhood, and I thought I'd—woah!"
He attempted to lean nonchalantly against the tunnel wall, arms folded and one foot crossed behind the other with a sort of self-conscious coolness that would, to Blake's mind at least, have prevented him from looking actually cool even if he hadn't misjudged the distance, lost his balance and fell, squawking with alarm, to smack his head against the corridor wall.
Blake winced as she walked between Yang and Nora to reach him. "Are you okay?" she asked as she held out her hand to help him up.
"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine," Sun assured her as he took her hand, although he was rubbing at his forehead with his other hand. "What's aura for, right?"
"True enough, I guess," Blake agreed. "Congratulations, by the way, on your victory. You had a good match out there just a little while ago."
Sun flashed his teeth at her, his smile causing his eyes to light up. "I knew that I heard you cheering for us."
Blake chuckled. "I doubt that very much," she said. "I'm not sure that Sunset or Applejack heard me cheering, and they were sitting right next to me."
"Well, I heard you," Sun said. "Like you were whispering in my ear."
"I'd have to be whispering in your ear for you to hear it," Blake said, amusement in her voice. "But either way, you did well."
He had done rather better as a fighter than as a leader, failing to corral Sage and Scarlet into really following his lead, but it would have been cruel to have pointed that fact out, especially since they had won the match regardless.
"Thanks," Sun said. "You'll hear me, I promise. And not as a whisper in your ear either; you'll be hearing me loud and clear!" He paused. "But not so loud that it gets distracting or anything, because I wouldn't want to throw you off your game, just loud enough that you know that I'm there, or I will be there, up in the stands. I guess, what I'm trying to say is—" He cupped her cheek with one hand, and kissed her. "Knock 'em dead out there."
"Nice way of wishing someone luck," Nora remarked.
Blake felt her cheeks heating up ever so slightly as she took a step backward. "I'll … try not to disappoint you."
This time, Sun managed to lean casually upon the wall, and as she stepped back from him, he waved to her with his tail, which snaked into view from over his shoulder.
Blake smiled, then turned away as the four members of Team YRBN — for now — stepped out of the tunnel and into the arena.
They emerged out of the shadow and into the light to the sound of applause falling upon them like rain.
"Team Iron of Beacon!" Professor Port declared. "Team Bronze of Shade!"
The applause was redoubled at the announcement of their names as the two teams made their way to the central hexagon and squared off against one another.
Brawnz Nii had hair that began dark but turned — first slowly and then all at once — to grey, slicked to the left so that it covered one side of his face while leaving the other mostly bare. His purple eyes were set in a firm face with a square jawline, and his arms bulged somewhat with muscles, easy to view since he was wearing a sleeveless top that started grey and graduated to purple by the time it reached his waist. Bronze kneecaps were strapped around the knees of his black pants, and around his hands he had a pair of fairly thick-looking metal slabs with small claws extending just past his knuckles.
Roy Stallion was a dark-skinned youth, his brown hair worn in dreadlocks combed back behind his head, wearing a green vest over a black t-shirt, with white pants, black fingerless gloves upon his hands, and white vambraces upon his upper arms; those same vambraces also held his weapons, a pair of bronze-looking spinning discs like miniature buzzsaw blades.
Nolan Porfirio had hair of dark red, worn long and untidy, falling down across his forehead and almost obscuring his pink eyes. He wore a white shirt with a black hoodie over the top and then a blue denim vest worn over that, making him look a little bulkier than he probably was. His pants were burgundy and artfully ripped in a way that looked like deliberate choice, not accident. Like his teammate Roy, he wore black fingerless gloves, although unlike him, Nolan had no vambraces, and his only visible weapon was the cattle prod he was holding in his hand, twirling with his fingers.
May Zedong was the only female member of the opposition team, strands of dusky rose hair peeking out from under a black beanie hat pulled down so low that it hid one of her light blue eyes from view completely. She wore a red and white striped jacket and blue tracksuit pants, and a black scarf wrapped around her neck. She had a sniper rifle with a long, slender barrel slung across her back.
As they had done for the RSPT fight, and all the fights before that, the biome selectors rolled for each half of the battlefield, producing a lush thick forest that rose out of the depths of the arena behind Team BRNZ, while the image of a palm tree and a beach presaged the rising, behind Team YRBN, of a scene straight out of a pirate story: the gutted wreck of an old-fashioned sailing ship, a rich blue ocean, and a sandy beach spotted with the occasional palm tree. The ocean predominated, covering most of their half of the arena without much promise of dry feet or sure footing.
"I guess we're going forwards then," Yang declared. She grinned. "The best way to go. Most of the time."
"Three," Professor Port called out. "Two … one … begin!"
Three members of Team BRNZ — Brawnz, Roy, and Nolan — began to charge across the centre of the arena towards Team YRBN; the fourth, May Zedong, broke for the cover of the trees behind them.
"Nora," Yang called, pointing to the gap between Brawnz and Nolan.
"You got it," Nora said, converting Magnhild into its squat grenade launcher form nestled in her arms. The explosive canister traced a pink trail behind it as Nora fired at a low angle towards the three Shade huntsmen.
They split up, Nolan going one way and Brawnz and Roy going the other; the grenade exploded in between them with a bang and a cloud of pink smoke. Two more grenades burst from the mouth of Magnhild to further drive the three Shade students apart.
Yang glanced at Blake and nodded. Without another word, the two of them charged for Nolan, trusting Ren and Nora to handle Brawnz and Roy for at least a moment.
Blake drew Gambol Shroud from across her back as she charged. She reached Nolan first, slashing crosswise and forcing him into a desperate parry with his cattle prod. She pushed forward, using a sequence of shadow clones to leap forward without Nolan being able to see it, much less respond. With every clone she left behind, Blake closed the distance yet further, sending Nolan stumbling further backwards to get away from the swift strokes of her furious blades. As his aura was carved like a joint of ham, he had no chance to do anything but desperately, futilely attempt to defend himself.
A shot landed near her feet, chipping the ground in the centre of the arena. A second shot dispelled the shadow clone that Blake had left in her place as she got out of the way. A glint of light from the trees was the only thing that revealed the presence of May Zedong and her sniper rifle there.
Before Nolan could take advantage of his reprieve, he was forced further back by a pair of blasts from Ember Celica, neither of which hit him but which did make him dance a little as Yang put herself between Blake and Nolan.
"Blake, get the sniper," Yang ordered.
Nolan hit her in that moment of distraction, slamming his cattle prod across her face like a stun baton, following up with hitting her across the side and on the leg before driving his cattle prod into her gut and turning it on. Lightning rippled up and down Yang's whole body, snapping and crackling like a pack of hungry hounds upon the hunt. Yang tensed for a moment, and then her hair began to glow more golden than the sun as smoke started rising from her body.
"Oho, looks like Yang Xiao Long has just activated her semblance," Professor Port said jovially.
Blake ran, ignoring both Doctor Oobleck's explanation of what Yang's semblance was and the sounds of Yang getting to work on Nolan behind her — she sounded as though she was having fun, even if he wasn't — as she ran, back bent and arms swept back behind her, towards the thick forest that covered BRNZ's half of the arena.
The forest where May Zedong was hiding.
Shots flew out of the trees, shots that were a little slower for coming from a different location each time: May was changing her position so that Blake couldn't use the source of the fire to work out where she was. That was a smart move, even if it did mean that she was slower to shoot, but since she was only hitting Blake's shadow clones as Blake bore down upon her, then a higher rate of fire wouldn't have made much difference, as every shot she fired simply dispelled the fake Blake and revealed the actual Blake somewhere different — and closer to May's position.
She couldn't see May, and May was smart enough to keep moving to make herself harder to find in the thick foliage.
Unfortunately for her, Blake had an answer to that particular problem. Gambol Shroud was empty right now, but as she began to slow down, Blake reached into her tailcoat pocket and pulled out a magazine of fire dust rounds, which she loaded as soon as her weapon switched to pistol configuration.
The klaxon blared out loudly behind her.
"Nolan Porfirio has just been eliminated," Doctor Oobleck declared as the cheering from certain sections of the crowd intensified.
Nice going, Yang, Blake thought as she started to run across the front of the forest, firing at random into the tops of the trees with her fire dust rounds, strafing back and forth until she had emptied the entire clip.
Possibly, May thought that she was desperate, firing blindly until she hit something.
She probably realised what Blake was really up to once the trees started to catch fire.
Blake changed Gambol Shroud back from a pistol into its black sword form and watched, still and silent, as all the trees before her began to bloom in shades of gold and crimson like so many candles.
Any second now.
May stumbled out of the blazing forest, coughing a little and rubbing her one visible eye against the smoke that was beginning to rise from the burning trees.
And as she emerged, Blake was on her.
May was unprepared, she had no close combat weapon, and although she tried to parry with her sniper rifle, Blake had landed three slashing strokes upon her before May took her first clumsy swing with the butt of her rifle.
She hit nothing but a shadow clone as Blake appeared behind her, sending her flying forwards with a kick to the small of the back. Blake left a clone behind as she raced forwards, appearing in front of May before she hit the ground, dealing out another kick that sent her flying upwards as Blake followed, leaving clones behind as she rose up one slash with sword or scabbard at a time, as though each motion was a step up a ladder, one, two, three, before the dispelling of her last clone revealed her hovering on top of the helpless May who could only watch, wide-eyed with horror, as Blake brought her foot down on her stomach hard enough to send the Shade student slamming down to earth with a resounding crash.
The klaxon sounded. "May Zedong has just been eliminated," Professor Port said, to even more cheering from the Beacon-supporting section of the crowd.
Blake left her lying on the ground as she headed back to where her teammates were still fighting on the edge of the ocean. Yang was still on fire as she battled against Brawnz Ni, the leader of the opposing team. It wasn't that he wasn't getting any hits in — Yang's aura was in the yellow — it was just that he was also taking hits, and Yang was simply hitting harder than he was, culminating in Yang punching him in the gut so hard that his feet left the ground and following up with a blow down on the top of his head that sent him into the ground and bouncing along it until he reached the very edge of the arena. The klaxon sounded and Doctor Oobleck announced his elimination.
That left only Roy Stallion, who seemed to be sweating a little as he tried to keep out of the way of Nora's hammer while using his discs — they flew and then returned to him — to keep Ren at a distance and constantly dodging.
"Blake," Nora called. "Hit me!"
Blake turned Gambol Shroud to pistol mode and loaded a magazine of lightning dust. "Copy that," she murmured as she snapped off two shots that struck Nora square in the abdomen.
Gasps rang out from the crowd across the arena as Nora was thrown backwards.
"It looks as though Blake Belladonna just fired on one of her own teammates!" Doctor Oobleck cried. "Have we ever seen anything like this in the Vytal Festival before?"
"Perhaps not, Professor—"
"Doctor!"
"—but then, we haven't had a semblance quite like this one in the Vytal Festival before," Professor Port declared as Nora got up, grinning like a fiend as lightning crackled across her body. "You see, Nora Valkyrie's semblance allows her to store the raw power of electricity in her muscles, greatly increasing her strength in the process."
"Wait, wh—?" was as far as Roy Stallion got before Nora was in his face, still grinning as she swung her hammer straight into his gut hard enough to fling him out of the arena and plaster him face-first against the shield protecting the crowd.
"And with that final knockout, Team Iron wins the match."
XxXxX
Qrow allowed himself a triumphant smirk as he put down his glass. "Now that was a match."
But maybe try and do it without getting hit so often next time, huh, Yang? Not all your enemies will give you the chance to come back at them the way those guys did.
It worried him a little bit, that Yang would get so used to taking hits to fuel her semblance that, in the end, when she met someone whose blows she couldn't shrug off, she wouldn't know what to do.
But he was sure Tai had raised her to fight smarter than that. For now, he could take pride in a fight well won.
If only he didn't have to wait until the very end of the day to see Ruby in action too.
XxXxX
"Yes!" Kali cried as she leapt her feet, the opera glasses clattering to the floor as she clasped her hands together. "Great job, Blake!"
Cadance smiled. "She really was very good."
"Her father would be proud," Kali said as she sat back down in her seat. "At least … I hope so."
Cadance pursed her lips together for a moment. "This isn't anything like the kind of life you wanted for her, is it?"
"No," Kali admitted. "But then … if it's the life that she's chosen, then who am I to question it? I didn't…"
Cadance waited for her to finish. "Kali?"
"I was just going to say," Kali murmured, "that if I didn't question her previous choice of life, then how can I question this one? It isn't the life that I, or Ghira, wanted for her, but … she's become a fine young woman, and I'm glad of that … and proud of it too."
"Are you going to go down and see her?" Cadance asked.
"No," Kali said. "Like you, I'll leave her to her friends for now. I'm sure they want to celebrate after that swift victory. Are all the battles ended so quickly?"
"Drawn out fights are rare," Shining Armor said. "But you're right, that was fast."
"Is that because Blake and her teammates are that good or their opponents were that bad?" Kali asked. "Excuse the question; I'm not very experienced when it comes to this sort of thing."
"Team Bronze weren't great," Shining Armour admitted, "but that isn't to say that Team Iron weren't pretty good: tough and coordinated. If they always fight like that, then—"
"Then they'll be able to manage without Blake?" Kali asked.
Shining Armor smiled slightly. "Yes, I think that's fair to say. Blake played her part in this victory, but equally, she'll be able to leave the other three behind without any worries or regrets."
XxXxX
"Well," Gilda said, "Blake certainly hasn't lost her touch."
"No," Ilia said, smiling slightly. "No, she hasn't."
Gilda sighed. Blake and Dashie. We've really got our work cut out for us, haven't we?
XxXxX
"YES!" Leaf shouted. "Now that was incredible, wasn't it?"
Veil nodded. "She was pretty cool."
"Mhmm," Leaf agreed. "There's just one problem."
"'Problem'?" Veil repeated. "What problem?"
"The rest of the day's going to be really boring now until Sunset and Ruby's fight," Leaf said. "There's no one else I want to see."
XxXxX
"That was an amazing fight, Yang!" Ruby cried, trailing rose petals in her wake as she ran towards Team YRBN, catching them just as they exited the arena. "You've gotten so strong."
Yang grinned. "Well, I've got to give the folks something to talk about while they wait around all day for you to show up."
The rest of Team SAPR, Team RSPT, and the rest of Blake's Atlas friends all followed Ruby towards Team YRBN at a slightly slower pace.
"You were pretty good too, Blake," Sunset said. "Neat trick smoking out their sniper like that."
"Not as cool as what you did with the clones," Rainbow said. "But more awesome if you stop and think about it."
"Indeed, you were very impressive," said Rarity.
"If that is the final act of your time at Beacon," Ciel said, "it is, I daresay, a full stop of which you need not feel ashamed.
"C is for Blake!" Pinkie cried, waving her pom-poms in the air.
"Thanks," Blake said. Her smile had a slightly sheepish quality about it. "I just hope that they don't need the forest terrain again."
"Aw, don't worry about a little thing like that, Sugarcube; Ah'm sure they've thought of everything, and it's already taken care of," Applejack declared.
"I'm not even sure they ever re-use the scenery, it's so usual for it to be damaged in the fighting, so there are plenty of replacements for each variant available," Pyrrha said with an undertone of amusement in her voice. "You all did wonderfully well; congratulations."
Ren scratched the back of his head. "I don't think that I added that much to proceedings."
"Oh, don't worry, Ren," Nora said cheerfully. "Just because you didn't get the knockout blow doesn't mean you didn't do anything. That guy would have been too fast for me without you helping me out."
"Hey, Blake!" Sun cried, leaping out of the stands and down to the tunnel mouth to join them, causing the others to scatter a bit so that he wouldn't land on them as he slammed down onto the floor.
"Dude!" Neptune called down from above. "You could have just walked down there to be there to meet her!"
"That wouldn't have looked as cool," Sun protested, before he turned his gaze on Blake. "Although my entrance still didn't look as cool as that win out there." He looked at Yang. "You should seriously consider—"
"No," Blake said. "No, she shouldn't, not when … Nora deserves this more than I do."
"I don't know about 'deserve,'" Nora said, "but I definitely want it more than you do."
"Are you sure?" Sun asked Blake. "Because you'd look really cool out there?"
Blake smiled. "Perhaps I'd rather just look."
Sun chuckled. "Well, if there aren't any other fights you want to look at right now, I thought that maybe we could take a look around the fairgrounds together."
"That sounds great," Blake said. "And we will, later this afternoon. Right now…" — she looked at Penny, who was starting to fidget impatiently, playing with her hands, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet — "we all promised to help Penny work out the limits of her semblance."
"Are you sure that this is alright?" Amber asked. "Shouldn't you be … watching the matches or something?"
She was sitting in Ozpin's office, on a chair that was a few feet across the room from his desk. She didn't want to sit too close to him, after all.
With Team SAPR and Team RSPT and Blake all participating in the tournament, and what was more, with them all watching the matches at the moment, then the question of her security had become a little acute. There was no one present to keep an eye on her unless she wanted to go up to the great flying coliseum above, which she did not wish to do.
Judging by what had happened when she had tried to watch SAPR and YRBN sparring, it probably wasn't a very good idea for her to watch the Vytal Tournament.
Sunset had told her that they would send her a message when they were back down at Beacon, and they could explore the fairgrounds together, although … Amber wouldn't have minded not being with them, since…
Since she wasn't in any danger anymore.
Since she had made a deal with … with Salem.
Or with Salem's agents and servants, anyway.
I have done the right thing. And not just for myself, for Dove, for Sunset and Pyrrha, for Lyra, for Team SAPR and all the rest.
It was a pity that she wouldn't get to see Mistral with Pyrrha and the others, that she wouldn't get to see Atlas with Ciel, but this way, Pyrrha would be alive to see Mistral again, Ciel would be alive to go home to Atlas, and neither of them, none of them, would ever have to live with the danger that came from trying to stand between a Maiden and the powers opposed to them.
She didn't want the people she had met in this brave new world to die for her sake, and all that she had to do to prevent that, and to assure her own security into the bargain, was to give up a crown. A crown. A hollow band of gold.
What was a crown against so many wonders? What was a golden circle against the light of so many stars? Even if it was a relic, it was only one relic. Only one.
However heavy gold might be, it could not weigh against the lives at stake.
It was not so precious.
No, Amber … Amber had no regrets. It might have been nice to know exactly how Bon Bon was going to clear the school so that she could get the relic, but even if it involved the grimm … Amber was certain that they could handle it and protect Vale against the grimm. They seemed so brave, so gallant, and so strong. So long as Salem's hand was not raised against them directly, then they would be fine.
She had no regrets. She was doing the right thing, without doubt.
However, as brave as they were, as noble and as kind, Amber knew that her new friends would be unlikely to see it the same way, and so — as much as she enjoyed their company — she might also have welcome a little separation, a greater space in which she could be sure that her secret would not come out.
She did not, however, welcome it when the alternative was spending time with Ozpin.
She would have been preferred to have been watched by Qrow, who was good at making himself unobtrusive, but instead, Ozpin had asked her — told her, really — to come to his office so that he could … he wanted to spend time with her.
Sunset had not quite encouraged her to go and to forgive him, but Amber had been able to see her thinking it.
I am not you, Sunset, and Ozpin is not the person you were unjustly angry with.
She did not like being here, alone with him. She wanted Dove. She wanted to be somewhere else.
"I … will not say that tournaments have grown stale with repetition," Ozpin replied. "That would be rather harsh upon my students, but though I have obligations towards them, I also have obligations towards you, and I think I am allowed to put them first, upon this one occasion."
The clock ground overhead, the sounds of the gears constant, incessant, and a little disturbing to her ears. She did not like the sound. If she had ever liked the sound of that clock, of those great gears, then she did not remember it.
Though it disturbed her a little less, now, than it had done — it had been a reminder to her that her time was finite, running — but now … soon, she would be free of Ozpin, and she and Dove would have all the time in the world.
"How … how is it going?" Amber asked. "The tournament, I mean."
Ozpin looked at something on his desk. "It is proceeding well enough," he said. "Atlas got off to a bit of a rough start, but Team Rosepetal have scored the first victory for their academy, and I am sure there will be others to follow; General Ironwood has some capable teams coming up in the following matches. Beacon has not been greatly tested yet; Team Iron has just fought Beacon's first battle and won it. Team Jugular is next, and after that, I have high hopes for Team Coffee, although Miss Altan is not an opponent to sneeze at. Haven and Shade have, as yet, little cause to feel dismay; their honours are even with their disappointments."
"I see," Amber murmured. "I'm glad for Team Rosepetal, and … Team Iron is Blake, isn't it?"
"Miss Belladonna is at present a member of Team Iron, yes," Ozpin replied. "Although … come next year, everything will be rather in flux in that regard. Miss Belladonna gone, Miss Polendina here, Mister Bronzewing … there is a part of me that is inclined to have a new Initiation for some of the second years."
"'A new Initiation'?" Amber asked. "What do you mean?"
"That at least some of the students — Miss Polendina, Team Sapphire, what remains of Team Iron and Team Bluebell, would sit Initiation again, separately from the first years, and be reorganised into new four man teams," Ozpin explained. "That way, something closer to even numbers — and with good fortune, a more even balance of skills — could be achieved."
Amber frowned. "But … Team Sapphire serves you, they work for you. If you split them up…"
If you split them up, it would be better for them, but not for you.
"Well, quite," Ozpin murmured. "And besides … while Miss Shimmer has displayed a steadfast loyalty of late, in a manner that has been both surprising and … rather humbling, nevertheless, I think that attempting to split her team apart might try even her patience with my antics. Nevertheless, something will need to be done, about Miss Polendina, about Team Bluebell, about…" He smiled. "I'm sorry, I'm beginning to talk to myself; there is no need to trouble your ears with such things."
"It…" Amber trailed off, stopping herself from saying it was fine because she didn't really want him to continue. She looked down at her lap, which on this occasion was covered by a dark green skirt she was wearing over her trousers. "Do you…?" she began, but did not finish.
"Please," Ozpin said, leaning forwards a little, hands resting upon his desk. "Whatever it is, you may ask it."
Amber hesitated a moment longer, nevertheless, before she said, "Do you care about them? Sunset, Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby? Do they … matter to you?"
Ozpin stared at her for a moment, for more than a moment, for seconds ticking on, marked by that interminable grinding of the clock above, marking the length of time for which he looked at her.
The lines in his face had never looked quite so deep to her before.
His voice, when it came, was hoarse. "I do care," he said, "just as … I do care."
"But you make them fight," Amber said. "You put them in danger."
"They are willing to take the risk," said Ozpin.
"I wasn't," Amber whispered.
Silence fell in the office, broken only by the grinding of that awful clock, inexorably marching on.
"I cared about you too," Ozpin insisted. "I still do."
"You could have taken me away," Amber said, "From…"
"From your mother?" Ozpin asked. "It would have broken her heart."
"It would have kept me from turning into … this," Amber said. "From being … I could have had a life, a Valish life, a life with Dove, a normal life."
Ozpin did not meet her eyes. "I … I am sorry," he said. "I should have … someone must bear the powers of the Fall Maiden, to which you may well ask me why that someone must be you, to which I have no other response but to say … who else?"
"I … I don't know," Amber admitted. She paused a moment. "I don't want…" There is no one I would choose to pass this burden onto, but why does that mean I have to choose it for myself?
"I am sorry," Ozpin repeated. "I … I have not done right by you, and the more I think on it, the more I believe that your mother would have understood … that this was not the life that she would wish for you. It was never my intent to see you attacked, to see you hurt, to see you … until Miss Shimmer came to me with her proposal … I thought I had lost you. It brings me no joy to put you in this position, or to send Miss Shimmer or Miss Nikos out to risk their lives in battle. None of it brings me any joy."
"But you do it anyway."
"I must, Amber," Ozpin insisted. "There is evil aboard in the world that cannot be resisted by General Ironwood's robots; you know that better than most."
Amber shuddered, and one hand rose involuntarily to her face, to the scars that her makeup only partially concealed.
"Someone must fight against that evil," Ozpin went on, "and that fighting is as dangerous as it is necessary."
Amber did not reply to that except to say, "They're all so very brave. Perhaps you should have made one of them your Fall Maiden."
Ozpin did not reply. He would not meet her eyes as he said, "This school is full of brave young men and women."
"That's what the tournament is for, isn't it?" Amber asked. "To show everyone else how brave and how good they are."
"The tournament is the crowning glory of a celebration of peace and unity," Ozpin corrected her, "but yes, it also allows for the brave young men and women to be celebrated, if not necessarily for the deeds they ought to be celebrated for."
Amber hesitated for a moment. "I … thank you, for letting me stay for the festival."
Ozpin looked at her now, and looked almost as though he might smile. "You always wanted to see it," he said.
"Did I?"
"Yes," Ozpin said. "I described it to you, and you thought it sounded … very wonderful."
"Oh," Amber whispered. "I … don't remember that. But Ruby, Pyrrha, the others, they made it sound wonderful too. They made it sound … thank you, for letting me be here for it, with them, for not … sending me away so soon."
"I have yet to make the arrangements for a suitable location," Ozpin said, "but when I do … Team Sapphire cannot protect you forever, you do realise that?"
They won't have to. "I know. I wouldn't want them to, not forever; I wouldn't want to…" I wouldn't want to put them in danger like that. She did not say so, though; it would have sounded too cruel.
And she did not want to be cruel. She didn't like him, she didn't agree with what he'd done, she didn't desire to forgive him, but … she didn't want to be cruel to him. What would have been the point? Soon, she would be free, and away from him forever.
He had no more power to hurt her now, so why be cruel?
"I know that I can't stay," she said. "They're on a different path to me. I wish them … I wish them luck with it. You didn't punish them for going with me to the relic vault, did you?"
"No," Ozpin said. "Although I am still a little surprised you took them there."
"I thought that they should know," Amber said, although in honesty, it was something that she regretted now. It might have been better if they had not known; that way, she could have gotten the relic and gotten out that much easier. She regretted it, but at the time … at the time, with the shadows so long, it had seemed like the right thing to do. "I thought that they should know. Just in case."
Ozpin sighed. "You may be right," he said. "I hope it will not come to that, but you may be right." He paused. "How … how is Mister Bronzewing?"
"Dove?" Amber asked. "Dove's fine, Dove's wonderful, Dove is…" She smiled. "The whole world seems brighter because of my happiness." And because of my safety which I've guaranteed.
"I am glad," Ozpin said softly. "When your mother told me that you believed yourself in love—"
"I was in love," Amber corrected.
"Yes, yes, so it would seem," Ozpin acknowledged, "but at the time, to your mother and I … love at first sight … it seemed a pretty plot for fairytales—"
"A better fairytale than the one you wrote for me," Amber said. She frowned. "I'm sorry, that was—"
"It is quite alright."
"No," Amber said, "no, it isn't, I … I don't hate you," she said. "I don't like you, and I don't forgive you, and I don't…" I don't ever want to see you again. "But I don't hate you."
"But you no longer trust me, as you once did," Ozpin said.
Amber shook her head. "There was a time when time spent with you was the happiest time. When it was what I looked forward to more than … anything. There was a time … there was a time when I thought that you would never hurt me, not ever, but … that time is gone now. And whatever Sunset might think, whatever she might want … I don't think that we can bring it back."
"No," Ozpin murmured. "No, Miss Shimmer … I fear she is very optimistic in that regard. I do not need your trust. Or your love, although … all I need is for you to be safe."
Amber nodded. "I know. And I will be."
Her scroll went off, making Amber jump. She fumbled with the device that was still unfamiliar to her, struggling even to remember how to open it up.
"Let me help you," Ozpin said, getting up from behind his desk and swiftly crossing the room towards her, taking the scroll from her unprotesting hands and doing with ease what Amber herself had abjectly failed at: opening the device.
"Thank you," Amber said quietly. Her voice rose as she went on, "It's from Sunset; she says that I can meet everyone at the amphitheatre … if I want to."
"Do you wish to?" Ozpin asked.
Amber thought for a moment. The fact that they were in the amphitheatre was a little worrying, but on the other hand … they wouldn't be fighting there, not after what had happened last time. They wouldn't do that to her.
And if the alternative was to stay here with Ozpin … it wasn't much of a choice.
"Yes," she said. "I would."
The smile he gave her was a little sad, but it was a smile nonetheless. "Then I'll escort you down," he said.
XxXxX
Penny felt … it was hard to describe how she felt except to say that she felt like skipping.
That was hard, because everywhere was so crowded, but she felt like it nonetheless.
She had found her semblance! She had found her semblance.
She had a semblance, she was…
She was real.
That might sound unfair to people who hadn't found their semblances, and Penny knew that there were people like that even at this school — and people like Jaune who had only found theirs recently — but all the same, there were times when it had seemed like everyone she knew had a really cool semblance that not only made them better people, that not only helped them out in battle, but also, in some way, expressed themselves.
From Rainbow Dash or Ruby being fast enough, Jaune being able to help with anything, Sunset's ability to understand what you were going through, the fact that Blake was so skilled that she was even more untouchable on the battlefield than Pyrrha in some ways, their semblances were not only a part of them but also said something about them as well. And Penny had felt, sometimes, that her not having semblance, not having something that expressed her, that it … that it maybe said something about her.
That it made her a little less real than the people around her.
Until today. Until she found her semblance.
She had a semblance! Admittedly, she wasn't entirely sure what it did or what it said about her, but that was what they were going to find out! And find out they would, because she had a semblance!
They — Penny, Team SAPR, Team RSPT, Blake, Sun, and Rarity, though not the rest of Rainbow Dash's Canterlot friends — made their way across the grounds of Beacon; to the east of the courtyard, and on the grass beside the path leading to the docking pads, everything on the eastern side of the school grounds, had been turned into enormous fairgrounds nestling in the shadows of the Amity Coliseum. There were food stalls in plenty, as well as any number of games to play and rides to ride; there was a ferris wheel, a helter skelter, a hall of mirrors and a carousel. And even outside the fairgrounds, the grounds of Beacon — although not the buildings themselves — were mostly open to the public, and there were plenty of people in the courtyard, on the docking pads waiting for flights up to the coliseum, or just on the grass, enjoying the day. Everywhere you looked was a heaving mass of people, casually dressed or dressed in costumes — Penny spotted a few Pyrrhas, and some Blakes and Rainbow Dashes, and even one or two Sunsets; nobody that she could see was dressed like her — eating, drinking, wandering around, carrying stuffed animals and candy floss and big tubs of popcorn. There was an energy in the air, it was like … good feelings all around.
Or maybe that was just her own good mood.
Either way, the school was crowded, much more crowded than usual; there were places when they could hardly move at all and were stuck in the press waiting for a way forward to appear, queuing up just to take a few forward steps; Penny could only imagine for the moment what it would be like when they actually got into the fairgrounds later on.
For now, just trying to get to the amphitheatre felt slow, and ever slower because people kept stopping Pyrrha, and Rainbow and Blake, for selfies.
Penny admired the way that they dealt with it … well, she admired the way that Pyrrha dealt with it, with grace and a smile and endless patience; it was harder to admire the way Rainbow dealt with it when she was obviously enjoying every second of it, while Blake was equally obviously not enjoying it at all and could barely muster a smile for anyone no matter how many times Rainbow prompted her.
But regardless of how well or not each of them handled it, it was starting to make Penny a little impatient. She wanted to get to the amphitheatre and find out more about her semblance! Why couldn't all these people leave them alone?
"I'm tempted to just leave a clone behind to get the picture taken," Blake muttered.
Rainbow snorted. "You're so flat, I kind of thought that you were doing that already. Would it really kill you to be a little more enthusiastic?"
"It just might," said Blake. "I didn't do this for the fame or the glory."
"And yet, fame and glory finds us nonetheless, whether we would have it so or not," Pyrrha said. "I understand your discomfort, but it isn't the fault of those who look up to you." She glanced behind her at Blake. "At the risk of sounding as though I'm reproaching you, they deserve better than a sullen, painfully obliged response."
"At the risk of sounding as though you're reproaching me?" Blake repeated. "What are you doing if not reproaching me?"
"Well … I'm sorry," Pyrrha said, her voice lowering a little. "It's just … I've always remembered not to take my frustrations out on the fans. It's common courtesy. Whether you sought fame or not, you have done deeds worthy of fame, and that has its consequences. You cannot avoid them, much as you might like to."
"Is it that easy for you?" asked Blake. "To just smile and put all your real feelings aside?"
"I have had a lot of practice," Pyrrha conceded, and hardly sooner had she said that then she spotted a family approaching her through the crowd, and instantly, her face became a pleasant mask. "Oh, hello there!"
Eventually, and it probably wasn't even that long except that Penny really, really wanted to get there, they made it to the amphitheatre, which was physically open, even if it wasn't actually open to the public. They made it inside, and with no need for anyone to change, they went immediately to the main auditorium, where Sunset turned up the lights so that they could actually see what they were doing.
"Thank you all for your help with this," Penny said.
Pyrrha smiled, a more genuine smile than she had offered to anyone who had asked for a selfie or an autograph, and said, "We're happy to help, Penny."
"Although I'm not entirely sure how we can help," Sun added.
"I'm not sure what to do either," Penny said. "I just used my semblance instinctively before. How am I supposed to do it again?"
"I found that pretty easy," Jaune said. "After I'd used it the first time, it just … came to me. Once I knew what my semblance was, once I'd found it or unlocked it or however you want to call it, I could just … use it. I just thought about using my semblance the same way I'd think about opening or closing my hands, and it happened."
"Except that you don't really think about opening or closing your hands, do you?" Ruby said. "You just do it."
"You sort of think about it; otherwise, you wouldn't be able to control it," Sunset said.
"Okay, yes, but you don't think 'I'm going to open my hand,'" Ruby said. "You just want to do something with your hand. And your semblance is the same way, or at least mine is. I want to go fast, and I go fast."
"Yeah," Jaune said, "that's what I was saying to Penny."
"This has gotten a little confusing," Penny said. "Should I think about it or not?"
"Not consciously," Pyrrha said, "except by wanting to use your semblance." She paused. "I'm going to pick you up just a little by your backpack—"
"How are you going to do that, darling?" asked Rarity.
"It's Pyrrha's semblance; keep it to yourself," Rainbow hissed to her.
"Well, naturally, darling, I'm the last person to gossip."
"I think," Pyrrha said, as though the two of them hadn't spoken, "that you should be able to use your semblance to free yourself from mine. Are you ready?"
"Um … I suppose so," Penny said, because she couldn't think of how she could get more ready.
Pyrrha raised her hand, and Penny caught sight of the black outline that surrounded Pyrrha's arm when she used her semblance a moment before she felt an invisible hand close around her, hoisting her up off the floor and into the air.
I want to use my semblance to get out of this.
I want to use my semblance.
I want to get out of this.
Please?
Nothing happened. She was hovering a few feet off the ground in the grip of Pyrrha's semblance, and she couldn't do anything about it.
But I don't want to be up here! I want—
Penny gasped as she felt herself freed from the grip of Polarity, the invisible hand letting go of her as though she were greased, as she dropped back down to the floor, landing on both feet with a solid thump.
"Yes!" Ruby cried. "Great job, Penny."
"It wasn't the best," Penny said. "It took me a little while to remember to feel it, instead of thinking about it."
"Then let's try it again, shall we?" Pyrrha said, and once more, Penny could just about make out the black outline around Pyrrha's brown-gloved hand before she felt the invisible hand close around her, its fingers tightening before Penny was lifted.
But Penny didn't want to be held like this, she wanted to be released, and the moment that she thought of that, she felt that, then the invisible hand released her, and she dropped to the ground again.
"That was faster this time," she said, "wasn't it?"
"It certainly was," Sunset said.
"So your semblance is … nullifying other semblances?" Jaune said.
"Or ignoring them," Twilight said. "When Penny nullified the effect of Atalanta's semblance upon herself, I was still affected by it, and so was Ciel."
"Indeed; I was not freed until Penny destroyed the marble," Ciel added.
"So she can nullify other semblances on herself, then," said Jaune.
"I'm not sure it's that comprehensive," Pyrrha murmured. "Based on what Penny has told us—"
"I think I see where you're going, Pyrrha," Blake said. "Sun, would you mind having a couple of your clones jump Penny?"
Sun blinked. "I mean … Penny, would you mind getting jumped by a couple of my clones?"
Penny thought about that for a second before she shook her head. "I don't mind."
"Well, okay," Sun said as he clapped the palms of his hands together.
His body glowed golden for a moment, and seemed to freeze in place as two … two golden shadows of himself, two Suns made of shining light, two golden and transparent Suns, emerged out of him, on either side of him, breaking on either side of Sun himself as Pyrrha and Ruby and all the rest made way for them.
Penny didn't move as the two of them approached her from the flanks, leaping upon her from both sides; she did nothing as the two clones barrelled into her, although she was surprised by how solid they felt for all that they looked as though they were made of light.
They were so solid that they bore her to the ground, pinned down beneath them.
I want to be free from this, Penny thought. I don't want to be stuck like this.
Unfortunately, 'stuck like this,' she very much remained, the two clones firmly ensconced on top of her.
"Um … I think it's stopped working again," Penny said plaintively from underneath the golden clones.
"No, I think it's working as I thought it might," Pyrrha said.
"Mmm," Blake murmured.
"Does that mean I can stop now?" asked Sun.
"I think so, yes," Blake said. "Thank you."
"No problem," Sun said as his clones disappeared into motes of light, which themselves faded into nothingness after mere moments. "It just cramps me up having to freeze up for a long time."
"You can't move?" Penny asked, as she picked herself up off the floor.
Sun shook his head. "Nope. The clones can move; I can't."
"So you're kind of the opposite of Blake," Penny said.
Sun raised one eyebrow. "Huh, you know, when you put it like that, I guess I kind of am." He grinned. "Pretty cool, right?"
"Not necessarily," Blake said. She smiled out of one corner of her mouth. "But, yes, pretty cool."
"Except," Sun went on, "I don't think I can infuse my clones with dust the way Blake can."
"Have you tried?" asked Twilight.
"No," Sun admitted. "Where would I get the dust?"
"I don't understand," Penny said, bringing the conversation back to herself. "Why I was able to break free from Pyrrha's semblance but not from Sun's?"
"Because Pyrrha's semblance was controlling you in a way that Sun's was not," Ciel murmured. "That was your thinking, Pyrrha, was it not?"
"It was my guess," Pyrrha said, "based on Atalanta's semblance. I thought — and I think I am right — that as you have sought for freedom, so semblances that take away that freedom, you can resist."
Penny frowned. "But weren't Sun's clones taking away my freedom by sitting on me?"
"In a physical sense, yes, I suppose they were," Pyrrha allowed, "but—"
"But," Sunset said, a smile playing across her face, "you have to allow a reflection of your soul to exist and operate in the realm of metaphor and imagery, if anything can. Sun's clones are like … it would be like Rainbow Dash pinning your arms behind your back and forcing you to the ground."
"Why me?" asked Rainbow.
"Because you're made of muscle," Sunset said, "why not you? The point is that it's a different order, a different type of thing than Atalanta making you stare at a marble, or Pyrrha picking you up. Apart from anything else, you could resist physical coercion physically; your semblance gives you the ability to resist strings that would—"
"That would otherwise be unbreakable to you," Pyrrha finished.
"That … makes sense, I think," Penny said, although she had to think in order to get her head around it. It wasn't as simple as 'run really fast' or 'boost aura' or even 'see the future.' But, when she thought about it, it made sense.
And, when she thought about it, she found that it was actually pretty cool.
I'm free, and nobody can take that away from me.
"Of course," Pyrrha went on, "we could really do with another … coercive semblance, one might say, or one which has that potential, in order to test it."
"What are you talking about?" Amber asked as she and Professor Ozpin walked into the auditorium. "What are you doing down here?"
Rainbow Dash and Ciel came to attention.
"Good morning, Professor," Sunset said.
"Hello again, Amber," said Pyrrha.
"Penny found her semblance during her match," Ruby explained. "We've been helping her figure it out."
"Yes, congratulations, Miss Polendina," Professor Ozpin added. "The discovery of a semblance is a milestone in any young huntsman or huntress's life and career."
"Thank you, Professor," Penny murmured. "I'm very grateful to all my friends for helping me with it."
"What kind of semblance is it?" Amber asked, stepping forwards, into the midst of the crowd, slipping in between Pyrrha and Sunset. "What was Pyrrha saying about needing another type of semblance?"
Penny waited for Pyrrha or Sunset or someone to explain, but instead, Pyrrha gestured towards Penny, as if to say that, as it was her semblance, she should explain it.
Penny blinked. "I … we think that … semblances that try to control me, that make me do things that I don't want to do, I can … ignore them, or break them."
"Has your aura level gone down?" Ruby asked.
"I … think so," Penny murmured. She checked her aura on her scroll. "Yes, it has, but I'm still in the green."
Ruby nodded. "So you're spending aura every time you free yourself. Not much, but a little. That's how you do it: you use a little aura and cancel out the semblance."
"The trouble is that we don't have a lot of semblances like that to try it out on to be sure," Blake explained.
Amber swallowed. "I … I've got one," she said. "Sort of. I think it might fit, anyway. I could try it on Penny, and see if it … doesn't work. If you want to."
"What kind of semblance?" asked Penny.
"I call it Enchanted Sleep," Amber said. "It will … put you to sleep, just like it says." She smiled slightly. "Or not, in your case. Everyone should stand back a little bit, or you'll be affected too; it isn't very precise."
Everyone shuffled backwards a little, clearing the space around Amber as though she were diseased, or a social pariah.
"Please," Penny said, "go on."
Amber nodded and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and bowed her head a moment, taking another deep breath.
Then, much as Pyrrha had done, she raised her hand. A glow, an amber-golden glow, began in the centre of her palm, faintly at first and then brighter, a glow enveloping her entire hand but brightest in the centre of her palm.
Motes of golden light began to rise out of Amber's hand, like dandelion fluff or sycamore seeds borne on the wind, little lights floating in the air, rising out of the nothingness, emerging from Amber's palm and wafting through the amphitheatre, blown by no wind, in Penny's direction.
Jaune yawned; Sunset rubbed at her eyes and began to blink rapidly; Ruby's head began to nod, her eyelids drooping; Rainbow also let out a lionlike roar, mouth open wide; Twilight's ears looked as though they were starting to turn red.
Penny found herself taking a step backwards as the motes of light floated through the air towards her, getting closer and closer.
Closer and closer until they began to surround her, floating around her, gathering as more and more golden lights rose from the palm of Amber's hand.
Penny's eyelids felt heavy. They had weights hanging from them; keeping them up and open was a sore trial; she found her limbs growing heavier too, her head drooping, her mind fogging.
But I don't want to go to sleep.
Penny felt a shiver run through her aura as her head snapped upwards, the golden lights around her vanishing as though they had never been to start with.
Amber lowered her hand, the stream of golden motes of light ceasing, as those that she had already conjured ceased to move but hung suspended in the air until they, too, faded from sight.
"It didn't work, did it?" she asked. "Or should I say that your semblance worked."
"Yes," Penny said, and she could not help but beam. "Yes, it worked … it worked perfectly."
"Quite a semblance of your own you've got there, Amber," Sunset muttered as she rubbed at her eyes one last time, her tail swishing from side to side.
"It's not that wonderful," Amber replied. "It takes a while to take effect, and I need to concentrate; that's why … I didn't have time to use it when…"
"Now that Penny has found her semblance," Jaune said, coming to Amber's rescue before she needed to say any more, "it needs a name."
"Hmm," Sunset murmured, cupping her chin with one hand. "How about, No Strings Attached?"
"That's a bit of a mouthful, don't you think?" asked Jaune.
"It's not like Penny needs to say it every time she uses it," Sunset replied.
"Semblance Canceller?" Rainbow mused.
"A little on the nose, darling," Rarity said. "A semblance name should strive to a certain level of poetry, like Diamond in the Rough."
"Unbound?" Pyrrha suggested. "Or Unbound … something, although I admittedly can't think what. Unbound by Any?"
"Freedom," Ruby said. "The name of your semblance is Freedom."
The room fell silent. Eyes turned towards Penny.
Penny kept her own eyes upon Ruby. "Freedom," she murmured, her tongue rolling over the word. "Freedom," she repeated, a smile blossoming upon her face. "Freedom," she said, for the third and last time, nodding approvingly.
As they emerged from the amphitheatre, the sun falling upon their faces once again, they were soon met by the remainder of Rainbow's friends heading their way.
"Hey, you guys!" Pinkie cried, waving enthusiastically. "Did you get everything done?"
"I think so, yeah," Rainbow replied.
"Great!" Pinkie cried. "Then that means we've got time to have some fun in the fairgrounds before Trixie's match, right?"
"Blake and I want to watch Weiss' match," Rainbow said, "but yeah, apart from the details, sure, we've got time."
"Awesome!" Pinkie yelled. "Because I spy with my little eye," — she leaned forwards getting closer to Rainbow Dash as her voice acquired a sing-song cadence — "something beginning with F."
Rainbow blinked. "F … F … fairgrounds?"
"Well, yes, that would be a right answer, but no!" Pinkie cried. "Photo Booth!"
"'Photo Booth' starts with a P, Pinkie," Twilight murmured.
"This one doesn't!" Pinkie declared. "These particular photo booths spell 'photo' with an F, presumably for copyright reasons, but more importantly: you all know what this means, right?"
"Uh … no," Blake murmured. "No, I don't."
Pinkie gasped. "Blake doesn't know about the photo booth!"
"She'll pick it up pretty fast," Rainbow replied, putting an arm around Blake's shoulders and using it to forcefully steer her along. "Lead the way, Pinkie!"
Sun trailed after them, uninvited, but no one objected to his presence.
"'Lead the way'?" Blake repeated. "Lead the way where, where are you taking me?"
"We're going to a photo booth that spells 'photo' with an F, sugarcube," Applejack said. "Pinkie just finished tellin' us so."
"Okay, but why?"
"To take silly group pictures," Fluttershy said, as though it was obvious.
"Hope you've got some good funny faces," Rainbow said.
"I think Blake's normal stern expression would work rather well as a counterpoint," Rarity suggested. "Unless you want to join in more conventionally, of course."
"It's a tradition," Twilight explained. "Every time we go to a fair, we always get silly pictures in the photo booth if they have one. It wouldn't be a fair without it."
"Silly group photos?" Blake repeated. "How old are you people?"
"We're between seventeen and nineteen, but you can deduct ten off that to get our mental age sometimes," Rainbow said as she pulled Blake along as part of the group, all of them following where Pinkie Pie led.
"It's a tradition!" Twilight insisted. "It's something fun to remember that we were all there and what a great time we had."
"Well, when you put it like that…" Blake murmured. "Are you sure that you want to include me in this? Are you sure that you wouldn't—?"
"No, we wouldn't," Rainbow insisted. "You're a part of this group now, and you're going to be in our photos."
"One of us!" Pinkie chanted. "One of us!"
A chuckle escaped Blake's lips. "I … I'm flattered, really."
"Ah don't know about no flatterin' thing," Applejack said, "but with luck, it'll be a little fun."
"I'm sure it…" Blake faltered. "Wait, where are the kids?"
"My sister Maud is taking care of them for just a little bit," Pinkie explained.
At that point, the Atlesian group disappeared into the crowd, the sounds of their voices lost amidst the general hubbub, the sight of them disappearing as people moved back and forth all around them.
"Is it really tradition?" Ruby asked.
"Oh, yeah," Sunset informed her. She folded her arms. "You know … I should probably have some mocking or cutting remark right now, but the truth is … I was always kind of jealous about this stupid thing that they did all the time … and the fact that they had each other to do it with." She turned to the others. "So do you guys want to go and get silly photos?" She paused. "Um, not you, Ciel, I—"
"I am not part of your group, of course," Ciel said. "In any case, I have plans to meet up with Neon and her teammates, so I will leave you to your pleasures. Penny. Amber."
"Perhaps we could meet up again later?" Amber suggested. "After you're finished with your other friends?"
Ciel paused for a moment. "I would like that," she said softly, curtsying briefly to Amber before she, too, set off, her skirt bouncing just a little with her steps, the hem rising and falling in small degrees.
That left the members of Team SAPR, and Penny, and Amber.
Sunset felt a little guilty, watching Ciel go off on her own, but at the same time … it wasn't as though they were close, was it? Possibly, she could have handled things a little better, but Rainbow hadn't felt the need to bring her along, so why should she?
And besides, it would have been patronising to have offered to include her just because she seemed lonely.
And it wasn't as though she didn't have other friends.
Sunset clasped her hands together. "So: group photos, how about it?"
"I'm not really sure what it is," Amber murmured.
"We all cram into a space that's really too small for us and make faces for a camera," Sunset explained, "and that camera takes pictures of us."
"Oh," Amber said. She smiled. "Oh, well, when you put it like that, it sounds rather fun."
"It does, doesn't it?" Penny added, clapping her hands together eagerly.
"It will certainly be a novel experience," Pyrrha said softly.
"Really?" Jaune asked.
Pyrrha glanced at him. "You've done this before?"
"Yeah, when I was a kid with my sisters," Jaune said. "Okay, now we have to do this."
"Why not, right?" Ruby asked. "Come on, let's go."
"If we can find the place," Sunset said. "In hindsight, we probably should have been quicker off the mark in following Pinkie and the others."
Nevertheless, she had seen the direction in which Pinkie had been leading them, and so, the six of them set off in that same direction, moving as fast as they could through the crowds that pressed so thickly all around them, plotting a course through the clumps of friends, the family groups, the big and bulky mobility aids on chairs or spider-like legs who moved brief distances, then stopped as the crowd closed in around them and made it impossible to move forward. As Sunset pushed on, trying to see over the heads of the crowd, looking up at the signs for this or that fairground stall, she felt a hand grasp hers tightly.
As Sunset looked back, she saw that it was Amber's hand.
"I … I'd rather not lose you," Amber explained apologetically. She glanced left and then right, at the people pressing close all around, and Sunset felt her hand trembling even as she could see her whole body moving thus. "I didn't realise there were going to be quite so many people here. I … I'd rather not get lost."
That was no idle worry. Looking behind her Sunset could see — or perhaps it was better to say that she could not see — that they had lost both Ruby and Penny, and it was only the tallness of Pyrrha and Jaune that meant she could still see them, the gleam of Pyrrha's circlet beneath her red hair and Jaune's blond mop giving them away.
Sunset smiled as she closed her fingers around Amber's hand. "It's okay," she said. "We don't have to do this, you know. We can go back to the dorm room for a bit, maybe—"
"No, no, I want to have some fun," Amber insisted. "I just … I didn't realise that fun came with so many other people around."
"It's an unfortunate hazard," Sunset murmured. "Hey, Ruby! Penny! Where are you?"
"We're here," came Penny's voice in reply, although it was yet unmatched by any sign of Penny's face, or any other part of Penny for that matter. "We're here, we just—" Penny squeezed through a momentary gap in the crowd, leading Ruby by the sleeve. "And here we are!"
"And so are we," Pyrrha announced, as she and Jaune rejoined them also. "I hadn't thought it was possible, but this may be even more crowded than FightFan Expo. Or perhaps I simply didn't notice because I wasn't really part of the crowd." She took a look around. "To be frank, I think that these fairgrounds and the arena could both do with some stewards."
"We've got the Atlesian troops and robots for security," Ruby pointed out.
"Yes, but can you ask a robot for directions?" Pyrrha replied. "Would you want to approach an Atlesian soldier if … if you had a problem?"
"I suppose it would depend on your problem," Penny said.
"Yes," Pyrrha said. "Yes, I think you're right about that, Penny."
Amber looked away, her head snapping around to the right. "Do you hear that?" she asked.
Sunset's brow furrowed. "Hear what?"
"A child," Amber said. "I can hear a child crying. It's this way." She began to pull on Sunset's hand as she sought to lead the way, pushing into the swirling, bustling crowds. "Excuse me? Excuse me, thank you; can we just get through? Thank you very much."
Sunset couldn't hear what Amber heard, but she didn't let go of Amber's hand; she allowed herself to be pulled along as Amber now led the way, let the others follow after without prompting.
She couldn't hear … wait. Wait, she could hear something; it wasn't exactly easy to make out with so many other sounds, but she could hear something that might be a child crying. She marvelled that Amber had been able to make it out so clearly.
Nevertheless, Amber had heard right; as Sunset followed her through the crowd, she could see the crying child now: a little boy in a sailor suit with blond curls surrounding a chubby face which had not yet escaped its baby fat. Cheeks and eyes alike were red from weeping as sniffling sounds escaped from his trembling lips.
"Oh no," Amber cried as she swooped down to kneel beside him. She smiled slightly, in a manner which offered encouragement without seeming to make light of the boy's present troubles. "What's the matter, little man? Why are you crying?"
The little boy shuffled his feet a little bit. "M-mummy says not to talk to strangers," he mumbled.
"I'm sure that's very good advice," Amber said, her voice calm, soft, with a slightly breathless intonation that made Sunset think of lullabies and bedtime stories. She leaned a little closer to him as the others caught up with them. "My name is Amber Briarrose, and these are my friends, Sunset Shimmer, Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune Arc, Ruby Rose, and Penny Polendina. You might have seen Penny fight earlier today, did you?"
The little boy looked up at Penny.
Penny waved. "Salutations."
The little boy nodded. "I remember. You were on the screen."
"There," Amber said. "You see? We're not strangers anymore. So you can tell us what's wrong, and maybe we can help you?"
The little boy hesitated a second, and then another. "Mummy was talking to someone, and I got really bored, and then I let go of my balloon by accident, and then I chased it, but I couldn't catch it, and then when I looked around, I couldn't see Mummy anymore, and I don't know where she is!" His lip trembled, and then a wordless wail passed between them.
"Oh, dear," Amber murmured. "Now, now, don't cry. It will be alright." She looked up at the others. "Does anybody have a pocket handkerchief? And could I borrow it?"
"Here," Sunset said, pulling one out of her pants pocket.
"Thank you," Amber said, taking the handkerchief and beginning to wipe away the tears from the boy's face with it. "Don't cry. Don't cry. My friends and I are going to help you find your way back to your mother."
"We are?" Penny asked.
"Well, we can't just leave him here, can we?" Amber replied.
"No, no, we can't," Ruby agreed. "Although … I'm not sure what we ought to do to actually help."
"Some stewards would be of great help in this situation," Pyrrha murmured.
"We have fought our way through Mountain Glenn twice; I am sure that reuniting mother and child is not beyond our wit and talents," Sunset declared. "That said…" She joined Amber in kneeling down in front of the child. "What's your mother's name, kiddo? What's your name, for that matter?"
"I'm Hans."
"Nice to meet you, Hans," Sunset said. "What's your mom's name?"
"Mummy."
"Right," Sunset muttered. "Of course it is." She paused for a moment, looking around at her friends and teammates for some ideas.
"You'd think there'd be some rules for this sort of thing," Jaune observed.
"Maybe we're supposed to figure it out for ourselves," Ruby suggested. "It's like a test from Professor Ozpin. I mean, Sunset's right; we should be able to figure this stuff out."
"Kind of rough on Hans there," Jaune said. "I mean, he never asked to be part of any test."
"Jaune, let's focus, okay?" Sunset asked in a tone that was almost imploring. She stood up, and cupped her hands together to shout through them like a bullhorn. "Has anyone lost a little boy named Hans? Has anyone got a son, Hans, that they can't find? Because we've got him here!"
Nobody answered. Nobody even seemed to notice, except for a few people who looked at Sunset as though she was acting in some way strangely. Otherwise, the hustle and bustle of the fairgrounds continued on as normal, men and women and children heading this way and that, squeezing past one another, swirling in crowds, moving according to routes and conventions no less real for being unmarked and unspoken.
"Why don't we go and look for your mother?" Pyrrha suggested, and now it was her turn to get down on the ground, her knees bending so far that you could see the boot underneath her greaves and cuisses as they came away from one another. "I'll lift you up above the crowd, and if you see her, then you can shout to her — and to us."
"That sounds like a very good idea," Amber said.
Hans hesitated. "Mummy says I'm not supposed to go with strangers either."
"Well, you've already talked to them, so what's one more step?" asked Sunset.
"Sunset," Pyrrha said reproachfully.
"I understand," Amber said. She reached out and brushed her fingertips against Hans' chubby cheek. "There are a lot of people out there who are scary and dangerous, and it's good that your mother wants to keep you safe and away from them all." The smile returned to her face. "But my friends are some of the nicest people in the whole world, and I promise that you'll be perfectly safe with them."
Sunset felt her cheeks heat up a little bit and saw that sensation mirrored in the blush colouring Pyrrha's face.
"Okay," Hans said. "Thank you."
"All part of what it means to be a huntress," Pyrrha said as she picked Hans up and placed him on her shoulders, holding onto his little legs with both hands. "Now, hold onto my hair and don't let go."
Hans dug his little fingers into her hair, clinging onto Pyrrha as though she were a horse, and as Pyrrha rose, she lifted him up into the air until he was higher than Sunset, higher than Jaune even; he was set higher and loftier than all of them.
"Do you remember where your mom was when you ran off?" Ruby asked. "Because that might be a good place to start."
"Do you think she'll still be there?" asked Penny.
"No, she'll be looking for her son," Ruby said, "but she'll have started there and probably won't have gone very far."
"It was…" Hans started, and then trailed off. "I don't remember."
"Never mind," Amber consoled. "We'll make do. Just keep looking and don't be afraid to say anything."
With the added height advantage that being sat on Pyrrha's shoulders gave him, the crowd no longer presented much of an obstacle to Hans, and as they worked their way through the crowd, it didn't take him long to … well, the first time turned out to be someone whose hair made her look like his mom from the back, but the second time, it actually was his mother, who was effusively grateful to them for reuniting her with her boy.
"Thank you all, thank you so much," she said.
"Yes, thank you," Hans added.
"Not another word!" the woman snapped, as — carrying him — she turned away. "What were you thinking, running off like that? I should take you straight home this instant!"
"But Mummy—"
"Don't you 'but Mummy' me, young man!"
Sunset snorted as she folded her arms. "Another successful mission."
"It actually is, kind of," Penny said. "You know that in Atlas, one of the missions available to huntsmen is to escort children to school?"
"Seriously?" Ruby asked. "Like … to school-school? Not to combat school, or—"
"No, these are … I don't know how small exactly, but they're very small children," Penny said. "And it's not a rare occurrence either, I think they hire a huntsman to do it every day."
"Have you done it?" asked Ruby.
"Oh, no, of course not," Penny said. "That's a job for qualified huntsmen."
"Is this one of those things where the parents have more money than they know what to do with?" suggested Sunset. "So they're hiring a huntsman to walk their children to school?"
"I don't think they have too much money in Mantle," Penny replied.
"In Mantle?" Sunset repeated. "That is … in Mantle, really?"
"They probably just want their kids to be safe," Jaune said.
"Safe from what?" Sunset asked.
"Bad drivers?" suggested Jaune. "Anyway, I bet if you look at the job board here in Vale or in Mistral, you'll find the exact same thing. Atlas isn't that different from everywhere else. People love their kids and want them to be safe everywhere. It just … I don't know, the word hasn't gotten around like it seems to have in Atlas."
"Leaving all of that aside," Sunset said, "how did you hear that little boy? I've got four ears, and I couldn't say that I heard him."
Amber shrugged. "Maybe … your four ears aren't very good?" she suggested, smiling slightly.
Sunset's eyebrows rose unamusedly.
"I don't know," Amber said. "I just … I heard him, I … I heard him. I can't explain why I could hear him when you couldn't, but to me, it was as clear as a bell."
"For which I am sure he is very grateful," Pyrrha said.
"Maybe not when his mom gets through with him," Ruby muttered.
"Amber!" the shout from Dove interrupted them before anyone could say anything else; he emerged sideways from out of the crowd. "I didn't realise you were finished with Professor Ozpin."
"Yes, for a little while, I'm sorry," Amber said, taking a step forward to kiss Dove on the cheek. "I just got a little caught up in things. But now you're here, you can come with us to take photographs. Can't he?" she asked, looking at Sunset.
"Unless anyone has any objections," Sunset said, because there were very few grounds to exclude Dove without also excluding Amber, and Sunset had no desire to be seen as churlish in what was, after all, supposed to be a bit of fun.
And Dove … was a pretty decent guy, wasn't he, really? Amber loved him, and he seemed reasonably worthy of her love. Why not let him be in their photos, if Amber was? In days to come, when he and Amber both had disappeared off into hiding, they might look back at their photographs and their memories and miss him as much as they missed her.
"It's fine by me," said Ruby.
And so, no one else having any objections either, and nobody having changed their minds upon the subject, they resumed their journey towards the photo booth that couldn't spell. Amber took Sunset's hand once more, even as she held Dove's hand with her other, and thus, they made their way through the crowds until they came to the booth that spelled 'photo' with an F. As in, the only name that they could come up with for a photo booth was 'Photo Booth', which then had to changed to 'Foto Booth'.
For copyright reasons.
Regardless, there were two booths, both of them rather flimsy-looking cubicles with walls that looked barely thicker than cardboard and beige curtains covering the entrances, but both of them looking reassuringly like they could fit a decent number of people. Sun was loitering outside of one of them, his tail twitching back and forth.
"Hey, Sun," Ruby said. "Whatcha doin' out there?"
"Wouldn't they let you in with the rest of them?" asked Sunset.
"It wouldn't have been right," Sun replied. "I mean, the rest of them don't really know me, and I'd only get in the way. But Blake and I are going to get our own pictures later, so it's all good."
"Maybe I should—" Dove began.
"It's fine, Dove, you're fine; if it wasn't, we would have told you so by now," Sunset assured him. To Sun, she said, "I'm a little surprised they're still in there, to be honest."
From inside one of the photo booths, there came a shrieking sound that sounded like a mingling of Twilight, Pinkie, and Fluttershy's voices, followed by a succession of solid thumps.
"I think they're finding it a bit of a tight squeeze in there," Sun said.
"Will we be alright?" asked Penny, sounding a trifle anxious.
"Yeah," Sunset said. "Yeah, we'll be fine."
"Well," Pyrrha murmured, gently placing a hand on Amber's shoulder.
Ah, right, yes. Sunset felt a twinge of shame for having forgotten. "If you'd rather go somewhere else, then there is a lot of other things that we can enjoy while we're—"
"I'd like to try this," Amber said. "I … I don't know if … once we get inside, I'll let you know if I can manage. I…" She smiled. "I'd like something to remember you all by, too."
Sunset nodded. "Alright then," she said. "Let's get in there before someone snatches the booth out from under us.
One of the minor benefits of being Vytal Festival contestants was that the fairground activities — although not the food — were free, presumably on the grounds that there wouldn't be all of this hoopla without them, or perhaps taking pity on the students who might not have very much money. Either way, all Sunset had to do was hold up her scroll to a little reader beside the curtained-off entrance to the booth, and a beeping sound and the flash of a green light provided her cue to go on in.
The back wall of the booth was a sort of turquoise, slightly heavier on the green than the blue, and sat in the middle of the booth was something that resembled a table more than a bench, with more space at the back than would be required for someone to sit on it, even sitting all the way back with their knees on the wood.
Ruby, Penny, Amber, and Dove sat down at the front, while Sunset, Pyrrha, and Jaune knelt down on their knees behind them, not set too high above the others while still being visible over their heads. As they took their places, they could hear the voices of the Atlesians in the next booth.
"Okay," Twilight said, "Pinkie, get down from the ceiling for a second; Applejack, you and Rarity—"
"Should one of us be on the ceiling?" asked Penny.
"I wouldn't advise it, since none of us are Pinkie Pie," Sunset said. "Just … everyone do something fun."
"Can … can we do something sweet, first?" asked Amber tentatively. "I … I want to remember this."
There was a moment of silence as Pyrrha snaked her arms around Jaune and Sunset's shoulders. "I think that we can manage something sweet," she said.
Both Sunset and Jaune reached up and placed a hand on top of one of Pyrrha's; Penny tried to put her arm around Ruby but succeeded in getting her in a headlock instead, although Ruby didn't look too discomfited by it and joined Penny in giving a peace sign to the camera.
Amber leaned on Penny's shoulder, even as she reached out and took Dove's hand — both of his hands, in fact, the two enfolding hers; she blinked rapidly, almost as though she were trying to blink back tears.
"Amber," Sunset murmured. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes," Amber said quickly. "Yes, everything's fine, I just … I wish … I'm really very happy right now."
There was a bright flash of light as the first picture was taken.
"Aww," Ruby said. "We're happy too, Amber."
"Yep," Sunset said. She paused for a moment. "Hey, Pyrrha, I'm sorry about this."
"Sorry about wah!" Pyrrha cried, as Sunset grabbed her by the arm and the sash and, arms straining, pitched her forwards, half-tossing her into Penny and Ruby.
There was a bright flash of light as the image froze on Pyrrha, arms flailing, face a mask of surprise, while Penny and Ruby were thrown forwards, Jaune was caught by an errant kick from Pyrrha's boots, and Dove pulled Amber out of the way.
Pyrrha, Penny, and Ruby landed in a heap on the floor in front of the table. Pyrrha, her hair looking slightly more frazzled than it had been a moment earlier, sat up and gave Sunset something of a glare with her green eyes.
"Was that really necessary?" she asked.
"Not necessary, no," Sunset allowed. With one hand she gestured to the screen. "But worthwhile, I hope you will agree."
Pyrrha's mouth twisted into something like a pout as she glanced towards the screen, which yet preserved the image of herself in her astonishment.
"Startlement can be amusing, I suppose," she allowed, before she held out her hand towards Sunset.
Sunset just had time to notice the black outline around her glove before she was hoisted into the air by her cuirass, gripped in an invisible hand which, unlike Penny, she had not the power to get out of.
The camera captured her in mid-flight, suspended like a flying character in a play as though the Atlesians in the next booth were hauling her up with wires.
The next shot captured Sunset falling as Pyrrha dropped her down onto the wooden table.
The next shot after that captured Sunset's laughter.
She gave a thumbs-up to Pyrrha. "Perfect."
Pyrrha's eyebrows rose. "Really? I … I'm happy to oblige."
Sunset rolled onto her side, propping up her head on her elbow as she offered a sultry look, or at least what she imagined a sultry look, straight to the camera.
Her face was hidden behind that of Penny as she popped up in front of her.
"Oh," Penny said. "Sorry, Sunset."
"Don't worry, Penny," Sunset said, ruffling Penny's hair with one hand. "That was perfect too."
After that, smaller numbers of the group took the booth for themselves for a picture or two: Jaune and Pyrrha made a heart with their hands; Sunset and Pyrrha stood back to back; Amber and Dove spent so long in there together that Sunset got a little worried, only to pull back the curtain and find them making out alone; Penny had a photo with Ruby, then Pyrrha, then Sunset each in turn.
Once they had all the pictures they wanted — and possibly more pictures of Amber and Dove kissing than anyone but them needed — Ruby's stomach began to growl.
"Good point," Sunset said. "We should look for something to eat."
That proved to be easier said than done. Well, to be fair, finding somewhere selling food was quite easy; there were lots of places across the fairgrounds that were selling anything from noodles to burgers to waffles to macaroni, and while a lot of options tended towards the meaty, it would have been unfair to say that there was nothing for the palates of Sunset or Amber. No, the issue was not availability, rather a combination of queuing up — there were long lines everywhere — and seats, or the lack thereof.
The large crowds that made navigating the fairgrounds a tricky prospect meant that the designated seating area in the southeast corner of the fairground was completely full up, every seat sat on, every table surrounded by faces of all ages, and people without seats surrounding the area like predators watching the herds, pacing back and forth as they waited for seats and tables to become available. No sooner did one group rise than someone would snatch up the table in an instant, with barely seconds passing without chairs occupied.
"That doesn't bode well," Jaune murmured.
They wandered up to Benni Haven's, only to find the situation was no better there, every single one of the tables and chairs that she had put outside being now taken up and people obviously waiting for them to become vacant.
Sunset sighed. "How do we feel about grabbing take-out and … taking it back to our room?"
"Do we have any other options?" asked Ruby.
"There's the rooftop," Jaune suggested. "The view is better from up there than from the dorm room."
Sunset considered that. "You've got a point about that. Any objections?"
Amber shook her head. "That sounds fine."
So they picked up something — noodles, with various additions or none at all, served by an old guy with a strangely familiar face — and made the short trek up the various staircases of the dorm room, feeling the heat of the cardboard noodle boxes in their hands, until Sunset opened the door and led the way out onto the rooftop.
Only when she got there did she find that Team WWSR had beaten them to it.
Cardin was squatting on one of the pipes that ran along the back wall, Russel was sat cross-legged on the roof itself nearby, Flash was leaning against the wall on the other side of the door, while Weiss had made a makeshift chair for herself out of a pale white glyph and was sitting on it suspended about level with Flash's face, her legs dangling.
"Oh," Sunset murmured. "I didn't expect to find you guys here."
"In spite of the fact that many people seem to have difficulty remembering this, this is the rooftop above our dorm room," Weiss replied, a touch of asperity entering her voice. "We have as much right to be here as anyone, and more than most." She paused a moment. "That being said, there's plenty of room if you'd like to join us."
"Are you sure?" asked Ruby, peeking around Sunset. "We don't want to disturb you."
"It's fine," Weiss assured them. "There's nothing that we need our privacy for."
"Thank you," Sunset murmured as she walked forward, sidling around Weiss and her glyph and approaching the edge of the roof, the others following on behind her.
"Yes, thank you, Weiss," Penny said. "It's very kind of you."
"No, it isn't," Weiss said. "But at the same time … I appreciate the compliment, today of all days."
Sunset frowned, wondering just what she meant by that and wondering whether Weiss would appreciate being asked. Instead, turning to face Weiss and the rest of Team WWSR, she said, "So, you guys couldn't find anywhere to sit and eat either?"
"You could say that," Weiss murmured.
"Yeah, you could say that," Russel said, almost smirking. "You could also say that we're hiding."
"'Hiding'?" Jaune repeated. "Hiding from what?"
Russel's eyebrows climbed so high that it was only his lack of hair that prevented them from disappearing out of sight. "Really, mate? Really?"
Jaune looked at Weiss. "Oh! Oh, yeah, right."
"What is it?" asked Amber.
"It doesn't matter," Sunset told her.
"My father … became rather embarrassed recently," Weiss explained. "Some of his employees turned out to have been behaving poorly, and he was blamed for it. And, as his daughter, I have been blamed by some also. Hence we dine on the rooftop, which is out of bounds to visitors."
"But … everyone will see you once the match starts," Penny pointed out. "Won't they?"
"One would hope so," Weiss murmured, "but when the match starts, I will be able to defend myself, in a sense at least; I will let my actions speak for me, in ways that words never could."
Penny blinked. "But nothing that you can do in the tournament will make any difference to anything about your father, or the Schnee Dust Company," she said. "I … I don't understand."
"You understand well enough, I think," Weiss said. "I cannot hope to launder the reputation of my father or his company by my victories, by the victories I hope to win, but if I can win some glory for myself, then there may be those who will be able to overlook the name I could not choose in favour of the deeds they have seen me do."
"Glory in arms wipes away many sins," Pyrrha murmured. "Especially those sins that were not of one's own choosing."
"It isn't only Weiss who could do with that," Cardin muttered. "We could all use a little sprinkling of tournament glory to season our reputations right now."
"Speak for yourself," Russel said. "Nobody thinks anything bad about me except because I'm associated with you three racists."
"Russel," Weiss said. "Don't."
"I was only joking."
"And it wasn't funny," Weiss said. "Don't."
"Unfortunately," Flash said, "he's not exactly wrong."
"Weiss, I can understand for all that it isn't right," Sunset said, "but the Cardin stuff? Water under the bridge at this point, surely?"
Cardin shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. The point is, it would be nice to have something to point to instead of that when people talk about this team."
"Indeed," Weiss murmured. "This team does not enjoy the exalted reputation of Team Sapphire; we will not walk into the arena trailing clouds of glory in our wake. We…" She trailed off, and fell silent. "Do any of you ever think about the road not taken?"
Pyrrha took a step to one side. "How do you mean?"
"I mean," Weiss said, and then fell momentarily silent as she chewed upon some fries. Only after she had swallowed did she resume speaking, "I mean, think back to Initiation—"
"That seems a really long time ago," Ruby said.
"Indeed," Weiss murmured. "Indeed. So much has happened since then, and yet … when we look back, we can recall our plans, yes? Those of us who had plans, who knew which partners we wanted, and perhaps what teams?" She looked at Pyrrha. "I suppose it will come as no surprise to you to learn that I was set on you being my partner, Pyrrha."
Pyrrha smiled slightly. "Yes, I rather gathered that."
"And I still maintain that we would have made a very good team," Weiss said. "But, at the same time, I am glad that I have not soiled your reputation by association with my … current troubles. You deserve … you don't deserve that."
"Perhaps more to the point," Pyrrha replied, "I think you'd have to concede that we have both been very fortunate in the partners that fate chose for us."
"'Fate'?" Ruby said. "We found Jaune pinned to a tree with your weapon."
The eyes of Team WWSR — and Penny, to whom all this was also new — turned to Pyrrha.
Pyrrha's face began to redden somewhat. "Well … my sense of destiny allows me a degree of freedom of choice. I am neither bound nor wholly beholden to random acts of chance."
Cardin snorted. "You should try that excuse next time you get caught cheating."
"Pyrrha doesn't cheat," Sunset said.
"Except in matters of the heart, it would seem," Weiss said softly, a smile playing across her pale lips.
Pyrrha's face remained as red as it had been before. "I … it all worked out well in the end, did it not?"
"Oh, I'm not judging you," Weiss assured her. "You knew what you wanted, and you pursued it; who can fault you for that? However, it does make speculating on what might have been a little pointless."
"It's pointless because there is so much that could have changed, so many decisions, so many chances that we had to do things differently," Sunset said, "that trying to work out what might have happened is … anything might have happened."
And, in some cases, if you wonder too hard, then you might not like the answer that looks back at you.
"Sometimes," Ruby murmured. "Sometimes, it's better not to know, not to think about it, just … accept what is. Sometimes … sometimes, it's better that way."
Sunset raised one eyebrow. Something we agree on; that's surprising enough, but if we agree for the same reasons, I'll be very surprised indeed.
Weiss sighed. "You're both right, of course. All we can really do is face the world and the future that lies before us. Still … I would have said that there was a certain irony in the fact that I wanted to be Pyrrha's partner, Jaune wanted to be my partner, and in the end, we neither got the partner that we wanted, but … well, once I found out that Pyrrha had arranged everything—"
"I did nothing of the sort," Pyrrha insisted.
"No, no, you simply…" Weiss paused. "I suppose I simply wondered, because, as I was about to say, Team Wisteria does not enjoy the sort of reputation that Team Sapphire possesses, if you and I had been partners, then we would share a reputation, for good or ill, but as it is … nothing comes before us into the arena, I fear, but the odium of our unfortunate connections, the slanders that we do not deserve but have built up around us nonetheless by association. That … it's not good, obviously, but at the same time … if there is anywhere we can give good account of ourselves and win a positive reputation in our own right, unconnected to our names, our pasts, what nonsense we've become associated with … if there is anywhere, then it is the Amity Colosseum, no? Here, we may show that we are more than names."
"If we wish," Pyrrha said.
Weiss nodded her head, conceding the point. "Yes, if we wish."
Pyrrha smiled. "You are confident, then?" she asked. "I daresay you would not speak so if you did not believe that you could win at least the first round."
"Team Indigo aren't that tough," Cardin said.
"You shouldn't be overconfident," Dove warned.
"I'm not overconfident," Cardin replied. "They're the ones who are probably overconfident because, like Weiss says, we haven't got a reputation except a bad one. Nobody thinks that we're any good, that we have it together. And those Indigo girls are full of themselves anyway; they'll think they have this in the bag, and they'll make mistakes because of it."
"That is the hope," Weiss said. "Otherwise … as we proved at the Last Shot, Team Wisteria is not the mess that it once was. We will prove it again, before the eyes of Remnant."
Pyrrha nodded. "In Mistral, it is said that that which we inherit, in accomplishment or virtue, will be coated over by our own deeds for good or ill; only by doing nothing will you preserve the gold, or coal, exactly as it was bequeathed to you."
"Whatever I may do," Weiss said. "Whatever the outcome of this tournament, whatever happens to me, to all of us, in future, one thing I certainly do not intend to do is nothing at all." She paused. "Since fate, and you, saw to it that we cannot be teammates, then we must be rivals, for this tournament at least." She lifted her chin up, so that she almost seemed to be looking down at Pyrrha in spite of the fact that, even elevated as Weiss was, Pyrrha was still the taller. "Look for me in the final rounds."
Pyrrha took a step towards her. "I will," she said. "And I will look forward to it."
"Here she comes! Here she comes!" shouted Diana Archer, jumping up and down in front of the TV. "Here she comes, it's Arslan. This is going be wicked!"
XxXxX
I've got no reason to be nervous, Arslan thought, as she waited in the dark to go out — to lead her team out — into the light, into the arena, into the gaze of the cameras and the crowds.
No reason to be nervous at all.
I am the Golden Lion of Mistral; I've contested the finals of the Mistral Regional Tournament four years running; I won my first tournament — the Eleusinoi Junior Tournament — when I was just ten years old; I've won the Synoikia twice, I won the melee in honour of Lady Swift Foot's birthday last year, and I won the games held by Councillor Ward to celebrate his wedding, and I've won a dozen other games and tournaments up and down Anima. I have fought single combats, and I have fought vast sprawling melees. I have fought in arenas great and small, all the way up to the great Colosseum in Mistral itself. I have no reason to be nervous.
And yet…
It never left her, not completely. No matter how many fights she won, no matter how many trophies she picked up, no matter the prize money that made its way into her bank account, there was a part of her that would always be that kid from the lower slopes shuffling nervously into view, looking around at the ladies and gentlemen with their dust and their armour and their weapons, and feeling like she didn't belong.
Like she was nothing but a grubby peasant intruding into the domain of princes.
It wasn't an easy feeling to shake off, no matter how many times she won, no matter how many of her fellow gladiators were just as poor as she'd started off, or more; some of them were even faunus. Nevertheless … the crowd might love you, and Arslan flattered herself that the crowd did love her, but there was always a sense, at least Arslan had felt a sense, that the arena didn't really belong to people like her. It belonged to P-money, it belonged to Phoebe, it belonged to the bluebloods with the long lines of their ancestors; people like Arslan were admitted upon the sufferance of their talent.
That was why she kept a suitcase full of lien under the bed back home in Mistral in case that sufferance should ever be withdrawn.
Once poor, never rich, as the saying went. They might also have said 'once lowborn, never high,' and there would have been even more truth to that.
Some feelings never went away, no matter what.
No matter how much she knew that they made no sense at all.
This wasn't even Mistral; this was the Amity Colosseum, floating over Vale, where they did things differently, where they had ideas about equality and the like; this space, this battlefield belonged to her as much as it did to anyone else.
And yet still, she felt nervous.
To tell the truth, Arslan wasn't sure that she would want to banish these nerves even if she could; complacency was the enemy of the greatest of warriors: she had seen gladiators stride into the arena with puffed out chests and heads held high and then proceed to get their asses handed to them with all the trimmings in the space of mere minutes. You invited that kind of thing if you acted like that. Hubris was always followed by nemesis. And more practically, you needed a little edge about you, a little wariness; it was what kept you sharp, kept you on point.
It was what would bring you the win, even if your opponent turned out to be tougher than you expected.
And Arslan expected her opponent to be a little tough. She didn't know this Team CFVY personally, but she'd asked around, and apparently, they were good. They were second years, and the word was that Professor Ozpin liked them. They were his favourites in the sophomore year, which meant that they got extra training missions and the like, which wasn't necessarily Arslan's definition of favouritism, but okay.
Not everyone was a fan of the team personally, but everyone Arslan had spoken to acknowledged their ability.
Of course, a little healthy nervousness wasn't the same as defeatism; she'd fought tough adversaries before, and beaten some of them. She'd even fought multiple tough opponents at once, usually during melees when a group of contestants had decided to gang up on her to take her out of the running.
It didn't work.
Arslan took a deep breath in and out. It was important not to swagger into the arena believing that you couldn't possibly lose, but at the same time, it was just as important to walk in there believing that you could win.
And she could win.
Not least for the crowd above her, seated in the stands, who wanted her to win, who wanted Mistral and Haven to win, who had come a long way to watch a display of superlative skill in combat.
And Arslan, for one, didn't mean to disappoint them.
She could hear them, up above, as they waited for the match to start. Team CFVY were late arriving, and so Team ABRN was being held here in the tunnel while they waited upon their opponents to finally show up. And while they waited, so the crowd waited too, and while they waited, they clapped their hands together rhythmically; Arslan could hear it like thunderclaps echoing down out of the heavens, clapping their hands, stamping their feet, the unison noises shaking the corridor around them.
And they were singing.
"Sweet Caroline!
Bah Bah Bah!
Good times never seemed so good!"
"I haven't heard that one before for a Haven team," Reese observed.
"That's because it's one of mine," Arslan said. "The Arslan Army adopted it. I'm not sure why."
"Of course it is," Bolin muttered.
Reese stared at Arslan. "The … Arslan Army?"
"Her fan club," Bolin said dismissively.
"Don't sneer just because you're jealous," Arslan said.
Bolin shook his head. "I'm not…" He stopped. "It doesn't matter."
"Doesn't it?" Arslan asked.
"No," Bolin said.
Arslan took a step towards him. "You've got something to say, then say it; come on."
"Guys, come on," Reese said, "Let's not fight amongst ourselves; the enemy is waiting for us on the other side."
"Or not, which is why we're stuck waiting here," Nadir pointed out.
"Well, yeah, but—"
"There are a lot of things that I could say," Bolin declared. "About you, about your leadership or the lack thereof, about the fact that the only reason you're team leader is because you're a famous fighter … I don't like you, and I'm not ashamed to say so. I've got no reason to be ashamed to say so. But I'm also a Mistralian and a Haven student, the latest of three generations of Horis to attend Haven Academy, and I want our kingdom and our school to do well in this tournament. And, with Pyrrha Nikos fighting for Beacon, I think you're the best chance for Haven to win glory alongside Mistral. And so … use me as you will; I'm at your service."
Arslan stared up at him for a moment, silent; surprise had temporarily left her silenced. She hadn't expected him to say that … probably because she hadn't made much of an effort to get to know him.
You know he's got a point about the team leader thing.
"I'll fight to be worthy of your confidence," she muttered. "As for using you … what I need from the three of you are your best efforts and time. Maybe I can take on all four members of this team at once, but four on one is … tricky." That was an understatement, at least against skilled opponents. She'd done it — once — at Ochre Gorgoneion's wedding feast, and it had been a tough fight; only Pyrrha had ever pushed her harder. If she could avoid it, she would. "If you can take any of them out, then great; if not, then just hold them down, chip away at their aura a little bit, and I'll take care of the rest piece by piece."
"Where do you plan to start?" asked Reese.
Arslan considered that. Team CFVY. Where to start? Where to start? "The big guy," she said, "Yatsuhashi."
If her guess was right, the rest of the team would try and use him as the anvil on which their hammer would break Arslan and the rest of Team ABRN, but Arslan had fought big guys before, and on his own, there was a good chance that he'd be unable to match her speed. She'd take him out before any of his teammates could drive her onto his sword. After that … the faunus girl, Velvet; people whom Arslan had talked to about her said that she hid her weapon, nobody knew what it was, while in combat, she was said to be … from what she'd heard, it was as if the girl had a hundred different styles and none at all. She was their trump card.
Arslan would go for her next.
Reese nodded. "Yatsuhashi, got it. The big guy. Okay, we'll leave him to you to begin with. Right, fellas?"
Bolin nodded. "If that's how you want to play it."
Nadir said nothing.
"Nadir?" Reese asked.
Nadir shrugged.
"Nadir," Bolin said sharply. "This is about Haven and about Mistral, not about us."
Nadir glanced at him. "You sound like an Atlesian."
"I sound like a patriot — and a proud Haven student — which I am," Bolin replied. "This tournament is bigger than our egos."
Arslan felt as though his words were needles pricking at her, and not in a pleasant acupuncture sort of way, either. "Listen, I … I know that I haven't been a very good team leader, and while I say that part of that is because you wound me up … I know that part of it was also because I was just here for the tournament, and I didn't really care about being a leader, or a huntress, or a good student, or anything like that. But I'll do better next year. I understand better now; I want to be a huntress."
"A legendary huntress," Reese observed.
"Well, duh!" Arslan said. "If you're going to do something, you might as well try and be famous doing it."
Bolin snorted. "We'll see," he said. "But for now, we'll cover you as best we can."
"Will Team Coffee and Team Auburn please make their way out onto the arena to start the match," Doctor Oobleck phrased it as a demand, not a request.
Arslan cricked her neck to one side. "Looks like this is it. Are we ready?"
"As we'll ever be," Nadir murmured.
"Okay then," Arslan said, and strode out of the darkness and into the light.
Into the light, into the sight, into the view of the cameras. Arslan could see herself in close up on the big screens that were visible from all angles in the coliseum. She smiled for the cameras, she waved to them, she blew a kiss to them as she led Team Auburn out across the grey-white metal.
"Team Auburn of Haven!" Professor Port boomed, but his voice barely carried over the applause and the cheering, the exultant sounds of the crowd that had redoubled when Arslan made her appearance.
I am gonna miss this, Arslan thought as she turned on her toe to face the home crowd behind her, raising her hands in the air to prompt even more and louder cheering, a renewed burst of singing, as though she were a conductor instructing the orchestra to give it a bit more of the old fortissimo.
This … it might not strictly be real, it might not be a substitute for love or anything like that, it might be temporary and would disappear quickly enough, but … but it was still pretty cool.
Maybe I can still fight the odd fight here and there, do just the Synoikia or the Theseia, or the Eleusinoi. Or just do weddings and the like.
No, no, that wouldn't really be in the spirit of it, would it?
Or would it? Being a huntress is a job at the end of the day, and if I make money from the odd fight here and there, then I can afford to take jobs that I wouldn't be able to afford otherwise.
That sounds like an excuse.
I can think about all of this later. For now, I need to keep my head in the game.
"And Team Coffee of Beacon!" Professor Port declared as Arslan's opponents made their way out from the opposite tunnel. People were cheering for them too, but Arslan flattered herself that they weren't getting so many cheers as Team ABRN was.
The two teams met in the centre of the arena, facing off against one another. The faces of Team CFVY were displayed on the big board on their side of the battlefield, displaying the faces to go alongside the names in case anyone didn't know.
Coco Adel: the leader of the team, a girl who was about as tall as P-money, with a pale complexion and sunglasses that hid her eyes from view. A black beret sat on her head but didn't hide the brown hair that was hanging down around her head in a bob cut. She wore black pants and a brown sweater that looked too big at the arms and too small at the waist — as in, Arslan could see her waistline — with a black corset on the outside that Arslan … Arslan was no expert, but she was pretty sure that Coco was wearing it wrong if you could see the seam, which hadn't been done up properly, from the front. A black scarf enveloped her neck, and a half-dozen or so black chains must have been dangling from there too, although Arslan could only see them when they dropped below the scarf. She had a large, boxy handbag in one hand, and she was swinging it lightly back and forth.
Fox Alistair was as tall as his team leader, a dark-skinned young man with a shock of red hair that was untidy-looking in that very specific way that takes a lot of effort to achieve each morning — Arslan knew that because she'd gone through a hair gel phase herself when she was about thirteen-fourteen, spending time sculpting it every morning to get exactly the look that she wanted; the trouble was the hair gel wreaked havoc on her skin, and she'd eventually realised that whatever coolness she was accruing with great hair, she was losing again thanks to truly terrible acne. Fox was wearing a pair of black pants, just like his leader, and an orange-red sleeveless vest that left his muscular, heavily scarred arms visible to view down to his lower forearms, which were covered by the black fingerless gloves that covered his hands. Around his wrists, he wore a pair of massive blades, sweeping backwards like wings until the point was higher than his shoulders, almost level with his pale, white, sightless eyes.
Velvet Scarlatina looked to be very tall, but mostly because of her rabbit ears sticking up out of the top of her head, which didn't really count in Arslan's opinion; without them, she reckoned that she, Arslan, was a bit taller. Velvet was slightly built, and the layers that she was wearing weren't doing much to change that. She was wearing, or at least Arslan thought she was wearing, a black bodysuit, with brown pants and a muddy brown top over it, with a gap between them at her waist, and gilded, segmented pauldrons on her shoulders and gilded bracers on her wrists. High black boots, very high boots, rose as far as her thighs and her navel, so that very little of her pants could be seen. Her hair was a brown a little darker than her outfit and fell down straight past her waist. Arslan couldn't see her weapon, but she was wearing a box at the back of her waist, which probably had the weapon in it; she was just waiting to get it out.
Yatsuhashi Daichi was a giant of a man, eight or maybe nine feet tall, absolutely ridiculous, and heavily built to boot with a bull neck and arms like tree trunks. He shaved his dark hair close to the top of his head, and his eyes were dark and a little bit beady. He wore a green robe, on only one shoulder a lot like Arslan herself, over a black muscle shirt, with brown pants and black boots partly covered by grey iron greaves over his legs. He wore chunky olive green vambraces over his wrists and a nice looking manica, of the same colour but tinged with darker green edges, covering his left shoulder and most of his arm with only a slight gap between that and the vambrace. In his right hand, he held a sword that, while it was not quite as big as he was, was quite big enough, a thick, bronze-coloured blade that was broader at the base than the arm of its wielder and curved towards the tip, so that Arslan it almost looked less like a sword and more like the jawbone of some ancient creature like you might see in the Mistral Museum, a sea monster or a dragon or something.
He held it in one hand at the moment, but Arslan expected him to switch to using it two-handed when the battle began in earnest.
"So," Coco said, "I hear that one of you is some bigshot tournament fighter back in Mistral."
Arslan wondered if she was being baited by being implied to be not that famous. But, the truth was, that she was really only Mistral-famous. You had to win the Mistral Tournament like Pyrrha to escape from Mistralian fame and become world famous.
"Yeah," she said, "that's me, I guess."
A smirk flashed across Coco's face. "But you decided to come here and see some real fighting, huh? Don't worry, kid; we'll take you to school."
Arslan didn't reply. There was no point. She was going to reply with her fists soon enough.
The rings that brought up the different biomes that would divide the arena began to spin around and around. Arslan didn't see the point of them really; you didn't need rocks or fake mountains or a lake in the middle to enjoy the ancient art of combat — okay, yes, the Colosseum in Mistral could be flooded, but still — in fact, Arslan would go so far as to say that they were an active detriment; gimmicks like that took away from the essence of the sport, the purity of the combat.
And besides, cameras or not, surely it was better when the audience could see everything?
And it wasn't as if they'd had the ability to create all these fancy environments eighty years ago when the tournament started, so you couldn't appeal to its history or anything. No, someone too clever by half — an Atlesian, probably — had sat down and thought that the thing that combat as a sport really, really needed was a forest coming out of the floor.
Idiots.
Still, they were here now, and Arslan was stuck with it the same as anyone else; nobody was listening to her opinion that all an arena needed was a floor to fight on. And so the images spun around and around before settling upon an icy biome for Team CFVY's half of the arena and a fiery one behind Team ABRN.
An ice shelf, mostly flat but littered here and there by great icy stalactites rising up out of the ground, spikes protruding out of them, bounded by a semicircular wall of ice that curled in on itself like a skating track, rose out of the floor behind Team CFVY.
Behind Team ABRN, the plain metal floor was replaced by something that looked like smouldering lava, if probably not so dangerous to touch; it also had things sticking up out of the ground, although Arslan wasn't so sure what they were supposed to be.
It didn't really matter. She didn't intend to go back.
Arslan cracked her knuckles.
"Three!" Professor Port called out, his voice echoing across the arena.
Yatsuhashi gripped his sword in two hands, just as Arslan had expected he would.
"Two!" Doctor Oobleck cried.
The members of Team CFVY settled into fighting stances, ready to go.
Arslan kept her eyes on Yatsuhashi.
"One!" Professor Port yelled. "Begin!"
Arslan sprang at her opponent like a lion, racing forward, both hands clenched into fists, back hunched to put her low to the ground. She could just about hear the sound of Reese's pulse pistols going off, the rattle of Nadir's rifle, and she trusted her teammates to at least buy her a little time before her opponents started ganging up on her.
For now, her focus was Yatsuhashi.
He seemed to know it, because he kept his eyes on her just as she raced towards him. He didn't advance to meet her, but as she closed the distance between them, he raised that massive jawbone of a sword of his and slashed at her in a great swinging stroke like he was harvesting the barley in the fields or something, a stroke that swung across all the space in front of him.
Arslan leapt over the sword as it swung at her, jumping over it as though it was a skipping rope being swung by her friends, letting the enormous blade pass harmlessly underneath her before she landed back on the ground.
Yatsuhashi reversed his stroke, swinging his sword again, this time with the flat of the blade leading the way because he didn't have time — or didn't want to take the time — to turn it around. Obviously, he knew it would still hurt if he smacked Arslan with it. Either way, he swung the blade back, and Arslan jumped over the sword again, but this time, as the sword passed underneath her, she laid one foot down upon the swinging blade and kicked off it, off and upwards and flying straight for Yatsuhashi's face.
His mouth widened in an O of surprise as Arslan shot towards him. He tried to bring up his sword, but the blade was moving too slowly compared to her. He let go of his sword with one hand and brought up one meaty hand to shield his face.
Arslan reached out and grabbed two of his fingers, wrapping one hand around them — they were big and meaty enough — and using them to swing herself up, over the hand that tried to grab her, so that she could bring her foot straight down onto the top of his head like a ton of bricks.
Yatsuhashi groaned as his head bent forwards. Arslan landed on the ground in front of him, inside his guard, and immediately began to throw punch after punch, a furious flurry of blows all aimed at his gut for the simple reason that she couldn't really reach much higher than that on this tree of a man, but that didn't matter because she was hitting him, knocking his aura down, driving him backwards onto the ice.
He swung blindly for her, not with his sword but with his free arm, flailing with it to drive her off. Arslan ducked beneath his swinging arm, rolling along the metal at the centre of the arena, rolling up into a low crouch.
As she rolled, one hand reached up for her necklace of fire dust crystals, ripping one away and igniting it with a touch of her aura, turning the crystal into a fireball that she flung at Yatushashi.
He blocked the fireball with his sword, but although the fire dissipated harmlessly, the explosion blinded him for a second as Arslan closed the distance between them once again.
She had another fire dust crystal clasped between her fingers.
Yatsuhashi didn't slash at her again; rather, as Arslan charged, he raised his sword and brought it straight down towards her. Arslan rolled, feeling the vibration of the blade hitting the ground.
She came up and threw another fireball at him before he could bring the sword up again.
The fireball hit him square in the chest; he hadn't been able to defend himself in time. The blast made him recoil backwards, onto the ice.
Arslan leapt at him. Yatsuhashi swung his sword, but Arslan rolled beneath it, rolling sideways, skittering around the bigger man until she flanked him. She closed from the side instead of the front. He skidded on the ice trying to turn to face her, which was when Arslan lashed out with a sweeping kick that cut his trunk legs out from under him.
Yatsuhashi flailed as he fell. Arslan jumped up and punched him square in the chest just to drive him home. He landed on his back on the ice with an almighty crash that seemed to shake the whole arena. Arslan raised his fist to hit him again.
Yatsuhashi locked eyes with her.
And Arslan … what was she … huh, hadn't she just been about to—?
Yatsuhashi reached for her with one meaty hand. Arslan avoided his grasp upon instinct, years of training and experience kicking in to make her feet move on their own as she danced out of his grasp.
Vytal Festival. First Round. Big Fight. Enemy.
Don't exactly remember how I got there; I thought I was just about to…
Does his semblance take my memories away?
In spite of my aura?
Okay, that was … that was scary, that was what that was. Scary and unnatural. What kind of a monster had a semblance like that? Think what you could do with a semblance like that. You could make it so that Arslan wasn't Arslan any more, stripped of all her memories, of all the things that made her who she was.
I've got to take this guy out before he does it again.
Yatsuhashi was getting to his feet now, but slowly; that was his problem: he was too slow, at least too slow for her.
Arslan didn't give him the chance to get up. She threw herself at him, skidding on the ice a little bit, but she got there before he was on his feet, before had the chance to use his semblance on her again. She kicked him in the face, knocking him straight back onto his back where he started, and then she stood on his chest and kicked off the ice, using Yatsuhashi like a sled as he slid across the ice, Arslan squatting on top of him, using her foot kick this way or that, to send him dodging the icy stalactites and keep sliding towards the wall of ice that marked the limits of the battlefield.
She hit him for good measure a couple of times in case he got any ideas.
Arslan kicked off the ice again and again, pushing her human sled faster and faster as they approached the ice wall, leaping off him at the last moment, sliding herself across the ice but still able to watch Yatsuhashi hit the wall hard enough to smash clean through it and drop out of the arena and out of sight.
"A double elimination!" Doctor Oobleck proclaimed. "Yatsuhashi Daichi has been ejected from the arena, and his aura has dropped below the permitted level!"
"Unfortunately, it's not all plain sailing for Team Auburn," Professor Port added. "Nadir Shiko has just been eliminated by aura depletion. The two teams are neck and— oh, no, Reese Chloris has also been eliminated! Team Auburn is down two members while Team Coffee has only lost one!"
It won't stay that way for too long, Arslan thought, as a glance at the board confirmed that — of course — the two teachers were correct. She was two people down; only Bolin remained beside her.
On the plus side, all of the remaining members of Team CFVY had lost some of their aura, if not always very much.
Arslan turned to face her next opponents.
Bolin was still battling it out against Fox Alistair, but Coco Adel and Velvet Scarlatina both seemed now to be focused upon Arslan. Certainly, they were both turning in her direction.
Coco's purse had unfolded into a rotary machine gun of black and yellow; the six barrels began to turn a split second before she opened fire.
Arslan ran, staying one step ahead of the stream of fire that Coco was throwing in her direction in spite of the way her slippers kept slipping and skidding upon the ice. Coco strafed sideways, tracking Arslan, her rounds shredding the icicle stalagmites and the ice wall surrounding their half of the arena.
But she wasn't hitting Arslan yet, and Velvet didn't appear to be doing anything.
No sooner had Arslan thought that then another rotary machine gun appeared in her arms, identical to Coco's, except that instead of being solid metal and plastic, this one was insubstantial, made of hardlight dust.
But when Velvet opened fire, she started shredding the scenery just like Coco, so obviously, the damage that it did was real enough.
Velvet was firing in front of Arslan and working her way towards her from the other side, to trap her between their fires and leave her with nowhere to run.
Except that she could still run forwards, and she did just that, rushing towards the edge of the ice field and back towards the centre of the battlefield. Coco kept trailing after Arslan with her fire, while Velvet ceased firing — until she started firing in front of Arslan to cut her off that way. So Arslan changed direction to run towards her instead. Velvet tried to track her, but Arslan could move herself faster than either Coco or Velvet could move their weapons, and she was able to keep herself always one step ahead, just one step ahead all the time, and while they demolished the landscape — good, Arslan preferred to fight on the flat ground — they didn't ever manage to hit her.
Something that they both recognised, as Coco's machine gun collapsed back into that thick, boxy purse, while Velvet's weapon disappeared into nothing at all.
They both charged at her before Arslan was out of the ice which crunched beneath their feet as they rushed at her.
Velvet reached her first; she was closer and faster than Coco, throwing a flurry of fast punches that Arslan had to work to dodge. As she punched, two weapons formed out of light upon her arms: the gauntlets that the Xiao Long girl used.
Her weapon is something in that box that lets her copy other people's weapons, huh? Arslan thought as she dodged both the punches and the fire spitting from the hardlight gauntlets.
No, no, it wasn't just the weapons, Arslan realised as she dodged the punches and the shots equally, retreating in the face of Velvet's advance. It wasn't just Xiao Long's weapons, it was her fighting style as well; she'd seen the blonde girl fight in combat class a few times, and Velvet was standing like her and throwing punches like her as well.
Arslan backflipped twice, putting a little distance between herself and Velvet. Velvet followed, throwing out her fists one after the other. Arslan let her come as she produced her dagger, Nemean Claw, out of her wrist, attached to a rope wrapped around her hand. Velvet attacked. Arslan backflipped again, throwing Nemean Claw as she did so. Knife and rope wrapped around Velvet's leg, and Arslan pulled on the rope, yanking Velvet off balance, off her feet, and upwards to where Arslan kicked her square in the chest to send her flying.
Velvet was thrown backwards, but before Arslan could follow up, Coco charged in, purse drawn back, swinging it like a brick aimed at Arslan's head.
Arslan took the blow on her left forearm — she could feel her aura draining from the strength of the blow, feel the force of it running through her arm, feel her arm tremble at Coco's strength — while with her right arm, she hit Coco in the face, knocking her sunglasses off — although Arslan couldn't see her eyes as she was thrown away.
Arslan followed up on her — yeah, she'd intended to deal with Velvet first, but that had assumed that her own team would last a little longer and she wouldn't be tag-teamed. In the circumstances, getting rid of Coco while she could was a good option.
Plus, having worked out Velvet's secret, she didn't seem quite so dangerous.
Arslan bore down on Coco like a lion upon the buffalo. Coco was quicker on her feet than Yatsuhashi had been; she'd gotten up again by the time that Arslan reached her.
She let her weapon hang off her shoulder, facing Arslan with her bare fists, curled up and raised. She must have thought that her purse was too heavy and slow and she stood a better chance unarmed.
Arslan threw a punch, then another; Coco blocked them both with her forearms. Arslan kicked her in the gut, and that, Coco did not block as Arslan knocked her onto the fiery half of the battlefield, Team ABRN's side.
Arslan was hit by something on the side of the head that knocked her to the ground. She rolled upright just in time to see a hardlight copy of Akoúo̱ soar back onto Velvet's arm.
Velvet had had a hardlight Miló, in spear form, in her other hand, and now, she was standing like Pyrrha, even standing on her toes in the absence of high heels, looking as if she expected a dramatic wind to blow through her hair and make the sash she wasn't wearing fly out beside her like a flag.
Oh no, you didn't, Arslan thought, because that was just … that was just insulting. That was salt in the wound, that was. Utterly and completely … no respect at all. None at all. Just … seriously?
You think that just because P-money has beaten me every time that you can copy her weapons and you're going to copy her fighting style and you'll beat me too?
Let me tell you something, Missy, it'll take a lot more than copied weapons and a copied fighting style to take me down!
Velvet might not be wearing Pyrrha's sash, but she was definitely showing a red rag to the golden lion.
Arslan snorted out of her nostrils. Some things were just disrespectful, plain and simple, and this was rubbing salt in the wound.
She charged towards Velvet. Velvet charged towards her, arms pumping, long brown hair flying out behind her like a—
Stop it.
It was annoying how uncanny it was.
They came together like two lions clashing for control of the territory and all the lionesses who lived there, and as they made their final approach, Velvet whirled upon her toes, lashing out with her shield at head height, while whipping her spear around at ankle level so that Arslan could neither duck beneath one nor leap over the other but had no choice but to backflip clear and out of the way. Velvet thrust the fake Miló for Arslan's chest; Arslan parried with Nemean Claw, knocking the spear away before throwing a punch that Velvet took upon the false Akoúo̱. Arslan kicked, but Velvet shuffled back out of the way before driving Arslan back with another thrust of the fake Miló.
Arslan ripped another fire dust crystal off her necklace, ignited it with aura, and threw the ensuing fireball at Velvet.
Velvet charged through the fireball as Pyrrha would have done, taking the blast upon her shield as she rushed forwards, the false Miló thrusting forwards.
Arslan fell back. Getting to grips with Pyrrha was always part of the problem; she had reach on Arslan with her weapons, and she was too fast for Arslan to get around her at all.
Let's see if you can copy her speed as well as her fighting style.
Arslan sprang to the side, trying to get around Velvet's flank and past her guard before she could respond, but Velvet was able to turn in time, presenting the fake Miló and Akoúo̱ towards her, shield and spear ever ready.
She wasn't as fast as Pyrrha — at least, Arslan didn't think so — but she was fast enough.
Fast enough for that, anyway.
But not quite as fast as Pyrrha, and she didn't seem to be able to transform her false Miló at all; it was stuck as a spear.
"Bolin Hori has just been eliminated!" Doctor Oobleck declared. "Arslan Altan is now the only member of Team Auburn left standing! Can she pull off an astonishing upset?"
Just you watch, Doctor, Arslan thought, even as she could see Coco and Fox starting to circle around her like wolves. They meant to attack her all at once and bring her down.
Arslan took a moment, while they got themselves into position, and in that moment, she found that she could see a way forward.
She turned her back on Velvet and her Pyrrha cosplay and charged towards Coco.
Coco didn't fire, probably worried about hitting either of her teammates; she waited. Arslan expected that she thought that if she could just hold Arslan off for a second, then her teammates would be along to back her up. Arslan could already hear them chasing after her.
But, you know, the problem with using Pyrrha's weapons and Pyrrha's fighting style is that I can take a pretty good guess what P-money would do in a situation like this.
Arslan dived for the ground, throwing out her hands and turning her dive into a roll along the ice as the false Akoúo̱ flew over her head and — without Pyrrha's semblance to redirect it anywhere — hit Coco Adel square in the face, knocking her flat onto her back and taking her aura down into the red.
"Coco Adel has been eliminated by friendly fire!" Professor Port boomed. "What an unfortunate turn of events for Team Coffee!"
Velvet gasped. "Coco! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry—"
Her apologies were cut off as Arslan went for her. Velvet gripped the fake Miló in two hands, whirling it almost like a staff, passing it from hand to hand in front of her, using it to block all of Arslan's furious punches. Arslan put her on the backfoot for a second, but then she came back at her, spear whirling, lashing out with it at Arslan's feet and at her face. Velvet's whole body whirled, hair flying around her.
And Arslan did something that she never would have dared to do with Pyrrha and reached out for Velvet's long, flying hair and grabbed hold of it.
Pyrrha would have punished her for that; Arslan was halfway convinced that was why she grew it so long, as a challenge: go on, try it, grab my hair, see what happens.
But Velvet wasn't Pyrrha; she was fast, but she wasn't fast enough to respond before Arslan had yanked her off her feet off her feet by her hair, and then it was Arslan's turn to whirl around and hurl Velvet like a hammer in the hammer throw straight for Fox Alistair.
He caught her, taking less damage to his aura than he would have done if he'd let her hit him, but unfortunately for him, that left his hands full as Arslan leapt through the air after her missile to fall upon them both.
With her left hand, she punched Velvet in the gut, knocking her back against Fox's chest, while with her right, she hit Fox himself, making him half-double over and drop Velvet on the ground at Arslan's feet. Arslan stepped over her, throwing more punches — one, two, three — at Fox's face to drive him back.
Velvet leapt upright behind her. Arslan turned as fast as a whipcrack and kicked her hard in the face, taking her aura down into the red.
"Velvet Scarlatina has been eliminated!" Doctor Oobleck proclaimed. "What a reversal of fortune in just a few moments!"
Fox rushed her. Arslan didn't know what he was hoping to achieve with those awkward blades, but it was like he was throwing his punches short so that the blades would get her instead.
But Bolin had already done most of the work on his aura, and so Arslan fell back, pulling two more fire dust crystals from her necklace, igniting them, and throwing them at him, one after the other.
He held up his arms to protect his face, but she took his aura into the red regardless.
"Fox Alistair, the last member of Team Coffee, has been eliminated!" Professor Port said as the cheers from the Haven section of the crowd rose up like an immense tidal wave sweeping towards the shore. "Team Auburn wins the match!"
"Yeah! That's right!" Arslan yelled, raising both hands in triumph. "Yeah! And stay tuned, because I promise, there is so much more to come!"
XxXxX
Swift Foot beamed from ear to ear as she leaned forwards in her seat.
"Our gladiators are the pride of Mistral," she said. "Can it be doubted?"
"No," Terri-Belle replied, in a voice that was almost a grunt. "It's just a pity," she added, as she got to her feet, "that the same cannot be said of our huntsmen and huntresses."
XxXxX
Author's Note: In English cricket, up until the 1960s, there was a division between the so-called 'Gentlemen' and 'Players'; 'Gentlemen' were upper-middle class amateurs, who competed as members of professional cricket clubs but were not paid for it; 'Players' were paid for their time and effort, and were generally from more working class backgrounds. The Gentlemen vs Players match was the highlight of the English cricketing calendar until the division between the two was abolished.
So if you're wondering 'how is Arslan able to have won tournaments without ever having beaten Pyrrha?' it's because Pyrrha, in this conception, is a 'Gentleman', someone of independent means who competes for the prestige but has no pressing financial need to compete in every single tournament in every single year. Arslan, by contrast, is a 'Player', who makes her living on the tournament circuit and so she will troop round every tournament and every fancy wedding and birthday party because that's her job. And sometimes Pyrrha won't be there.
Arslan turned in the corridor — this one more brightly lit than the one immediately leading out of or into the battlefield itself — to see Pyrrha walking towards her, her sash trailing a little behind her as she advanced.
"P-money," Arslan said, turning away from her teammates for a moment — with a slight gesture of her hand to indicate that she'd be back — to walk towards her.
The two met halfway down the pristine, metallic corridor, where the lights from above glinted on Pyrrha's abundance of metal.
"Congratulations," Pyrrha said, a bright smile upon her face. "You did well. You did very well. Today, I think that you are the pride of Mistral."
If Arslan had had a paler complexion, she probably would have blushed; as it was, she let out a sort of embarrassed chuckle and scratched the back of her head with one hand. "Don't say that yet; the day's not over. Most importantly we haven't had your match yet."
"I doubt that I will be eliminating all four members of the opposing team by myself," Pyrrha pointed out.
"Probably not, but…" Arslan stopped short of saying that that was because Pyrrha had better teammates than she did, "that's no reflection on you."
"No," Pyrrha agreed. "But it does mean that in raw achievement, you are unlikely to be matched." She paused. "You did very well. In particular … you did very well against … well, me, for want of a better word." Her smile became a little mischievous. "Should I wonder if you've been holding back against me all these years?"
Arslan's eyes narrowed. "If I didn't know you were joking, I'd be very upset with you right now," she said. "I have never held back against you in my life." She scowled for a moment. "She wasn't you. She moved like you, she had copies of your weapons, but she wasn't you. She didn't have your speed, for a start, and she didn't have … there's only one of each of us, P-money, in all of Remnant and beyond; we're unique and irreplaceable, and no semblance can change that."
"Mmm," Pyrrha murmured, sounding a little bit as though she didn't believe Arslan, for whatever reason. "If you say so."
"I do say so," Arslan replied. "I just did."
"Nevertheless, I…" Pyrrha trailed before saying what she meant, or what she wanted to say. Instead, she said, "I suppose your parents will be very pleased."
"My parents don't watch my matches," Arslan said.
"Really?" Pyrrha asked.
Arslan nodded. "My mom says they're too tense. Which is the same reason she doesn't watch pretty much any dramas on TV these days, so I know it's nothing personal."
"And your father?"
"He doesn't want to make Mom watch, and he doesn't want to watch it without her," Arslan said.
"I … see," Pyrrha murmured. "How does that—?"
"It's fine," Arslan said. "I know that they support me, or that they would support me if they could bring themselves to actually watch, and they're always pleased to find out that I won after the fact — or to console me if I didn't. I don't need them to be glued to the TV whenever I'm on it to know that they love me; they showed me that by taking care of me all my life."
Pyrrha chuckled. "Yes, yes, you're right, of course. Are you planning to stay and watch the matches or head down to enjoy the fairgrounds?"
"I'm not really interested in Weiss Schnee," Arslan said. "I'm going to head down. You?"
"Yes," Pyrrha said. "I thought about giving it a miss, but then … Weiss challenged me, she wishes to meet in the one on one rounds, and while that may or may not happen, I feel it would be bad form not to watch her fight."
"Yes, that would be a bit of an insult, to act as though you don't even need to see how she fights."
"I've seen how she fights," Pyrrha pointed out. "But yes, the circumstances … honour demands it. And I have little doubt that she will put on a good show."
XxXxX
Rainbow sat down with a large tub of popcorn in her hands. Pinkie, Applejack, Rarity, and Fluttershy weren't joining them for this match; it was just her and Blake at the moment, with Team SAPR to join them later on — even Jaune, probably because the other three members of his team were all going to be here, which had surprised Rainbow a little bit — and so they didn't have to go scrambling round for seats with the rest of the crowds; they could take their seats in the places at the front reserved exclusively for contenders. The seats were a little bigger and more comfortable than those behind them, which seemed a little bit of a waste, considering that they weren't going to be used that often, but at the same time, she wasn't going to complain too hard because they were very comfortable.
Rainbow held her popcorn tub out towards Blake. "Feel free to take any of this, by the way; I got it for both of us."
"Thanks," Blake murmured without looking at Rainbow Dash — but she reached out and plucked a handful of popcorn from out of the tub.
Rainbow grinned and took a couple of pieces of popcorn herself, holding them between her fingers. "I hope this is more like the stuff you get in the movie theatres than the stuff you get in the store," she said.
"It doesn't taste great either way," Blake said, as she put some into her mouth. "But it is … moreish, and strangely satisfying in a sense."
"Yeah, but the movie theatre quality stuff does taste — or feel, maybe — a lot better," Rainbow said. She popped the corns she was holding into her mouth, chewing the soft, very chewy, popcorn in her mouth. "Which this is. Score!" She paused a moment. "Did you ask Sun to join you for this?"
"No," Blake said. "No, I didn't think that would be right. It sounded as though he was really upset by—"
"Weiss had nothing to do with that," Rainbow said. "He gets that, right?"
"Yes," Blake said. "At least, I think."
Rainbow's eyes narrowed. "You think?"
"We haven't talked about Weiss," Blake pointed out.
"Fair enough, but…" Rainbow paused a moment. "He's not going to do anything stupid, is he?"
Blake glanced at her. "Sun isn't going to lash out at Weiss, if that's what you're suggesting."
"You're the one who told me that he was upset."
"He was upset, but you know Sun; he's not malicious, he doesn't hold grudges," Blake said. "What he found out, this view of a world that was different than he'd imagined … it inspired him to do the right thing; it didn't fill him with a need for vengeance. I think … I think that's the difference between Sun and Adam. In the end, what Adam wanted most was revenge for the wrongs that had already been committed; Sun wants to try and stop more wrongs from being done, as far as it's in his power to do."
Rainbow kept her lips closed, but some trace of a kind of giggling sound slipped out anyway.
Blake turned her head towards her. "What?"
"Nothing," Rainbow said.
Blake regarded her flatly. "What?"
"Nothing!" Rainbow insisted. "I just think it's really cute, you know, the way that you're all hyping up your boyfriend. It's … cute. A little unexpected, but cute."
"'Unexpected'?"
"Well…" Rainbow squirmed a little in her seat. "You know. You weren't exactly—"
"Yeah," Blake murmured. "I know. But now … I'm doing better by him. That … that's all there is to it, really. Now that he's closing the distance between us, I can … see him better."
"Awww."
"You sound like my mother," Blake muttered.
Rainbow snorted. "I can appreciate romance as much as the next girl."
"Hello again," Pyrrha said as she led Team SAPR to join them.
"Okay, maybe not the next girl, but the one behind her for sure," Rainbow said. "Hey, everyone. I wasn't sure that you were going to join us."
"We weren't sure that we were going to join you," Jaune replied as the four members of the team sat down next to Rainbow.
"Yeah?" Rainbow asked. "Then why did you?"
"A conversation with Weiss on the rooftop," Pyrrha said. "A reminder of how seriously she's taking all of this. It would have felt wrong not to watch."
"Yeah, that's about the size of it," Rainbow said. "After all the ways that she helped us in Low Town and in Atlas, it would have been just ungrateful to have let her fight the fight all by herself."
"How do you think they'll do?" asked Jaune.
"They'll win," Sunset said.
"Weiss certainly seemed confident enough," Pyrrha added. "Or at least, she felt that she had sufficient grounds to present confidence."
"She's got good luck, going up against a Vacuo team," Rainbow declared. "All— most Vacuans are kind of … full of crap. Ooh, ooh, hard places breed hard people, we're so tough, ooh, give me a break. They're full of hot air."
"It can be true," Blake said. "I learned how to fight on the road, moving around outside the kingdoms."
"You learned how to fight because you were brought up by terrorists," Rainbow said. "You could have been raised in a White Fang base in the middle of Vale and you'd still know how to fight; you didn't need to grow up sucking on sand to do it. All of that stuff the Vacuans come out with is just sour grapes; they're not as rich as us, they're not as advanced as us, so they try and cover up their jealousy by acting like their disadvantages make them better than us. Which it doesn't. Leave aside our numbers, all our tech, everything else, man for man, we're still better than they are, because we're better trained without all of this warrior nonsense filling our heads." She glanced at Pyrrha. "No offence."
"None taken," Pyrrha murmured.
"They do have some reason to be upset," Blake said softly. "Atlas exploited Vacuo's natural resources at great cost to the environment and continues to do so today on a smaller scale, which is only a smaller scale because so much was extracted out of Vacuo before the Great War."
Rainbow was quiet for a moment. "That … is true," she admitted. "We haven't always been the nice guys, or the good guys. But Atlas today isn't Mantle then, you know that, and we could help them if they weren't so proud. Atlesian technology might be able to help … mitigate some of the damage that Mantle caused way back when."
"Maybe it could," Blake said. "But … when people blame you for something … it can be hard to persuade them to let you fix the problem that you caused. I think that's something we'll probably both run up against in years to come, in all kinds of ways."
Rainbow sighed. "You're a real ray of sunshine sometimes, Blake," she said. "Anyway, on the question of who is going to win, my point stands: Team Wisteria is going to clean up, and you'll see it with your own eyes soon enough."
XxXxX
"Are you sure that you two don't want to catch a skybus up to the arena and watch the next match?" Skystar asked. "Because we could. I mean, we might miss the beginning, but we could get there."
"No," Silverstream said firmly. "No, why would we want to do that? To watch Cardin's match? Ugh."
"Why are we here in the first place?" Terramar asked.
"Because Skystar is the Amity Princess, so she has to be here, and we're here so that she doesn't have to be here by herself," Silverstream reminded him. To Skystar, she added, "But just because you have to be here doesn't mean that you have to watch every single match, especially not that guy."
"It's also Weiss' match," Skystar pointed out.
"Yeah, well," Silverstream murmured.
She hadn't … she didn't blame Weiss, exactly … she didn't blame Weiss at all for what had gone on — it seemed like even her father hadn't known, so why should she have known? — but at the same time … it left a sour taste in her mouth. It made it hard to enjoy Weiss' music, or even to appreciate her skill as a huntress, knowing that everything that Silverstream had thought was cool about her: the fashion, the musical talent, the prodigious skill at everything she turned her hand to, had all been paid for by the suffering — the real suffering, not just ordinary hard work but, like, slavery and stuff — of faunus like her and Terramar. Even though she hadn't known about it, it was still hard to look at her the same way.
She hadn't thrown away all of her merch or anything, because it wasn't as though it was all tainted, and maybe she wouldn't feel as strongly about the whole thing later on, but for now … they'd had pictures. They'd had pictures of the people at the camps that the Atlesians had liberated, and some of the people were so thin and sick looking, like they were about to drop dead at any moment, and the markings on their faces, the letters burned into their skin…
It was hard to forget that. There were times, at night, when she'd just finished brushing her teeth, and she went to turn off the bathroom light, and as the light went off, it was as though, in that split second, she could see reflected in the mirror her own face with the letters 'SDC' burned onto it.
It made it hard to cheer for Weiss Schnee, regardless of how little she had known about the whole thing or how little she could have done to stop it.
When you put that together with the fact that Cardin was on Weiss' team, and, well, it wasn't a hard decision to make.
"I'm not feeling Weiss or her match at the moment, especially not when she's fighting alongside that guy," she said. She smiled a little. "Unless you want to cheer for him to get his ass kicked."
Skystar looked as though she might laugh, but didn't. "No," she said. "No, I … I don't hate him like that, but … that doesn't mean that I want to watch him win either, let's do … something else, what do you guys want to do?"
"I'd like to give that shooting gallery a try," said Terramar.
"Okay then," Skystar declared. "Away we go!"
XxXxX
"Settle down kids, settle down," Lieutenant Martinez instructed, snapping her fingers as she sat up on the sofa. "This is the one fight that I really want to see."
"Doesn't seem like they've got the crowd on their side," Mike said as the kids quietened down and got out of the way, leaving their parents a better view — at least for the duration of this fight.
"They don't need the crowd on their side," Martinez said. She had never had the crowd on her side in all her years as a police officer, or at least, she'd never felt as though the public was really on her side. It hadn't stopped her yet. "They just need to be better than the other guys."
"And are they?" Mike asked. "Better than the other guys?"
"They'd better be," Martinez muttered. "Or I'll have some words for them once they're done."
XxXxX
"Prim! It's about to start!"
"I'll be through in a second," Primrose Seacole called back from out of the kitchen as she continued to squash up the banana slices with the back of a spoon until it was scarcely recognisable as banana at all, more a sort of yellow-ish mush of indeterminate origin, a little bit like baby food, only with less chemicals.
No, the chemicals were all in the Mistralian yoghurt that she poured on top of the mashed banana, half covering the yellow mush beneath a thick layer of white liquid. She stuck the spoon into the bowl of yoghurt and banana and carried it through into the living room.
Their new house in Canterlot was certainly a big improvement on the place where they'd lived in Low Town; in fact, Canterlot was a big improvement on Low Town in every way, except the people. Primrose missed cranky old Grampa Gruff running the store, for one, and Gallus trying to escape; but Canterlot seemed full of very nice people so far, and Prim didn't even know them that well yet.
And in every other way, Canterlot was a huge improvement: the weather was better, the air felt fresher, and their new home wasn't nearly as draughty as the old one had been.
The kitchen was larger, with every modern convenience, and the living room was bigger too, although they didn't really need the extra space. Certainly, they wouldn't once she and Lavender went off to school.
It worried Prim a little what would become of Grandma once that happened; there had already been some arrangements made: a man named Brian came round three times a day to help Grandma get up in the morning, make her dinner in the late afternoon, and wash her and put her to do bed in the evening, and all of that would be vital once her grandchildren weren't around, but … three visits a day wasn't a lot; there was a lot of time in between to be lonely.
Word on the street was that the SDC would soon be bringing out robots capable of cooking and cleaning and caring for people — but even if that was true, it couldn't keep you company the way a real person could.
That was for the future, however; for today, for right now, Grandma was sat enthroned in a huge armchair — a powered one with a little dust engine under the cushions to help her get up out of it — her rheumy eyes glued to the television. A little round robot was quietly vacuuming the carpet, dancing effortlessly around the legs of Grandma, Lavender, and even Prim as she walked in.
"Hey, Grandma," Prim said, kneeling down next to her as she placed the bowl of banana and yoghurt between her grandmother's hands. "I made you something." Unfortunately, Grandma's teeth weren't up to chewing very much, and certainly nothing with too much substance to it.
"Thank you, child," Grandma said.
Prim glanced at the television; it didn't look like there was anything happening, she couldn't see anything, but she didn't know what to expect. "Has it started?"
"No, no," Grandma said. "Miss Weiss hasn't led her team out onto the field yet. You've still got time."
Prim nodded. "Are you going to be okay eating that?"
"I'm gonna be fine," Grandma said, slightly irritably. "Just enjoy the fight."
Prim shook her head. "I wonder if she realises that you're cheering for her."
Or if she appreciates it if she does know.
XxXxX
I am the granddaughter of a hero.
I was not born guilty of my father's crimes.
Weiss opened her eyes and put one hand upon the hilt of her rapier. "Is everyone ready?" she asked.
Cardin was visibly impatient, shifting from one foot to the other, rolling his shoulders. "I'm ready," he said.
Russel was scratching his knuckles. "Ready."
Flash was frozen, still, stiff, utterly without movement; beneath his gilded helmet, his face was pale. "I'm ready," he whispered.
Weiss nodded. She paused, breathing in and out, her chest rising and falling. She didn't know exactly how the crowd would react to them, but she doubted they would cheer too loudly.
It fell to her, then, to supply the encouragement that the crowd would not.
"I want you all to remember something," Weiss said. "We're here for us. Not for them, for us. Ignore the crowd, ignore everyone outside of this arena, ignore anyone who might be watching, ignore whatever they say. We're here for us, and we're the only ones who matter, us and our opponents.
"I'm not going to tell you that this battle will be easy. Our opponents are—"
"Windbags," Cardin said.
"Are huntresses," Weiss corrected him. "They are students of one of Remnant's most prestigious academies, just like us. They have trained, just as we have. They are motivated, just as we are. They will fight skillfully to achieve victory.
"But we have skill of our own. We are more coordinated than they realise, more skilled than they realise, more motivated than they realise. And we have a plan."
"We do?" asked Russel.
"When the fighting begins, I will provide support to the rest of you with my glyphs," Weiss declared. "None of you have to worry about covering me — I can take care of myself — but in the initial stage, you will advance, and I will provide all necessary support to you. Once I see who is exposed to multiple opponents, I will come to your assistance as soon as the situation on the battlefield allows — rest assured, I won't leave any of you hanging. I may not be leading you from the front, but you can all count on me.
"However we started out, we've shown that we can work together as a team. So long as we continue to do so, then we will win, I'm sure of it."
Cardin nodded. "Sure we will."
"We're with you, Weiss," Flash added.
Weiss smiled slightly at him. "I know." She breathed in deeply, and then sighed. "Shall we go, then?"
"Better had, or they'll start to wonder where we are," Russel said, a grin flitting across his face.
Weiss nodded. "Remember: it doesn't matter what they think of us. Heads held high."
"It doesn't matter what we think, but show them that we don't care?" Russel asked.
"Of course," Weiss replied. "I don't see the contradiction."
Russel hesitated for a moment. "Okay," he said. "Sure, why not. Lead the way, boss."
Weiss turned upon her toes and kept her hand upon the hilt of Myrtenaster as she led her team out of the tunnel and into the arena.
"Team Wisteria of Beacon!" Professor Port cried as they emerged out of the shadow and into the light, but as much as he tried to inject some enthusiasm into his voice, the professor was half-drowned out by the booing — most prominently from the Shade part of the audience, but not completely absent anywhere — that fell like rain down upon them.
Weiss ignored it. Weiss tried to ignore it. She wished that she could stop up her ears with cotton wool so that she could not hear them booing her, jeering at her, hurling down their curses and their aspersions at her.
I have done nothing wrong. You cannot bring me down.
I will not allow myself to be brought down by the likes of you.
Team WWSR reached the centre of the arena and lined up there, facing—
"Team Indigo of Shade!"
The names of the members of Team NDGO appeared on the board, with a portrait to go along with every name for reference.
Nebula Violette was taller than Weiss — not, unfortunately, that that was particularly difficult — but more or less of a height with all four of her teammates; her skin was lightly tanned, her eyes were olive, and her hair was indigo and brushed across her head onto the left side of her face in a rough wave descending downwards. She wore a modest metal breastplate, so small that it only covered her breasts, over a grey shirt with a high collar, and over her shirt, she wore a lilac jacket with the left sleeve rolled up to reveal the black leather vambrace she was wearing around her wrist. Upon her right shoulder, she wore a grey metal pauldron, her pants and boots alike were dark grey, and similarly, dark grey fingerless gloves enclosed both hands. She was holding it behind her back, making it just a little difficult to see, but it seemed that in her hands she held a crossbow of a dark grey, almost black metal.
Dew Gayl was the tallest member of her team, although there was not much in it, and like her leader, she had a light tan typical of the Vacuans; her eyes were a striking violet, and her hair was a light, sandy brown, worn long past her shoulder but swept entirely to the left side where it fell in rolling waves like sand dunes stretching far away. She was armoured in a bodysuit of golden scales that covered her neck and her entire left arm, but left her right arm bare, protected only by a bronze pauldron on her shoulder, fastened across her body by golden chains. Over her scales, she wore a forest green dress with shoulder straps and a sweetheart neckline, with a sash of lighter green tied around her waist. On her right arm, she wore a golden armband above the elbow, and various bracelets and bangles of gold stacked up on her right wrist, while on her left hand and wrist, she wore what was still called a 'slave band' a ring linked by chains to a bracelet around her arm. On her legs, she wore more scales, as armoured stockings this time, with brazen greaves upon her legs. In her hands, she gripped an ornate golden spear with a long shaft and a broad head and a green wind dust crystal set just below the head.
Gwen Darcy was the shortest member of Team NDGO, with that Vacuan tan about her skin and black hair which she wore in curls falling down behind her head to the nape of her neck. Her eyes were brown, but did not seem entirely so because of the purple eyeshadow that she was wearing. She wore a light grey top with a collar of deeper grey and sleeves of black lace that covered just below her elbows; over the top, she wore a black corset dress, the corset hugging her figure tightly up to the bust, while the knee-length skirt spread out in an A-line in all directions, with petticoats of a rich, deep purple just above visible beneath it. She wore a sash of purple around her waist, tied into a bow at the back of the waist, and from her sash, she hung, on either side, a pair of armoured tassets. Of weapons, Weiss could see no sign.
Octavia Ember was the fairest member of the opposing team, with olive eyes and brick red hair left long and loose, hanging down beyond and over her shoulders, with only a slight fringe swept to the right across her forehead. She wore a brown top with a tailed teal waistcoat over it and a short, sleeveless teal jacket over that. Her underskirt was creamy white and somewhat short — it didn't reach her knees — the overskirt was brown and left a slit down the front to better view the underskirt. A pair of banded spaulders protected both her shoulders. Around her neck was clasped a sky-blue choker. She held a long knife in one hand, a slender bladed, crooked dagger with red markings like flames winding their way up the blade, growing narrower the closer it came to the point.
The two teams faced one another.
A smirk crossed Nebula's face. "Weiss Schnee, huh? We are honoured, aren't we, girls?"
Russel rolled his eyes. "Any chance we can skip the trash talk, loves? It's all been done before, hasn't it?"
"Do you want to be spared the cliches?" asked Dew. "Or spared your feelings?"
"I bet that you imagined this moment, didn't you, Miss Schnee?" Nebula asked.
"My name is Weiss," Weiss muttered stiffly.
"Yeah, but that's not what your Atlas bootlickers call you, is it?" Nebula responded. "I've heard them: yes, Miss Schnee; no, Miss Schnee; can I sharpen your sword for you, Miss Schnee." She spat on the ground next to her. "You've got them all wrapped around your little finger. Or you used to. Like I said, I bet you had this whole thing imagined in your mind, but you could never imagine that you could walk in here and the crowd would be on our side."
"I bet you could hardly imagine the crowd would be on your side either," Russel muttered.
"It took long enough," Nebula went on, "but finally, the world sees your family for what it is."
"My family?" Weiss squawked. "My family raised Remnant out of the mud and mire to build civilisation—"
"Your family stood on the backs of our people," Nebula said, "and never cared whose backs broke beneath your weight."
"Weiss isn't her father or her family," Flash said.
"No, but she has their name," Nebula said. "And what was that dress, that weapon, that tiara paid for but with blood money?"
Weiss' grip on Myrtenaster tightened somewhat. "I am more than a name," she said, "as you will soon discover."
"We're in trouble now, girls," Octavia said.
The images representing the different environments appeared, a beeping sound alerting the two teams as the options began to cycle, rotating in and out of view faster and faster until two biomes were selected and began to rise out of the depths of the arena.
Behind Team NDGO arose a savanna of tall grass, taller than most people, and a single crooked tree rising out of the grass; behind Team WWSR, there rose a rocky field, dotted with pools of water and intermittently erupting geysers leaping loudly into the air.
"Three!" cried Doctor Oobleck.
Russel twirled his dust daggers in his hands.
"Two!" cried Professor Port.
Cardin hefted his mace, Executioner, in both hands, bringing it up and then down again upon his open palm as though he were testing the weight for the first time.
"One!" yelled Doctor Oobleck.
Flash settled into a fighting stance, shield held before him, Caliburn in spear mode at the ready.
"Begin!"
Now, Gwen revealed her weapons. Like a magician pulling something out of her sleeve, she produced six throwing knives from out of her spaulders, throwing them towards the members of Team WWSR.
Weiss took a step forward, flourishing Myrtenaster as she drew it from her waist and pointed it towards Gwen, and as she pointed it, she conjured up four black glyphs before her and her three teammates. Gwen's knives struck the glyphs and rebounded backwards off them — although not hard enough to fly back towards the members of Team NDGO who had, in any case, already begun to retreat.
As Gwen's knives clattered to the ground, the Shade students melted away into the long grass of the savannah.
Russel took a step forward after them.
"Hold!" Weiss commanded.
Russel came to a stop, looking at her.
"They want us to follow them," Weiss went on. She was fairly certain that she had divined NDGO's plan: lure Team WWSR into the long grass where they would be unable to see one another, still less support one another, and they could be defeated in detail by the superior — in their own minds, at least — Vacuan warriors.
Obviously, Weiss was disinclined to simply give them what they wanted.
"Okay," Cardin said. "But what do we do?"
Weiss hesitated for a moment, thinking. They needed to flush NDGO out.
And she thought she knew how.
"Stay where you are for now," she said, "but get ready."
Weiss flowed fluidly into a high guard, Myrtenaster raised up to eye level and drawn back for a strike, and as she raised the blade, Weiss cycled through the cartridges of dust she had loaded until she had yellow lightning Dust chambered.
She raised her hand, pointing out towards the long grass, and behind her, she conjured up a row of six blue-white glyphs, turning slowly in the air.
Weiss' ice blue eyes narrowed. "On second thought, you might want to give me a little more room," she said as she opened fire, brilliant white bolts of energy leaping from the centre of her glyphs to land amongst the long grass in a barrage of fire to smoke outtheir adversaries.
That, at least, was Weiss' plan and hope, that her assault would so discomfort Team NDGO, would make their position so untenable, that they would be compelled to emerge and offer battle in the open.
Her bolts of energy flowed into the grass, and Weiss could see them striking the ground, see dust and grass alike leaping up into the air, and if the cry of alarm hadn't told Weiss that she'd hit someone, the drop in Gwen's aura would have.
But it was not a great drop, nothing like enough to put her out of the match and not, it seemed, enough to draw Team NDGO out of their concealment.
Weiss kept firing. The drain upon her aura from each glyph was very minor indeed; she was consuming more dust than aura at present.
But when the lightning dust ran out, well…
A crossbow quarrel erupted out of the long grass, flying straight towards her; Flash pushed her aside, knocking Weiss to the ground — accidentally, she was sure — and took the quarrel upon his shield, Rho Aias. The missile skittered off the shield and skidded along the ground to Cardin's feet; he kicked it away contemptuously.
Flash looked down at Weiss on the floor. "Sorry," he said, "I—"
"It's the thought that counts," Weiss told him as she scrambled back onto her feet.
"Speaking of thought," Cardin said, as he and Russel made their way over to join the other two, "I don't think they want to come out and play."
"Mmm," Weiss murmured. "So it would seem." She paused, and as she paused she cycled Myrtenaster's dust cylinders until she landed on red fire dust. "Loath as I am to straight up copy another student, we are being left with little choice."
She took three steps forward ahead of her teammates, towards the long grass, before she thrust her slender blade forwards, point angled slightly towards the ground.
Fire spat from the rapier's tip, and a line of fire raced along the surface of the central hexagon towards the long grass, which looked dry and yellow.
It began to burn at once, flames and smoke alike rising as they spread outwards.
Now they would see how long NDGO could remain there.
Weiss saw the grass move, saw the tips of the long yellow stalks, barely visible, rustle and sway, before the great gust of wind burst out of the grass to slam into Weiss. Weiss conjured a black glyph in front of her like a windbreak in the split second before she was blasted back into the geyser field, but she could still hear the wind howling around her, feel it gusting through her ponytail as its claws curled around the edges of her glyph — and she could feel the heat of the flames all around her as her own fire was blown back at her with much increased intensity, her simple line of flames roused to an inferno. Weiss conjured up more black glyphs to ward and shield her, but she still felt the heat, and felt the sweat mounting upon her brow.
Weiss closed her eyes, cycling from fire dust to green wind dust of her own, dropping her glyphs in the same moment she swept her sword in a wide arc before her, meeting wind with wind as she sought to turn the fire back upon Team NDGO.
The winds of the east and west strive against one another, with the fire trapped between them, both blowing on the flames, seeking to turn them this way or that.
Instead … they blew the fires out like birthday candles, leaving nothing but scorch marks on the ground and a few smouldering patches and grass that was either burnt out or blown down by the wind.
Either way, its value as concealment was somewhat reduced. Weiss could see Dew Gayl standing before her, her golden spear gripped tightly in her hands.
Before Weiss could react, the other members of Team NDGO charged out of cover, Gwen leading the way, throwing her knives before her.
Weiss conjured more black glyphs to protect herself and her teammates from the blades — how many knives did she have? It was so unfair that disposal weapons were an exception to the limitations — as Nebula and Octavia followed her.
Weiss had planned to hang back and support her teammates with her semblance; instead, she found herself in the front line, with the enemy team descending upon her.
Russel was the first to come to her aid, spinning through the air in a whirl — his semblance was not particularly versatile, but it could come in handy in the right circumstances — to slam into Gwen Darcy and knock her sideways. The Shade student rolled to her feet, daggers glinting in her hands, and then the two of them were locked in combat, daggers clashing with the ring of steel.
Flash planted himself in front of Weiss, Rho Aias held before him, Caliburn drawn back. Nebula — whose crossbow had converted, somewhat crudely in Weiss' view, into an arming sword by virtue of the arms drawing back and a blade emerging — and Octavia hesitated, standing off warily.
Neither made any move to intercept Cardin as he rushed at Dew, swinging his mace at her two-handed.
Dew took the blow upon the head of her spear and parried it, sweeping Executioner down towards the ground even as she struck Cardin on the face with the butt. Cardin growled as his head snapped back and sideways but retaliated with a backhand blow with his left hand that sent Dew reeling. She recoiled, parrying another stroke from Executioner before sweeping Cardin's legs out from underneath him.
"Flash, go help Cardin," Weiss ordered.
"But—"
"I'll be fine," Weiss informed him. "I've got this."
She had expected to enrage Nebula and Octavia, and she wasn't disappointed by the furious scowl on Octavia's face.
"Cocky, aren't you?"
Weiss smiled. "Prove me wrong, if you can."
Flash broke off, running to support Cardin, who was trying to avoid Dew's spear long enough to get up. Neither Nebula or Octavia made any move to stay him; their attention was fixed on Weiss.
Weiss tucked her off hand behind her back and assumed a classical duelling stance, side on, Myrtenaster at the ready in a low guard.
"Dance with me, then," she said softly. "I await your pleasure."
Nebula and Octavia shared a glance; then they attacked, like trained hounds leaping on the noble stag together. Weiss stepped forward to meet them, her sword a silver streak as she lunged at Nebula. Nebula parried, trying to beat Weiss' sword away. Octavia thrust at her, but Weiss pirouetted gracefully to parry her stroke away in turn. Nebula hacked downwards at her with a two-handed stroke, but Weiss danced nimbly backwards and let the sword descend before her before she countered, Myrtenaster leaping forth to strike a touch.
Octavia slashed at the air, a ribbon of flame flying from her crooked knife, but Weiss raised her free hand to conjure up a glyph that kept the flames at bay. She kept the glyph there, a shield between her and Octavia as she focussed upon Nebula.
A glyph of shimmering, shining, brilliant white appeared beneath Weiss's feet, then another behind her, and two mote in front of her, towards Nebula. Weiss glided on these glyphs, back and forth, sliding forward to thrust at Nebula, then retreating before she could counterattack. Her strokes did not always land — Nebula was able to parry her as often as not, their blades clashing a swift succession of strokes and counterstrokes — but Nebula was not once able to hit her either, and Weiss could see the frustration mounting on her opponent's face.
Octavia worked her way around to join Nebula directly facing Weiss, and Weiss released all her glyphs.
Once more, Octavia unleashed a ribbon of fire in Weiss' direction, and once more, Weiss blocked it with a black glyph. The two attacked together, nearly shoulder to shoulder, barely an inch between them. That was advantageous for Weiss in some respects — she did not have to move much to parry the both of them — but less so in others, since they could not easily be separated, and Weiss found herself on the backfoot, driven backwards towards the geyser field, where the columns of hot water hissed aggressively as they rose upwards.
As she parried first Octavia, then Nebula, Weiss risked a glance up at the board: the honours were just about even between Russel and Gwen — she couldn't guess which of them would run out of aura first — but Flash and Cardin were wearing Dew down.
If she could win without losing any of her team, that would be quite an accomplishment, would it not? "Cardin!" Weiss shouted, her voice ringing out across the battlefield, "break off and assist Russel." She paused, becoming aware that a look at the aura levels might not give an accurate reflection of the reality that she dare not take her eyes off her own opponent's long enough to gauge. "If practical," she added.
For herself, Weiss was nearly at the edge of the geyser field; she could hear the spouting of the geysers themselves growing ever louder behind her.
At present, she did not see how she could escape being forced into them — except by venturing there willingly.
Weiss took a step back, conjuring a pair of black glyphs to hold back Octavia and Nebula for a second as Weiss turned her back upon them both and ran into the midst of the geysers.
She conjured up white glyphs beneath her feet, using them to plot a path between the geysers, choosing the narrowest passage between the boiling columns and then leaping from glyph to glyph as though they were stepping stones, stepping stones that disappeared as soon as she had left them behind.
She turned, balanced upon a glyph, to see that Nebula and Octavia pursued her, but the path that Weiss had taken was too narrow for them both abreast; they had either to split up and let the geysers come between them or else go one behind the other.
They chose to split up, just as Weiss had hoped they would.
The shining white glyph disappeared from beneath Weiss' feet, and in its place, as Weiss swept Myrtenaster up before her face in a salute-like gesture, appeared a glyph as grey as quicksilver, a glyph on whose smoky form could just about be made out the gears of a clock.
A time dilation glyph.
The world around Weiss slowed, as if everyone but her were trapped in treacle. As the battle moved so slowly around her she could see Cardin about to reach Russel and Gwen, Executioner already drawn back. She could see Flash knocking Dew's spear away with his shield.
And she could see Nebula, alone and vulnerable. Weiss conjured white glyphs, a dozen, a hundred white glyphs all around Nebula, surrounding her all around and above in a dome of brilliant white, while she, it seemed, could only start reacting.
Weiss leapt to the attack, speeding along her glyphs to skewer and knock her — slowly, it seemed — flying. Weiss darted from glyph to glyph, Myrtenaster outstretched to thrust at Nebula from all sides. She came at from the left and right, she hammered her from above, Weiss was as swift as light itself, a streak of light that raced between her glyphs like dawn's light racing across the world, and as she raced, she struck at Nebula again and again and again, she sent her flying up into the air, and still, she struck at her until she could dimly hear, distorted by the slowness of time, a buzzer sound and Professor Port announce Nebula's elimination in words so drawn out that Weiss could barely comprehend them.
The time dilation effect ended, and it was the turn of Weiss to be trapped in treacle. Her limbs were heavy, so heavy that she could barely move them, while everything around her seemed to be moving so fast in comparison, from Nebula falling to the ground to the ribbon of fire that was speeding towards her.
Weiss yelped in pain as the flames struck her, burning away her aura, hurling her sideways and onto the rocks.
Octavia was on her before she could do anything; even as time normalised for her, she was not quick enough to stop the other girl from hitting her across the face with the hilt of her dagger.
The Shade student's face was a mask of fury, teeth bared like a dog as she punched Weiss on the nose, making Weiss' head snap back as she winced. Octavia grabbed Weiss' wrist and twisted Myrtenaster out of her hand, kicking the sword away.
"What's the matter, princess?" Octavia demanded, as she hit Weiss again. "All out of tricks?"
Weiss could conjure glyphs without her sword — some of them, anyway, the basics — but it was a lot harder to do when someone wouldn't stop hitting you. Plus, she'd never been particularly good at unarmed combat. As Octavia grabbed by her ponytail and used it to slam her face into the rock before dragging towards the nearest geyser, that seemed like a significant gap in her skillset.
Weiss beat at Octavia with both hands, but the other girl barely seemed to feel it as she held Weiss's face out over the geyser.
Doctor Oobleck said something, but Weiss wasn't able to make it out as the water erupted up into her face. Gods, it was so hot! She could feel the scalding heat through her aura, even as she could feel it burning away her aura, the combination of intense heat and immense pressure tearing away her shield like … like dirt being scrubbed off some silverware.
It occurred to Weiss that if her aura broke before the geyser stopped spouting, there was a trap chance she might…
Thankfully, before she'd had much chance to contemplate that, the geyser did stop, and Weiss was left with the knowledge that she had not yet been eliminated.
How long that would last, she couldn't say.
Octavia slammed her down onto the rocks, the impact sending a shockwave through Weiss' aura.
She raised her knife.
Russel yelled wordlessly as he dropped upon them both, holding Flash's Caliburn in spear form in both hands, thrust out in front of him like a lancing thunderbolt.
Octavia stepped back, letting Russel land between her and Weiss. Russel waved the spear wildly, swinging with untutored enthusiasm that was nonetheless sufficient to get Octavia to give ground.
Cardin closed with her from behind, wrapping his arms around Octavia to grip her in a bear hug, lifting her up despite her struggling and flinging her into a nearby geyser just as it erupted.
The water blasted her upwards, shredding her aura before dumping her back down in the central hexagon.
"Octavia Ember has been eliminated by aura depletion," Professor Port cried. "And with that, Team Indigo has been completely eliminated. Team Wisteria takes the match!"
"We…" Weiss looked up at the board. There were crosses covering the faces of all four members of Team NDGO. "I didn't—"
"You were a little preoccupied there at the end," Flash said as he offered her a hand to help. "But yeah: we got them."
"And a good thing too, while we were still in time to rescue you," Russel said.
"Although it would have been a lot harder without you keeping those two busy," Flash pointed out.
"Maybe," Russel admitted. "But we still rescued her."
"Yes," Weiss agreed. "And I am very grateful, thank you." A smile blossomed upon her face. "We won. We won!" She jumped for joy as though she were a child again who had just mastered her first glyph. "We won!"
She couldn't hear the crowd. She genuinely couldn't hear them; their sound didn't reach her ears. What they thought, how vehemently they booed, it didn't matter to her.
She had won. They had won.
And that was all that mattered.
XxXxX
Lieutenant Martinez leaned back on the sofa, a slightly smug look in her face as she spread out her arms.
"You look like a proud parent," Mike observed.
"I am a proud parent," Martinez replied.
"I know you are," Mike said. "But they're not your kids."
"No, of course they're not," she said. "But they did well, and I don't know if I had anything to do with it, but … I'm proud of 'em anyway." The approving smile on her face grew broader. "Yeah, they did damn well."
XxXxX
Weiss had said that it didn't matter what the crowd, or anyone, thought. She had said that all that mattered was their own pride in themselves, that they fought the fight and they won it.
She had said all of that, and she had meant it.
But when she led her team back into the tunnel, to see Blake waiting for her, and Rainbow Dash, and Team SAPR, and they had been making the tunnel echo with their applause, well…
Shining Armor stiffened to attention as General Ironwood appeared in the entrance to Cadance's private box. Her security detail made way for him as he stepped inside.
General Ironwood received Shining Armor's salute and then returned it. "Captain Armor, it's good to see you again."
"Likewise, sir."
"How's guarding the Council?"
"It … continues to be a great honour, sir."
The corner of General Ironwood's mouth turned upwards ever so slightly. "I'll bet it is."
"General Ironwood," Cadance said, as she herself rose to her feet. "Thank you so much for joining us."
"Yes, General," Kali said, "thank you so much for joining us." She had not, Cadance noted, risen to her feet.
Cadance cleared her throat. "General Ironwood, allow me to present Lady Kali Belladonna, wife of Ghira Belladonna and, thus, High Chieftainess of Menagerie. Kali—"
"This is the great General Ironwood, who needs no introduction," Kali said, her voice soft and her tone somewhat unclear. From where she sat, slightly twisted around in her seat, she extended one arm out towards him.
But if General Ironwood was at all discomfited by it, he did not show it; he stepped forward, bowing as he himself reached out and took Kali's hand, raising it almost, but not quite, to his lips. "A pleasure, ma'am."
"Hmm," Kali murmured.
General Ironwood straightened up, turning a few inches in Cadance's direction. "Councillor, I would say that I came as soon as my duties permitted, but the truth is that I did watch that last match, if only out of a sense of what might have been."
"'What might have been'?" Kali asked. "What might have been if young Weiss Schnee had attended Atlas instead of Beacon, I suppose?"
General Ironwood. "And Mister Sentry too, another Atlesian from a good family; but yes, Miss Schnee. Her sister Winter is one of my most promising young officers; I don't mind admitting that I would have liked to have gotten her sister as well."
"Perhaps Jacques Schnee felt that you'd collected enough of his children," Kali said. "It might be one area in which I could understand his point of view."
"Kali—"
"With respect, Councillor, the point is … a reasonable one," General Ironwood said, raising one hand to stifle any objections that Cadance might make. He clasped his hands behind his back. "Belladonna told you that she's transferring to Atlas next year."
"Blake told me, yes," Kali said.
"Then I'm sure, ma'am, that she didn't tell you that I pushed her into it in any way," General Ironwood said. "I'm sure that she didn't tell you that because it didn't happen, and Belladonna isn't a liar."
"No," Kali admitted. "No, Blake … but nevertheless, can you perhaps understand my concerns? Do you have any children of your own, General?"
General Ironwood became very still and very quiet. Even when he spoke, it was barely more than a whisper. "I … I had two children, ma'am: a son and a daughter."
Kali blinked. "'Had'?"
"My son … passed away, a couple of years ago."
Kali's golden eyes widened a little, her mouth forming an open O of shocked surprise. "I … I'm so sorry, General, I … it wasn't my intent to stir up harmful … I can't imagine what that must have been like."
"It's quite alright, ma'am," General Ironwood replied, his voice becoming a little louder, but also stiffer, like an old tree that might crack under strong winds because it no longer had the ability to bend. "You were hardly to know."
"And…" Kali paused a moment. "And your daughter?"
"Gone to Anima," General Ironwood said. "I … haven't heard from her in some time."
"Ah," Kali murmured. "Well, that … that is something that I understand very well. You have my deepest sympathies, General, and my hope that, one day, your daughter's best friend will reach out to you behind her back in the way that Rainbow Dash reached out to me."
General Ironwood's eyebrows rose. "Dash did? Behind Belladonna's back?"
"The wording makes it sound perhaps a little more malicious than it was," Kali replied. "But yes, Rainbow Dash wrote me a very fine letter, and did so without telling Blake about it. For which I am very grateful; I fear that if it had been left to Blake, then either fear or stubbornness would have prevented her from ever making contact."
General Ironwood almost smiled. "Dash has a good heart," he said as he walked around the row of seats until he was standing over and in front of Kali, so that she didn't need to twist her body around to look at him anymore. "A good heart, a strong heart, a brave heart. I'm afraid that if I need to wait for Aska to find a friend like that in Mistral who will reach out to me on her behalf, I might be waiting a long time; there aren't that many like Dash around."
Kali smiled. "You're fond of her."
"I wouldn't speak to her like that for fear of making her head swell," General Ironwood replied. "But yes, ma'am, I am very fond of her."
"Then you must have been very pleased and impressed by her performance in the match a little while ago," Kali said. "She did you proud."
"All of my students have done me proud today, even the ones who didn't quite manage to clinch victories," General Ironwood declared. "But you're right, Dash and her team were very impressive. And so was Belladonna."
"Yes," Kali said, "yes, Blake was marvellous, wasn't she?" She looked up at General Ironwood. "Would you like to sit down, General? If only for the sake of my neck."
General Ironwood sat. "You'd rather Blake stayed at Beacon with Team Iron, ma'am?"
"A part of me would rather that she wasn't a huntress of any kind," Kali admitted. "It's a worthy cause, I know, but … her father and I never set out to raise a warrior, although the extent to which we can be said to have raised Blake at all can be unfortunately debated." She paused. "Blake speaks very highly of Atlas, and of her Atlas comrades. More fondly than I might expect."
"Then you know that they deserve every good word that Blake has to say about them, and more," General Ironwood said.
Kali was quiet for a moment, but her golden eyes twinkled a little. She spoke softly but clearly as she said, "I'm beginning to suspect that you have a lot more than just two children, General Ironwood."
General Ironwood made a sound that was somewhere between a chuckle and a snort. "Well, ma'am, I … I make no apologies for being proud of my kids. If I wasn't, I'd only have myself to blame for not teaching them better." It was his turn to pause. "Coming to Atlas is Belladonna's choice, not mine."
"But you welcome her presence," Kali said.
"I welcome all talented students who wish to come to Atlas," General Ironwood said. "And Belladonna is very, very talented."
"You talk almost as if you did nothing to seek her out," Kali said. "You got her out of jail, you brought her into your fold—"
"We needed her assistance," General Ironwood reminded her. "I think that Dash might have had some longer term plan for Belladonna, but for my part, I never laid any obligation on her, and I didn't envisage where this road would take her when we set off down it."
"So what you're telling me is that this Rainbow Dash's fault, not yours?"
"I'm telling you that this is Belladonna's choice," General Ironwood said.
"Mhmm," Kali murmured. "Blake has always made her own choices, whether I agreed with them or not."
"What is it, in particular, that you disapprove of?" General Ironwood asked. "Atlas, military service, or something else?"
Kali was silent for a moment. "Honestly … I'm not sure that I could say. Certainly … I'm sorry, General, this isn't your fault, and I can't even say that … as you say, Blake's made her choice, and I'm prepared to live with it. She wants to be a huntress, and I have to accept that. If she also wants to be an Atlesian soldier as well, then … as the wife of a high chieftain, I can hardly get on any anti-authority horse, can I? I suppose … I suppose I'm a little upset that she decided without talking to me about it, although, of course she didn't talk to me about it; I wasn't here."
"The fact that there is a good explanation doesn't make it any easier," General Ironwood murmured.
"No," Kali said. "No, it doesn't, does it?" She sighed. "She's not going to be a trophy for you, is she? You're not going to put her on a metaphorical shelf somewhere so that you can point to Blake Belladonna, daughter of a former leader of the White Fang, proof that you and Atlas aren't racist?"
"I'm going to put Belladonna in school with all of my other students," General Ironwood said, "and when she graduates, I'm going to put her to work with all of my other specialists. I don't have propaganda soldiers, I don't have trophies; I have brave kids who are willing to offer up their guns in the service of Atlas."
Shining Armor coughed, "Well, sir—"
"You've nothing to be ashamed of, Captain Armor," General Ironwood said.
"I don't understand," Kali said.
"My husband's position guarding the Council keeps him out of the field," Cadance explained. "I fear General Ironwood has just made him feel meanly of himself."
"For no reason," General Ironwood insisted. "It's a job that has to be done."
Kali glanced Shining Armor's way. "I don't suppose there's any way that Blake…" She trailed off. "No, no, that … Blake wouldn't want me to interfere and she certainly wouldn't want a position like that."
"No," General Ironwood agreed. "I don't think she would."
Kali was quiet for a moment. "All of this is, to some extent, reassuring, General, but … it really never occurred to you that having someone with the Belladonna name in your forces would be a fillip for Atlas?"
"Despite having two seats on the Council, ma'am, I'm more than content to leave politics to the politicians," General Ironwood said.
Kali chuckled. "Is that so, General? Then perhaps I should redirect my question to Cadance?"
"I would never presume to interfere in General Ironwood's running of the military," Cadance said as she sat down on the other side of Kali, "but, at the same time, I'm very glad that Blake's involvement provided an opportunity for us to meet like this." Now it was Cadance's turn to pause. "Efforts to help the faunus within Atlas are often slow, and made slower by vested interests and, I have to admit, a certain indifference from some who live amongst the clouds for the lives of those who live on the ground below. It can sometimes take a big impact, like the discoveries that Blake and Rainbow Dash made around those secret SDC facilities, to cause a shift in public opinion that opens up space for radical action. But, when it comes to diplomacy … there is less popular interest in foreign policy, and so there is more room to act without constant reference to the opinion of a public that doesn't really hold strong views either way. It isn't ideal, but I think that Atlas may be able to help Menagerie more easily than we can help our own faunus living in Mantle or Low Town."
"Help Menagerie how?" asked Kali.
"That depends," Cadance replied. "What does Menagerie want?"
"We do we want?" Kali repeated. "Oh, I could give you a list if you have time for it, but to start with, Menagerie wants admission into the family of kingdoms. We're not some out-of-the-way backwater that you can forget about; we have as much claim to be regarded as a kingdom as Atlas, Mistral, Vale, or Vacuo. What makes Vacuo a kingdom that Menagerie does not possess? Unlike the four kingdoms, we actually have someone who might with justice be called a king. We want recognition, we want to be able to trade freely with our neighbours, and we want to be able to talk to our neighbours as well; we want a CCT tower. Can Atlas give us that?"
"I don't see why not, since it was Atlas who gave the network to the four kingdoms in the first place," Cadance replied. "General, can you think of any reason why a fifth tower could not be built in Menagerie?"
"I'm not a technician, Councillor, so I couldn't say for certain," General Ironwood replied. "I know that the CCT system was designed to work with four towers, but whether that means that it's impossible to add more … personally, I'd welcome a fifth tower; it would mean that one of the towers could go offline without the whole system dropping out. I can certainly have it looked into."
"You can have it…" Kali trailed off. "You … you're serious?"
"I was asked a serious question; I gave a serious answer," General Ironwood said.
"And you," Kali said, turning to Cadance. "You're serious?"
"Why shouldn't I be?" asked Cadance.
"Because…" Kali stared at her for a moment. "Why?"
"Because this is something that I can do, while there are other things that I would like to do which I cannot," Cadance admitted. "Because, as I told you, there is sometimes more latitude in foreign affairs. Because Atlas has a moral obligation, conferred on us by our wealth and strength alike, to show a leadership that is both moral and practical and … not always exercised by us as it should be. And because you're right; there is nothing that sets Menagerie apart from the four kingdoms — the other four kingdoms — except that the four kingdoms themselves act as though it should be so. Why shouldn't Menagerie have a CCT Tower? Why shouldn't Menagerie have a huntsman academy, why shouldn't there be teams from that academy fighting in the Vytal Festival, right here and now, for our entertainment?"
"Because the Last King of Vale didn't like Menagerie," Kali said. "He didn't agree with the plans of Mistral to deport their faunus — it is hard to condemn him for that; many faunus didn't like it either — he wanted the faunus to be treated as equals within the kingdoms, not sent away to somewhere else entirely. That was not immoral of him, but the way that he wasn't able to see that some faunus might actually wish to live in their own land, away from men, the way that he acted as though if Menagerie were ignored and excluded, it would eventually go away … he was a great man, without doubt, but he erred greatly in that."
"And a man who has been dead for many years," Cadance said. "Why should we be bound forevermore by his disapproval? Menagerie is a fact, and how can we claim to treat the faunus as equals while treating the homeland of the faunus as inferior to majority-human kingdoms? If Menagerie wishes to join the international community, then I will do all I can to open up the doors."
Kali nodded. "That would be … incredible, but I'm afraid that there are some in Menagerie or amongst the faunus who won't see it the same way."
"The White Fang," Cadance murmured.
"Obviously, but not just them," Kali said. "I wouldn't worry about the White Fang; Sienna will huff and puff, but she won't start a fight in Menagerie—"
"Can you be certain about that?" General Ironwood asked.
"I can, actually, seeing as I live there," Kali replied, with a touch of asperity in her voice. "Certainly, we wouldn't need Atlesian troops deployed to secure the CCT tower. That would do more for instability than anything Sienna Khan might say or do, no … the White Fang is popular on Menagerie; it's seen as a group that is fighting for our people and their rights. But, crucially, that support is based on them fighting for our people and their rights somewhere far away from Menagerie and those who support them. That support is broad, yes, but not deep, and if Sienna chooses to start shooting or setting off bombs in Menagerie, then she'll soon find out just how shallow the sea of her support is. She's not so much a fool. No, the White Fang is not the issue; the issue is the fear that some will have — the fear that I share, to some extent — that if we step through the doors that you offer to open, we'll be opening our own doors to exploitation by the SDC."
"I didn't realise there was dust in Menagerie," Cadance said.
Kali nodded. "In the interior. Between the hostile environment and a lack of heavy mining equipment, we haven't had much luck getting it out of the ground, but we're pretty sure it's there. Faunus who came to Menagerie from the mines of Mantle were convinced of it, and dreamt of extracting it for their own benefit, to no avail."
Cadance was silent for a moment. "Then perhaps," she said, "it is time for that dream, too, to come of age."
Kali's eyebrows rose. "Why … why would an Atlesian—?"
"Recent events," Cadance said, with a sigh in her voice, "have unfortunately demonstrated that the Schnee Dust Company is not only a far poorer standard bearer for Atlas than could have been guessed, but also that it may not even be a reliable partner for Atlas. A company in which the CEO is unaware of what several of his own board members are doing is … as I say, it isn't very reliable." Cadance paused for a moment. "Perhaps the time has come to try a new approach."
XxXxX
All the skybuses down from the arena were adorned with festive bunting on the outside, flags in green, blue, white, and yellow adorning all of the airships that ferried the contestants and the crowds alike between the arena and the grounds of Beacon below.
Including the airship that Team SAPR was on, bringing them back after the end of Team WWSR's victory over Team NDGO.
It was crowded. The airship that had brought them up here had been crowded, and the one that was bringing them back was crowded too. No doubt, when Sunset came back again to watch Team TTSS, then that would be crowded, and it would still be crowded when Team SAPR took the skybus back to the arena for their match.
Pyrrha was beginning to think that there was not a single thing connected with this tournament that was not crowded.
Sunset had hoped that, mid-afternoon as it was, they might catch a flight back that was a little more vacant, but that had proved to be very optimistic of her.
The skybuses were little more than flying boxes, albeit reasonably comfortable flying boxes; there was no pilot, and no one checking tickets either; everything was fully automated — although someone with more mechanical knowhow than Pyrrha might know how to manually override everything in a pinch — programmed to go between the docking pads and the Amity Colosseum at set intervals. The flying box was mostly taken up with row after row of cushioned red seats, in rows eight seats wide, but all of those seats were taken up, and it was standing room only, with people pressed together throughout the skybus right up to the windows.
It was against one of the windows that Pyrrha was standing now, with Sunset on one side of her and Jaune on the other, with Ruby beside him. Turning her head — the only movement she could really make at present — she could see one of the Atlesian cruisers hovering nearby, attended by a small throng of lesser airships looping around it. Beyond that, she could see a Valish destroyer with its guns emerging out of the sloping armour of the hull, and beyond that, compensating with its sheer size for the fact that it was farthest off, one of the giant Mistralian battleships that Vale had purchased to augment its defences.
A flash of light from inside the skybus made her close her eyes for a moment, and Pyrrha looked back inside the airship.
Someone, a bearded and bespectacled man standing up in his seat, lowered his scroll from in front of his face. He did not apologise.
"A bit rude, don't you think?" Sunset demanded.
"Sunset," Pyrrha murmured, fixing a smile upon her face. "Let it go."
"He didn't even ask!" Sunset snapped. "You didn't even ask!"
"Do you ask permission of the painting in the gallery or the statue in the museum before you take a photograph?" Pyrrha asked.
"Actually, I think a lot of art galleries have rules about no pictures," Ruby pointed out. "We got thrown out once because we didn't read the signs."
"Well … yes, I suppose that wasn't a particularly good example," Pyrrha admitted.
"Not least because you're not a painting," Sunset said, "or a statue."
"But I am public property," Pyrrha said softly, speaking out of the side of her mouth as the smile remained fixed upon her face. "We all are. That's what it means to compete in the Vytal Tournament."
Sunset frowned. "It wouldn't have killed him to ask you if it was okay first."
"It is what it is," Pyrrha replied. "The only thing that making a fuss will accomplish is to get a bad reputation. You wouldn't want that, would you?"
Sunset huffed for so long that it almost became a sigh. "I suppose not; that wasn't much fun the first time," she said. "Still…" She trailed off, which Pyrrha took for begrudging admission that she, Pyrrha, was right.
No other flashes went off inside the skybus, but the man who had taken the picture was not the only person inside the airship who was interested in Pyrrha. There were eyes turned her way, and scrolls too; Pyrrha thought it likely that at least one person was filming her, although why they would want to when she was just standing in a skybus waiting to land was rather beyond her.
But they watched her nevertheless, as though even the spectacle of Pyrrha Nikos standing still was a momentous and fascinating one.
She had been a celebrity for many years, arguably since she had been born, and yet, there were still times when she found it to be a very strange world indeed.
She felt Jaune slip his hand into hers, less than a moment before she felt his lips upon her cheek.
The smile upon her face became a little more genuine, even as Pyrrha's eyes widened in surprise just a tad as she turned her head to look at him.
Jaune grinned sheepishly as he shrugged. "Well, if they were going to look anyway, I thought … give them something worth looking at?"
Pyrrha's eyebrows rose. "Oh, really?"
"Well, I—"
Pyrrha reached out with her free hand, wrapping it around Jaune's neck, her fingers in her long, floppy hair, as she leaned forwards, her body pressing against his, and kissed him fully on the lips.
Her eyes were closed, but nevertheless, she could see the light of the flashes going off; they would leave blotches of blue and green in her vision when she opened her eyes, but Pyrrha found she really didn't care.
No, she didn't care one bit.
"Now that was something worth looking at," Pyrrha said mischievously as she broke off, moving back a little — only a little, as much for practical reasons as emotional ones — from him.
Jaune stared at her, a rich, ripe blush upon his cheeks, his eyes wide. "Yeah," he murmured weakly. "Yeah, I … I guess it probably was." He managed a smile. "Worth … worth it, too."
Sunset sighed, and when Pyrrha looked over her shoulder, she saw their team leader shaking her head.
"I'm not sure that I'd want people watching that," Ruby said.
Pyrrha chuckled. "Sunset's right, Ruby; we aren't statues. If people are going to watch, then let them watch; why should we circumscribe our lives for their benefit? I'm not ashamed to be in love; what do I have to hide?"
"Well, when you put it like that," Ruby murmured. "Good for you guys, I guess."
Pyrrha glanced across the skybus to where Team WWSR was stood against the other side of the airship. There were eyes on Weiss too — and on Rainbow Dash and Blake, who were near the front of their airship, their backs to everyone; although as Pyrrha glanced their way, she saw a little girl wearing a rainbow wig tug on one leg of Rainbow's pants to get her attention — flashes going off in her face, and in the faces of her teammates.
Weiss didn't deal with it by kissing anyone, but she was ignoring everyone taking pictures of her or staring at her; instead, she was deep in conversation with Flash, their faces pressed very close together, almost touching.
Sunset was watching them too. Pyrrha didn't find that particularly strange, but the fact that Sunset was smiling as she watched … that, Pyrrha did find a little odd.
"I…" The smile faded a moment, then returned to Sunset's face. "Well … why wouldn't I?"
"Well…" Pyrrha trailed off.
The smile remained on Sunset's face. "That was all a long time ago, Pyrrha; it's been done a while, and I'm over it." She paused a moment. "Ruby, can you text Penny and ask her if she can stay with Amber for a little while longer?"
"Sure," Ruby said. "But why? Aren't we going to meet up?"
"Not right away," Sunset replied. "First, since it seems that there isn't anywhere else that won't be crowded, we're going to go back to our dorm room, and we're going to plan out our strategy against Team Pastel."
"That will be difficult without knowing the terrain on which we'll be fighting," Pyrrha murmured.
"True," Sunset allowed. "But we can still lay down some ground rules, some principles to guide our approach to the battle." She paused. "I know that you've beaten Phoebe Kommenos every time that you've met her — not that that says too much; you've beaten everyone every time you've met them, but still — but I don't want to underestimate her, and I don't want to underestimate her team, and I especially don't want this team to fall on its tailbone in front of your mother and the whole of Remnant because we breezed into the arena like we had it in the bag. We're going to take this seriously, okay?"
"Right," Jaune said. "Nobody wants to mess this up."
"How much do we know about them?"
"I know some things," Sunset replied. "I'd like to get a second opinion, though. Hey, Rainbow Dash!"
Rainbow looked across the skybus towards them. "Yeah?"
"Can you come with us when we land?" Sunset asked. "I need to pick your brain about something."
Rainbow did, in fact, come with them; when the skybus landed back on the docking pad, they left Blake and Team WWSR behind and moved down the path, passing as swiftly as they could through the heaving crowds until they reached the near-deserted sanctuary of the dormitories, where tourists and visitors were not allowed. Once they were there, it was only a short hop back to the dorm room, which felt quite refreshingly free of people as Pyrrha sat down in the window seat, tucking her red sash over her legs.
Outside her window faced the direction to let her still see the fairgrounds, the packed crowds, and the many available entertainments, and a little of the noise still reached her ears through the windows.
It was little enough, though, that she had no issue with ignoring it and keeping her attention on Sunset.
The latter had gotten a chess set out from underneath her bed — or Amber's bed, considering who was using it presently — taking out a total of eight pieces, four white and four black.
Jaune sat down on his bed, while Ruby grabbed one of the chairs from the desk running against the wall and turned it around so she was facing Sunset.
Rainbow leaned against the door, her fingertips tapping against the wood.
"So, what's up?" she asked. "What do you need my help with?"
"I need your thoughts on Team Pastel," Sunset explained. "Seeing as they're Atlas students."
"Yeah, Atlas students three years above me," Rainbow said. "I'm retaking my first year, but I was never in the same year as Phoebe or her team."
"You've seen them fight though, right?" Sunset asked.
Rainbow nodded. "A little bit. First and second year students are invited to watch some of the upperclassmen combat classes, to gain the benefits of their experience."
"Then you can correct me if I'm getting anything wrong," Sunset said. "Unless your loyalty to Atlas is greater than any bond that we share."
"For some teams, I wouldn't help you," Rainbow said. "If you were up against Tsunami, even Funky, I would be out the door, but Pastel … nah, you can take them out. If Phoebe wants loyalty, she ought to show some once in a while. What do you want to know?"
"I'm just thinking about how we want to approach this," Sunset said. She squatted down on the floor with her chess pieces. "Okay, so the white pieces are us, and the black pieces are Team Pastel." She picked up the first piece, the white queen, and pointed with it towards Pyrrha. "That's Pyrrha." She put down the queen and picked up the white knight. "This is me." Down went the knight, up went the white rook. "This is Jaune, the rook." She put down the white rook and picked up the white bishop. "And this is Ruby." Sunset put down the white bishop. "And for Team Pastel, we have Phoebe Kommenos, the black queen; Mal Sapphire, the black knight; Thorn Hubert, the black rook; and Lycus Silvermane, the black bishop. Is everyone with me so far?"
"Yes," Pyrrha said. "Although, having only ever encountered Phoebe in the arena, those names mean nothing to me."
"Fortunately, I've done some snooping around on that front," Sunset said, "although Rainbow will surely correct me if I'm wrong."
Rainbow grinned. "Surely," she said.
Sunset snorted. A green glow surrounded one of her hands, as she telekinetically lifted up the black queen. "Pyrrha, you've fought her before; what's Phoebe's semblance? I tried to find out, but I couldn't. I know the semblances of her teammates, but not hers."
"How do you know her teammates' semblances?" asked Ruby.
"I asked around," Sunset said. "And I…" She cleared her throat. "I may have spent a little of Lady Nikos' money getting Atlas upperclassmen to talk to me and spill the beans on Team Pastel. A use of which I have no doubt Lady Nikos would approve wholeheartedly."
"Just so long as you didn't bribe any of Team Pastel to throw the match, I'm sure you're right," Pyrrha murmured.
Sunset looked at her. "Pyrrha. Please. I have my pride, and my faith in this team. Anyway, the point is that nobody could — or would — tell me about Phoebe's semblance."
"I'm not surprised; I'm not sure myself," Pyrrha admitted. "Certainly, I've never seen her use it. It may not be of much use in combat."
"Or she's hiding it," Ruby suggested.
"It hasn't done her much good if she's keeping it quiet," Jaune pointed out.
"True," Sunset murmured. "Either way that's … unfortunate, but it is what it is. If she has a semblance that she can use but isn't making much of, that's not something we have to worry about. If it's a non-combat semblance, then again, we don't have to worry about it. If it's something else … there's nothing we can do. Anyway, moving on to her teammates." She levitated the black knight up into the air to join the queen. "Mal Sapphire; her semblance is fire-breathing—"
"It's called Dragonsbreath," Rainbow said.
"Yeah, but it's breathing fire, isn't it?" Sunset replied. "Is she a pyromaniac?"
Rainbow frowned. "I don't think so, why?"
"Because I've heard she lights herself on fire as well," Sunset said.
"It's not like that," Rainbow said. "She sets her cape on fire with dust. You do that too; it doesn't make you a pyromaniac."
"I don't breathe fire as well," Sunset murmured. "But anyway, she fights with a staff—"
"Don't let the dust crystal at the top of her staff fool you," Rainbow said. "She's got seven dust chambers built into that staff and can cycle between them."
Sunset levitated the black rook up to join the queen and the knight. "Thorn Hubert; he's Team Pastel's long range combatant; he's an archer and another one who doesn't make much use of his semblance as far as I could find out."
"My guess is that whatever his semblance is, it isn't much use for a bowman," Rainbow said. "He's a good shot though, and he uses all kinds of trick arrows."
"You mean dust?" asked Ruby.
"Dust, sure," Rainbow said. "But other things too; I once saw him shoot an arrow that burst in mid-air like a Hailstorm missile, and each fragment then exploded when it hit the floor."
"And lastly," Sunset said, as she levitated the final black piece, the bishop, up to join the others, "we have Lycus Silvermane—"
"His first name sounds Mistralian," Pyrrha observed.
"I think he's from Argus," Rainbow said. "Mistralian mom, Atlesian dad. Or the other way around. Or something like that." She paused. "Phoebe pays his way."
"How do you mean?" asked Jaune.
"I mean that the word around Atlas is that when he started out at the academy, he dressed like Sun," Rainbow said, "but now, everything he wears is tailored. She buys his loyalty."
"Let's not rush to cast aspersions, even if it is Phoebe Kommenos," Sunset said quickly, a certain stiffness in her voice. "Just because … maybe she recognises his talent and wishes to nurture it."
"Yes," Pyrrha agreed. "Yes, you may be right."
Clearly, Sunset was not enjoying the comparison, and while it was a ridiculous comparison — nobody paid for Sunset's loyalty, and certainly not Pyrrha's mother — Pyrrha thought that Sunset might rather move on from the subject instead of being reassured upon the subject.
"Why him?" Jaune asked. "Why him specifically?"
"Because he's good," Rainbow replied. "I'd say, having seen the team in action, that he's the best of them. He's not always their vanguard — Phoebe likes to go tip of the spear herself, for bragging — but he's right there beside her. He fights with sickles, although he's pretty good with his fists, and his semblance—"
"Lets him disguise himself as other people," Sunset murmured.
"Yeah," Rainbow agreed. "I don't think he can do it for very long; I saw him use it once, and it drained his aura like you wouldn't believe. Like he had a hole in his bucket. He uses it to throw people off their game."
Sunset nodded. "Having seen them in action, what's your opinion of them as a team?"
"I don't like giving Phoebe any credit," Rainbow muttered, "but she runs a tight ship. She may be an awful person and a poor fighter on her own, but she's got a good team. They've got a good balance of close, medium, and long range, and they all know what they're doing."
"Well, so do I," Sunset muttered. Her brow furrowed. "So, what do we do about this good team that we're up against? Jaune? Anyone?"
Jaune leaned forward, elbows resting on his knee, one hand cupped around his chin. "You say … you say that Phoebe leads?"
Rainbow nodded. "That's right. As far as I've seen, anyway."
"Right," Jaune murmured. He glanced at Pyrrha. "She's going to go after you. Everything points to it. The fact that you're rivals, the fact that you're our best fighter, Mistralian values, it's all there; she's going to go for you. I don't see how she can do anything else."
"I've heard that Team Pastel uses numbers," Sunset said. "They isolate certain members of the opposition, take them out, and then move on."
"I'd say that's fair, from watching them," Rainbow agreed. "From what I've seen, they use Mal Sapphire to block; she keeps the … other members of the enemy team pinned down while Phoebe and Lycus deal with the target."
"And Thorn Hubert?" Jaune asked.
"He can go either way, supporting the Mal or the main thrust; it depends how it goes," Rainbow said.
"So," Sunset said, "if we assume Jaune's right — and he makes a good point — we should expect that Team Pastel will try and isolate Pyrrha and take her out before moving on to the rest of us."
"But we're not going to let that happen, right?" Jaune said.
Sunset grinned. "Come down here and play with these chess pieces while we work out how to stop it."
She put down the black pieces and picked up the white queen, moving it to a position on the carpet a little way away from the others.
"Pyrrha," she said, "on the basis of past actions and cultural mores and … personal grudges, we say that Phoebe and Lycus will go for her, with possible archery support from Thorn." She placed the black queen and black bishop near to the white queen, with the black rook set a little behind them. "I agree that's likely. Thoughts on how to stop it?"
Jaune got up and walked across the room, moving carefully so as not to step on any of the chess pieces. He squatted down opposite Sunset, one hand hovering over the remaining white pieces.
"I'm sure that Pyrrha could take on two opponents," he began.
"That'll get you another kiss later," Sunset muttered, grinning.
"Hey, I'm serious," Jaune said. "But … it would be best if we didn't let them have things their own way. I'll hold off Mal and Lycus; Ruby can take care of Thorn from a distance." He put the white rook and bishop down on the carpet, moving the black knight and bishop further away from the two queens. "While you stick with Pyrrha." He put down the white knight next to the white queen.
Rainbow frowned, but said nothing.
Sunset blinked. "You and Ruby?" she said.
Jaune nodded. "Sure. Why?"
"It's not a bad start," Sunset said. "But you have it backwards in one respect." She swapped the white knight and the white rook around. "You stick with Pyrrha. I'll hold off Mal and Lycus, and like you say, Ruby can take out Thorn."
"Sniper duel?" Ruby asked.
"Sniper duel," Sunset confirmed.
"Are we sure that it's necessary for me to confront Phoebe?" Pyrrha asked. "If this Lycus Silvermane is the best fighter on their team, then perhaps I should seek to oppose him instead?"
"Your fans might prefer another instance of you stomping Phoebe into the ground," Sunset pointed out.
"Are we here to win or to please my fans?" Pyrrha asked.
"Ideally both," Sunset replied. "But I take your point—"
"Except that if Phoebe really wants to fight you—" Jaune began.
"That's no different from her wanting to bring her team to bear on Pyrrha," Ruby said. "We're stopping that; why not stop Phoebe?"
"It could be more awkward, but not impossible," Sunset murmured. "Okay, how is this? Ruby takes care of Thorn; I'll go for Phoebe; Pyrrha, you and Jaune go for Lycus." She started rearranging the chess pieces on the floor: the black rook and the white bishop at opposite ends, far away from one another, the white knight against the black queen, the white queen and rook against the black bishop. Only the black knight remained. Sunset tossed it up and down in her hands. "But what would Mal Sapphire do in that circumstance? Support her leader, or support Lycus?"
"I could … at least delay her," Jaune offered.
"On the logic that our opponents will at least try and swarm Pyrrha, I'd rather have you stay close by her so that she's not alone," Sunset said. "And besides, you're more use for your semblance than your sword. No offence."
"None taken," Jaune said.
"If Mal Sapphire does attempt to support Lycus Silvermane, then I should be able to deal with them both," Pyrrha said. "As should you, Sunset, I think. Certainly, you are Phoebe's equal, else she would have faced you for Soteria herself."
Sunset nodded. "Okay then. Obviously, things like the terrain will play their part, but in principle, I think we have the beginnings of a plan."
XxXxX
Phoebe Kommenos was in her own dorm room, in the bathroom, with the door closed.
She wanted a little privacy.
Her purse sat on the washboard in front of her, open.
She had taken the pictures of her mother and sister out and placed them up against the wall, with the scented candles burning around them and the little silver icons of the gods of Mistral placed nearby, with the candlelight reflecting off the metal.
Not many people were religious these days, but Phoebe's ancestor had fought a war for self-expression, so she would make her respects to the gods when she wished to. Nobody in her team questioned it. If they ever wondered why the bathroom smelt sometimes, they didn't ask her.
Phoebe breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of ocean air that wafted from the burning blue candles.
Her eyes fell on the little icons of the gods. The gods of her household were all gone; they had burned in the fire that had swept through the House of Kommenos and claimed the lives of her mother and sister; the clay had cracked, the metal had melted, there had been nothing left of the gods of the household — the gods who had failed to protect the household. It was fitting, perhaps, that they should have burned alongside those who they were meant to watch over.
But it meant that Phoebe was without household gods, just as she was without a home or a household. It was only the gods of Mistral that she could speak to now, where she was but one voice amongst many that still called out to them.
Nevertheless, she would speak.
Phoebe closed her eyes. "Erech, god of the underworld, god of the dead, look kindly upon the souls of my mother and sister as they wander in the domain of shades. Lead them to the Blessed Isles where the grain-giving earth bears honey-scented fruit. Let them live afterlives untouched by misery.
"And if the gods and merciful shall grant me victory upon this day, then let the sound of my triumph echo down into the domain of the shades and let it reach their ears through the gate of ivory that they may know it is no false dream but the truth. Let them know that I have done well at last. That I have laid her low and bested her and redeemed the honour of our house against the House of Nikos.
"Callisto, sharpen my mind and make me cunning. Eulalia, loud of the war cry, strengthen my arm. Thessaly, lady of the night, shower down a hundred curses upon Pyrrha Nikos and let her be wracked with a thousand pains like maggots devouring her from the inside out until she is consumed by them. Let her die, but let me defeat her before she dies.
"All of this, I ask, O gods, and vow to command the sacrifice of a white bull from my herds, and two fat sows besides, that the scent of their flesh will waft up to the skies and be most pleasing to your nostrils."
Phoebe opened her eyes, her gaze fixing upon the picture of Philonoe. How fair might she have grown to be, had she lived? Would she not have been a beauty to dazzle all of Mistral and put Pyrrha Nikos in the shade?
Turnus would have loved you fair, for all he turns his eyes away from me. He would have loved you, and it would have contented me to see you wed the Lord Rutulus, my sweet, dear sister.
Oh, happy fair.
Oh what a life that was denied to us.
Watch me, sister. I will yet give you reason to be proud.
Phoebe blew out the candles, and as the smoke filled the bathroom, she picked up her pictures and put them away in her purse, closing it up with a snap and a click of the clasp, before she…
Before she looked up, and caught sight of her own face in the bathroom mirror.
This is your last chance.
Your last chance, and you will waste it, as you have so many other chances before.
You can't beat her. You never have, and you never have because she's better than you. Better and more fortunate in every way, blessed by the gods.
She has everything, and you have nothing. You deserve to have nothing.
Such a disappointment.
Phoebe's face twisted into a snarling scowl as she slammed her fist into the mirror, shattering it, sending cracks spreading out across the glass, her single reflection becoming half a hundred different reflections, all looking at her with anger and disgust.
"Phoe—" Lycus started to speak from outside, his voice coming in from the other side of the door. "My lady?"
He understood deference, did Lycus, even if he was only an Argive mongrel, a half-breed in every way. He understood what she required of him, not only in battle, but in other respects as well. He understood how she expected him to behave if he was to maintain the lifestyle to which, thanks to her, he had become accustomed.
He was a good boy.
Phoebe picked up her purse, holding it in one hand as she stepped out of the bathroom.
Lycus was waiting for her, already dressed for battle, wearing custom-fitted blue jeans with black synthetic poleyns and cuisses strapped to his upper legs and knees and a hole specially cut at the back for his grey lupine tail to emerge without damaging the integrity of the pants; often, when faunus had to take scissors to their garments, it led to things starting to unravel, but not in this case. His black t-shirt was tight over his body, revealing every muscle underneath, while more muscles bulged upon his arms, only partly hidden by the black synthetic coulters and vambraces around his lower arms and elbows. His shoulder pauldrons, too, were black, as were the fingerless gloves that sat upon his hands. He was already armed, a pair of sickles thrust into his belt. Around his left arm, he wore a plain gold honour band, a band that she had given him to bind him to her.
His features were sharp, and his hair was long and silver white and the most untidy thing about him, a long shock of hair falling down between his eyes and covering his nose, partly concealing one blue eye from view. He was a handsome youth. If he were not a faunus, if he were not of such common birth, if he were fully Mistralian, then she might … but no. No, she was not Pyrrha Nikos to be so heedless of custom, manners, and propriety. Faunus might make good servants, but servants made poor partners.
He was useful, but his uses had limits.
"Is everything okay, my lady?" he asked.
"Everything's fine," she said briskly as she shut the bathroom door. She would get Mal to clean up the broken glass later.
Phoebe walked to the desk that ran along the wall of this Beacon room, pulled out a chair, and sat down upon it, facing Lycus.
He kept his eyes upon her.
"Once, long ago, when Mistral was young," Phoebe said, "Mistral went to war with the Kingdom of Thrace, a rival for power in Anima. The Emperor sent his best and noblest general, Lord Paullus, to subjugate the Thracians, and he did, defeating them in battle and taking their queen prisoner. Lord Paullus brought the Thracian Queen Tamara home to Mistral in chains, accompanied by her husband and children. But for Paullus, the victory was tinged with bitterness, for both his sons had perished in the war, and he had no other heirs to carry on his line. The House of Paullus would end with him. So who was the more fortunate, or unfortunate, in the end? The general who conquered his enemies and won great glory; or the queen who was defeated, but who yet had the consolation of her family around her even in the midst of ruin. Who was the more unfortunate?"
Lycus was quiet for a moment. "I would say … it was the queen," he said. "Yeah, she had her family still, but the Emperor could have had them all killed whenever he wanted, and there would have been nothing that she could do about it."
No, you're wrong; the most unfortunate person is myself, Phoebe thought, for I have neither great glory in arms to take pride in nor the love of my family to console me in the lack of great accomplishment.
I have nothing and no one.
While she has both, glory and love. How is that fair? How can that be just? How can it be right that not one single tragedy has befallen her to balance out the blessings she has had of fortune?
"What…?" Lycus pause for a moment. "What did happen to her, my lady?"
"Who?"
"The Queen of the Thracians."
"Oh," Phoebe said, "the Emperor's son became besotted with the beauty of Tamara's daughter and took the Thracian princess to wife. When he took the throne, he raised her kinsfolk to high honour." And now, they are the Stewards of Mistral and rule the city in the absence of an Emperor. How fortune turns.
"Huh," Lycus said. "Lucky them."
"Yes," Phoebe murmured. "Lucky them." She paused. "Get Mal and Thorn in here."
Lycus got to his feet. "Right away, my lady."
He crossed the room in quick strides, flinging the door open. "In," he said peremptorily.
Mal Sapphire and Thorn Hubert shuffled inside from where they had been waiting in the corridor for her to be ready to deal with them.
Mal was a little sheep faunus girl, with ram's horns emerging from out of the sides of her head to curl around her ears. Her hair was blonde, dyed blue at the tips to match her eyes, and her features were soft, too soft in Phoebe's opinion; she looked as though she were forever about to start crying. She wore a sapphire blue dress with long, baggy sleeves, although much of it was covered by a black cloak that trailed along the floor.
Thorn was a little shorter than Lycus, but broader in the shoulder and just as muscular in the arms. He was dressed in various shades of brown and green, like a mixture of fresh leaves and dead ones, with the sleeves of his tunic rolled up to expose his biceps to view. His hair was dark and cut short, and his features were square and solid like an anvil fit for smithing swords upon.
Phoebe regarded them both, her gaze flitting from one to the other.
She did not invite them to sit down, nor did they move to do so. Even Lycus remained standing after he shut the door behind them.
"This battle," she said, "will not be an easy one. The reputation of our enemies goes before them, and that reputation is … well merited. I do not walk into the arena expecting easy victories. But nor will I resign myself to defeat, not yet."
Though I cannot outfight Pyrrha, I may yet outwit her.
"Nor will I permit you to resign yourselves to defeat either; we may yet triumph. We may yet cover ourselves in glory and bring honour to our names. We may, I say we shall yet win because we will confound their expectations.
"They think that we will focus on Pyrrha, their strongest, their champion; they think that Mistralian honour and my pride will compel me to seek her out. No doubt, they are already making plans for how to counter our plans that they have imagined in their minds. But it will not be so." On the desk were four pictures, pictures of the members of Team SAPR. Phoebe spread them out, pushing them closer to Mal and Thorn. Her fingers lingered over Pyrrha's boyfriend, Jaune Arc. "We will deal with the weakest members of Team Sapphire first: Jaune Arc and Ruby Rose; only then will we confront the stronger half of the team, when we have the advantage of numbers. In this way, we will take them completely by surprise and force them to react to us and our actions. Thorn: when the battle begins, you will make Sunset and Pyrrha dance with your arrows; Lycus, you and Mal will cut off Jaune Arc from all aid and tear through his aura."
"He's got a lot of it, my lady," Lycus murmured.
"I'm sure that you can destroy quite a lot of it at a time," Phoebe told him. "Can you not?"
Lycus nodded. "I'll get it done."
"Then do so," Phoebe said. "And leave Ruby Rose to me; she will be helpless once I close the distance with her. Once those two have been eliminated, then, and only then, will we focus our efforts on Pyrrha; in the second stage of the battle, Mal, you will occupy Sunset Shimmer until Pyrrha has been eliminated, then the rest of us will join you. Do you all understand?"
They nodded their assent. That was all she required.
All Pyrrha's life she had been trained to fight, not just to fight but specifically to fight in tournaments. It might not have always been what she had wanted, it might not have always been the goal that she had envisaged for herself when she had been training under Chiron, but nevertheless it had been what she was training for. It had been the reason why her mother had sent her to train under Chiron, had outfitted her with the finest weapons, had ruthlessly pruned all other interests that she might have pursued. She was a warrior, but she was more than that, she was not just any warrior, she was a champion in the breeding … right up until the moment when she had become a champion.
Her life had revolved around the arena like the moon revolving around Remnant. She had fought within the circle of the Colosseum, and of amphitheatres and arenas up and down Mistral, at local tournaments and festivals and weddings and birthday celebrations, she had had special dispensation to be absent from Sanctum as often as she needed to be; she had fought, and when she had not been fighting she had been training to fight, her eyes always fixed on next year's tournament.
The arena — as an idea, the place of combat, the home of battle, the little world from which the rest of the world fell away completely as though it had never existed — had been as much or more a god to her as any god of Mistral, and she… she had not worshipped it, precisely, but she had been its priestess, it's humble servant, slaving in service to the idea, diligently working for its glory, and being rewarded for her service with glory in her turn.
Much joy that it had brought her. In the service of the arena, as an acolyte of this most demanding of gods, Pyrrha had felt like an actor on a darkened stage, only herself illuminated by the spotlight, watched by all but at the same time … utterly alone. An object of fascination but not companionship, separated from all other men by an invisible wall, observed but not marked. True, it was not only arena glory that had brought that fate upon her, but without it the Nikos name would alone have amounted for little. It would have opened a few doors into splendid rooms, but it would not have made her an object as her triumphs had.
That she was a Princess Without a Crown would have been of little note had she not possessed a champion's laurels on her brow.
No doubt there was someone, somewhere — and when the year began Pyrrha suspected that someone had been very close at hand — who would have loved it: parades, processions, dedications in the Temple of Victory, her name on every tongue. But Pyrrha… there had been times when even the unimpeachable Mistraliad, that font of honour, spoke less to her than the ancient satirists who preached the empty vanity of worldly things: political power, martial glory, oratorical eloquence.
Although I cannot be satisfied with only a healthy body and a healthy mind, Pyrrha thought, with a glance at Jaune where he was getting his gear out of his locker. That, too, might be a rather lonely life.
She did not have a lonely life. Since coming to Beacon it was as though the lights had flipped on, illuminating the whole stage and revealing it to be full of people, to have been full of people this entire time. She was still watched, but it was so much more tolerable than it had been when she had felt alone, singing her heart out to a spotlight that followed her steps and would not let her slink off into the darkness. Since coming to Beacon the demands of the arena-god had seemed less and less oppressive.
And now she was leaving their service completely.
A part of her life was coming to an end. Even if she won every battle between now and the end of the tournament, even if she won the tournament, that would be five matches. Five battles, at most, and a door would close behind her. That for which she would be armed, and trained, would be gone.
Not that there was any force, not even Professor Ozpin, that could stop her from going back, but she did not, would not wish to go back. Having ascended to the highest summit, she wished to leave it all behind.
Yet all the same the prospect filled her with trepidation. A door was closing, and she was flinching from the click of the latch, or the lock.
This had been her life; just as the life of a farmer was dictated by the rhythm of the seasons, the coming of the rain and sun, so too had her life been in large part set by the rhythm of the tournament seasons, the spacing of the festivals throughout the calendar, the times to fight and the times to train.
This had been her life, and soon that life would be over.
It made her apprehensive, and yet at the same time it filled her with excitement.
She already knew some of what came next — three more years here at Beacon, service with Professor Ozpin — but at the same time there was so much that she could not anticipate, so much that would be novel simply by having excised this entire part of her life and all that came with it. How long, after she left the arena, before she faded from the public eye, just another huntress?
It might be a little over-optimistic of her to think that she would ever be completely anonymous, but at the same time she had no doubt that, once she had stepped out of the arena for good, the public eye would cease to find her so interesting, would cease to look for her as it had done. She would become, with good fortune, a memory, a name on a roster of winners past, a name invoked as a kind of commonplace, someone idly recognised without much interest.
And all the while I'll write true deeds into the book of heroes; there is some irony there, but at the same time it is rather wonderful.
"Pyrrha?"
"Oh!" Pyrrha started, suddenly noticing Jaune looking at her. "I'm sorry, did I space out for a moment?"
Jaune grinned. "Kinda, yeah? Got something on your mind?"
"Something like that," Pyrrha said. She looked around the locker room, at Sunset and Ruby. Everyone was waiting for her. Everyone was here for her. "I was just… I was just thinking about how I spent more than half my life preparing to fight in tournaments, years more actually competing, and in a few days that will all be over."
"Well, at least you'll actually get to reach the culmination of all your efforts and your training," Sunset observed. "Not everyone is so lucky before life takes a turn and everything changes."
"With good fortune," Pyrrha murmured, touching her golden honour band with one hand.
"With good fortune, and your skill," Sunset said. "And my invaluable assistance."
Pyrrha chuckled. "Of course."
"How do you feel about it?" asked Ruby. "Leaving that part of you behind? Would you ever have maybe decided to carry on with it?"
Pyrrha thought for a moment. "Perhaps," she admitted. "If… if things hadn't worked out here, then… it might have been nice to return the comforting embrace of a field which I knew how to navigate. In which I knew how to excel." She smiled. "Fortunately, it all turned out so much better than that."
"But you're still a little nervous, right?" Ruby asked.
"Nervous and excited in equal measure," Pyrrha confirmed.
"It's not over yet," Sunset pointed out. "It may be over in a few days, but we've still got those days to get through first."
"I'm aware," Pyrrha said. "A few more days in the brightest of limelights."
"Yay," Ruby muttered, without much enthusiasm.
Sunset glanced at her, eyebrows rising as a slight, close-mouthed smile pricked up the corners of her mouth. "Nervous?"
"I … wouldn't say no to having the matches in a dark room somewhere and people could only see it on video afterwards," Ruby said.
Sunset snorted. "It's going to be fine," she said. She paused for a moment. "I feel like I've been waiting for this for a long time."
"I think a lot of people have been waiting for this for a long time," Jaune said.
"Yeah, probably," Sunset agreed. "When I first came to Beacon, when I got accepted, I thought that this tournament was going to be my shot. My chance to show what I was capable of. How great I was… how great I thought I was. I thought that this tournament would be my chance to force people to stop disrespecting me, stop treating me … like a faunus. I thought that this tournament would be my chance to be recognised, acknowledged, to become … somebody. I was wrong about that. This tournament wasn't my shot, it wasn't my big chance … you were. I may have wanted to win the tournament, but you gave me what I needed instead. But that doesn't mean that we can't take this seriously. That doesn't mean that we can't go out there and aim to win this whole thing, because while this may be only a tournament, it's still our big chance to show the world just how awesome we are and I say that we take it!
"I think that we deserve that chance. Not me, but all of us. After all we've done, all that we've been through, every battle and every trial we deserve not only a break but also some recognition!
"It may not matter whether we win or not but I still say that we go out there and give it our best shot! So let's go out there and show them all what Team Sapphire is all about.
"And, just as importantly, let's go out there and have some fun."
XxXxX
"So," Terri-Belle said, "here it comes."
Swift Foot was leaning forward in her seat. "Yeah," she said, a grin of eager anticipation on her face. "Here it comes. Mistral's champion takes the stage for the last fight."
"Former champion," Terri-Belle corrected her.
"Yeah, right," Swift Foot muttered. "That's going to take some getting used to after four years."
"Mmm," Terri-Belle said. "Though it will get annoying for Oceana if people don't at least make an effort to remember."
"I didn't mean anything by it," Swift Foot insisted. "I just forgot, that's all."
"I know," Terri-Belle said softly. "In any case, it is as you say, our former champion taking the stage. And against Mistral's own Phoebe Kommenos besides."
Swift Foot snorted. "But does anyone really care about that?"
"Someone must," Terri-Belle replied. "And we should, if no one else does; Phoebe may not be a favourite of the arena but the Kommenos family could become an important ally once she graduates and returns home."
"They're a minor house," Swift Foot said. "A traitor house imposed upon Mistral by the King of Vale."
"Yet wealthy still, with an old name," Terri-Belle said. "And we need all the support we can muster in these trying times. At the very least we should not make needless enemies with mockery and antagonism."
"But…" Swift Foot hesitated. "But she's so awful!"
"Shining Light and Blonn-di like her," Terri-Belle pointed out.
"That's a mark against her in my book," Swift Foot muttered.
Terri-Belle didn't reply to that. There was too much there to get into right now. "In any event, let's watch the match." She paused. "It's unfortunate for Phoebe that she has gotten this match-up. She might have made it into the two on two rounds, but—"
"But now she won't," Swift Foot said.
"It is unlikely," Terri-Belle said diplomatically, although who precisely she was being diplomatic for was a little difficult to say.
Swift Foot tapped her fingertips against her knees. "Do you think that Pyrrha will sweep the competition like Arslan did earlier? Take out all four members of the opposition team by herself?"
"I doubt it," Terri-Belle said.
"Why not?" Swift Foot asked. "Pyrrha's as good as Arslan. She's better, or else how do you explain the fact that Arslan's never beaten her?"
"It's not a judgement on their respective quality," Terri-Belle explained. "That kind of sweep requires two things: first, the person doing the sweeping has to be very good—"
"Which Pyrrha is," Swift Foot insisted.
"True," Terri-Belle allowed. "But it also requires that the rest of the sweeper's team is … not so good, and I'm not at all sure that's true of Team Sapphire."
"Do you know them?"
"I know their reputation," Terri-Belle said. "I know what they are accounted to have done, the actions they have taken part in. And I know that Pyrrha is very defensive of them, she doesn't like to have them thought of as lesser than her, mere limbs of her greatness. I … talked down to them a little bit, when they were in Mistral — I wasn't intending rudeness, I was just brusque and a little out of sorts from travelling — and she did not take it well. I think… I think that Pyrrha will not seem to do so well as Arslan has today."
"That's disappointing, if you're right," Swift Foot muttered.
"The victory is what matters, at this stage," Terri-Belle countered. "And victories won through teamwork are as valuable as individual heroics; the time for that will come later. For now, the team is all."
XxXxX
At some point after Arslan's fight, during the lull without anyone interesting competing, Serena Archer had gone upstairs for a nap. Now Diana nudged her awake.
"Serena! Serena, wake up!"
Serena groaned wordlessly, and turned over.
"Serena!" Diana chided her. "Pyrrha's about to fight!"
"Wuh?" Serena murmured, opening her eyes. "Really?"
"Yes, really, it's the last fight of the night. Mum's making dinner for after."
Serena sat up. "My head hurts. And my mouth feels all funny." She swallowed, and her face twisted in a pained expression.
"I told you not to go to bed," Diana reminded her.
"I was tired."
"You'll feel better when you come downstairs and watch the fight," Diana assured her. "Come on, I'll bet she'll beat everyone all by herself, just like Arslan did."
"Do you think so?" asked Serena.
"Of course I do," Diana replied. "Pyrrha's at least as good as Arslan, after all."
XxXxX
"So, you know these people as well, right?" Veil asked. "From Vale?"
"Partly," Leaf told her. "I know Sunset Shimmer and Ruby Rose, but I don't know the other two."
"Pyrrha Nikos and Jaune Arc?"
"Right, I never met them. Only Sunset and Ruby."
"So you don't know the celebrity superstar," Veil said. "Unlucky."
"I know two Atlas celebrity superstars," Leaf pointed out. "Isn't that enough?"
"Can you ever know too many celebrity superstars?" asked Veil with a grin.
Leaf shrugged. "It depends, I guess. I think if you want to use them to help you out you probably don't deserve to know any."
"A surprisingly selfless attitude, from you."
Leaf frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"I thought you'd want to get ahead, even if it meant leveraging your connections."
"If that's who I am then what am I doing here?"
"I mean, you did get the Council to pay you while you looked for a job."
"That was different," Leaf protested. "That was… that was different. I was in a bad way and I didn't have a lot of options back then. I needed help. I wouldn't go around to Rainbow Dash or Blake and ask them to get me a better job or whatever; I didn't even ask Sunset to put me in touch with her Atlas friends, she did that on her own."
"That was nice of her," Veil observed.
"Not as nice as it was of them to help me out," Leaf replied. "But… yeah, I guess it was. It was… yeah, it was nice of her. I think… from what Ruby said, she's kind of overprotective. But it worked out for me this time around." She paused. "So, which of them is the celebrity superstar? Is it Pyrrha Nikos or Jaune Arc?"
Veil stared at her.
"What?" Leaf asked.
"You don't know?" Veil said. "You've never heard of Pyrrha Nikos?"
"Should I have?"
"She's on the boxes of that teeth-rotting cereal you like?"
"The Marshmallow Flakes?" Leaf said. "That's her?"
"You didn't recognise her when you saw her in the parade?"
"I only saw her from behind," Leaf pointed out. "Besides, I didn't think that was a huntress, I thought that was a model on the box or something. Oh, wow. She's gorgeous." She thought about telling Veil that she'd had a bit of a crush on the girl on the cereal box, but decided against it for fear of making herself look stupid.
Veil nodded. "She certainly is. Everyone agrees that she could do so much better than her current boyfriend."
"Who's he?"
For the second time, Veil looked at her like she was an idiot, or just a country bumpkin. "Jaune Arc, the fourth member of this team, you really don't pay attention at all, do you?"
"To celebrity gossip, no," Leaf said, deciding against adding that she had better things to do. "Who is he? This boyfriend? I mean, I know you said he's the other member of the team, but apart from that? He's the blond one, right?"
"Yes, that's right, he is the blond one," Veil agreed, in an ever-so-slightly patronising tone. "Apart from that, he's… he's not much as far as I can tell. He's just some guy from Vale."
"There's nothing wrong with being from Vale," Leaf said defensively; after all, she was just some girl from Vale herself. "Is he any good as a huntsman?"
Veil shrugged. "I guess we'll find out, won't we?"
"Yeah," Leaf murmured. "If she's all that I wonder what she's doing with just some guy?"
Veil shrugged. "Maybe the heart really does want what the heart wants?"
"That's just something people say that doesn't mean anything," Leaf said. "She should break up with him."
Veil's eyebrows raised. "Harsh?"
"No, harsh is how she's going to feel about herself in ten or twenty years when she realises that she's wasted her life with some guy instead of living it to the fullest," Leaf said. "I broke up with my boyfriend to come here."
"I thought you snuck away without telling anyone?"
"I think if your girlfriend sneaks away to another kingdom without telling you the breakup is implied, don't you?" Leaf asked. "The point is that… he was a nice guy, and I liked him, but… he didn't want anything. He didn't want to go anywhere or do anything or be anyone, he was content to just live in this same place he grew up in and race bikes and… I wanted more than that. And there comes a time when you have to think about yourself, put yourself first."
"And that's fine," Veil said. "But maybe Pyrrha doesn't want that? Maybe she doesn't want to do anything or be anyone either?"
"Maybe," Leaf acknowledged. "As long as she wants to win this match, I guess."
XxXxX
"These are the kids who helped you out, right?" asked Norm, the bartender.
"Yeah," Red agreed. "One of them is some kind of big celebrity, but I'm more interested in what the team leader does."
"You mean the faunus girl?"
"Yeah, her," Red said. "She had a lot of spunk. I can't wait to see her in action."
"So, to be clear," Saphron said, bouncing Adrian gently up and down on her lap, "Pyrrha has never lost one of these in her life."
"No," Terra said. "I mean, yes, you're correct, Pyrrha's never lost. That's why they call her the Invincible Girl."
Saphron nodded. "And she first won the big Mistralian title when she was ... thirteen?"
"Yes."
Saphron hesitated. "How?"
"By being really good? Don't ask questions that will ruin the magic," Terra instructed her.
Saphron shrugged. "Fine, but... what you're telling me is that she has this in the bag?"
"What I'm telling you is that Pyrrha has never lost a tournament bout."
"So this is going to be boring?"
Terra restrained herself from rolling her eyes. "It's the journey that matters, not the destination. Just because you know the outcome doesn't mean it isn't worth watching how it was arrived at."
XxXxX
"Please, Amber, sit down," Professor Goodwitch said, a beatific smile upon her face as she gestured to the settee lined up against the wall.
Amber looked around, at the desk, and the sofa, and the table, and the bowl of sweets, the potted plant in the corner, the photographs upon the wall. "I… this place feels familiar, but … I don't remember it. Have I been here before?"
"Yes," Professor Goodwitch said, the smile remaining on her face. "Yes, you have. After you… after you first came to this school, after your mother passed away."
"I see," Amber murmured.
Professor Goodwitch picked up the bowl of sweets on the desk. "Would you like one?"
Amber hesitated for a moment, before she said, in a soft voice "Yes, alright, thank you."
She took a step closer, and then another, and reached out to pluck a purple sweet from the bowl. She looked around for a bin as she unwrapped the paper that surrounded the sweet itself.
"Over by the door," Professor Goodwitch told her.
"Ah, yes," Amber said, and threw the paper away once she had unwrapped the sweet. She popped it into her mouth; it had a sour taste, but not an unpleasant one. She started chewing on it as she sat down on the sofa by the wall.
"It's good," she said, with her mouth half full.
"I should hope so," Professor Goodwitch replied. She paused a moment. "How are you finding Beacon?"
"I… I like it here," Amber said. "I like it here a lot. Or … I suppose I should say that I like the people here a lot."
Professor Goodwitch was still smiling, in fact her smile became a little broader than it had been before. "It's often the people who make a place what it is, isn't it? And I think that is doubly so for a school, despite — or perhaps because — the students are never here for very long. Four years at most." She paused again. "And yet they give a school its character, its … soul, if you will. We teachers like to credit ourselves, and the particularly pompous teachers like to preach about the values of the institution as though bricks and stones could live and speak and pass down instruction, but the truth is that a school is what the students make it. We here at Beacon are fortunate to have very good students, and to the extent that there are what might be called school values they are passed down from one year to the next; but more often the students bring their values with them, but they happen to be, on the whole, very good values."
"I'm very lucky," Amber said, "to be surrounded by such good people."
Good people I will betray.
For their own good, but I'm not sure they'll see it that way.
They will hate me. They will all of them hate me when or if they learn what I've done. Pyrrha, Sunset, Ciel, they will all turn on me and revile me.
Dove will be the only one who will stay by my side; Dove, and maybe Lyra, although I don't know her as well or like her so much as those who will hate me.
She didn't want to be hated. Most especially she didn't want to be hated by her friends.
But whatever she did, or didn't do, those friends would be torn away from her. Whether by Ozpin's will or by her own actions she would be sundered from them.
That being so, she… she owed it to them to give them the best chance she could.
This was a kindness, even if it wasn't a kindness they would understand.
Professor Goodwitch nodded. "Yes," she said, "yes, they are good people, and you are fortunate."
"Do you like them?" Amber asked.
Professor Goodwitch hesitated for a moment. "They … are not my favourite students," she admitted. "But I do not dislike them, certainly. They have virtues that I recognise, and can respect. And I admit that … no one other than Miss Shimmer could have saved you. Without her…"
"Without Sunset I'd be dead," Amber murmured. "And … my powers would…"
"Best not to think about that," Professor Goodwitch suggested. "It does no good to dwell on ugly might-have-beens. Miss Shimmer was here, and she saved you, and now you're here. That is enough."
"Yes," Amber murmured. "Yes, that's quite enough for now, I suppose. Do you think they'll win? Team Sapphire, I mean. They're fighting now, aren't they?"
"The final match of the day has not quite begun," Professor Goodwitch replied. "But it will shortly, and yes, it will pit Team Sapphire against Atlas' Team Pastel."
"And Team Sapphire will win?"
"Perhaps," Professor Goodwitch murmured.
"Why wouldn't they?" asked Amber. "People say that Pyrrha is supposed to be very good at this, everyone thinks she's wonderful. Are this Team Pastel very good as well?"
"They are more competent as a team than some of its members are as individuals," Professor Goodwitch said. "I am not sure that I would say the same of Team Sapphire. The members of the team are gifted, but I'm not sure that Miss Shimmer… she has yet to convince me that Professor Ozpin made the right choice in making her the leader."
"Who do you think should lead them?" asked Amber. "Is it Pyrrha?"
Professor Goodwitch shook her head. "I believe that she would be Miss Shimmer's choice, if anything were to happen to Miss Shimmer herself; she might even be Professor Ozpin's choice, but she would not be my choice. My choice … having given it some thought, and observation… I believe it should be Mister Arc. He is quiet, true, but conscientious, hard-working, intelligent… in the absence of Miss Shimmer's voice I believe he would blossom, like a flower removed from the shade and placed in sunlight."
Amber frowned. "I can't imagine Jaune being a leader. What's wrong with Sunset?"
Professor Goodwitch was quiet for a moment. "She relies on miracles," she said. "Sometimes she gets them, or makes them, as I must admit she did when she saved you, and when that happens it looks very impressive, spectacular even. But you can't rely on miracles, that's almost definitional. If you want to avoid consequence, even disaster, then you need hard work, careful planning, forethought… qualities I'm not sure Miss Shimmer possesses. She has the intelligence to possess them, if she wished … or if she could cease to be guided by her heart, but … I think that she will make a mistake as great as any miracle that she has worked, and I don't relish being around to see it."
Because you keep putting them in danger, Amber thought. You, and Professor Ozpin, and everyone else. You're the reason that Sunset needs miracles.
And I'm going to give her one more.
XxXxX
In her box — a private box, naturally, she had purchased every seat present so as to ensure that she was not disturbed; only Hestia was with her, waiting any needs that she might have — Lady Nikos waited for her daughter and her team-mates to arrive in the arena.
She felt such anticipation as she rarely felt any more. Even as she gripped her walking stick tightly between her hands she could feel her arms trembling with an excitement so pronounced that it reminded her of the days when she had been the one competing before the crowds, before injury had put an end to her fighting career. And even though the excitement of the crowd, that low anticipatory hum that would explode into sound the moment Pyrrha appeared before the eyes of the world, was not for her, the fact that it was for her daughter was a decent second best. Especially when Lady Nikos had done so much to shepherd her to this point.
This was Pyrrha's hour: the hour to stand at the highest pinnacle of martial achievement, the greatest young warrior in all of Remnant.
And being Pyrrha's hour, it was her hour too, as the mother of a champion, the mother of a great warrior, the mother of one whose like would not be seen in the world again.
Or would it? As much as she had little affection for him as a man, Lady Nikos found her thoughts turning to consider what Pyrrha's children by Mister Arc might be. He had copious aura, after all; if his children inherited it they would be well blessed.
As heirs to the name of Nikos and all its lands and wealth they would be well-blessed regardless.
There was a chance the Evenstar need not presage the fall of night.
But even if Pyrrha was indeed the last flowering of the skill and valour of the Nikos line or indeed of all of Mistral's pride and honour … Lady Nikos could be content with that, once she had seen her daughter emerge victorious upon this stage.
She had complete confidence in the outcome of this first match: the Kommenos girl was a mere dilettante, and she had faith in Miss Shimmer to lead Mister Arc and Miss Rose in providing Pyrrha with all the support she might require. She was mainly interested in how well Pyrrha would achieve victory, not in the question of victory itself.
It had crossed her mind that Miss Shimmer might lead the rest of the team in providing a little too much support. It would have been very good if Pyrrha could have matched Arslan Altan's achievement in defeating all four members of Team PSTL herself, but Pyrrha's teammates were — a little unfortunately — too good for Lady Nikos to consider that a realistic possibility.
Still, a victory would be a victory; it was a pity that the talk of the taverns of Mistral would be of Arslan Altan's achievement, but provided Pyrrha was not shown up in this battle, provided that she laid the enemies before her low, then Lady Nikos would be content.
There would be plenty of time for Pyrrha's light to shine in the subsequent rounds, most especially in the one on ones.
For now, the victory was more important than how it was won.
Lady Nikos had often felt that the arena was a world unto itself, separate and apart from the wider world that surrounded it. How much more true that was here, when the arena was elevated into the skies, raised above Remnant and its troubles. All the ills that had befallen Vale, all her fears for Pyrrha, all her questions … they seemed so meaningless now, and so small. Left behind on the ground with all care.
Here in the sky, in this little world, this O of metal, there was only the impending battle, and the imminent chance to watch her daughter shine.
"I confess that I sometimes feel the need for privacy, but I also find that events like these are often best enjoyed with company."
Lady Nikos looked up to see Professor Ozpin standing over her. He had crept up on her while she was preoccupied with other thoughts.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am," Hestia said, "but—"
"Quite alright, Hestia," Lady Nikos said. "I would not expect you to stand in the way of so eminent a visitor." She did not rise to her feet; perhaps he would consider that a result of her poor leg. "Professor Ozpin, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
Ozpin sat down without waiting for an invitation. "Considering that this fight involves some of my most promising students and that one of those students happens to be your daughter it seemed a good time for us to become acquainted, Mrs. Nikos."
She looked at him. "I have not been called that before."
"You are not in Mistral any more, to insist upon ancient titles."
"True, but a more courteous man would offer me courtesy regardless."
Ozpin chuckled. "Perhaps he would, Lady Nikos, forgive me. I admit that I sometimes find the pride of your ancient kingdom … a trifle pompous."
"Oh, it is, without a doubt," Lady Nikos said. "But if we were to lose sight of our traditions what would be left of Mistral? Are there not worse things than a little pomposity?"
"True," Professor Ozpin said. "Have you sampled many of the delights of the festival?"
"No," Lady Nikos said. "Too much movement wearies me; I have been watching the matches since they began."
"And what is your opinion, as a former fighter yourself?"
"Haven has done a little better than expected, Atlas has done a little worse," Lady Nikos said. So far, only four Atlas teams — RSPT, TTSS, FNKI, and SABR — had won their matches, and she did not believe that Team PSTL would be making it five; Haven also had four teams moving onto the second round — SSSN, ABRN, VLCA, and BALL — but Haven Academy had been starting from a base of far lower expectations. "You must be feeling reasonably proud of yourself, Professor; by the end of this match you will have five teams progressing, the highest of any academy."
"I try not to prejudge the outcomes of fights that are yet to be fought," Professor Ozpin said. "Or to judge my colleagues too harshly. If I may, Lady Nikos, the same people who underestimate Professor Lionheart and the calibre of students that Haven is producing under his stewardship are the same who will judge General Ironwood for the perceived poor performance of his students. Both opinions are equally unjust."
"Perhaps," Lady Nikos allowed. "And yet a man who has such a puffed out chest as General Ironwood deserves to savour the taste of schadenfreude, it seems to me, and as for Lionheart… he has been lucky. He can hardly claim credit for the talents of Arslan Altan. Just as I do not think you will be allowed to claim credit for the success of Pyrrha which we are about to witness; it will be claimed for Mistral, as it should be."
"Even though she is my student, and as I have said, a most promising one?"
Lady Nikos shook her head dismissively. "You have a fine reputation, Professor, but I doubt that there is anything you have taught my daughter that she did not already know before she came to you."
"I'm not so sure," Ozpin said. "I think that Beacon has taught her teamwork, as we may see in just a little while. All the same you are to be congratulated: you have raised a fine young woman."
"I have indeed," Lady Nikos said. "And over the next few days we will see her at her finest."
"Once again I must disagree with you, my lady; I think Pyrrha has far more to offer Remnant than victory in this little tournament."
"Little tournament?"
"Prestigious, to be sure," Ozpin said. "But just a tournament all the same."
Lady Nikos snorted. "I think that Pyrrha would agree with you, Professor Ozpin." She paused a moment. "Professor, if we were on the ground I would have a bone to pick with you, regarding the events of this year."
Professor Ozpin sighed. "Yes, my lady, I can imagine that you would."
"But we are not on the ground," Lady Nikos went on. "So, for now, let us leave such matters far below us, and let this … little tournament, and its delights, engage all our interests and our passions."
XxXxX
"And so, at last, we pass from Canterlot's favourite onto its prodigal daughter," Luna observed.
"It seems from what Rainbow told us that Sunset made something of herself at Beacon," Celestia said. "Just as I thought — and hoped — she might. I'm very glad she found her path in the end."
Luna glanced toward her elder sister. "And that's why you'll be rooting for her and hers, in spite of the fact that it's an Atlesian team arrayed against them."
Celestia smiled. "As Beacon alumni ourselves, I feel that we should be allowed to support our old school against our present kingdom on occasion. And after all, isn't the Vytal Festival meant to be a celebration of unity and peace? What does that mean if we can't occasionally root for a team beyond our own kingdom?"
Luna smiled in turn, even as she shook her head. "I never understood your soft spot for her."
"She was lost and lonely."
"And full of wrath and pride," Luna added. "I also don't understand why Ozpin brought her into his organisation."
"She has changed, by all accounts."
"All the same, she doesn't seem like his type."
"Sometimes it isn't about the individual," Celestia said. "Sometimes it's about the team."
"You're thinking about Team Stark," Luna murmured.
"Indeed," Celestia said. She and Luna had been recruited as a pair, their two team-mates remaining wholly ignorant of the greater struggle and of the work that Ozpin and his allies did behind the scenes, but Team Stark of course had been recruited as a quartet. "Do you think that Ozpin would ever have approached Raven on her own, if she hadn't been on a team with Summer, Qrow, and Taiyang?"
"Considering that I never understood why he recruited Raven in any case that's a hard one for me to answer," Luna muttered.
"She was valiant, once, and true," Celestia said, with just a hint of reproach in her voice.
"Was she?" Luna asked. "Sometimes I can't help but wonder."
"In any case," Celestia said. "I wouldn't discount the possibility that Ozpin's recruitment of Sunset Shimmer was as much to do with her team as with her own qualities: Summer's daughter, Pyrrha Nikos—"
"This Arc boy of whom no one has ever heard?"
Celestia chuckled. "Not every team can be Team Stark. And who knows, he wouldn't be the first great huntsman to emerge from obscurity."
"No," Luna admitted. "We shall see."
"I certainly hope so," Celestia said. She leaned back in her seat. "Show us what you've become, Sunset Shimmer."
XxXxX
"Do we think that this will be a good fight, or a let down in its brevity?" asked Turnus.
Juturna had moved across the sofa so that she was now opposite her brother, with Camilla perched between them, steadfastly refusing to do anything like rest her head on his shoulder or nestle against his side the way that Juturna was doing to Camilla.
Juturna tried to shove Camilla sideways into Turnus, but unfortunately she wasn't strong enough; Camilla ignored her insistent nudges as though she wasn't even there.
Juturna said, "I mean, it's Phoebe, so it's going to be over quick, but I don't know if that makes it unsatisfying. It'll be fun watching her get dumped on her ass no matter how quick it is."
"That's a little unkind," Camilla murmured.
"It's Phoebe, she deserves unkindness," Juturna muttered. She had good instincts about people, she could tell when they were good news or bad news, and Phoebe Kommenos was definitely bad news.
Juturna leaned forwards, looking past and around Camilla to get a better look at her brother. "What do you think?"
"Phoebe's team may elevate her," Turnus said. "I don't know them, so I can't say."
"Pyrrha's got a good team as well," Juturna said, forced into defending Pyrrha of all people because the alternative was Phoebe Kommenos. "There's Ruby, and Pyrrha's Camilla—"
"Her name is Sunset Shimmer," Camilla said quietly.
"Yeah, her, and … that guy," Juturna finished.
"Jaune Arc," Turnus said. "Yes, true they… I imagine they work well together. Still, with eight combatants on the field a great deal can—" His scroll went off, interrupting whatever he might have said.
"Why do you have that on?" Juturna asked.
"Because it might be important," Turnus said, as he got up off the sofa. "Excuse me a moment."
"Of course, my lord," Camilla whispered.
"Hurry back," Juturna instructed him.
XxXxX
Turnus didn't respond to his sister, rather he fished his scroll out of his trouser pocket as he left the sitting room, stepping out into the corridor beyond and shutting the door behind him.
He opened up his scroll and was surprised to find that it was Phoebe Kommenos calling, as though she had known that she was being talked about.
Nevertheless, despite his surprise, he answered.
"Phoebe," Turnus said. "I would have expected you to be getting ready for your upcoming match."
Phoebe Kommenos looked tired, honestly; there was darkness beneath her eyes that makeup could not wholly disguise, though it was making a gallant effort. Despite that tiredness however, she smiled at him. "Are you watching?" she asked. "Will you be watching?"
"Of course," Turnus said. "How could I not? Is there anyone in Mistral who is not watching?"
"No," Phoebe murmured. "No I suppose not, but… all of Mistral is watching, of course. Watching to see her. Watching to see her triumph over me."
Turnus said nothing. When old Lady Kommenos had died in that awful fire he had reached out to Phoebe; he knew what it was like to lose a parent too young, to be forced to assume the responsibilities not only of adulthood but of lordship, the burdens of a great old family. He had helped with the funeral arrangements, all the paperwork, that sort of thing. Their relationship had soured after she had suggested he should get rid of Camilla, and they had very rarely spoken after she went back to Atlas, but nevertheless he had little desire to be cruel to her.
And yet there was nothing to say in response, because she spoke the truth, unpalatable though it might be for her.
So he kept silent.
"I… I sometimes wonder if I did the right thing," Phoebe said, "going back to Atlas after Mother and Philonoe died. Perhaps I should have done what you did, stayed home in Mistral, taken up my duties."
"I didn't have a choice about going back to Atlas," Turnus reminded her.
"No, but…" Phoebe paused for a moment. "I sometimes wonder if I might have been happier there than here."
"What would you have done?" Turnus asked.
"I … don't know," Phoebe admitted. "But I could have done anything, anything I wanted. That's the wonderful thing about being rich, isn't it? There are no limits."
"There will be plenty of time for you to do whatever you like after graduation," Turnus told her. "And if you'd dropped out you would have missed the Vytal Festival."
"Yes," Phoebe acknowledged. "Yes, I would. I would have missed this chance." The sadness, the weariness seemed to fall from her face, like a cape shrugged off her shoulders. "I will defeat her," she declared. "This time, this last time, I will win out. I have planned and prepared, my team is ready. I will win. And when I do, will… will Mistral think better of me?"
"If you defeat Pyrrha Nikos then your name will resound throughout the streets of Mistral, beyond doubt," Turnus said.
"And you?" Phoebe asked.
"I … will be very impressed, to be sure," Turnus replied.
"Very impressed," Phoebe whispered. "Yes, of course. Everyone will be impressed. They will have no choice but to be impressed. Then watch me, Turnus, Lord Rutulus, for I shall give you reason to be impressed, without a doubt." She paused. "And now I must go. I have a battle to win, after all." She hung up.
A frown creased Turnus' brow, and remained on his face as he opened the door and walked back into the sitting room.
"Trouble, my lord?" Camilla asked. "A client?"
"No," he assured her. "No, it was… it was Phoebe Kommenos. She wanted… I'm not sure what she wanted."
"I can guess," Juturna muttered.
"What did you say to her?" asked Camilla.
"Very little, and less of substance," said Turnus. "I told her the truth, that if she wins this fight then Mistral will talk of nothing else."
"Like that's going to happen," Juturna said with a contemptuous snort.
Turnus leaned forward to look at her. "You never liked her, did you?"
"Was there ever anything to like?" Juturna responded.
"Lady Kommenos is well born," Camilla said quietly. "But I… with respect, my lord, I fear that if she obtained your hand she would not treat Juturna as she deserves."
"Really?" Turnus said. "I wasn't aware of that. I did know that she wouldn't have treated you as you deserve."
"I hardly count, my lord."
"I disagree, vehemently," Turnus said, and as he sat down he put one arm around her shoulders. "And that is why I would never have married her, or ever will."
Camilla was silent for a moment, and still. Her voice, when it came, was as soft as melting chocolate. "Thank you, my lord." She paused. "I hope for an enjoyable match."
"I don't," Juturna said. "I hope for one that's over in a flash."
XxXxX
"Yo! Atlas!" Arslan called out, waving with one hand as she walked down the rows of seats in the cordoned off contestants' part of the stands, with Reese trailing a step behind her. They walked along the very edge of the stands, where there was a forcefield — invisible at the moment, until or unless it was struck by something — to protect the crowds from any stray bullets or explosives that might be unleashed in the battle, as well as a more conventional barrier which wouldn't stop a huntsman or huntress from vaulting over it, but would keep most normal people from getting down onto the battlefield. They walked to join Teams RSPT and YRBN where they sat in front row seats, some of them — Nora Valkyrie in particular — leaning against the barriers in front of them.
"I thought I'd find you here," Arslan went on. She looked at Team YRBN. "I'm a little more surprised to see you here, though."
"My sister's on Team Sapphire?" Yang reminded her.
Arslan blinked twice. "Right. Yes. It's a little hard to keep track of everything. I remember that Team Rosepetal are P-money's Atlas friends, but other than that… sorry."
She gestured to two seats next to Yang, who sat at the very edge of the group. "Are those seats free?"
Yang shrugged. "Knock yourselves out," she said. She looked at Reese, and said, "You're one of Arslan's teammates, right? I don't think we've met."
"No, we haven't," Reese said. "I'm Reese, Reese Chloris, at your service."
"Yang Xiao Long," Yang said. "These are my teammates Blake Belladonna, Lie Ren, and Nora Valkyrie, and these are the members of Team Rosepetal of Atlas: Rainbow Dash, Ciel Soleil, Penny Polendina, and Twilight Sparkle."
"Salutations," Penny said.
Reese waved. "Hey. A pleasure to meet you all."
"Your team don't usually show up," Rainbow remarked. "I'm surprised to see one of them."
"No true Mistralian would miss seeing Mistral's champion in action," Reese declared.
"Pyrrha's not actually the champion anymore," Arslan muttered as she sat down.
Reese frowned. "She isn't? Really?"
"No, she didn't defend her title this year," Arslan said. "Otherwise you would have noticed her being gone back to Mistral."
Yang grinned. "Isn't that something that a true Mistralian ought to know?"
Reese sighed. "Probably," she admitted. "But… well, I'm actually from Mantle, but I've got the heart of a Mistralian. Or at least I'd like to have."
"Because you feel more at home in Mistral than you do in the place where you were born, right?" Penny asked.
Reese nodded. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, exactly. Mantle is filthy and it smells and nobody cares about anyone else, even their own neighbours. Mistral… Mistral is bright and beautiful and the White Tower shines like a spear piercing the heavens, and everyone… I love it. I love everything about it."
"That's cause you haven't seen half of it," Arslan said. "Don't get me wrong, I like Mistral well enough, I wouldn't leave her for anything, but I've told you before that you shouldn't go putting her on a pedestal until you've seen the lower slopes. If you want to make a place your home then you need to see its flaws as well as its virtues."
"I've grown up in flaws," Reese replied. "I'm sick of flaws."
"Then why don't you just move to Atlas?" Yang asked. "They pretend that it's got no flaws all the time, right?" she grinned at Blake.
Blake shook her head, while Rainbow Dash let out an obviously false laugh.
"We do not pretend that Atlas doesn't have any flaws," Rainbow insisted. "We're just honest about the fact that it has fewer than anywhere else."
"In Atlas, I'd always be from Mantle," Reese said. "In Mistral, it doesn't matter whether I'm from Atlas or Mantle; I'm a foreigner, but I get the same chances either way: I can stay the Atlesian, and that's fine, or I can try and become more Mistralian, and that's fine too. Either way, nobody holds Mantle against me."
"Mmm," Ciel murmured wordlessly, pursing her lips together.
Arslan wondered idly if it was the same in Atlas, if someone from the lower slopes who went to Atlas Academy was treated the same as some old blood like Phoebe Kommenos, in a way that they wouldn't have been treated the same if they both went to Haven. It didn't seem likely to her, but then what Reese was talking about probably didn't seem all that likely to the Atlesians either.
"And you've chosen to integrate," Blake said. "Which is why you're here, watching this match, being more of a true Mistralian than your Mistralian teammates who aren't here, watching the match."
"Bolin's watching," Reese explained. "He just didn't want to watch with us. He's watching on a screen in the fairgrounds with some old buddies of his."
Reese didn't mention that Nadir wasn't watching, and Arslan didn't bring it up either. If the others got the inference then good for them, but she wasn't going to make it explicit for them.
"Anyway," Nora said, "this should be a pretty cool match, right?"
"I don't know," Arslan said.
Yang looked at her. "If you don't know then why are you here?"
"Because it's my duty to support a fellow gladiator," Arslan said. "But I don't expect Phoebe to put up much of a fight against Pyrrha, she never has before. It's not exciting watching one person effortlessly tear another up one side and down the other."
"Don't underestimate Team Pastel," Rainbow said. "I know that Team Sapphire aren't, they pulled me into their planning session."
"They had a planning session?" Reese asked.
Rainbow looked at her. "Yeah; they already know how they're going to play this fight."
"How?" asked Arslan.
"If I told you you wouldn't need to watch the match, would you?" Rainbow asked. "The point is that Team Sapphire isn't taking this fight lightly, and we shouldn't either. They've still got everything to play for here."
"This is it, huh?" said the bartender at the Crow Bar. "Last match of the day."
"Yup," Qrow said. "Finally." He drained his glass and put it down on the bar. "Another."
"Are you sure—"
"Another," Qrow repeated.
"Okay," the bartender said, reaching under the counter for the whiskey bottle. "So, you glad for the first day to be over or something?"
"What?" Qrow asked. "Why…" he realised that what he'd said could have been taken that way. "No, no, I… I've just been waiting for this fight, that's all. One of my nieces is on the Beacon team."
"Really? Lucky you, man."
Qrow snorted. "Don't talk to me about luck."
The bartender frowned for a second as he poured Qrow another drink. "Are you able to see straight enough to point your niece out to be me?"
"Am I able to see straight, what are you talking about?" Qrow demanded. "I can see both of you plain as day!"
The bartender's eyebrows rose. "Uh—"
"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," Qrow assured him, before the guy decided to kick him out for his own safety. "I'm fine. I wouldn't get myself cross-eyed and miss my niece's match, I'm not that bad of an uncle. I've got a liver like a dialysis machine, I could drink twice as much as this and not even feel it." He reached out and grabbed the new drink that had just been poured for him. "Thanks," he added, raising his glass to the bartender before he took a healthy drink.
"No, sir," he said, "I wouldn't miss this for the whole world."
I just wish that Summer could be here to see it too.
"So," Emerald said, "I guess, I mean, I suppose that there's no great mystery as to who you're rooting for, h— is there?"
Emerald, in this you have no idea, Cinder thought.
She did not lean forward, that would have set a terrible example for Emerald in posture, but she had shuffled forward on her chair slightly, as far forward as she dared.
You had better win, Sunset.
I will be terribly disappointed in you if you don't win.
And you, Pyrrha… if you can defeat me but not Phoebe then… I would be enraged and ashamed in equal measure.
I would have to kill you sooner rather than later just to get some semblance of self-respect back.
You have to win.
You have to crush her.
"Who do you think I want to win?" Cinder asked softly.
"Team Sapphire, of course," Emerald said. "You wouldn't want to be…"
"You may speak," Cinder said.
Emerald swallowed. "You wouldn't want to be diminished by anyone defeating the person who defeated you."
Cinder was silent for a moment, before a smirk crossed her features. "Well done, Emerald." It seems I underestimated you.
Emerald smiled. "You've taught me well, Cinder."
Evidently.
Although I don't just want Team Sapphire to win.
I want Team Pastel to be crushed. I want Phoebe to be utterly humiliated. I want her to be left broken and weeping in the middle of the battlefield, I want her to be humiliated before the eyes of the whole of Remnant.
If she were to suffer an accident that would cripple her I would not take it amiss, Sunset.
Just don't kill her. I want that pleasure for myself.
But, apart from that, stopping short of that, do as you will.
Better yet, do as I would. Pay her back for all the humiliation that she visited on me.
Make me proud, Sunset, I beseech you.
XxXxX
No woman can shun her destiny.
Those were the words etched into the interior of Phoebe's honour band, the armband of gold that sat upon her left arm and gleamed dully in the little light coming into the tunnel from without.
It had been given to her by her mother, when she left for Atlas; somewhat late in the day, but then… Phoebe hadn't earned it until that point. It wasn't until she was leaving, setting out on her journey, that she deserved this gift, this parting gift: the band of gold, embossed with the six-pointed star of the House of Kommenos, and set with rubies that blazed like fire.
Like the fire that had consumed her home and her family.
And the words engraved within.
They were from The Mistraliad, of course, that font of wisdom, although not a direct quote. The true quotation read 'No woman or man born, coward or brave, can shun her destiny' but that would have been rather a lot to fit on the inside of her honour band; the letters were very small as things stood.
And she had captured the essence, at least.
No one could escape their destiny.
That was a comforting thought at times, and a fearful one at others; if she had only known her destiny then she would have known whether to be comforted or fearful.
Today, as she waited in the tunnel, she was comforted.
She would take her enemies by surprise and scatter them.
And you too, Pyrrha, you cannot escape your destiny either.
She was resplendent in her panoply of war, she was a prince of old, she was a Mistralian warrior, she was…
She was a Kommenos, as Achates had been, one who would redeem the honour of her family after it had been cast into disgrace by the treachery of Ilioneus.
She was a Kommenos, and she would restore the honour of her house.
Phoebe had her helmet off, but now she raised it over her head, the tall crest of crimson horsehair touching the ceiling of the tunnel.
If I have a destiny, then I will triumph today, upon the last day.
I will triumph today or I am nothing.
Mother, Philonoe, watch me.
Phoebe breathed in deeply, in and out, her chest rising and falling beneath her cuirass.
The cheers of the crowd outside were not for her, she knew; but if she won, if she triumphed, then they would be.
"Let's go," she commanded, as she lead her team out into the light.
XxXxX
Tyche Agathe.
Those were the words engraved on the inside of Pyrrha's honour band. They meant 'with good fortune'.
With good fortune we will win. With good fortune my mother will be pleased. With good fortune I will give a good account of myself.
With good fortune I will leave this life behind, and go on to an even better and more satisfying one to come.
With good fortune, I will have all that I desire and all that I wish for will come true.
An arrogant wish, to be sure, but as I have come to acknowledge I am … a little arrogant.
I am proud of my skills, and though I acknowledge the flaw I also do not disdain it as wholly a flaw. Rather I say that I have good reason for a little pride.
Or why else should I fight here, in this tournament?
I fight for Beacon, I fight for my teammates, I fight for my mother, I fight for Sunset, I fight for the pride and honour of Mistral.
But I also fight for myself, because I wish to prove myself the best in this arena, the last and greatest arena.
I wish to plant my flag upon the highest summit before I descend the mountain never to return.
And with good fortune, I shall.
Team SAPR waited in the tunnel, waited to emerge, waited for Sunset to lead them out. Their team leader stood in the mouth of the tunnel, her back to the others, half in the light that spilled in from without. Her rifle was slung across her shoulder, Soteria was across her back, and Sunset's tail twitched back and forth in anticipation as she waited for the moment.
Jaune was behind her, a little pale of face.
Pyrrha reached out, and placed a hand upon his shoulder. "Are you alright, Jaune?"
"Yeah," Jaune said quickly. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" Pyrrha asked.
"Yeah," Jaune said again. "I just… my parents are watching. And Saphron, and… it's the only time they're going to see me in action."
"Is that not a good thing?" Sunset asked, half turning her head, but not completely looking over her shoulder. "Is that not a thing to make your heart swell with pride?"
"No," Jaune admitted. "No, it… this is the one time they're going to see me. What if… what if I mess up? What if they see me and think I'm the same useless—"
"They won't," Pyrrha told him.
"But what if—"
"They won't," Pyrrha repeated. "You have grown so much, Jaune, you've come so far; and your parents and your sisters will see that, just as I have." She embraced him, putting her arms around him, pulling him close so that she could feel the cold metal of his breastplate against her skin. "It's going to be fine, Jaune," she whispered. "I promise. You have faced worse than crowds and Team Pastel."
"I know," Jaune whispered back, as he put his arms around her in turn. "But my family wasn't watching me while I did it."
Pyrrha laughed lightly, and kissed him on the cheek. "They will be proud of you," she said, "I guarantee it."
"You should think yourself fortunate," Sunset said, still not wholly looking back. "To have such concerns, I mean. At least those who love you can watch you. I think that you are blessed in that."
Pyrrha stepped back from Jaune, releasing him from her embrace. "Do you wish that your princess could see you fight?"
"Not entirely, I fear that she would not approve of fighting," Sunset murmured. "But, at the same time… I wish that, this one occasion where what I do is for display, that Princess Celestia and Princess Twilight both could witness it. Merely telling them what happened… I fear it will be cold, and words will not do it justice. If they could see me, just once… I would count myself well blessed."
"Then I regret it is beyond my power," Pyrrha murmured. "How do you feel else?"
Sunset paused. "Are you asking me if I'm nervous?"
"Are you?" asked Pyrrha.
"No," Sunset said. "In this I have no fears at all. I only wish that Princess Celestia could see me win." She turned a little back towards the rest of the team. "What about you, Ruby?"
Ruby's answer was not words, but the fact that her hood was up, and her back was a little bent.
Pyrrha smiled, softly and, she hoped, sympathetically. "It will be alright, Ruby," she said.
"It sounds like there are so many people out there," Ruby murmured.
Indeed, the crowd beyond, the crowd above, was making a great deal of noise already, and they hadn't even shown themselves yet.
"Three lions on a shield!
Jewels remain, still gleaming!"
That song is technically about Haven, not Mistral, but never mind.
"Don't worry about them, Ruby," Pyrrha instructed her. "Just … put them from your mind. The crowd doesn't matter. What they're saying, what they're cheering, it doesn't matter. Only the battle matters, us and our opponents."
Ruby looked at her. "But how do you ignore the crowd? They're right there, screaming."
"Actually, it becomes very easy once the fighting starts," Pyrrha told her. "Once the match gets underway you'll find there's really no time to think about anything else. There is only the fighting. Or at least there should be, unless you want to get distracted and make a mistake at the worst possible time."
Pyrrha had known some fighters who played to the crowds overtly, grandstanding for them, acknowledging their cheers and their applause. Pyrrha had never failed to make them pay for taking their lapses of concentration.
Ruby sighed. "I guess that's okay," she said. "I know you're used to this, but didn't it make you nervous the first time, hearing such a huge crowd like that, cheering and singing?"
"Maybe they had less to cheer the first time," Sunset suggested. "They didn't know what they were about to get."
"That's true," Pyrrha said, a touch of amusement in her voice. "But the most important thing to remember, the most important lesson that Chiron taught me around tournaments, is that the crowd has no power. Whether you are loved or hated, cheered or booed, none of it, like so much surrounding tournaments, really matters. It cannot make you less skilled, or more, it cannot carry you to victory or cast you down to defeat. In the arena, as in the field, skill is the only real measure. Skill, and courage, I suppose. And we have that in abundance, no?"
Ruby reached up, and threw back her hood. "Yeah," she said. "Yeah, we do."
"You're getting good at this," Sunset observed.
Pyrrha laughed lightly. "I had a very good teacher."
Sunset didn't respond to that, except with the very slightest turning up of one side of her mouth as she said, "Is everyone ready?"
Jaune rolled his shoulders. "Ready."
"Ready," Ruby agreed.
"And I'm ready too," Pyrrha said.
Sunset smiled more fully now, a fierce smile, and full of anticipation. "Then let's not keep them waiting any longer," she said, as she led them out of the tunnel and onto the battlefield.
XxXxX
Sunset was the first one out, her eyes squinting at first she stepped from the shadows of the tunnel into the bright sunlight that bathed the battlefield.
The applause of the crowd was a deluge down upon her ears, cheers like rain descending, drowning out the sound of her own footfalls upon the white metal that, for now, formed the surface of the Colosseum; still more did it drown out the footfalls of her teammates behind her.
With four ears, Sunset could hear that not everyone was cheering; there were few boos, the remains of Phoebe's — or probably, most likely Phoebe's — work in spreading those rumours about Pyrrha and her connection to Cinder.
Fortunately, they were far outnumbered by the cheering.
"Team Sapphire of Beacon!" Professor Port declared, and the many cheers and the small number of boos and jeers alike were redoubled, the vast crowds that thronged the arena discovering some reserve of passion in their throats that they had been holding back until now. The singing had mostly died down now, the words converted to more wordless expressions of enthusiasm.
Pyrrha was probably right to say that they would swiftly take no notice of it once the fighting began, but at the same time, for now, Sunset was glad of it. It had been a long time since… well, in truth, she had never been received by a crowd like this, not ever, not even in Canterlot. In Canterlot there had never been occasion for her to be received by a crowd like this, so rapturously and with such adoration.
It is a little unfair that only pegasi get the chance to bask in the glow of the crowd's love like this, back in Equestria, Sunset thought. Flying is all very well and good if you have the wings for it, but where are our magic contests, where are our showcases, where are the opportunities for unicorns to bask in acclaim?
Although Pyrrha would tell me they are well off out of it. Nevertheless, it would be good to have the opportunity.
Sunset herself… she had told herself that the tournament had become less important to her, she had told herself that her ardour for glory had faded, and she had not lied to herself, intentionally or otherwise; nevertheless, as she walked out onto field of white metal, as she led her team towards the central hexagon, as she could see herself on the screens mounted a four points around the ceiling of the arena, as the applause and the cheering fell upon her, as all of that happened Sunset could not keep the smile off her face.
She would have waved, but she had just about enough self-awareness left to know that they were not cheering for her.
"Team Pastel of Atlas!" Professor Port said, and Sunset told herself that she heard no noticeable uptick in the volume of the cheering as their opponents made their way out.
Like SAPR, they advanced in single file, with Phoebe Kommenos in the lead. Her face was concealed beneath a black helmet with a tall crest of Mistralian green that added another foot to her height — and she was more or less of a height with Pyrrha even without it. Her cuirass, too, was black, the metal painted over so that it reflected no light. All her armour — the vambraces on her arms, the greaves upon her feet, were black; the splashes of colour came from the gleaming gold armband, set with rubies, that she wore upon her left arm, and the fiery orange skirt she wore that covered her thighs from view.
And the purple stones set in her vambraces that Sunset thought might be gravity dust crystals.
Upon her back was slung a spear, and a rectangular tower shield perhaps two thirds as tall as she was.
Her teammates followed after her: Mal Sapphire was small, with her hood raised to hide her head and her knuckles white as she gripped a staff which had been made to look like wood, gnarly and a little bent at the top, even if it was not; Thorn Hubert's was a large man with a flat face, his features firm but at the same time somewhat brutish to Sunset's eyes, like a human anvil, or a person fashioned more from wood or stone than flesh; Lycus Silvermane, on the other hand, was all angles, sharp cheeks, sharp jaw, it was a wonder that he didn't cut himself.
They were both big men, and Phoebe was not small either; Sunset wondered if that alone was ever enough to intimidate anyone.
The two teams reached the central hexagon and lined up, facing one another. Sunset, on the right of her own line, faced Lycus, the L of Team PSTL, while Phoebe was facing Ruby.
Phoebe laughed, that high-pitched and ever-so-fake sounding laugh that grated on Sunset's ears. "Why, Pyrrha," she said, "I'm surprised that we're meeting like this so soon."
"This is the only way you'd get a chance to meet Pyrrha in this tournament," Sunset growled. "Tell me, Phoebe, do you wish you could pay someone to fight this match for you?"
"Sunset," Pyrrha said, "that is unnecessary. I look forward to facing you again, Lady Kommenos."
Phoebe's face was hidden beneath her helmet, but her voice seemed a little lower, and a little tighter, as she said, "As do I. I understand that you're retiring after this tournament is over."
"That's correct, yes," Pyrrha said. "I'm going to devote myself wholly to being a huntress."
"How very noble of you," Phoebe said. "I suppose that I'll just have to make this count, won't I?"
On the edges of the four quadrants of the arena the images appeared, the brightly coloured indicators of the possible biomes whirling around and around, one picture replacing another, the rotation going faster and faster until, with a beeping sound, the images stopped moving.
Behind Team PSTL, the image was of a mountain; behind Team SAPR… Sunset wasn't entirely sure, a lot of black lines upon a purple background.
"Oho! The gravity biome!" Professor Port said, as the floor of the arena around the central hexagon opened up. Behind Team PSTL arose a tall grey mountain, surrounded by grass and a few rocky outcroppings which might serve as cover. Behind Team SAPR, on the other hand, arose something that looked… Sunset wasn't quite sure how to describe it, it was a series of black platforms and columns, with some things that looked like children's play blocks but giant sized, squared in comparison to the rectangular platforms and pillars. They were all black, and all surrounded on the long sides by lights, some of them white and others purple; they were arranged higgledy-piggledy, it didn't look possible to jump between them unless you could run vertically up some of the columns.
Although if you could, then you would have a very high vantage point indeed.
"Yes, this is the first time that this biome has made its appearance so far in the tournament!" Doctor Oobleck declared. "For those of you for whom this is your first Vytal Tournament, allow us to provide a little explanation: each of those platforms and pillars that you see has been infused with gravity dust; when the lights surrounding the platforms are white, the gravity dust has been activated and the platforms exert a pulling effect which will allow students to run up vertical surface or stand upside down on the reverse of platforms — but they should beware! Once the lights turn from white to purple the gravity dust is deactivated and the effect ends, so mind your surroundings! And watch your step!"
"Possibly the most interesting biome used here at the Amity Colisseum," Professor Port said. "I'm looking forward to this match already."
You and everyone else, Professor, Sunset thought.
"Three!" Doctor Oobleck cried.
Jaune drew his sword and unfurled his shield; Crescent Rose unfolded with a series of clanks and hisses; Pyrrha drew Miló and Akoúo̱ across her shoulders; Sunset unshouldered Sol Invictus.
"Two!" Professor Port boomed.
Team PSTL mirrored Team SAPR's actions: Phoebe drew her own shield and spear; Lycus drew the two sickles from his belt; Thorn pulled his bow from across his back and grabbed an arrow from the quiver at his hip; Mal seemed to tighten her grip on her staff, which Sunset wouldn't have thought possible.
"One! Begin!" Doctor Oobleck shouted.
A blaring klaxon sound signalled the beginning of the battle. Ruby darted backwards, trailing rosepetals along the metal surface after her as she ran towards the elevated gravity platforms. Pyrrha surged forward, Jaune two steps behind, as Phoebe gave ground before her, retreating into the grass on Team PSTL's side of the field. Mal, too, and Lycus, they were all retreating in the face of Pyrrha's advance. Sunset raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder, taking aim at Lycus Silvermane — until she noticed Thorn Hubert had nocked an arrow and was drawing on her.
She snapped off a shot, hitting him and knocking him down, flat on his backside on the metal of the central hexagon. Sunset's finger was already squeezing the trigger again when a great gust of air struck her with all the force of an invisible punch, lifting her up off the ground and dumping her, in turn, onto her tail, her rifle slipping from her grasp and skidding a few feet across the floor.
The blast, Sunset saw, had come from Mal Sapphire, whose black cloak was now ablaze with fire, green fire — Sunset wondered how she was achieving the effect, when fire dust exclusively burned yellow no matter how hot it got — the flames leaping up from all across her back, and who was pointing her staff in Sunset's direction.
Sunset telekinetically summoned her rifle back into her hands, but as she did so Mal turned her attention to Pyrrha and Jaune, unleashing another gust of wind in their direction.
Pyrrha avoided it, leaping away, rolling across the grass of Team PSTL's half of the battlefield in the direction of Sunset, but Jaune was less fortunate; more heavy-footed than Pyrrha, he was hurled back out of the mountainous biome and into the central hexagon once again.
Pyrrha rolled onto her knees, Miló shifting smoothly from spear to rifle mode as she and Sunset both fired at Mal. Her green flames did not protect her from bullets and down she went, setting some of the grass aflame — although not so much that it looked as though it would spread.
But Thorn had regained his feet by now and began to loose arrows in Pyrrha's direction, his arm a blur as shaft after shaft left his bow, arrows which burst in the air like rockets, blossoming flowers of fire that illuminated Pyrrha's gilded armour as she danced nimbly to avoid them.
Sunset shot him again, and down he went again, but not before Mal had scrambled to her feet. She swept her staff before her in a wide arc, and as she swept it a wall of ice, fifteen or twenty feet high, appeared in front of her, spreading out across the battlefield, splitting it in two wherever the ice wall rose. Mal disappeared from view on one side of it, and so did Lycus, and Phoebe.
And Jaune.
Phoebe isn't going for Pyrrha at all, she's trying to pin her down while she takes out Jaune first. She must be worried by his semblance.
Well played. Rainbow was right about you.
Sunset dropped Sol Invictus, the rifle clattering to the ground, as she raised her hands to conjure up a shield in front of Pyrrha and herself, a green barrier against which Thorn's arrows struck or even exploded harmlessly; Sunset could feel the explosions against the magic through her connection to the shield, but she felt no risk of the shield breaking.
Especially since she wasn't going to keep it up for very long.
"Pyrrha!" she shouted. "Go to Jaune, I'll handle things here."
Pyrrha nodded wordlessly, and — secure behind Sunset's shield — she threw her own, rather more solid shield against the ice wall that Mal had conjured up. It did not break the ice, but Akouo did lodge itself in the midst of the spiky ice, eight or nine feet up, maybe more. Pyrrha ran towards the ice wall, leaping up, effortlessly grabbing her shield and pulling herself up onto it, using it as a springboard — one which she grabbed on the way — as she vaulted the rest of the way over the ice wall, red hair and red sash alike flying, streaming out behind her as she disappeared down on the other side of the ice.
Thorn scowled, his glance flickering between Sunset behind her shield and where Pyrrha had just vanished over the wall.
Sunset dropped the shield, grabbed Sol Invictus off the floor, and teleported right up into his face.
Thorn's eyes widened.
Sunset swung the butt of her rifle into his gut. Thorn let out an off as he doubled over, staggering back a step. Sunset hit him again, swinging the wooden stock of the rifle up into his jaw and making his head snap around. She reversed her grip on her rifle and swung it downwards for the top of his head.
He caught it with one hand, his meaty fist closed around the gun.
Sunset let go with one hand, an emerald bolt of magic erupting from her palm to strike him in the chest and throw him backwards.
She held her palm towards him, the glow of magic surrounding it as she prepared to hit him again.
He locked eyes with her.
Sunset felt a pricking sensation in her eyes, a stabbing pain like pins and needles in her hands, a tightening in her chest.
And Adam appeared before her eyes.
The world was black, the sky was red, the arena and the mountain and the crowds and all else in the world melted away and there was only Adam Taurus, a black figure with a blood red sword, bearing down on her.
She was in Mountain Glenn, the sun had failed and the moon was dead, dead as the city that surrounded her, dead as the old bones that littered this place, dead, dead, dead.
She was on the train, that awful train, rushing down the rails towards Vale, the thump, thump, thump of the train as it rattled along echoing in her ears.
She was on the train, she was in Mountain Glenn, Adam was there, Merlot's deathstalker was poised to bring its stinger down upon her, she was everywhere, everywhere that she feared to, facing those that she feared.
Sunset staggered backwards, her hand falling to her side, her eyes wide; she gasped for breath, her chest strained against her sun-emblazoned cuirass, she wanted to tear it off, but… but she couldn't. She couldn't move her hands, she could barely feel them at all. She felt cold, so very cold, as cold as the dead city that filled her mind, the chill of the underground biting her bones through her aura. She trembled like a leaf, even as her legs became as rooted to the spot as an old tree that is torn up by the storm because it is too rigid now to bend.
She could barely see Thorn; the wall of ice she could not see at all. Amity Colosseum, the Vytal Tournament, all of it had fallen away. She was in a world of her own now; a dark world, and terrible.
And she couldn't breathe.
XxXxX
Ruby ran backwards as the fight started. She heard Sol Invictus bark, but she didn't hear the sounds of any swords clashing, which surprised her a little bit, surprised her enough to make her look over her shoulder and see that most of Team PSTL was retreating away from Pyrrha and Jaune.
That was … probably not good, actually. It meant they were likely up to something.
But she'd have a better chance of spotting what it was if she got up higher than the ground.
Ruby left the central hexagon in a burst of rose petals, slowing down as she passed beneath the first of the elevated gravity dust platforms.
Ruby was inclined to agree with Professor Port: the gravity biome was pretty cool. It was like a videogame, with all of the platforms to jump and run along, only without any barrels or irate gorillas trying to hit you as you did so — only irate opponents, possibly, if any of them penetrated deeply enough into Team SAPR's side of the battlefield.
Ruby leapt up onto the first, lowest platform — or at least she tried to leap up onto it, but kind of misjudged how strong the gravity effects were and ended up on the underside of said platform, stuck to it by the soles of her feet, standing upside down like a sleeping bat with her falling down towards the ground and Ruby herself getting a little bit of a headrush. Fortunately the gravitational effects, although sufficient to keep her from falling, were not so great that she couldn't move around pretty freely, and certainly weren't enough to stop her from getting right side-up in short order.
She stood on the lowest platform, with a small pillar before her leading to another, higher platform, and a block on her right, what would be closer to the back of the battlefield.
Ruby chose to go forwards, running along the platform, noticing the lights turn from white to purple but, thanks to being topside, not being effected by it, although she did note that the colours were changing kind of fast.
She leapt off the platform and hung, suspended, in the air for a second before the gravitational effect of the pillar in front of her caught her in its embrace and pulled her towards it. Ruby might have been slammed into it — or at least gently shoved, she wasn't being pulled that fast — face first, but as she flew Ruby rolled in mid-air, tucking her legs up to her chest with Crescent Rose resting on her knees, before extending her legs again to touch the pillar with the soles of her feet.
Her knees buckled for a moment before she started to run directly up the black column, her red cloak flying out behind her, rose petals dripping from her body to form a pile down on the arena floor.
Okay, this? This was pretty cool. No doubt there were some people whose semblances let them do this all the time, but for Ruby, it was cool. Even cooler than a videogame because she was living it herself.
She reached the top of the pillar and leapt off it, being quickly caught and pulled in by the force of the next nearest platform to which she floated, gently as a cloud in the sky—
Until the lights on the platform above turned from purple to white, even as the lights of the platform below remained stubbornly white also.
Ruby hung in the air, caught between two equal and opposite gravitational pulls, one seeking to yank her up towards it, the other to drag her down towards it in turn.
And she herself not going anywhere.
Well, this never happened in any game.
Fortunately, she had something an Atlesian plumber didn't: recoil.
Ruby spun in the air, not as fast as she would have liked, but she spun nonetheless, turning to face in the opposite direction to where she wanted to go. She aimed Crescent Rose straight ahead of her, and pulled the trigger. The blast sent her gliding backwards, like a pebble dropped into a treacle and slowly sinking through it. She fired again, and moved further back, staying between the two platforms, but moving in the right direction at least. She started to squeeze the trigger to fire a third time, but the lights on the platform beneath her changed from white to purple, and she was pulled upwards towards the lower side of the higher platform, having just enough time to orient herself in the air so that she landed feet first.
Conscious of the rush of blood to her head, Ruby moved quickly, rushing along the bottom of the platform and jumping off it, rolling in the air to land upon the side of the tallest column in the biome, a black slab stretching up into the air until it must have been coming close to the shield that protected anything — like missiles or whatever — from getting outside the arena via the hole in the ceiling.
Ruby ran up this column, just as she had run up the smaller pillar, her feet pattering upon the black synthetic surface, her crimson cloak riding up and down like a wave or the wake of a speedboat, Crescent Rose shaking a little in her hands.
She had almost reached the top when the lights changed from white to purple.
Ruby let out a little startled squeaking sound as she suddenly lost her foot, all grip on the vertical side of the column slipping away. She threw Crescent Rose outwards, using the scythe blade like a grappling hook, catching it on the very top of the column as she held onto the rifle tightly, very carefully not looking down at the long drop below.
Ruby grunted with effort as she managed to get her feet back on the black surface. Unfortunately, without any gravity, it was a challenge getting them to stay here, and without much in the way of handholds on the slender barrel of Crescent Rose it was going to be a bit of a trial climbing up it.
Which meant climbing wasn't necessarily the best approach.
Ruby took a deep breath, and kicked off the column, reversing Crescent Rose as swiftly as she could and firing downwards, firing once, twice, three times, blasting herself upwards into the air each time by the recoil of her weapon until she had blasted herself up high enough that she could reach out, grab the top of the pillar, and pull herself up onto it.
From this high perch she, like an eagle on a mountaintop, could see everything.
And she could see that things hadn't quite gone according to plan.
A lot of the battlefield had been cut in two by a wall of ice, a wall which left Pyrrha and Sunset on one side, with Thorn Hubert, and Jaune on the other side of it with Phoebe Kommenos, Lycus Silvermane, and Mal Sapphire.
You didn't have to hate Jaune and want to put him down to say that that was not a great position for him to be in.
The only member of Team SAPR for whom that might have been a good position was Pyrrha, for whom it would have been the case that Phoebe, Lycus were stuck on the wrong side of the ice wall with her, but Jaune… Jaune, not so much.
Ruby aimed down the sights of Crescent Rose. "Don't-a worry, Jaune," she muttered, momentarily slipping into an accent appropriate for platforming, "I've got-ta you covered."
Phoebe led the way, and it was Phoebe that Ruby shot at first, hitting her on the tower shield that she held up in front of her, covering her face so Ruby could only see the big green crest on her helmet. The shield took some of the effect of the shot, so that Phoebe was only staggered instead of being thrown backwards — must have been a pretty good shield — and she continued to rush forward, rushing… past Jaune? She darted around him, not even trying to attack him. Jaune looked for a moment as though he might try and intercept her, but Lycus was on him before he could, sickles slashing.
Mal, meanwhile, was brandishing her staff in his direction. That was an easier target than trying to hit Lycus while he was locked in combat with Jaune, so Ruby shot at her first — seven shots, with ten in the magazine, she would have to reload soon — and then shot at her a second time hoping to get her aura down, but Mal held her staff up in front of her, and the sight of her seemed to shimmer and ripple like water. Ruby fired again, but nothing happened that she could see. She didn't react as though she'd just been shot, and a check on Mal's aura level didn't show any change at all.
She must be using wind dust to deflect the bullet. Ruby frowned just a little bit as she switched targets to Lycus, or tried to, watching him hurl himself at Jaune, sickles swinging, watching Jaune frantically block the blows with his shield, trying to find openings to counterattack.
They were too close together, and moving too fast, she couldn't fire without risking hitting Jaune. And where was Phoebe?
There was a flash of bronze, the sunlight glinting off it to momentarily blind Ruby as she stared through her scope, as Akoúo̱ slammed into the side of Lycus' head and knocked him off his feet.
Now Ruby shot him, redirecting his movement completely as he rolled into the grass, rolling upright and onto his feet, sickles still in his hand.
Pyrrha was there, spear in hand, smoothly recovering her shield as she stood between Jaune and their two opponents.
Ruby breathed a sigh of relief. Okay. Jaune was going to be fine now that Pyrrha was back with him. But where was Phoebe?
A thump from below her directed Ruby's attention towards the lower platforms, the lowest platform that Phoebe had just gained.
So that's where she is. Right.
It occurred to Ruby that they might have misjudged Team PSTL. Apparently the Mistralian warrior values weren't what they used to be.
Considering some of the dumb things that those values have made Pyrrha do, that might be a good thing.
Just not for us, right now.
But she still had time before Phoebe actually made her way up to Ruby, time to check on Sunset at least, see how she was doing.
Sunset … was not doing well. She had frozen up. Ruby couldn't tell why she had frozen up, but she had.
Actually frozen up wasn't the best way of putting it, with the way that she was shaking. It was like… it reminded Ruby of their mission in the Emerald Forest, when Professor Ozpin had asked them to go back to Mountain Glenn and Sunset had just… not freaked out exactly, it had been too quiet for that, but at the same time it was the best way that Ruby could think to describe it.
There were a lot of things that Ruby could be annoyed with Sunset about, and sometimes they could make her very, very annoyed indeed … but then there were moments when Sunset reminded you that she had some pretty nasty scars on her soul, even if she was generally pretty good at hiding them, and it got harder to hold her attitudes against her even if she was flat wrong and pigheaded about it.
This was one of those times, especially when Thorn Hubert hit her across the face so hard that she was knocked to the ground and she barely seemed to notice.
Ruby didn't know what could have triggered this, but she was barely reacting as Thorn straddled her and started pounding on her with his fists, fists like rocks rising and falling.
Rainbow couldn't tell us what his semblance was.
Could it be … scaring people?
Might be nice for an update on that, Professor Port.
"It looks as though Sunset Shimmer has fallen afoul of Thorn Hubert's semblance," Doctor Oobleck said. "This allows him to trigger an opponent's traumatic memories … and Miss Shimmer seems to be suffering a particularly bad reaction."
Not for long, Ruby thought, as she took aim. She would worry about Phoebe later, for now, Sunset's needs took priority. Let's see how easily you can keep it up under fire.
She pulled the trigger.
XxXxX
The blast caught him by surprise.
Not Pyrrha, of course, she'd leapt clear of the gust of wind as it came roaring towards them. But of all the things that she could teach him, how to move as fast as she did, as nimbly as she did, as light upon his feet as she did wasn't one of them.
Or perhaps they just hadn't gotten that far yet.
Or perhaps it was his own fault for deciding pre-emptively that he wasn't going to be able to get out of the way and he'd be better off trying to take the blast head on.
Jaune raised his shield before him, and the shield began to glow with shimmering golden light as he concentrated his aura upon it.
Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to stop him from being lifted clean off the ground. Jaune fought to keep hold of sword and shield as he spun around and around, turned head over heels before being dumped unceremoniously upon his front upon the grass.
He groaned wordlessly, even as he tried to pick himself up as quickly as he could.
He heard something behind him, a rustling, rippling sound, but it wasn't until he got to his feet — he still had hold of both parts of Crocea Mors, thankfully — that he saw what it was.
Mal had switched from wind dust to ice, and with that ice she had conjured up a barrier, a wall of ice that was way too high for him to consider jumping over, a wall that cut cleanly across most of their half of the battlefield, and all of the central hexagon, encroaching slightly into Team SAPR's side with the gravity biomes.
A wall that separated him from Sunset and Pyrrha.
A wall that left him alone with three members of Team PSTL.
This isn't good.
It wasn't good because it wasn't the plan — they'd assumed that Phoebe would be bent on Pyrrha, but apparently not; it seemed that Phoebe's actual plan was to pick on the weak members of Team SAPR first, starting with him.
Which … wasn't good for him, obviously, but at the same time Jaune wasn't sure that it was such a great plan for Team PSTL; he guessed that he could see it, but at the same time they were almost certainly going to lose their one poor guy on the other side of the ice wall, and they'd still have Pyrrha and Sunset to deal with.
Plus, while he was under no real illusions about how he would do in a three against one, Jaune had no intention of going down without a fight.
It was a pity that his family would see him knocked out, but hopefully they'd appreciate that he gave a good account of himself first.
Jaune stepped into a guard, shield before him, sword raised to strike, a clear view of his opponents over the top of his shield.
"Okay," he whispered, so quietly that he doubted any of Team PSTL could hear him, "whose first?"
Phoebe was first, rushing forwards with her own shield held up in front of her – too high up, he thought, he wasn't sure how she could see over it — and her spear held loosely in her other hand. A shot from behind Jaune struck the shield, which staggered her and made him realise that she wasn't holding her shield so as to guard herself from him, but to shield herself from fire from above.
From Ruby.
Jaune would have thanked her, except that he didn't dare to turn his back on any of his opponents. Just because they hadn't gone for him yet, they would doubtless follow Phoebe's lead as she… as she rushed past him as though he wasn't there at all.
She's going for Ruby. They meant to take out the both of them, then, and hopefully have a numbers advantage against Pyrrha and Sunset. Again, Jaune wasn't wholly convinced by the plan, but at the same time he supposed it wasn't a bad one.
It was sufficiently good that he decided to interrupt it; with his aura reserves, he'd rather take on all three of Team PSTL until Pyrrha and Sunset finished with Thorn than let Phoebe engage Ruby up close — she was better off covering him.
He took the first step towards Phoebe, sword stretched out towards her; he had ice dust loaded, if he could—
"Not so fast!"
Jaune turned to see Lycus Silvermane descending on him, silver-white hair flying, face set with a savage smile, both sickles raised for a parallel slashing strike.
Jaune took half a step back, raising his shield to take the strokes as the sickles flew diagonally downwards, scraping across the shield's surface hard enough to make Jaune reel a little to the side.
Lycus landed on the ground, slashing again, more wildly this time, first one sickle then the next in wide arcs. Jaune gave ground, stepping backwards, taking both strokes upon his shield before countering with a slashing stroke of his own.
Lycus took the blow in one sickle, turning the stroke, trying to twist Jaune's sword out of his hand. Jaune lunged at him, using his shield like a battering ram aimed at Lycus' face, forcing him back a step.
Jaune heard again the booming report of Crescent Rose, but obviously Lycus wasn't the target.
He thrust at Lycus, point first, aiming for the eyes, but Lycus dodged the stroke, his body swaying nimbly to let the sword pass beside him.
Lycus let go of one of his sickles for a moment to grab Jaune's outstretched arm; he was still grinning as he started to pull Jaune off balance.
Jaune hit him with his shield, making him let go, making him turn away in pain; unfortunately he converted that turn into a spin with his remaining sickle, slashing at Jaune's unprotected belly now that he wasn't covering himself with his shield.
Jaune winced as he felt some of his aura sliced away, and again he retreated backwards.
Lycus fluidly grabbed his other sickle off the floor and surged towards him in a flurry of swift strokes. Jaune tried to remember — well, no he did remember what he'd been taught in as much as Lycus wasn't tearing him apart already, but although he was blocking with his shield, openings for him to counter with his sword were so few and far between as to be practically nonexistent. Lycus attacked him with a furious energy, sickle strokes scraping off his shield, striking sparks where they struck the metal.
Lycus hooked one of his sickles around the lip of Jaune's shield, pulling it down, trying to wrench it away. Jaune slashed at Lycus' wrist, but he parried with his other sickle.
Jaune thrust his head forward — not something Pyrrha had taught him, more a leaf out of Rainbow Dash's book — at the same time as Lycus decided to do the exact same thing.
Their two heads slammed into another with a blow that Jaune felt through his aura. He would have taken a step back but Lycus still had a sickle hooked around his shield.
Until Akoúo̱ slammed into the side of Lycus' head, knocking him sideways, sending him flying across the grass.
As he landed, Jaune fired a burst of ice dust, the ice sweeping out across the grass towards him before he could get up, covering his legs and keeping him stuck there as Pyrrha landed in front of Jaune.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," she said.
XxXxX
As she vaulted over the wall of ice, hair and sash alike streaming out behind her, Pyrrha's eyes sought out Jaune and swiftly found him, locked in combat with Lycus Silvermane.
Mal Sapphire was watching them, seemingly unwilling or unable to risk hitting Lycus with any of her dust when he and Jaune were so close together.
And Phoebe… Phoebe was trying to reach Ruby on top of the gravity platforms.
We really did misjudge you, Phoebe.
There would, she hoped, be time to deal with Phoebe later. For now, her focus was on Jaune. She and Jaune were to stick together, that had been the plan, and as much as the plan was somewhat in tatters now there was no reason why they couldn't salvage as much of it as possible.
And while Jaune was holding his opponent off, which gladdened her to see, he didn't seem to be in much of a position to launch a counterattack, if left unaided.
He wasn't losing, but how long might that state of affairs remain unchanged if she did nothing.
And so, as Pyrrha fell to earth like a thunderbolt from the heavens, she threw her shield before her, Akoúo̱ spinning through the air to strike Lycus on the side of the head and throw him away from Jaune who, with quick thinking, used some of his ice dust to freeze him in place before he could get up.
Lycus was straining against the dust as Pyrrha landed gracefully in front of Jaune.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," she said, as Akoúo̱ flew back to her like a pet falcon, landing smoothly upon her wrist.
Jaune grinned. "No, I'd say you're just in time," he said. "Sunset—"
"Can handle herself, and Thorn," Pyrrha replied. "We'll deal with these two."
As she spoke, she shifted Miló from spear into rifle mode, snapping off two shots at Mal Sapphire.
Neither of them seemed to strike; Mal did not flinch, her aura did not diminish at all.
Wind dust to deflect bullets. It was not unheard of. It meant that Pyrrha would have to get close.
"Follow me," she said to Jaune as she started to run, darting this way and that, zig-zagging to make it harder for Mal to hit her with her dust. It was unfortunate that, just as her wind dust made it necessary to get in close, the green flames that wreathed Mal made that, too, a tricky proposition.
But with the reach of her spear — the spear into which Miló reformed in her hand — she should be able to manage it.
Mal thrust her staff out in Pyrrha's direction, forcing Pyrrha and Jaune to leap to one side as another cone of wind emerged from out of the staff like a cyclone; Pyrrha could feel the wind lapping her face, playing with the strands of her hair as she leapt away, using a touch of Polarity this time to grip Jaune's armour and make sure that he leapt away as well, the two of them landing closer to the ice wall than they had been, leaving a clear route between Mal and Lycus.
As Mal brandished her staff before her, a stream of ice emerging to form not a wall but a path, a path towards her trapped teammate down which Mal began to slide, skidding along even as the icy road began to weep from her flames, it appeared that that had been her intent.
Pyrrha stepped forwards, thrusting Miló outwards, setting off the dust charge to extend the spear's reach by another foot and jab Mal in the shoulder, knocking her off the ice path.
She flailed as she fell, and Pyrrha spun upon her toes, red sash wrapping around her waist as she struck Mal from behind with the shaft of her spear, cutting her tumbling feet out from under her before thrusting down, straight down like a thunderbolt, smiting Mal upon the breast and driving her down into the ground.
Mal's hood fell back, revealing her ram's horns and her soft features, and her mouth from which fire spewed.
Pyrrha recoiled, feeling the heat of the fire upon her face but not feeling any damage to her aura.
Mal's staff was lying on the ground, and while fire leapt from Mal's mouth more fire leapt from her staff, burning its way across the grass to encircle Lycus where he lay trapped in ice.
With a growl, Lycus burst from the melting ice, standing for a moment amidst the flames that flickered in his eyes and reflected off his sickles, before he leapt clear of the fire.
"Thanks, Mal," he said. "I appreciate it."
Mal's response was to surge to her feet and lunge for Pyrrha, arms outstretched, fire erupting from out of her mouth, seeking to engulf Pyrrha in the flames of mouth and cloak and staff too, the staff that she brandished in one hand.
Pyrrha raised her shield, letting the flames break upon Akoúo̱, washing over it a little, heating her face, licking at her aura, but not doing nearly as much as they would have done otherwise. And while she covered her face with Akoúo̱, she threw Miló the short distance between the two of them, striking Mal square on the chest to put her aura into the red.
"Mal Sapphire's aura has been depleted in the first elimination of this match!" Doctor Oobleck cried as Mal, knocked back, flopped onto the ground. "Metaphorical first blood to Team Sapphire!"
"He's getting away!" Jaune yelled.
Pyrrha returned her attention to Lycus, who had evaded Jaune's attempts to snare him in more ice and was fleeing away from them, running towards the gravity platforms, where Ruby was perched.
And where Sunset was locked in combat with Phoebe Kommenos.
XxXxX
The thunderous boom of Crescent Rose swept all else away.
Mountain Glenn, Adam, all gone. Sunset was in the Amity Colosseum again, fighting in the Vytal Festival Tournament, fighting… fighting against Thorn Hubert, who was lying on his back a few feet away from her.
Anger surged through Sunset, making her ears droop, making her bare her teeth. He had done something to her, he had used his semblance that they hadn't known about, he had…
And Ruby had saved her.
Sunset turned back as she scrambled to her feet; she saw Ruby, precariously balanced upon the highest pinnacle of the gravity platform, and she could see Phoebe, distinctive by the tall, green crest of her helmet, on one of the lower platforms, trying to reach her.
It wasn't fear that made her teleport, it wasn't that she was afraid of getting another dose of Thorn's semblance, no, it was a sound tactical decision based on the strengths and weaknesses of the team.
That was why she teleported away, appearing on top of the smaller pillar that lay in Phoebe's path, between Phoebe and Ruby.
"Ruby!" Sunset yelled. "Focus on Thorn, okay? Leave this to me."
"Sniper duel?" Ruby called down.
"Sniper duel," Sunset replied.
Phoebe growled wordlessly beneath her helmet. "Don't get cocky, my little pony."
"You made me cocky when you paid Bolin Hori to fight me instead of facing me yourself," Sunset reminded her. "Why didn't you get your teammate to do it?"
Phoebe snorted. "It was beneath the dignity of an upperclassman to brawl with a first year."
"But it wasn't beneath your dignity to pay someone to beat me up?"
"If concepts like dignity and honour are to have any utility at all then they must evolve with the times," Phoebe declared. "I hired a huntsman to do me a service. I thought that was rather the point. Or did you mistake me for Pyrrha, so wedded to the old ways that I would seek her out for yet another… that I would seek her out, despite all the evidence of past experience?"
"I underestimated you," Sunset admitted. She put one hand to her shoulder, and with a touch of aura she ignited all the dust woven into her jacket, the flames of crimson and gold spreading across her back and shoulders, a burning cape settling upon her. "But I'm glad to have this chance to take you down myself."
She drew Soteria across her back, and as with her cape she ignited the fire dust and let the flames spread up the black blade.
"That's mine!" Phoebe snarled.
Sunset smirked. "Then come and get it."
She barely heard Crescent Rose firing above her. Sunset was wholly focused upon Phoebe as the lady of the Kommenos family charged at her.
Phoebe slung her shield back upon her back as she leapt, gripping her long spear in both hands. The gravity of the pillar seized her in its embrace, carrying her to the column's side where she landed upon her feet.
Sunset charged down the pillar to reach her; if she remained atop it the column then she would be unable to reach Phoebe with her sword even while Phoebe could reach her with her spear perfectly well. And so she charged, running down the side of the column with Soteria swept back for a strike.
Phoebe struck first, thrusting with her spear and forcing Sunset to parry, beating the thrust aside.
Phoebe thrust again, Sunset parried again. Phoebe twirled, almost like Pyrrha did but not as smooth or graceful, whirling her spear in her hands as she tried to sweep Sunset's legs out from underneath her.
Sunset jumped over Phoebe's sweeping spear, aiming a kick at her in the process. Phoebe caught the blow on the shaft of her spear, twisting it — and Sunset's foot — so that she was in danger of slamming face-first into the side of the column.
The lights on the pillar changed from white to purple.
With nothing holding either of them anywhere close to the column, they both began to fall. Sunset angled herself with her back to Phoebe, to hopefully land on top of her with her phoenix flames burning, but Phoebe was able to kick off the column and float back to the low platform where she'd started, landing on her feet once more.
Sunset did likewise, pushing herself off with one hand to just about make it into the gravitational pull of the low platform. With one hand she fired a bolt of magic at Phoebe, hitting her on the chest and knocking her back but not, unfortunately, knocking her clean off the platform. Phoebe rolled to her feet, tower shield once more half before her, and charged at Sunset so as to bull into her and knock her off her feet.
Sunset jumped out of the way, throwing herself sideways and upwards, borne onto one of the slightly higher platforms on her left. She turned in midair, magic leaping from her fingers as she floated. Phoebe turned to her, taking the magical blasts upon her shield.
Yes, Sunset had left the way to Ruby open, but if Phoebe tried to take it then she opened up her flank to Sunset in turn, while if Phoebe wanted Sunset and Soteria then Sunset had the high ground.
Sunset stood on the edge of the platform, Soteria raised and gripped in both hands.
Phoebe faced her, looking up.
Phoebe discarded her shield for a moment, splitting her spear into two smaller, lighter, javelin-looking weapons, one of which she hurled at Sunset.
She missed, the javelin flew past her shoulder and Sunset needed to do nothing to help it in its way.
Phoebe leapt, and as she leapt what Sunset was now certain was a dust crystal in her vambrace began to glow purple. Phoebe leapt up and over Sunset, tucking her legs up beneath her, rolling in mid-air, unfolding her legs to—
Sunset struck her legs as she moved to land, slashing at them with Soteria, the flaming sword slicing at Phoebe's aura to knock her flat onto her chest and face.
Just as Phoebe's javelin, summoned back to her, struck Sunset in the gut.
Her cuirass meant that she did not double over, but she was knocked off the edge of the platform, floating down to the platform below.
The javelin, summoned by the gravity dust, flew back to Phoebe's hand. She reformed her spear into one double-pointed weapon.
The two of them stared at one another.
At least, Sunset assumed that Phoebe was looking at her.
Sunset teleported up onto the platform next to her, on Phoebe's unshielded side. She slashed at her with Soteria once, twice.
Phoebe staggered, but turned, presenting her shield to Sunset. The ring of fire dust crystals surrounding the shield boss began to glow a moment before they exploded, a blast of fire emerging with a roar to engulf Sunset before she could conjure up a shield to protect herself. She felt her aura drop as the flames washed over her, but she wasn't eliminated yet.
Nevertheless, she retreated to the edge of the platform, throwing Soteria and using telekinesis instead of her hands to guide the blade, weaving it around Phoebe's spear and shield, striking past her defences in a way that, in all honesty, she would never have been able to do up close.
With a snarl of irritation Phoebe rushed at Sunset, ignoring the black and burning sword that harassed her, but by then Sunset had torn off her jacket and flung it at Phoebe.
Phoebe faltered, seeking to avoid the burning flames as they swooped down on her, dodging around her shield, avoiding her spear.
"Mal Sapphire has been eliminated! Metaphorical first blood for Team Sapphire!"
There was another blaring klaxon sound.
"And Thorn Hubert has also been eliminated!" Professor Port declared. "But not before he unleashed his last attack!"
XxXxX
As soon as Sunset called out to her, Ruby put Phoebe from her mind. Sunset would take care of it.
Her focus was on Thorn Hubert.
After Sunset had teleported away he must have realised that he was now on the wrong side of the ice, separated from all relevance to the battle, and while he could have moved forward to get around the ice wall that way, instead he had decided to mimic Ruby by getting to higher ground. He turned, and ran for the mountain at the rear of Team PSTL's half of the battlefield.
Unluckily for him, Ruby was already on the higher ground, as she reminded him when she shot him again. She estimated that one more hit would take him out.
Unluckily for Ruby, she had to reload.
Ruby ejected the spent magazine, letting it drop down to the floor of the arena, pulling another from a pouch on her belt and slotting it smoothly into the magazine well. She worked the bolt, chamfering her first round. The whole process took seconds, at best, but they were seconds in which Thorn had loosed a quartet of arrows in her direction.
Ruby took cover, retreating onto the reverse side of the column — the lights had switched from purple to white, and the soles of her feet stuck to the black surface once more, but just in case she kept herself hooked to the top of the column with the blade of Crescent Rose — until the arrows passed overhead.
By the time Ruby regained her position on top of the column, Thorn was leaping up the mountain in a zig-zag that made his movements hard to track, she couldn't predict where he was going to go in order to get a shot at him. Ruby scowled as she watched him through her scope, leaping from point to point, until he had almost reached the top of the mountain. She would get him then, he would have to stop if he wanted to loose at all.
He leapt instead. As he had nearly reached the top he jumped off the mountain, surprising Ruby so much that she was late off the mark in tracking him, and rolling as he hit the ground, rolling into cover behind some rocks at the foot of the mountain.
Ruby resisted the urge to take a shot out of sheer pique.
Thorn showed himself, bow drawn back, arrow on string, he emerged from out of cover.
Ruby shot.
Thorn loosed.
Ruby's shot hit Thorn, sending his aura into the red even as it threw him to the ground.
But Thorn's arrow soared up into the air, up and up towards the shield, and then, with a pop like the explosion of a modest firework, it burst into a hundred, no more than that, there were hundreds of them, hundreds of fragments falling gently down like shooting stars upon the battlefield.
XxXxX
As he saw the fragments of Thorn's last arrow begin to fall, seeming as though they were going to fall everywhere across the battlefield, Jaune was reminded of what Rainbow had said: that they were like missiles.
And they were falling everywhere.
He couldn't do anything for Sunset or Ruby, but Pyrrha was right on front of him and he could certainly do something for her, and so Jaune rushed to her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as he spread his semblance over, the golden light spreading from his hands to engulf her, shimmering over her like dawn's rays chasing away the darkness.
Boosting her aura as the bombs came down.
They fell everywhere. They shattered the wall of ice that Mal had made, sending it crashing down in shattered icy chunks, they tore up grass and earth all around. They exploded, and Jaune could feel the explosions pounding on his aura, hammering it, tearing at it. He could feel his aura dropping as the explosions burst all around, but he kept his grip on Pyrrha, and he kept his semblance. She was going to be still in the fight when the explosion cleared, he guaranteed it.
XxXxX
As the bombs — or whatever they were technically called — started to fall, Sunset teleported up onto the highest pinnacle with Ruby, throwing up a tight shield around them both, a barrier of green magic like a cocoon enveloping them, so close that it was practically touching the top of Sunset's head as she crouched down with Ruby.
Explosions burst upon the shield like fiery flowers blooming, explosions blossoming then fading just as quickly. They burst upon the tip of the shield, but Sunset could see them exploding elsewhere too, even tearing holes in some of the gravity platforms, not to mention the grass and the central hexagon.
She couldn't see any of Team PSTL, those still in the fight or those who had been eliminated; she couldn't really see Jaune or Pyrrha, but as the explosions threw up soil and smoke she could still see a light, a shimmering white-golden light, that told her Jaune was there, and that he was protecting Pyrrha.
The explosions died down. The skies cleared, the smoke began to drift away, revealing that the higher platform on which Sunset and Phoebe had fought had a trio of holes ripped in it, with the gravity dust within the platforms plain to see, while the lesser pillar that formed part of the way up to their high column was gone completely. The lower platforms also loomed as though it had taken a hit, but as the smoke cleared Sunset was glad to be able to make out her jacket looking intact, although it had ceased to burn.
"Are you okay?" Sunset asked Ruby, as dispelled her shield.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Ruby replied. "You?"
"That last one hit my magic hard," Sunset said. "But I've been careful with using it so far, so I'll be fine. Can you see Phoebe or Lycus?"
Ruby shook her head. "No, I— no, wait! There she is!"
She pointed, and Sunset followed the line of her outstretched hand and pointed finger to where Phoebe had just emerged from underneath a platform, having obviously taken shelter there from the barrage. Now she began to run and leap, crossing the distance between herself and the tall pillar atop which they stood.
Lycus joined her, emerging himself from beneath the rearmost platform, at least it seemed as though he was going to join her in the same direction before Pyrrha flew into him like a javelin, knocking him off course and giving him more than enough to worry about without helping Phoebe at all.
Nor did Phoebe make any move to help him. She kept on coming for Ruby and Sunset, as before.
Ruby raised Crescent Rose.
"No," Sunset said. "Or at least… I'd rather finish her myself."
"Okay, then," Ruby said, lowering her weapon. "I've got mine, get yours."
"Much obliged," Sunset said, as she searched for Soteria, hopeful that it, too, had— yes! There it was!
She kept her eye on it, but as yet made no move to grab it with her telekinesis.
Rather, she waited for Phoebe, letting her come on, letting her run across platforms and up columns.
Sunset waited until she had reached the tallest column, Ruby's column, and was running up it, before she charged downwards to meet.
Phoebe had her spear, and her shield, and all her sable raiment of war. Sunset had no weapons, not even a jacket. All she had were the vambraces on her wrists, infused with lightning dust.
Yet she charged down towards Phoebe like a bull in the field that has spotted a rival.
Phoebe let out a loud war cry as she thrust her spear, overarm, towards Sunset.
Sunset caught the blow, feeling the force of Phoebe's thrust jar her arm, feeling her aura drop, nevertheless she grabbed the spear with one hand, gloved fingers closing around the metal shaft just behind the tip.
Her other hand touched her vambrace, and with her aura activated the lightning dust.
Lighting erupted out of the shining metal vambraces, crackling, snarling, snapping like a pack of hunting dogs, lashing out in all directions, snapping up the metal shaft of Phoebe's spear towards her.
The lightning rippled up and down Phoebe's cuirass, snapping as it bit and tore at her aura. Phoebe jerked and twitched in pain, half-coherent sounds of pain emerged out of her helmet-concealed mouth.
And as Phoebe jerked and twitched, as she writhed, as the lightning devoured her aura, Sunset grabbed Soteria on the grip of her telekinesis and pulled it towards her, dragging it swiftly through the air.
The black sword flew up the side of the column and struck Phoebe from behind just as Sunset let go of Phoebe's spear.
Phoebe's back arched, she cried out in pain, and she lost her footing on the vertical surface.
Sunset brought Soteria down upon her one last time, from the front, knocking her off the pillar and sending her falling down, plummeting like an angel cast from heaven, towards the floor of the battlefield below.
"Phoebe Kommenos has been eliminated!" Doctor Oobleck yelled as the klaxon sounded. "Team Sapphire is only one more elimination away from a clean sweep!"
"And for the record," Sunset yelled down at her. "I would have kicked your ass the first time if you hadn't been too chicken to face me!"
XxXxX
"Jaune," Pyrrha said, an edge of anxiety in her voice as the smoke of the explosions cleared. Thanks to Jaune her aura was completely intact, in fact it was full again. "Are you alright? How's your aura?"
"A little run down," Jaune admitted, a touch of laughter in his voice. "But I'll be fine. How about—"
"I'm okay," Pyrrha told him. "Thanks to you."
She looked around, to see Lycus emerge from his cover beneath one the gravity platforms, and start leaping up them towards Ruby — and Sunset, who was up there with her now — even as Phoebe started to do the same.
She wouldn't be able to intercept either of them on foot, swift as she was they were just too far away. But…
She looked apologetically at Jaune. "Do you have enough aura left to give me a boost?"
Jaune grinned. "Of course." He recovered his shield, and held it up at an angle facing towards the damaged gravity platforms. "Hop on."
Pyrrha smiled, and as she smiled she leapt up onto Jaune's shield, balancing upon it with her arms out and her knees bent. She could feel Jaune's semblance, so soft and warm, like bathing in sunbeams, creeping up her hugs, even as Pyrrha concentrated her own aura in her legs.
She kicked off, jumping like a frog, propelled by her concentrated aura, enhanced by Jaune's semblance, flying through the air like a human spear towards her target.
She switched Miló from spear mode into sword in her hand as she flew.
Pyrrha intercepted Lycus in mid-leap, bearing him sideways, Pyrrha's momentum great enough to overcome the pull of the gravity dust upon her. She slashed at him with her sword while he could only flail in response — she had much more experience fighting in mid-air than he did, and it showed — slicing him across the torso once, twice, three times before switching Miló fluidly into spear mode and smiting him hard enough on the breast to send him flying backwards into the nearest pillar with a thud.
Pyrrha began to drift slowly towards that same pillar — too slowly for her liking. She let go of Akoúo̱, letting her shield be pulled forward by gravity while she kicked off it to accelerate herself, landing underneath Lycus and grabbing his boot—
No, not a boot, a trainer.
Pyrrha looked up. Jaune stared down at her, eyes wide with fear.
Pyrrha hesitated, grip on his foot loosening.
He tried to kick her in the face, but Pyrrha swayed aside, her ponytail swinging behind her, and instantly her grip upon his foot tightened again as she spun on her toes, bodily hurling Lycus over her shoulder and slamming face-first into the side of the pillar.
Lycus, now looking like himself again, groaned as he pushed himself off the column and floated onto the nearest platform. "Seriously?"
"Jaune wouldn't try and kick me," Pyrrha said.
Lycus grunted. He brought his two sickles together, a long shaft extending between the two of them to form a single, double-bladed weapon.
"Okay," he said, twirling his new weapon. "Let's do this."
Akoúo̱ was still drifting towards her. Pyrrha reached out to catch it, settling it on her arm for a moment before slinging it across her back. The two-handed spear would serve her better against Lycus' longer weapon.
She kicked off the pillar just as the white light turned to purple. The lights on the platform on which Lycus stood also turned purple, so there was no gravity to pull her towards the platform, only her own momentum which carried her over Lycus and behind him.
They charged at one another, weapons swinging. Pyrrha parried his downwards stroke with one blade, turned it away, tried to sweep his legs only to be parried in turn by his second blade. She slashed at him with the point but he retreated, he slashed at her legs but she leapt over his blade. They blocked one another with their shafts, whirling their weapons in their hands, weaving delicate shapes in the air with them as they blurred.
The clack clack of their clashing weapons rang in Pyrrha's ears. She did not feel at all in danger, but openings were a little hard to come by.
She leapt backwards, rolling over in the air, releasing Miló with one hand to pull Akoúo̱ off her back and hurl it straight at him.
Lycus deflected it, batting the shield away, but in so doing left himself open as Pyrrha followed, switching Miló from spear to sword.
With her free hand she grabbed Lycus' weapon, pulling it towards her.
With her other hand she slashed him across the belly. She spun around, slashing at him again as he let go of his weapon, letting her throw it away rather than throw him away.
He threw a punch at her, and then another, but Pyrrha dodged them both, slashing at him once more, twice more driving him back to the edge of the platform before she kicked him off it.
The lights around the nearest pillar had turned from purple back to white, and he floated towards it, but his aura had dropped into the red.
The klaxon sounded.
"And Lycus Silvermane, last member of Team Pastel, has been eliminated!" Professor Port cried, his words half drowned out by the sound of the cheering that Pyrrha became once again aware of, as though her ear drums had popped and she was only now becoming able to hear once more.
"The winners of this match are Team Sapphire of Beacon."
Pyrrha closed her eyes as the applause fell on her like rain. They had won. They had passed the first test. They had won. It was over.
The end had begun, and she hoped it had begun well.
"Pyrrha!"
Pyrrha opened her eyes to see Sunset leaping from pillar to platform towards her, a bright smile on her face and joyous laughter spilling out of her mouth. "We won!" she yelled, as she flew through the air towards Pyrrha, drawn towards her as if by the bond between them.
Even if it was really gravity dust doing the pulling.
"We won!" Sunset yelled again.
Pyrrha laughed, Sunset's smile infecting her. "Yes," she said. "Yes, we did."
Sunset landed on the platform before her, and no sooner had she landed than she enveloped Pyrrha in a hug.
"We won!" she repeated with a childlike glee. "Congratulations to us!"
Pyrrha put her arms around Sunset. "We won," she agreed. "Congratulations to all of us."
Phoebe lay on the ground, the gravity platforms, overshadowed by said platforms as she was by so much else.
She lay in shadow, listening to the cheering of the crowd.
Cheering that was not for her.
It was Pyrrha that they cheered for: Pyrrha again, Pyrrha as always, Pyrrha once more, Pyrrha and that cursed faunus who flaunted Phoebe's birthright in front of her.
She had lost, again. She had failed, again. Pyrrha had triumphed over her once more, and now, she reaped the rewards: the love of the commons, applause falling upon her from all sides, progression in the tournament.
And now she was retiring! She would climb to the top, plant the greatest of laurels upon her brow, and then declare herself to be done. She would walk away, her reputation secured — more than secured, it would be unassailable. Not until someone came who could claim five consecutive tournament triumphs would she be spoken of in Mistral with anything but reverence and awe. Jealousy would persist, of course; in fact, it would be magnified, but who would dare speak openly against her? If she were to win the Vytal Tournament, was there any possibility that the Temple of Victory would strip her of her honours? When she had done what no Mistralian had done in forty years and brought the Vytal glory home?
The Evenstar indeed, such a light as had not been seen in Mistral these ages past.
Such a star to be so well beloved, and so accompanied. She had not even needed to see to Phoebe's defeat herself, but rather handed off responsibility to her faithful acolyte, that faunus, Sunset Shimmer, bearer of Soteria.
Phoebe would gladly eat her raw.
She was a scion of the House of Kommenos. Her ancestors had fought at Cynoscephelae and Raphia, her great-grandfather had fought alongside the Valish King at the Battle of Four Sovereigns…
Had fought against his home, his people, his Emperor.
There were some who said that the House of Kommenos was cursed, condemned by their own treason, detested by the gods for oathbreakers and rebels.
And as she lay there, in the shadows, listening to the crowd cheer her defeat and downfall, Phoebe found that she could well believe it.
Perhaps the valour of her house had died with Achates Kommenos. How else to explain the fact that she was such a failure?
She could not triumph over her rival, she could not win back her family sword, she could bring neither honour nor glory to her name or house. She could do nothing.
She was nothing.
She was the heir to an old name and a storied line, and she was nothing. She had nothing.
Neither honour nor love.
Nothing.
She lay in shadow.
Beneath her helmet, Phoebe began to weep. She would have been grateful that the helmet concealed her face, but honestly, nobody was looking at her in any case.
The shadows deepened. Someone was standing over her: Pyrrha, with Sunset Shimmer hovering diffident nearby, at one watching and trying not to watch. Lycus was there too, face downcast, eyes on the ground, but it was Pyrrha who stood over her, looking down on Phoebe as she always had.
She held out her hand to Phoebe. "You fought well," she said. "Your strategy quite took us by surprise."
She held out her hand. She held out her hand? She had the gall, the sheer barefaced audacity, to hold out her hand and murmur words conciliatory after this? After all that she had done!
She held out her hand!
Phoebe raised her head enough to spit on Pyrrha's outstretched hand.
"Choke on your insincerity; I need it not," Phoebe spat. She got up herself, without any assistance from Pyrrha. "I will not play my part in this dumbshow of yours, this performance of magnanimity for crowd and camera. Get you gone! Go and celebrate your victory."
"You'd know—" Sunset began, but fell silent at a raise of Pyrrha's hand.
"I…" Pyrrha began, trailing before she had said much. "I'm sorry," she said. "It was not my intent to give offence."
She turned away, began to walk off, leaving Phoebe behind, as she had already done in all ways else.
Her creature lingered a moment longer, giving Phoebe a sour look with those sullen eyes of hers.
They reminded Phoebe of her wretched stepsister; she had been one for sullen looks as well, always watching, staring, challenging Phoebe. No matter how Phoebe beat her, she was always watching.
Knowing that she had perished in the same fire that consumed her mother and sister had been the one small consolation in the whole miserable affair.
In any case, Pyrrha's faunus watched her for a moment, then turned away, following her mistress like a good little dog.
As the victors left her behind, Lycus approached. He moved slowly, diffidently, head bowed, not looking her in the eye.
"I … I'm sorry, my lady," he murmured. "We did…"
He trailed off again. Had he been about to tell her that they had done all they could? She found herself very glad that he had kept that to himself; it was … it made no difference. If they had done all they could, and yet had failed to eliminate even a single member of Team SAPR, not even Jaune Arc … then that just went to show how worthless and wretched they were.
Phoebe didn't answer him. She turned away, her eyes on Pyrrha and Sunset as they walked to join Jaune and Ruby.
As she watched, Sunset put one arm around Pyrrha's shoulder.
Phoebe didn't know what offended her more, that Sunset did it or that Pyrrha allowed it.
Lycus reached out to put a hand upon her shoulder. "My lady—"
"Don't touch me!" Phoebe snapped as she pulled away from him. "Remember your place."
Lycus bowed his head even lower. "Yes, my lady. I … should have done more."
His admission of error took some of the anger out of her, deflating like a balloon. While she remained angry, it was harder to be angry at someone who had confessed their fault than who attempted to defend themselves.
Instead of him, it was on Sunset and Pyrrha fully on whom Phoebe found her wrath focussed. Look at them, so happy, so carefree, so … so insulting to Phoebe and her struggles. It was disrespectful, insolent, impertinent. It was not to be borne!
Phoebe snatched her spear up from the ground.
XxXxX
"Sunset did very well in the end, didn't she, Professor?" Plum said.
"Yes," agreed Doctor Diggory. "She gave a rather good account of herself, after…" He elided over what had come before, rather murmuring, "Remarkably versatile semblance, she has."
"Why did she get so scared?" Plum asked. "That's what they said, wasn't it? That's what the boy did to her?"
"Yes," Doctor Diggory agreed. "Yes, that was his semblance. To all intents and purposes, at least."
"But she got very scared," Plum said.
"She must have a lot to be scared of," said Malmsey Scrub.
"Quite so, Mister Scrub," agreed Doctor Diggory. "It is an unfortunate truth that huntsmen and huntresses see much which is liable to remain with them, much that, if recalled, may cause them great anguish. No doubt that is the case with Miss Shimmer, for which she has my most sincere regret and deepest sympathies."
XxXxX
Terri-Belle got to her feet. "As expected, in many ways."
Swift Foot nodded. "Pyrrha didn't eliminate all four members of the opposition, but I thought she did well enough."
"She will do better with fewer teammates," Terri-Belle muttered. "But yes, she did well enough. But as I told you, it is Arslan Altan who of all the warriors of Mistral has most impressed this day."
Swift Foot smiled. "Do you think she might defeat Pyrrha, finally?"
"No," Terri-Belle declared, a note of scorn entering her voice. "No, she will not do that, but they will talk of her tonight, more than of Pyrrha Nikos or any other."
"Possibly," Swift Foot agreed. She frowned, tossing her long, wavy hair. "I feel sorry for Lady Kommenos."
Terri-Belle's eyebrows rose. "For what reason?"
"For the reason of our class," Swift Foot replied. "We are called to be warriors, it is our born purpose; to be anything else, to have a trade, a profession, is … shameful, subject for mockery—"
"One may be a lawyer without shame," Terri-Belle pointed out.
"Only because the law in Mistral is an extension of politics," Swift Foot said, "and even then, one is looked down on still if one is not also a warrior."
Terri-Belle found she could scarcely argue with that. "We are born to be shepherds of the people, true."
"Imagine how it must feel to be just bad at it," Swift Foot said. "To be bad at the one thing that, above all others and all else, is expected of your birth or valued by your peers."
Terri-Belle was silent a moment. "You would have a point," she admitted, "save that I am not convinced she is so poor at it. In personal combat, perhaps, but leadership? Tactics? She surprised Team Sapphire—"
"But her plan failed," Swift Foot pointed out. "Badly. And not just because she had bad luck: her plan called for one guy to keep Pyrrha and her team leader tied up; it was never going to work."
"At least she had a plan," Terri-Belle replied, "and we have need of those with wit as well as with strong spear arms. I will make a place for her in the Guard, if she will have it." She turned away. "But now I must go; I have work to catch up on."
"You won't come back to watch the second round draw, I take it," Swift Foot said.
"No," Terri-Belle declared. "Let me know if anything interesting results from it."
XxXxX
"You know, I had no idea if they were any good or not," Leaf observed. "But they were, weren't they?"
"Mmhmm," Veil agreed. "Although I thought your friend Sunset was gonna lose it for a second there."
"I think she did lose it," Leaf replied. "That was weird, wasn't it? Like … sure, that guy had a semblance, but still … what could make someone freak out like that?"
XxXxX
Diana groaned. "Pyrrha didn't take out everybody," she grumbled.
"Maybe she was giving everyone else a chance," Serena suggested. "Like in school?"
Diana knew what she meant. School sports, they were constantly reminded, were about participation, not skill.
That didn't make being bad at netball any easier.
"You're probably right," she agreed. "Pyrrha's just being nice. It's just like her, when you think about it."
XxXxX
Saphron whooped with glee, leaping up off the sofa with Adrian held up in her arms.
Adrian raised his own little hands, gurgling excitedly whether he understood what mommy was excited about or not.
"Yay! They did it!" Saphron cried. "Uncle Jaune and Auntie Pyrrha—"
"That's still weird," Terra muttered, but despite her tone there was a fine smile playing across her face. "Now, I ask you, was that boring?"
"No, no, it wasn't," Saphron admitted. "No, it wasn't, Adrian, was it? Was it?"
Adrian gurgled.
"I'm sure he like the bright colours, even if he didn't recognise Jaune or Pyrrha," Saphron said. "I do kind of wish that Jaune had gotten to do something cooler, but I don't suppose that was ever on the cards."
"He didn't disgrace himself," Terra pointed out.
"No, he didn't," Saphron agreed, "and I guess, so long as he's satisfied with himself, that's all that really matters."
XxXxX
"To be honest," River said. "I was hoping for a little more from Jaune."
"Give your brother a break; he only started training this year," Dad pointed out. "A lot of students have been training half their lives. It's impressive he held his own."
"Impressive and thanks to Pyrrha," Kendal said.
"Right," Sky said. "Thanks to Pyrrha. So let's not be down on Jaune, okay? Let's just be happy for both of them that they got the win and wish Pyrrha well from all of us and best of luck in the next round."
XxXxX
As they walked towards their teammates, and towards the other two members of Team PSTL, the crowd felt almost as distant from Sunset as they had been during the battle itself. Not quite so distant — she could actually hear them now, their cheers like the crimson leaves of the Forever Fall falling downwards upon their heads — but at the same time, it still didn't feel like they were really there with Sunset and the others.
They were separated, by more than just distance, like gods observing the goings-on of the little world encompassed by the arena, or ghosts observing the living but unable to interact with them.
And yet, it was good to hear them nonetheless.
"I must admit," Sunset said, "I struggle with the fact that you don't like this."
Pyrrha chuckled. "No doubt it seems to you very fine?"
"It is … not displeasing to the ear," Sunset admitted.
"But imagine it was all your ears could hear," Pyrrha said. "No kind words from a friend sincerely meant, no honest counsel, no love's whisperings, nothing but the cheers descending from far off." She smiled. "Like sugar, it is best in limited doses."
"But it can be enjoyed," Sunset said, slipping an arm around Pyrrha's shoulders, "as part of a balanced diet."
They drew close to the others. Jaune turned towards Pyrrha, a smile beginning to crawl across his face like the rays of dawn across the surface of the world. "How did it go?"
Pyrrha wiped her hand — the hand that Phoebe had spat on — upon her sash. It was not the first time she had done so since Phoebe spat on it. "It … wasn't well received, unfortunately."
Mal Sapphire winced. "Sorry about that," she murmured. "Phoebe is … switching it off after a match is difficult for her."
Sunset thought that was being very generous, but did not say so. Instead, letting her arm fall from Pyrrha's shoulder, she said, "You fought well."
"You fought better, obviously," Mal said quietly. "But thanks anyway. Phoebe thought that you'd expect us to focus on Pyrrha Nikos, and you did, didn't you."
"Yes," Sunset said. "Yeah, we did." Her gaze flickered to Thorn. "You've got a nasty semblance, if I may say."
"Are there any bad semblances?" Ruby asked. "Or just bad uses?"
"I'd say the second one, obviously," Thorn replied. He scratched his elbow with one hand. "It doesn't usually affect people as badly as that. I didn't know what it would do to you."
"But you still took advantage of it," Sunset pointed out.
Thorn shrugged. "We were in a battle."
Sunset couldn't really argue with that, so she didn't even try. Instead, she returned her attention to Mal. "Can I ask you something? How do you get that cool green effect with your flames?"
Mal blinked. "You mean on my cape? You like that?"
"Yeah!" Sunset cried enthusiastically. "It really stands out. What are you doing?"
"Copper shavings," Mal explained. "I adulterate the fire dust with copper to get the green colour."
Sunset's brow furrowed slightly. "Doesn't that reduce the intensity of the flames?"
"They don't burn as well, no," Mal admitted. "But I think it's worth it."
Sunset might have said something else, had Pyrrha not at that moment shoved her roughly aside.
Sunset stumbled, righted herself, opened her mouth to question Pyrrha when she saw Phoebe Kommenos charging towards Pyrrha, spear aimed at her back.
Pyrrha was already moving; she had shoved Sunset aside to clear the space around her, and now, she flowed like water, sash whirling, pulling Akoúo̱ across her back to turn the blow.
Sunset fired before that was necessary, a bolt of magic leaping from her outstretched palm to hit Phoebe in the side and send her flying. Thorn and Mal rushed to her side, as did Lycus as he ran to catch up with her.
Pyrrha glanced at her. "Please don't think me churlish, but was that necessary?"
"As far as I'm concerned, yes," Sunset growled, as she stomped past Pyrrha and the others towards Phoebe. "What was that, huh? You trying to land a late hit on my teammate?"
Phoebe roared with frustration as she leapt to her feet and had to be restrained by Thorn from throwing herself on Sunset. She tore her helmet off her head, and Sunset could see that there were tears in her eyes. "This is not over, you filthy, disgusting, flea-ridden little thief! Thorn! Let go of me this instant!"
"Yeah, Thorn, let her go," Sunset said. "Try it; I'll toss you clean off this stage!"
"Sunset, stop," Pyrrha insisted, grabbing Sunset by one shoulder and hauling her back sufficiently for Pyrrha to get in front of her, planting herself between Sunset and Phoebe. "Sunset, this is not seemly."
"Don't turn your back on me, Pyrrha!" Phoebe raged. "Don't you dare turn your back on me!"
"The battle is over, Lady Kommenos," Pyrrha declared, her voice weighty and firm. "The only thing you do by this is shame yourself."
XxXxX
"I never liked her," Juturna said as they watched Phoebe try — and fail, obviously — to get free of her own teammates and attack Pyrrha. Like that was going to work.
Fun to watch, though, Juturna thought as she munched on some popcorn.
"This is an absurd display," Turnus said, getting up and turning his back on the whole affair. "Pointless and ridiculous in equal measure."
"She is in grief," Camilla pointed out. "It can conjure strong passions."
"Perhaps it can, but what does she hope to accomplish by it?" Turnus demanded.
"I … know not, my lord," Camilla admitted. "I cannot see into her mind. Or her heart." She paused. "The rest of the battle was enjoyable, I thought."
"Team Sapphire fought well, but so did Team Pastel," Turnus declared. "Better than might have been expected. Phoebe led her team better than might have been expected. Which is why it is so … disappointing that she has chosen to sully her reputation thus."
XxXxX
Cinder tsked and tutted and clicked her tongue as she beheld Phoebe's outburst, watching as she raged and screamed and wept and hurled herself against the force of her own teammates as she sought to reach her disdainful adversaries.
It was a delight to see, and all the more delightful for giving Cinder the ability to make moralising mock of her.
"Such a poor sport she is," Cinder murmured, shaking her head sadly.
A smile crept across Cinder's face as a thief creeps into an empty house to steal the treasure within. "And yet," she went on, "Phoebe being so poor a sport, I think we may have sport with her." She leapt to her feet, her glass slippers tapping loudly on the floor. "Come, Emerald, attend me. We have business in the city."
Emerald looked from Cinder to the scroll and back again. "Now?"
"This very night, presently, at once," Cinder replied. She paused. "Yes, now, come, come, up, up!"
"But…" Emerald began, "the second round picks—"
"We'll find them out tomorrow, ere the contests recommence," Cinder said. "This will not wait."
"Won't— I mean, will it not?" asked Emerald. "What business, what rush, what sport, what is all this?"
That was a fair question, for all that Cinder was somewhat loath to give the answer. She would have preferred obedience absolute and based on faith. "You asked that with a pretty tongue," she said softly.
Emerald stood up. "I would rather be answered than be flattered."
Cinder chuckled. "I'm very proud of you nevertheless. Well, since you ask so prettily, I … I know Phoebe Kommenos by … reputation. By reputation of dark deeds, rather. Defeated as she is, humiliated as she has been, enraged as you can see she is, she will this night seek out cruel consolation." It had ever been so. Those had been the worst of Cinder's nights, when Phoebe, beaten, would render Cinder black and blue in turn and … worse besides.
It was not a cause for hate she could admit to Sunset, still less to Pyrrha herself, and familiarity had dulled it greatly, but … Cinder had often wondered if it would have pained Pyrrha so much to give Phoebe a victory and spared Cinder thus a night of torment.
"Therefore into Vale we'll go," Cinder went on, "and straight to the skydock to linger thereabouts for Phoebe, and … I fear that I must ask you to play a helpless part, to look a victim, homeless and hungry as you were when we first met, a person of no consequence, one who could die and not be missed, one who could scream and not be heard, one upon whom Phoebe may work her will without fear. Entice her thus, draw her to some dark secluded place…" A little laugh, a low-throated growling rumble of anticipation, escaped her throat and passed her lips. "There shall she find me waiting and be hoisted on her own petard as I have my fatal sport with her that she had thought to have with you." She spread her arms out wide on either side of her. "A fine plot, no?"
"A fine plan," Emerald agreed. "If she comes."
"She will come," Cinder declared. "I know she will."
"How do you know?" Emerald asked. "And why do you care?"
"Ask me not that, Emerald," Cinder said, turning away and striding towards the door. "Ask me not."
"I must help you get into Vale, I have to help you take that risk, but I can't know why?" Emerald demanded, frustration rendering her words more vulgar. "Would Sunset know why? Could you tell her?"
Cinder's eyes narrowed slightly as she looked over her shoulder. "That is unworthy of you to ask."
Once, Emerald would have trembled in fear of Cinder's displeasure. Now, she stood her ground, with all hints of trembling nearly vanished. "I won't help you unless you give me a reason," she said. "The risk of us being seen in Vale, tonight of all nights, when the whole city is alive with celebration … not without a reason. Why do you want her dead? Why should we take the risk for her?"
"Because…" Cinder began, but soon trailed off again. She could have invented reasons, claimed that Phoebe's death — Phoebe, the Mistralian noble and the Atlas student — would set the cat amongst the pigeons; but Emerald would reject such, and rightly too. Such reasons would be weak if they were true.
She could not tell her all the truth. She could not bare her soul to Emerald, confess all her sorrows, unburden herself of the sad story of her early days. Sunset had ripped Cinder's truth from out her soul; she whom Cinder was most content to share it with would never have been granted it voluntarily. Certainly, she would not yield up to Emerald her real name, her history, all the rest. But … though she could not give Emerald the whole truth, still, she could give her something.
She owed her something.
"I know the bitch of old," Cinder declared. "And of old, she … did me injury. I will repay it, with the interest of these years. The time, it seems to me, is fitting now. I owe her a debt, as she owes a death; I mean for them to come due."
"But … why now?" asked Emerald. "You could have killed her when we were at Beacon."
"I was afraid," Cinder said, which was far truer than she would like to admit. Even now, she could not be certain what would become of her when she and Phoebe came face to face again. She could not be certain that she would not become once more poor frightened Ashley, frightened, useless girl. Nevertheless, she had to try. "That if I did so, investigation might lead to our discovery, but now … I may get no better chance than this; I must attempt it."
Emerald was silent, looking into Cinder's eyes, her own eyes of crimson narrowed slightly. "If you must try," she said quietly, "then I must help you. Come, let us go, as your old book says."
Cinder sniggered. "So it does," she agreed. She paused a moment. "You have my thanks. You … you are a good friend to me. Better than my conduct has of times deserved."
"You're the … you are the only friend or family I've ever known," Emerald confessed. "However I can best help you, I will. Let's go, if this will make you happy."
"I hope it will," Cinder replied.
And all the more did she hope that it might bring her peace.
XxXxX
"Kommenos!" The voice of General Ironwood, raised to a bovine bellow, cut through the noise of the crowd. "That is enough!"
The cheering that had greeted Team SAPR's victory had become more infected with boos and jeers, but General Ironwood's voice cut through them all.
The man himself strode onto the field, and as he did so, Team PSTL immediately leapt to attention, even Phoebe, the spear falling from her hands to land with a thud upon the central hexagon.
General Ironwood's hands were clasped behind his back as he bore down upon his students, casting a shadow over even the tallest of them.
"That is enough," he repeated, his voice seeming at once quieter but also sharper at the same time.
Phoebe trembled. "Sir, I—"
"We will discuss your punishment for bringing yourself, your team, and Atlas Academy into disrepute tomorrow morning at oh-seven-hundred hours," General Ironwood declared, cutting her off before she could explain. He turned to Team SAPR. "Team Sapphire, I regret that in addition to congratulations on your victory, I must also offer my apologies for the conduct of my students."
"That's not necessary, sir," Pyrrha murmured.
"Unfortunately, Miss Nikos, it is," General Ironwood declared.
"In which case, sir, the apology is accepted," Sunset replied, with a slight but hopefully noticeable bow of her head.
General Ironwood bowed in turn, a rather more noticeable bow from the waist, one hand upon his heart. He straightened up and turned his gaze — a gaze that seemed to become at once more baleful as he turned it — upon Team PSTL. "Dismissed!"
None of the Atlas students said a word more as they marched away, heading back through the tunnel from which they had first emerged out onto the battlefield.
General Ironwood lingered a moment more, looking around the crowd, listening to the booing and the jeering, then he followed Team PSTL towards their corridor away.
From out the other corridor, the one that Team SAPR had used to enter the arena, emerged out onto the battlefield Professor Ozpin and Skystar Aris. The latter was dressed in Valish green, accented with Atlesian white, Mistralian blue, and even Vacuan yellow. Her dress itself was green, made of a shimmering fabric, with a single shoulder and a diagonal neckline that ran from that shoulder to down beneath her other elbow. Upon her feet, she wore white high-heeled sandals with straps that wound around her ankles halfway up to her knees. Around her wrists, she wore bracelets of yellow amber beads, and a necklace of large blue topazes, each bigger than both of Jaune's thumbs pressed together, hung from about her neck. Her hair was adorned by feathers in all four colours, green, white, blue, and yellow so that she seemed almost some riotous bird of paradise.
She smiled brightly as she approached Team SAPR, although it seemed to Sunset there was something just a little strained about it.
"Congratulations!" she cried.
"Thanks," Sunset said. "We did our best."
"You did really well," Skystar assured them all, before moving to the very centre of the central hexagon.
Professor Ozpin stood by her side silently, a mug of cocoa held idly on one hand.
Skystar raised the microphone she was holding and turned it on.
"Hello, ladies and gentlemen, has this been a great first day of the tournament or what?"
Despite the fact that the day had been a little marred at its very ending very recently, the crowd still gave her a resounding 'YES!' like a sudden thunderclap bursting overhead.
Skystar chuckled. "I just want to thank our contestants, winners and losers, for giving us such entertaining fights, on behalf of Vale and all of us here: your bravery has not gone unnoticed, and your skill is appreciated." She paused. "But it's not over yet! Please don't all rush to leave the coliseum, because in thirty minutes, right here, we will be announcing which students will be moving forward into the two-on-two round and revealing second round match-ups! In thirty minutes, so can we please have all teams which won their first round matches gathered here for that? That's going to be so exciting, so please, stick around; concession stands are still open, grab some more popcorn. And then, after that, the fairground will stay open for the rest of the night. There's also a couple of other events being held in Vale: the Beacon Alumni Society is holding a dinner disco where I'm told that Doctor Oobleck will be DJing; the Iceberg Lounge is holding a celebration of cross-cultural trends in music and refreshment … I think that means music and drinks with influences from outside Atlas; and at the Museum of Arms and Armour, there is a celebration of Mistralian martial arts sponsored by the Mistralian embassy, including Arslan Altan doing a self-defence workshop for children which I think sounds really cool, even if I am probably too old for it." She grinned. "But first: second round picks, right here, in thirty minutes!"
XxXxX
Team SAPR exited the battlefield the same way that they had entered it, passing out of the sight of the crowds and into the corridor that led beneath the stands. Professor Ozpin and Skystar Aris remained behind, although they had a long time to wait until the second round announcements were made. As Team SAPR departed, the mountain and the gravity biomes receded, disappearing into the buried recesses of the Amity Colosseum, replaced with four grey metal quadrants bearing the arms of the four competing academies. The central hexagon, bearing Skystar and Professor Ozpin, elevated upwards above the rest, so that the two were unable to leave even if they wished to.
The cheering and the jeering alike began to die down to a low murmuring, like the rumble of the trembling earth that precedes an avalanche, interspersed with the occasional bursts of 'it's coming home' or other songs that Pyrrha did not recognise.
The four of them were met in the corridor by Penny. Arslan was there too, and Yang, and Rainbow Dash, and Blake, and the rest of Teams YRBN and RSPT; but it was Penny who stood at the forefront, bouncing eagerly upon the balls of her feet, and it was Penny who rushed towards them as soon as they entered the corridor.
"That was incredible!" she cried, sweeping Ruby up onto a hug that swept her off the ground before Penny twirled her around in the air. "You all did so well!" She enveloped Pyrrha in a hug that encompassed Pyrrha's arms, pinning them to her side as Penny squeezed her so tight that Pyrrha would have winced if she had not been smiling. "I'm afraid I was actually a little worried for a moment." She pressed Sunset's head against her shoulder, her fingers interwoven through Sunset's fiery hair. "But you came back and you did it! You were sensational!" She lifted Jaune as far off the ground as their respective heights allowed, which was, as it turned out, not very far.
Sunset chuckled. "I won't hold your momentary lapse of faith against us, Penny. For a second there, I was a little worried myself."
"I told you that Phoebe was a better leader than she was a fighter," Rainbow observed.
"Yes, yes, you did," Sunset accepted. "We … misjudged her."
"How do you mean?" Penny asked. "You weren't expecting her to react so badly to losing? I don't think anybody was expecting that."
"No," Pyrrha murmured. "Although perhaps we should have expected that too. But what Sunset means is that, since Phoebe and I have a history in the arenas of Mistral, we expected that she would make me her priority target, instead of singling out Jaune and Ruby."
"It might not have been what you saw coming, but you made it work," Yang said. "And I think being able to improvise, adapt, and overcome in the heat of the moment is as important as going in with a great plan to start with. You did that; they didn't." She grinned. "Nice shooting out there, Ruby."
"Yes, indeed," Sunset agreed. "Without you, I … that guy's semblance is…"
"Mmm," Blake murmured. "I'm almost glad it was you facing that instead of me. I wouldn't want to have that used on me."
"On the other hand," Twilight said, "I think that for some people, it would hardly affect them at all."
"Small consolation, that, if you are one of those it hits hard," Ciel murmured.
"I don't understand," Penny said. "Why did Phoebe react the way she did?"
Arslan began, "Because she's a complete and utter—"
"Because she is a Mistralian," Pyrrha said.
Arslan frowned at that. "We're all Mistralian, P-money; we don't all act like that."
"Because we are blessed with skill that Phoebe is … not," Pyrrha suggested. "For all that she has gifts in other areas, those areas are not so valued by our society, especially not by the class that she and I share. We live our lives seeking to be the best; even as we recoil on envy from those who are superior to us, we seek both to grow tall and to cut down the tallest. What happens then to those who fall short? For Phoebe, I fear that these are not merely defeats but humiliations, humiliations that she could brook no further."
Penny frowned. "I … you don't make your own kingdom seem very nice, Pyrrha."
Pyrrha smiled and put a hand on Penny's shoulder. "I'm sorry; without doubt, there is much beauty in Mistral, much greatness in its people. It is my home, and as my home, it will always have a claim upon my heart, but … I am neither blind to its grievous faults nor the type to conceal them from my friends."
"I see," Penny said. "I suppose that's a good thing. And I'd still like to see your home one day, with Amber and the rest of you."
"And I would love to show it to you," Pyrrha said. "Now … I know not what we will do to while away these thirty minutes until the second round contestants and match-ups are announced, but if you will all excuse me, I must call upon my mother in her box." She paused. "Actually, would you mind coming with me? Jaune, Sunset, Ruby, I mean. I think that she'd like to speak with all of you, or certainly, she wouldn't be averse to seeing you all after the match."
"And I, for one, have no objection to calling upon my lady," Sunset said.
"Of course you don't," Blake muttered.
"Hey, you know Atlas councillors and generals," Sunset pointed out. "You have lost your right to mock me for my deference."
Blake was quiet a moment. "That's a good point," she admitted. "I'm sorry."
"I'll come too," Jaune added.
"And me too," said Ruby. "Why don't we let you know when we're done and then we can all … get drinks or something while we wait?"
"That sounds wonderful!" Penny said.
"Sure thing," Yang said. "Just send me a text when you're through." She smirked. "Have fun reporting to Pyrrha's mom."
There wasn't much that she could say in response to that, and Pyrrha didn't even try. Instead, leaving the others behind, Pyrrha led her friends upwards, around the great circle of the coliseum and up the various levels into which it was divided, climbing shallow staircases, passing Atlesian androids deployed for security, climbing upwards and upwards, winding around and around, until at last, they came to the private box that her mother had purchased for herself.
Hestia stood … not guard, exactly — she was no warrior — but she offered the guard of propriety and courtesy, that no one at all mannered would force entry that Lady Nikos' attendant denied to them.
At the sight of Pyrrha, Hestia curtsied and stepped. "Good evening, young m'lady. You can go right in."
"Good evening, Hestia, and thank you," Pyrrha replied.
Hestia smiled. "And congratulations too, young m'lady." She cleared her throat. "Lady Pyrrha and her team, m'lady."
"Of course," Mother said, and as Pyrrha and the others stepped into the box, she pushed herself to the feet with the aid of her cane.
"Mother," Pyrrha said. "There is no need to—"
"I am not so infirm yet," Mother said sharply. She was silent a moment, waiting, watching.
Without needing to be bidden, the four members of Team SAPR formed a line facing her, as if for inspection.
And Mother did indeed appear to inspect them for a moment, her sharp-eyed gaze sweeping across the company.
"You are an excellent shot, Miss Rose," she said.
"Thank you ma— I mean, my lady," Ruby said.
Mother nodded, however short a gesture it was. "Mister Arc," she said. "Miss Rose struck the final blow on one adversary, Miss Shimmer one, Pyrrha two … and you, none."
Sunset began to speak, "If my lady will—"
"We will come to you, Miss Shimmer, fear not," Mother said.
Pyrrha frowned, but curbed her own impulse and desire to defend Jaune herself. She slipped her hand into his, but said nothing. Her defence would do him no good presently.
Jaune was silent a moment. He bowed his head and almost frowned, but the frown was gone when he raised his head again. "My lady," he said. "I'm still the weakest member of this team; it would be weird if I wasn't. But I wasn't a liability, and I'll even say that I helped, with my dust and with my semblance. Because of me, Pyrrha didn't have to fight two on one. I'm sure that she would have won two on one, but because of me, she didn't have to. We won the fight, and we all played a part in that, so I don't think that talking about who eliminated how many matters very much."
Mother didn't reply, which might have meant almost anything, impassive as her countenance was. "Miss Shimmer," she went on, "you weren't expecting the opposition's tactics, were you?"
Sunset cleared her throat. "I fear that we expected a more Mistralian … sense of priority from Lady Kommenos, my lady. Instead, she looked upon this battle with a different eye."
"Phoebe Kommenos desired victory," Mother said. "That was the uppermost in her thoughts, and should have guided your estimations of her thoughts also, Miss Shimmer."
"Yes, my lady," Sunset murmured.
Mother paused, and as she paused, she smiled ever so slightly. "How did it feel to defeat her?"
Sunset allowed herself a small smile of her own. "Very good, my lady."
Mother nodded approvingly. "Indeed. I confess I always took some pleasure in her downfall. In fact, having witnessed that obscene display, I hardly feel I need confess it. What she hoped to gain by it, I know not." She paused. "I am sorry that that young man's semblance affected you so, Miss Shimmer. You have my sympathies."
"And my lady has my thanks," Sunset murmured.
Mother did not answer that, but rather, at last, turned her attentions towards Pyrrha. "You did not distinguish yourself the most of all Mistralians today," she said.
"No," Pyrrha replied without shame. "And you must have known I would not after Arslan won her great victory. Our own triumph was one won by the team, a joint enterprise in which I did not disgrace myself. I am content with that, and I urge you to be content likewise. You have my word, in rounds to come, I will meet your expectations."
Mother's eyebrows rose. "Will you?"
"Yes," Pyrrha replied. "For in this, they are my expectations also. I would take leave of all arenas with my head held high."
"I should hope so, and yet, it gladdens my heart to hear it nonetheless," Mother said. "Very well, I shall await tomorrow's round with eager anticipation. And in the meantime … congratulations to you all."
The teams who had won in their first round match-ups were gathered back in the arena. Sixteen teams stood arrayed in parade-ground fashion, each team in line abreast, each team forming a column, all of them facing the Amity Princess and the headmaster of Beacon where they stood on the central hexagon, elevated up above the students below.
The arrangement of column by school made it easy to see that Beacon had done better than average and Shade had done worse, with Beacon having five qualifying teams and Shade three. Atlas and Haven were both exactly average with four winning teams apiece, which was disappointing for Atlas, which really ought to have done a lot better.
As a school, they would have to collectively up their game going into the second round.
Team RSPT were second in the Atlesian column, behind Team TTSS but ahead of teams FNKI and SABR.
On the right of the line, looking up over Trixie's hat, Rainbow waited. She wondered if Doctor Polendina was watching this. She didn't know if Penny had told him that she wasn't progressing any further on the tournament, but Rainbow doubted it.
When he found out, Doctor Polendina was likely to have views.
For that matter, Doctor Pietro might be a little disappointed too.
It didn't change her decision, but at the same time, it wasn't really something she was looking forward to.
Something to worry about a little later. For now, she wanted to know who she'd be up against in the next round.
"Good evening, students," Professor Ozpin said. He spoke without the aid of a microphone, and while Rainbow could hear him just fine, she wasn't sure how his voice was carrying to the stands.
Perhaps he didn't want the crowds to hear him.
"When this day began, there were thirty-two teams prepared to fight for their own glory and the honour of their schools in this tournament. Now, only sixteen teams remain, and per the rules of this tournament, only two huntsmen or huntresses from each team may progress into the next round.
"In the vocation you have chosen, it is sometimes necessary to make difficult decisions. You may have to leave comrades behind to accomplish your goals, split up and send only part of your force to complete an objective. The choice that you have to make tests not only the ability of half a team to function without the other, but also your ability to choose: do you know the strengths and weaknesses of your team members well enough to select the best choices? Can you put your own desires for glory behind the greater good of the team, if that is what is best?
"This is a tournament, a celebration and a relief, but do not think that nothing that happens within this arena has lessons applicable to the world beyond." He paused. "Miss Aris, if you would be so good."
Skystar Aris took a step forward. She was speaking into a microphone, and it let her voice carry out over the students, and they must have been able to hear her in the stands.
"Hello again, people of Remnant! Whether you're here with us in the Amity Colosseum or watching on TV, welcome back as we announce the second round draws!" Skystar cried. "First, the students of all teams that won their first round matches will submit the names of the two students going forward into round two, which I announce for you all. Then, the computer will assign match-ups for tomorrow's eight matches, and I will announce those as well. So without further ado, team leaders, will you please make your submissions!"
There was a flurry of rustling around as all the team leaders got out their scrolls, Rainbow included. An app had been added to her device, and presumably to Sunset's and Trixie's and every other team leader's scroll as well, when she had been selected for the tournament. It linked to a database, which Skystar could access from her end.
At her end, as she opened up both scroll and app, all Rainbow could see were the names and headshots of herself and her three teammates.
Around her, Rainbow could hear beeps as leaders made their selections and sent them off.
She glanced at Ciel, who stood next to her. "Are you sure about this?"
Ciel, in turn, looked at Penny. "A chance remains to change your mind."
Penny, on the other hand, didn't hesitate. She shook her head. "You two go for it. And good luck."
Rainbow sighed, even as she felt a little more apprehensive than relieved. "Okay," she said. "Here goes."
She selected her own name and Ciel's. With two people selected, a send button appeared in the corner. Rainbow picked that too, at which point, a pop-up appeared to check she was sure, and by this point, Rainbow just wanted it to accept her answer already.
Skystar had her scroll out, balancing it in one hand as she held onto the microphone with the other. Professor Ozpin looked over her shoulder.
Skystar kept a smile on her face throughout. She was still smiling as she cried out, "And that is all selections made, no take backs, no changing your mind, it is done! And so, without further ado … those of you who watched the announcement of competing teams will remember that we did Shade Academy first and Beacon last. We're going to reverse that order today and announce the Beacon students in alphabetical order, we have … from Team Jugular: Jessica Tubal and Lance Gobham!" She paused to allow some cheering from those who had been impressed by JGLR in the first round, then went on. "From Team Ichor: Iris Marilla and Castor Olympus. From Team Wisteria: Weiss Schnee and Flash Sentry!"
There were more cheers for the WWSR duo, but also more booing as well, which Skystar affected to ignore.
"From Team Sapphire," she went on, "Sunset Shimmer and Pyrrha Nikos!"
Even more cheers for them, obviously, and fewer — although not none — boos. Some people started singing the Mistralian song, but Skystar's voice overrode them easily.
"And from Team Iron: Yang Xiao Long and Nora Valkyrie!"
Ruby was amongst those cheering that announcement, raising her hands in the air as she whooped. "Go get 'em, sis!"
Nora reached in front of her and ruffled Ruby's hair.
Skystar's smile became a little broader for a second. "And now, the Atlas teams beginning with Team Funky: Flint Koal and Neon Katt!"
There were some pretty loud cheers for them; one match, and Neon had already made herself a fan favourite.
"Team Rosepetal," Skystar cried, and Rainbow swallowed involuntarily. "Rainbow Dash and Ciel Soleil!"
Rainbow glanced again at Ciel's face. Her expression was frozen, as though she couldn't quite believe what they'd done. Rainbow could hardly believe it, and it had been her idea.
"Team Sabre: Sabine Silverband and Reynard Kerak!" Skystar announced. "And Team Tsunami: Trixie Lulamoon and Starlight Glimmer!"
Trixie swept her hat off her head as she bowed in acknowledgement of the cheers that fell on her like snow.
By now, the faces of all the competing Beacon and Atlas students, plus their names, had appeared on a holographic board behind Skystar.
"And now for Haven Academy," Skystar said. "Beginning with Team Auburn: Arslan Altan and Bolin Hori!"
She paused a moment for the applause, and then had to pause for a bit longer because there was a lot of applause, and singing. Eventually, Skystar began to speak over it to announce, "Team Ball: Lavinia Andronicus and Lucius Andronicus!"
There was less applause for them, but Skystar waited a few seconds for it nonetheless. "Team Volcano: Lily Cornelia and Cicero Ward the Younger! And Team Sun: Sun Wukong and Neptune Vasilias!"
As the faces of Sun and Neptune appeared on the board, Rainbow couldn't help but notice that a lot of team leaders had put themselves through in spite of what Professor Ozpin had said.
Of course, she was one of them, so who was she to talk?
"And of course, last but not least, the teams from Shade Academy!" Skystar declared. "Team Gear: Elektra Fury and Ariadne Guimet.
"From Team Sugar: Uxbridge Scot and Alexander Fourprong.
"And from Team Umber: Umber Gorgoneion and Reap Matthias!"
She stopped and turned to the board, gesturing towards it. "And there they are, our second round contenders! I'm sure you all have your favourites, but let's just take a moment to appreciate all of them. They've done so well already, and the entire point of this whole festival is to come together in celebration, so … well done to everyone for today and good luck for everyone for tomorrow. And so, without further ado: let's have the second round match-ups!"
There was a murmur of anticipation from the crowd and from the gathered students as the names and faces disappeared. Some of them reappeared, then disappeared again, flickering in and out of sight as the computer made its inscrutable decisions.
The faces of Sunset and Pyrrha were the first to appear, opposite the faces of Trixie and Starlight.
"Sunset Shimmer and Pyrrha Nikos of Beacon's Team Sapphire against Trixie Lulamoon and Starlight Glimmer of Atlas' Team Tsunami!" Skystar announced, as cheers from Atlas warred against the cheering from Beacon and from Mistral.
Rainbow winced. That was really bad luck for Trixie and Starlight; there was no way around it. Against most other teams, Trixie could have made it into the final eight — Starlight would have been a better choice, but there was no way she was even going into the two on two except out of affection for Trixie — but against Sunset and Pyrrha?
She wouldn't say that they had absolutely no chance … but their chances weren't great.
The next match to be revealed also pitted Beacon students against Atlas.
"Weiss Schnee and Flash Sentry of Beacon's Team Wisteria against Sabine Silverband and Reynard Kerak of Atlas' Team Sabre!" Skystar announced.
Behind her, Rainbow heard, or thought she heard, Sabine let out a little cheer of satisfaction. She might have been imagining it, because there was a lot of cheering, and a lot of booing too, but she resolved to talk to her about it after they were done here.
Thankfully, the next match-up to appear on the board didn't involve any Atlas teams, pitting Pyrrha's friend Arslan and her teammate against the two Beacon students from Team JGLR, Jessica and Lance. Flint and Neon got lucky and were paired against one of the Shade teams, the Team GEAR pair, while Sun and Neptune also got lucky being pitted against the two from Team SUGA.
Rainbow found herself glancing towards Team YRBN; after all, there weren't many teams left who hadn't been assigned a match already.
She wasn't looking forward to putting Blake in that position.
Rainbow let out a sigh of relief when Yang and Nora's faces appeared and the faces of Rainbow and Ciel were nowhere to be seen.
"Yang Xiao Long and Nora Valkyrie of Beacon's Team Iron versus Lavinia Andronicus and Lucius Andronicus of Haven's Team Ball!" Skystar declared.
Which meant, with only two teams left, that Rainbow and Ciel were going up against the last remaining Haven team.
"Rainbow Dash and Ciel Soleil of Team Rosepetal of Atlas against Lily Cornelia and Cicero Ward the Younger of Haven's Team Volcano!" Skystar announced to the applause of the crowd.
Rainbow looked to her right, where the Haven students were formed up. She had a bit of a hard time spotting the Team VLCA duo; they looked pretty nondescript apart from the name of the guy they were putting forward.
Not that Rainbow was underestimating them, of course, but … could have been worse. Could have been a lot worse.
"And there you have it!" Skystar said. "Our second round matches all lined up for tomorrow. Which means that is that from us for tonight. If you're here for the festival in person, have a great night; if you're competing, then have a great night but also get some rest; and if you're watching the live coverage, then we hope to see you back here at ten AM, Vale time, for the start of the matches. Until then: goodnight!"
The giant screens all around the arena all turned off; the coverage was over for the day. When Rainbow had been a kid, they'd followed the first day's festival coverage with the premiere of a new show they really wanted everyone to watch; she hadn't checked the TV schedule to see if they were doing that this year.
Anyway, whatever they were doing or weren't doing, the coverage was over, and they were all free now to do as they liked. The central hexagon, with Skystar and Professor Ozpin on it, was starting to come down.
Rainbow turned her head as Blake approached her.
"I thought I was going to have to watch you fight Yang for a second there," Blake said.
Rainbow grinned. "Yeah, it would have been awkward watching me best your team leader—"
"I heard that!" Yang yelled.
Rainbow sniggered. As the student body broke up, heading for the exits, Rainbow spotted Team SABR out of the corner of her eye.
"Excuse me a second," she said to Blake and turned away from her, walking quickly to catch up with Team SABR. "Yo, Sabine, wait up!"
Team SABR were a rarity on Atlas, and amongst all the academies from what Rainbow had seen, in being an entirely faunus team.
Sabine Silverband was a sable faunus, with a matte black tail emerging from between her legs to curl around one of her ankles. She was dressed in a black as matte as her tail, a black dress with a white jacket over the top, but even the jacket had a black fur collar. A pair of silver bracelets dangled from her wrists over a pair of glossy black gloves, and her boots were black, high-heeled, and topped with silver. She wore a necklace of ice dust crystals around her neck. Her hair was as black as her tail and worn long, bound into a braid that fell down behind her until it met her tail, while her eyes were as icy blue as the dust around her neck.
Aaron Moore was a mole faunus with a pair of digging claws emerging from out of his hands. He wore thick brown leather overalls over a blue shirt and a red kerchief tied around his neck. He was bald, with a large, round face and eyes that seemed set into such a permanent squint that it was hard to say what colour they were.
Bella Roseye was a badger faunus, and like Aaron, she had claws on the ends of her fingers, although they didn't look like they were as long as her teammate's. Her eyes were as red as her name, and blind besides; she used a sort of assistive VI to see for her by transmitting infrared images directly to her brain. At least, that was how Rainbow thought it worked. She was the tallest of the team by a foot and a half in spite of Sabine's heels, being a giant of a woman standing over seven feet tall, and a lot of that seven feet being muscle too. She wore a black robe and a white headdress that covered all of her head bar the face, but underneath the robe, Rainbow could see hints of copper-coloured armour on her arms.
Reynard Kerak was a fox faunus with a bushy red tail and hair of the same colour to match, which he wore long and untidy, falling down around his face with no order, rhyme, or reason. He had a nasty scar on his cheek from an ursa's claw that had only just missed one of his green eyes. A lot like Starlight, he wore Atlesian infantry armour, but unlike her, he had painted his white, save for the thick stripe of blood red running down the centre of the chest and stomach.
Sabine stopped and turned, and the rest of her team stopped and turned with her.
"Rainbow Dash," she said, in a tone that was mostly neutral but sounded like it was edging just a little bit towards dislike. Rainbow couldn't think what she'd done to give Sabine reason to dislike her … maybe Sabine was upset that Rainbow couldn't remember what she'd done?
"Something we can help you with?" Sabine asked.
"Uh, yeah, maybe," Rainbow murmured, scratching the back of her head because this was … kind of awkward. "So … you're going up against Weiss Schnee, huh?"
Sabine grinned. "Oh, yeah. Sometimes, fortune does smile on us."
"You sound very happy about it," Rainbow observed.
"My only regret is that this didn't happen in the first round," Sabine declared. "When we all could have shared in kicking the asses of that whole racist team of hers."
Her teammates murmured their wordless agreement.
"'Racist team'? Come on, guys," Rainbow implored. "Weiss isn't her father, and she's not a racist."
"Her name is Schnee," Reynard spat.
"You don't get to choose the name you're born with," Rainbow replied.
"You get to choose to swan around in tiaras purchased with the blood of our people," Reynard growled.
"After what has come out, after what you found," Bella said, "how can you defend her?"
"Pretty easily, since she has nothing to do with it," Rainbow said sharply. "How can you all blame her?"
"Because I had an uncle in one of those slave camps!" Sabine spat. "An uncle I haven't seen since I was three years old; they told us he was dead. We mourned for him, my parents mourned for him … now he is back with the letters 'SDC' burned into his face, and she, the Schnee princess herself, pampered by the suffering of so many faunus, swans about, struts here and there, competes for glory in the Vytal Festival? If there was any justice, if she had any shame, she would burn her fine clothes and wander Remnant naked, begging for forgiveness from every faunus she came across—"
"Gods, Sabine!" Rainbow spat.
"I don't have the power to make her do that," Sabine went on, "but I do have the power to end her tournament in painful humiliation, and I intend to make the most of it."
"For something her father did?" Rainbow demanded. "For something that her father's company did? You've got a right to be angry, but not with Weiss. Weiss has helped faunus in need, she was down on Low Town with me and Blake, she … she's a friend to Atlas, and she's a friend to me too, so I'm asking, please, just … keep it to the spirit of the tournament, okay?"
Sabine folded her arms. "Oh, well, if the great Rainbow Dash asks, how can we little people possibly refuse?"
Rainbow scowled, her ears drooping down into her iridescent hair. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you're a house faunus, Dash, and you always have been!" Sabine snapped. "General Ironwood's loyal fireside dog—"
"I am no one's dog!" Rainbow growled.
"Then why are you coming over here telling me, telling all of us, that we aren't allowed to be angry?" Sabine demanded. "That we're not allowed to want even a little payback?" She shook her head. "When I found out that you had been the one to uncover all of this, I thought that maybe you'd changed. But I see that you're still the same bootlicker that you always were."
"Says who?" Rainbow demanded. "You? Who made you God of Animals so that you can tell me that I'm not enough of a faunus?"
"A real faunus wouldn't be standing up for a Schnee over her own kind, after all they've done to us," Sabine declared.
"I don't know if real Atlas students would be sounding like the White Fang, either," Rainbow muttered.
Sabine scoffed. "You got to show the world those SDC brands and then go home and feel righteous afterwards. I have to go home and see it on my uncle's face. You don't have to be White Fang to see that there's something rotten in this kingdom. You have to be stupid not to." She turned away, and walked away with her tail up, shaking back and forth.
The rest of her team followed her. Reynard gave Rainbow a dirty look as he went past.
Rainbow, on the other hand, didn't go anywhere. She just stood there, thinking. Thinking not that Sabine might be right, but … between Twilight asking her if she was becoming too much of a faunus, the faunus telling her that she wasn't enough of one, where did that leave her?
Where did that leave Blake? If this was Rainbow's bed, then she would lie on it, but Blake … Blake deserved better.
Not that she would understand this if Rainbow tried to talk to her about it.
And yet, at the moment, as a result of Sabine's words ringing in her ears, it was all that she could really think about right now.
Not enough of a faunus to be a faunus, not angry enough, not desperate for justice.
Too much of a faunus to be a good Atlesian. Too aware of the problems and the injustices, not able to shut up about them.
Neither fish nor fowl.
Rainbow found that she didn't want to talk to Blake right now, or Twilight, or her friends, or anyone else. She just … she wanted to be alone with her thoughts.
And so she took her thoughts away, without a word to anyone.
XxXxX
Rainbow took herself up, all the way up, to the eaves of the Colosseum, up above the docking pads where the skybuses were starting to ferry people down to Beacon below.
She was about level with the private boxes, although getting to where she was from there wasn't easy; the stairs and elevators were designed to take you down, not out to where Rainbow sat amongst the struts and the support beams. It was like an attic, except that it came with a view.
It came with maybe the second best view in all of Remnant, Rainbow thought as she sat, looking out, with Beacon below and the whole of Vale spread out before her. She could see everything, all the way to the Green Line and beyond. Heck, she thought she could even see Mountain Glenn from up here, a dark and shadowy patch, a place not to go amidst a vista of inviting wonders. A place beyond the borders of mankind's territory here.
But apart from that, yes sir, it was quite a view. Especially now, at twilight, when the whole city was lit, and all the airships too.
"I can certainly see why you wanted to come up here," Lady Belladonna said as she ducked beneath a couple of support beams to approach Rainbow, although she didn't approach her all the way to the edge where Rainbow sat. "It's quite something."
Rainbow twisted around, climbing carefully up onto her feet. "Ma'am? What are you—?"
"Blake thinks from your sudden exit that you want to be alone right now," Lady Belladonna said. "She might be right, but I know from my greater experience," — she smiled playfully — "that the times when we want to be alone are often the times when we shouldn't be."
Rainbow hesitated. "I … appreciate this, ma'am, but … you don't need to concern yourself with me. You should … celebrate with Blake—"
"I think I'd only cramp her style with Sun and all her friends," Lady Belladonna replied. "And I wouldn't want to do that all the time, now would I? No, I think that the best thing I can do for Blake is … well, this." She paused a moment. "You're Blake's best friend, and without you, I wouldn't know where she was or that she was even alive." She grinned. "You brought me into your life; I'm afraid you're stuck with my meddling ways until I return to Menagerie."
Rainbow snorted. "Well, if I've only got myself to blame, ma'am." She walked away from the edge, walking closer to Lady Belladonna. "Ma'am, can I ask you something? Adam, did you know about his…" She waved one hand in front of her eye.
Lady Belladonna's eyes narrowed. "What?"
"A scar," Rainbow said. "A brand on his face. An SDC brand."
Lady Belladonna stared at her. "So that's why he never took off his mask."
"I take it that's a no, ma'am," Rainbow said.
"I'm afraid that Adam would never have trusted me or Ghira with something like that," Lady Belladonna said. "Did … did Blake know?"
"Yes," Rainbow replied, her voice getting a little hoarse. "Yes, ma'am, she did. Ma'am … can I ask, did you ever get angry?"
"About?"
"Faunus rights?" Rainbow said. "You and Blake's dad always supported peaceful protest, but … did you ever want to just join Sienna Khan in smashing stuff up?"
"Rainbow Dash," Lady Belladonna said, concern creeping into her voice. "What's this all about?"
Rainbow sighed. "The team that Weiss Schnee has been drawn against for the two on two round is a faunus team, and they're angry. I tried to … I asked them not to take it out on Weiss, because it's not her fault, but ... it seems I'm not a real faunus. I'm—"
"A house faunus?" Lady Belladonna suggested.
Rainbow's eyes widened. "How did you—?"
"Sienna said the same thing to me, once, near the end, when she was on the verge of taking over the movement," Lady Belladonna said. "I was a house faunus, I was a mongrel, the humans could wave a ham in front of me, and I'd chase it all over Anima."
Rainbow's eyebrows rose.
"Don't ask," Lady Belladonna said. "Sienna was very angry that day. Ghira had managed, after much patient effort and wooing of the Mistralian Councillor Gracchus, to get a motion tabled on land reform that would have granted agricultural tenants greater rights: protection from eviction, that sort of thing. The rest of the Council voted it down. It was … a bitter blow. Months of effort wasted. Sienna wanted to go out into the fields and start burning the great estates, to terrify the bailiffs and the rent collectors until they hid beneath their beds and dared not stir abroad. I pointed out that they would loose huntsmen on us, and Sienna … well, she lost it with me.
"And the truth is, the answer to your question is … yes, I was angry too. The whole business was intensely frustrating." She smiled. "Fortunately, Sienna was kind enough to offer me a healthy outlet for my frustration. I hit her in the face with a dinner tray."
Rainbow laughed. "Seriously, ma'am?"
"She may have been my boss at one time, but I wasn't going to let her talk to me like that," Lady Belladonna said. She reached out and brushed her fingers over Rainbow's ears; it tickled a little bit. "You are a faunus, a child of the Shallow Sea, and no one — but no one — has the right to deny you that, to tell you that you're not behaving right, that you don't feel the right or sufficient passions, that you don't want the right things. Not for any reason. You are a faunus, it is your birthright to be one of us, and that is not something that any gatekeeper can take away from you."
"You make it sound like an honour," Rainbow said.
Lady Belladonna shrugged. "Just because others see it as a mark of shame doesn't mean that we must."
Rainbow chuckled. "I'll have to introduce you to Neon Katt sometime; you'd get along like a house on fire." She paused and looked away from Lady Belladonna for a second or two. "What they said … well, it wouldn't have bothered me so much before I met Blake, but now … Blake has, or rather, since meeting Blake, I … I've become more … aware? Of … you know." She paused, her ears drooping. "It makes my friends uncomfortable."
Lady Belladonna's ears drooped, whether in sympathy or because she was genuinely upset, Rainbow couldn't have said. "They told you this?"
"Not exactly, but … Twilight told me that she was worried I'd become less Atlesian."
"And what did you say?"
"That I was a faunus and an Atlesian, and that meant I would always be a little different compared to … a human."
Lady Belladonna nodded. "A reasonable answer, and a true one." She smiled. "Before you worry too much about your friends, remember that this change in you, the change that you've told me only happened this year when you met Blake, is new to them. You aren't the same person they met, and it may take a little getting used to. But by the same token, that doesn't mean that they'll reject the change or that they can't understand it if you explain it to them. Give them a chance before you assume you're fated for solitude."
Rainbow was quiet for a second. "You … you're very wise, ma'am."
Lady Belladonna chuckled. "Not everyone has always thought so, even my own daughter didn't think so, but … I appreciate the attempt."
"I mean it," Rainbow said. "I was up here getting all hot and bothered and worried, and you … cut through it."
"I'm older than you," Lady Belladonna reminded her. "And age, and experience, bring a kind of wisdom that is all their own. Did you ever wonder, before you met Blake, about your friends? About whether or not they—?"
"No," Rainbow said at once. "In fact … I got kind of annoyed with Blake for suggesting it, when we first met."
Lady Belladonna smiled. "Then don't start doubting them now," she urged. "I may be the High Chieftainess of Menagerie, but that doesn't mean that I want every faunus in Remnant to cut themselves off from all human contact, distrustful, suspicious. That way lies—"
"Sienna Khan?" Rainbow guessed.
"Or worse," Lady Belladonna said. "You don't have to choose. Blake doesn't have to choose. No one has to choose. We can come together in understanding, Ghira always believed that, and I believed him. And for what it's worth, I think you're right about Weiss Schnee as well. Children lash out blindly in their frustration, taking their feelings out on anything and everything in reach; I think that if you're old enough to bear arms into battle, then you should also be a little more mature than that. That girl doesn't deserve to be tainted by her family's actions any more than Blake and her ambitions deserve to be tainted by our failures." She smiled. "And so, unless you really, really enjoy the view from up here, I would suggest that you go down and join your friends and remind yourself of where you belong. And put your foolish fellow Atlas students out of your mind. They don't sound worth your time."
Rainbow snorted. "No, ma'am, I guess they're not." She bowed her head. "Thank you, ma'am, again."
"Well, I must confess to an ulterior motive," Lady Belladonna replied. "I'm glad that Blake has a friend she can rely on, and I'm glad that it's you."
A smile pricked at the corners of Rainbow's mouth. "Thanks for that too, ma'am. Now, if you'll let me escort you down before I take your advice, I—" Her scroll went off. "Hold that thought for a moment, ma'am," she said, as she got out her scroll and checked the caller ID.
It was Doctor Polendina calling.
Rainbow stared down at the scroll, her chest rising and falling.
I suppose I should be glad he waited this long.
"You look as though you're preparing for battle," Lady Belladonna observed.
"Hopefully not, ma'am, but you never know," Rainbow said. She answered the call. "Good evening, Doctor."
Rainbow was a little surprised — although she maybe shouldn't have been — when it wasn't only Doctor Polendina's face that appeared on her scroll, but the three faces of the remaining members of her team.
None of them looked particularly happy about that, although Ciel hid her discomfort best, as she so often did; Penny looked as though she was visibly trembling, in spite of what Rainbow thought was Ruby's hand upon her shoulder, the rest of Ruby Rose just out of view in the small screen window.
And, of course, in the bottom right-hand corner, the face of Doctor Polendina himself; he looked older than he had been when they were in Atlas — he was older, but he seemed to have aged a fair amount in a pretty short amount of time. It was around his eyes, and in them; there wasn't exactly more grey in his face, there wasn't more white in his hair, but in his eyes … his eyes looked older.
His voice was sharp, like a bayonet being slid between Rainbow's ribs. "Rainbow Dash and Ciel Soleil?"
"You were watching the second round picks, Doctor," Rainbow murmured.
"Of course I was watching!" Doctor Polendina yelled. "I watched everything—"
"You didn't call," Rainbow pointed out, making Twilight wince.
Doctor Polendina was silent for a moment. "And why should I do that? Penny has made it clear that my opinion means nothing to her."
"I found my semblance," Penny murmured.
Doctor Polendina ignored her. "But I never thought that the two of you would so brazenly … this is not what I agreed with Ironwood, and this is not what we discussed! How dare you? How dare you? I want to know whose idea this was, and I want to know right now!"
"It was mine," Rainbow said, because it was half-true and because regardless of how true it was or was not, it was her responsibility as team leader to take the hit for things like this.
Doctor Polendina stared up at her from out of the screen of the scroll. "Yours?" he repeated. "This was your idea?"
"Yes, sir," Rainbow said softly.
"It was your idea to deny Penny her rightful place—"
"With all due respect, sir, I have denied Penny nothing," Rainbow interrupted. "Nothing, since Penny ran away to Vale, and I persuaded General Ironwood to let her stay here with her friends — this isn't about asking for gratitude by the way, Penny, don't worry about that," she added quickly, before continuing on. "Everything that Penny really wants, we have given her."
"Not anymore," Doctor Polendina declared. "This tournament—"
"Is what you wanted," Penny said, her voice quiet, but it was a quiet that was like … like the still small voice in Ciel's holy book — Rainbow had took a look at it a couple of times; she had trouble with the language, but there were parts she could sort of remember — the one that could be heard over the hurricane and the earthquake and the snowstorm tempest. Penny's voice could be heard in spite of how quiet she was. "Not what … I wanted."
Doctor Polendina blinked. "Not … not what you wanted. But … I thought … the fame, the glory—"
"Don't matter to me as much as … as being happy," Penny replied. "It might have been fun, it might even have been wonderful, but…" She trailed off, falling silent for a few seconds. She glanced away, off screen, at Ruby, probably, or maybe at her whole team. "It doesn't mean everything to me, and I won't get … it didn't seem that important in the end."
"But it matters to these two who are going to be holding stop signs in Mantle for the rest of their careers?" Doctor Polendina asked.
Penny frowned. "Rainbow and Ciel aren't going to be holding stop signs in Mantle for the rest of their careers."
"We'll see about that," Doctor Polendina muttered. "Penny, this … this was—"
"It's done, Doctor," Twilight pointed out quietly. "The submissions have been made, and they're final."
"My legacy," Doctor Polendina whispered. "My accomplishment. You … people were supposed to see what I had … even if they didn't know that I'd done it."
"You…" Again, Penny glanced off-screen. "You made me," Penny said. "Whatever I do next, everything I do, even if it's where the TV cameras can't see it, that's your legacy, isn't that enough?"
Doctor Polendina was silent for a moment. "Would it have hurt you so much to do me this one thing?"
Seriously? Seriously? Come on, Doc, I know that you're ill and dying, but … come on!
Penny's eyes widened. Her lip trembled. Her mouth opened — before a hand, a small pale hand, reached in from off-screen.
Penny's corner of the screen turned black.
"Penny?" Doctor Polendina cried. "Penny, what … where has she gone?"
"Somewhere more pleasant, one might hope, which might be almost anywhere," Ciel murmured. "Doctor, you have the right to your anger, you even have both right and power alike to ruin the both of us — at the very least, you may attempt it. But to speak to Penny in that way … was unbecoming, at the least. Though Penny is your child, she is no more bound to service to your interests than any other child." She paused. "Penny found her semblance today, as she attempted to point out to you, if you had had the ears to listen. She discovered the expression of herself, another part of who she is. That … is a wondrous thing, far moreso than any tournament triumph. If you had wished to speak to her about it, then I am sure that Penny would have welcome the discussion."
"I…" Doctor Polendina closed his eyes. "I only wanted her to excel, and to be seen to excel."
"Penny does excel," Ciel replied. "She excels at being herself, and in being herself, she is well-beloved and well-regarded, welcomed into the embrace of good company, not to mention that she is not without skill as a huntress for all that you will not see it again in this one tournament. That is enough, Doctor. She is enough.
"Let it be enough, for God's sake, while you still have time."
The scroll that Ruby had just disconnected from Penny's call with her father.
Pyrrha found that she could quite understand why — his attitude had been rather obnoxious — but at the same time … it might be said to have been an overstepping of the bounds.
Of course, only Penny could say that for certain, one way or the other.
Penny turned her head a little to look at Ruby.
"I … I thought," Ruby murmured. "It wasn't right, what he was saying to you. The way he was talking to you. I didn't think … I didn't think that you should have to force yourself to listen to that."
Penny didn't reply. She didn't say anything. She didn't even keep looking at Ruby. She looked down, at the metal floor of the Colosseum. Around them, the great crowds swirled, moving according to their own peculiar rhythms, totally ignoring Penny just as Penny was ignoring them.
Just as they were all, the four of them, ignoring the crowds, their focus upon Penny.
Sunset put a hand on Penny's shoulder. Pyrrha's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, recalling — who could forget? — that Sunset was often the voice for reconciliation in these matters, for understanding … Pyrrha was not altogether certain that would be welcomed by either Penny or Ruby in such circumstances.
Perhaps Sunset realised that too, for she said nothing. She simply had a hand on Penny's shoulder, standing silently behind her.
Pyrrha herself took a step closer to Penny. "He … had no right to speak thus," she said, her voice trembling a little. "To ignore the news about your semblance was boorish to say the least, but more than that … you are your own person, not bound to alter your actions for their desires."
Penny didn't respond. She stood as still as any of the statues of Pyrrha's ancestors in the garden of the Nikos house in Mistral, if a little more meekly posed than any of them.
"Penny?" Jaune asked.
Penny's eyes flickered towards Ruby for a second. "Thank you," she whispered.
Ruby let out a sigh of relief it had not been obvious that she was holding in. "You're welcome, Penny."
Penny didn't look at Ruby, or at any of them.
"I thought that … I hoped that … I didn't realise that it would matter that much to him."
"It's not your fault, Penny," Ruby insisted. "You've done the right thing."
"Have I?" Penny asked.
"Have you done what you thought was right, for you?" Ruby replied.
"Yes," Penny said. "Yes, I think so."
"Then you've done the right thing," Ruby declared. "And you can't beat yourself up for it."
Penny raised her head, looking around at the four members of Team SAPR, a smile slowly spreading across her face as she reached out to pull both Ruby and Pyrrha into an embrace, squeezing them tightly with one arm each, holding them close against her.
"Thank you," she said. "I'm so lucky to have run into you!"
Pyrrha chuckled, despite how tight Penny was holding her. "The good fortune was ours, Penny," she said, "or, at the very least, we share in it."
Penny released them. "So, what happens now?"
"The night's still young," Ruby said. "So we can do … whatever we want, pretty much." She paused. "What do we want to do?"
"There's the carnival down in Vale," Sunset said. "That Mistralian thing that Arslan is going to be at, we could get drinks at the Iceberg Lounge, or we could just have some more fun at the fairgrounds. Perhaps we should wait until we get down to Beacon, and we can see what Amber wants to do as well."
"That is a good point," Pyrrha murmured. Personally, she was not too enthused about the idea of the Mistralian exhibition, since she suspected it would be a great deal that she already knew a great deal about, but if everyone else's interest tended in that direction, then she would not oppose them.
Not least because she doubted that the will of the majority would tend in that direction.
"But," she added, "there is a possibility that my mother might wish for us to dine with her tonight. I should like to check with her, if that's alright with you."
"By all means," Sunset replied. "It would be discourteous not to, in the circumstances."
"Yes, quite," Pyrrha said softly, and now, it was her turn to get out her scroll, even as Penny put hers away.
Pyrrha opened up the device, and called her mother. She did not, as Penny's father had done, include the other members of her team in the call, but she felt and saw Sunset move to stand closer to her nonetheless.
Their shoulders were practically touching.
The crowds continued to move around them, not even really glancing Pyrrha's way.
I suppose they've had their bellyful of me today already. I have become a stale sight in their eyes.
If only that would happen more often.
Mother answered fairly swiftly, her face appearing on the screen. "Pyrrha," she said. "I was not expecting you to call."
"Were you not?" Pyrrha asked. "You watched the second round draws, I take it?"
"Of course," Mother said quickly. "Your opponents, Miss Trixie Lulamoon and Miss Starlight Glimmer of Atlas' Team Tsunami, are they known to you at all?"
"They are, my lady," Sunset declared. "Besides being our classmates, they … did me a singular good service not too long ago. It is not too much to say that, without their help, I might not be here."
Mother's eyebrows rose a little. "Indeed, Miss Shimmer? Did they do this service for your teammates also?"
"Alas, no, my lady, I was … on my own, at the time, or at least without the rest of Team Sapphire. It is … a story somewhat awkward to recall."
Quite, Pyrrha thought, recalling their concern during Sunset's unexplained absence. Magic or not, you could have let us know.
"I see," Mother murmured. "Leave that for now, then; I take it from what you have said that they are skilled?"
"Starlight has a semblance that lets her take other semblances, or just stop you from using yours," Ruby piped up.
Mother blinked. "That is … quite a semblance," she said. "A somewhat unnerving semblance, I must say. I didn't see Miss Glimmer using it in her match today."
"Some people do like to keep their semblances a secret, Mother," Pyrrha reminded her gently.
"Yes, that is undoubtedly true," Mother conceded. "And Miss Lulamoon?"
"May seem to play the fool upon occasion," Sunset said. "And in close combat, she is not the best trained or equipped, but yes, she too is far from unskilled. I would say they are amongst Atlas' best."
"And you are already devising a plan to best the best, I hope," Mother said.
"It is germinating in my mind as we speak, my lady," Sunset said. Pyrrha had no idea whether or not that was actually true.
"In the meantime, Mother," she said, "I called to see if you had any plans for this evening?"
"As a matter of fact, yes," Mother replied. "Lord Wong has invited me to dine with himself and his wife." She smirked, ever so slightly but quite clearly nonetheless. "So you and your friends may amuse yourselves as you no doubt wished to without my interference."
"That … that was not…" Pyrrha trailed off. "Thank you, Mother."
"But take care not to exhaust yourselves before tomorrow's battle," Mother admonished. "I would have you both well-rested for the struggle with these Atlesians."
Sunset bowed her head. "We will, of course, take care of ourselves in preparation for the contest to come, my lady."
"In that case," Mother said, "I wish you a moderate and tempered joy of the evening. Goodnight, Pyrrha. Miss Shimmer, Mister Arc, Miss Rose."
"Goodnight, Mother," Pyrrha said as she hung up the call.
She folded up her scroll. "So, the skybus then, as Sunset suggested?"
"Sounds fine by me," Jaune said.
"And me, too," added Ruby. "If … Penny, are you okay?"
There were queues at all of the docking platforms waiting to take people down off the coliseum back to Beacon, with all of the events of the day concluded and nobody having any reason to remain on the coliseum any more, but by the same token, there were also a lot of skybuses, docking at every platform to fill up with students and spectators and ferry them down to Beacon below, and they must have been scarcely waiting to deposit their loads before they rose up into the sky once more. All of which meant that, although Team SAPR and Penny had to join the back of a queue at their nearest docking pad, they were not actually waiting very long as the queue moved quickly.
Soon it was their turn. They did not sit down, since the skybus was so full and there were others who deserved or required seats more than they did, but stood against the windows as they had the last time they descended downwards, after watching Team YRBN's match against Team BRNZ.
"I don't suppose Yang mentioned what she had planned for the evening?" Pyrrha asked.
"She and Nora are going to the carnival in Vale," Ruby answered.
Pyrrha nodded. "And Ren?"
"Oh, Ren's going too; he's just not as enthusiastic about it," Ruby explained.
"What is the carnival?" asked Penny.
"Why don't we wait until Amber's here, then Ruby only has to explain it once," Sunset suggested, a little grin playing across her face.
Penny covered her mouth with both hands as she giggled. "Okay. I'm sorry."
"It's not a problem," Ruby assured her. "But … Sunset has a point; maybe we should leave it."
The skybus was full, but it was not quite so full as to stop a few of the children running up and down on either side of the rows of seats, yelling and shrieking in delight as they whacked one another with a variety of rolled up fliers, painted cardboard tubes, and toy weapons — including a couple of toy Milós.
"Those are not supposed to be used to strike people," Pyrrha murmured. "It says so on the packaging."
Sunset looked up at her, a bemused look on her face that looked to be verging into outright amusement.
"Someone could get hurt," Pyrrha pointed out. "Or they could break the weapon."
"That's for their parents to worry about," Ruby said. "Nobody will thank us for interfering."
Soon they had landed at Beacon and were part of the great surge of passengers off the skybus and onto the illuminated docking pad. As they disembarked, Pyrrha could see that the left and rightmost docking platforms were being used by the skybuses down from Amity Arena, while at the central docking pad, a great skyliner had docked, ramp extended outwards to touch the platform, and was loading people up for the trip down into Vale. There was another queue for it on the docking pad, and from what she could see — albeit, there was some little distance separating them from the grounds — Beacon was a little less crowded with people than it had been earlier.
"Hey, kiddo!"
"Uncle Qrow!" Ruby cried, dashing across the docking pad, leaving a trail of rose petals upon the black tarmac behind her as she raced towards her uncle, who ambled with his hands thrust into his pockets in her direction.
He pulled one hand out of said pockets and ruffled Ruby's hair as she enveloped him in a hug.
"Did you watch the fight?" Ruby asked.
Qrow shrugged. "You were okay."
"'Ok—' we won!" Ruby protested. "We won really well! We got a clean sweep! Did you get a clean sweep in your four on four?"
"Of course we did; what do you think we were, amateurs?" Qrow asked. He grinned. "But, okay, I guess you did a pretty good job."
"Were you in the coliseum?" asked Ruby.
"Nah, I just watched it on TV."
"Seriously?" Ruby asked. "You didn't bother to come up to the arena, for me or Yang?"
"Does it matter where I watched it from as long as I watched it?" asked Qrow. "It's just … I'm not crazy about the huge crowds up there."
"Well … as long as you were watching, I guess," Ruby mumbled, although the softness of her voice could not quite hide the disappointment. "Have you spoken to Yang?"
"Nah, I must have missed her," Qrow said dismissively. "But there's always tomorrow, right?"
"I guess," Ruby muttered. "So, are you doing anything tonight? Apparently Doctor Oobleck's DJing for old Beacon students."
Qrow snorted. "Please. Like I'd go to something that lame."
Ruby looked up at him. "You don't have any old friends from school you want to say hi to?"
Qrow was silent for a second. "I'll see you around, kiddo," he said, turning away with a swish of his short red cape.
"Wait!" Ruby called. "If you're not … maybe we could…" She glanced back at the rest of her team. "That would be okay, wouldn't it?"
"Despite how you act sometimes, I don't actually want to have you muzzled," Sunset replied. "Do as you wish."
Ruby nodded, and looked back at her uncle. "We could, I don't know, play some video games? Like we used to?"
Qrow said nothing for a moment, looking at Ruby over his shoulder. Then a smile began to spread across his stubbled face. "Yeah. Okay, I'd like that. That … I'd like that a lot."
Ruby let out a kind of squeaking sound as she said, "Okay then! Let's go." As she closed the distance between them, she looked back and mouthed 'thank you.'
Pyrrha smiled as she watched the two of them walk away.
He may be a rather sad man, or gives that impression, but, at the same time, very fortunate in his family.
They gave Ruby and her uncle a bit of a head start before they, too, left the docking pad, and began to follow the path down towards Beacon itself. They met Amber about halfway there, accompanied by Dove and by Professor Goodwitch, who stood a little behind the other two, looming over them like … well, like a bodyguard, which she was.
"Hello, everyone," Amber said, a bright smile upon her face as she approached them. "I hear you won."
Pyrrha bowed. "Professor Goodwitch, thank you for taking care of Amber during our absence."
"It was my pleasure, Miss Nikos, even as it is now my pleasure to … release Amber into your custody," Professor Goodwitch replied. "Congratulations, all of you, upon your victory. And good luck to you, Miss Shimmer, and you, Miss Nikos, in the next round."
"So you got your miracle this time," Amber said.
Sunset frowned a little. "Excuse me?"
Professor Goodwitch coughed into one hand. "Well, I have a lot of work to do, so I'll leave you to enjoy yourselves. Goodnight. Amber." She turned away, her heels clicking against the stones of the path.
"Goodnight, Professor," Pyrrha called to her.
"Perhaps I shouldn't have said that," Amber murmured. She added, "We passed Ruby on the way, with Qrow."
"Yeah, she's going to hang out with her uncle," Sunset explained, "while we still need to decide what we're going to do tonight."
Pyrrha began, "Although without Ruby—"
"Without Ruby, who's going to explain what the carnival is?" asked Penny.
"Well, there may be some differences between Mistral and Vale, or between Vale and Atlas," Pyrrha said, "but essentially, the carnival is an enormous street party held across the three nights of the tournament. There's a parade, but it is somewhat irregular, and anyone can take part in it, dancing in the street, colourful costumes, music, juggling, and fire-breathing, that sort of thing." She paused a moment. "When I was a little girl visiting Atlas, I found some of the costumes rather frightening, people dressed as grimm or as other horrors, but when the festival was held in Mistral six years ago, when I was a little older, I found it wasn't nearly as frightening."
"That sounds like fun," Amber said. "Can we go there?"
"But we don't have a full team, now that Ruby's gone with her uncle," Jaune pointed out.
"Yes," Pyrrha murmured. "I was just about to stay, we need to have the full team assembled in order to escort you into Vale."
"But there are three of you here," Amber pointed out. "And Penny; surely, she's as good as Ruby is."
"I try," Penny said, "but I'm not exactly sure."
"More to the point, I'm not sure how Professor Ozpin would see the matter," Sunset said. "He might agree with you, or he might not. The letter of his instructions on the matter were rather clear."
Amber pouted. "Really?" she demanded. "So unless all four of you are here, it doesn't matter about Penny or Blake or anyone else?"
"That's about the size of it," Sunset confirmed. "But don't worry; remember, Pyrrha said that the carnival is held on more than one night. Tomorrow, we'll speak to Ruby, and then we can all take you down to the carnival tomorrow night. And in the meantime, tonight, since Ruby's absence rules out anything in Vale by the same logic, why don't we take a turn around the fairgrounds? It feels like we didn't get the chance before."
"No, we didn't really, did we?" Pyrrha said. "That would be fine by me."
"And me," Penny agreed.
Dove glanced at Amber, who nodded. "Yes, that would be lovely, too."
"Then let's do it," Jaune said. "Where do we want to start?"
"Somewhere with stuffed animals," Penny declared.
Sunset laughed. "Well, finding some of those shouldn't be an issue."
Amber and Dove fell in with them as they set off down the path. The crowds were a little thinner, but there were still plenty of drones zipping through the air just overhead, or else hovering only a little higher than the height of a person, cameras scanning the crowds even as the crowds thinned, harvesting footage for the news items on the end of the Vytal Festival. A couple of them pointed their cameras in the direction of Pyrrha and the others, although none of them lingered for too long.
They crossed the courtyard, and shortly after arrived at the fairgrounds, making their way between the stands to one particular stall, run by a pair of middle-aged men in straw hats and blue and white striped waistcoats. They both had red hair, streaked with white, and one had a bushy moustache covering his upper lip. Both were calling out to passers-by in mellifluent, fruity voices.
"Roll up, roll up, don't be shy! You like prizes, we got prizes!" one of them called, gesturing with one hand to the row upon row of enticingly large stuffed animals
"Simply shoot down five cans to win a prize!" added the other man. "And from this range, you can hardly miss! Easiest game in the fairground!"
Team SAPR, Amber, and Dove began to drift in their direction, something that the two men didn't miss.
"You! Yes, you!" called out the man without the moustache. "I'm sure that such highly skilled huntsmen and huntresses as yourself will have no trouble at all winning one of our fabulous prizes!"
"Hey, Dove," Sunset said, "maybe you'd like to have a go, win something for Amber?"
"Um…" Dove hesitated, trailing off a little bit. "No," he muttered. "No, thank you, I … no."
Sunset frowned. "Are you feeling okay? You look a little bit peaky."
Now that Sunset mentioned it, Dove did look a little unwell; his face was pale, and there was a slightly clammy or sweaty quality to his complexion, his face and hair alike so damp that it was as though he'd just run from Vale to catch up with them here. He was holding onto Amber's hand, and holding it tightly too, holding it for dear life. Pyrrha could have understood that — he had almost lost her once, after all; if he held onto her for fear that she would vanish into thin air the moment that he let her go, well, what could be more natural than that? But at the same time, Pyrrha didn't recall him holding Amber in that way before. He had been much more gentle with his touches.
But Amber didn't seem to mind, so it was hardly Pyrrha's place to comment on that. Unless it was a symptom of the sickness that appeared to have afflicted him.
"I'm fine," Dove murmured. "I'm fine, really, there's nothing wrong. I just…" He glanced at Amber. "Alright, I'll give this game a try."
"Fantastic!" cried the man with the moustache. "Only ten lien for five shots!"
Dove got out his wallet and handed over a small-value lien card.
"Thank you," said the man without the moustache.
"And here you go," added the man who possessed one as he took out a short-barreled rifle from underneath the counter, attached by a chain which ran out of sight beneath that same counter so that the gun couldn't be taken just anywhere, and handed it to Dove. There was also a wire connecting the gun to some out of sight thing on the other side of the stand, and Pyrrha guessed that it was a hose to channel air into the rifle, since it didn't use dust.
"And here," the man with the moustache added, "are your five shots." He deposited five small, soft-looking foam pellets, bullet shaped but rather too colourful to be made of metal, upon the counter.
Dove didn't look ill as he got to work; in fact, he looked rather professional as he opened up the breach of the rifle and methodically loaded in the five soft foam bullets.
He snapped the breach shut and put the rifle to his shoulder.
Of course; he used to hunt back home, if I recall.
Dove pushed the rifle a little harder into his shoulder, looked down the sights, then fired rapidly, once, twice, three times, four, five shots barking out of his rifle, a rifle which barely moved as he pulled the trigger so well did he control the recoil.
The distance from rifle to the tin can targets was only ten feet at most; someone with less than half an hour's training could have made those shots, and yet, Dove did not appear to hit a single thing. Of the four sets of five cans, all stacked up three below and two above, not a single can fell.
They were all still standing after Dove had fired his fifth and final round.
Dove lowered his rifle, and as he lowered it, he stared at all the stubbornly, resolutely still-standing cans. "I … I may be a little out of practice with a normal gun."
"Mmm," murmured the man without the moustache. "Well, don't worry about it, sport; sometimes, these things just happen."
"Here's another ten lien," Sunset said, putting the money card down with perhaps a little too much force. "Give the gun over, Dove."
"Five more rounds," said the man with the moustache as he produced five more of the colourful foam bullets. "Best of luck."
Pyrrha's eyes narrowed as she watched Sunset load the rifle; her movements were not as precise as Dove's, but she was every bit as quick — quicker even — despite the fact that there were not so many satisfying clicks or snaps as she opened or shut the weapon.
Like Dove before her, Sunset raised the rifle to her shoulder; the leather of her jacket squeaked a little as she did so. Sunset tossed her head, flipping some of her fiery hair out of the way, as she aimed down the sights.
Sunset stood still, letting the rifle rise and fall as she breathed in and out. Her breathing slowed, then stopped; the rifle went still.
BANG! Sunset fired, the muzzle flashing.
Not a single can fell.
Sunset breathed out heavily, then breathed in, then held her breath. She fired again, twice in quick succession.
Still, not a can fell.
Pyrrha frowned beneath her circlet. Slowly, she placed one hand into Jaune's. She felt his fingers close about hers, which was very nice in itself, but was also nice in this particular instance as cover for the black outline that surrounded her hand as she probed at the tin cans with her polarity.
As Sunset fired twice more, Pyrrha groped at the cans with her semblance, finding that they were secured onto the shelves where they sat with magnets.
The easiest game in the fairground indeed.
It would be if you were more than common cheats, thieves, and con-artists!
Unfortunately, the scale being as small as it was, there was little point trying to get the authorities involved.
Sunset let out a wordless snort of irritation as she slammed the gun down onto the front of the stall. "The sights are off," she declared.
"You know what they say about a bad workman and their tools," said the man with the moustache. "Does anyone else think they might have better luck?"
Sunset scowled and turned around. "Show them, Pyrrha," she said.
Pyrrha smiled with one corner of her mouth. "I, um, I'm afraid I'm a little too precious of my dignity to venture it on such a game as this," she murmured, "but I think you should try again. I'll pay if the money is an obstacle."
Sunset snorted. "You're a little too precious of your dignity, but you want me to dent mine even more than I already have?"
"Please, Sunset," Pyrrha urged. "I really believe that your luck is about to change."
Sunset stared at her, eyes narrowing a little.
The smile remained on Pyrrha's face as she nodded encouragingly.
The corner of Sunset's lip twitched in turn. "Okay," she said softly. "But keep your money; I can afford another ten lien." She produced another small-value money card from out of her jacket pocket and put it down. "Five more shots, if you please."
"Here you go," said the man without the moustache as he produced the extra rounds.
Sunset loaded, as quickly as before.
Pyrrha reached out with her Polarity, the touch of it lingering gently upon the cans, so that she could feel them without actually affecting them — yet.
Sunset bared her teeth and squeezed the trigger.
BANG! Sunset fired, and as she fired, Pyrrha gave the first can a firm nudge with her semblance, knocking it off its perch and onto the ground below.
The man with the moustache gasped in surprise. Sunset let out a sort of snigger of triumph.
BANG! She fired again, and another can fell. Sunset fired a third time, and Pyrrha pushed a third can down, and a fourth, and finally a fifth.
Sunset grinned as she set the rifle down. "Five cans," she declared. "Now if I remember correctly, that means I get a prize, doesn't it?"
The man without the moustache seemed to have been robbed of speech, but the man who had the moustache groaned.
"Take your pick," they said.
"Hmm," Sunset murmured, putting one hand on her hip as she stared at the row upon row of stuffed animals that all stared back at her with smiling faces: bears, rabbits, pandas, polar bears — distinguishable from the ordinary bears by being white instead of colourful — penguins, ponies, a whole host of stuffed creatures sat upon hooks, waiting for a liberator to come set them free.
"That one," Sunset said, pointing to a pink winged unicorn with a horn of gold emerging from out of the midst of her teal mane, and multi-coloured wings with stripes of orchid and shades of blue which darkened towards the tips. "I'll take that one."
The man with the moustache practically threw it at her. "Thank you for playing," he said sharply.
"My pleasure," Sunset said, then turned crisply upon her toes and walked away, her tail swishing from side to side behind her.
The others turned to follow her. When they were a moderate distance away, Sunset turned and offered the large stuffed winged unicorn — it was larger than Sunset's head — to Pyrrha. "I think this belongs to you," she said.
Pyrrha fought to keep a straight face. "Why—?"
"You used your semblance on the cans, didn't you?" Sunset asked.
Pyrrha was silent for a moment. "Well … yes," she admitted. "But I wouldn't have if they hadn't been using magnets to stop the cans from falling. The game was rigged so that nobody would win."
"Why would someone do something like that?" asked Penny.
"Because they're cheap?" suggested Jaune.
"You … you aren't upset?" Pyrrha asked.
"Why would I be upset?" Sunset responded. "The only reason I needed your help is because they were cheating, like you said; now, do you want the alicorn or don't you?"
Pyrrha smiled as she reached out with her free hand and wrapped her arm around the stuffed animal, pulling it out of Sunset's unresisting grasp and pressing the soft felt against her cheek.
"I love it, Sunset," she declared. "Thank you."
XxXxX
"Rainbow Dash!" the voice of Jillian Khalisa rose above the hubbub of the crowds.
Rainbow groaned as she turned her face away and tried to hide said face behind one hand; she and Lady Belladonna had descended down out of the eaves and returned to the outer ring of the arena, where students and spectators alike were queuing up to board the skybuses carrying people down to Beacon. They had been walking around the circle to try and find the others, but considering that Jillian Khalisa had found them first, it might have been better to have just gotten aboard the nearest skybus and waited for Rainbow's friends down on the ground at Beacon.
Lady Belladonna looked at her. "Do you know this person?" she asked anxiously.
"Unfortunately, I know who she is," Rainbow muttered. "She's a reporter; maybe you should step away in case—"
"No, I don't think I will," Lady Belladonna said quickly. "I'm not here to cause a scene, that's true, but I'm not going to simply slink away and hide either. Besides, it's been a while since I was involved in politics. This woman probably won't even know who I am."
It was Khalisa's drone that appeared first, hovering above the heads of the crowds on the docking ring, followed shortly by the reporter herself, wearing a dress of the same style as she'd worn the last time, right down to that golden ladder-thing running down the centre of it, but with more red this time and a lot less blue.
"Rainbow Dash," she repeated. "Jillian Khalisa, Northern News—"
"Yeah, I remember," Rainbow said.
She didn't introduce Lady Belladonna, because she didn't think that Lady Belladonna would really want to be introduced like that, and Jillian Khalisa didn't even look at her. Her attention was wholly fixed on Rainbow Dash.
"May I have a word with you," she said, "without General Ironwood hovering nearby, dictating what I can and cannot ask?"
Rainbow hesitated for a second, because Khalisa was absolutely right about General Ironwood being nowhere to be found, but so long as she didn't feel like she had to answer every question and remembered how to say 'no comment,' then she should be okay.
And if she wasn't, then Rainbow had a hunch that Lady Belladonna might step in for her, or at least step in to tell her when she ought to keep her mouth shut.
"That … would be fine, ma'am," she said, clasping her hands together behind her back.
She clicked her fingers, and the drone hovering over her shoulder began to shine a bright light into Rainbow's face, making her flinch away from it for a moment before her eyes got used to it.
"Rainbow Dash, congratulations, first of all; that was a fight well fought," Khalisa said.
"Thank you, ma'am," Rainbow said. "My whole team did their best."
"A good fight," Khalisa repeated. "And a necessary fillip for Atlas after the two defeats that preceded your victory. Why do you think Atlas performed so poorly today?"
Rainbow blinked. "With four out of eight teams through to the second round, I wouldn't say that we did poorly; I'd say that we performed … averagely."
"Some would say that an average performance from Atlas is a poor performance," Khalisa replied. "Don't you think that people back home were expecting more from Atlas Academy? Don't you think they have a right to expect more?"
"I don't know what people back home were expecting," Rainbow replied. "I don't think they have a right to expect more than they've gotten, which is the best effort of every team selected so far. We've got a lot of good students at our school, but so do Beacon and Haven and even Shade Academy; there's no shame in losing to any of them. That's just the way it is sometimes."
"You don't think that your fellow Atlas students were put off by the hostility they've received in Vale recently?"
"You'd have to ask them that, ma'am, but we weren't," Rainbow replied.
Khalisa's expression was hard to read. Rainbow didn't think that she'd given her anything, but at the same time, she didn't look upset about what she had or hadn't got either.
"What was it like to win?" she asked.
Rainbow was so surprised by the question that she didn't say anything at first; she just stood there, staring. It took a couple of seconds for her to recover enough to say, "It was pretty awesome. I mean, Team Jasmine fought a good match, they were good huntsmen and huntresses, it just wasn't their day, but … yeah, it was pretty awesome to win; thanks for asking."
Khalisa snorted. She clicked her fingers, and the light on her drone died. "Despite what you might think, I am rooting for Atlas," she said, and then turned away, pushing through the queues and crowds, maybe in search of more students to interview.
"She didn't seem so bad," Lady Belladonna observed.
"Mmm, that was her being pleasant, ma'am," Rainbow said. "She and Northern News root for Atlas in everything, if you take my meaning."
Lady Belladonna's eyes narrowed. "You mean—"
"Yeah," Rainbow said. "Yeah, it's like that. She doesn't really like anyone who isn't from Atlas, she doesn't like Mantle, and I don't think she's really very fond of the faunus either. She kept a lid on it just now, but I've heard worse."
"She sounds charming," Lady Belladonna murmured. "But I think you got away with it on this occasion, helped by some largely pretty innocuous questions."
"Except for that one about the hostile atmosphere," Rainbow said. "As if she wanted someone to tell her that Vale had put our students off their game."
"And you don't think that it has?" Lady Belladonna replied softly.
"If it had, then we wouldn't have had four wins, ma'am," Rainbow replied. "It's like I said: sometimes, the other team is just a little better."
"Not having ever trained as a huntress, I'll have to take your word for that," Lady Belladonna said. She paused for a moment. "I spoke to your friend Councillor Cadance today."
Rainbow glanced at Lady Belladonna as she resumed walking. "Really, ma'am?"
"Oh, yes," Lady Belladonna confirmed. "I was her guest for the matches. Although, of course, we paid full attention to yours and Blake's fights."
"I'm glad to hear it, ma'am," Rainbow said, "but when we weren't dazzling you, am I allowed to ask what you talked about?"
Lady Belladonna smiled, although she didn't show her teeth as she was smiling. "We talked about a few things," she said, "including a huntsman academy on Menagerie."
Rainbow's eyebrows rose. "Really?"
Lady Belladonna nodded. "Well, why not?" she asked. "Is there any reason why Menagerie shouldn't have a huntsman Academy when Vale, Atlas, Mistral, and Vacuo do?"
"Does Menagerie have grimm, ma'am?"
"A few, although they tend to stick to the interior, where we don't go," Lady Belladonna said. "But they do exist, and we could use a few more huntsmen, I suppose. Or they could send money home to Menagerie. I have to admit that we could use the lien. Or … well, it might just be nice, mightn't it, to have teams representing an academy on Menagerie competing in the Vytal Tournament?"
Rainbow chuckled. "I guess it might, ma'am, yeah." She paused, thinking about it. An academy on Menagerie. "Yeah, it might be pretty cool. Have you got an idea for a name for it?"
"That might be getting a little ahead of ourselves," Lady Belladonna replied. "Although if you have any ideas, I'd love to hear them."
"Hmm," Rainbow murmured. "How about … Slope Academy? As in climbing the slope towards equality?"
"A possibility," Lady Belladonna murmured.
"You don't like it?"
"I'm not sure that the theme should have to be spelled out," Lady Belladonna said gently, "but there's plenty of time to think about it; discussions are only in the most preliminary of stages. Besides, I didn't actually tell you about it to get your name suggestions."
"No, ma'am," Rainbow said, a touch of laughter in her voice.
"Obviously, this new academy will need teachers," Lady Belladonna said. "But it will also need students; now, we can find children on Menagerie who want to train as huntsmen, but I was thinking that it might be good if we can get some good upperclassmen who have spent two or three years at another academy, who can show the young freshman ropes, since nothing like this has ever existed on Menagerie before. Not you, of course, or Blake — I wouldn't ask you to leave Atlas — but I was wondering if you knew anyone who might be willing to transfer schools when — or if — we get our new Academy up and running."
"Faunus students, ma'am?"
"It is a faunus island," Lady Belladonna pointed out.
Rainbow was silent for a moment. Faunus students, willing to leave Atlas and go to Menagerie to finish their training — meaning students who didn't have military aspirations.
She thought about Team SABR, and how they might fight for what Lady Belladonna was envisioning — except that Rainbow wouldn't want the likes of them to be anywhere impressionable young faunus students; you might as well invite Sienna Khan to be the school councillor.
"I … I'd have to think about it, ma'am; no one's coming to mind off the top of my head," Rainbow admitted. "To be honest, you might be better off talking that one over with Councillor Cadance; maybe … maybe you could set up a programme whereby Atlas upperclassmen volunteer to spend a year or two on Menagerie, but not transfer to your academy, just until you have some upperclassmen of your own; that way, the Atlas students wouldn't lose their chance at joining the military afterwards if that's what they want."
"Ah, yes, of course, your military advancement," Lady Belladonna murmured. "Yes, I suppose most students wouldn't be eager to throw that away after working for it. Thank you, Rainbow Dash; I'll take that up with the Councillor once we start to get down into the nitty gritty of the negotiations."
"Glad I could help, ma'am," Rainbow murmured. She spotted another drone flying over the heads of the students and the spectators, a drone that she recognised as belonging to Twilight. She waved to it and was rewarded by the sight of the drone stopping, letting out a kind of boop-boop sound as it turned in mid-air until its eye, for want of a better word, was fixed on Rainbow and Lady Belladonna.
Rainbow smiled as she heard Twilight's voice.
"I see her! She's over there!"
Sure enough, and soon enough, she could see Twilight, Applejack, Rarity, Pinkie, and Fluttershy all coming her way, gently moving the crowd aside, slipping and sliding through the people.
"Rainbow Dash," Twilight repeated. "We wondered where you took off to." She bowed her head as she noticed Blake's mom. "Oh, good evening, Lady Belladonna. Allow me to introduce my friends: Jacqueline Apple, Rarity Blumstein, Pinkamena Pie, and Fluttershy Warren."
"Woof," Spike said.
"And this is my dog, Spike," Twilight added quickly. "Everyone, this is Lady Belladonna, High Chieftainness of Menagerie and—"
"Mother to one Blake Belladonna, in case the name and resemblance didn't give it away," Lady Belladonna said. "Do you all know my daughter?"
"We all know Blake, sure!" Pinkie cried. "She's awesome! It's a pleasure to meet you, Lady B!"
Lady Belladonna chuckled. "If you're friends of Blake's, then the pleasure is all mine." She looked around. "Has Blake already gone down to the surface?"
Twilight nodded. "She thought that Rainbow wanted to be alone."
"Did you want to be alone?" Pinkie asked.
"…Yes," Rainbow admitted, after hesitating for a second. "But Lady Belladonna reminded me that sometimes, just because we think we want to be alone doesn't mean that we should actually be alone. Have you guys seen Weiss? Weiss Schnee, I mean?"
"As opposed to Weiss Smith, darling?" Rarity asked archly.
"I think that she got on a skybus as well," Twilight said. "Why, is something wrong?"
XxXxX
Neon beamed broadly as she stared at the enormous hamburger that she held in both hands, fat dripping from out of the patties to land on the grass at her feet.
Neon's burger consisted of no less than three such dribbling patties stacked together, the burgers themselves almost invisible beneath layers of melted cheese that was a little too firm to drip off completely but was not so firm as to stop it from running off the burgers down the sides. As she looked at this monstrosity, Ciel could see some bacon on top nestling amongst the lettuce leaves. Said greenery — and the red of a tomato slice — looked distinctly outnumbered by the sheer amount of meat present.
"You do realise that will kill you," Ciel observed.
The smile didn't waver from Neon's face. "I am here for a good time," she declared. "Not a long time."
She opened her mouth wide — almost grotesquely wide — and clamped her jaws around the oversized burger, biting down upon it, distorting the shapes of the burger patties, causing cheese and mayonnaise and fat to begin to spill out onto Neon's chin.
As Neon began to chew, Ciel got out a handkerchief from one of her belt pouches and began to wipe Neon's face.
Even as she was still chewing, Neon looked as though she wanted to laugh. She swallowed and said, "Thank you, momma."
Ciel snorted. "You are very welcome."
"You want a bite?" Neon asked, waving the burger up and down in her direction.
Ciel leaned away from it. "No, thank you."
"Suit yourself," Neon said. "It's not like what you went for is particularly healthy."
Ciel looked down at the box of popcorn chicken that she held in her free hand. As Neon said, it was not particularly healthy.
It was, however, small enough she could eat it without making a mess.
The two of them were sitting almost at the cliffs, a little way off from the docking pads, with the view of the city of Vale spread out before them. The sun had set, and the whole city was illuminated even more brightly than usual, with sections of the city seeming to be bathed in so much light it was as though they were auditioning to replace the sun in the sky. Prominent civic buildings were lit up in green, blue, white, and yellow — as, for that matter, were the Atlesian warships in the sky up above, parading in the Vytal colours as though they might convince people that their presence was a normal part of the festival — while great squares and boulevards were filled with so much light and colour that it was visible even to Neon and Ciel where they sat high above, looking down upon a city that seemed so small it was almost like a model.
"So," Neon said. "Two-on-two rounds, huh?"
Ciel allowed herself a very slight, very small smile. "Indeed. I hope that I do not make an absolute fool of myself. That would be … embarrassing at the best of times, and even moreso in the circumstances."
"Because you weren't supposed to get picked," Neon said. "Because Penny was supposed to go with Dashie, I'm guessing, to the two-on-two, and then move on to the one-on-one round where she could show her stuff all by herself."
Ciel was silent. "You … are correct. That was … the intention, at the formation of this team."
"So what changed?" asked Neon. She grinned. "Did Dashie want to make the one-on-one round that badly?"
"No," Ciel said. "Well … yes, as a matter of fact, she did, but … that is not why. Penny…" She paused. "I am not sure how much I wish to talk about it, to be perfectly frank."
"Ah, it's like that," Neon murmured.
"To an extent," Ciel allowed. "Suffice to say that Penny was no longer much interested in the tournament and was prepared to stand out for our sake."
"Might be the first nice thing she's done for you," Neon muttered.
"Neon," Ciel murmured reproachfully.
"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," Neon said quickly. "I won't say anything like it again." She bit into her burger and spent some time chewing on the large mouthful, as her cheeks bulged so that she looked more cat than squirrel. Only when she had swallowed did she say, "You feeling confident?"
"I know little of our opponents," Ciel replied. "But together … I think, I hope, I do think, with head not heart, that Rainbow and I will make a reasonably good team." She paused. "And you?"
"Oh, we'll be fine," Neon assured her. "Who are we up against? A couple of Vacuans?"
"Some Vacuo teams did surprisingly well today," Ciel pointed out.
"And yet, they still only had three wins out of eight, compared with our four," Neon responded. "And if they're all right, why do they need to try and poach our students?"
Ciel frowned. "How do you mean?"
"I had one of the Vacuans come up to me a little earlier before you caught up," Neon explained. "That one who's always covering her eyes with her sunglasses." She looked around, pointing behind her as she shifted on the grass. "There! She's at it now!"
Ciel turned in turn, following Neon's outstretched arm and pointed finger to where she could see Umber Gorgoneion, of Shade's Team UMBR, deep in conversation with the four members of Team SABR.
"Perhaps they know each other from somewhere," she murmured.
Neon shook her head. "Nah, she's giving them the sales pitch. I told you, she did the same thing to me, tried to sell me on ditching Atlas to come to Vacuo. Promised me—"
"A life of freedom?" Ciel guessed. "No ranks, no orders, no structure, no sovereignty? Complete freedom to do as you would, provided you were strong enough to survive?"
"Strangely, no," Neon answered. "I thought the same as you once I realised where it was all going, but no. That's not what she said at all. In fact, she was pretty explicit about offering me the opposite: 'all must serve, with faith and honour, but those who serve shall be given not merely honour in turn but pride; those who came may hold their heads up high amongst all men and known themselves to be amongst the best.'"
Ciel's eyebrows rose. "Unusual words to hear from a Vacuan. Serve who?"
"I didn't ask," Neon admitted. "The Headmaster of Shade, I suppose; who else is there? Maybe the Vacuans are going to start raising an army? It's the fashion these days."
"They had better not start by raising it from amongst our classmates, or General Ironwood will have strong words for Professor Theodore, no doubt," Ciel muttered. "What did you say?"
"Hmm?"
"To this Vacuan who speaks so strangely, who wanted to whisk you away to serve in desert sands?"
Neon grinned. "I told her I was proud enough already, and I had no trouble keeping my chin up just where I am, thank you very much. Besides, if I went anywhere that hot, I should probably melt."
"I see," Ciel said, unable to stop herself from smiling a little to hear it. "How did she take it?"
Neon shrugged. "Well enough. She just … kind of left." She paused. "I think some might take her up on it, though."
"Really?" Ciel asked.
Neon nodded. "Mantle kids, faunus—"
"We are from Mantle, and you are a faunus," Ciel pointed out. "And yet it did not appeal to you."
"No, but not everyone's like us, are they?" Neon said. "Some people … I don't know, but … going to a place where you're automatically the best, where there's no risk of anyone sneering at you for what you are or where you come from … I can see how that might appeal to some people. Not to you, perhaps, and not to me either, but … to some people."
"But … Vacuo?" Ciel said. "All that sand and sun, and not a single luxury to speak of. It sounds unbearable."
"Maybe it'll turn out to be unbearable once they get there," Neon replied. "But, for anyone who does decide to buy into the recruiting spiel … best of luck to them, I suppose."
XxXxX
"I have to say," Kali said, handling her chopsticks with aplomb as she pulled up several strands of noodles out of her bowl, "when you said you were going to take me to dinner, I was expecting something a little … fancier."
The old man running the noodle stand where Cadance and Kali were sat gave them something of a dirty look.
At least, Cadance thought he did; the way that his eyes were set in a permanent squint was making it a little hard to tell.
Nevertheless, she smiled at him. "It's really very good," she told him.
That didn't do anything to change his expression as he turned away from her — from both of them.
Kali was sat to Cadance's right, with two large — very large — bowls of noodles sat in front of them. Shining Armor was sat to her left, while the rest of Cadance's security detail was stood around them, keeping the thinning, constantly diminishing crowds at bay.
Darkness had well and truly fallen over Vale, but Beacon itself was kept well-illuminated by the lights of white, blue, green, and yellow that were strung everywhere across the fairgrounds, reaching from pole to pole to banish all shadows from the grounds.
Drones run by the various news corporations continued to flit here and there, taking in what remained of the crowds, the students that could be seen, and … people like Cadance and Kali.
However, it didn't seem as though many people recognised the High Chieftainess of Menagerie, which was … rather a damning indictment in many ways, however convenient it might be.
Cadance rooted around in her bowl with her own chopsticks; she was a little less expert at the use of them than Kali. "Do you want me to take you somewhere fancier?"
Kali chuckled. "No," she said, "I'm just surprised by the notion of an Atlesian councillor…"
"Slumming it?" Cadance suggested.
"You said that," Kali pointed out, "not me."
Cadance let out a little chuckle of her own. "I mean … since we're here, we might as well sample all the delights that Beacon and the Vytal Tournament have to offer, no?"
Kali held up one hand. "I'm not complaining, truly," she insisted. "In some ways, even more than your private box, this is the best seat in the house."
Cadance followed Kali's gaze, away from the noodle stand and across the fairground, to where she could see, bathed in the four-coloured glow of the lights, Blake Belladonna and a young man, a monkey faunus by the look of him, an aficionado for lack of shirts and vests, baring his chest at her as they sat — well, Blake was sitting, while the young man was lying with his head in Blake's lap while she … seemed to be reading to him.
A smile spread across Cadance's painted lips. "Boyfriend?"
"I'd hope so, for him to be acting so familiar," Kali said, without force or malice in her voice. "They make a cute couple, don't they?"
"Oh, certainly," Cadance agreed. "Do you know what she's reading to him?"
"No," Kali admitted. "Hopefully, it's not one of her gothic romances; I would never say this to Blake's face, of course, but she has absolutely terrible taste."
Cadance let out a laugh. "Well, I'm sure she knows best what he'd appreciate."
"Perhaps he doesn't care what she reads; just the sound of her voice is enough," Shining Armor suggested.
Kali snorted. "Something of a romantic, Captain?"
"He has his moments," Cadance pointed out. "Also his moments of denseness—"
"I was not dense," Shining Armor declared. "I was nervous; that's a completely different thing."
"What did you have to be nervous about?" asked Kali.
"I mean…" Shining Armor trailed off for a moment. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked as a flush rose to his cheeks. "I didn't think that someone like Cadance would ever go out with a guy like me."
"In other words, you were dense to the signals that I was giving off practically since we met," Cadance said.
"How did you meet?" Kali asked, leaning forwards.
"I was his sister's babysitter," Cadance explained. "I was a law student, earning a little extra money here and there—"
"And I was a first-year at Atlas," Shining Armor added. "Cadance came from a good family—"
"So did you," Cadance pointed out. "Your father was General Ironwood's brigade XO."
"And you were so beautiful and put together, and everyone knew that you had so much potential—"
"And you didn't?" Cadance asked. To Kali she added, "All these years, and he still won't accept that the only thing stopping him asking me out was himself."
Shining Armor held up his hands. "That may be true, but the fact is that it was how I felt back then, and so … just because it's stupid doesn't mean that it isn't real. I felt … I didn't feel … cool enough, I guess."
Kali smiled. "So when did that change?"
"After I won the Vytal Tournament," Shining Armor said. "My teammates told me that I should do it on TV as I was getting the laurel wreath. I didn't do that—"
"For which I am both glad and a little disappointed," Cadance said.
"But I thought to myself … I knew that I'd never feel as on top of the world as I did right at that moment, and that if I didn't do it then, if I didn't have the guts to do it then, then I never would."
"And it worked out for you in the end, however frustrating it might have been for you, Councillor," Kali declared. "I hope it works out for them the same way."
"It seems to be," Cadance said, with another look at Blake and her boyfriend.
"Yes, it seems to be," Kali said. "But Blake will be in Atlas next year, and Sun is moving to Mantle to become…" She trailed off. "Councillor … Blake would never forgive me for this, so please don't tell her that I asked, but I don't suppose that you could do me a favour?"
XxXxX
In spite of all Sonata's provocations, it seemed to Cinder's eyes as though a carnival atmosphere prevailed in Vale this night.
Probably because of the carnival.
The streets — certainly, the streets around the skydock where Cinder was presently lurking — were filled with revellers, partygoers drinking, shouting, dancing with wild abandon, simply making their swaying way from here to there, leaning on old friends or new acquaintances. The night air was shattered by the sound of drums, by high-pitched woodwind, and by strings. People were dressed in bright colours, in brilliant whites and blues of sea and sky, by as many shades of green as could be found in forest and in field. Not everyone was wearing Vytal colours either; there were troupes of dancers in bright red and gold, there were people concealed completely beneath long robes, wearing ghoulish or monstrous masks, there were men and women on stilts so that they looked like giants, and there were people dressed as grimm.
That last was very convenient to Cinder; she had stolen somebody's beowolf costume and was presently concealed within it, her face, her whole body utterly hidden from view, and in this guise, she stood unnoticed, nobody dreaming that she was, in fact, the wanted fugitive Cinder Fall, enemy of the world.
Now that Pyrrha has defeated me, would they care even if they knew? Cinder wondered bitterly. Would I even frighten them any longer?
That was … hard on herself, perhaps, but it was hard not to be hard upon herself in the watches of night, when the dark closed in around her, even in the midst of such festive gaiety as she was presently immured in.
In fact, it was harder, for the merriment of those all around only seemed to emphasise Cinder's comparative lack of the same. She was as trapped beneath her discontent as she was hidden beneath this beowolf costume.
My time is coming soon. We draw close to the close.
Oh, but the hours seem long.
The passing days did not devour the time as swiftly as Cinder might have wished, and until the appointed time … a few entertaining squabbles in the Amity Colosseum might divert her for a little while, but they could only distract her passingly from the fact that she was in limbo, all things in abeyance, waiting, a captive of time's sluggish onward march, waiting.
It would be grotesque bad manners to attack too soon; Sunset deserves her tournament, and just as the gods allowed Camilla her moment of glory before death, so too show I that courtesy to Pyrrha. The greater the glory that she wins here, the greater will her death shock all the world.
Or else the greater will I seem for putting up a hard fight against her ere I fall.
And yet, ay me, the days seem long. Begone, moon! You have waxed yourself into a shine like polished silverware, wane now and get you hence from our sight!
Let it be the time, that I may cease my sighing.
Wish for the moon to wane swifter? I might as well wish for the return of my moon blood, it is as likely.
Not that I would wish for it, what need have I to pile pain upon discomfort?
With good fortune, what she would do here in Vale tonight would give her some respite from sighs and weariness and restless anticipation. What she would do here in Vale tonight would give her a taste of that sweet nectar of the joy that these revellers all shared in.
And more than that, perhaps, if fate was kind.
She had dreamt of this, back when she could still dream. When she could sleep and taste and ache with discomfort at the moon's turning, when she was human. When she was human, she had dreamt of this, and now, being more than human, she had anticipated it. The moment when she would complete the work begun these many years past and lay so many shades of her past to rest, once and for all.
Father.
Her father had betrayed the memory of her mother, abandoned the home that they had made together, fleeing from her shade to cheat on her with that rancid sow Lady Kommenos; he had 'moved on'; he had 'kept moving forward' as the saying went, and moved so swiftly that the funeral baked meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables; he had betrayed his wife and wedding vows, and in the betrayal, he had condemned his daughter to a living hell made all the more hellish when he, like her mother before her, abandoned her for Erech's cold and dark dominion. As she hated her mother for dying, so, too, she hated her father for remarrying before he died in turn, and yet still, she would make of Phoebe's blood an offering to her father's spirit that he might know she had survived in spite of everything.
And when we meet again, we shall speak of the trials I have endured and the enemies that I have vanquished.
Come, Phoebe, come. The croaking raven bellows for revenge.
And so, Cinder lurked, her beowolf costume as black as her purposes as she waited.
Despite the festive atmosphere, despite the great day of entertainment that had passed, nevertheless, there were signs even here and even now of Sonata's power at work in Vale. As Cinder lurked in the shadows and watched out of these too-small eye sockets, she saw a heavyset man, wearing a T-shirt that was white with the gear-and-spear symbol of Atlas upon it, be accosted by two young men; there words were hard to make out, but grew louder the longer that they spoke, and soon escalated from shouting to shoving and from shoving to the exchange of blows, and suddenly, the man in the Atlas shirt was face-down on the pavement, and the police were hauling the two young men away as an ambulance sped down the road towards the scene, sirens flashing.
It was almost as difficult to hear with this mask on as it was to see, but nevertheless, Cinder could hear the anti-Atlas chanting, just as she could observe the way the young men gathered in packs like beasts, quiescent for now but waiting for some weak prey, some opportunity, to present itself. There were plenty of police present — that, in itself, was a sign that Sonata had done her work well — yet nevertheless, someone stole a camera from a faunus, snatched it right out of their hand, and walked away as though he had no fear of the law at all.
And the law did nothing, justifying his complacency.
Yes, even here, the faultlines lay; the cracks on the ice were visible to those who cared to look. Ozpin would plunge through it soon enough.
But first: great glory for Sunset and Pyrrha.
And revenge for me.
Cinder turned her attention back to Emerald where the latter waited, a little down the road from the skydock, lingering upon the pavement — not that there were any cars on the road tonight; the carnival had taken it over — occasionally asking a passerby if they could spare a few lien, please sir, help me ma'am. Like Cinder, she had disguised herself just in case; unlike Cinder, she was not wholly concealed beneath a beowolf costume. Rather, Emerald had exchanged her usual attire for a pair of tatty old jeans from a thrift store, a plain white vest, and a threadbare-looking leather jacket fished out of the dumpster, with a smell to match. The only thing that Emerald had on that was in any sense new was the red wig beneath which she concealed her emerald hair, and the brightness of which ensured she was not so anonymous that Cinder might lose her in the crowd.
Thus unrecognisable to the casual eye, Emerald waited, impeaching and imploring, reaching out with both her hands for charity. Sometimes, she got it, lien cards disappearing into her jacket pockets, but more often, she got harsh words or shoves to move her aside — although Cinder suspected those who sought to shove her were likely to find their wallets missing when next they looked — or, most of the time, she was simply ignored. People passed her by without looking at her, their steps quickening in embarrassment, their faces set straight ahead of them as though guilt would overcome them if they looked at her.
And then Cinder saw her: Phoebe Kommenos, her … her stepsister.
She had not changed out of her armour. She was just as she had been in the match against Team SAPR, when Sunset had overthrown her. Had she even showered since, or did she still have the sweat and stench of defeat upon her?
She walked with thunder clouds above her; doubtless, she had not been in the vain to dress for the carnival, to put on pretty clothes, to make herself up, to tend to her hair. Such things had always come hard to her when the black mood was on her — in their younger days, Lady Kommenos had sometimes had to command Phoebe to get changed after a defeat and send Cinder to help her do so. Cinder had hated such occasions, since she was always the target for Phoebe's frustrations, but since then, she had found that she sometimes felt the same as Phoebe did: when one was upset, dress and grooming appeared to be of little import.
In any case, here Phoebe was, dressed for battle and armed for it too, spear and shield alike slung across her back as she slung down the road from the skydock like a lioness, one that is hungry, one that has not made a kill for some time, one that grows desperate.
She walked towards Emerald, and Emerald saw her too; perhaps she used her semblance upon Phoebe, Cinder couldn't be sure, but it would explain the straight course that Phoebe made right towards her. Phoebe's helmet was off, her face and her curled blonde hair visible, but even without her crested helmet, Phoebe was tall enough — taller than Emerald by some way.
Phoebe bent her head a little to speak to Emerald; Cinder was too far away to hear what passed between them, but she could see clearly — as clearly as she could see anything, at least — as Phoebe grabbed her by the wrist and began to pull her away. Emerald did not resist, although she could have done, but that was not the part that Cinder wished her to play, and Emerald was a very good girl. And so, she allowed Phoebe to drag her off, barely even trying to pull away.
Cinder followed them discreetly — at least as discreetly as one could do anything while dressed as a beowolf; it was an appropriate outfit for the hunt, to be sure, but … not the stealthiest. Cinder was very fortunate that Phoebe looked supremely unconcerned about being followed: she did not look back, nor even look around; she simply dragged Emerald along behind her, as though her intentions were completely innocent, and there was nothing to fear from detection or discovery. Perhaps Emerald had a hand in that, also.
Cinder kept to the shadows were she could regardless, hiding around corners, following from a discrete distance, following like a creature of far greater subtlety than a beowolf, as Phoebe brought Emerald to an industrial district, out of the carnival path, where great warehouses loomed like temples to commerce and industry, or with their dirty walls and broken windows, perhaps it was better to say that they were pyramids marking the tombs where commerce and industry once thrived. Perhaps they looked less dead in daylight, but right now, at night, there was something of the grave about their silence and their emptiness. The sounds of merriment scarce reached this place, only the distant rumble of the drums carried so far, and there was not a single colourful costume to be seen, not a costume at all save Cinder's beowolf.
Cinder watched as Phoebe dragged Emerald into one of the warehouses and slid the door shut after her.
Now is the moment.
This is the night that I have waited for.
And yet, having waited for it, Cinder hesitated. The air around her seemed to grow solid, to trap her as a fly in amber, to freeze her in place and forbid her movement.
Her hands trembled.
Close your eyes, don't look up,
Here comes a monster to gobble you up.
The memory of what Phoebe had done to her, the memory of all that Phoebe had done to her, they deluged down on Cinder like autumn leaves, like the applause that had fallen on the heads of Sunset and Pyrrha in the Colosseum this afternoon. They set her heart racing. How could she … she had dreamed of this, she had dreamed of confronting Phoebe, sword in hand, of avenging upon her flesh all the injuries that Phoebe had done to her, but … what if she could not? What if she froze, as she had done outside the ice cream parlour, only now there would be no Sunset to come to her aid?
What if … what if she could not do it? What if the dream became a nightmare, and she did nought but lay herself open to more of Phoebe's torments?
What can I do else, having come so far, having involved Emerald? If I do nothing, then I leave Emerald to fend for herself, to suffer at Phoebe's hands.
If I do nothing, if I turn away, then Phoebe has won, a final and irreversible victory over me.
I can do this.
This is my hour.
Thoughts black, hands apt, blades fit, and time obeying,
Stars aligned and no creature seeing.
Eulalia.
Cinder strode forwards and, with a single paw, rolled open the warehouse door in time to see Phoebe strike Emerald across the face and shove her to the floor.
"Enough!" Cinder barked, voice echoing off the dark walls and concrete pillars, striking the remains of pallets and old packing crates that littered the spacious warehouse.
Phoebe turned towards her, gasping in shock — until she must have realised that Cinder was not a real beowolf, because she took a step towards her, eyes narrowing. "What are you doing here? Get out, this is a private matter."
"'A private matter'?" Cinder repeated. She held her hands down at her sides, and with her semblance, she set a fire within her beowolf costume. With her fingertips, she set the paws to burning, set fires on either hand that swiftly spread up the arms and across the whole body, consuming the whole outfit, turning it to ashes, the flames uncovering her, revealing her, and as the fire raged, Cinder stepped out of the burning beowolf like a phoenix emerging from the inferno. "Yes, Phoebe, this is a private matter," she agreed, a wild, fey smile fixed upon her face. "A private matter between you and I. A matter many years in the making. The tree that grew in the forest many years ago has been cut down and placed upon the fire that now is ready to burn."
Phoebe's mouth hung open. Her eyes were wide. "Cinder Fall," she whispered.
"Emerald, guard the door," Cinder commanded. "See to it we are not disturbed."
Emerald nodded wordlessly as she leapt to her feet, darting past Phoebe, running past Cinder and the last smouldering remnants of the beowolf costume. Cinder heard her roll the warehouse door shut, enclosing the two of them in darkness, with only the moonlight shining in through the broken windows set high in the ceiling for illumination.
Phoebe swallowed and raised one hand. "Now, if this is about what I said about you and Pyrrha—"
"What you…? Is that what you think this is about? Is that all you think this is about?" Cinder would have laughed in incredulity, save that the sight of Phoebe standing before her stopped all laughter in her throat. It was all that she could do to speak, let alone laugh. "You have no idea, do you? You don't recognise me at all. You never recognised me, not at Beacon, not on the street." Cinder shook her head. "I was worried, at first. I was worried that you would recognise me, and … it had the potential to cause so many problems. But like a moth to a flame, I was drawn to the danger. I wanted to see you. I wanted you to see me. I wanted to see if you would know me, know who I was." She let out a breath, a ragged breath that was the closest thing that she could reach to an exasperated laugh. "But no. Nothing. I didn't even change my name, but you had no idea at all!"
"What are you talking about?" Phoebe demanded.
"You gave me this name!" Cinder yelled, taking a step forward. "I was not born to it; it was bestowed by you. I'd owe you thanks, did I not hate you so."
"Your name?" Phoebe whispered, and Cinder could see the recognition dawning in those eyes of hers, the way they narrowed and then widened, the way her mouth formed a square block of surprise. "Cinder?"
"Finally," Cinder growled. "Did you curse me with so commonplace a name that it never dawned on you that there might be some connection there?"
"But…" Phoebe shook her head. "You died in the fire."
"I set the fire," Cinder corrected her. "And made sure to be outside the house when it burned."
She thought about that night. It was … a steadying memory, a memory that never failed to strengthen her. No matter what happened, no matter how little control over her life or the world around her she felt she had, the memory of the night that she had escaped from the House of Kommenos and burned it to the ground was always a balm to her uncertainty, a reminder that she had a destiny grander than the meanness and degradation that her tormentors had in mind, a reminder that she had the power to be the architect of her own good fortune, if only she had the courage to try.
It was a memory that gave her strength, a strength she needed now, with Phoebe before her.
"You?" Phoebe barked. "You set the fire? You killed my mother, you … you killed Philonoe?" For a moment, she was silent, before she bared her teeth in a bestial snarl as she pulled her spear across her back and brandished it at Cinder. "You twice accursed bitch! I swear, by Thessaly, by Eulalia loud of the war cry, that I will make an offering of your blood to the spirit of my dear Philonoe and send your soul fleeing in anger down to the shades." Her snarling look turned to a smirk as she stepped forwards. "But not before I make it hurt. Just like old times."
Close your eyes, don't look up.
Here comes a monster to gobble you up.
Cinder took a step backwards, her glass slippers tapping on the concrete below.
I am not who I was. I am not that girl.
But I am still Cinder, and she is still Phoebe.
Phoebe's lip curled into a sneer. "What's the matter, Ashley? Did you think that you could come in here, reveal yourself, and … what? That I would turn into a terrified puddle of goo on the floor?" She sniggered. "You fool. Stupid, sweet, sensitive Ash—"
"My name is Cinder Fall!" Cinder snarled.
"And I have seen you fall!" Phoebe replied. "Should I tremble when I have seen Pyrrha shatter your aura and leave you helpless?"
Cinder drew her swords; metal swords, not glass, so it would be harder for anyone to tell that she had done the deed after they found the body. "You," Cinder growled, "are no Pyrrha Nikos." She held her steel scimitars out on either side of her and fought to stop her hands from trembling.
I can do this. I can exorcise this demon.
I must.
Cinder attacked; she would waste no more words, she would waste no more time. Now was the moment for action. Now was the moment to charge forward, blades bared, metal glinting in the moonlight.
Phoebe met her with gritted teeth, thrusting forward with her long spear. Cinder leapt up, letting the tip of the spear pass beneath her before she landed on the shaft, balancing both precariously and yet with grace as she ran down the shaft before Phoebe could respond and kicked her in the face.
Phoebe grunted as her head snapped up and back; she staggered backwards, and the all the moreso after Cinder followed up with one swift slash with her swords, and then another.
Phoebe turned, her spear jerking upwards to throw Cinder off. Cinder landed upon the cold concrete of the warehouse, just as Phoebe rolled, rolling to face Cinder once more, even as she pulled her shield from off her back.
She held the great tower shield so that it covered her left, while she held her spear in her right hand only, gripping it now overarm for a thrust.
She had replenished the fire dust in the shield, or so Cinder thought; the red circles surrounding her shield boss gleamed like rubies.
Or like blood.
Cinder stood, swords at the ready, waiting.
Phoebe held her shield so that the bottom half of her face was obscured; she could only see Phoebe's eyes, glaring at her.
Still, Cinder waited. She felt every nerve in her body crying out for her to attack, but she mastered herself and held firm. Better to wait and see what Phoebe would do.
Phoebe attacked, her steps sounding heavy, pounding upon the floor as she rushed towards Cinder like an oncoming bull.
She thrust downwards with her spear, but Cinder deftly turned the stroke aside with one of her swords. Still, Phoebe came on, shield before her, aiming to slam right into Cinder and bear her backwards. Cinder pirouetted upon her toe, dancing so nimbly that she would have been admired in all Mistralian ballrooms as she turned around Phoebe, her hair flying about her. Phoebe tried to turn as well, but she seemed so painfully slow and heavy-footed in comparison, slow to turn her shield, leaving her flank open for the savage kick that Cinder dealt her.
Phoebe staggered to the right, half-hunched over, still turning, jabbing with her spear. Cinder avoided it effortlessly, retreating out of range.
Phoebe straightened up and once more held her shield out in front of her.
This time, she made no effort to attack. She began to circle Cinder, or tried to, while Cinder circled her in turn; they were like two crabs contesting for dominance of a single stretch of beach, moving sideways with their spidery gait, clicking their claws at one another, never actually closing with their rivals.
They did not speak a word; the only sounds in the warehouse were the soft chinking of Cinder's slippers and the heavier thudding tread of Phoebe's boots.
Phoebe's grip on her spear was now underarm, defensive; Cinder guessed that she meant to wait for Cinder this time.
And it would be so disobliging to keep her waiting too long.
Cinder attacked, dashing forward, swords swept back for a duel slashing stroke.
Phoebe brought her shield up before her. Still, Cinder came on.
The fire dust set in Phoebe's shield began to glow even brighter. Still, Cinder charged with a great shout, but unseen to Phoebe, she activated her semblance, heating the air all around her, setting the air currents swirling as though she was in the very eye of the storm which raged around but touched her not.
The fire dust glowed ever brighter, and as Cinder closed the distance between the two of them, it erupted in a great explosion, a fiery roar shattering the stillness of the warehouse as flames erupted from out of the shield, engulfing Cinder.
Engulfing her, but passing all around her, driven by the currents of air that Cinder had set to swirling. Cinder felt the heat pass over her face, her aura was singed by the flames in places, but the fire did not consume her, it did not burn her aura all away, it didn't even come close. Her semblance carried the fire off, so that it surrounded her without doing harm.
But it looked very impressive as she leapt through the fire with eyes wild and hair askew, if she did say so herself.
She kicked off Phoebe's shield as she tried to retreat before her, spinning in the air like a leaping salmon as she landed behind Phoebe. Cinder kicked at her, striking Phoebe in the knee and forcing her down. As Phoebe dropped onto one knee with a gasp, Cinder slashed at her back with her swords once, twice, three times, then drew both swords across her throat for good measure, slicing her aura, if not her arteries.
Is this it? Is this the monster that I feared so much? Is this the terror of my childhood?
Nought but a shadow that turned to nothingness when the light was shone upon her.
Cinder kicked her again. Phoebe rolled and came up to face Cinder, casting her shield aside as she charged at Cinder with her spear held in two hands, whirling it in her grasp, weaving patterns in the air.
Cinder stood her ground. She would not yield to Phoebe, she had no need to yield to Phoebe, she parried her swipes and sallies, she clashed her swords with Phoebe's spear as the sparks flew, but she did not yield, not one step, not one inch. She stood fast, turning aside every stroke that Phoebe threw at her, enduring like a sea wall endures the waves, like a mountain endures the wind — save that the mountain cannot counter-attack when the wind falters, which Cinder most assuredly could.
She slipped her swords through the gaps in Phoebe's guard, she filled the holes in Phoebe's defences, she drove her blades forward at every opening opportunity. She snatched away parts of Phoebe's aura like guests at a party snatching up the canapes, every hungry hand lunging forth until there wasn't a vol au vent left.
Phoebe retreated, breathing heavy, eyes wide.
Eyes filled with fear.
Cinder imagined that her own eyes had looked like that, once upon a time.
How many times had Phoebe seen her eyes like that, as she dragged Cinder from her hiding places or clamped her hand over Cinder's mouth to stifle her screams?
Was there ever really anything to be afraid of?
Yes. Yes, there was, once. But I grew strong, and she stayed where she'd always been.
Cinder's smile was as sharp as the blades in her hand.
"You'll hear the screams, and now you'll know," she said, a slight sing-song cadence entering her voice. "Mommy and…" She paused. "Mommy can't help you now."
Phoebe stared at her, eyes so wide, her whole body trembling. She stared at Cinder, and then she threw her spear at her as she turned and ran for the warehouse door.
Cinder dropped her swords, letting both scimitars clatter to the ground.
With one hand, she caught the spear, stopping it dead in the air.
The other hand, she raised towards the fleeing Phoebe as Cinder called upon the magic of the Fall Maiden. She drew upon her half of the power, dragging it out of the depths of her soul like trying to draw treacle from a well. She could feel it resisting her, straining against her, but her will was the stronger, and she was the mistress. Though it was difficult, though it made her body ache, this magic would obey her.
It did obey her. Cinder dragged the magic up from the depths and cast a fireball from her outstretched palm to strike Phoebe in the back and knock her to the floor.
Cinder let the corona blaze around her eye as Phoebe turned over to look at her.
Now you've got something to really be scared of, Cinder thought as she conjured up more fire, as she let it dance around her, form rings in the air that turned and gambolled like some playful, living creature.
"What…" Phoebe gasped. "What are you?"
"I?" Cinder replied. "I am more than you could ever dream of." She stretched out her hand once more and let a river of fire burst forth from her palm towards Phoebe.
Phoebe grabbed her shield, still lying on the ground where she had cast it, and held it up in front of her. The flames broke upon the shield, lapping and licking over it, but for the most part diverted away by it, doing little harm to Phoebe's aura.
Still, Cinder cast the flames, pouring the fire out of her as she advanced on Phoebe, getting closer and closer as Phoebe, pinned down by the fire, stayed where she was, huddling beneath her shield, making no move to extricate herself.
Cinder bore down upon her, continuing to pour fire upon her from her hand until she was close enough to reach out, grab Phoebe's shield, and throw it away.
Then she grabbed Phoebe by the neck and hoisted her up, slamming her into the wall. With her semblance, she heated Phoebe's neck, ignoring Phoebe's fists as they pounded at her — she could survive that much damage to her aura, and more — as she reversed Phoebe's own spear and smote her on the breast with it.
Phoebe's aura broke, a green light rippling across her body. Phoebe's whole body seemed to sag, all strength departing her, her head pitching forwards, her blonde curls falling across her face.
Cinder dropped her, letting her slide down the wall to land at Phoebe's feet.
Phoebe trembled as she looked up at Cinder.
"Please … please—"
"'Please'?" Cinder snapped. "'Please'? You ask for mercy? You ask me for mercy, me? After what you did to me?" Her lip curled into a sneer. "I grant you the mercy of a swift end, without the suffering you promised me." Her voice softened. "Go, and greet your sister."
She thrust the spear forward, piercing Phoebe's cuirass and her breast. Her life blood spilled out of the wound, falling down the breastplate towards the floor.
Phoebe's eyes widened, and an exhalation of breath that was almost like a sigh but not quite escaped her.
Her head sagged forward as her limbs were dissolved in cold, and her spirit fled in anger down to the shades.
Cinder took a step back, wrenching the spear out of the wound.
She stared down at the lifeless corpse before her, the shell of flesh that had once been her tormentor, the terror of her nights and the misery of her days, the nightmare of her childhood. She that had once set the painful boundaries of Cinder's world, now dead at Cinder's hands.
I used to think you were so strong, so powerful.
Now, strength and power are mine, and you are food for worms.
I would have expected to feel more triumphant than this.
I killed Phoebe! I have destroyed the House of Kommenos, that old blood which fought as Cynoscephalae and Raphia, the august house which drew its sword for the Emperor at the Battle of Four Sovereigns, this family so old in years now utterly destroyed by me.
I am avenged in my childhood hurts.
So why can I take no joy in it?
Why is it that I can yet feel nothing but this empty cold inside, this hunger?
Have I become so inhuman that even the sweet nectar and ambrosia of victory is denied to me?
Yet, I have won. Joy will come, in time, I hope. Until then … I have won. I have beaten her and killed her.
It is over.
Now … now only great battles lie before me.
It is over.
It begins.
XxXxX
Author's Note: I start a new job tomorrow, with a longer commute, and as I settle in and learn the ropes I don't know how much writing time I'm going to have, so the fic will be going on hiatus for a month, coming back in September with, hopefully, some cool stuff for you all.
The sunlight crept in beneath the curtains to gently illuminate the bedroom of Lieutenant Martinez.
She and Mike had both been up for a while, and now Mike lay on his back, recovering from his exertions. Martinez would have been quite happy to go again, but for Mike's sake, she, too, lay in bed, on her side, watching the room get lighter around them like an insistent knocking on the door.
At the point at which the actual knocking on the door started, the message would become inescapable.
"We should probably get up," Mike murmured.
"Not yet," Martinez said quietly. "Just a couple more hours."
Mike snorted. "The kids will be up soon."
"And when the kids are up, I will get up," Martinez replied. "But unless I've gone deaf, the kids are still in bed, which means that I am gonna stay right here until—"
Her scroll buzzed on the nightstand.
Martinez glared at it.
That glare had reduced hardened criminals to quivering wrecks but did nothing to shut the scroll up.
She felt Mike's hand upon her back. "Are you going to answer that?"
"No," Martinez grunted.
"It might be work."
"Then that's too bad," Martinez said. "I'm on vacation. I was told to take a vacation. They can't tell me that I work too much and then call me in on my off-day."
The scroll continued to buzz insistently, oblivious to Martinez's irritation.
Martinez huffed wordlessly and sat up, swinging her legs out of bed as she threw the covers off herself. With one hand, she reached for her scroll, opening it up. It was work. It was Mallard, to be precise.
Martinez scowled and answered the scroll on private mode, so that she had to raise the device to her ear in order to hear what Mallard was saying. She didn't want him to disturb the kids if she put him on speaker. "This is Martinez."
"Sorry to bother you, El-Tee," Mallard said. "It's just … there's been a body found in the warehouses near Springhill Market. A dead girl."
"Murder?"
"Yes, boss."
"Sounds like one for the Murder Investigation Team," Martinez said.
"MIT don't want to touch this one with a ten foot pole, boss," Mallard explained. "They've thrown it to us, and ninth floor is backing them up on it."
Martinez frowned. It wasn't usual for the Flying Squad to be called in on a simple murder case; organised crime was their beat, and even when that was the case, she'd never heard of MIT voluntarily relinquishing a murder case before; usually, you had to fight tooth and nail to get them to back off.
"What's going on, why us? Who is this girl?" Her first thought was some gangster's girlfriend, or their daughter. Except she couldn't think of any that had daughters she knew of.
"… she's an Atlas student, boss."
Okay, that explained why MIT didn't want to touch it. She didn't want to touch it either.
Martinez bowed her head, letting her dark hair fall down around her face. "Ah, crap."
XxXxX
Gilda was in the safehouse kitchen. The coffee was in the cup and the kettle was on, and Gilda herself was bent over, rooting around in the fridge for something to eat. She had just straightened up, a box of eggs held in her hand, when she noticed Ilia standing in the kitchen doorway, watching her.
Her expression was grim.
Gilda frowned. "Is something wrong?"
"We need to talk," Ilia said, her voice firm, like a slab of concrete. "Everyone's waiting in the living room."
"So 'we' is bigger than you and me, in this instance?" Gilda asked.
Ilia nodded. "This involves all of us."
Gilda wasn't too keen on that, to be honest; the people that the High Leader had assigned to this operation were … well, Gilda was sure that they were perfectly good fighters, and skilled in infiltration and … assassination, and she understood that with the Vale Chapter having lost a lot of its best and brightest, they were going to be dependent on the High Leader's entourage for a mission like this.
None of that meant that she liked the team that she had been picked to lead, however. Of the Menagerie fighters, Ilia was the most tolerable of the bunch, and other than her…
But they were the group that she had been tasked to lead; they were the team that the High Leader had given her, and that meant that Gilda had to put up with them just as she had to put up with orders that she didn't like. That was what a good soldier did.
Compared with the fact that she was going to have to kill Dashie, the fact that she didn't like Yuma was pretty trivial by comparison.
And so, Gilda shrugged and put the eggs down on the light brown sideboard of the galley kitchen and followed Ilia out and into the living room next door.
Ilia was correct: everyone was there. Yuma — Gilda didn't know his surname and didn't much care to — was a bat faunus, with a pair of black leathery wings sticking out from his back, kind of folded up but at the same time a little bit spread out too. He was tall, and muscular too, with short brown — slightly reddish-brown, but not much — hair that was cut short and styled in rows of spikes sticking up out of his head. A goatee covered his chin, while leaving his square jaw bare and hairless. He was wearing black and grey, with only a brass-coloured zipper breaking up the colours, and he wore a black glove on his right hand, although his left hand was bare.
Trifa was another one whom Gilda didn't know the surname of. She was a spider faunus, and her traits manifested in the form of grey hands, like they'd been covered in stone, or turned to stone, and a greyness that spread visible up the veins on her arms, grey lines beneath her skin. She was on the shorter side, taller than Ilia but not so tall as Gilda, but with a bit of muscle definition on her bare arms. Like Yuma, like Ilia, she wore black and grey suitable for stealth, but her top had no sleeves, and the zip was undone, exposing the grey lines criss-crossing her chest. Her hair was as grey as the lines beneath her skin, cut short level with her jaw and the nape of her neck, framing her face and combed over so as to cover one of her grey eyes.
Woundwort was a rabbit faunus, with a pair of oversized incisors jutting down from his upper jaw that looked big enough to tear a man's throat out. There was a lot about Woundwort that looked big; the man was a giant, he looked ridiculous sitting in an armchair made for someone of average size, as though he would start to bulge out over it at any moment. When he stood up, he had to duck to avoid the ceiling. Muscle corded his entire body, and his black sleeveless vest wasn't really doing anything to conceal it. His face was puffy, bloated looking, and one of his eyes had been ruined by the SDC brand across his face.
Savannah was … Gilda wasn't entirely certain what she was; an ape faunus, Gilda thought, one of the ones with big teeth, but Gilda couldn't have said exactly what kind of ape, and Savannah had been in no mood to enlighten her. Like Woundwort, she had lost an eye, but there was no brand upon her face, just a lot of old scars concentrated on the left side of her face. Her remaining eye was a soft golden colour, one of the few things about her that really did look soft, because the rest of her features looked sharp enough to cut. Her arms were a little bit too long, and there was a wiriness about her whole body. Her hair was a light brown, like grass dried out under the sun, but cut so short that she might have been bald.
Rill was an otter faunus, with a large rudder-like tail visible between his legs; he was not so visibly bulging with muscle as Woundwort, but he clearly had some there, and he was nearly as tall as the rabbit faunus besides. Unlike the greys and blacks of many of his companions, Rill wore bright red pants that were a little too big for him and a river-blue vest that was sleeveless and half open, revealing the tattoos on his arms and chest — as well as what looked like a couple of bullet wounds that he'd survived at some point in the past. He had blue eyes and golden-brown hair cropped short on top of his head, and as he stared at Gilda, his hand kept straying to the knife at his belt.
There were seven of them, with Gilda and Ilia. Six of them chosen by the High Leader and Gilda chosen to lead them.
Seven of them against Dashie and Blake.
Gilda's eyes swept around the group. "Okay, I'm here," she said. "What's this all about?"
"Kali Belladonna is here," Ilia said.
Gilda's eyes bulged. "Ka— you mean Lady Belladonna? She's here? In Vale?"
"'Lady'?" Savannah repeated. "'Lady Belladonna'?"
"She's our High Chieftainess, isn't she?" Gilda replied.
"I serve one high lady, and Kali Belladonna isn't it," Savannah said. "She is no ruler of mine; she's nothing but a … a pampered housecat, sitting in the lap of luxury while the rest of us scavenge in the trash."
"Let's not use words like that, okay?" Gilda asked. "House cat, house faunus…" She tried to remember if she'd ever called Dashie anything like that. She didn't think that she had. She'd called her a sell-out, for sure, and a traitor, but she hadn't called her anything like that. Secure in the knowledge that she might be a lot of things but she wasn't a hypocrite, Gilda went on, "Especially not someone who does a lot of good for our people. There are a lot of folks living it up on Menagerie who wouldn't be if it weren't for Lady Belladonna."
"Including … your parents, Sister Gilda?" Yuma asked, his voice sinuous, soft, and a little slippery to Gilda's way of thinking.
"I'm not your sister," Gilda muttered.
That affectation — brother this, sister that — wasn't a White Fang thing; it was religious, hardcore God of Animals stuff: those whom the God had called to the Shallow Sea had been bound together, brothers and sisters of the spirit, joined together by fate, they and their descendants, in a common purpose. Gilda was no militant atheist, she believed in the old stories, but as far as she was concerned, addressing everyone as brother or sister was carrying it a bit too far.
Especially when you made it sound as though the person you were addressing was the black sheep of the family you would rather disown.
"But yes," Gilda said. "My parents live on Menagerie, thanks to Lady Belladonna." She returned her attention to Ilia. "How do you know that she's here? Are you sure?"
"I saw her on the news," Ilia replied, getting out her scroll. She opened it up and held it out towards Gilda as she started to play a video clip, some kind of news item.
"The Vytal Tournament began yesterday with sixteen thrilling battles between teams of four," the voice of a female reporter declared, as clips of various students — Gilda recognised Dashie and her team amongst them — played in a swift montage of bright colours and flashy moves. "At the end of the day, five Beacon Academy teams had emerged victorious, alongside four teams from Atlas Academy, four from Haven Academy, and three from Shade Academy. A shocking upset came early in the day as Team Coffee, a Beacon Academy team widely tipped to make the one-on-one round, was demolished in their match, the entire team being eliminated by a single Haven student, Arslan Altan of Team Auburn. With me in the studio to discuss this is former Vytal champion—"
"Hang on," Ilia muttered. "Let me move ahead." She ran her thumb around the bottom of the scroll screen, moving the video along before pausing it on a picture of a fairground at night, lively-looking even though there weren't many people around.
In the centre of the picture, sitting at some kind of noodle stand, Gilda could see Lady Belladonna, sitting with a man in an Atlas uniform and a woman in a bright pink trouser suit.
It was definitely the High Chieftainness of Menagerie; Gilda had never met her, but she'd seen plenty of pictures.
"Huh," Gilda said. "What's she doing here? Do you think she came to see Blake?"
"She came to sell us out," Ilia declared. "That's an Atlesian councillor she's talking to."
Gilda frowned as she looked down at the picture. There did look to be some security goons standing around in the picture, but still… "At a noodle stand?"
"That's Councillor Mi Amore Cadenza," Ilia insisted. "She's been on our list ever since she destroyed the Atlas Chapter. And she's meeting with Kali Belladonna. What does that tell you?"
"I don't know what it tells me," Gilda replied. "Maybe … maybe they're just talking about how well Blake and Rainbow Dash did in the first round matches?"
"Or maybe she's selling out our people to Atlas," growled Savannah.
"How would she do that?" Gilda demanded. She barely waited for a response before she said, "What is this? So what if Lady Belladonna is here, what is it that you want?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Woundwort growled.
Gilda snorted. "Maybe it is," she admitted. "But I want one of you to have the guts to say it, partly because I hope I'm wrong."
She looked at Ilia, but she said nothing. She opened her mouth, but no words emerged. She looked away, hugging her arm with her other hand as her skin turned a pale shade of green, while her spots and eyes turned a light blue.
"Say it," Gilda growled. "Somebody say it, or we're done here."
"They have to die," Trifa said, her voice flat and a little distant sounding, as though she wasn't really there in the room with the rest of them. "The Atlesian councillor and—"
"Lady Belladonna?" Gilda asked.
Trifa shrugged. "We're killing the daughter, why not kill the mother too?"
Killing Blake is bad enough, Gilda thought. "Because she's the High Chieftain's wife? Because what do you think Lord Belladonna will do once he finds out that we killed his wife?"
"What do you think he'll do when he finds out we killed his daughter?" asked Rill.
"That's different; that's our mission," Gilda declared. "Those are our orders from the High Leader. Nothing was said about killing Lady Belladonna, or any Atlesian councillor for that matter."
"The High Leader didn't know that she was here," Ilia said, finding her voice once more.
"That's irrelevant," Gilda said. "We have our mission objectives, objectives, I might add, that will be hard enough for us to accomplish without diverting our efforts onto this!"
"Surely you can see that our objectives pale into insignificance in the face of the prize that now lies before us, Sister Gilda," Yuma said, leaning forward. "Who is Rainbow Dash? Who is Blake Belladonna? Today's heroes, yes, but tomorrow, they will be nobodies, forgotten women."
So the High Leader says, Gilda said. But she wants them dead all the same. Maybe she's not altogether certain that they'll just fade away.
"But," Yuma went on, "if we strike down a Councillor, we will not only avenge the Atlas Chapter, but we will demonstrate that there is no one, no matter how high or mighty, who is safe from the wrath of the White Fang. We will have shown how long and sharp our claws truly are in a way that will be remembered for decades to come!"
"And Lady Belladonna?" Gilda demanded.
"Sic Semper Tyrannis," Ilia muttered, the green shade of her skin deepening.
Gilda's brow furrowed. "Translation?"
"Thus ever to tyrants," Ilia explained. "Why should the Belladonnas live so high on the hill and leave so little for the rest of us?"
Gilda shrugged. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm here to fight for faunus rights, not worry about inequality amongst the faunus." She paused. "More to the point, I'm here to do as I'm told, and I've not been told anything about Lady Belladonna or Councillor Cadenza. Everything that you've said, about killing them, that's not for us to decide. Only the High Leader can make those sorts of calls, and the High Leader isn't here. So are we going to follow our orders and complete our mission, or shall I be sure to tell the High Leader when we get back that you lot thought you knew better than she did and see what the Higher Leader thinks of your initiative?"
As Gilda had expected, as she had hoped, she struck home with that question. It was clear to her that the High Leader did not value disobedience, and the reminder of that fact caused a silence to dampen the fire of the group for more bloodshed.
Ilia's skin changed from green to blue, matching the colour of her speckles and her eyes. Rill shifted uneasily in his seat. Savannah scowled and looked away. Neither Yuma nor Trifa would meet Gilda's eyes. Only Woundwort seemed unaffected, but even he didn't speak up in favour of the course that they had so desired.
Gilda … Gilda believed in everything she'd said — these weren't their orders, this wasn't their mission, and the High Leader wasn't likely to look kindly upon them just deciding to do something else other than what they'd been told to do. But she also just didn't want to do it. She didn't want to kill Lady Belladonna. She didn't really want to kill Lady Belladonna's daughter either, but she wanted to kill the mother even less. As far as she was concerned, Lady Belladonna was a hero to the faunus, and she'd imagine she was far from the only one who felt that way.
It was bad enough to kill those who were trying their best, even if they were wrong; it was something else to kill someone who was honestly making the world a better place, for some people anyway.
But she wasn't sure how far that would get her with this lot; they were a bit of a band of cutthroats in Gilda's opinion, so if she could just convince them to knuckle down and do as they were told, then so much the better.
"You're right," Ilia whispered. She spoke more to the floor than to Gilda, but she spoke nevertheless. "We are all … loyal and obedient servants of the High Leader, and we will obey the commands the High Leader has given us. The High Leader has commanded that Blake and the Altesian who corrupted her shall die, so we will do it, no matter what … no matter what else we might want to do, or how we might feel about our orders." She paused, and her skin colour returned to normal, as did the colour of her eyes and her speckles. "So … how are we going to do it?"
"We…" Gilda trailed off, gathering her thoughts together because she had been giving it some thought, even if she'd rather have had something to eat before getting into this. "We're going to start," she said, "by getting tickets to the tournament…"
XxXxX
Cinder stared at the screen.
She could hardly believe it. She couldn't believe it at all.
She had meant to catch up on what she'd missed as she and Emerald snuck into Vale to deal with Phoebe once and for all. She had meant to see who was going forward into the two-on-two round and who would be up against whom in that round. She had watched the news merely to sate her curiosity, to find out early what she could have found out by simply watching the matches as they came up. It wasn't as though it took Lisa Lavender to inform her that Sunset would choose Pyrrha and herself to move forward, after all, and she could have waited to find out which poor saps they would be crushing beneath their chariot wheels.
But she had watched, because she wanted to see a few clips of how it had happened, and because … well, because she had nothing better to do.
She was also, she confessed, curious as to how the death of Phoebe Kommenos would be reported, although it had not yet been reported. Apparently, the Vytal Tournament was more important than a dead Mistralian heiress.
What was the world coming to?
Cinder would have been amused by it in other circumstances.
But now, having watched the news on something of an impulse, having looked upon it as a relaxing diversion, now, all of a sudden, Cinder found herself transfixed by the screen, held captive by it, unable to tear her eyes away, unable to do aught but stare into wonder and amazement.
Emerald had put the stream on pause, holding a single frame suspended before their eyes. No doubt to the editors, it seemed a frame of no great import; there was some passing mention of Pyrrha Nikos, and so, alongside a brief clip of Team SAPR's victory over Team PSTL, there was also a clip of that same Team SAPR walking amongst the fairgrounds.
But Cinder was more interested in who had been captured walking with them in that picture. There, besides Sunset and Pyrrha and Jaune Arc, there was a fourth girl, not Ruby … actually, there were five girls; the Atlesian was there as well, the redheaded one, but she wasn't important - she was so unimportant that Cinder couldn't even remember her name. She wasn't why Cinder was staring in awed disbelief.
There, with most of the members of Team SAPR, walking through the fairgrounds as though she hadn't a care in the world, was Amber.
Amber, the Fall Maiden. The Fall Maiden who Cinder had…
At last, Cinder was able to tear her gaze away from the screen and from the sight of Amber; at last, she was able to look away, but only to look down at her own hand, the hand from which a thread of grimm essence had leapt, like the fire that had kept Phoebe huddled beneath her shield, to half-engulf Amber's face and bind the two of them together, dragging Amber's magic, and her aura, out of her and passing both to Cinder.
The hand that had made her powerful.
The hand that had made her monstrous.
The hand that had made her so much more and less than human.
"Is that…? That can't be," Emerald murmured. She leaned forward, back bent, getting very close to the screen as she squinted with her dark red eyes. "Can it?"
"It is her, unless mine own eyes deceive me," Cinder said. That was possible, but the weaknesses of her eyesight had so far pertained only to reading. Amber was not blurry to her sight; she could still make out her face and all the details on it.
"I don't see…" Emerald began, but then trailed off.
Cinder waited a moment for her to finish. "What?" she demanded. "What don't you see?"
Emerald looked up at her. "Scars," she said. "When you … there were a lot of scars on her face, but I don't see them."
"Because she's hiding them with makeup," Cinder said. "Do you not agree that if that is not Amber, then it is the most uncanny resemblance?"
Emerald was silent for a moment. "I thought," she said. "I mean … how?"
"That," Cinder replied, "is the question. There is no way that she should be walking after…" She looked down at her hand once again, clenching and unclenching her fist. She could feel the grimm essence within more strongly than she could feel the stolen magic; she could feel it numbing all other sensations: warmth, the feel of her sleeve upon her skin. There was nothing but the cold, cold fire burning her up from the inside out.
"After what I did to her," Cinder murmured. The process, the transfer, the theft of her power and aura should have killed Amber. It would have killed Amber if one of Ozpin's huntsmen hadn't interrupted it. He had severed the connection between the two of them, cleaving the grimm tendrils with his sword, and Cinder and the others, worn out by their battle with Amber, had been forced to beat a retreat — even as Ozpin's huntsman had done likewise, prioritising Amber's rescue over pursuit of the enemy.
The last that Cinder had seen of Amber she had been lying comatose in the arms of her rescuer, her face … scarred, just as Emerald had said.
Cinder did not believe that she could have recovered from that, from what had been…
From what I took from her.
The technology did not exist to heal the injury that Cinder had dealt her; the power was not…
The power was not in this world.
But in another world.
"Sunset," Cinder breathed.
"Cinder?" Emerald asked.
"Sunset," Cinder repeated. "Sunset has done this."
Emerald looked, stared really, up at Cinder. She stared up even as she straightened up, forced to do so by the difference in their heights. "How can you be so sure?"
"I know of none other who could have done it," Cinder replied.
Emerald's eyes narrowed. "That doesn't mean—"
"Then how was it done?" Cinder demanded. "She did not simply get better!" Seeing Emerald take a step back, Cinder closed her eyes and sighed. "Forgive me," she murmured. "That was … this revelation has me…" She sighed again, and even deeper this time. "Sunset, what have you done?"
There was a part of her that felt betrayed, even as another part of her recognised the absurdity of that feeling of betrayal. Sunset owed her … nothing. At the very least, even if you could make a claim upon some gratitude on Sunset's part — she had saved their lives, after all; Merlot would have blown the whole of Team SAPR to kingdom come if it hadn't been for her — then one would be hard pressed to argue that it extended to letting Amber die, or letting her languish in a sleep like death, waiting for a prince to kiss her awake.
If one were being perfectly fair, one would probably have to say that Cinder's actions in saving Team SAPR were as a molehill compared to the Mistral mount of debt that Cinder owed to Sunset for all the grief that Sunset had been forced to endure, in every sense, because of Cinder's actions.
In either case, no one could reasonably say that Sunset owed Cinder enough that she ought not have to saved Amber's life if the opportunity arose.
But the heart was not always rational, and Cinder's heart no more rational than Sunset's own, and so, her irrational heart could not but feel betrayed, to see not only the other Fall Maiden, the true Fall Maiden, awake and well-seeming and happy-seeming because of Sunset's actions, but also walking with Sunset, smiling, happy.
And Amber looked happy to be with Sunset too.
Of course, Sunset made her choice long ago. I have no right to complain of it now.
By what right could I ask her 'how could you do this'? Rather, I should ask myself what else I would expect her to do.
No … no the question is…
How did she come to do it?
That was not the question, of course. The question was what she, Cinder, would do now that she knew that Amber was awake, but Cinder didn't have the answer to that question just yet, and so, while she thought about it, she busied herself with simultaneously wondering just how Sunset had been in a position to heal Amber thus.
Obviously, Ozpin had given her the opportunity, but … why? Because she was dying? She had been dying for some time, and when Cinder had last been at Beacon, there had been no sign of Amber. And Sunset had believed Cinder when she told her that she was the Fall Maiden, whole and entire, that she had killed her predecessor. She hadn't called Cinder a liar; she hadn't pointed out the existence of another Fall Maiden, the true Fall Maiden from whom Cinder had stolen only some of the magic. No one had. At that point, at the time of their mission against Doctor Merlot, nobody had doubted that Cinder was the one and only Fall Maiden and that she had acquired the power through murder.
So it was after that that Ozpin told Sunset the truth.
Because … because he was desperate? Because he had realised that Sunset's magic might be able to do what his could not?
Or did Sunset have the idea?
Because…
Because…
Because, because, because of the wonderful wizard he was.
Because… She could not answer the because. She could not explain why it had happened now, how Sunset had found out about Amber, any of it.
All she could do was … deal with it.
"What now?" Emerald asked. "What will you do?"
"An excellent question, Emerald," Cinder murmured. "Perhaps the only question that really matters: what will I do?"
What will I do?
"Does it…?" Emerald cleared her throat. "Does it matter?"
Cinder looked at her, and raised one eyebrow inquisitively.
"I mean," Emerald hesitated a moment, her hands balling into fists, before she said, with more force than was perhaps necessary, "why do you need the Maiden's powers when you're planning to die? If you don't want anything but to kill Pyrrha Nikos and then get slaughtered by vengeful Mistralians, then what does it matter whether you have all the powers of the Fall Maiden or not?"
Cinder stared down at her, silent for a moment, and then a moment more. "Did it take courage to ask me that?"
Emerald swallowed. "Some, yes."
Cinder chuckled. "I am sorry for it, even as I commend your courage. In truth, it is … a fair question. What need…?" She looked down at her hand again. "What need, indeed? I would not kill Pyrrha as a Maiden, and as you say … I will rouse such a fury against me by Pyrrha's death that Maiden's magic will not protect me. And yet…"
Emerald blinked. "And yet?"
"I would be something, Emerald," Cinder said. "I would be … more than I am, more than I was, more than I was born, more than I was made, I would be … do you believe in destiny, Emerald?"
"No," Emerald said flatly.
"That was quick," Cinder remarked.
Emerald shrugged. "I don't," she said. "I don't believe that we're all on rails that someone — who? If destiny is a real thing, then who set it down? Who is laying these rails we're on? — placed in front of us years ago, that we can't deviate from. It just doesn't make any sense to me."
"The Fates," Cinder answered.
"Hmm? I mean, pardon?"
"The Fates span out our … fates," Cinder explained. "The sisters three who sit at heaven's spinning wheel, weaving the tapestry of all things with the occasional pointed suggestion of the gods. So, at least, it was said in Mistral, by those who believe in such things."
"But they're not real," Emerald pointed out, "are they?"
"Many — most — would say not in this day and age," Cinder admitted. "And yet … I confess myself a little surprised."
Emerald's brow furrowed. "By what, and why?"
"Because when I was like you — powerless, alone, desperate — I clung to destiny," Cinder said. "It was my comfort, my reassurance, my strength. If I had not understood that I was meant for more than I was and had, that there was something better and grander waiting for me … I could scarcely have put one foot in front of the other." She paused. "I would see my destiny fulfilled. Though it avails me nought, I would become something glorious, majestic, powerful. I would rise transcendent above the run of the common men; I would be exalted ere they tear me down and lay me low. It is true that I could enter the vault and retrieve the relic with the power that I possess, if only we knew where the vault was, but for me … the power is like a victor's laurels on my brow. The having, not the use, is all."
Emerald did not look particularly satisfied with that response. The frown remained upon her face; her nose was wrinkled up, her lips crinkled with distaste. "Then what?" she asked. "What are we going to do?"
Finish what I started, was the obvious answer. Kill Amber and take the rest of the power. But how to do that? It was not so easy. Cinder could not simply walk into Beacon after all.
Sweetie Drops has abandoned me, and I do not trust Tempest Shadow.
And yet, unable to enter Beacon as I am, I may have little choice but to trust her.
Or perhaps… Cinder's gaze fell upon Emerald. Not to kill, no, but to observe, at least.
"How would you feel," Cinder said, "about disguising yourself for the second time in as many days?"
Lieutenant Martinez stepped out of the car almost before it had stopped moving, surveying the exterior of the warehouse. The fact that this was the place was obvious, not only because of the uniformed officers standing outside and the blue and white crime scene tape surrounding the area, but also, unfortunately, because of the reporters who were already starting to gather like carrion birds.
The uniforms were keeping them at bay and stoically refusing to answer any of the questions that were being thrown at them, but nevertheless, Martinez wasn't particularly pleased to see them.
"Crap," she growled. "How in the gods' names did they find out about this?"
"Maybe someone in MIT tipped them off, boss?" Mallard suggested.
Martinez sighed. "Maybe," she muttered as she started to push through the press pack. "Okay, move aside, make a hole, coming through."
Shoving them out of her way — don't worry; she didn't push any of them off their feet or anything — felt good, but unfortunately, it had the downside that they recognised her voice, and the ones that didn't recognised her face as soon as they turned around to look at her.
"Lieutenant Martinez!"
"Lieutenant, is the Flying Squad handling this investigation? Why?"
"Is this gang related?"
"The investigation has just begun; no comment at this time," Martinez said, looking at no reporter in particular as she raised her voice enough to let it carry across the whole pack of them. She flashed her badge to the uniform sergeant as she ducked under the blue and white tape and strode towards the warehouse.
Mallard followed in her wake, walking quickly to catch up with her.
"Have we ID'd the victim yet?" Martinez asked as she walked through the open warehouse doors.
"Yes, El-Tee," Mallard said. "Her name is Phoebe Kommenos; she was on television this afternoon."
Martinez stopped. "The Vytal Tournament?"
"That's right," Mallard said. "Did you see it?"
"I watched most of it," Martinez replied. "I don't remember a Phoebe Kommenos."
"Last fight of the day, boss," Mallard explained. "Team Sapphire of Beacon against Team Pastel of Atlas. Our victim is — was — the leader of Team Pastel."
"I didn't watch the last couple of fights," Martinez explained. "The kids were getting restless so I made dinner. Who won the fight?"
If Team Pastel had won, then that might be a possible motive, sore loser looking for payback and all that.
"Team Sapphire, from Beacon," Mallard said. "That Sunset Shimmer girl who got caught in the bombings a while back."
"Right," Martinez murmured. "So our victim lost?"
Mallard nodded. "She didn't take it very well."
"Really?"
"Not at all," Mallard said. "Tried to rush one of her opponents after the fight was over, made a spectacle of herself."
"Hmm," Martinez muttered. That kind of shot her possible motive out of the water; if you'd won a fight fair and square, why would you seek out the person you'd just beat in public and kill them?
Unless the victim picked another fight and died doing it.
But if it was self-defence, why not call it in?
I don't know. It's all just speculation at this stage anyway.
She walked into the warehouse, the morning sunlight disappearing into the shadows of the warehouse. The shadows were dispelled only by some lights set up to illuminate the body of a dead girl, lying sat up against the warehouse wall, slumped, with her head bowed.
She had a very nasty wound in her chest like she'd been impaled with something.
She probably had been.
Martinez stepped closer, taking in the victim: she was wearing her battledress, with armour on; she had come for a fight, or at the very least, she'd been prepared for one.
Beside the dead girl knelt the medical examiner, Doctor Fleur Badland; she was an elderly woman, with a round face with plenty of wrinkles on it and platinum blonde hair that she almost certainly dyed, although Martinez didn't know for sure. She was wearing blue forensic overalls that covered her from neck to shoes, so that only her head and face were visible.
Fleur glanced up at Martinez and Mallard as they came in. "Lieutenant," she said, "I wouldn't have thought this was your usual beat."
"MIT thought this stank, and they didn't want to get the smell on their suits," Martinez said. "Morning, Doc. I take it the cause of death is that wound on her chest."
"It certainly doesn't appear to be postmortem," Fleur replied. "Although, of course, I won't know for sure until I've completed my examination. Did you see her on television yesterday?"
"No," Martinez said. "I've heard she got into it with the opposition after the fight was over."
Fleur nodded. "She seemed very upset about something." She paused. "You know, I knew a Vytal Tournament contestant once."
Martinez took a deep breath. "The same way you've known everyone else?"
Fleur smiled. "He led his team to victory and then proclaimed his love for me from the middle of the arena. And then we went to a motel to celebrate with—"
"Yeah, I think I can guess," Martinez said quickly. She gestured with one hand at the spear lying beside the victim, with blood on the tip. "Is that the murder weapon?"
"I would say so, yes," Fleur agreed. "Although—"
"You'll have to complete your examination to know for sure," Martinez finished the sentence for her. "So what happened to him?"
"Him?"
"The huntsman who proclaimed his love for you from the centre of the arena."
Fleur chuckled. "I like to taste wine, Lieutenant, but I could never live on just a single vintage for my whole life, no matter how excellent it was."
"Mmm," grunted Martinez, who had married her high school sweetheart. "What do we know about the victim? Besides that she was an Atlas student and she fought in the Vytal Tournament yesterday."
"Twenty-one years old," Mallard said. "Mistralian by birth. General Ironwood has been informed, and so has the Mistralian embassy; we're hoping one or both of them can tell us more about her."
At that moment, Martinez heard the soft hum of an airship's engines close by — and getting closer. She could hear an indistinct noise from the reporters outside, even if she couldn't make out quite what they were saying. It was enough to tell her that something was going on out there.
She turned towards the warehouse doors, still open, just in time to see General Ironwood leap from one of his military airships, which hadn't landed — there wasn't quite the space — but was hovering just above the ground, close enough for a safe drop.
So, he decided to come and check things out himself. That was kind of annoying, but at the same time, it was also … well, she couldn't help but respect him for it a little bit.
General Ironwood strode into the warehouse, hands clasped behind his back. He didn't pay Martinez, or Mallard, or anyone else any notice at all. His look, his attention, was fixed on the dead girl slumped against the wall.
His dead girl.
He walked towards her, ignoring everything and everyone else.
He knelt down beside the body.
"Gods," General Ironwood murmured, and with one hand — his gloved hand — he reached out and closed her eyes.
He stayed kneeling down for a few seconds, fingers resting upon the face of the late Phoebe Kommenos; his head was bowed, almost like he was praying.
Perhaps he was praying; Martinez couldn't say that he wasn't a religious type.
General Ironwood rose to his feet, head still bowed; only when he had clasped his hands behind his back did he raise his head, at the same time as he turned to face Martinez.
General Ironwood nodded. "She was too young for this."
Martinez had seen younger, but she didn't like the fact, and she wasn't minded to disagree with the general's sentiment. "I don't suppose her next of kin are in town for the tournament?"
"She doesn't have a next of kin," General Ironwood said. "Her mother and sister died in a house fire during her first year at Atlas."
"Father?" Martinez asked.
"Dead before she came to the Academy," General Ironwood said. "I admit I'm not sure how. It wasn't something she brought up."
"Understandable," Martinez murmured. "So no relatives, at all?"
General Ironwood shook his head. "She was the last of her family."
"You say that like her family mattered," Martinez said.
"I think it did, in Mistral," General Ironwood answered. "A lot of our Mistralian students at Atlas come from what the Mistralians regard as good families. She was from one of those."
"So she was rich?" Martinez asked.
"She never wanted for anything," General Ironwood said, "although I never pried into her financials."
"I don't suppose you know who inherits, with no immediate relatives?" asked Martinez.
"I'm afraid you'll probably need a Mistralian lawyer to answer that one for you," General Ironwood said, "and they might need a genealogist, for all I know. All I can tell you is that she didn't have any direct family. Of course, we try and make the Academy a home for all our students, but Kommenos … she didn't want what she saw as pity."
"What was she like?" Martinez asked.
"Talented," General Ironwood said. "Not the best fighter, man to man, but a good leader, a good student, disciplined, hard working."
"Any enemies?"
"No," General Ironwood said at once. "Not that I know of, at least."
"What about what happened in the tournament yesterday?" Martinez asked.
"That … Kommenos got carried away," General Ironwood said.
"Hmm," Martinez muttered.
She wouldn't put it past the general to try and protect the reputation of his academy or his students, even if that meant letting a murder go unsolved. It was the way the world worked, in her opinion, especially when it came to so-called elite institutions. They closed ranks to protect themselves, and all the important and powerful people associated with them.
"I'll need to talk to her teammates," she said, hoping that they might be more honest with her than the general, or at least know more than he did.
"Of course," said General Ironwood. "I can take you up to Beacon in my airship, if you'd like."
"Thanks, General, just give me a minute," Martinez said, turning away from him and beckoning for Mallard to come closer. "Get forensics down here, check the whole warehouse for anything that might come up. Then get ahold of the Mistralian police and ask them to send over everything they've got on the fire that killed Phoebe Kommenos' mother and sister."
"You think there's a connection?" asked Mallard.
"Just because we don't know who inherits doesn't mean the person who inherits doesn't know," Martinez pointed out. "It's worth a look, anyway; we don't have that many leads that we can just ignore one. And check all the CCTV between her and the skydock. Phoebe came down here ready for a fight; maybe she didn't come here alone."
XxXxX
"So," Blake said, "do you two have everything figured out for your fight today?"
Team YRBN walked into the dining hall, to be greeted by the smells of the breakfast buffet wafting through the air towards them over the heads of the students who were already present and seated.
Said students included Team SAPR, who were sat down on their habitual table with Penny, Amber, and Teams WWSR and BLBL; they also included Team RSPT, who were sat — minus Penny, obviously — on the other side of the hall, with many other Atlas students, including most of Team TTSS and Neon Katt.
It was a little strange to see Team RSPT not sat with Team SAPR, but Blake supposed that variation from time to time might be a good thing.
"What's there to figure out?" Nora asked. "We'll just hit 'em hard and keep on hitting 'em until we win, right, Yang?!"
"That's pretty much our strategy, yeah," Yang said.
Blake's eyebrows rose. "I think you might find your opponents aren't quite obliging enough to let it be that simple."
"Well, obviously, that's why I said that it's 'pretty much' our strategy," Yang said. "Obviously, I have an actual plan; what do you take me for?"
"A good team leader," Blake said. "Perhaps the best team leader at this school. That's why I thought it was weird that you seemed so blasé about this coming fight."
"I guess it could have seemed that way," Yang admitted, "but, in my defence, between me and Nora, we don't have the speed or the agility to outmanoeuvre our opponents, and while we could try and fight from a distance, and we could do some damage that way, we probably couldn't keep the distance open if our opponents wanted to close, and we're better up close. So hitting hard as fast as we can and trying to keep the pressure up until we've smashed our way through probably is our best bet."
Blake found that the logic of that, once expressed more fully, was rather inarguable. "True," she said, "but even so, there's room for some finesse."
"And I will come up with some finesse, don't worry," Yang said. She paused. "What do you mean, I'm 'perhaps' the best team leader?"
Blake shrugged. "You and Sunset have different gifts; it makes it hard to make an absolute judgement between you."
"Right," Yang murmured as the four of them drifted across the dining hall towards the table where Team SAPR sat with Amber, Penny, and Team WWSR. "I'm not sure Sunset will be pleased to hear that either. Or Weiss, for that matter."
Blake chuckled softly. "I'm sure I'll survive their disapproval."
"Hey, Blake!" the voice of Rainbow Dash intruded upon their discussion as the Atlesian team leader made her way across the cafeteria towards them, intercepting Blake and the rest of Team YRBN before they could reach the SAPR table. "Hey," she said again, "can I borrow you for a second? Great, thanks."
She wrapped one arm around Blake's shoulders and began to steer her away, towards the table where Team RSPT — absent Penny — sat with TTSS and the various other Atlas students.
"Morning, by the way," Rainbow said.
"Good morning," Blake said. "What's going on?"
"Nothing much," Rainbow said. "It's just that you should have breakfast with us this morning."
Blake blinked. "Why?"
"Because you're one of us, or you will be; in fact, you pretty much are already," Rainbow explained, while not explaining anything. "And it's important that we stand shoulder to shoulder today."
Blake's brow furrowed a little. "Is this … is this because Trixie and Starlight are facing Sunset and Pyrrha? Is that why you're not having breakfast with Team Sapphire?"
"Yes, Blake, that is it exactly," Rainbow agreed. "Trixie and Starlight need to know that we are on their side, and they need to know that you're on their side, and you need to show that you're on their side, the same as the rest of us."
"Do they really care that much?"
"Have you met Trixie?"
"Yes, yes, I have, and underneath the performative persona, she had as good a sense of priority and duty as any huntsman," Blake pointed out. "This is just a match in a tournament; it doesn't really matter."
"Maybe not, but that's why we can — why we have to — do stuff like this," Rainbow countered. "I mean, obviously, if there was a real fight going on between them, and Trixie and Starlight were wrong, then I'd be on the side of Team Sapphire, but this isn't a real fight, and there is no right or wrong, and so, it's our duty to support our fellow Atlesians, any way we can."
"By eating with them?"
"Well, we're not just eating with them," Rainbow said. "We're also helping them plan out their strategy, and since you know Team Sapphire as well as anyone who isn't actually a part of Team Sapphire—"
"You want me to help them?" Blake asked. "Do you really think they can win?"
"I don't know if they can," Rainbow admitted. "But I know that we have to support them every step of the way until the fight is over, win or lose."
"Hmm," Blake murmured. "Penny's over there with Team Sapphire," she pointed out.
"Penny isn't one of us," Rainbow replied. "Or at least, she won't be. She doesn't want to be. She isn't. It's hard to say it right with these school transfers; you and Penny have made the leap, but it's like you're still stuck in mid-air, suspended until the year ends, and you can both move on to where we all know that you want to go."
"I suppose you're right," Blake replied. "But at the same time, the way that you talk about Penny … it feels a little bit…"
"I guess," Rainbow admitted. "But what I'm trying to say is that her real friends are from Beacon, she wants to go to Beacon, so she's under no obligation to pretend that she isn't rooting for Sunset and Pyrrha. She can even help them out with their battle plan, if she likes."
"I'm not sure she knows enough about either Trixie or Starlight for that."
"No," Rainbow agreed. "But she could help, if she had any help to offer them."
They reached what Blake now could not help but think of as the Atlas table, where she felt herself to be under the gaze of many Atlas students. Fortunately, most of those gazes were friendly, although she felt as though some — such as those coming from the members of Team SABR — were a little less so.
Trixie touched her fingers to the brow of her starry hat. "Blake."
"Trixie, Starlight, Sunburst," Blake greeted the members of Team TTSS, at least the ones who were there for her to greet. "Where's Tempest?"
"Who knows?" Starlight asked.
"Who cares?" Trixie added.
"Trixie," Starlight said in a tone of mild reproach.
"What?" Trixie asked.
Starlight shook her head. "Hey, Blake."
"Morning," Blake said, sitting down in an empty space between Starlight and Twilight. "How are you feeling about today?"
"The Grrrrrreat and Powerrrrrful Trrrrrixie is suprrrrremely confident!" Trixie proclaimed. "We've got this."
"Really," Blake said. "Then you don't need any help then, do you?"
"No, wait, Trixie didn't say that!" Trixie squawked, waving her hands frantically. "I mean, ahem, the Grrrrreeat and Powerrrrrful Trrrrrixie would of course welcome all advice that could possibly refine our already excellent battle strategy into an even more perfect form."
"Although perhaps Blake should be allowed to get something to eat before we begin," Twilight suggested.
"'We'?" Blake repeated, as she looked around the table. "You're all—"
"Why not?" Neon asked. "Those Beacon kids are fine and all, but we all want to see Atlas win."
"Fair enough, but don't you have your own matches?" Blake asked. "You do."
"Against some Vacuans, yeah," Neon said. "We're all agreed that Trixie and Starlight have the biggest obstacle in their path."
"Is that so?" Blake asked. She looked again around the table, taking in Neon and her teammates, Rainbow Dash, Ciel, before focussing her attention upon the four members of Team SABR. "I know that we don't know one another, but you'll forgive me if I say that you're being complacent; you should worry less about what Trixie and Starlight are up against in Sunset and Pyrrha and more about what you're up against in Weiss and Flash."
"Well, that's us told, isn't it?" said Sabine, the leader of Team SABR. "A Belladonna has spoken, and we must obey."
Standing across from Blake, not quite having sat down at the table, Rainbow Dash drew in a deep breath and exhaled through her nostrils like a bull.
Blake kept her own voice very calm, or she endeavoured to, at least, and even thought that she'd managed it. "I don't expect my name to carry any special weight, but I'd appreciate it if nobody sought to use it against me. I'm not my father, or my mother, and I'm not telling you anything; I'm just giving you some advice: Weiss won't go down without a fight."
Sabine opened her mouth, only to be cut off by Neon.
"Don't," she said. "Just … just don't, okay." Neon yawned, covering her mouth with one hand. "It is far, far too early in the morning for any of your crap, and it's certainly too early in the morning to be starting fights with Blake. Come on, we all like Blake, right? Some of us like Blake a lot more than we like you." She winked at Blake. "So let's just save the fighting for the arena, yeah? Or at least until I've had my second coffee of the morning." She grinned. "Especially since Old Blakey might have a point? If you want to take the Schnee heiress down a peg — and I know that Flynt would be one hundred percent on board with that—"
"One hundred and ten percent," Flynt Coal said. He was a tall young man, with dark skin that was nevertheless a little lighter than Ciel's, who kept his hair hidden beneath his grey fedora. "But just because I don't like her doesn't mean that she should be taken lightly; that was a good fight she had yesterday; she's no pushover."
Sabine hesitated for a moment, before she let out a sigh. "Fine, fine, I get it. But have some faith in us, why don't you? Seriously. Ugh."
"You want some help after we're done helping Trixie and Starlight plan their way to victory?" asked Neon. "Flynt has enough brainpower for that, even if I don't. In fact, weren't you thinking about ways that you could take her out before the tournament started in case we got drawn against her?"
"Yeah, but they mainly relied on my semblance," Flynt said. "I don't know if Sabine or Team Sabre could do much with them."
"We can see for ourselves if you tell us about them," said Sabine.
"After us," Starlight said.
"And after Blake has gotten something to eat," Twilight reminded everyone.
Blake chuckled. "Yes, if no one has any objections."
"We'll be here when you get back," said Sunburst.
"I'll come with you," Neon declared, stretching both her arms above her head. "I could use a little more myself." She climbed over the table, jumping over Ciel's head to land on the floor behind her, giving her a pat upon the beret as she landed. "Come on, Blake."
"Um, right," Blake said, getting up from her seat and following Neon across the dining hall — although she hardly needed showing the way — to where the various breakfast options, hot and cold, were on display.
Neon went to the coffee machine, grabbing a plain white cup from the cupboard and putting it under the metallic nozzle. The machine began to whirr and grind as Neon pushed the button to select a black Atlesiano.
"On the one hand," she said, "I'm sorry about Sabine spitting at you like that; she had no right. You're right: you're not your mom, you're not your dad, you're one of us. You're soon to be one of us, anyway, and you were trying to help. But don't worry about Team Sabre too much; they're just…"
Blake waited a moment for her to finish. "They're just what?"
"Angry," Neon said. "Their hearts are in the right place, but they're angry. And they're angry at people who aren't angry."
"Like my parents."
"Like you, maybe," Neon added. "And Dashie too. They got into it with her last night, when she asked them to … maybe not take their feelings out on Weiss." The coffee machine went quiet, and Neon pulled her cup out from under the machine and immediately took a swig of the black, bitter-looking coffee.
She sighed contentedly. "Yep, I need this."
"It sounds like your team leader could do with being told that as well," Blake pointed out.
Neon took another sip from her coffee. "Look," she said, "something you're going to understand if you're going to be one of us is that, strange as it may seem, the Schnee family is not universally popular in Atlas. It acts like it is, and I guess that Atlas itself acts like it is. But it isn't."
"Why not?" Blake asked. "I mean, I can understand why faunus like Team Sabre might resent the SDC, but Flynt—"
"Nobody gets to be as rich as Jacques Schnee without stepping on some people to get there, and it isn't just faunus," Neon told her. "Flynt's dad used to own a dust shop in Mantle, until the SDC stopped selling to retailers so that everyone would have to buy from the SDC directly. Drove his old man out of business."
"That's … unfortunate," Blake said. "Immoral, even. But that's not Weiss' fault."
"No," Neon admitted. "But Flynt can't hurt Jacques Schnee, and neither can Sabine or the rest of Team Sabre." She smiled. "But it's only a tournament fight, right? It's not like they're going to lurk down a dark alleyway and attack the little princess meaning to do her any harm? They're angry, but they're not the White Fang. I mean, when you think about it, isn't this a pretty good and harmless way of settling grudges? Like those Mistralian duels."
"I … suppose, maybe," Blake murmured.
It had, after all, worked for Sunset and Pyrrha; they had fought a duel to clear up the antagonism between them, and now, they were best friends, able to rely on one another absolutely. It didn't make a lot of sense, but there seemed to be some … not magic, that seemed the wrong word to use with how much she knew about real magic, but some alchemy that made it work, in certain circumstances anyway.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked.
"Because you can be a bit of a self-righteous nagging scold sometimes," Neon said. "I say this with lots of love, of course."
"Of course," Blake muttered dryly.
"And I would hate for you to get up on your high horse for no reason," Neon went on. "Because, you know, not everyone would be as tolerant of that as me."
"Mmmhmm, thanks a lot," Blake said.
Neon grinned. "You're welcome!"
Blake grabbed some breakfast — pancakes, with berries to cover them — and then, Neon having secured for herself a bacon muffin, they returned to the table, where everyone was still waiting for them.
"So," Blake said as she sat down, very carefully not meeting the eyes of any member of Team SABR, "what's the plan?"
Trixie had four salt and pepper shakers — two salt, two pepper — sitting on the table in front of her, and at Blake's words, she started to push them across the table, separating the salt from the pepper.
"Sunset Shimmer and Pyrrha Nikos," she said, indicating the two salt shakers. She gestured next at the two pepper shakers. "Starlight Glimmer and the Grrrreat and Powerrrrful—"
"We know," Sabine grumbled.
"Trrrrrixie!" Trixie finished as though Sabine hadn't said anything. "Now, Sunset can fight up close, but she's more of a medium-range fighter; Pyrrha Nikos, of course, excels in close quarters."
"She can shoot," Blake pointed out.
"Sure, but given the choice, it seems like she prefers to close in with sword or spear," Starlight said. "Especially since I don't think she has many rounds in that rifle of hers."
"It's five," Rainbow said. "At least, I think it is."
Blake hesitated. It's only a tournament. Only a play-fight, after all. "That's right," she said. "She has five rounds in there."
Starlight nodded. "Like I said, close quarters."
"So you're going to try and keep your distance and fight at range?" Twilight asked.
"Would that work?" responded Starlight. "Pyrrha's fast, and Sunset can teleport; if they want to close the distance, there isn't a lot we can do about it."
"And besides," Sunburst said, "Starlight's no slouch up close herself."
Blake's eyebrows rose. "You're going to go close combat against Pyrrha?"
"If she wants a fight, then we'll give her one," Trixie declared. "Starlight will engage Pyrrha, while Trrrrrrixie deals with Sunset. Trrrrixie is something of a medium-range fighter herself, after all. Whichever of us defeats our opponent first will go to the aid of the other."
Blake was silent for a moment. As a skeleton, it wasn't a bad idea: matching up their specialities against their opponents, provided that they got more out of that than they would out of trying to support one another. Of course, if they did that, then Sunset and Pyrrha would be trying to support one another as well — especially since … Blake had a feeling that Sunset's inclination might be to let Pyrrha shine on this one, to please Pyrrha's mother and play to her standing with the crowd. She wouldn't let Pyrrha fight alone, of course, but at the same time, if Sunset could step back, she probably would.
From a wholly disinterested perspective, it might be interesting to see the two of them fight together. It's not something that ever happened when I was with them.
Not in the sense of real, supporting one another togetherness, at least, as opposed to just being in the same battle.
But, from an Atlesian perspective, from the perspective of wanting Trixie and Starlight to win…
Blake wasn't entirely sure that she did, but she understood Rainbow's point that she had to act as though she did, just to show willing.
From a perspective of wanting Trixie and Starlight to win … is splitting up, even to split their opponents, the best move for them?
"Sunset and Pyrrha," Blake said softly, "have never fought … as a pair before. If your teamwork is good, you might find that splitting them up for one-on-one fights advantages them more than you."
"But if you're right," Rainbow said, "then their instinct is going to be to split Trixie and Starlight off for a pair of one on one duels, so it would be best to prepare for that."
"Not necessarily," Blake replied. "Sunset is very invested in Pyrrha's performance in the tournament, more than in her own ego—"
"If she was not invested somewhat in her own ego, then she could have sent Jaune through to the second round," Ciel pointed out.
"Well … yes, you have a point there, I suppose," Blake murmured. Put like that, the idea that Sunset would try and engineer a situation where Pyrrha took out both Starlight and Trixie began to look a lot less plausible. After all, why go through to the second round if she did not hope for at least some glory in her own right?
And besides, thinking about it, while Sunset was most effective at medium range, she'd demonstrated repeatedly that she was willing to try just about anything in a good cause, even engaging up close with enemies who were stronger than she was. There was no way that she would simply be content to hang back and engage at medium range if that meant allowing Starlight and Trixie to combine their efforts against Pyrrha, certainly not if that looked to be causing Pyrrha any sort of real difficulties.
"But do you think you can take them?" she asked. "One on one?"
Starlight's lip curled upwards. "That's what we'll find out in the arena, isn't it? I know her reputation, and I've seen her fight, but I'm not so bad myself. So we'll see how it goes."
"It would go better if you had a good semblance," Sunburst said. "Something that would maybe give you an edge on Pyrrha in combat. Something that she wouldn't see coming."
"An excellent idea, Sunburst," Trixie said, looking around the table. "Flynt, with your ability to copy yourself—"
"Now, hang on a second," Flynt said, raising one hand. "I mean … I'm rooting for you and all, I want to see Atlas do well, but … it's my semblance." He looked away, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over his face.
Rainbow frowned. "Ciel, with your precognition, Starlight could see Pyrrha's moves before she makes them, give her a chance to respond to them."
Ciel also looked away, unable to meet the eyes of either Starlight or Trixie. "I would rather not," she said softly.
"Starlight's only going to copy it, not cut it!" Trixie said, her voice rising even as Trixie herself surged to her feet.
"Trixie," Starlight murmured. "It's okay—"
"No, Starlight, it is not okay!" Trixie yelled. "I am sick and tired of you getting treated this way, and by Atlas students no less! We're supposed to be a band of brothers!" She put one hand on her hip as she glared around the table. Flynt, Ciel, even Neon shrank away from her accusing gaze. "We're supposed to stand shoulder to shoulder. Or is that only some words to be said when it's convenient, huh?"
"You can have my speed," Rainbow said. "Bull rush her the moment the fight starts and—"
"No," Blake said, laying her hand out on the table. "Take my clones. You can dodge the hits, and if you use dust in conjunction with the clones — if you can work out how to do that — then you might even be able to use the clones to damage Pyrrha, or trap her."
There was a moment of silence around the table.
Starlight smiled. It was a soft smile, close-mouthed, but a smile nonetheless. "Thanks Blake. I appreciate that. You too, Dash."
Trixie inclined her head in Blake's direction. "A true Atlesian indeed."
Blake scoffed. "I don't know about that. A kind person, maybe."
"So … which is it going to be?" Twilight asked. "Rainbow's speed or Blake's clones? Or… you know, if you hang around, I'm sure that Applejack would let you copy her super strength."
"I'm sure she would," Starlight agreed. "But, having seen Blake's semblance in action—" She started to move her hand towards Blake's open palm. "Are you sure about this?"
Blake smiled. "It's a use of your semblance, not invasive surgery."
Starlight placed her hand on top of Blake's. Starlight's hand rippled with an opal light, just as Blake felt a little pinch on her palm, an ever-so-slight reduction of her aura.
Is that it?
"Thanks again," Starlight said, taking her hand away. She held it up in front of her, as though the secrets of Blake's semblance could be found written on her palm. "Wow, you're pretty versatile, aren't you?"
"It's one of the most versatile semblances I've ever seen," Sunburst said. "I'd say … second most versatile, after the Schnee semblance."
"You … you really think so?" asked Blake.
"How many other people do you know that can modify their semblances with dust?" Sunburst asked. "Sunset Shimmer's got a pretty versatile semblance, I suppose, but … I have a hard time getting a read on that."
The eyes of all the students at the Atlas table turned towards the entrance to the dining hall as Lycus Silvermane, Thorn Hubert, and Mal Sapphire of Team PSTL strode in.
XxXxX
"Where's Blake going?" Ruby asked as they watched Blake get steered away by Rainbow Dash to sit amongst the Atlesians.
"She's showing solidarity with Atlas," Sunset replied. "She's showing that she's rooting for Trixie and Starlight to beat us." She bit into her blueberry muffin, chewing upon the crumbly, slightly dry cake for a second or two. "Like that's going to happen."
"Let's not get overconfident," Pyrrha murmured.
"You seem quite sure that's why Blake is going over there," Jaune pointed out.
"I lived in Atlas long enough to understand how their minds work," Sunset replied.
"I lived there too, and I still don't understand how their minds work," Penny said.
Sunset snorted. "And you don't want to, Penny; it's very dull."
"Rather a generalisation, wouldn't you say?" asked Weiss.
"There are exceptions to every rule," Sunset said blithely.
"Hey, guys," Yang said as she led Ren and Nora over to the table presently being occupied by SAPR, their friends, and WWSR. "As you can see, we lost Blake on the way."
"Sunset says she's showing solidarity against us," Ruby explained.
Yang frowned. "That's … okay, that makes sense, but it also seems really rude."
"Considering that they have supported us stalwartly in real battle, one can hardly take too much umbrage when they wish for a team from their own school to win the tournament match," Pyrrha said.
"But isn't part of the point of the Vytal Festival to be bigger than school ties?" asked Amber. "To not pit different schools against one another?"
"Competition will always pit people against one another; otherwise, it wouldn't be competitive," Sunset said. "And if they didn't want the different schools to feel like they were in competition, they shouldn't make an issue out of which schools the different teams come from; they just have a free selection of thirty two teams, regardless of what school they're from."
"But then some schools might not be well represented," Ruby pointed out.
"Exactly, which is why it won't happen," said Sunset. "But Pyrrha's right; it's not a big deal. We've made friends with teams from Atlas, from Mistral … well, we've made friends with a member of a team from Mistral, anyway, but the point is that we've all lived up to the spirit of the Vytal Festival … most of the time."
"You two are the first up today, huh?" Yang said. She grinned. "Nervous?"
"No," Sunset said at once. "What have we…?" She trailed off. "No, I don't want to insult them — they're actually pretty good — but all the same, we've nothing to be nervous about."
Yang looked over her shoulder. "Is the whole of Atlas Academy helping them plan out their strategy or something?"
There's a joke to be made there, but I shall refrain and be the bigger person, Sunset thought.
"There's no rule against seeking help from others," Dove observed.
"Rainbow helped us plan out our strategy against Team Pastel," Ruby pointed out. "I wonder what's changed that it's so important that they all be on the right side against Sunset and Pyrrha."
"Perhaps they just didn't like Team Pastel?" Lyra suggested. "Everyone likes Trixie and … everyone likes Trixie."
"Do they?" Weiss asked softly. "No offence, but she strikes me as being a little bit of a…"
"Blowhard?" Flash asked.
Weiss hesitated for a moment. "Yes," she murmured. "That word fits well enough."
"Well … you're not entirely wrong," Flash admitted. "But in a strange way, that's part of her charm. If she wasn't going around calling herself Great and Powerful and referring to herself in the third person, then she wouldn't be Trixie."
"Fair enough, but I fail to see how that makes her more likeable," Weiss said, "or even more bearable."
"Her magic show is a lot of fun," Lyra pointed out. "So that helps. Not to mention that she's got a great singing voice."
"And she's got it when it counts," Flash added. "Not singing, I mean; I'm talking about … she'll have your back when it matters. She may not always act like it, but she's someone to have by your side."
"She even had Sunset's back a little while ago," Ruby said. "Didn't she?"
Weiss looked at Sunset. "Really?"
"When was that?"
"Oh … a little while ago," Sunset replied. "I was…"
"Is that when you bailed and nobody knew where you were?" Yang asked. "When Ozpin sent you on that solo mission?"
"It wasn't quite a solo mission," Sunset replied. "Trixie and Starlight were with me."
"'Solo mission'?" Russel repeated. "Is that a thing?"
"Ozpin sent you out to fight by yourself?" Amber asked. "That sounds—"
"Worse than it really was, trust me," Sunset said. "The point is," she went on, keen to divert attention, or get things back on topic, depending on how you wanted to look at it, "that I've seen a little bit of Trixie and Starlight in action."
"I don't like Starlight's semblance," Ruby muttered.
Sunset glanced at her. "It's just a semblance."
"Nobody should have the power to affect other people's semblances," Ruby insisted.
"I can affect other people's semblances," pointed out Penny, plaintively.
"That … that's not the same thing, Penny," Ruby said quickly. "Your semblance … it lets you free yourself from what others are trying to do to you with their semblances, but it doesn't stop those people from using their semblances in the first place. Starlight can stop people from using their own semblances, steal them for herself; nobody should have that kind of power. If semblances are the reflection of our souls, then what does a semblance like that say about her soul?"
"If that's the case, then what does my semblance say about me?" Yang asked. "If you ask me, all that reflection of the soul stuff is just a bunch of … it's old religious nonsense from the days when people believed there was a man in the sky causing thunderstorms. Our semblances are just random; they don't say anything about us; we just have to learn how to make the best of them, just like Starlight has."
"Some would agree," Ren murmured, leaving the fact that others might not agree to be merely implicit.
"I've not seen anything malicious about Starlight," Sunset said quietly, although as she said it, she couldn't help but think about what Princess Twilight had told her, about the Starlight of Equestria who had tried to erase the Elements of Harmony from history.
But then, she repented and became Princess Twilight's very own apprentice. Like as not, she will be Princess Starlight soon enough, and an alicorn — at least then, her power won't seem to be too great for a mere unicorn.
The point being that, in my world, although she may have gotten off to a rough start, she has turned out to have a good heart in the end, as judged by Princess Twilight and Princess Celestia. Who is to say that in Remnant, she didn't simply skip the rough start and have a good heart all along?
Though there is no princess to judge her here, there are many who have a great respect for her, whose opinions I also respect after a fashion.
Not least of which being my own opinion.
The people here share names with folk who live on the other side of the mirror, but they are not mere mirror images; Starlight is not fated to walk the same path as her other self who shares her name.
"I have seen no malice in her," Sunset repeated. "She is … stalwart, and so is Trixie when it comes down to it … just as Flash says. I don't underestimate them." She grinned. "Of course, we're going to beat them, all the same."
"Does that mean you have a plan?"
Sunset shrugged her shoulders somewhat. "A plan? Last time, when we — I — tried to get inside the heads of her opponent, I got it wrong."
"It sounds as though you know Starlight and Trixie a little better than you knew Team Pastel though, right?"
"Perhaps," Sunset conceded. "I think … I think…"
What do I think?
What are you going to do, you two?
"I think," Sunset said, "that perhaps we should think less of what Starlight and Trixie will do and more of what we will do: together, they are a formidable team, but if I distract Trixie, then Starlight will be no match for you in combat. Defeat her, and Trixie will fall before our combined might."
"Assuming you haven't beaten her already yourself," Pyrrha replied.
"I'll certainly try my best," Sunset said, "but by setting low expectations, I protect myself against accusations of underperformance if things don't go entirely my way." She smirked. "But in all seriousness…" In all seriousness, Trixie bested Evenfall Gleaming, one of the strongest unicorns of ancient times. A unicorn far stronger than myself, possessed as she was with the power not only of unicorns but of pegasi and earth ponies too.
The memory made Sunset think of the bag beneath her bed, of Evenfall's dark regalia stored in a sack, unused and little thought of. Sunset had, in fact, thought of giving them to Amber, to better arm her against the threat of Salem's minions. She had not done so partly because she wasn't sure that it would actually be possible for Amber to harness Equestrian magic, not having been born a pony — although, against that, it had to be admitted that Evenfall had not been born a pegasus or an earth pony but had taken to their magics just fine — partly because even if Amber could use the powers in theory, where she would be going, there wouldn't be anyone around to teach her how to use them properly, and partly … partly because Sunset was concerned about the side effects. Yes, Evenfall had hardly been a model of gentleness and moderation before she had fashioned her dark regalia, according to Princess Celestia's account, but all the same … nothing would come for nothing, as far as dark magic was concerned. It promised power greater than birth or station had imbued one with, but in return … in return, it would make use of any who sought to make use of it.
She did not want that for Amber. It was not something she would gift to her for the sake of a greater security that was, not to put too fine a point on it, somewhat dubious in the circumstances.
And in any case, all that was little to do with the matter at hand.
"In all seriousness," Sunset repeated, "I do not underestimate her. They might try and stick together for greater protection, but Pyrrha and I should be able to outmanoeuvre them. That's the basis of it, anyway." She looked from Yang to Weiss and back again. "What about you two? How are you feeling about today's fights?"
"It seems," Weiss began, only to pause for a moment. She looked at Flash. "It seems, if Rainbow Dash is to be believed — and I don't see why not — that we should expect some hostility from our opponents."
"Because—" Flash began.
"Yes," Weiss said, in a brittle voice like thin ice cracking as people walked upon it. "Because of the recently exposed activities of the company which shares my name."
"It's so stupid how people can't see past things like your name," Ruby declared. "As though that had anything to do with you. It's no better than the way people look at the faunus."
"Names have power," Pyrrha said softly. "Over us, and over others as well. That cannot be escaped, no matter how much we might want it to."
"I'm not sure I would," Weiss replied. "I … my name is not the whole of me, but it is part of me nevertheless. A part that, though I do not own the whole of my name and its attendant reputation, is nevertheless fused inseparably from my own. Take away Schnee, and … and you tear up Weiss as well. Without my name, and all that my name means, I would not be myself. Though it brings me some hostility, that struggle, too, is mine to bear, mine to fight against, mine to overcome. I would not give it up, nor trade it away for all the wealth in Remnant."
"Is that not because you already have all the wealth in Remnant?" Sunset asked.
Weiss snorted. "Well … perhaps I could have made a better choice of words there."
"It's because sometimes our pain is what makes us stronger," Ruby said. "It gives us a reason to keep moving forward."
Cinder would have something to say about that, if she could hear it, Sunset thought. Instead of saying that, though, she asked, "Did anyone watch Team Sabre's fight yesterday?"
"No," Flash admitted. "That seems like an oversight now."
"I didn't," Yang added.
"Me neither," said Nora.
"Nor I," Weiss said quietly. "We are … somewhat in the dark."
"Don't worry about it too much," Yang said. "Nora and me are just the same; we didn't bother to watch Team Ball yesterday either."
"You face two of the children of Titus Andronicus, a Mistralian huntsman of great renown in his day," Pyrrha said. "In fact, the family itself has — or had — great repute."
"Oh, well, Pyrrha can come to our rescue, at least," Yang said, with a slight grin. "Bad luck, Weiss."
Weiss made a wordless muttering noise that could have meant many things.
"Are they a noble family?" asked Jaune.
"Not noble, no," Pyrrha replied. "A middle-ranking family, not unknown before Titus, but of no great antiquity either." She paused. "It is a rather sad story. Titus Andronicus was one of the greatest huntsmen of his day, a slayer of grimm, a champion of justice; wherever he went, it was said, darkness retreated from him. But of his twenty-five sons—"
"'Twenty-five'?" Jaune exclaimed. "Twenty … he had twenty-five kids?"
"Twenty-six children," Pyrrha corrected him. "Twenty-five sons and one daughter."
Jaune stared at her, eyes so wide that they might have been about to pop out of his head. "Twenty-six … and I thought my mom was heroic."
"Sounds like a regular clan of heroes," Yang said.
"Assuming that they all became huntsmen," Penny said. "They might not have. They might have wanted to be … something else. Anything else."
"But they did not, and therein lies the sadness of it," Pyrrha said. "Twenty-five sons, and twenty-one of them have perished in the field, against grimm or bandits. Little has been heard of Titus Andronicus these recent years. Some say that grief has maddened him, others that he broods upon it; either way, he does not stir abroad."
A moment of silence followed her words; it dropped upon the table like … like the shroud of one of the dead sons of Titus Andronicus.
Twenty-one sons, dead. Twenty-one, and not in some old story, no, this had happened … in the last few years, within their lifetimes. These were people who had been living when they were living, but now drew breath no more.
Twenty-one sons, that … well, that was very bad luck indeed for their father, but also … that could not be normal, could it? It could not be normal for so many huntsmen to die?
Or was it so, and they simply hadn't realised it?
Twenty-one sons, dead. Well might their father go mad with grief. Fewer losses might be the undoing of Lady Nikos; a single daughter's death might make Lady Belladonna weep.
Sunset looked — surreptitiously, she hoped — around the table. No one here had twenty-one siblings, still less twenty-five, that such great losses might be borne by their parents with anything approaching equanimity. And yet, at such a rate of loss…
How many of us will die, and how swiftly?
I will not allow it.
Have I power to prevent it?
Sunset felt her hands clench into fists — and then she felt two hands around her right, clenched fist.
Amber's hands.
Amber smiled as she looked into Sunset's eyes. "It will be alright," she said, giving Sunset's hands a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "It will all be alright. That is not the fate that awaits you."
How can you be so certain? Sunset wanted to ask, but the words stuck in her throat. They stuck in her throat, and then dissolved because, as she looked back into Amber's eyes, it was clear that the answer was because Amber was a Maiden, and it was a Maiden's part to bring hope, just as they had brought hope to the old man, the wizard, back in ancient times.
Sunset could feel Amber's hands through her gloves, she could feel the warmth of them, a warmth that was spreading down her arm and across her body, rippling out to warm the whole of her and melt away all the ice of fear.
Amber was right; that need not be their fate. It would not. She would not stand for — would not permit — so empty a table.
It would be alright. She would not suffer such ill-fortune.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Amber nodded. "Although," she said, "after losing so many of their brothers, I'm surprised that the two siblings that Yang and Nora will be fighting still want to be huntsmen."
"It's because they're brave, and they understand what's at stake," Ruby said, "and I guess that it's a way of honouring their fallen brothers, too."
Yang sighed. "I gotta say, Pyrrha, I wish you hadn't told us all that. It makes it a little harder to beat them."
"I'm sure that neither of them would wish for pity, or for you to give anything less than your best," said Pyrrha.
"Oh, yeah, I'm sure not," Yang agreed. "Do you know anything about how they fight? Did you ever come up against either of them in a tournament?"
"No," Pyrrha said, with a shake of her head, "the Andronici are true huntsmen; they have never been involved with the tournament circuit. Nevertheless, I believe that they favour traditional weapons."
"You mean no transformations?" asked Nora.
"I mean that, as I understand it, the family mainly use — or used — ancestral weapons, passed down to them by their predecessors."
"Well, that's not good," Ruby said. "For them, I mean. If you don't have a weapon that's yours, that's made for you, that's a part of you, then … how are you going to use it properly?"
"I…" Jaune trailed off. "Think you make a good point."
"I use Soteria reasonably enough," Sunset pointed out.
"Eeh, you're not that great with it, are you?" Ruby replied. "You're not on the same level as Blake or Weiss."
"Well, okay," Sunset conceded. "But all the same—"
"PYRRHA NIKOS!"
All eyes turned towards the entrance to the dining hall as three members of Team PSTL strode in. Phoebe wasn't with them, and at the head of the trio stood Lycus Silvermane, dressed for battle, muscles bulging.
A group of Atlas students, none of whom Sunset could put names to, followed after him. Thorn and Mal both had hands upon his arms, but he shrugged them both off as his eyes swept over the cafeteria.
It didn't take him long to catch sight of Pyrrha.
"PYRRHA NIKOS!" he roared again, like a bull in the field beholding a rival. He marched towards her, devouring the distance beneath his quick strides. His footsteps upon the floor were heavy as the beating of a drum. "GET UP!"
Pyrrha rose slowly to her feet. Sunset got up as well, more quickly than Pyrrha; Jaune rose also, while Yang and Ruby both rested their hands upon the table so that they could get up if they had to. Amber shrank into Dove's shoulder.
All eyes, not just on their table but on other tables also, were fixed on Lycus as he, heedless of the comrades who sought to restrain him or of the other students who trailed after him, bored down upon them.
Sunset barred his way to Pyrrha, saying nothing but letting the stern look upon her face speak for her. She didn't know what he wanted, but you didn't march into a room bellowing somebody's name if you wanted a nice cosy chat, so no, he wasn't getting too close to Pyrrha.
Lycus looked down on her, baring his teeth at her. "You," he snarled.
"Good morning," Sunset said. "Can we help you?"
Lycus breathed in and out heavily, his chest rising and falling, his exhalations forcing their way out between his gritted teeth. His gaze, as sharp as the sickles that he wielded in battle, flickered like swift slashing strokes between Sunset and Pyrrha.
"Why?" he demanded. "Why did you do it?"
"Do what?" Pyrrha asked softly.
Lycus' face twitched with irritation. "Don't act like you don't know!"
"Lycus," Mal murmured. "They probably don't; why would they—?"
"They must know!" Lycus snapped at her. "Who else would … who else would want to … it wasn't enough for you to humiliate her, you had to kill her too?"
"'Kill her'?" Jaune repeated. "Kill—"
"Phoebe?" Pyrrha whispered. "Phoebe is—?"
"She's dead!" Lycus yelled, in a voice that struck the high ceiling of the dining hall. "Phoebe is dead! Murdered!"
Sunset's eyes widened in spite of herself. Phoebe … Phoebe was dead? Phoebe had been murdered?
Cinder.
Sunset had no proof. She didn't know how Phoebe had been killed, or when, or where, but she almost didn't have to. She knew in her bones, in her soul, that Cinder had been the one to do this. Who else would? Pyrrha would not stoop so low; why would she? She had won the fight, and anyway, it wasn't in her nature.
I would not stoop so low either, not even when my back was more flexible than it is now.
But Cinder…
Cinder had the motive, without doubt. If anyone deserved to kill Phoebe Kommenos, it was Cinder, the stepsister she had abused and humiliated. Such had been what Phoebe had done to Cinder that it was very hard to weep for her. Sunset was more concerned about how Cinder had done this. It was hardly likely that Phoebe had ventured beyond Vale, which meant that Cinder must have come to her, at least in some fashion.
"Where?" she demanded. "When?"
"As if you don't know," Lycus spat.
"We do not," Pyrrha said, beginning to walk around Sunset to get closer to Lycus. "We knew nothing of this until you arrived, I swear it by sea and sky and on my sacred honour."
Lycus' face twitched again. "Your honour?" he repeated. "Your honour?"
"We have witnesses that will put us here all night," Sunset added.
"Of course you do," Lycus snarled, his lips curling into a sneer. "Your friends will alibi you."
"So we are killers, and they are liars?" Sunset demanded. "What grounds do you have for any of this?"
"I think that many of us would like to know that," the voice that spoke was a smooth one, belonging to Medea of Team JAMM as she drifted over in their direction. Nor was she alone; just as several Atlesian students had followed in Lycus' train, so did Medea bring with her a coterie of Haven students, not only her own teammates, but Team ABRN too, and Sun, Neptune, and others besides.
"That is a serious accusation to shout where so many ears can hear," Medea went on, raising her own voice somewhat so that it carried across the dining hall, "serious when made against anyone, but especially serious when directed against a former Champion of Mistral. Such accusations should be brought before the magistrate, with witnesses and evidence … unless your purpose is to provoke a duel in defence of insulted honour?"
"It's really not," Mal said quickly. "He's just…"
"Please, forgive him," Thorn added. "We just found out that our team leader was dead, and Lycus is—"
"I don't need the two of you to talk for me!" Lycus yelled, tossing his head as he once again cast off their arms. "I need…" He bowed his head, and his white mane falling over his face, and his next words were half-choked as if by a sob. "I need justice."
"And I pray you find it," Pyrrha said softly, "but you will not find it here, not with us. I promise you." She paused, and when Sunset glanced at her, she saw that Pyrrha was looking down anxiously. She reached out and put her hand in Jaune's, letting his fingers close around her. With her other hand, she played with her sash. "I…" she began, but then stopped and trailed off once again. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them again, Sunset could see nought but misery upon her face, her mouth set downwards.
"I…" she began, but then trailed off again. "I know that Phoebe and I … instead of what happened at the end of the match yesterday, I prefer to remember that she came to me on the eve of my duel with Cinder and … offered to let all be bygones between us. She kissed my cheeks and offered me her hand in friendship. That … that is the Phoebe that I prefer to remember."
A Phoebe that never really existed? A Phoebe who was lying? A Phoebe who was secretly rejoicing because she thought that you might die?
A Phoebe who is of more use in this situation than the real one.
Sunset had hated Phoebe's visit to Pyrrha, had hated the whole circus surrounding it, all those insincere people beating a path of Pyrrha's door to do the ritual thing, the expected thing, the thing that would make them look good, that would make them esteemed in the eyes of their peers. She had hated all of it, the insincerity, the performativity of it, the fact that they didn't really care whether or not Pyrrha lived or died — that some of them, like Phoebe, were actively hoping for Pyrrha's death.
Now, Pyrrha was playing the same game. Did the fact that she clearly wasn't enjoying it make it any less insincere?
No, but it was perhaps more understandable in the circumstances.
"You have my condolences," Pyrrha said, to the members of Team PSTL. "If there is anything that I can do for you … please, you have but to ask. I am at your service."
"We are all at your service, within the bounds of good conduct," Medea added. "Let us all remember gentle Phoebe, to each of us the soul of courtesy while she lived."
Butter wouldn't melt in your mouth, would it? Sunset thought.
"Th-thank you," Mal murmured. "We are … thank you."
Lycus did not reply. He stood with his head bowed, his body trembling.
"I … she …" he began. "My lady."
Jaune's brow furrowed a little. "You—"
"I spoke out of turn; I was angry," Lycus declared, his voice hoarse. "I shouldn't have … I'm sorry, I just … forgive me."
"Of course," Pyrrha said. "No … of course."
Lycus didn't look up. He remained where he was, head down, face concealed beneath his hair. Then he turned away and strode away as swiftly, and almost as violently, as he had come, forcing the Atlas students to scramble aside lest he trample them down beneath his booted feet.
Thorn followed after him, but Mal hesitated for a moment. "It was … they told us it was in Vale, last night. During the carnival." She, too, hurried after Lycus.
Sunset turned her back on him, looking towards Pyrrha.
Pyrrha looked at her, and Sunset could see her thoughts mirrored in the gravity of Pyrrha's expression.
Cinder. Cinder in Vale.
Sunset and Pyrrha both looked towards Amber.
Amber swallowed. "What … what is it? Why are you both looking at me like that?"
Professor Ozpin needs to know. He needs to know that Cinder is at large in Vale, or was last night, at least. He needs to know … even if that means that he must know why Cinder would be so eager to strike down Phoebe Kommenos.
I'm sorry, Cinder, I really am, but you leave me no choice.
With you in Vale … I have prized your confidence above much, but I cannot prize it above Amber's safety.
I am sorry.
You brought this on yourself.
The fact that that was undoubtedly true didn't actually make Sunset feel any better, but at the same time, she had had far worse things to feel worse about lately.
"Excuse me," she said as she started to walk out of the cafeteria.
"What's she going to speak to Professor Ozpin about?" Amber asked as Sunset walked away from them, out the dining hall and into the courtyard beyond.
Pyrrha was almost certain that she knew, although Sunset hadn't told her so: she was going to tell Professor Ozpin that it was Cinder who had murdered Phoebe Kommenos.
That was Pyrrha's thought, and she would be astonished if it were not Sunset's thought as well; she had seen it in Sunset's eyes, the knowledge, the certainty.
After all, whatever enemies Phoebe might have made in the arena, they were far less likely to have murdered her than the murderous stepsister whom she had … well, Pyrrha wasn't entirely sure what Phoebe had done to Cinder, but Sunset had certainly implied that it was bad, perhaps even bad enough to drive Cinder to villainy, and Sunset, with her semblance, ought to know.
They both, it seemed, suspected Cinder, and once Professor Ozpin knew the truth about her, knew where she came from, then he would likely suspect her too, and then…
Well, Pyrrha was not sure about the what then, but the now was quite worrying enough. That Cinder had been able to get into Vale, although she was wanted, hunted, although her name and face had been distributed to every police precinct, although everyone knew that she was responsible for the Breach, an enemy of Vale, an enemy of mankind … yet still, she managed to reach into the heart of Vale and strike down Phoebe.
Phoebe.
Pyrrha … Pyrrha found herself … regretting Phoebe's death. They had not been friends, and despite what she had pretended, despite what she had been forced almost by necessity to pretend in front of Lycus and the others, there had never been a true reconciliation between them. She had not liked Phoebe, not ever, and according to the ancient customs of Mistral, it might well be said that she had given Cinder cause and more to take her life, but all the same, Pyrrha found there was a regretful feeling in her heart. A sickly feeling, that felt as though it might overturn her stomach.
A life snuffed out, and a great Mistralian house too. Phoebe's ancestors had fought on both sides of the Battle of Four Sovereigns, they had carried Soteria into battle for the House of Nikos on many occasions through many generations; an ancestor of hers had been the first over the wall during the storming of Thebes, another had been the first to land upon the shores of Kaledonia. The Kommenos family had been retainers of the House of Nikos when the Thracian lords had been kings of their own realm and rivals for the throne of Anima. Phoebe had come from a line as old as any in Mistral, older than most, and old in honour too; and now, that line was ended, with her life.
Cinder had not only killed a person, which would have been bad enough, but she had struck down a part of Mistral's history, too.
She felt a hand upon her shoulder: Jaune's hand. His face was solemn, not sad as Pyrrha felt, but solemn-looking in respect of the occasion nonetheless. He did not say anything; he neither asked if she was alright nor sought to make her feel better. But his hand was upon her shoulder, and that was not nothing to her.
Pyrrha thanked him with her gaze as she raised her right hand and placed it gently atop his.
"She was their opponent in the fight yesterday," Nora explained.
"And they'd fought each other before, in the arena in Mistral," Ruby added.
"All the same, I'm a little surprised that you look so glum about it," Arslan said. As the other Haven students began to drift back to their seats and tables, Arslan took the seat so recently vacated by Sunset. "Unless you really did make up before your duel."
Pyrrha didn't say that she had not, and surely, Arslan could not expect her to; instead, she said, "A woman is dead, and an old Mistralian family is ended; should I not regret these things?"
"'An old Mistralian family,'" Arslan repeated. "P— Pyrrha, I know that that is your world and all, but having had to sit through one term of the history of our old families already, I have to say, in the nicest possible way, if you people have inherited the virtue of your noble ancestors, then how do you explain Phoebe?"
"Arslan, she is dead," Pyrrha replied, a touch of reproach entering her tone. "Might we not—?"
"Lie about her?"
"Show some respect," Pyrrha corrected.
"No," Arslan said bluntly. "I didn't like her, and I'm not going to pretend that I did just because she's not around anymore. Didn't it stick in your throat having to say that?"
"It would have troubled me more if Lycus had continued to accuse me of the crime," Pyrrha pointed out.
Arslan frowned. "Well, that's a point, I suppose."
"He seemed very upset," Amber murmured.
"He was her teammate," Ruby said.
Jaune shook his head. "No, it was more than that," he said. "He loved her."
Pyrrha looked at him. "Love? Loved Phoebe?"
"Are you sure about that?" Arslan asked.
Jaune nodded. "I'm sure. I'm positive."
"I agree," Dove added. "For what it's worth, I think Jaune's on the money. It's the way that he sounded, right?"
"The … anguish in his voice, yeah," Jaune agreed. "And the anger, too, the frustration. He didn't sound or act like someone who'd just lost a friend, or at least, I don't think he did. I think … I think there was more there."
Dove nodded in agreement.
The corners of Yang's mouth turned up a little. "Well, you two ought to know, I guess."
Nora looked at Jaune, and then at Dove. "What do you think, Ren?" she asked.
Ren shrugged. "They could be right," he said. "He was clearly attached to her, but some friendships can be very strong, and the emotions when those bonds shatter can be equally powerful."
"Mmm, yeah, I guess," Nora muttered.
Pyrrha's brow furrowed beneath her circlet. "But … I'm not aware of Phoebe dating anyone, were you, Arslan?"
"No, but I wasn't really looking to find out," Arslan said.
"Neither was I, I suppose, but I would have expected to see something about it," Pyrrha murmured. "And besides, Phoebe would never date a faunus."
"I didn't say that they went out, or that she loved him," Jaune pointed out. "I just said that he loved her."
Yes, that was quite true; he hadn't spoken of any reciprocity on Phoebe's part, only of Lycus' own feelings.
Did you know, Phoebe? If you had known, what would you have done?
If you had known that you could be happy, would you have turned away from your desire for fame and glory?
Obviously, it wasn't a question that she could ever know the answer to; she would have needed, like Sunset, to be able to look into Phoebe's soul to find the answer, and even if she had that power, it was too late to use it now.
"Rough on him if you're right," Cardin grunted. "She's gone, and he has to live with it."
"But he'll get over it," Penny said. "Won't he? I mean, obviously, he won't forget her, but … he'll move on. He'll move forward. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?"
"Yes," Weiss said softly. "But just because you're supposed to do something doesn't mean that you will. Sometimes … sometimes, the hurts that people carry are too great, the wounds inflicted too deep, to be moved on from."
"So … what then?" asked Penny.
Weiss sighed, as she clasped her hands together on the top of the table. "I can't say," she admitted. "I'm not sure that anyone can. It's all … up to the person concerned. It all depends on them; on him, in this case. Depending on just how much she meant to him, what kind of person he is … none of us can really say where he'll go from here."
"All we can do is wish him well and hope that he has some good friends to support him," Ruby added.
"Indeed," Pyrrha murmured. "Indeed."
She bowed her head and closed her eyes a moment and briefly prayed for the soul of Phoebe Kommenos, that her shade would find rest in whatever awaited the spirit after death.
Then she got to her feet. "Amber," she said, "may I speak with you — and Dove, you too, I suppose — for a moment, outside the cafeteria?"
"Oh, of course, Pyrrha," Amber said as she, too, rose to her feet, and Dove as well.
"Thank you," Pyrrha said. "Excuse me," she added to Jaune and Ruby, "I'll be back soon."
She walked out of the dining hall, with Amber and Dove following behind her, leading them not only outside but around the edge of the building towards the rear; the tourists hadn't yet started to arrive for the second day of the tournament, but already, there were plenty of students about, moving in and out of the cafeteria and around the courtyard, getting their breakfast before the tourists did arrive, not to mention everyone setting up the fairground attractions. Even without the vast and heaving crowds that would shortly descend on Beacon, there were enough people able to make Pyrrha nervous of being overheard, and so she brought Amber and Dove around the rear of the dining hall, where there were no windows and hardly anyone actually went; it looked like a loading dock, with space to land an airship, with wheeled cages to transport goods back and forth and with some stacked tubs of industrial-quality fat that Pyrrha would very much rather not think about. And so, lest they be disturbed by any of the kitchen staff instead of the students, they moved on yet further, passing the loading dock and finding an unobtrusive spot beyond, where she could see no one and it appeared that nobody could see them either.
"A slightly less cosy part of Beacon," Dove observed.
"But quiet," Pyrrha replied.
"Yes," Amber murmured. "Yes, it does look very quiet." She paused for a moment, looking around. "What is it, Pyrrha?" she asked. "What did you want to talk to us about?"
"I…" Pyrrha trailed off, because it was somewhat … well, no, it wasn't difficult — it was very straightforward really — but at the same time … she didn't want to alarm Amber; that was the heart and the truth of it. She didn't want to frighten her, after all that she'd been through already. She deserved better.
But in this world, we do not always get what we deserve, do we?
So, since I cannot give Amber what she deserves, I should at least give her the truth.
"Phoebe, the dead girl, the … murdered girl found in Vale," she said. "I believe, and Sunset believes it too — that's why she has gone to speak with Professor Ozpin — that Phoebe was murdered by…" — she drew in a deep breath — "Cinder."
A gasp tumbled out of Amber's mouth. Her eyes widened as she staggered a few steps backwards. "Cinder?" she repeated, her voice a high-pitched whisper. "Cinder, no, that … that's not possible, that … it can't be!"
"We may be mistaken," Pyrrha said. "But I do not think it likely."
"Why not?" Dove asked. "Why would Cinder want to kill an Atlas student? Who was this Phoebe person to her?"
"I would…" Pyrrha hesitated a moment. She did not really want to say; it would, after all, be a breach of confidence to someone who had, whatever her faults, saved Pyrrha's life on two occasions — once in the Mountain Glenn tunnel, when her strength had begun to falter, and again when she had forced Merlot to disable the self-destruct mechanism. Although they were enemies, it did not sit entirely right with Pyrrha's conscience. "I would ask that you trust me on this; there is cause to believe it. Cinder has cause, and I — we — know of no one else of whom we can say the same."
"But I … but she…" Amber began.
"Amber?" Pyrrha asked, not really understanding what she was trying to say.
"Amber," Dove murmured, putting his arms around her, his hands upon her arms just beneath the shoulders.
Amber shook her head. "She, Cinder, she's here?"
"She is in Vale, or was, if our suspicions are correct," Pyrrha said. "But Vale is not Beacon, and while I must confess it is concerning that she could come there, nevertheless, Vale is not Beacon. Please, do not be too afraid. I tell you this because it is true, and because you deserve and because perhaps you should be on your guard, but I beg you, do not be too afraid." She paused for a moment, thinking. "Professor Ozpin may have some additional thoughts on how to protect you once Sunset tells him all of this, but until then … I will ask Yang to keep you company during Sunset and I's match this morning; she is strong and valiant. Perhaps Ruby also would not mind giving the fight a miss and stay with Amber instead? "And then Sunset and I will return swiftly. Perhaps … I hesitate to confine you, but in the circumstances, perhaps it would be best if you stayed in our dorm room today, out of sight."
Amber was silent. She clasped her hands together in front of her and bowed her head, as though it was her turn to pray for guidance or protection or both.
Pyrrha watched her but did not press her for a reply.
Dove, too, was silent, his arms still upon her, watching her; there was concern etched upon his face, but he said nothing.
Amber was silent a moment longer, and then another. Her lips moved, but no sound emerged.
What are you thinking? What do you feel? How fearful is your heart?
"No," she said as she opened her eyes and looked up, looking Pyrrha in the eyes. "No, I … I am afraid," she admitted, her whole body trembling. "But I don't want to … I don't want to be caged again. I don't want to be shut away; I don't want to shut myself away."
"You do not want to let the fear rule you," Pyrrha said softly. She smiled. "That is very brave and very admirable."
Amber glanced away from Pyrrha towards Dove. "I don't want to be shut in a cage."
Pyrrha reached out and took Amber's hands in hers. "Then we will see you well-protected," she promised.
"And," Dove began, his voice uncertain, "if Ozpin—"
"Sunset will not allow him to put you in a cage, I hope," Pyrrha said. "I shall not, but I hope that will not be necessary. Sunset has more regard for Professor Ozpin than some of us now have, but nevertheless, in his presence, she will fight for you, I have no doubt."
XxXxX
Sunset walked across the courtyard. It was still too early in the morning for visitors, but there were a fair few students heading the other way to her, towards the cafeteria and towards their breakfast.
Sunset paid them very little mind. They were a blur to her, vague shapes in uniforms or combat gear, moving past her like mist or shadow, insubstantial. Her mind was on other things. Her mind was a maelstrom. Her mind leapt from thought to thought like a flea on the back of a dog.
Cinder was in Vale. Cinder had, at least, been to Vale, although she might not be there now. Cinder had killed Phoebe Kommenos. Cinder had been to Vale. Phoebe was dead. Cinder had killed her. Phoebe was dead.
Sunset felt no pity for Phoebe Kommenos. She had been … knowing what she knew, it was hard not to think that Phoebe had gotten what she deserved, although possibly others kinder than Sunset — Pyrrha or Ruby — might scold her for an attitude like that. But they had not felt Cinder's soul and heart as Sunset had; they hadn't felt the fear of Phoebe that Cinder, that Ashley, had felt; they hadn't felt the pain of what Phoebe had done to Ashley, the humiliation. They might know what Phoebe had done to Cinder, but only in the vaguest terms since Sunset had couched them in the vaguest terms. They didn't know … they hadn't felt the way that Cinder had felt.
Having felt it, Sunset could understand why Cinder had wanted her revenge, wanted it so badly that she had been willing to take it even though it had grown cold indeed.
Had wanted it so badly that she had been willing to give away her presence in Vale.
Of course, and this is very much a good thing from our perspective, she doesn't know that there's anything worth concealing her presence for; she doesn't know about Amber, thank goodness.
Also, thank goodness we didn't go down to the carnival last night; if Cinder had spotted Amber down there … it hardly bears thinking about.
How much of this really bears thinking about?
For Celestia's sake, Cinder, couldn't you have let us enjoy the tournament in peace without having to worry about all this stuff?
Really, you have only yourself to blame for the fact that I'm about to tell Professor Ozpin your secret. If you didn't want it to come out, you shouldn't have put me in a corner like this.
Sunset's ears dropped into the midst of her flaming hair.
Not that you'll understand.
Forgive me.
"Sunset? Sunset Shimmer?"
Sunset stopped, pulled up by the voice of Mal Sapphire of Team PSTL; the Atlesian huntress stood beneath the statue of the huntsman and huntress that dominated the Beacon courtyard, hood down but the shadow of the statue obscuring her face a little nonetheless. She was waving one hand to attract Sunset's attention, although it hadn't worked out terribly well up until now.
Sunset shook her head as she made her way, a little curious, over to the statue and to Mal Sapphire. "Sorry," she said softly, "my head was … somewhere else."
"It's fine," Mal said quickly. "I'm feeling a little bit like that myself, ever since they told us…"
"Yeah," Sunset muttered. "Yeah, I can imagine." She paused for a moment, thrusting her hands into her pockets as she looked around. "Where are your teammates?"
"Thorn is with Lycus," Mal explained. "Although I'm not entirely sure where that is right now. In Atlas, when Lycus … when it all gets too much for him, he goes up onto the roof; Atlas is just one big tower, you see, so from the roof, you can see all the way out across the city and beyond. It's a beautiful view, even if it is a long way up. Lycus likes to take the stairs because he says that just the climb helps with his mood, never mind the view. There isn't really anything like that here."
"The view from the cliffs isn't bad," Sunset suggested, "provided you don't mind trees."
"That … well … maybe," Mal murmured. "Thanks for the idea."
Sunset took a step back, looking down at the black base of the statue. There was no sign of Sky's picture, or of the flowers that had been left for him.
"After the Breach, there was a little memorial here to the student that died," she said. "I'd suggest something similar, but with all of the tourists, I'm not sure that it would be allowed."
"That's fine," Mal said. "When we get back to Atlas, Lycus can put her picture up on These Are My Jewels if he wants to, and maybe her … maybe there'll be something for her in Mistral. I know that she had a lot of family history there."
"Yes, so I understand," Sunset murmured. "It was a storied line."
Mal nodded. "That … we don't really have those in Atlas; the old noble families were either purged before the war, or they died in the war, or they faded into irrelevance pretty quickly afterwards with everything that was changing. The closest thing we have is the Schnee family, and that's only three generations old."
"I know," Sunset said. "I am … I lived in Atlas before I came to Beacon."
"Oh," Mal said. "Right. I didn't know that. Sorry, I didn't mean to tell you what dust is. Anyway, the point is … well, I suppose that I don't know what it's like in Mistral the way you know what it's like in Atlas; maybe the other old families will honour her in some way … or maybe they'll forget, since her family doesn't exist anymore. I don't know if she did anything for her family. But whatever, the real point is that Lycus can honour her back in Atlas, I suppose."
Sunset noted that she hadn't said anything about either her or Thorn honouring Phoebe, but she didn't comment upon the fact. She didn't want to get into that; in fact, she didn't really want to be here at all; she wasn't sure why she was here. She didn't know — and wasn't in much of a mood to speculate — as to why Mal had flagged her down the way she had. What did she want?
"I'm not," Mal began, but then stopped, pausing. "It's considered bad form to speak ill of the dead, and I wouldn't want to say anything that would be frowned on in etiquette class. But, or should I say nevertheless … I'm sorry about what happened in the dining hall back there; it was … rude and uncalled for, and it doesn't reflect opinions among the entire team, much less amongst the Atlas students generally. If you're worried that this is going to precipitate some sort of hostility—"
"I wasn't," Sunset said, "I, we, have enough friends amongst the Atlas students that I wouldn't expect that."
"Right, yes, of course," Mal said. "Rosepetal, Tsunami, Blake Belladonna … although I'm a bit surprised that the rest of Rosepetal have forgiven you for tempting one of their teammates away from Atlas."
"We didn't tempt Penny anywhere; she chose to come to Beacon," Sunset said, a touch of terseness creeping into her voice.
"Right, sure," Mal said quickly, raising both hands in a pacific gesture. "I'm sorry, I … I'm really not very good at this. I … I'm sorry. I meant no offence, I promise. Please accept my apology."
Does she think that I'm going to hit her or something if I don't accept it? Sunset wondered, before she remembered who Mal's team leader was. She didn't know how Phoebe had treated her teammates — Lycus certainly seemed to be broken up about her death, so she must have treated him okay — but, well, the chimera didn't change its stripes, did it?
"It's fine," Sunset said. "Don't worry about it." She paused for a moment. "You'll excuse me, but I was on my way—"
"Yes, sorry," Mal apologised again. "I just wanted to say … I suppose I've said it, but I'm sorry about the way that Lycus confronted your teammates. We don't think that she did it, and I don't think that he does either. I … I have no idea what happened, but it seems so strange to think of a student from one of the academies committing a murder."
"I agree," Sunset said, which was easy when she knew — or at the very least strongly suspected — who had done it. "It doesn't matter. I think that Pyrrha was able to defuse the situation with her words; if anything stuck, I would be surprised — or I might not be so forgiving, I must admit. But nobody … I don't think anybody will take it seriously, and … if anything deserves to be forgiven, it's somebody in the throes of grief. I hope…" Now, it was Sunset's turn to trail off, searching for the right words. Searching, moreover, for words which, if they conveyed no truth or profundity, at least appeared to be more than the regurgitation of shallow cliche. "It, um … it's hard to know what to say that doesn't sound banal, stale, and said too often, devoid of real sentiment or sympathy. To be honest, I'm not sure that I ought to wish for it to stop hurting him."
"No?" Mal asked.
"No," Sunset agreed. "I think … it ought to hurt, when you lose someone close to you. If it doesn't, if it ever stops hurting, isn't that a sign that you've forgotten them?"
"Or that you've moved on from it," Mal suggested.
"How is that any different, other than that it's phrased in such a way as to suggest a positive?" Sunset asked, and as she asked it, she could not help thinking about Cinder's diatribe upon the subject on the night after the dance.
"I will not move. Not one step."
"I … you can't grieve forever," Mal said. "You'll destroy yourself. I think that Phoebe … it doesn't matter."
"Pyrrha's thoughts are with Lycus, no doubt," Sunset declared. "You can tell him that. It might be better than telling him what I just said."
"Y-yes," Mal murmured. "But I'm glad … there are no hard feelings. Now I won't take up any more of your time."
"Thank you," Sunset said quietly. "I hope … Lycus isn't the only one who has my sympathy."
Mal didn't say anything, but she nodded.
Sunset nodded back at her and resumed her journey towards the tower.
With so many of the students headed towards the cafeteria, the way to the tower itself was not so crowded, although there were more Atlesian combat robots in the vicinity of the tower than elsewhere, and the guards upon the tower itself. Still, neither human nor robotic guards hindered Sunset in her progress, and she walked through the doors into the green-lit lobby of the tower itself.
It occurred to Sunset that perhaps she ought to have called ahead, if only to make sure that Professor Ozpin was both in his office and not busy. But the only times when Professor Ozpin didn't seem to be in his office appeared to be either when he was making announcements to the student body or popping up behind you like some sort of ninja to dispense sage wisdom — Sunset checked behind her to make sure she hadn't missed him — so she was reasonably confident that he would be at the top of the tower.
And if he wasn't, the elevator probably wouldn't let her go up that far.
As for whether he was busy, well, if he was, then he could always tell Sunset to go and she would go, and come back later.
So Sunset summoned an elevator and stepped into the first one available.
She used her scroll to confirm her identity and pushed the button to take her all the way up to Professor Ozpin's office on the very top of the tower.
The lift did not reject her request, but rather began to grind upwards, throbbing and thrumming as it carried Sunset slowly up and up.
Sunset breathed in and out.
"Hello, Professor, there's something that I've been sitting on for a bit that I've decided to finally tell you about."
I had good reasons for keeping it a secret.
Although I'm not sure Professor Ozpin will consider 'Cinder asked me not to spread her secrets around, and I promised I wouldn't' as a good reason.
It's not as though it would have really helped to have known the truth about her childhood, would it? It doesn't change who she is or what she's up to now.
Well, I suppose it did change what she was up to in Vale last night.
How was I to know that she was going to be in Vale last night?
Perhaps I should have known that she'd go after Phoebe.
I didn't think that she would be able to reenter Vale so easily.
We all thought that she was done. Now, Cinder has reminded us that it is not so.
Was that part of the point of this, Cinder? I know that you did it for your revenge, because of what she did to you, but at the same time, did you seek to remind us that you're still there and that your fangs are sharp? Or was it a mistake on your part to rouse us from our complacency?
If it had been part of a plan on Cinder's part, it was difficult to see what she gained by it, although of course, that was not to say that Cinder didn't gain anything by it, just that Sunset wasn't smart enough to work out what it was.
What, if anything, do you gain by a death? By this death?
"I gain my comfort, Sunset; I gain my peace, I gain my vengeance, I gain the sweet satisfaction of a nightmare banished. In this, I kill not only foe but fear itself." Sunset could hear Cinder's voice in her head, every word overemphasised and lingered upon in that theatrical manner than she had.
"Yes, Cinder, but how does that help you on your path to victory?"
In Sunset's head, Cinder laughed at that. "How does it help? Sunset, this is the Vytal Festival! In Mistral, it is a holiday, and nobody works towards their higher goal upon a holiday. You must allow a girl a little fun as this great celebration reaches its conclusion."
I hope that's all it is, Cinder.
The lift slowed to a halt, and the door opened with a soft beeping sound; Sunset stepped out into Professor Ozpin's office, her footsteps quiet compared with the grinding of the gears above.
Professor Ozpin was present, and he was alone, standing with his back to Sunset and the elevator, looking out of the immense windows at the world spread out beneath him. Sunset wondered if he could see the preparations in the fairgrounds for the second day of the tournament, or if his perch was too lofty to see so low.
Professor Ozpin looked over his shoulder. "Miss Shimmer," he said in a tone of mild surprise.
Sunset took a few steps forward. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Professor."
"Not at all, Miss Shimmer, not at all; I was merely observing the state of affairs," Professor Ozpin said as he turned around and walked back to his desk. "It occasionally does me good, I find, to look out and remind myself of what we are fighting to protect. Not, of course, that I do much fighting these days." He smiled, but only slightly and very briefly too. "What can I do for you, Miss Shimmer?" he asked as he sat down.
Sunset approached, until she was perhaps half a dozen paces away from the desk, the shadows of the gears above passing over her face. She clasped her hands together behind her back as though she were an Atlesian soldier and it was General Ironwood who sat before her. "You … are you aware that an Atlesian student died last night, Professor?"
Professor Ozpin nodded solemnly. "I am, Miss Shimmer; a very sad business. My thoughts are with her surviving teammates, of course."
"Of course, Professor," Sunset murmured. "Professor … Professor, I think that this was Cinder's work."
Professor Ozpin went very still, as if a cockatrice had ridden up in the elevator alongside Sunset and petrified him. He stared at her, unblinking, his grey eyes inscrutable, but his very stillness did not suggest that he was taking the news particularly well.
"Cinder Fall," he murmured.
"Yes, Professor," Sunset said, the words sounding heavy as they dropped out of her mouth.
Professor Ozpin continued to stare at her; it might have been Sunset's imagination, but she could have sworn that she saw the lines on his face deepening. "She returned to Vale?" he asked. His mouth opened, and Sunset heard the beginning of a 'wh' sound, or thought she did, but Professor Ozpin did not finish the word, let alone the thought, before he changed tack, "Miss Shimmer…" Again, he trailed off, falling silent.
He turned his chair around, putting his back to her, looking once more out of his window as an Atlesian airship glided by, temporarily obscuring most of the view of the immense Mistralian battleship floating above the city.
Sunset said nothing. She waited, patiently, for the professor to speak; even her tail was utterly still.
"Must move more swiftly. I should have…" Professor Ozpin murmured, speaking more to himself than to Sunset. He raised his voice, "Miss Shimmer, where is Amber now?"
"I left her in the dining hall, Professor," Sunset said, "with Pyrrha and the others."
"Have them bring her here, at once," Professor Ozpin said. "And if possible, have Miss Xiao Long join us also."
"Uh, yes, Professor," Sunset said. "At once." She turned away — not that there was much point, with him already having turned away from her — and fished her scroll out of her jacket pocket, opening it up and selecting Pyrrha's name out of her address book.
It did not take long at all for Pyrrha's face — with sky beyond it; she had obviously gone outside — to appear on the screen of Pyrrha's scroll. "Sunset," she said, "How did—?"
"Hey, Pyrrha," Sunset said, cutting her off. "Amber's with you, right?"
Pyrrha nodded. "And Dove, too."
"Good," Sunset said. "I need you to keep hold of them and bring them, Ruby, Jaune, and Yang up to Professor Ozpin's office."
"Yang?"
"Yes, and Yang, too," Sunset said.
"Right away?"
"Right away, yes."
Pyrrha frowned, but nodded. "Very well; we'll be there shortly."
"I'll see you then," Sunset said, before hanging up on her.
"Mister Bronzewing too?" Professor Ozpin asked.
Sunset turned around, to see that Professor Ozpin had done likewise and now looked at her from over his desk.
Sunset folded her scroll and put it away. "Yes, Professor," she said. "I take it that's not a problem."
"No," Professor Ozpin said softly. "No, I suppose it's for the best. She would … hate me, else." He paused, but not for long, seconds at most. "I take it that you have no objections to General Ironwood joining us in this meeting, Miss Shimmer? I think that he should hear this."
Sunset's arms fell down to her sides. "No, Professor," she said. "I understand why this would concern him."
Professor Ozpin tapped the transparent surface of his desk, bringing up a holographic interface over which his fingers moved nimbly.
A holographic screen appeared, divided into three, with the faces of not only General Ironwood but also of Professor Goodwitch and Qrow Branwen.
"Jimmy, Glynda," Qrow said. "Something up, Oz? We normally have these meetings in person?"
Professor Ozpin tapped a button on his interface, and the three images flickered for a moment.
"Miss Shimmer," Professor Goodwitch murmured; obviously, Professor Ozpin had reversed the direction in which the three were looking, so that they faced her instead of him.
"Professor," Sunset murmured.
"Miss Shimmer has come to me with…" Professor Ozpin trailed off as he walked around the desk to stand, not exactly beside her but at least in her vicinity, in view of General Ironwood, Professor Goodwitch, and Qrow. "Perhaps you had better tell them, Miss Shimmer."
"Yes, Professor," Sunset said. She took a deep breath and focussed her attention on General Ironwood. "General, I believe that your student, Phoebe Kommenos, who was found dead this morning, I think … Cinder is responsible."
"Cinder?" Qrow repeated. "She's in Vale?"
"If Miss Shimmer is correct," Professor Ozpin said.
"Why?" General Ironwood asked. "Why would Salem be interested in an Atlas student?"
"It wasn't for Salem, sir," Sunset said. "It was for Cinder herself. Phoebe Kommenos is, was…" — she swallowed, for her throat was dry — "Cinder's stepsister."
There was a moment of silence.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Shimmer?" Professor Goodwitch asked.
"You didn't know about this, Jim?" Qrow asked.
"I didn't know that Kommenos had a stepsister," General Ironwood said. "I didn't know that she had a stepfather; applying for Atlas, she told me that her father was dead and her mother had raised her and her sister alone. Miss Shimmer, how do you know this?"
"I…" Sunset raised her hand, opening and closing it in front of her face. "My semblance is … empathy, or touch telepathy, or more accurately, it's a bit of both. I touch people with my bare hand, and I can see their memories, feel what they are feeling — in fact, the default of it is that their emotions guide which of their memories I see. On the night that Cinder was revealed as an agent of Salem, I fought with her, and I touched her arm. My semblance activated, and I saw her memories of her past: Cinder's father married Lady Kommenos after his own wife died, and after he died too, Cinder was left in her stepmother's care. It…" Sunset hesitated. There were things that Professor Ozpin — and the others, she supposed — needed to know, but surely, they didn't need to know all the details. They didn't need to know what Cinder had gone through to turn Ashley Little-Glassman into Cinder Fall. "It didn't go too well for her. They were cruel. Phoebe was especially cruel."
"A bully," Professor Goodwitch murmured.
"Worse than a bully, Professor," Sunset said softly.
Professor Goodwitch looked at her, green eyes unblinking behind her spectacles. "I see," she said quietly, in a tone that made it hard to say if she truly saw or not.
"And you believe that Cinder murdered Miss Kommenos out of revenge for this … childhood mistreatment," Professor Ozpin said.
"I do, Professor," Sunset said. "She … Cinder killed her mother and her other stepsister; she set the fire that burned down the house with them inside. It seems … logical that she would want to kill Phoebe as well."
"Makes sense to me," Qrow muttered. "Honestly, it's far from the worst thing that she's done."
"Qrow," General Ironwood growled.
"Don't give me that, James," Qrow replied. "Not all of us were lucky enough to have dads who sprayed water on the roof with a hosepipe so you could fall asleep on the night of your big exam. I used to fall asleep dreaming about cutting my old man's throat while he slept because of the way he treated us."
"And did you?" asked General Ironwood.
"No, I cut it off in battle; he was leading a raid on some podunk village, and I happened to be nearby," Qrow said. "But it was still a good day. This Cinder girl has done some real evil: what she did to Amber, attacking Vale. That, I'll condemn. But sometimes, the monsters in your family give you as little choice as the grimm out there, and I won't condemn anyone for doing what they have to, no matter what kind of person they turn out to be afterwards."
"For justice?" asked General Ironwood.
"For peace," Qrow corrected him. "For a little … closure, I guess."
"That's as may be," General Ironwood said, before he fixed Sunset with a baleful gaze, "but that doesn't change the fact that you knew about this, you've known for months, and you didn't say anything!"
"Yes, sir."
"Why did you keep silent, Miss Shimmer?" asked Professor Ozpin calmly.
"Because," Sunset swallowed again, "because Cinder asked me to, Professor. She wasn't thrilled about my knowing the truth about her past; she didn't want anyone else knowing it either."
"So you kept it entirely to yourself?" asked Professor Goodwitch.
"I … told my teammates before Cinder called with the message inviting us to Mountain Glenn," Sunset admitted. "She wasn't particularly happy that they knew, particularly not that Pyrrha knew, and she was very insistent that I not tell anyone else. She told me that she had a right to the privacy of her past, and I agreed with her."
"The privacy of her past has gotten one of my students killed," General Ironwood growled. "If any of what you say is true; that isn't the Kommenos that I knew."
"You can't have it both ways," Qrow said. "Either Sunset here kept the truth from you, which might have gotten the girl killed but also means that she sounds like she had it coming, or it isn't true, in which case—"
"The fact that Cinder Fall believed it still means that there was a target on Kommenos' back," General Ironwood said. "If I had known, I would have—"
"What would you have done, James?" asked Professor Ozpin. "Spirited her away to Atlas for safekeeping? Set a guard upon her?"
"Perhaps both," General Ironwood replied. "Did it not occur to you that you might be putting Kommenos in danger by keeping Cinder's confidence?"
"General, I would put money on Phoebe having put Pyrrha in danger by spreading rumours about her that goaded her into challenging Cinder to a duel to the death," Sunset said. "All I did … Cinder had been chased out of Beacon; first, she was at Mountain Glenn, and then … I didn't think that she could get back into Vale. I didn't think that their paths would ever cross again. I knew that Cinder had motive, but I didn't expect her to ever get the opportunity."
"What's done is done," Professor Ozpin said. "Recriminations cannot bring Miss Kommenos back. James, it is pointless to cast blame in this. None of us expected that Cinder Fall would be able to reenter Vale."
"If she did," Professor Goodwitch replied. "Miss Shimmer offers a compelling motive, but no proof."
"True, Glynda, but I suggest that we proceed on the assumption that Miss Shimmer is correct, if only for Amber's safety," Professor Ozpin said.
"What's the plan, Oz?" Qrow asked. "Tell the cops who are already supposed to be looking for Cinder? How did she even get past the gate?"
"We don't know the semblances of her confederates," Professor Goodwitch said. "Or Cinder's own semblance. Perhaps one or more of them has some ability that allows them to infiltrate past Vale's defences."
"Something happened when my team caught up with them," General Ironwood said. "According to Captain Ebi's report, one minute, they had Cinder's team on the ropes, the next … he describes it like a madness coming over them."
"Great, somebody has a semblance that can mess with your head," Qrow growled. "Those are the worst kind." He paused for a moment. "Maybe the second worst."
"I do not wish to risk the police prying into our secrets by having them question Miss Shimmer," Professor Ozpin said, "but I will politely request that they redouble their vigilance for Cinder Fall, for whatever good that may do. In the meantime, James, I would be grateful if you could have your units begin searching Vale, beginning with the area around the crime scene. It is possible, at least, that Cinder may have gone to ground nearby; your people may have better luck in a second round."
General Ironwood nodded. "I'll get them on it right away."
"I could take a look around, too," Qrow offered. "I might hear something Jimmy's Atlesian special operatives drown out with their boots crashing around."
"No, Qrow, I have something else I need you to do," Professor Ozpin.
At just that moment, the elevator pinged. The door opened, and out stepped Pyrrha, Amber, Dove, Ruby, Jaune, and Yang.
"Professor," Pyrrha said, clasping her hands together in front of her. "I apologise if we kept you waiting."
"Not at all, Miss Nikos; you're all just in time," Professor Ozpin said, venturing a slight smile. "Please, come in, Miss Rose, Miss Xiao Long, Mister Arc, Mister Bronzewing. Amber."
"Ozpin," Amber said softly, so softly that Sunset couldn't discern a tone in her voice.
"Professor Goodwitch," Yang said. "Uncle Qrow?"
"Hey, kids," Qrow said. "Oz, what's Yang doing here?"
"Oh, thanks a lot, Uncle Qrow!" Yang said, bristling visibly. A red tint entered her eyes as she planted both hands upon her hips.
Qrow sighed. "I didn't mean … I'm sorry, kiddo, I just—"
"If we may continue," Professor Ozpin said. Nevertheless, despite having said that he paused for a moment. "It has been brought to our attention that, last night, Cinder Fall may have entered into the city of Vale and taken the life of one of General Ironwood's students. While we had always considered the possibility that Vale might be unsafe, and my requirements that Amber should be accompanied by at least all four members of Team Sapphire in the city reflected that, nevertheless, the events of last night have brought home to the precariousness of our position. Therefore, I have decided to accelerate our plans. Miss Rose, Miss Xiao Long, as soon as the Vytal Tournament is over, I would like you to take Amber … and Mister Bronzewing to Patch, to your home, to stay with you and your father until I can find a more permanent residence for Amber. Qrow, I want you to go with them also."
"Are you sure that's a good idea, Oz?" Qrow asked.
"There is no one that I trust more, Qrow," Professor Ozpin replied, calmly but firmly at the same time.
Qrow was silent for a moment. "Okay," he grunted. "If you're sure."
"Patch," Amber murmured. "Where is Patch? What's it like?"
"It's an island just off the coast of Vale, a little to the west of here," Ruby explained. "It's kind of small, and kind of quiet, especially at our house because it's … a little bit out of the way."
"It's a cabin in the woods in the middle of nowhere," Yang said.
"But it's really nice and cosy," Ruby insisted. "It's comfortable, and Dad has a great garden that he takes really good care of, with sunflowers and roses and all kinds of flowers, and then, like Yang said, there are woods all around with badgers and foxes and rabbits, and cliffs with … with a really great view of the sea."
"That … that does sound lovely," Amber agreed. She smiled a little. "It almost sounds like the sort of place I might like to stay forever."
"That won't be possible, I'm afraid," Professor Ozpin said. "Secluded as it is, there is always a chance that our enemies might seek to look for you at Tai's house. This is a stopgap measure, nothing more."
"Yes," Amber said. "Yes, of course it is. I see."
"But we'll have some fun while you're with us," Yang assured her. "Make some memories that you'll never forget. Hey, does this mean that I'm part of the club now? Can I come to all your secret meetings?"
"This isn't a game, Yang," Qrow said.
"No, it's not a game; it's the biggest thing in the world, and you kept me on the outside of it while letting Ruby stroll through the door," Yang said, all levity dropping from her tone.
Qrow didn't meet his niece's eyes.
Professor Goodwitch said, "You have a right to your frustration, Miss Xiao Long, but you are correct; from this moment, you are, as you say, in the club. Where I always thought you belonged."
That last sentence was accompanied by a brief glare in Qrow's direction.
"Professor?" Jaune said, raising his hand a little. "If … if it's so urgent to get Amber away, and I guess I can see why you want to, why wait until the tournament is over? Why not send Amber to patch right now?"
"Because Miss Xiao Long is still due to fight in the tournament, and even Miss Rose's absence would be noted if she were to suddenly disappear while her team was still in contention," Professor Ozpin explained. "Even if they were to leave unseen, their vanishing might be noticed and, on being noticed, might invite questions that could point to Patch. It will be better to take advantage of general dispersal at the end of the tournament, as students from all the academies return home to their own kingdoms to prepare for the new academic year at their own schools. Amidst everyone else going home, Miss Rose and Miss Xiao Long doing so will not be noted."
"So … until then," Sunset began, then hesitated because once she had asked the question she wouldn't be able to ignore the answers that she — or Amber, more importantly — didn't like. "Until then … are there to be any changes to Amber's … arrangements?"
Amber went very still, her eyes flickering between Sunset and Professor Ozpin.
No one spoke as the gears of the clock ground on above them.
Professor Ozpin held out his hands in front of him, looking as though he wished he had his cane so that he would have something to hold or lean on. "What do you think, Miss Shimmer?" he asked. "Or any of you?"
"I think … that Cinder, having had her revenge, has little reason to remain in Vale or to return again, not knowing that Amber is awake," Sunset said. "And I think, Professor, that if Amber is to be spirited away so soon, then it would be a shame if … if she couldn't make the most of her last couple of days with us. Amber wanted to go down to the carnival tonight; I don't know if she still does, recent events might have changed her mind."
"I … I don't…" Amber trailed off. Dove took her hand, and Pyrrha placed a hand of hers upon her shoulder. "I suppose … I suppose I am afraid," Amber went on. "But I don't … I don't want to let my fear … I don't want it to keep me prisoner, the way that…" She didn't finish, but the conclusion was obvious, and so was the way that Professor Ozpin flinched from the unspoken accusation. "If I do have to go back into a dark box soon, I want to live in the light as much as I can before that."
"It's a large crowd," Professor Goodwitch warned. "A lot of noise, a lot of people."
"It won't just be the four of us, Professor," Sunset said quickly. "Team Rosepetal will join us too, and Blake, and Yang too, I hope."
"Fine by me," Yang said. "Just happy to be included."
"That's nine people, since Twilight doesn't really count and shouldn't be counted," Sunset went on. "We can arrange a comprehensive plan for Amber's protection; we've done it before for her first trip into Vale."
"The circumstances will be more challenging this time," Professor Ozpin warned.
"Yes, Professor, I'm sure, but I'm also sure that we can adapt to that," Sunset declared. "Please, Professor, I … I understand your concerns, but I ask that you … do not let Amber's last days here be nothing but grey misery of anticipating her impending departure. As Amber says, let the light shine a little longer."
Professor Ozpin did not offer an immediate response. Eventually, after some little time marked by the incessant sounds of the clock above had passed, he said, "You will provide me with your plan for Amber's protection; I will approve it, or Amber will remain here at Beacon."
"Yes, Professor," Sunset said. "Of course."
Professor Ozpin nodded. "Very well then," he said quietly. "I … it was never my wish to make you unhappy Amber, only to keep you safe."
"And the magic," Amber whispered.
Professor Ozpin closed his eyes. "Yes," he admitted. "And the magic." He opened his eyes again. "I shall look forward to seeing your plan, Miss Shimmer, but for now, I think that you and Miss Nikos should prepare for your match, the opening bout of the day."
Sunset chuckled. "Yes, Professor, I suppose we better had."
Professor Ozpin almost smiled. "I know I probably shouldn't say this, especially in front of General Ironwood, but: best of luck, to both of you."
The Amity Colosseum hung in the sky above, but Yang was down on the ground below, with Amber and Dove.
It was kind of a pity that she wouldn't get to see Pyrrha and Sunset's two-on-two fight — contrary to what she had told Ren and Nora, she would have enjoyed watching it — but you couldn't on the one hand complain that you'd been left out of all the secret stuff and then complain again when you were asked to start pulling your weight.
And besides, while she was a little disappointed, Yang could stand to miss the fight more than Penny, or maybe even more than the other Atlesians.
Than the Atlesians, she supposed she ought to say; Penny was kind of pretty much a Beacon student already.
Just like Blake was pretty much already an Atlesian.
Yang wondered idly if they would be getting Penny next year, to replace Blake; that might not be so bad: Team SAPR certainly appeared to like her, and she seemed a nice enough person. But there was something … not something bad, not at all, but something … something about her. Yang couldn't explain it, but … it was like there was something going unsaid, something…
Something that other people know about her but I don't.
More secrets.
More secrets that Ruby was keeping from her.
Maybe. She hoped not.
Or at least I hope there's a good reason if she is.
Yang sighed and leaned forward just a little bit. The grounds were starting to fill up now, as day two of the tournament got under way, but it was not too crowded just yet — although it would be soon, the way more people kept spilling off the airships that seemed to dock at the platforms one after the other like they were on a conveyor belt — and so, she, along with Amber and Dove, had managed to get a table in the northeast corner of the fairground that was reserved as a seating, eating, and drinking area.
For Yang, the Mistraliano in a cardboard cup and the bacon bap with brown sauce wrapped in paper sitting on the table in front of her covered that off. She wouldn't normally have eaten again so early in the day, certainly nothing so big, but she was going to be burning off a lot of calories later on today, and it was going to be so crowded that lunch might not be possible.
Out of the corner of Yang's eye, she spotted a little girl wearing an immense blonde wig that was so big that it nearly swallowed up her whole head underneath it, not to mention the way it spilled down to the ground behind her. Yang was kind of amazed that she could see out of it, the way her eyes were hidden by the wig's bangs.
Or maybe she couldn't see and needed her mom to guide her around.
It took Yang a little while to realise, since the little girl wasn't really dressed like her at all, but after a few seconds, it occurred to her that those yellow cardboard tubes that the girl was wearing on her arms might be Ember Celica.
And I do have … quite a lot of hair.
Not that that was a bad thing, of course. Yang liked her hair, she liked the colour of it, she liked the shape of it too, the volume. She liked the glossy sheen it had as well, but she had to admit that that was getting a little harder to maintain because there was getting to be just so much hair that it was becoming a bit of a trial to wash in the mornings.
On the other hand, it does make me recognisable.
A smile crossed Yang's face. I've got a fan. I've got a fan!
At least somebody thinks I'm awesome.
Although — and no offence to the little girl in question — if somebody was going to recognise her qualities, she would rather that it be someone … closer.
Finally in the club, and I'm still upset.
No, I'm not upset, I'm broody. I've got things to be broody about.
"Yang," Amber's voice was an interruption to Yang's thoughts, an intrusion, albeit a gentle one like someone standing in the doorway tapping lightly on the door with their knuckles. "Yang, is everything alright?"
"I should probably be asking you that, shouldn't I?" Yang asked as she straightened up. She couldn't get too lost in her own thoughts; she had a job to do, after all, and it might lead to more jobs afterwards if this went well. "But, if you don't mind, I'd rather ask you something else."
Amber rested her hands and her forearms upon the plastic table. Her hands were close together but not quite touching. "Ask me what?"
"What's it like, being special?" Yang asked. "What's it like being so important that everyone is always looking at you, thinking about you, everything is always about you? What's it like—?"
"Being hunted?" Amber asked. "Attacked? Wounded?"
Yang was silent for a moment. She could see … the scars on Amber's face were always there, but makeup covered them so well that it was easy to not notice them sometimes, or to forget about them. But then there were other times when they seemed to stand out more on her face, like they were flaring up or something, times when you couldn't ignore them. Times like now.
"Well," she murmured, "I guess it's not all good."
"And besides," Amber went on, "I would have thought that you could have asked Pyrrha what it's like to be famous. She is very well known, isn't she?"
"Yeah," Yang agreed. "Yeah, she is, but that's not really what I'm talking about; I'm not interested in what it's like to be famous, a celebrity. Pyrrha … I like Pyrrha, but she's not…" Yang struggled to wrangle her thoughts into some form of coherent order.
"Fame," she said, "isn't the same as importance. All the stuff that makes Pyrrha famous, the trophies, the 'noble blood' that the Mistralians care about, none of it — with the exception of the fighting skill that got her the trophies, I guess, but anyway — none of it matters. If Pyrrha disappeared — not that I want her too, obviously — it wouldn't really … it wouldn't change anything. It wouldn't change the world. You … people don't know who you are the way that they know who Pyrrha is, but at the same time, you're so much more important than she is."
Amber shook her head. "No," she said. "I'm not important at all—"
"You're important to me," Dove said, sliding his hand over to take hers.
Amber smiled. "And Pyrrha is important to Jaune, in just the same way," she reminded him as she took his head, their fingers intertwining. "And in a different way, important to Sunset also, and Ruby, but that isn't really what Yang is talking about. What Yang means, I think…" She looked at Yang again. "In the way you mean, I'm not important. I carry something important, something valuable and desired, but the worth is in the thing I bear, not in myself."
"I … guess," Yang admitted. "And I guess, in one way, Pyrrha is important: she was chosen by Ozpin to do his work for him."
"Is that what this is about?" asked Amber. "Do you feel … do you wish that Ozpin had chosen you?"
"He did," Dove pointed out.
"Yeah, eventually," Yang retorted. "He picked Team Sapphire to go and fight his enemies, he picked Pyrrha to—" She stopped herself, realising that Amber probably didn't know about the whole 'transfer Amber's aura to Pyrrha, definitely killing at least one and maybe both of them' plan. It probably wouldn't be a great idea to tell her, either.
"'Picked Pyrrha'?" Amber repeated. "Picked Pyrrha for what?"
"Oh, nothing," Yang said in what she hoped was a dismissive tone. "It's just, you know, Pyrrha, Sunset, they get to do stuff. Ozpin trusts them, even more than he trusts Ruby or Jaune. Certainly a lot more than he trusts me."
"And you want him to?" Dove asked. "You want him to trust you, the way that he trusts Team Sapphire?"
"Well … yeah," Yang said, as though that should have been obvious. "I mean, in a way, he trusts you more than he trusts me."
Dove laughed. "I don't think so."
"You don't?"
Dove hesitated for a moment. "Amber needs to have somebody with her, at all times, someone from an approved list chosen by Ozpin. That list includes you now, but it doesn't include me. I'm not trusted to keep Amber safe, although even Jaune is — alone."
"And does that bother you?" Yang asked.
"No," Dove said, although Yang wasn't entirely sure that she believed him. "I mean … if I'm being perfectly honest, it's a little bit grating that Jaune is now considered to be stronger than I am, given … well, you know, what he was like when the year began, but at the same time, Jaune helped me realise that getting upset about it wasn't going to make me stronger or keep Amber safe. And Amber's safety is the most important thing, isn't it?"
"Yes," Yang agreed. "Yes, it is." She took a drink of her coffee before it got cold.
"I have to say," Dove went on, "I'm a little surprised that it bothers you, being left out."
Yang's eyebrows rose, disappearing into the recesses of her bangs. "Really?"
Dove shrugged. "On our first night at Beacon, you told me that you didn't want to settle down, and your dream was to travel across the four kingdoms," he reminded her. "Serving Ozpin doesn't seem compatible with that."
"I wouldn't be so sure; I think my uncle gets around," Yang said, before she realised what she'd said. "Not like that … well, maybe it's like that too, but anyway … the point is … my point is … why them and not me? I'm pretty much as strong as Pyrrha is, stronger than Jaune or Ruby, and I could punch Sunset's lights out if I could close the distance with her. I'm a good team leader, even Professor Goodwitch thinks so. I guess I don't like the implication that I'm not good enough. Not worthy enough."
"It is no great thing, to be found worthy," Amber murmured. She reached across the table with her free hand, sliding her slender fingers over the black fingerless glove that covered Yang's hand. The sunlight glinted off the golden bangles on Amber's wrist. "Trust me when I say that it is no honour to be envious of." She smiled sheepishly, even as she looked down for a moment. "I am a … if I could have all of this time again, with Dove, to live simply, an ordinary life, unknown, no trouble to anyone, and all that I had to do was give up my burden? I would do it, in a heartbeat." She looked at Dove, and the smile that came upon her face banished the harshness of her scars. "Some things are more important than being important."
All very well for you to say, Yang thought, but nobody loves me either, so what does that leave me with? She didn't say that, though, because that wasn't Amber's fault and because it would have sounded kind of self-pitying too. Instead, she forced a smile and said, "Well, if simple is what you're looking for, then I'm sure Patch can oblige. Life's pretty simple there. I can't say that it's always peaceful in our house, but it is simple. Are you sure you're going to be okay, coming with us to lie low at our place for a while until Ozpin can find you something else?"
"I think it could be a good thing," Dove said, before Amber could speak. "Getting … away from it all." He put his other hand on top of hers. "Getting away from all of this … somewhere quiet and isolated." He smiled, although for a moment, it seemed as though his smile wasn't quite gonna reach his eyes, but it got there in the end. "Honestly, with what I've heard, it sounds a lot like home. And even more like Amber's home."
"Yes," Amber said softly. "Yes, I suppose it does. The cottage in the woods where my mother and I used to live, before…"
"I'd call it a cabin rather than a cottage," Yang said, "although … can cabins have more than one floor? Because we have two. We've only got one spare bedroom, but don't worry, I can share with Ruby, Amber can take my room, and Dove can have the spare room." She grinned. "Unless you'd like to sleep together."
Dove blushed. Amber's complexion made it hard to say if she was doing the same, but her whole body did go stiff and rigid as though she'd been shocked by some lightning dust. "I—" she began to splutter, before she hesitated, looking at Dove. "I … I mean … we could. If … if you wished."
Yang hadn't expected the conversation to take this turn; she'd just wanted to embarrass them a little bit and lighten the mood of the moment. Now, she found herself very quiet, not even breathing too loud in case she disturbed them.
Dove's eyes were fixed on Amber, blue points in an otherwise red face. But there was no embarrassment in his voice, only a certain uncertain trembling as he said, "You … you mean it?"
"I do," Amber said, sounding a little breathless, looking into Dove's eyes. For a moment, Yang was so put in mind of the answer to a different question that she wondered why Amber had replied like that, but of course, it did make sense.
Amber withdrew her hand from Yang's, brushing her fingertips across the tabletop as her hand made its way towards Dove, rising up his chest, stopping about halfway. Amber leaned a little towards him. "I … I don't know … I mean I've never," Amber murmured. "But I should like to. Would … wouldn't you? Wouldn't you like to … love me?"
"I would," Dove whispered, putting his arm around her shoulders. "I do. But … I mean, we're not—"
"You have my promise," Amber said, "and I yours. Is that not enough?"
Dove was silent for a moment. "It is," he said at last. "It will be."
They kissed, a very deep and, from what Yang could tell, judging by the way that their bodies pressed against one another, the way that their lips worked, the way that they seemed to be taking breaths as they kissed so that they could go on kissing; all in all, it seemed fair enough to say they were kissing a very passionate kiss.
Their bodies not just pressed against one another but starting to move.
As she watched, unable to take her eyes away, Yang felt a mixture of happiness for them, but at the same time, a sort of squirming discomfort in her stomach, a sort of … she didn't want to call it jealousy or envy or anything like that, but, well, as much as she didn't want to call it that, it kind of was.
After all, nobody loved her. Nobody wanted her.
That's not their problem though, is it?
No, no it isn't. They're happy, they've found happiness with one another; there's nothing wrong with that. They shouldn't have to pretend that they haven't just to spare my feelings.
Although, as she watched, as she couldn't help but watch, Yang began to wonder if they might not be getting a little too into it. When she'd suggested it, she certainly hadn't intended for them to start right now!
"Okay!" Yang said loudly, clapping her hands together. It was sufficient to get their attention; they jerked away from one another, both gasping for air a little, Dove's face still red.
"Well, that's certainly settled," Yang said cheerfully. "So, when we get home, the two of you can … well, you can take the spare room, can't you?"
"Your father won't mind?" Dove asked.
Yang shrugged. "Amber isn't his kid, so I doubt he'll care. And Uncle Qrow … Uncle Qrow can sleep on the couch, I guess. How does that sound?"
"It sounds … fine," Amber said softly. "It sounds … almost wonderful. If only…"
Yang leaned forward. "'If only' what?"
"Hey, you two!" Lyra called out as she and Bon Bon made their way towards the table. "We've been looking everywhere for you!" Lyra reached the table, Bon Bon just a step behind. It was only at that point that Lyra appeared to notice Yang's presence. "Yang? What are you doing here?"
Yang glanced up at Lyra. "Oh, you know," she said, "just hanging out."
"Fair enough, I guess," Lyra muttered. She took the last remaining chair, leaving Bon Bon to grab another chair from a different table. "So, what's up?"
Neither Amber nor Dove spoke. Dove leaned a little closer to Amber, drawing him towards her once again, while Amber's eyes darted towards Bon Bon, but neither of them spoke.
"Um," Dove mumbled. "Well, uh … you see—"
"We're leaving," Amber blurted out, the words leaping out of her mouth like animals running away from a forest fire.
Bon Bon frowned. "You mean … you're leaving sooner than you thought you would?"
Amber nodded. "As soon as the tournament is over."
"As soon … you mean you're leaving in two days?" Lyra demanded. "The day after tomorrow, you're going to be gone?"
"Yes," Dove said softly. "So it would seem."
"But that's … that's hardly any time at all!" Lyra exclaimed. "We didn't know that you were going that early; how are we supposed to throw a proper goodbye?"
"That's hardly the most important thing, is it?" Dove asked.
"It is!" Lyra exclaimed. "Or at least, it might be." She looked from Dove to Amber and then back again. "I mean … why?"
"Because of that girl who died last night," Yang said. "The Atlas student."
"The girl whose teammates were really upset, right," Lyra murmured. "But … what does that have to do with Amber? Why does that suddenly make Vale so much more unsafe that he has to whisk you away like this?"
"Ozpin, Professor Ozpin, is … protective," Dove said. "That's all."
Lyra didn't reply to that. Instead, she paused for a second before saying, "So … where are you going? Does this mean you have a place to stay?"
Amber looked at Bon Bon for a second, although Bon Bon hadn't said anything and didn't really seem like she was going to. She was staring at her hands with wide eyes, and she'd been like that ever since Amber had announced that she'd be leaving.
"We—" Amber began.
Yang cleared her throat. They probably weren't supposed to tell anyone about taking Amber and Dove to Patch. They were supposed to lie low there, after all.
"Nowhere permanent, yet," Dove said.
"But you're both leaving," Lyra said quietly.
"Yes," Dove declared. "I can't … I won't leave Amber's side again. Never again."
"'Never again,'" Lyra repeated. "But … are we ever going to see you again?" She glared at Bon Bon. "And are you going to say something at some point?"
"I…" Bon Bon stood up, pushing her chair back as she did so. "I have to go. I'll be back." She turned away and began to stride away without another word of explanation.
XxXxX
It no doubt seemed strange to those who knew — Sunburst, for one, and others in Atlas too — that Tempest Shadow wasn't up in the Amity Coliseum watching her two teammates battle for their glory and the glory of Atlas in the very first match of the second day of the tournament.
No doubt, they found it, if not strange, then at least very telling: a sign of her unsociable attitude, another indicator of the way that she didn't really fit in, that she wasn't a very good Atlesian, even if she was a pretty good huntress.
Well, let them think that; she'd be away from here soon enough, and free from all of them.
Soon, she would present the Relic of Choice to Salem, and then, she would be elevated so high. No more putting up with Trixie's nonsense; no more having to listen to Starlight telling her to knock it off, to play nice, to go along to get along; no more having to pretend to have the slightest shred of respect for Sunburst.
No more having to bear any of them. Trixie, Starlight, Sunburst, Twilight, Rainbow Dash, Neon Katt, Blake Belladonna, they were all utterly unbearable. How did they manage to be so awful?
If they weren't too loud, they were too cheerful, and if they weren't too cheerful, they were too noble; one way or another, they were all nauseating. Tempest didn't know how they could stand one another, or themselves.
Soon, she would be away from all of that. Free from them. Free from Cinder too, who — Tempest had come to realise — was every bit as bad as the Great and Powerful Trixie. They might not seem very similar, but when you scratched the surface, they were actually very much alike: each believing that they were following a star when, in truth, they were only guided by their respective delusions, both convinced that they were much more powerful, much more important than they actually were.
Cinder might actually be worse than Trixie, because for all her faults, at least Trixie lives in the present day. She might roll her rrrrrs too much at times and refer to herself in the third person, but at least she doesn't go around acting like she just stepped out of some musty old book or as though, by sheer effort of will, she can transform the world to fit her fantasies.
You had to live in the world that you … lived in. There was no other choice. You took the world as it was: cold, cruel, and unforgiving, a place of hatred, suspicion, and mistrust.
A place where they would always see her as something less than human, so she would make them less than her.
Gods, she hated this place. She hated Atlas, she hated her fellow students, she hated the way that people's eyes lingered a little too long upon her arm, she hated the way that the children who were, even now, starting to fill up the fairgrounds pointed at it and asked why she looked like a robot where she could hear, she hated the way that people obviously wanted to ask what it was like but didn't actually have the courage to ask.
She hated the way that they all acted like they were such good, close, loyal friends, as though they wouldn't drop any of their number the moment they took an injury like hers … just the way that her friends had abandoned her.
She'd like to rip Rainbow Dash's arm out of its socket and see how many fine friends she had left after that.
Not many, Tempest was sure.
It was a cruel world, and Tempest hated all the people who pretended that it wasn't.
But she would be gone soon. Out of their lives, as they were out of hers, she would be with Doctor Watts, who understood, who was sympathetic, who was appreciative, who alone in all of Remnant truly cared for her.
With Doctor Watts … and Salem.
When she brought Salem the Relic of Choice, she would be rewarded beyond her wildest dreams. For Sonata, the reward of victory would be freedom, but for Tempest, it would be … trust. A place at Salem's right hand, the place that would soon be vacated by Cinder as she left this living world behind and went to … wherever the spirits of the dead went in the Mistraliad, perhaps.
Tempest would take her place, a more competent and reliable servant than Cinder had ever been, to take the lead in the assault on Haven, or Atlas, or even Shade perhaps, wherever Salem commanded that the next blow should fall.
She would take the Maiden powers of Spring or Winter or Summer, and she would open the next vault and take the next relic without the aid of Sonata Dusk or Amber. And she would do it much more quickly than Cinder had managed — and without spending so much time sitting around in a house, either.
Tempest wondered idly if she should recruit some minions. No, no, unlike Cinder, she had no need of such; she could do it all on her own. Anyone else would just slow her down — or stab her in the back.
Well … perhaps it might be nice to have someone around. Someone unthreatening. Someone weak, someone who wasn't able to contribute anything but who could … amuse her upon occasion, someone she could talk to from time to time to stop herself from going mad in the confines of her own head.
Someone who could serve her as Emerald served Cinder, as a walking, talking sounding board.
Not Lightning Dust; Tempest wouldn't trust her once this mission was concluded. She would chafe under Tempest's leadership the way that she had chafed under Cinder's; she was another one whose ego outstripped her ability by some distance.
Tempest would … suggest to Salem that she should be sent away on a diversionary assignment; if Tempest was going to Haven, then Lightning would go to Atlas or Shade, to mislead Ozpin and the others as to their true intentions — and hopefully get herself killed in a way that wouldn't get any blood on Tempest's hands.
She was not such a monster that she enjoyed the prospect of murdering her own allies, after all.
Tempest was stood at the edge of the fairgrounds, where they trailed away towards the empty, quiet parts of the grounds. Unfortunately, she couldn't just take herself off to some secluded spot and wait out the day until all the crowds of tourists had gone; she had to be available in case something happened.
Something like whatever was causing Bon Bon to make her way over towards where Tempest lurked.
Tempest looked up, to where the Amity Coliseum hung in the skies over Beacon, with skybuses climbing up through the skies towards it, wings flapping lazily. Soon, it would all start, with Trixie and Starlight going up against Pyrrha Nikos and Sunset Shimmer.
Soon, Trixie's dream would be dead, or else, Ozpin would be revealed to have chosen very poorly.
Don't take it too personally, Trixie; all dreams die in the end.
It's just that the absurd ones die first, that's all.
Tempest lowered her gaze as Bon Bon drew near, although she affected to barely notice the other girl, presenting her side to her, not even turning her head.
"We have a problem," Bon Bon said.
"Only one?" Tempest asked insouciantly.
Bon Bon's mouth twisted as she seemed put off by Tempest's response. "Amber's being moved."
Now, Tempest looked around; in fact, her head snapped around because if Bon Bon was correct, then that was bad news. This had the potential to be very, very bad news indeed. Amber was everything to their plan; without her … without her, they were reliant upon Cinder once again, and that was not a prospect that filled Tempest with joy.
It would almost be more than she could take.
Worse than that, if Amber was moved away … there was always the possibility that she might change her mind, especially if she felt safe and danger seemed far off.
"Why?" Tempest demanded. "When?"
"I don't know why; Amber wouldn't say," Bon Bon said. "Or at least, she couldn't say with Yang breathing down her neck. They're spooked about something." She paused. "Do you think it could have something to do with—?"
"The dead student?" Tempest finished for her. "Possibly, but what? A murder has been committed, but what of that, what makes it more dangerous for Amber to be at Beacon now than it was yesterday? It doesn't make sense. She couldn't tell you why, but she could tell you that she was being moved?"
Bon Bon nodded. "She told me — and Lyra too — that she and Dove are going away as soon as the tournament is over. She would have told me where she was going, but Yang cut her off."
Tempest breathed a sigh of relief. "After the tournament, you say?"
"Straight after," Bon Bon insisted.
Tempest waved that off with her prosthetic arm. "It doesn't matter. Our business will be concluded with the tournament."
"It will?"
"Obviously, because I'll be leaving myself once the tournament ends," Tempest reminded her. "If we were not done then, I would be shipped back to Atlas." She paused for a moment. "Did she seem worried to you at all? About her impending departure?"
Bon Bon hesitated for a second. "I … I would say so, yes."
"Then go back and reassure her," Tempest said. "Tell her…" She paused while she searched for a discreet form of words that wouldn't arouse suspicion in Amber's minder, Yang — Yang; Tempest hadn't known that she was involved in this. "Tell her that things can change very swiftly and that's why it's important to always be prepared." She smirked. "And that goes for you as well."
Bon Bon swallowed. "Is it … today?"
"Tomorrow," Tempest said. It could have been done today, but Cinder — foolish as she was — wanted to let the tournament end first, and Tempest wasn't ready to move against her yet, not until she had the Relic in hand.
"Tell her," she instructed Bon Bon. "Tell her and bear it in mind."
"I will," Bon Bon said. She sighed and looked around. "I will," she repeated, more quietly this time, before she turned around and hastened off.
Tempest remained where she was, poised on the edge of the fairgrounds, poised on the edge of greatness, alone, watching all those whom she held in contempt begin to fill up the space just as they filled the skies with their annoying chatter.
Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow, I will get what I deserve.
XxXxX
Amber felt ill.
She wasn't sure if it was one thing or many.
She hadn't wanted to betray her friends. She didn't want to harm Sunset or Pyrrha or anyone else. She didn't want them to die in her defence, to stand between her and harm until there were none of them left, until they had all perished, one by one. Even though she had shown them the vault, it wasn't because she wanted them to go down into the dark to fight in her stead and possibly not come out again.
That wasn't what she wanted at all.
She hadn't wanted to betray her friends, she didn't want to betray them, but … but it didn't seem that there was any other way. She didn't want to betray anyone, but equally, she didn't want to be hunted all her life either. It was like she had said to Yang: if she could have all her time back to lead a simple life, and all she had to do was give up her powers, then she would take that chance, without needing to think about it.
She couldn't give up her power, but she could give up the Relic of Choice, and that was just as good when it came to freeing her from all of this, lifting the threat of Salem's malice off her shoulders.
Salem's threat, but not Cinder's.
Cinder would not leave her alone just because Amber had given up the Relic of Choice. Cinder had … stolen half of her magic. It wasn't something that they talked about, it wasn't something that she had told Dove, it wasn't something that Sunset or Pyrrha or even Ozpin had ever brought up. Nobody ever called her half a maiden, nobody ever made mention of the fact that she only had some of the magic left — they were all very kind in that regard, to spare her feelings so — but Amber could feel it, within herself.
There was … an emptiness inside of her. A hollow that had once been full. It was like … it was like being permanently tired, her heart pounding in her chest as though she'd just completed some strenuous exercise. It was like always feeling as though she had overdone it, and that if she kept on pushing herself, then she would falter and collapse.
Amber wondered if Cinder felt the same as she did, if she struggled with the magic she had stolen, if she felt tired even without doing anything? Or perhaps the thief had it easier than the person she had stolen from.
Cinder's threat had not been lifted by the bargain that Amber had made with Bon Bon. Cinder would not be satisfied with the Relic. Cinder would want all of the magic; she would want to reunite both halves and become the undisputed Fall Maiden.
If not, then Bon Bon and her friends wouldn't have been planning to kill her. But they were; they were going to kill her because they wouldn't need her anymore once they had the Relic; they didn't need the Fall Maiden's magic, and they didn't need a would-be Fall Maiden, so they were going to throw her away.
In that way, Amber thought, Salem and Ozpin were very similar: they used people for their own purposes, consumed them, ruined them, and cast them aside for someone else, and the whole process started again.
I suppose that means that Cinder and I are similar too.
It was almost enough to make Amber feel sorry for her.
Not quite enough, because Cinder had attacked her, scarred her face, stolen her magic, put her in a coma, and was the reason why Amber had not felt quite right since waking up, but it was almost enough.
Cinder chose this; I didn't.
Cinder had chosen this, and she would choose to attack Amber if she had the chance, regardless of what agreements Amber had made or promises she had had from Bon Bon.
Amber felt that they could have killed Cinder already, but of course, she knew why they wouldn't; Bon Bon … she hated Bon Bon. She could barely stand the sight of her now. Lyra was a dear, a true friend to Dove, always so pleasant, so cheerful, so earnest and genuine with her feelings, and with such a lovely voice as well, but Bon Bon? She was just another Ozpin, hiding evil behind a kindly smile.
Bon Bon didn't really care about Amber, and because of that, she was perfectly willing to let Cinder wander around so that Amber would remember that she was there and why she needed to be a good girl and hand over the Relic of Choice.
Amber glanced at Dove. She knew … no, she suspected, because they hadn't talked about it, but she suspected that he saw going to Patch as a way to get out of the bargain that she had made: go to Patch, hide where she couldn't be found, let them whistle for their Relic.
Don't betray anyone. She could understand why he thought that way, why he wanted it. It was … certainly tempting. Go to Patch, stay with Yang and Ruby and their father, love Dove. Do nothing. Stay hidden. Wait for Ozpin to find somewhere else to bundle her off to, and then wait there, staying hidden, shut up in some secluded place, hoping that Dove didn't start to chafe at the confinement and blame her for it, hope that his love would be strong enough to stand against the strain of isolation.
Not that tempting after all.
It was all very well to say now that all they needed was one another, that they would sing like two birds in a cage, and in the walls of Ozpin's prison would outlast scores of valiant warriors, brave Sunsets, and noble Pyrrhas cut down in Ozpin's active service. But was it true? Would it really be true? Could even true love stand up to such? She hoped so, but she did not want to condemn Dove to a life that he would come to hate, nor suffer him to hate her for the condemning.
And besides, even if Dove understood all of that — and he probably did not, because Amber's understanding was only complete enough to perceive the darkness that lay before them — then he did not understand the danger that they faced. He understood that she had been attacked, and now he understood why, but not what power drove on the attack; he didn't understand that it was so much more than Cinder, and so much worse. He didn't understand that it was an enemy who would outlast them all, who could never be beaten. An enemy who would never stop until … until she had all four relics in her possession.
The other relics are better guarded, and the other Maidens too. How will she get the Relics of Creation, Destruction, or Knowledge? Opzin already keeps the other Maidens as confined and hidden as he wished to keep me, and so he keeps the Relics safe.
He can afford to lose this one.
She did not regret her choice, even as she felt ill in her stomach.
This … this was … she hoped that she could get the Relic away and into the hands of Salem's followers without bloodshed. If she could do that, if she could make it so that nobody had to die, then wasn't that a good thing? Wasn't it better to lose a crown than to lose the lives of Sunset, Pyrrha, all these people here at Beacon, Ruby, Jaune, Ciel, Blake, Penny — Yang too! What was a Relic that they should die for, or a Fall Maiden, for that matter?
They might call it betrayal, but if by a single act of treachery she averted a bloody battle and saved not only her own life but the lives of many others too … was that not a noble thing, by some lights at least?
She did not want anyone to die for her, nor did she want to die for the world. Therefore, she chose this path. It was not the most upright path, and she would not pretend that she didn't understand why it made Dove uncomfortable, but it was the best path available to her.
Amber truly believed that.
This move to Patch … as tempting as it might be — for Dove at least — to go along with it and hope to get away from their enemies, for Amber, who had a better idea of how implacable those enemies were … she knew why Bon Bon had left in such a hurry, but she didn't know what Bon Bon planned to do about it. If she assumed that she was attempting to break the terms of her agreement and escape, then … then Cinder might be loosed on her in truth like a tiger. If she assumed, correctly, that this was an unfortunate circumstance caused by Ozpin's caution, then … what would she do? She might still decide it wasn't worth abiding with Amber.
Or she might accelerate her plans.
It would have been so much easier if they could have talked about this openly. Amber didn't mind Yang, she seemed a nice enough person, and that had been a very good idea of hers, that she and Dove should consummate their affections soon, but all the same, Amber rather wished that she would leave, so that she and Bon Bon could get on with things.
So that she could assure Bon Bon that she wasn't trying to get out of anything, that she could be trusted if only Bon Bon would bear with her.
"I don't know what's gotten into her lately," Lyra said.
"Who?" Yang asked.
"Bon Bon!" Lyra declared. "She's gotten downright squirrely lately, always sending me away or wandering off or slinking around corridors talking to weirdos."
"'Weirdos'?" Yang asked, a touch of amusement in her voice.
"Well, Atlas students, which is the same thing a lot of the time, but don't tell Rainbow Dash I said that," Lyra said. "The point is, she's been acting more strangely lately."
"She has been through a lot," Dove pointed out.
"I know that," Lyra said. "We've all been through a lot, and anyway, this is after that. I'm not talking about how she was after Sky died, I could understand that even if I didn't like it, this is more … it's more recent. I don't know. I love her, but there are times I feel like I don't understand her."
"I'm sure you'll understand, eventually," Amber said. "And when you do, it will all make sense."
"Hmm, maybe," Lyra murmured. "I hope you're right." She looked up. "Speak of the beowolf, where have you been?"
"Around," Bon Bon said as she sat back down again.
Lyra's eyebrows rose. "'Around'?" she asked, her tone inviting Bon Bon to continue.
Bon Bon nodded. "Around," she repeated.
Lyra scowled. "You can't just get up out of nowhere, stomp off without saying a word, then come back and refuse to say—"
"Lyra," Bon Bon said, cutting her off. "I had to go because … because I was upset, about Dove leaving so soon, and Amber." She looked at them, more at Amber than at Dove, despite what she'd said. "I'll be sorry to lose you," she said. "I'll be sorry to say goodbye to both of you."
Liar, Amber thought. You just want what I can give you.
"I get that, I'm sorry too," Lyra said. "There was no call to be rude about it."
"I was surprised, and I needed to go for a walk to think about it," Bon Bon said. "I've grown very attached to Amber in the little while we've been together."
There was a part of Amber that wanted to roast her alive. The fact that someone like this had been so close to Dove, had made him think that she was his friend, had comforted him in her absence … it made her skin crawl.
She hated the fact that she needed Bon Bon's help.
"And … what did you think, when you were walking?" Amber asked quietly.
Bon Bon hesitated for a moment. "I think … it's the way things are, sometimes," she said. She looked Amber right in the eyes, unblinking. "Things can change so suddenly, when we least expect. That's why we always have to be prepared for when they do."
Meaning that they are moving ahead, and swiftly, Amber thought. That's what she's telling me. They will try and take the relic before I leave.
Good. I can be free then, and Dove and I can go where we will, with no one to trouble us.
The sooner it is done, the better.
Will it be tonight?
"Because we weren't able to go last night, and because I'd still like to have a little fun before I leave, Dove was going to take me to the carnival tonight."
"Oh," Bon Bon said. "That sounds nice. I hope you have fun there, and stay safe."
Not tonight then. Tomorrow.
And tonight…
Amber wasn't just going to the carnival for the fun of it. She had wanted to go, she had wanted to enjoy herself, the music, the dancing, the colours and sounds, all of it, but now … she was afraid of Cinder, she was afraid of the fire, afraid of the anger, afraid of the cruel look on her face as she had stood over Amber and started to steal her magic away. There was a part of Amber — the same part of her that wanted to roast Bon Bon — that would have welcomed the chance to cross paths with Cinder again: to wound her as Amber had been wounded, to scar her face, to pay back tenfold every injury that Cinder had inflicted upon Amber. But that part of her was outweighed, outnumbered, and outvoted by the part of her that was afraid that the result of the second contest might turn out even worse for her than the first.
No, Amber wouldn't have dared to venture out with Cinder abroad except … except that Bon Bon needed her.
Salem needed her.
And because they needed her, they would have to see that she was well protected.
Even if that meant killing Cinder and giving her the security she craved.
XxXxX
Overall, Emerald thought that she had done a pretty good job with her disguise.
The fact that she was in Beacon and hadn't yet been killed or arrested seemed to suggest that she had a right to feel that way.
Of course, this wouldn't really have been possible outside of the tournament. Under normal circumstances, under ordinary circumstances, Emerald wouldn't have dreamt of coming back here, and she would have told Cinder that it was a fool's hope to think that she could.
She would have told her regretfully, but firmly nonetheless. If it had been only students here, then she would have been spotted at once, and for that reason would have refused to go.
But it was not only students here today, and Emerald had gotten off the skyliner with the other tourists and walked right down the road and now she stood in the courtyard, with that old black statue of the huntsman and huntress looking down on her as though they were the only two people in the world — or at Beacon right now — who knew who she was.
It was the tourism that allowed that; quite apart from the crowds themselves, which were easy to hide in, the sheer number of people around the school — around certain parts of the school, anyway — meant that the facial recognition on the Atlesian androids, which they used to scan and match faces against the registered Beacon IDs, had been disabled; otherwise, they would have been going off incessantly, with potentially messy consequences. For that reason, the risk of being identified by a robot had been lifted from Emerald's shoulders.
Which meant that the only risk that she ran was running into someone who recognised her as Emerald Sustrai, Cinder's accomplice — and that was what the disguise was for.
The circus surrounding the Vytal Festival tournament was a big help — a great help, it was a great help in that regard; she had to keep remembering to choose the right words in her head, or else, she would forget to use the right ones in public. Ladies said great, not big; at least, they did some of the time.
The circus surrounding the Vytal Festival tournament had been a great help to Emerald in disguising herself to sneak back — to waltz back, rather; there was not a lot of sneaking involved in stepping off a skyliner onto the docking pad — onto campus. She could hardly believe that you could buy accessories, or even full costumes, to dress up as these losers.
Wait, that wasn't phrased in a particularly ladylike manner either, let her try something else … Emerald could scarcely believe that all manner of accessories and outfits pertaining to these … pathetic oafs — these errant nuisances — were available to purchase from all good retailers.
But available they were, as Emerald had quickly found out as she had hunted through Vale looking for the means of disguising herself. You could buy wigs that supposedly would make you look like Pyrrha Nikos, Yang Xiao Long, Blake Belladonna, Rainbow Dash, even Sunset Shimmer; now who would want to dress like Sunset Shimmer, of all people?
Well … as it turned out, Emerald did. She had stolen an official licensed Sunset Shimmer wig from a costume shop — shoplifting was very straightforward when there were no other customers around; it was just a matter of making the clerk think that you had handed over the lien, then he would ring you up, hand you a receipt, and you could walk out the door and be out of sight before he realised that actually, no, you hadn't paid him anything; with a bit of luck, you wouldn't even have to break into a run — a leather jacket and a pair of biker boots from a thrift store, and a pair of jeans and a purple top from a low end department store. It wasn't a perfect costume — it didn't have Sunset's symbol anywhere on it — but it did look like the sort of thing that someone who didn't have a ton of money to spend might come up with if they wanted to dress up like Sunset Shimmer.
Although why they would was a mystery to Emerald.
Although, to be perfectly honest, Emerald did not hate Sunset. She even … she felt as though she understood the other girl now, better than she had done; it couldn't be easy being the voice of wisdom to a Mistralian who was over-obsessed with that one bloodthirsty book and had a head full of ludicrous notions in consequence. It couldn't be easy watching someone you cared about who seemed determined to destroy themselves and who would do it no matter what you said to try and persuade them not to.
No, that wasn't easy at all, and Sunset had Emerald's sympathy in that regard.
Perhaps that was why she had chosen to dress up as Sunset, rather than Pyrrha or Blake, because Sunset was the one closest to her own temperament in that regard; at least, Emerald had thought she was. That was certainly the impression that she had gotten in their one real conversation in preparation for Cinder's duel with Pyrrha.
She hadn't liked Sunset up until that point — she still didn't like Sunset very much, and they were still enemies — but at the same time, there had been a connection there between them, two people condemned to watch because they lacked the power to change.
Although it seemed that, since then, Sunset had changed something very, very big, if Cinder was right. She had brought Amber back from the … not back from the dead, but back from the almost dead, which was still pretty … still rather impressive.
Emerald couldn't imagine how she'd done it.
What else might she be capable of?
Let's hope I don't find out.
The other reason, the more important reason, why Emerald was dressed as Sunset rather than anyone else was that it was, all told, a pretty low key outfit. Certainly, it was not as flamboyant as Pyrrha's corset and armour, as idiosyncratic as Blake's tailcoat and tights, as attention-grabbing as Yang's outfit. It was low key, at least to an extent, although that was offset in part by her hair.
Still, bright colours aside, even the wig was helpful because it changed the shape of Emerald's face to anyone looking at her, and who had only seen her with her hair tied up in twin tails before, the way the wig framed her face would cause it to look a little different.
And just to help, she was wearing green coloured contact lenses. Technically, they were 'Pyrrha Nikos contact lenses' intended to make your eyes look that very bright and beguiling emerald shade, as opposed to Sunset's eyes which had a bit more turquoise in them. But it was a change from Emerald's own red eyes and decreased the likelihood that she would be recognised.
Not that she intended to take any chances; she would keep well out of sight of anyone who might recognise her.
That was why she was lurking kind of— lurking ever so slightly, rather — as she watched Amber.
Emerald was standing half-hidden behind a holographic advertisement for Pumpkin Pete's; Pyrrha's face kept flickering in front of her, occasionally making her lose focus. If Amber had been trying to get away from her, then it might have been enough for Emerald to lose track of her, but as it was, Amber wasn't going anywhere. She was sitting at a table with Yang Xiao Long, a boy and a girl whom Emerald couldn't assign names to … and Sweetie Drops, or Bon Bon, whichever you wanted to call her.
Emerald appeared to be looking at her scroll; she had it open in front of her and had her head bowed down as though she were looking at it, but her eyes were truly fixed on Amber, and Bon Bon.
Bon Bon who was supposed to be on their side. And yet who had said nothing of Amber being awake.
Bon Bon was sitting there, with her, and yet, Cinder had had to find out from the TV news.
Emerald was starting to feel herself getting irate about it until she remembered that Bon Bon hadn't known — didn't know — about the Fall Maiden. She hadn't been part of the operation to obtain Amber's power, and she hadn't been told about it afterwards either. She didn't need to know any of that.
Perhaps she needed to know now?
Emerald considered it, but that consideration foundered upon the risks of trying to approach her without being identified by Yang or someone else; plus, there was the fact that Bon Bon had not exactly been a reliable asset for them lately.
Or ever.
No, Emerald would not approach her. She would not take the risk. After all, she was only here to observe Amber — she didn't even have her weapons with her, not that they would have done her much good — and nothing more. And she did not need Bon Bon's help for that.
So she would watch, and be discreet, and report to Cinder anything of interest.
XxXxX
"Here we are then," Swift Foot said, settling down into an armchair. "Day two."
"Yes, well, one day does tend to follow another," Terri-Belle muttered as she, too, took a seat in front of the television. "At least today, there are only five matches of interest."
Swift Foot looked at her out of the corners of her eyes. "You could at least pretend to be enthusiastic."
"I am very enthusiastic," Terri-Belle replied. "I'm also very busy."
"With what?" Swift Foot asked. "No huntsmen came to see you yesterday looking for missions."
"All that means is that the missions are piling up on my desk, and there will be a great flood of huntsmen looking to take them soon enough, or at least, I hope there will, or there will be a great many people in danger or disappointed throughout the land of Mistral." She paused for a moment. "And besides that, do you think that my titles as Captain of the Imperial Guard and Warden of the White Tower are merely for show? Do you imagine that I do nothing all day?"
"I know that you have duties," Swift Foot replied, slightly defensively, like a hedgehog curling up for protection against the teeth of Terri-Belle's offence, "but I didn't think that any of them would be occupying you right now; I mean … it is a holiday throughout the whole city."
"And yet, life goes on," Terri-Belle murmured.
A silence descended between the two sisters for a moment, companionable enough but a silence nonetheless.
"How … how are the huntsmen taking it?" asked Swift Foot. "Having you for their employer and no job board?"
"I am not their employer," Terri-Belle corrected her. "I am merely the facilitator of their employment, a sort of talking, breathing job board."
"Very well," Swift Foot conceded. "How are they taking that?"
"With good cheer in some quarters and much grumbling in others," Terri-Belle muttered. "Professor Lionheart came to seem me the day before yesterday, to tell me that several eminent people had come to him with their concerns that I was hoarding power, that I might be unduly influencing huntsmen on what jobs to take, that I might be choosing which missions went to the top of the pile."
Swift Foot blinked. "What did you tell Lionheart?"
"Professor Lionheart," Terri-Belle said gently. "And I told him to go back and tell them that if they really thought I was behaving improperly, they could make those accusations publicly; if not, then let them keep their opinions as well as their names to themselves."
Swift Foot crossed her legs, resting her left foot upon her right knee. "I'm not sure I believed that really happened."
Terri-Belle frowned. "You think that I am making it up to … what? Aggrandise myself by appearing defiant?"
"No, I believe that Lionheart—"
"Professor Lionheart."
"He's not my teacher."
"Yet," Terri-Belle said.
"Then when I am at Haven, I will call him Professor," Swift Foot said. "Until then … I believe that he came and talked to you; I'm not sure I believe that anyone talked to him. Certainly not eminent people. Why would they? He's a faunus—"
"Let's not have any of that sort of talk," Terri-Belle said reproachfully.
"You know what I mean," Swift Foot insisted. "In this city … you've told me yourself how people look down on him, because he's a faunus, because he's useless—"
"Professor Lionheart is not useless," Terri-Belle declared. "He cares for his students and their wellbeing, he is a first rate counsellor — and a good counsellor besides. He gave me much good advice when I was a student there. That Haven has been unlucky under his leadership is his bad luck also. Besides, why would he lie to me about it?"
"I … I don't know," Swift Foot admitted. "Maybe he doesn't like what you've decided but wanted to attribute it to other people instead of himself. Has anyone had the nerve to come to you with their own problems?"
"Some," Terri-Belle said, "mostly huntsmen who find coming up to see me to be an unwanted imposition compared to a job board. I am sorry for the inconvenience, but I would be more sorry to lose more huntsmen because someone is passing out mission information to a huntsman killer." She shook her head. "In any case, no problems that are not surmountable, thank goodness, or I would certainly not be sitting here. But I am here, and I hope that Haven will do well today."
"Haven or Mistral?" asked Swift Foot.
"Both," Terri-Belle said. "Pyrrha Nikos, yes, but of the Haven students? Arslan Altan; Councillor Ward's son, Cicero the Younger; two children of Titus Andronicus; a Vasilias of Argus; if we cannot make some victories out of such a company, we deserve to close down Haven and withdraw from contention out of shame."
"We could have said the same yesterday, about the likes of Jason and Meleager," Swift Foot pointed out.
"True," Terri-Belle admitted, "but the fact remains that there are some good raw materials remaining to us; hopefully, they can make victories out of it." She paused. "Did you watch these Atlas students yesterday?"
Swift Foot nodded. "It was while you were gone."
"What are they like?"
"I thought they were a lot of fun," Swift Foot said. "Their leader, Trixie, is vain and showy, but in a good way." She chuckled. "The Great and Powerful Trixie!"
Terri-Belle gazed at her younger sister with slightly narrow eyes.
"What?" Swift Foot asked. "That's what she calls herself."
"Really?" Terri-Belle muttered. "Standards must be going down in Atlas. Robyn Hill never engaged in any such nonsense."
"She's playing for the crowd," Swift Foot replied. "Or at least I think she is. And besides being entertaining, she and her team were very good yesterday. And yes, they were only up against a Shade team, but—"
"Honestly, I don't think we have any right to look down on Shade Academy, considering our record," Terri-Belle said.
"No," Swift Foot admitted. "Which isn't—"
"Bad luck," Terri-Belle insisted. "Not an indictment."
"If you say so," Swift Foot said. "But, in any case, whoever their opponents were, Team Tsunami did well yesterday. I honestly think you'll be glad you watched this."
XxXxX
"I wish Pyrrha was fighting someone else," Diana grumbled gently from where she and her sister lay on the floor like two cats staring up at the television in front of them.
Selene looked at her. "Why?"
"Because Trixie was funny," Diana explained. Selene had gone for a nap and so missed that fight, but Diana had stuck around for it and been rewarded. "I don't want her to get knocked out."
Selene pouted. "Traitor!"
"I still want Pyrrha to win!" Diana squawked. "And she will. I just wish she was beating someone else, that's all. I don't want my favourites to fight each other."
"What about Arslan?" Selene asked.
"I can have three favourites," Diana said. "Like … my favourite fruits are apples, grapes, and satsumas."
"They're not real favourites; there are too many of them."
"Are not!"
"Are too!"
"Are not, there's only three!"
"Well, I'm still rooting for Pyrrha," Selene said primly. "Because I know that she's way better than your boring old Trixie. Go Pyrrha! Go Pyrrha! GO PYRRHA!"
"Settle down in there!" Mom called from the kitchen.
XxXxX
Leaf held the Snowburger bag in her mouth as she fished her scroll out of the pocket of her green coat and used it to open the door of her apartment.
The door slid open, revealing Veil sprawled out sideways on the sofa, holding her scroll up in front of her face with one hand.
She scrambled upright as she heard the door slide open, looking at Leaf. "Did you get everything?"
Leaf made a wordless noise out of her mouth and shook her head a little to emphasise the rustling brown paper bag in her mouth. She stepped in the doorway and heard the door slide shut behind her.
She put her keys into her pocket so that she could take the bag out of her mouth. "Yes," she said, "I got everything." She put the coffees down first, two big cups in a cardboard cupholder. "One black, one white with extra sugar." Then she put the paper bag down. "One sausage and egg snowmuffin, one bacon and egg snowmuffin, two hash browns, and a bag of mini pancakes."
"You are amazing," Veil said, opening the bag up — it rustled some more — and lifting out the bag of mini pancakes, which didn't look much like pancakes at all as far as Leaf could see — more like nugget-shaped globs of batter — as well as the plastic tub of maple syrup.
"You know, I really don't like giving that place my money," Leaf complained as she shrugged off her coat and threw it onto the back of the sofa. "On account of, you know, the fact that they kidnapped me and made me a slave."
"That was the SDC, not Snowburger," Veil countered, without looking up.
Leaf flopped down onto the settee. "Snowburger is part of the SDC. Or at least, it's owned by the Schnees."
"Yeah, but they're like … a subsidiary or whatever," Veil replied. "It's all different managers, different people; I mean, it's not like they had you enslaved flipping burgers in a fast food place."
Leaf exhaled audibly out of her mouth. "I don't like giving that family my money."
"Hard not to in this city," Veil said. "Who do you think we're paying to watch TV?"
"SDC owns the cable company?" Leaf demanded, her eyes boggling.
"No, SDC owns the power company; it's why we have electricity," Veil corrected. She paused. "Although they might own the cable company as well; I'm not sure. But, anyway, you're the one who didn't want to go to Patty's."
"The nearest Patty's is a whole floor up," Leaf moaned, "and—"
"You can't walk that far because you smoke too much," Veil finished for her.
Leaf glared at her. "No, I was going to say that it would all be cold by the time I got it back here. Besides, so much of the stuff from Patty's has a weird taste, I don't like it. I'd go to Burger Bar, but that's even further away."
"We do live in a bit of a fast food desert," Veil admitted. "I think it's because when you live in an apartment as nice as this, you're expected to be the kind of people who do at least some of their own cooking."
Leaf blinked. "So, you're saying that if we had a crappier apartment, we'd have more dinner choices?"
"I'm saying one of us should probably learn to cook," said Veil.
"Not it!" Leaf called at once. "I don't need to eat much anyway." But she got out her snowmuffin regardless, because she needed to eat something, and the morning was when she was generally hungriest, because she hadn't had a single cigarette yet. "So, what were you looking at when I came in?"
"Oh, nothing, just looking at the news," Veil said. "You could tell it was a quiet day because a lot of it was about yesterday's tournament, all the stuff we already watched. They were trying to talk up Trixie and Starlight too."
"Yeah, they might be good, but Sunset's better," Leaf declared. "Sunset and that Pyrrha girl, they've got this."
"I hope you're wrong about that," Veil said. "I know that you're friends with her and all, but Atlas didn't do as well as everyone thought yesterday — that was in the news as well—"
"They got four wins, out of eight matches," Leaf said. "Isn't that good enough?"
"Not for Atlas," Veil said. "Not for some people around here, anyway. I'd like to see us get some more wins in today, even if it does mean your friend has to get in the bin."
Leaf huffed. "Well, if I'd known that," she said, "I wouldn't have brought you breakfast."
XxXxX
Saphron popped the bananas into the blender and pushed the button. The blender stirred to life at once, whirring loudly as the individual bananas disappeared into a yellow blur, splattering in parts upon the plastic jug, spinning round and round in an ever less coherent-looking, ever less recognisable paste.
Adrian, sitting in his high chair, covered his ears with both hands. He liked what came out of the blender but wasn't so thrilled about the sound that it made to get there.
Saphron wasn't in love with it either — it would have been great if they could have come up with a quiet version — but it was something that she had learned to put up with over time.
And besides, it never lasted too long; why, even as she thought that, the blender came to a stop, the whirring, screeching sound dying.
Saphron turned the device off before she lifted the plastic jug off the white stand with the motor in it and lifted up the lid to reveal the yellow mush that was, colour aside, completely unrecognisable as banana.
And yet, despite not being recognisable, the puree still looked pretty good.
"You know, instead of freezing it, I might have some of this myself with a yoghurt or something," she declared.
Terra walked in from the living room. Her glasses had begun to slip down her nose; she pushed them back up again.
"You want to have the same breakfast … as our baby?" she asked.
"No," Saphron said as she started to spoon the banana puree out of the jug and into a bowl for Adrian; there were cartoon snowmen in hats and scarves having a party on the bottom of the bowl, but they swiftly began to disappear beneath the yellow puree that Saphron doled out onto their smiling faces. "Adrian is going to eat this on its own. I'm going to have it as an accompaniment to something else." She looked at Adrian over her shoulder. "You don't mind sharing with Mommy, do you?"
Adrian nodded his head.
"He doesn't know what he means," Saphron said.
Adrian opened his mouth and pointed into it.
"He certainly knows what he wants," Terra replied, a touch of amusement entering her voice. "I think that you should put what's left of the banana in the fridge — where we have those strawberries going soft if you want to puree something for us to go with a yoghurt."
"I suppose they do need eating before they go off," Saphron conceded as she reached into a cupboard for a plastic tub to hold the rest of the banana puree. "Once I've got the puree out, can you wash this while I feed Adrian? Or you can feed Adrian, either way. The point is, if we work together, then we can get everything done and our own breakfast ready without missing any of the next match." To Adrian, she added, "We don't want to miss any of Auntie Pyrrha's next match, do we? Do we?"
Adrian shook his head vigorously.
"I remember when you were certain that the black haired girl was his girlfriend," Terra said.
"And I remember when you recognised that the red-haired girl was a famous Mistralian celebrity and didn't say anything," Saphron remarked pointedly as she finished spooning the last of the puree between Adrian's bowl and the plastic tub.
Terra chuckled softly. "If I had told you, would you have expected Jaune to chase after a celebrity who was out of his league?"
Saphron hesitated for a moment. "Would it make me a horrible big sister if I said 'yes'?"
"Perhaps a little bit of one, yeah," Terra said. "I'll wash up and get started on the strawberries. You feed Adrian."
"Will do," Saphron said, planting a kiss on Terra's cheek as her wife walked around the unit, and around Adrian's high chair, to stand beside Saphron, facing the sink. She grabbed Adrian's bowl and a little blue plastic spoon and walked towards Adrian with a big smile on her face. "Here comes the airship, Adrian!" she said, spooning some of the puree onto the spoon. "Open wide?"
Adrian gurgled in happy anticipation as he opened his mouth very wide indeed.
"Wheeeeeee!" Saphron said as she steered the spoon by a slightly winding course into his mouth. Adrian's mouth closed around the spoon, and there was scarcely a trace of banana puree left of it when Saphron pulled it out from between his lips.
"There you go!" Saphron cried, spooning out some more puree. Behind her, she could hear the sound of running water gushing from the tap.
"My dad sent me a text," Terra said. "He told me that he knows that Pyrrha is your brother's boyfriend, but he's never met any of your family—"
"We should probably do something about that," Saphron murmured. It was unfortunate, but she'd chosen to get married to Terra before introducing her to her family, for fear that … well, for fear that they would treat Terra the way that they had treated Pyrrha, to be perfectly honest, and try to break the two of them up. Also because she'd been a little afraid that if she brought Terra home without a wedding ring on her finger, then she might lose her nerve at the last minute and ask Terra to pretend they were just roommates or something. Anyway, the point was that although Terra's parents had been at their wedding, her family had not, and the two halves of the Cotta-Arcs had never met at any subsequent point, either.
"The ball is in your court on that one," Terra replied calmly, her voice raised only to be heard over the sound of the running water. "Anyway, the point is, as much as Pyrrha is dating your brother, he's still rooting for the Atlesians."
"He had to tell you that?" Saphron asked, putting the spoon back into Adrian's mouth, which gleefully closed around it.
"He had to tell somebody," Terra said. "And he couldn't tell Mom."
"Of course not," Saphron said, smiling. Terra's father was an Atlesian, a CCT technician — now retired — who had come to Argus to work on the tower; her mother, on the other hand, was a Mistralian, Argus born and bred, and proud of it. "I take it that's why he texted you instead of calling."
"Mm-hmm," Terra agreed. "He's setting himself up for so much disappointment, of course."
"You're not worried, then?" Saphron asked.
"Are you?"
"Those Atlesian kids were pretty good yesterday."
"Arslan Altan is pretty good, at the least," Terra said. "Cicero Ward is pretty good. Jason, Meleager, Oceana the Mermaid Knight, Vespa the Wasp, they're all pretty good, and do you know what they all have in common? Getting their butts kicked by Pyrrha Nikos. And it will be the same way here too, take my word for it."
"Because a princess of the old blood will conquer her enemies?" Saphron asked. "You are your mom's daughter, aren't you?"
"It's a family tradition," Terra acknowledged. "But it's also just a fact. I love my dad, but there's no way he's going to get what he wants out of this fight."
XxXxX
"Here you go, love," Mrs. Macready said, setting a bowl of porridge down on the breakfast table in front of Plum Pole. "Best eat up before Miss Shimmer's match with Miss Lulamoon and Miss Glimmer starts."
"Thank you," Plum said, smiling. Mrs. Macready had already laced the porridge with lashings of honey, which she — picking up a spoon with a wooden handle — began to stir in. She looked up the table to where Doctor Diggory sat, eating from his own bowl of porridge. "Doctor?"
Doctor Diggory glanced up, "Yes, Miss Pole?"
"The Vytal festival, the tournament," Plum said, "it's to celebrate peace, isn't it?"
"Exactly," Doctor Diggory said. "It is now eighty years since the Great War — and no, I am not quite so old that I remember it," he added, chuckling a little, "— and every two years, a great celebration in one of the four kingdoms to rejoice at the fact that peace between the kingdoms has prevailed ever since."
"But they celebrate it by making people fight one another," Plum said, "even friends like Sunset and Trixie and Starlight. It doesn't seem very peaceful."
"You've hit the nail on the head, dearie," Mrs. Macready declared. "I've never understood it myself."
"It is…" Doctor Diggory paused for a moment. "It is because peace is maintained not only through goodwill and mutual understanding — although that is a part of it, and that is celebrated too as part of the broader festival; that's why Miss Lulamoon and Miss Glimmer, although they are from Atlas, were here in Vale to help defend us when we needed it, and Miss Doo, as well, a Haven student — but because of the bravery of young huntsmen and huntresses like Miss Shimmer, Miss Lulamoon, and Miss Glimmer. The tournament is a celebration of them, a chance for those who didn't require to have their village saved by them to know who they are, and to see and to appreciate their skill."
"I … see," Plum replied. "But still, I think it must be quite hard fighting against your friend."
"In a real fight, I'm sure that it would be," Doctor Diggory replied. "Thankfully, I've never had the experience myself. But this is a tournament, it is only … play fighting, you might say. Nobody gets hurt, and nothing is won or lost. Nothing is at stake but pride and bragging rights. They may be friends, and they have fought together in the face of real danger, but today… today I imagine will be quite a fun diversion for all of them.
"Or at least, we must certainly hope it will; it would be a terrible shame for them to fall out over something so trivial, having been through something so momentous together."
XxXxX
"You bet against Pyrrha?" Juturna said.
"Yes, I did," Lausus replied.
"You bet against Pyrrha?"
"I think I just said that."
"You bet against Pyrrha?"
"Are you having trouble hearing what I'm saying?" asked Lausus, tilting his head a little to one side. "Are you going deaf?"
"You bet against Pyrrha?!" Juturna yelled.
Lausus recoiled. "Okay, just because your hearing is going is no need to act as though mine is."
"My hearing is fine," Juturna said, "I just can't believe it. You bet against Pyrrha?"
Camilla stepped out into the corridor in which Juturna and Lausus stood. "What's going on?"
"Lausus bet against Pyrrha," Juturna said.
Camilla's eyebrows rose. "You bet against Pyrrha Nikos?"
"Why does everyone keep repeating that?" asked Lausus.
"Because it's stupid," Juturna declared. "Listen, I don't like Pyrrha very much—"
"Juturna," Camilla murmured reproachfully.
"What?" Juturna demanded, turning around to face her. "I'm not going to pretend that I like her when I don't. If she were to get taken down a peg or two, that would be fine by me." If she were to die, that would be fine by me as well, but you know. "But I'm not going to bet against her. I've put money on her to win this whole thing."
She regretted saying that as soon as the words had passed her lips. Camilla frowned and folded her arms.
"With what money?" she asked.
Juturna licked her lips. "With my … credit card, that my brother gave to me and which I can…" — she shuffled in place — "spend however I like."
"Within reason," Camilla reminded her. "You know that my lord would not approve of gambling."
"He might not disapprove," Juturna suggested. "Especially if he never finds out about it."
"Juturna—"
"Don't say it like that; you weren't supposed to find out either," Juturna insisted.
"Why would you, though?" asked Lausus.
"Oh, you're asking me that as though you haven't bet against her?" Juturna said, rounding on him.
"Yeah, I bet on the Atlas pair because you can get twenty-eight-to-one odds on it," Lausus replied. "If this comes in, I'll be rich! I'll be able to buy back our house from that damned upstart caravaneer who's been squatting in it. I can get my father his pride back, I can … put my mother's bones back in the family crypt where they belong."
Camilla's arms fell down by her sides as she walked forwards. "Lausus … how much did you bet on this improbable victory."
"Only my lien," Lausus said at once. "Not my father's."
"That is not what I asked," Camilla pointed out softly.
Lausus chewed on his lip a little. "Most of what I had saved away."
"Lausus," Camilla sighed.
Juturna reached up, putting her hand on his arm, just below the silver honour band. One finger just brushed against the cold metal. "You know … you know that it…" She hesitated. "It's not likely to happen. In fact, it probably won't. You know that, right?"
Lausus was silent for a moment. Then it was his turn to sigh, raggedly, his body bending as far as his cuirass would allow. "I am proud to be a Rutulian warrior, and to serve Turnus, and to fight alongside you, Camilla. The friendship that this family has offered to mine, even after our disgrace, is a gift that I cannot repay. But that doesn't mean that it doesn't shame me, to be reduced to the status of a retainer, to see the even greater shame stooping my father's shoulders, to be cast out of our house, out of society, to have our name turned to mud. If there is a chance to change that, to regain all that we lost, shouldn't I take it? Am I not obligated to take it?"
"And when the bet fails, you will have even less than you did before," Camilla murmured. She walked towards them both. "I … do not begrudge you your desires, but … I fear this was not wise."
"Probably not," Lausus admitted. "But then I've never been a particularly wise fellow. And, frankly, as much as I wouldn't dream of taking any other work than this, I'll never make enough to restore my family's status on the salary and bonuses that my lord pays me."
"What's this?" Turnus asked, as he walked up the corridor, approaching the group from behind Lausus. "What's going on?"
"Nothing," Juturna said. "Nothing at all, we were just—"
"Lausus has made a rather foolish wager," Camilla said softly.
Turnus stopped mid-stride. "Is that so?" he said softly.
Lausus clasped his hands together behind him. "Yes, my lord. I've bet … fifty thousand lien on Trixie Lulamoon and Starlight Glimmer to win this match that is about to start."
Turnus was silent. He stared at Lausus, his eyes unblinking, unmoving. "'Fifty thousand lien,'" he repeated quietly. "That … what was that as a proportion of what you had available?"
"Most of it," Lausus admitted. "There's some in stocks and the like, but they haven't been doing very well recently, either."
"I've told you, you should use my broker instead of investing in every 'next big thing' that turns out to be anything but," Turnus muttered. He paused for a moment. "It is all your own money, you didn't borrow from anyone else?"
"No, my lord," Lausus said. "I wouldn't do that. I'm not so much a fool."
"I'm glad to hear it," Turnus said. "Assuming that you don't suddenly come into a fortune very shortly, I'll give you twenty-five thousand lien by the end of the day. That should enable you to conceal the fact that you're broke from your father and anyone else. You can pay me back, little by little, over the next few years."
Lausus gasped. "My lord—"
"We wouldn't want you to have to gnaw on the crust of humility now, would we?" Turnus asked. "Where would we be without your peacock's feathers brightening up the place."
Lausus let out a little laugh. "You're a real pal, my lord … Turnus."
Turnus allowed the use of his name, this time anyway. "I hope so," he replied. "I try to be." He clapped his hands together. "Now, if that was the only thing that you were discussing—"
"It was, my lord," Camilla said, for which Juturna was very grateful; she wasn't sure if Turnus would have been as nice to her about this as he'd just been to Lausus.
"Then we should probably head in," Turnus said, "and witness Lausus lose his bet."
Lausus sighed. "Very probably, my lord."
XxXxX
"So, Dad," River said, as she sat down on the couch, "is there anything else different between today's matches and yesterdays, or is it just that there are only two fighters instead of four, so we've seen the last of Jaune already?"
"There are four terrain types today," replied Gold Arc, sitting down on the sofa next to her. "Not just two like there were yesterday."
Kendal was sitting on the arm of the couch already, so she was able to look over River's head down at their father. "So … the number of fighters goes down, but the number of different environments goes up?"
"That's the way it is," Gold said.
"But with only two-on-two," Kendal said, "do they all get used?"
"No," Gold said, "but I guess that's not the point; the point is that all the huntsmen who are on the field get more choice, more chance to play to their strengths — or to their opponents' weaknesses. At least, that's my best guess as to why things are the way they are."
"They could have done that and still kept four huntsmen on each team," Sky grumbled, from where she sat at the foot of the settee. She had to turn her head and crane it to look up at everyone.
"It's like Ozpin said—" Gold began.
"Yeah, Dad, I know what the old headmaster said," Sky replied before he could finish. "But that doesn't change the fact that I would have liked to have seen more of Jaune. Wouldn't we all like to have seen more of Jaune?"
"Not according to the messages on this livechat," Aoko murmured. She was crouched beneath Kendal, at the side of the sofa, and just like yesterday, she had her laptop open on her lap.
"I meant all of us Aoko; nobody cares what the random people on your computer think," Sky declared. "And can't you put that away and watch on the new TV with the rest of us?"
"This way, I can watch and work," Aoko said. "Miss Rockshaw has assigned me to join a new tiger team brainstorming ideas for innovative gear of use for a small huntress."
Kendal frowned. "Why a small huntress? Why not a big huntress, like Pyrrha or Jaune?"
"I don't know," Aoko said. "Maybe the big ones don't need the help."
Kendal rolled her eyes.
"I understand what you mean, Sky," Rouge said, sweeping out of the kitchen, the doors flapping shut behind her. She had a tray of steaming hot pastries in her arms, and she didn't miss a beat in stepping over Sky's leg. "It would have been nice to get some more of Jaune, considering how much he's improved."
"You know, I'm not sure that 'improved' is the right word," Kendal said.
Sky looked up at her. "Why not? He was awful, now he's better. He's improved."
"Except that he wasn't awful, was he?" Kendal replied. "Jaune was … I don't think you can say that he was bad when he hadn't been shown or taught to do anything and didn't know what he was supposed to be doing. It would be like saying that I'm bad at … bookbinding, or illustrating comics. I'm not bad at either of them, I don't do them—"
"But if you did try and do them, you would probably be bad at them," Rouge said, "just like… well, just like Jaune was bad when he tried to become a huntsman, by his own account. And then, thanks to Pyrrha, he got better. He improved, like Sky said."
"I suppose," Kendal conceded. "But most people are going to be bad at something when they try it for the first time, and the reason why he'd never tried it before is because of us! If we had—"
"If Jaune had known what he was doing when he went to Beacon, then maybe he wouldn't have met Pyrrha," River pointed out. "These things have a way of working out for the best."
Kendal snorted. "Sometimes they do, Mrs. Happily Married with a Kid on the Way. Other times … oh, it doesn't matter. Let's just watch Pyrrha's match. And pass me one of those pains au chocolat; they smell really good."
XxXxX
"So, here we are," Vice Principal Luna declared. "Canterlot's prodigal daughter versus…" She paused for a moment. "How does one describe Trixie?"
"Not the favourite daughter, nor the brightest star," murmured Principal Celestia, "and yet, nevertheless, a bright star in the sky. Call her … Canterlot's Surprise, for Trixie does have a way of surprising people. Even me, upon occasion."
Luna chuckled. "If she wins this match, she will shock most of Remnant, I think."
"Having taught both Sunset and Trixie," Celestia said, "I, of course, do not have a favourite. That would be very inappropriate."
"Oh, of course, sister," Luna said, a smile playing upon her features.
"I don't," Celestia insisted.
"And I agreed with you."
"With your words, you agreed," Celestia declared. "Not with your tone or that smirking expression on your face."
"This is my resting face," Luna protested.
"Then exercise it," Celestia told her. "I don't like the look of it when it's resting."
"I'm sorry," Luna said. "I didn't mean to bother you."
But the smirk remained upon her face regardless.
XxXxX
Up in Councillor Cadance's box, Kali Belladonna sighed.
Four of Blake's friends pitted against one another, who am I supposed to root for?
If I knew who Blake was rooting for, I could root for them. But I don't.
It is what it is, I suppose, but nevertheless … I wish the tournament had thrown up a different result when selecting the matches.
XxXxX
Lady Nikos winced a little at the pain in her leg as she sat down in her private box for the second day of the games.
The arena beneath her was full up, the common stands heaving with people, their noise buzzing upwards to reach her.
It would have been like being in the Colosseum in Mistral, but the games in Mistral were not quite so … commercialised.
Not that there was not, unfortunately, a commercial element, but in Mistral, it was at least not common for people of all ages to dress up as their favourite warriors to watch the tournament. That sort of behaviour was reserved for FanFight Expo and other such events which it was Pyrrha's duty to attend for the sake of her public image, but in the arena itself, a more rarefied atmosphere prevailed.
It was to be regretted that such was not the case here. Although it was to be rejoiced at that Lady Nikos was set so high up above the stands that she could scarcely see the offending outfits.
Nevertheless, she was aware that they were there, and it was somewhat irritating. This was a festival, and games held at a festival were — or ought to be — sacred. This was not only the grandest tournament in Remnant, but a tournament in celebration of peace, or — as they would have put it in Mistral of old — a celebration in honour of the goddess Concord. There ought to be — deserved to be — a degree of solemnity as part of that.
But then, even in Mistral, there was less solemnity around the tournaments than there had been once — it was a strange thing, but in some respects, the games that most preserved the sacred character of the arena were the impromptu tournaments held in celebration of someone's wedding, by virtue of their link to the solemn nuptials — what chance that there would be any solemnity at all in Vale, a kingdom that could scarcely be called solemn in any way?
And yet, here she was, despite all her complaints.
Despite all her complaints, she would not have missed this for the world. Not for the restoration of her ancestral throne would she have stayed away.
Lady Nikos gripped the handle of her walking stick tightly.
Come, Pyrrha, she thought. Show the world what Mistral's glory was in the days of old.
Show them what it means to be our Evenstar.
XxXxX
"Does it bother you that Blake isn't here?" Penny asked.
Ruby looked at her. There was an empty seat next to Ruby in the competitors' stands where she and Penny sat — Ruby had reserved it for Jaune, who would be joining them shortly — but all the other seats around them were taken up with Mistralians: Arslan, Bolin Hori whom Sunset had defeated, the members of Team JAMM who had been beaten by Team RSPT yesterday, the team whom Ruby thought were the ones that Rainbow and Ciel would be fighting later on, and the ones that Yang and Nora were going to be facing later on as well. It wasn't quite fair to say that every Haven student competing in the tournament was crowded in here with them — there was no sign of Sun or Neptune, although she could see Sage and Scarlet a little way away — but it was certainly most of them.
And judging by the way in which the ordinary seats behind them were taken up with Haven students in black uniforms — so that you could tell immediately that they were Haven students and thus from Mistral — it certainly seemed as though they'd made an effort to present a united front.
Ruby wondered if possibly Lycus' accusation at breakfast had had anything to do with that; Team JAMM had led the way in getting behind Pyrrha then; maybe they'd decided to show their support tangibly.
Although given that Ruby hadn't seen the death reported anywhere, she wasn't sure how many people would really get it.
Still, it did feel different than it had done yesterday, when they'd been watching with all their friends.
It felt a little weird, sitting here surrounded by all these Haven students, like an island of Beacon-ness, an island of Valishness, an island like Patch in the middle of a sea of strangers.
But did it bother her? And did it bother her specifically that Blake wasn't here?
"No," Ruby said. "No, I don't think it bothers me; why should it?"
"Because she's supporting Trixie and Starlight," Penny explained. "Not Sunset and Pyrrha."
"More fool her," Arslan muttered.
Ruby ignored her and focussed upon Penny. "I mean, it's her choice. It's not like she killed someone."
Penny blinked. "You … don't care at all?"
"No," Ruby said. She smiled. "Just like no one cares that you're supporting Pyrrha and Sunset — except for Pyrrha and Sunset; I'm sure that they appreciate it a lot."
"Your norderlust friend can support who she wants—" Arslan began.
"Our what?" Ruby asked.
"'Norderlust,'" Arslan repeated. "It's a word we have in Mistral for people who are entranced by Atlas. They think it's so cool and modern, so they end up dressing Atlesian, going to live in Atlas to find out how cool and modern people live. And sometimes, they end up going to Atlas Academy, because it's—"
"'Cool and modern'?" Ruby guessed.
"You're catching on quick," Arslan told her. "And we call it 'norderlust.' Where we don't just call it something much ruder. I mean, at least your friend doesn't have more money than sense, so she's got that going for her, but other than that—"
"Blake doesn't think Atlas is cool or modern," Ruby pointed out. "She thinks they're righteous."
"That might be even worse," Arslan muttered. "Anyway, my point is, she's in for some disappointment." She grinned. "All of Atlas is in for some disappointment."
XxXxX
"Thanks for joining me up here," Maud said, in that reserved, soft-spoken tone that she had. "I appreciate it."
"No problem," Sunburst said enthusiastically as he sat down beside her. "We wouldn't dream of leaving you out, right, guys?"
"No, of course not," Rainbow declared, as she took the seat next to Maud on the other side. "What, did you think that we were going to sit down in the competitors' section and leave you sitting up here all by yourself?"
"We wouldn't do that," Sunburst agreed. "Not to an honorary member of Team Tsunami."
Rainbow made a kind of choking sound that made Blake wonder for a moment if she was alright. "An honourary— what are you talking about? Maud was on my team for a whole year; she doesn't need to be an honourary member of Team Tsunami."
"But I don't mind," Maud said, without sounding particularly pleased about it.
"Well … if you don't mind, then I guess it's okay," Rainbow muttered, squirming in her seat and causing some popcorn to spill out of her bucket.
Blake smiled ever so briefly out of one corner of her mouth, so briefly that there was no chance at all of Rainbow catching sight of it.
"No need to be jealous, Rainbow, darling," Rarity said. "There is plenty of room in Maud's heart for you and Trixie, I'm sure."
"I'm like a dolomite," Maud declared.
A moment of silence followed.
"Uh," Applejack said, "Maud, for the benefit of those of us who ain't geologists—"
"Dolomite is a very porous kind of rock," Twilight said. "So … Maud can absorb a lot of love?"
Maud nodded. "And like a rock, I have … difficulty in release."
"Don't say that, Maud!" Pinkie cried. "You know you shouldn't talk about yourself that way."
"Pinkie's right; there's no need to put yourself down," Rainbow said.
Especially when the rest of the world will be so quick to do it for you, Blake thought.
"If you want to be an honourary member of Team Tsunami—" Sunburst began.
Rainbow made a quiet wordless growling noise. Nobody took any notice.
"You have to believe in yourself," Sunburst went on. "Like Trixie! She always believes in herself, and it helps all of us to believe in ourselves too."
XxXxX
As Starlight and Trixie waited in the tunnel below, they could both hear the sounds from the crowd above them, from all the people waiting in the stands, filling the floating Amity Coliseum. The ones who were cheering already, the ones who were singing, the ones who were just chattering away while they waited for the fight to start — for the first fight to start.
All of that noise was just blurring together, forming a buzzing sound that was making the corridor tunnel vibrate around them; as she leaned against the metallic wall, Starlight could hear it humming a little behind her.
So much noise, echoing down to them where they stood in the shadows, waiting.
So why was Trixie standing there with her head down, her magician's hat casting a shadow over her face so that Starlight could barely see it?
"Trixie?" Starlight asked. "What's up? And don't say 'nothing' because I already know that's a lie."
Trixie raised her head just a bit, although not too much; the brim of her hat was still casting a shadow over it, but at least Starlight could see her blue eyes now, if only a little.
"A lot of cheering out there," Trixie said quietly.
Starlight grinned. "Yeah, that's what surprises me, honestly. I thought it would have had you stoked."
"Yeah, well," Trixie murmured.
Starlight peeled herself off the wall and crossed the tunnel, standing much closer to Trixie now. "Well … what? You know, you were a lot more peppy yesterday."
Trixie glanced towards the end of the tunnel, outside into the light, where the field of battle was waiting for them. "How many of those people out there do you think are here for us?"
Starlight blinked. "Is that what this is about? I don't know, I haven't polled, but I think we've got a fuller house than we did yesterday, and I'd say that we made a good impression on the crowds with our four on four fight."
"But still," Trixie said, "everyone … come on, Starlight, everyone thinks that we're gonna get our asses kicked out there. Even Rainbow Dash and Blake and the others, they all think it too; they're just humouring us by pretending that we have a chance—"
"I think we have a chance," Starlight said.
"Now you're humouring us," Trixie muttered.
"Hey," Starlight murmured reproachfully, as she raised a hand to Trixie's cheek and chin, cupping Trixie's pale cheek with her dark hand, at the same time as she tilted Trixie's chin upwards, forcing the other girl to look at her. "That's not fair. Just because the odds are against us, just because a lot of other people think they know what's going to happen out there before it happens, just because of who we're up against, that doesn't mean that we don't believe in us. I believe. I believe with all my heart, and with all my heart, I know that our friends believe in us as well, no matter what you think. And I believe all of that because…
"You know, all of this, the crowds, the cheering, being on TV, this ought to terrify me. I never wanted to be in the spotlight, I always hated being under pressure, but when I'm with you, it's like none of that matters. I can go out there and do my best, and I don't feel the eyes on me or the weight of expectations, but at the same time, I feel like we can't fail because we're Team Tsunami, the team led by the Great and Powerful Trixie, the leader who never gives up and who always believes in herself! And because you believe so strongly, so passionately, all the time, I can believe too: in you, in me, in us. I believe," she grinned, "so it would be great if you could believe too, or else, I'll feel really stupid."
Trixie looked up at Starlight — not that she had much choice — and as she looked up, a smile spread across her face.
"I do believe," she declared. "I believe that we can do this." She put her hand on top of Starlight's. "Sorry, I guess I just let it get to me for a second there."
"Not a problem," Starlight assured her. "Pyrrha may be a champion, but we're not rookies ourselves. And we have magic on our side." She winked.
"You got that right!" Trixie cried. "Now let's get out there and kick some ass!"
Starlight chuckled. "That's my Trixie."
XxXxX
"So, how are you two feeling about this?" Jaune asked.
He was standing in the tunnel with the two of them; soon, he would go and leave Sunset and Pyrrha alone to face this next challenge before the crowds, but for now, he was here with them, embraced in shadow so that no shine reached his armour from the light coming in from outside.
"I must confess I feel … confident," Pyrrha said. "Moreso than yesterday, though I know that I probably should not."
"You felt nervous yesterday?" Sunset asked. "You didn't let on."
"Not … nervous, exactly," Pyrrha murmured. "But rather … the fact that it was the beginning of the end, or at least the beginning of an end, weighed upon me. But now, the end has begun, and we are in the middle of an ending, and as a result … it weighs upon me not at all, strange as that may seem."
Sunset snorted. "It makes sense," she said. "Sort of, anyway. As for me … they're good, no doubt about that, but I don't have to beat Trixie; I just need to keep her busy long enough for you to deal with Starlight, and then you can deal with Trixie." She smiled. "I wish I knew what semblance Starlight would be using, though."
"Whatever semblance she has borrowed, I will adapt and deal with it," Pyrrha declared. "The semblances of one's opponents, like their choices in weapons, are simply things that one learns to work around."
"Glad to hear it," Jaune said. "I mean that's great to hear, I mean it's good that you're not—"
"Jaune," Pyrrha said gently, a touch of laughter in her voice, "you sound more nervous than we do."
Jaune laughed nervously. "Well, I mean, not about the fight, but … you see…"
"Take your time," Sunset said, a smile playing across her face. "After all, Professor Port and Doctor Oobleck haven't even announced the second day of the tournament yet."
Jaune sighed, a wordless murmur dropping from his lips. "You see…" he said again, scratching the back of his head with one hand. "This is actually all Amber's fault, when she asked about me wearing this sash, the same as you, it … I guess it got me thinking that maybe, I don't know, maybe you could … maybe I could … it took me a while to think of something but…" He took a deep breath as he reached into his pocket. "Pyrrha, I know that your outfit is, like, really well put together already, but all the same, I thought that, maybe you could wear this."
Out from this pocket, he produced a strip of golden silk, too neatly severed to have been torn off anything; rather, it looked as though it had been cut with scissors, perhaps from a bolt of fabric.
Pyrrha smiled, and chuckled while she smiled, covering her mouth with one hand. "Is that what you are so nervous about? Oh, Jaune, that looks lovely, and I'd be delighted to."
Jaune's cheeks flushed a little. "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds like—"
"It would sound like that no matter how it was put," Sunset interjected.
Pyrrha held out her right arm, that bore neither honour band nor vambrace upon it. "Would you mind tying it around my arm for me?"
"Uh, sure," Jaune said. "Above the elbow or below?"
"Above, please," Pyrrha said softly.
"Right," Jaune said, and he wrapped the silk around her arm above elbow and glove, so that Pyrrha could feel the softness of the fabric upon her skin.
As he tied it, and Pyrrha felt the slight tightening of the fabric around her arm, felt the knot pressing gently upon her skin, Pyrrha asked, "Where did the silk come from?"
"Oh, um," Jaune hesitated. "Well, you see, it took me a while to think of something because I don't really wear a lot of yellow or gold, even though it's kind of in my name, and my hair isn't long enough for me to cut off some you could wear, so—"
"Why do I get the impression that I might not like the answer to this," Pyrrha murmured.
"I cut off some of the inside lining of my dad's suit," Jaune explained. "He gave it to me after the anniversary party, said that it didn't fit him anymore but it looked good on me. I thought about cutting off some of the outside, but then that would have spoiled the look of it—"
"So you decided to ruin the inside instead?" Pyrrha asked.
"Is it really ruined, though?" Jaune asked her in return. "Nobody is going to see the inside of it, are they? At least people are going to see it now, right? I mean, what do jackets even have insides for, anyway?"
"I am sure that there must be a reason," Pyrrha said softly. "But … thank you, Jaune, I'm very flattered." She cupped his face with one hand — her left hand — and leaned forwards to kiss him on the lips, tickling his tongue with hers before she pulled away. "I shall bear it proudly."
Jaune stared at her for a moment, his eyes into her eyes, his eyes that were so very blue and very beguiling. Then he took a step backwards, looking from Pyrrha to Sunset and back again. "Have fun out there," he said. "You're gonna do great, I know it."
"We know it too," Sunset agreed. "But thanks anyway."
A voice as if from the heavens boomed down amongst them, the voice of Professor Port amplified by his microphone.
"WELCOME, one and all, to the second day of the Vytal Festival tournament!"
The cheers of the crowd were redoubled or more in volume; they would have leapt so high as to strike the clouds were it not for the fact that they were already up amongst the clouds by virtue of the Amity Arena.
"I should get up to my seat," Jaune said.
"Go," Pyrrha told him. "You will be with me, nonetheless." Her hand rose to the strip of silk that he had wrapped around her arm.
He beamed brightly and nodded, and then turned away, jogging back down the corridor, towards the outer ring of the arena, and thence up into the stands to watch her — watch them — fight.
Sunset shook her head. "You two are…" She trailed off. "Anyway," she said. "Just think, one more fight, and you'll be rid of me and have the field of glory all to yourself."
Pyrrha laughed as she shook her head. "I am not anxious to be rid of you," she said. "On the contrary, I … well, it occurs to me that we have never fought together thus, you and I. We have fought as part of the team, the four of us, but we have never fought just the two of us against two opponents."
Sunset was silent for a second, her eyes rising upwards to suggest that she was thinking about it. "It wasn't against two opponents, but we were the last two left against that mutant deathstalker."
"I'm not sure it counts, considering that Jaune and Ruby were with us then, even if their auras gave out before ours did," Pyrrha pointed out.
"Good point," Sunset admitted. "Such a good point that it makes me wonder if I've made a mistake with this selection."
"I do not believe you have," Pyrrha declared. "As I say, I look forward to fighting by your side; or rather, since in many respects you have always fought by my side, perhaps I should say that I look forward to drawing swords together with you against a foe. It seems perverse that I should have done so with Cinder Fall, my enemy, but not with my best friend. We shall find our way to victory, I have no doubt."
"No doubt," Sunset agreed. "After all, while we may not have drawn swords together, it isn't as though we don't each know how the other fights. I'll keep Trixie off your back, you have my word."
"And I will defeat Starlight Glimmer," Pyrrha agreed. "You have my word on that." She paused a moment, the smile remaining upon her face. "This will be fun, will it not?" she said. "I hope that it will be, even as I feel perhaps that I should not wish for something fun, on the day—"
"You owe her nothing," Sunset declared. "Her death … she was your enemy and would have sent you to your death given the opportunity; she has no right to cast a pall over you this day or any other day."
Pyrrha glanced downwards. "I would have been friends with her and had her love."
"She would not be friends with you, nor give her love," Sunset replied. "That being so, put her from your mind. Today is … this is your time, not a time to grieve for one who hated you. Whatever the manner of her death, you cannot be obliged to weep for her." She reached out for Pyrrha. "Let us go, and either yield great glory up to Starlight and Trixie, or else win great glory for ourselves, and have a lot of fun either way."
Pyrrha smiled and placed her hand into Sunset's outstretched open palm. "Let us go," she said.
"We are now ready to begin the two-on-two rounds!" Doctor Oobleck declared excitedly. "As you'll remember from yesterday, each victorious team selected just two of their members to go forward to fight in today's matches!"
"Yes, but repetition doesn't do any harm, Doctor," Professor Port declared. "Now, kicking off today with a bang, we have two pairs of fan favourites who impressed the crowd with their performance. Can Sunset Shimmer and Pyrrha Nikos, and Trixie Lulamoon and Starlight Glimmer, please make their way out into the arena?"
"Looks like we're up," Sunset said. "Are you ready?"
"Absolutely," Pyrrha said.
Sunset let go of her hand and turned to lead the way out of the tunnel and into the light of the arena — the light of the world beyond the shadows. The cheers of the crowd grew even louder, and Pyrrha could hear snatches of 'Three Lions on a Shield' competing with the cheers, and with the sound of Mistralian hunting horns blowing amidst the press of the crowd.
They walked across the metal surface of the arena, no terrain having been selected yet, and stood in the central hexagon.
Of their opponents, there was yet no—
An explosion of blue and purple smoke erupted in front of them, spilling out from the other side of the hexagon. And when the smoke cleared, there stood Trixie, her arms thrown out and upwards, her starry cape billowing around her, and Starlight Glimmer in her synthetic-looking Atlesian armour, staring at Trixie with a fond smile upon her face.
"The Grrrrrreat and Powerrrrrrful Trrrrrixie has arrived!" Trixie declared to the world as certain sections of the crowd began to cheer louder for her, just as other parts of the audience had redoubled their volume for Pyrrha and Sunset.
Sunset rolled her eyes. "So dramatic."
Pyrrha glanced at her. "Did I hear you call someone else 'dramatic'?"
"Yes," Sunset replied. "What of it?"
"I say this with love," said Pyrrha, "but I don't think either of us have any grounds to throw stones on that account."
"And after that unorthodox entrance," Professor Port said, "all our contestants are now assembled: Sunset Shimmer and Pyrrha Nikos of Beacon!"
Still more cheers, even as the terrain indicators began to whirl around and around — for the two-on-two round, the terrain would be divided four ways, not two as had been the case in their first round match.
Pyrrha would have rather fought on the flat as was the Mistralian custom, but it was what it was.
And even in Mistral, the arena is not without its novelties. I still remember that naval battle to commemorate the anniversary of the conquest of Thrace where they flooded the arena and floated wooden ships upon the water.
"Trixie Lulamoon and Starlight Glimmer of Atlas!" Professor Port declared. Trixie swept her hat off her head and bowed low to the crowd.
The holographic icons for the various different terrain types came to a halt one after the other: lava and geysers behind Sunset and Pyrrha, forest and ruins behind Trixie and Starlight.
The metallic surface that Sunset and Pyrrha had so recently crossed disappeared as quadrants of terrain, smaller than the halves over which they had previously fought, emerged from out of the depths of the Coliseum.
Trixie produced a slender white wand from somewhere on her person, twirling it between her fingers.
"Just because you're some far-famed tournament champion, Pyrrha Nikos," she said, "don't expect either Trrrixie or her glamourous assistant—"
"Ahem."
"—partner to just lay down and let you take the victory without a fight," Trixie concluded, correcting herself without missing a beat.
Pyrrha smiled as she pulled Miló and Akoúo̱ over her shoulders, settling into a ready stance with Akoúo̱ held before her and Miló, in spear form, drawn back for a thrust. "I'm glad to hear it."
Starlight also pulled her weapon over her shoulder. In its gun mode, it resembled a standard Atlesian rifle such as General Ironwood's soldiers used, except for the glowing blue line running down the barrel indicating it did not fire bullets.
And Pyrrha already knew from having seen Starlight fight Ruby that it could transform into a polearm.
It occurred to Pyrrha that, while Sunset was wondering whose semblance Starlight had borrowed for this fight, neither of them had speculated that she might try and copy one of their semblances, possibly even while denying it to Pyrrha or Sunset.
After all, Arslan had worked out what Pyrrha's semblance was from her match with Cinder; why not Starlight also?
No matter; Pyrrha would not let Starlight lay a hand on her.
"Three!" Professor Port cried, his voice booming out across the arena.
"Two!" Doctor Oobleck shouted.
"One!" roared Professor Port. "Begin!"
Pyrrha started forwards, the sunlight glinting off her polished greaves and cuisses, her red sash beginning to stream out behind her as she took the first steps of her charge toward Starlight.
Starlight raised her rifle — if Pyrrha had heard the name, she shamefully did not recall it — and, even as she began to advance slowly towards Pyrrha with a careful tread, she opened fire, blue bolts of energy erupting from the muzzle of her gun to fly towards Pyrrha.
Pyrrha leapt aside, rolling on her shoulder along the grey surface of the central hexagon; she came up onto one knee and flung Akoúo̱ at Starlight. Pyrrha didn't wait to see if the shield struck home or not; she charged right behind it, Miló gripped in two hands now but still drawn back for a thrusting stroke.
Starlight dodged the flying shield, darting aside, twisting her body at the waist to let Akoúo̱ fly past her, but in that moment, she ceased firing, and a moment was all that Pyrrha needed to close the distance between the two. Teeth gritted, she thrust Miló forward to smite Starlight on the breast.
And Starlight vanished, disappearing into whiffs of smoke that dissipated instantly, as though Miló were a fan blowing them all away.
Of Starlight Glimmer, there was no sign.
So, it was Blake's semblance, then.
A wise choice, Starlight Glimmer.
"Those of you watching who also watched yesterday's battle between Team Iron and Team Bronze—"
"And why weren't you watching all of yesterday's matches?" asked Professor Port, with a degree of asperity entering into his voice.
"—you may be thinking that you recognise the move that you just witnessed," Doctor Oobleck said. "Starlight Glimmer's semblance allows her to temporarily borrow or steal semblances — only one at a time — from others and make use of them herself. It appears that she has borrowed the semblance of Blake Belladonna of Beacon's Team Iron."
I wonder if you will reveal my semblance the moment I make use of it, Doctor, thought Pyrrha.
If so, it cannot be avoided, I suppose, and I will have no grounds to complain of unfairness after Ciel and Starlight were thus so rudely outed.
And besides, I only concealed my semblance for an advantage in the tournament, and that circuit is behind me now. So … say on, Doctor Oobleck, I suppose.
Pyrrha held out her arm, and Akoúo̱ flew back onto it, landing smoothly upon her vambrace.
She looked around and could still catch no sign of Starlight Glimmer, which made Pyrrha think that she had gone to ground either in the forest or the ruins, since Blake's semblance didn't allow one to disappear for long stretches of time. She would have become visible to the eye the moment Pyrrha dissipated the clone, unless, of course, she were out of sight by more conventional means.
Blake's semblance. A very good choice.
Amongst her peers, there were two students whom Pyrrha … not feared, but felt a certain amount of caution or wariness towards the prospect of fighting, on account of their semblances: Blake and Weiss. That was not to say their semblances were the only things that made Pyrrha cautious of them — they both had many fine martial qualities — but their semblances were both, each in their own way, particularly tricky.
Yet neither of them were rendered invincible by them, any more than Pyrrha was.
Speaking of 'invincible,' she had to wonder why Starlight hadn't shot at her yet.
Pyrrha risked a quick glance across the battlefield, to the lava field where Sunset was locked in battle against Trixie, who seemed to be shooting what looked like magic of her own from the tips of her fingers.
Could she be a unicorn from Equestria as well?
There would be time enough to wonder about that later; for now, Starlight was her opponent, just as she and Sunset had agreed before the battle began.
So why haven't you fired at me, Starlight? I'm standing right here.
Since Starlight would not be so obliging as to reveal herself with a burst of fire, Pyrrha would have to make a choice: the forest or the ruins?
Or, it occurred to her, she could choose to make Starlight reveal herself.
Pyrrha turned, her hair flying behind her, her sash whirling about her, and began to run towards Trixie where she was locked in battle with Sunset.
A burst of fire interrupted her, just as she had expected it would, blue bolts flying out of the dark recesses of the forest and forcing Pyrrha to throw herself to the floor to let them pass overhead.
Pyrrha rolled along the ground as more bolts followed, slamming into the central hexagon and spitting up dust and shards of grey concrete. She leapt to her feet and darted into the geyser field, pursued by more shots from Starlight's rifle as Pyrrha took cover behind a low rock, huddling beneath it as best she could for maximum concealment.
So, it was the forest then.
A geyser erupted, boiling hot water leaping into the air, spray seeming to dance in the air as it fell from the vertical stream; the first geyser was still erupting when a second blew off also, and Pyrrha used them both to conceal herself, darting behind first one, then the other, invisible to Starlight from behind the walls of water, changing her position without her Atlesian opponent seeing it.
Well… Pyrrha's eyes darted swiftly up to the enormous television screens — something else they didn't have in any Mistralian arena — mounted above the four corners of the ring; they were for the benefit of the crowd, but they could also, she supposed, benefit one's opponents.
They could have benefited me, if I had thought to use them in my last match, Pyrrha thought to herself, but I am not used to their presence in my tournaments.
She had hope that the trees would prevent Starlight from seeing Pyrrha, or anything else, on the screens.
Pyrrha switched Miló from spear to sword as she used the cover of another erupting geyser to swift positions again, moving closer to the edge of the battlefield, and thus to the place were the forest and geyser biomes met as part of the circumvallation of the central hexagon.
And so, unseen by Starlight and untroubled by fire from out of the forest, she was able to cross from the geyser field and into the woods without having to expose herself by crossing the open ground in the centre of the battlefield.
The woods were thick, or at least they seemed so to Pyrrha; to her, the trees pressed close and cast long shadows. She could see no sign of Starlight anywhere; perhaps she was not there, perhaps Pyrrha had not seen her leave just as she had not seen Pyrrha enter, but Pyrrha doubted it. Starlight was still here, and though her Atlesian armour did not look stealthy, it was still a good sight stealthier than Pyrrha's gilded armour, the gorget around her neck, the golden circlet on her brown, the bronze shield she bore.
Pyrrha did not expect to sneak up on her opponent; rather, the reverse.
She kept Akoúo̱ up in front of her, covering her chest and the lower part of her neck, as she moved cautiously through the trees, Miló held in a low guard ready to strike.
She could see nothing but the trees all around her and the shadows they cast upon the artificial grass. They surrounded her still, and yet, by the very fact that they concealed her foe, there seemed to be a malevolent aspect about them, as though they were a hostile crowd — no, worse than a crowd, for a crowd would cheer at least. These trees, it seemed to her, had chosen their side, and yet, even as they watched to see if Pyrrha would fall, their support for Starlight lacked enthusiasm. It was a cold thing, almost … dead.
As dead as Phoebe's ambitions. As dead as they always were since her mother died, lacking anyone for whom she fought or anything but bitterness and envy.
Pyrrha frowned. She should not think of Phoebe now; she would not. She had a battle to fight; think only of that, focus on that.
Fight for Sunset, she thought. She glanced quickly at the golden silk tied around her arm, fight for Jaune, fight for everyone who puts their hopes on me.
Come, Starlight, will you not help drive these distractions from my mind? Or do you intend to hide from me until Sunset and Trixie have decided the issue between them?
Starlight emerged from the shadows, weapon slung across her back, fists clenched, throwing a punch at the back of Pyrrha's head.
Pyrrha whirled around just in time, raising Akoúo̱ to deflect the blow. Starlight's fist glanced off the bronze surface of the shield, her arm sliding over it. Pyrrha stepped forward, using Akoúo̱ to pull Starlight off balance while she slashed at Starlight's midriff with her sword.
Starlight dissipated into smoke and shadow, reappearing a couple of feet behind where she had been, before she hurled herself on Pyrrha once again, fists at the ready.
Pyrrha met her, slashing crosswise with Miló. Starlight evaded the blow, her body twisting nimbly despite her armour, managing to throw a punch in Pyrrha's direction, but the blow was weaker than it would have been, and with Starlight out of position as she was, Pyrrha was able to evade the blow in turn, pirouetting on her toe with a dancer's grace to not only let the blow fly past her but also build momentum for another slashing stroke.
Starlight threw herself onto the ground, rolling backwards before leaping to her feet. Pyrrha pursued, not wanting to let Starlight slip away into the shadows. Not that it seemed that Starlight had any thought of escaping from her; as Pyrrha came on, she launched a spinning kick aimed squarely at Pyrrha's head.
Pyrrha took the blow on Akoúo̱, shielding her head and face with it, feeling the force of Starlight's blow as it jarred against her arm; she felt her aura drop slightly and had to brace her shield with her sword hand to stop the blow.
But once the blow was stopped, she was free to slash down at Starlight's leg.
Starlight used another clone to get away, then reappeared behind Pyrrha, dropping down upon her from on high.
Pyrrha switched Miló from sword to spear for greater reach, turning and lunging upwards to puncture Starlight's clone, which disappeared.
Starlight attacked from her right, and Pyrrha gave ground to give herself time to switch Miló back from spear into sword again, these trees pressed too close for a long weapon; doubtless, that was why Starlight was attacking with her fists instead of with her polearm.
Starlight followed after her, throwing out punches, trying to catch Pyrrha before her weapon transformed; fortunately, Miló could transform very quickly indeed, and Pyrrha thrust out with the blade, pricking Starlight's shoulder with the point.
Another clone, another shadowy figure gone before Starlight appeared behind Pyrrha once again — behind and very close at hand, so close that Pyrrha could feel her breath on the back of her neck.
Pyrrha threw herself forwards, using Akoúo̱ as a battering ram to smash through a tree in a shower of splinters before turning, shattered wood falling down all around her, to face Starlight.
Starlight who wasn't there.
Starlight who had jumped up into the air and now descended through the trees like a thunderbolt, one foot extended to slam down into Pyrrha as she crashed through the branches of the trees.
Pyrrha sidestepped, cutting upwards, her blow aiming for Starlight's navel.
Another clone, another shadow dissipated, another Starlight appearing at Pyrrha's side, leg lashing out in a sideswipe to cut Pyrrha's legs out from under her.
Pyrrha jumped up, letting Starlight's sweeping kick pass harmlessly beneath her before she kicked out with one foot at Starlight's chest.
Starlight turned into a statue of ice; at least, she did for a second at most before the ice sculpture expanded outwards into a mere clump of ice — a clump which enclosed Pyrrha's leg up past her knee.
Starlight was above her, fist drawn back.
Pyrrha gritted her teeth, throwing her shield straight upwards at Starlight even as she kicked at the ice with her free foot. Starlight disappeared, the clone disappearing in a shadowy haze as Akoúo̱ flew through where she had been, while Pyrrha's blow — she had concentrated her aura around her boot a little more than usual — shattered the block of ice, scattering icicles in all directions.
Pyrrha fell, landing on her back on the forest floor, leaping to her feet immediately.
Starlight reappeared, and she seemed to have given up on her fists, because she had her rifle cradled in her arms once more — although the barrel was pointed towards the ground, not aimed at Pyrrha.
"You know," she said, "I thought for sure that if I came at you from all directions, I was bound to catch you by surprise from one of them — or at least be faster than you could move. I underestimated you."
"Thank you," Pyrrha murmured.
Starlight paused for a moment. "Before the match, I wondered if you might have come up with a strategy to deal with Blake's semblance … letting Blake — or me — drain my own aura creating clones while you just didn't let yourself get hit, that is your strategy, isn't it?"
"Not the most elegant way of winning, not the most satisfying," Pyrrha admitted. "And not a manner of winning that will please the crowd, I fear. But Blake's semblance is so very enviable: she can't be hit unless she allows herself to be hit. I'd never admit this to her, but I'm really rather jealous."
Starlight sniggered. "Yeah, well … Blake's just cool, isn't she? Maybe cool enough that she could have landed a hit on you."
Pyrrha smiled. "I … will not deny the possibility. As you say, she is very cool. You'll be lucky to have her, up in Atlas."
"You don't need to tell me," Starlight replied. "Just like you don't need to tell me that this isn't really working out. So…" She raised her rifle, aiming at Pyrrha.
Pyrrha charged forwards, the black glow of her Polarity surrounding both arms as with one hand she summoned Akoúo̱ back to her, and with the other, she threw Starlight's aim off ever so slightly so that the blue bolts of her rifle flew just past Pyrrha's head and over her shoulder.
Starlight's eyes widened as Pyrrha closed in.
Pyrrha fell upon her like a wolf from the fold.
Again, Starlight left a clone in her place, but this time, the clone was of earth, a stone statue of Starlight Glimmer standing where the real Starlight had stood just a moment ago.
And the real Starlight standing behind it, at the edge of the forest, already firing.
She meant for Pyrrha, carried by her momentum, to smash through the stone clone and take the fire.
And it was too late for Pyrrha to stop, her momentum would bear her on regardless, but it was not too late to throw herself forward, landing flat on the ground, skidding along the grass with her left hand — the hand onto which Akoúo̱ flew and landed on her vambrace — held out in front of her as Miló switched from sword to rifle mode in her right hand.
Pyrrha skidded forwards, smashing through the feet of the earth clone which toppled forwards — Pyrrha raised her legs at the knees in an almost equine kick to shatter the statue before it could fall on her — and continuing to skid forwards as Starlight's bolts of energy flew over her.
Starlight adjusted her aim downwards, but with Miló in rifle mode — and discarding Akoúo̱ to one side for a moment — Pyrrha could aim too, and she fired first.
It was not quite true to say that Blake, or someone with Blake's semblance, could only be hit if they allowed themselves to be hit.
They could also be hit if they were taken by surprise.
And Starlight was surprised as the rifle round hit her in the chest. It did not knock her off her feet, but it did make her reel backwards.
The second shot, following hard upon the first, did knock her off her feet.
Pyrrha rose to her knees, and while Starlight was momentarily down, she switched her attention to Trixie, firing a single shot in her direction.
XxXxX
Trixie pointed her wand at Sunset, a great gust of flame erupting from it, boiling out of it like dragon's breath straight.
Sunset took a step back, raising her hands as she conjured up a shield to protect herself, the bubble of green magic surrounding her like a cocoon. The flames passed around the shield, lapping over it like water sweeping over a rock; they burned all around Sunset … but Sunset felt nothing of them. She ought to have been able to feel the flames against her shield, trying to break through the magic, but she couldn't. She felt nothing at all.
Of course not.
Sunset lowered the shield and stood in the middle of the flames that did her no harm, did not even chip at her aura, did not even make her feel a little warmer. There was nothing to the illusory flames, conjured by Trixie's semblance, but seeming.
Just as there was nothing but seeming to the Trixie who stood in front of Sunset, seeming to cast the flames that did not burn her.
So where was the real Trixie? To the left, to the right?
Above!
Sunset looked up to see Trixie in the air above her; she must have concentrated her aura into her legs to have made such a mighty leap, and now, she had soared up towards the shield that sealed off the arena ceiling, the gold and silver stars of her cape glistening in the morning sunlight as the cape itself flew out behind her.
Trixie's wand was in her right hand, but it was her left hand that she drew back as if to throw something.
Sunset raised her palms, two bolts of magic blasting out of the palms of her hands, just as Trixie threw a handful of miniature fireballs — dust crystals that she had energised with her aura, no doubt — down towards Sunset.
Sunset teleported backwards, into the midst of the lava biome, where — a new feature that had not been present in the four-on-four round — streams of lava leapt intermittently upwards into the air, the burning hot molten rock rising six or seven feet up before falling down to the surface again.
Luckily, none of them were immediately near Sunset, but she kept one eye on them regardless. With her other eye, she saw Trixie's fireballs slam down into the central hexagon where she'd been standing.
She saw one of her twin bolts of magic miss Trixie as she began to fall.
But she also saw the other bolt wing her on the shoulder, turning her descent into a spinning drop, her cape wrapping itself around her body as she fell towards the edge of the lava field.
Sunset unslung Sol Invictus from her shoulder as quickly as she could, took aim, and fired a fire dust round, and then another.
Like with the magic, the first missed.
Unlike with her magic, the second shot missed as well.
And Trixie hit the ground before Sunset would have expected she would, based on—
Right. More illusions.
Trixie leapt to her feet and leapt towards Sunset; she didn't run, or charge; she truly leapt in a single bound that carried her over the lava, flying towards her opponent like an arrow from a bow.
Sunset fired a third time, and this time, she definitely hit, but though Trixie's aura dropped, her momentum was not slowed in the least.
Trixie raised her wand.
Sunset raised one hand, conjuring another shield around her as the flames, real flames this time, surrounded her, engulfed her, passed all around the shield and over it as well. She could feel the heat through the shield, and she could feel the flames licking at her magic, biting at it, trying to find a way to break through and get at Sunset herself.
The flames died as swiftly as they had sprung up as Trixie flew through the dying flames, slamming the palm of her left hand into the green magical barrier. Sunset could feel the force of the blow, it vibrated through her hand and down her arm as though she had physically blocked the stroke — although she had the advantage that it did no damage to her aura — but it wasn't powerful enough to break the barrier.
Trixie roared as she half-spun upon her toe, delivering a prodigious kick with a foot which must have still had more than its fair share of aura concentrated within it. Trixie's boot collided with Sunset's shield with enough force to make a crack appear in the magic.
Sunset let out a gasping breath, her arm trembling as she felt the force of that more powerful blow through the magic. She dropped the shield and teleported away, reappearing with a crack and a flash of green light on the border between the lava and geyser biomes.
Sunset's hand was still up, and still wreathed in emerald magic, as she fired another magical blast straight at Trixie.
Trixie flinched away as she raised her own hand, and a blast of light blue something, a burst that almost resembled a cloud, so fluffy were its borders, whatever it was, it leapt from Trixie's palm and intercepted Sunset's magical bolt, colliding with it in mid-air, where both exploded in a turquoise blast.
Sunset's eyes widened. Her eyebrows rose besides.
What was that?
She could almost hear Princess Celestia's voice in her head. "I'm surprised at you, my little sunbeam, that you cannot recognise magic when you see it in front of you."
But, Princess Celestia, humans don't have magic!
"Then why was Pyrrha's life in danger? Why did you strive to revive Amber? Why is Amber still in danger?"
Point taken, but the magic of the Maidens is so special precisely because it's rare. There are only four of them, and I am confident in saying that Trixie isn't one of them.
Although Rainbow did think that Starlight might be. She could have been on the right track but not quite aiming at the right target.
But then why would she use her secret magic in the tournament? Why would she be allowed to?
"Why should there not be other magics in the world, besides the four Maidens? Rarity need not imply exclusivity, after all."
Another fine point, Princess, and yet at the same time … magic? If humans have magic of their own, then why am I only seeing it now? Can it really be so rare? And if it is not rare but rather secret, then again, why is Trixie so casually revealing it now?
Could it be she doesn't know what it is she has?
Trixie opened her eyes.
"It … it worked?" she asked. "It worked! It worked! Yes! Trixie is great and powerful!" She pointed at Sunset. "You're not the only one with tricks up your sleeve!"
Sunset grinned. "So it would seem. Great and powerful after all."
"Naturally," Trixie declared. She preened like a parrot as she held her wand out, not pointing it at Sunset but off to her side, and ostentatiously ejected the fire dust canister from the base of her wand.
From out of her sleeve, Trixie plucked a thin phial of cyan hard-light dust.
"Trrrrrixie doesn't usually use hard-light dust," Trixie declared as she slammed the phial into the base of her wand, "but against someone almost as powerrrrrrrful as me, Trrrrrixie was ready to pull out all the stops!"
A thin line of hard-light emerged from out of the tip of Trixie's wand, extending about three feet out from the tip of the white wand like a slender sabre made of light.
Trixie grinned, twirling the blade in one hand as lava flows erupted on either side of her.
Sunset fired a bolt of magic from her palm. Trixie's blade was a blur of light in her hand as she whirled it in front of her, intercepting the magical hand blast and deflecting it off towards the crowd in the stands. The blast struck the shield that protected the spectators from such effects, but Sunset doubted that stopped at least some people from shrinking back before the assault.
Trixie raised her left hand, palm out facing towards Sunset, fingers bent ever so slightly, not enough to be making claws but close.
Her fingers twitched.
Five clouds — that really was what they looked like to Sunset; she couldn't help but think of them that way — of Trixie's magic, wherever she'd gotten it from, appeared above her head, surrounding her like a half-halo.
One by one, they leapt forward, cutting through the air towards Sunset.
From the fingers of her free hand, Sunset cast magic straight back at them, miniature bolts of magic leaping from her fingertips to intercept Trixie's blasts just as Trixie had intercepted hers. With her other hand, she quickly slung Sol Invictus back over her shoulder and loosed more magical blasts from her other fingertips.
Sunset's first volley collided with Trixie's attack, a succession of turquoise explosions blooming in the air between them. Sunset's second volley shot through the clouds, returning Trixie's compliment, but Trixie's hard-light beam traced delicate patterns through the air as she deflected all of them away from her — to the ground, sending lava bursting into the air left and right, towards the stands, even back at Sunset, which she narrowly avoided.
More magic leapt from Trixie, and Sunset answered it with magic of her own.
She hadn't intended, going into this tournament, to show off her magic to this extent; play it safe, she thought, rely on weapons and dust, she thought, keep it low-key, she thought. Don't raise too many questions.
Well, that was then. That was before she found out that Trixie — Trixie! — had magic. She certainly wasn't going to hold back now. If this was a magic duel, then she wasn't going to give Trixie Lulamoon any reason to think that she had beaten Sunset Shimmer!
Trixie fired more magic at her, and Sunset answered it with magic of her own, magical bolts flying from the fingers of her right hand to answer every blue cloud that Trixie hurled her way, catching all of them as myriad turquoise flowers bloomed in the air between them.
Sunset, she had to admit to herself, used her magic in a few simple, trusted ways in a fight; Trixie, it seemed, had only one way of using her magic in battle — although perhaps she simply hadn't had occasion to do anything else with it. But, in spite of that lack of versatility, as she fired her magic at Sunset, she had such a bright smile on her face, so much light gleaming in her eyes — she looked as though she were about to laugh with joy — that it seemed almost a shame not to hand her the victory.
Not that Sunset was going to, of course.
Teleport in close, use Soteria to beat down her guard, blast her in the chest?
That might work, but it might not provide me with the satisfaction I'm looking for.
If this is a magical duel, I'd like to beat her with magic.
A lava flow erupted, spewing the molten rock up into the air.
Sunset smiled out of one corner of her mouth, and surreptitiously — she hoped it was surreptitious, at any rate — she shifted her right hand behind her back so that Trixie couldn't see it glowing with magic.
With her left hand, Sunset kept up the duel with Trixie, although all of her magical bolts were intercepted either by Trixie's own magic or by the hard-light emanating from her wand. On the other hand, none of Trixie's magic was getting through either. It was starting to look as though they were at a stalemate, neither able to penetrate the other's defences.
Perhaps Trixie might have tried a new approach if another lava flow had not burst upwards at just that moment.
Sunset seized the leaping lava in the grip of her telekinesis; it was a little difficult with liquid — there was always a slippery quality to it that she could feel through her magic — but nevertheless, Sunset was able to hang onto the lava, wrapped in a bubble of her magical power, and yank it through the air, over the lava field and smack it into Trixie even as she turned to see it coming.
Trixie cried out as the lava covered one side of her face, her hand and arm, parts of her body, dropping her aura down into the yellow as she was knocked to the smouldering surface of the lava field. Trixie scrambled upright, barely avoiding another erupting lava flow, and raised her hand towards Sunset again.
This time, nothing happened.
Trixie grunted, twitching her fingers. Still, nothing happened.
Trixie growled wordlessly, a sound like a lawn-mower passing her lips as she screwed up her face in concentration.
Nothing happened.
"Projectile … go!" Trixie shouted. "Projectile … go!" She let out a kind of screeching sound. "Why isn't it working?"
Because it's tied to your emotions, Sunset thought, and you've come down off the euphoria of being able to do it the first time. Do you believe that you can do it consistently?
She might have been wrong about that, it might be that Trixie had simply used up her reserves of magical energy, or it might be something completely different — this wasn't Equestrian magic, after all. But, if it was Equestrian magic, then, well, there was an emotional component to it. It was a component that magic school — any magic school, still less a prestigious one — worked hard to train young unicorns out of so that they could master their abilities in any mood, but the link was there, especially if you were self-taught or just starting out as Trixie was.
But this was hardly the time or the place for Sunset to start giving Trixie advice on how to use her magic — there would be time for that after the battle was over — and so she kept quiet and drew Soteria across her back.
She had already used more magic than was wise, and Trixie's hard-light gave her a counter to it, and at this point, it felt a little unfair to abuse her advantage over Trixie; it would be like rubbing in her misfortune.
Trixie saw her and stopped growling at the failure of her magic. She settled into a fighting stance, her wand-sword drawn back behind her head, the light itself extending just past her eye level, while with her free hand she pointed at Sunset.
For her part, Sunset gripped Soteria in both hands, the black blade held before her in a low guard.
Lava erupted around Trixie. The geysers leapt up behind Sunset.
Sunset charged back into the lava field, and Trixie charged to meet her. As she charged, Trixie produced another fire dust crystal, charged it with a touch of aura, and flung it as a fireball straight at Sunset, who batted it aside with a blow of her sword. The fireball exploded, the heat washing over Sunset, but doing no harm to her aura as she charged.
The two closed in on one another like rival stags. Sunset swung Soteria two-handed in a diagonal slashing stroke. Trixie parried with her hard-light beam in one hand, but Sunset could see the force of her own blow jarring Trixie's arm, forcing it downwards. Trixie took a step back, yanking her blade away before countering, twirling her wand in her fingers before she brought the beam of light down on Sunset's shoulder. It was Sunset's turn to parry, turning the stroke aside before—
Starlight Glimmer charged at Sunset from her right, her pole-arm whirling.
Huh? What happened to Pyrrha?
Sunset began to retreat, trying to keep both Trixie and Starlight in view. Starlight brought her polearm straight down towards Sunset's head; Sunset raised her sword to block the blow.
Trixie slammed her beam of hard-light into Sunset's armoured gut and into her side, beating her aura level down as Sunset staggered backwards, parrying a third blow even as she glanced left and right to try and avoid any lava eruptions.
Starlight had disappeared.
Because she was never there at all.
Sunset attacked again. Trixie gave ground before her, but not fast enough to get away from Sunset, who thrust Soteria straight forwards. Trixie parried, but she wasn't strong enough to turn the stroke aside enough to stop Sunset from jabbing her in the gut. Trixie countered, forcing Sunset to parry in turn, and she was able to turn Trixie's thrust aside completely before she slashed at Trixie's midriff. Trixie jumped back a step, the stroke missing her. Sunset reversed her slash for a second attempt; Trixie parried, holding her wand in both hands now, resisting Sunset's momentum for just a second before bringing her light beam upwards and then down towards Sunset's crown. Sunset let go of the hilt of her sword with one hand, raising it above her to take the blow upon her vambrace, while with the other hand jabbing outwards with her black sword.
Trixie winced as she was struck in the stomach, staggering back, scuttling away when some lava burst out of the ground too near her.
"Trrrrixie," she declared, "is grrrrreat and powerrrrrrful, not a great swordswoman." The beam of hard-light streaming from her wand died as she ejected the phial of hard-light she had inserted into it earlier. "That was meant for you attacking me from a distance."
And now you've disarmed yourself, Sunset thought as she closed in for the metaphorical kill.
Again Trixie jumped, somersaulting over Sunset's head, and as she leapt, she produced a canister of yellow lightning dust that she slammed into the back of her wand so that when she landed, she was armed once more.
Trixie pointed her wand at Sunset.
Sunset gathered her magic to conjure up a shield.
There was a bang, the sharp report of Miló echoing in Sunset's ears as Trixie's wand was blown out of her hand, flying away to land somewhere in the lava field.
Trixie stared, a little wide-eyed, at her empty hand where her wand had been.
She blinked twice, then looked at Sunset.
"She's good," Trixie said.
Sunset grinned. "Yep," she agreed. "She's the best."
Trixie sighed and then raised her palms, her feet shifting as she settled into a posture that almost certainly belonged to some martial art, although Sunset didn't know the name of it. "Trixie won't go down without a fight!"
"I'd expect nothing less," Sunset said.
Trixie charged. Sunset let Soteria fall to the ground and unslung Sol Invictus once more from her shoulder.
She had time for a single shot before Trixie reached her.
A single shot was all it took.
"Trixie Lulamoon's aura has dropped below the limit!" Doctor Oobleck cried. "She has been eliminated from the match."
Trixie stood, not still — she was swaying a little from side to side — but without any sense of deliberate motion. Finally, with a low and wordless moan, she dropped to her knees.
Sunset stepped forward, and offered Trixie her hand up. "That was pretty fun, I thought."
Trixie looked up at her. "Aren't you going to—?"
"What?" Sunset asked. "Steal Pyrrha's kill?"
"I was going to say help out your teammate," Trixie said.
"Nah, Pyrrha doesn't need my help with this," Sunset replied. "And as much to the point, I doubt her lady mother would appreciate it if I gave her my help. I'm sorry, but Pyrrha's got this."
XxXxX
I hope you don't mind the helping hand, Sunset.
Pyrrha returned her attention to Starlight.
They were both out of the forest now, perched upon the edge of the ruins, with rubble strewn around them as though one of General Ironwood's cruisers had flown overhead to drop a bomb or two upon the place. Starlight, having regained her feet, was set a little higher than Pyrrha, upon a slightly slanted slab of debris — part of a wall, or meant to resemble such — supported by an uneven mound of rubble beneath.
The rifle in her hands transformed; it shifted, accompanied by a fair amount of electronic buzzing, out of its rifle mode and into its polearm form; the blade glowed blue as Starlight gripped the metal shaft with both hands.
Pyrrha rose to her feet, Miló transforming smoothly from rifle into spear; she held said spear in one hand while she slung Akoúo̱ off her back and onto her left arm.
She did not think that Starlight would lightly use another clone.
And so she attacked, Akoúo̱ held before her; as she came on, approaching the fallen wall where Starlight stood, Starlight swiped at her with her polearm, trying to use her longer weapon to keep Pyrrha at bay, but Pyrrha ducked the blow and let the glowing blade pass cleanly over her head. She rose up, half turning to bring Akoúo̱ down upon the polearm, hoping to force it to the ground and maybe even out of Starlight's hand, but Starlight wrenched it away, turning in place and raising the weapon so that it swiftly passed out of Pyrrha's reach. Pyrrha closed the distance with Starlight, thrusting Miló forwards towards her chest. Starlight gave ground, retreating so that Pyrrha ran out of arm's length before the tip of her spear touched Starlight's armour. Starlight leapt backwards, vaulting onto a shattered wall behind her, gaining greater elevation over Pyrrha as she brought the polearm down on Pyrrha's head.
Pyrrha raised Akoúo̱ above her head and turned the stroke aside, angling her shield in such a way that Starlight's blade skittered off the bronze as Pyrrha twisted her body aside and used the shield to force the halberd blade down to the ground, where it bit deep into the stone. She swiped at Starlight's legs with Miló, but Starlight leapt over the spear and landed on the wall again.
Pyrrha backed away a step or two, then mounted the wall where Starlight stood, so that they faced one another both perched upon this narrow strip of shattered stonework.
Pyrrha slung Akoúo̱ across her back and gripped Miló in both hands, sacrificing a little of the spear's length for greater control; for her part, Starlight adjusted her grip on her own weapon, holding it closer to the blade so that she had less reach but, again, more control over it.
They met in the middle of the wall, weapons whirling in their hands. Pyrrha attacked high and was blocked; Starlight countered by trying to cut Pyrrha's legs out from under her, but Pyrrha leapt over the swiping blade to land upon the wall again. Starlight did the same thing when Pyrrha tried it, just as Pyrrha blocked Starlight's high attack with Miló.
She was good. Quick, strong, well-trained; Pyrrha could not break her guard, even as Starlight could not break Pyrrha's. Miló clashed with Starlight's glaive again and again, metal ringing and clanking, but whatever one did, whatever approach one tried, the other could counter it. They parried, and they parried, and they parried, and if they had chosen to attack the wall, they would have done more damage to it than they were doing to one another's aura. Miló was a blur at times in Pyrrha's hand, but Starlight's weapon was just as much a blur in her sure-handed grasp, and there was not enough in it between them for Pyrrha to break through in a frontal assault.
Pyrrha could see why General Ironwood had thought that she might be worthy to guard the powers of a Maiden.
But still … her polearm was made of metal.
Pyrrha did not especially like using her semblance in this way; it felt … it felt more dishonest, perhaps because she was keeping it a secret, than the more flamboyant, obvious uses to which other fighters put their semblances.
She did not like using her semblance in this way, but at the same time, it was her semblance, to do with as she would within the rules of the tournament, and she did like winning, at least a little.
And so, a faint black outline surrounded her right hand, and as Starlight moved her polearm to black Pyrrha's next strike, Pyrrha threw her weapon ever so slightly off.
And in so doing, created an opening that Miló crashed through to slam into Starlight's chest. Pyrrha let off the dust charge in the butt of her spear, extending Miló's tip outwards and adding yet more force to the blow as Starlight was hurled backwards off the wall to land heavily upon the rubble beneath.
She began to roll down the rubble slope, but Pyrrha did not wait for her to stop; she leapt down in pursuit of her adversary, pulling Akoúo̱ off her back and onto her arm as she did so. She stood astride Starlight and slammed her shield down onto the back of Starlight's head, doing the double damage of the impact and the fact that it slammed Starlight's head down into the ground.
Pyrrha raised her shield and brought it down again, but this time, Starlight did use another clone to escape.
She reappeared in the shadows of the bombed out building that dominated the ruins, charging out with her polearm levelled like a spear. Pyrrha brought Akoúo̱ around to block and turn the blow, but Starlight recoiled before she struck, drawing back, then parrying Pyrrha's own thrust with Miló.
Two more thrusts, and again, Starlight held her off, her reflexes swift and sure enough to withstand Pyrrha's probing attacks, for all that she was forced to give ground in the face of the onslaught.
Another touch of Polarity, another slight movement in Starlight's weapon, another gap opened in Starlight's guard, and Pyrrha struck her in the shoulder with such force that Starlight staggered back into the wall of the building.
She stared at her polearm for a second, and then discarded it, letting it clatter down amongst the stones of the ruin.
Starlight raised her fists as she stepped away from the wall. Her face was inscrutable.
Pyrrha nodded and stepped into a guard.
Miló switched from spear to sword in her hands, clicking and clacking.
Starlight attacked with a bellowing roar, rushing Pyrrha and lashing out with a high kick that made Pyrrha retreat before it. Starlight threw out one punch, then another, both her fists slamming into Akoúo̱ with a jarring force. She kicked again, leaping into the air before bringing her foot down upon Pyrrha, who took the blow upon Akoúo̱ — she could feel the force of it jarring through her arm — before using the shield to toss Starlight backwards. And as Starlight fell, so, too, did Pyrrha fall on her, slashing at her with her sword once, twice, three times before Starlight struck the ground and rolled immediately back onto her feet.
Starlight hesitated, head down, hands down by her side.
Then she looked up at Pyrrha and grinned.
And then she attacked again.
Pyrrha flowed forwards, slashing with Miló.
Starlight exploded. Or rather, the clone infused with fire dust exploded, the heat washing over Pyrrha, the light blinding her as the force of the blast picked her up and bore her backwards, carrying her into the wall on which she and Starlight had lately fought with a force that cracked the stonework and sent shockwaves reverberating through Pyrrha's aura as it dropped.
Pyrrha recovered her feet and jumped over the wall, half-crouching down behind it as cover, eyes searching for Starlight.
She found Starlight standing where her clone had exploded, looking at Pyrrha.
She held up one finger of one hand.
One hit. She had gotten a hit on Pyrrha.
Pyrrha straightened up and bowed her head, then, shifting Miló from sword back into spear mode, she threw it like a javelin at Starlight Glimmer.
It flew straight and true and smote her on the breast.
"And now, Starlight Glimmer has also been eliminated by aura depletion!" Professor Port declared, as Starlight fell backwards. "The winners of this match are Sunset Shimmer and Pyrrha Nikos!"
A vast cheer rose up from the crowd then fell on Pyrrha like a great wave crashing down upon the shore. It seemed to come from all sides, it fell like rain from the heavens, it echoed like thunder above her head.
But it could not drown out the single voice that drew closer and closer to her.
"We won!" Sunset yelled as she ran across the battlefield. "WE WON!"
Pyrrha laughed brightly. "Yes," she said, as Sunset scrambled across the ruin to reach her. "Yes, we did." She raised one eyebrow. "Did you ever doubt it?"
Sunset gasped. "No," she said at once. "No, of course not, but … but even so." She placed both hands on Pyrrha's shoulders. "We won, together."
Pyrrha smiled. "Together. After a fashion."
"Well, yes, I suppose we didn't exactly fight as one, but…" Sunset trailed off. "That shot of yours, it was a very nice shot, but you could have shot Trixie herself. Did you want to leave her for me, or were you showing off your own accuracy?"
Pyrrha felt her cheeks heat up a little. "Can it be both?" she asked.
Sunset chuckled. "I don't see why not," she said. "I mean, if there is ever a time for showing off, I suppose this is it." She pulled Pyrrha into a hug, wrapping her arms around Pyrrha's shoulders and drawing her in. Pyrrha could feel Sunset's hair against her cheek, a cushion between their two faces.
"Thanks, Pyrrha. I'm glad … I'm glad we were both here."
Pyrrha let out a little chuckle of her own as she put her arms around Sunset's waist. "I'm glad we were both here too."
They half released one another, but they kept one arm each on the other — Sunset's arm on Pyrrha's shoulder, Pyrrha's arm around Sunset's waist — as they turned to face a part of the crowd that surrounded them and waved to acknowledge their cheers.
Pyrrha wore a polite smile, but Sunset's smile was bright, joyous; her green eyes sparkled, her tail swept eagerly from side to side. She looked like someone parched who had come to a river of cool, clear water.
She looked like someone who had been waiting years for this.
Pyrrha laughed a little, and her own smile brightened, and she waved more eagerly to the crowd because today, whatever had happened, whatever would happen, today was a good day.
They kept their arms on one another as they took a bow, together.
XxXxX
Author's Note: The picture of Trixie and Starlight was by Schruby, while the picture of Sunset and Pyrrha at the end of the chapter was by McMystery
