SAPR: Volume 3 (RWBY/MLP)

Chapter 49 - The Gathering
The Gathering


"Starlight?" Trixie called as she picked her way over the rubble of the ruin, her boots slipping a little on the uneven surface. "Starlight, are you okay?"

"Yeah," Starlight replied, her voice a little hoarse as she raised one hand in the air. "Yeah, Trix, I'm okay." She picked herself up off the ground, brushing some dust off her pants as she did so. She didn't quite look at Trixie, and when she did, there was a sheepish quality to her smile, and she didn't raise her head all the way. "Trixie—"

"Starlight," Trixie said, before Starlight could really say anything. She put one hand upon her hip and fell silent for a moment, raising her head to look around her at the crowd, the crowd that were cheering for Pyrrha and Sunset. "Starlight," she repeated, "as my father once said to me: sometimes, you kill it up on stage, and sometimes, you die. On stage, I mean; actual dying isn't something to be so blasé about."

Starlight chuckled. "I thought your old man owned a magic shop in Atlas."

"Yeah, now he does," Trixie declared. "But in his youth, Artemis Lulamoon was one of the greatest performing magicians ever seen in Remnant! Not to mention an adventurer and a treasure hunter besides. Trixie's point is … play up, and play the game."

"You were … unfortunate," Pyrrha said quietly, "but I do not think that you have anything to be ashamed of."

"We have a little to be ashamed of," Trixie said, "and Trixie is disappointed that we'll never get the chance to settle the score with you."

"Not in the arena, no," Pyrrha admitted. "But outside of it? Who can tell how the winds of fate will blow?"

A smile tugged at the corner of Trixie's mouth. "Then the great and powerful Trixie will look forward to it. In the meantime," she swept her hat off her head, "Trixie takes her hat off to you both."

Pyrrha nodded. "Much obliged."

Sunset took a step towards her, and then another. She closed the distance between them until she was practically whispering in Trixie's ear. "When you get back to Atlas after all this, give me a call; I might be able to help you out with your magic. No guarantees, but … it might help you out."

Trixie was very still and silent for a moment. "Seriously?" she asked softly. "You … seriously?"

"Like I said," Sunset reminded her, "I don't promise anything, but … yes, seriously. Honestly … I think I owe you that much."

"Yeah, you bet you do!" Trixie declared. Her tone softened almost immediately. "Do you really think you can?"

Sunset hesitated. "I have … no idea."

"That isn't quite the answer that Trixie would have liked," Trixie muttered. She sighed. "To be able to use it whenever, on command, no effort, no screw ups, no problems … that would be more wonderful than winning this whole tournament. Trixie — I — would appreciate that."

"Then I'll do my best," Sunset said. "And perhaps in return, you can tell me where it comes from?"

Trixie shrugged. "Trixie's mother gave it to her."

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "Not your father?"

Trixie chuckled. "Trixie's father used to escape from a locked box before he drowned. Trixie's mom has the real magic. But Trixie's dad … dad always believed, even when mom didn't, and a believing heart … that's kind of magical too, don't you think?"

Sunset smiled. "Absolutely." She held out her hand. "Well played."

Trixie took Sunset's hand and squeezed it firmly. "Congratulations, Sunset Shimmer."

They both released the other's hands, and Sunset turned away from Trixie — and Starlight — and walked back towards Pyrrha.

"Shall we?" she asked, holding out her arm.

Pyrrha chuckled lightly and slipped her hand into the crook of Sunset's arm as they began to walk across the battlefield towards their exit.

The cheers of the crowd were still falling down upon them, although the clamour had settled down a little so that, rather than falling like rain, they were falling instead like autumn leaves.

It was still very pleasant to listen to.

Sunset found that she was even getting used to that Mistralian song.

"Jewels remain, still gleaming," Sunset murmured.

"I'm sure there's no need for that," Pyrrha murmured.

"Oh, I don't know," Sunset replied. "It's kind of catchy. I might start to sing it when your one-on-one matches start."

"You would probably sing it more pleasantly than most," Pyrrha conceded, a smile upon her face, "but please don't feel obliged to. Your good wishes are more than sufficient, and I feel those in my heart without you needing to give voice to them." She paused for a moment. "What was it that you and Trixie were talking about?"

"I…" Sunset lowered her voice just a little, even though she wasn't sure if there was a point to that. "I offered to help Trixie with her magic, over the scroll, when she gets back to Atlas."

"'Her magic'?" Pyrrha repeated. She was silent for a moment. "So … it was magic, what I saw. I caught a glimpse of it, and I thought … well, it did seem very similar to your own, but at the same time … how? Is she—?"

"A Maiden?" Sunset guessed. "No, I don't think so. I think a Maiden would be more cautious in how they used their power."

"Yes," Pyrrha said, with a touch of amusement in her tone. She paused for a moment, and there was a little less amusement in her voice as she went on, "You were … showing off rather a lot."

"I could make a remark about the pot and the girl who casually shot my opponent's weapon out of her hand," Sunset declared, "but I'll take your remark in the spirit that it was intended and say … well, she started it."

Pyrrha's eyebrows rose.

"What? I couldn't just let her beat me!" Sunset declared. "Magic is … it's my thing. I wasn't going to let Trixie think that she was stronger than I was, better at the arcane arts. I had to stand up for myself, even if it meant … pushing the boundaries more than I had intended at the beginning of the tournament." She paused. "And, you know, I've gotten away with it so far, so I shall probably, hopefully, continue to do so."

"Tyche Agathe," Pyrrha murmured. "So, if Trixie is not a Maiden, then…"

"She said it was inherited, the same way that I came by my magic," Sunset said. "Perhaps Twilight is right, or more than right; perhaps magic is more common in the world that anyone realises."

"If it was that common, then surely it would have been realised by now," Pyrrha replied.

"Not if it was being hidden."

"Professor Ozpin and his predecessors might hide four Maidens, but he is evidently not hiding Trixie," Pyrrha pointed out. "Nor could they hide a larger group."

"True enough," Sunset admitted. "Perhaps … perhaps it died out. Perhaps Salem hunted down the magic users because they were a threat—"

"If that is so," Pyrrha said, "do you think that she might be in danger?"

"More than any other huntress?" Sunset asked. "Who can say? I cannot, except to say that if she is in danger, then she is probably as safe amongst her comrades as anywhere else that she might go or be." She paused. "Honestly, I don't know how Trixie came by magic, I don't know how many others might have it, or why it isn't more common; that is … an interesting thing to ponder, perhaps, but I fear that it would be a very philosophical pondering, with the answer never truly known. But as for Trixie herself, she has magic, but an imperfect control over it; I might be able to help her with that, and so, I would like to do so."

"Yes, I suppose you would," Pyrrha agreed. "And if that is what she wants, then, I suppose, I hope that you are able to help her. Although … whether she will still want it afterwards when the consequences come calling is something else altogether."

"Don't worry about that," Sunset said. "Trixie would love to be famous." She paused. "So, how do you feel about the one-on-ones?"

"We've only just finished our two-on-two match," Pyrrha pointed out. "There are seven more battles yet to come."

"I know," Sunset said. "But still … how do you feel about the one-on-one round?"

Pyrrha paused for a moment. "Weiss concerns me. She and Blake are the two in our year that I think would trouble me the most."

"You seemed to do more than well enough against Starlight with Blake's semblance," Sunset pointed out.

"True, but Blake is more experienced with her own semblance, naturally," Pyrrha replied, "and while Blake is a better, more ferocious fighter than Weiss, Weiss' semblance is extraordinary, and extraordinarily versatile." She paused for a moment. "Moreso than your magic, I must say."

"Must you?" Sunset asked. She snorted. "Well, you're right about that, I have to admit." She paused. "But we did alright out there, didn't we?"

"I should say so, yes," Pyrrha agreed, a smile playing across her face. "What will you do now?"

"I'm going to watch Weiss' match against Team Sabre," Sunset said. "Weiss and Flash. Will you join me, as you did for her four-on-four?"

"I would," Pyrrha said. "As you say, I did before, but that … well, that was before. As much as I would like to show respect to Weiss, in the circumstances, I feel as though I should return to Amber. We don't want to impose on Yang for too long, do we?"

Sunset chuckled. "No, I suppose not. Okay, well you do that — and you'll probably take Jaune and Ruby with you; I don't suppose that either of them will want to see Weiss in action either — and then when you come back up to watch Arslan, I can go down and look after Amber for a little bit. Maybe Penny can watch her while we're watching Rainbow and Ciel."

"You don't think that she'll want to watch her teammates?" Pyrrha asked.

"I don't know," Sunset said. "Will she?"

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. "I … don't know," she admitted. "Perhaps she wouldn't. I suppose we can ask her. In any case, you're right about the rest; I will go down now, and then we can switch places later. But first," she added, "we should—"

"PYRRHA!"

Sunset and Pyrrha both looked up; they were approaching the tunnel now, the egress that would lead them off the battlefield and under the stands, but it was the stands that now drew their attention, as Arslan stood directly above the tunnel, surrounded by her own team and a great many other Haven students — possibly the entire body of Haven students that were still competing in or had been eliminated from the tournament; Sunset couldn't have put names to all the faces, but she could tell that there were a lot of them up there — and all of them looking down at Pyrrha.

Medea put one hand to her lips and blew a kiss. "Thank you for starting us off in style, Lady Pyrrha."

"Good job, P-money!" Arslan cried. She raised one fist in the air. "Thirty years!"

"Never stop believing!" the Haven students chorused, raising their hands in the air before breaking out in a chorus of whoops and cheers.

"You are too kind," Pyrrha said, joining her hands around Sunset's arm. "This was a doubles match, and the victory belongs to both of us."

True, of course, but maybe not worth making a point to your own supporters about, Pyrrha, Sunset thought. Not that I don't appreciate it, obviously.

There was a moment of silence. A smile crossed Medea's painted lips. "Of course. Of course. The victory belongs not only to our Pride of Mistral, but to … the bearer of Soteria also. And if she who carries the black sword into battle cannot be regarded as a sort of honorary Mistralian, then, really, who can?"

"A Haven student?" suggested Arslan's teammate Reese Chloris.

"Shhh," Arslan hissed.

"The Evenstar and the Swordbearer," said one of the Haven students, a young man whom Sunset should probably have recognized from seeing his — ah, yes, she did recognise him, it had just taken her a second: he was Cicero Ward the Younger, one of Rainbow and Ciel's opponents in their two-on-two.

"I mean, we could just call them Pyrrha and Sunset," Arslan muttered, but nobody marked her.

"The Evenstar and the Swordbearer," Medea declared. "You have lit a torch for the rest of us to follow."

Another huntress, a blonde-haired young woman with what looked from this distance to be prosthetic hands, began to sign something, her hands and fingers moving deftly, making shapes that Sunset could not discern — she had never learned sign language.

Jason of Team JAMM made a sound that was a sort of wince combined with a slight laugh. "Yes, Lavinia, we do remember that we lost our match and so shall not be following anywhere." He sighed. "We remember it very well indeed, believe you me. What Medea meant was that … a torch has been lit for those of you who were lucky enough to be victorious in your matches. Arslan and Bolin, Lavinia and Lucius, Cicero and Lily, Sun and—"

"They aren't here," Scarlet grumbled.

"Of course he isn't," muttered Atalanta.

"He isn't one of us," Scarlet said. "And Neptune is corrupted by his influence."

"Whatever the case," Jason said, raising his voice a little, "he and Neptune carry a share of our hopes, as do the rest of you. As does the Evenstar."

"Yes, well…" Pyrrha murmured. She swallowed, and then cleared her throat. "Jewels remain."

"Still gleaming!" the Haven students cried, before breaking into a round of applause.

Pyrrha smiled, a forced smile, a public smile, a smile that remained on her face until she and Sunset had walked into the tunnel and were out of sight and then disappeared immediately thereafter.

"You handled that reasonably, for something that you didn't enjoy," Sunset remarked.

"I may not particularly want to be a symbol of Mistralian prowess, but I understand what is required in that role," Pyrrha said. "What concerns me more is what they had to say about Sun."

"I mean … they're not wrong, are they?" Sunset asked. "He isn't one of them, as proven by the fact that he's leaving to move to Mantle and become a vigilante at the end of the year."

"I … suppose," Pyrrha conceded. "But did they have to say it like that? And with him … would they have spoken so about a human, do you think?"

"There was a faunus up there with them, at least one that I saw," Sunset said. "Atalanta, of Team Jasmine. But they're your people, not mine; do you think they dislike him because they're racist or because…" — she shuffled her feet for a moment — "or because he's a flake where anyone not named Blake is concerned?"

Pyrrha frowned. "I think … I think it is not unfair to my people to say that it is probably a little of both. I suppose I can see why his behaviour might draw ire—"

"I seem to recall that you had some ire for me when I did something similar," Sunset said mildly.

"And you deserved it," Pyrrha said. "Which means that Sun may also, but at the same time, I am not sure … I think, but cannot prove, that it would be more tolerated from a human, certainly from a human of good family."

"And yet," Sunset replied, "I am the Swordbearer."

"I didn't say my home was a cesspit of bigotry," Pyrrha pointed out. "Only that it didn't help." A smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "But yes, you have an epithet. And you are an honorary Mistralian, at least in the eyes of some. How does that feel?"

"I'm trying to decide if I like it more or less than the people dressed up as me in their leather jackets," Sunset replied, grinning. "I think … it's not quite as good."

Pyrrha chuckled, covering her mouth as she laughed. "I'm very happy for you," she said, "truly."

"Hey, you two!" Ruby called out to them as she and Jaune approached them down the corridor. "Congratulations!"

"Yeah, you did great out there," Jaune added. As he approached Pyrrha, he reached out to her, one hand gently brushing down her arm, lingering for half a moment upon the strip of gold silk tied above her elbow, before he took her hands and leaned forward to kiss her.

"Although," Ruby went on, her eyes on Sunset, "did you really have to—?"

"Use so much magic out there?" Sunset guessed.

"I thought you were going to hold back," Ruby pointed out, "at least a little."

"I was," Sunset admitted. "But honour was at stake."

"Because Trixie…" Ruby trailed off. "That wasn't her semblance, was it?"

"I'm pretty sure that Trixie's semblance is the illusions she used to throw me off a couple of times," Sunset replied. "That … was magic. As I was saying to Pyrrha, I don't know where it comes from, but it's there."

"So … is that just a thing now?" Jaune asked. "Magic is just … out there?"

"It already was," Sunset pointed out. "The Maidens, Ruby's silver eyes—"

"Okay, but there are only four Maidens, and the only people with silver eyes we've heard of are Ruby and her mom," Jaune replied.

"Only because I don't know the rest of my mom's family," Ruby pointed out. "Mom left her home beyond the kingdoms to come to Beacon, and she had a father who didn't want her to go … I might have all kinds of silver-eyed relatives on the other side of the mountains." Ruby paused, her head dropping a little. "I could have all kinds of relatives on the other side of the mountains. Mom's relatives, a whole other side of the family."

"Would … would you like to find out, for certain?" Pyrrha asked.

"Yeah," Ruby said at once. "Yeah, I would, but … like … you mean, like, go there?"

"It is only on the other side of the mountains," Pyrrha said.

"'Only'?" Jaune repeated. "You say that as though they aren't pretty big mountains, and a big country on the other side. I think the east of Sanus might be bigger than Vale is."

"It is not so large," Pyrrha said. "Anima is bigger by some distance."

"Anima is civilised," Sunset pointed out. "It has airships and railways linking its towns and cities together. Does the east of Sanus even have towns? Or roads? Or anything but wild men in their reed huts?"

"My mom didn't live in a reed hut, Sunset," Ruby said reproachfully. "People who live outside the kingdoms are … well, they're outside the kingdoms; that doesn't make them primitive. Although it might make them hard to find."

"Yet that is no reason not to try," Pyrrha said. "Didn't you say that Professor Ozpin uses traders who brave the wilds to spread word about Beacon and try to lure the brave and the bold like your mother to Vale and Beacon?"

Ruby's brow furrowed. "'Lure' makes it sound like he's doing something wrong," she pointed out.

Pyrrha folded her arms, shifting slightly uncomfortably in place, her red sash swaying back and forth by the movement of her hips. "Well," she murmured. "One could say that … but leave that for the moment, or I fear that we shall wander very far off topic. What I was going to say is that there is no reason you could not accompany a caravan — I'm sure they would be glad of the protection; in Mistral, no caravan feels safe without at least one huntsman to protect it — and they will know either where the main gathering places for the population are, or else the people of the beyond will come to them; I cannot believe they simply wander around a wilderness looking for people; surely, that would be no way to turn a profit?"

Ruby giggled a little. "Yeah, that would be kinda stupid, wouldn't it? What you say makes a lot more sense. That … I mean, I'm not a huntress yet, but I do know how to shoot and kill grimm, so maybe … what do you think Dad would say? Do you think Professor Ozpin would let me go?"

"If you were to go during next spring vacation and not ask for time off from school, then I don't see what business it would be of Professor Ozpin's," Pyrrha said, with a touch of the tart entering into her normally sweet voice.

"We are somewhat at his service, are we not?" Sunset pointed out. "Ruby, are you considering this?"

"I mean … I wasn't, until a few seconds ago," Ruby said, "but now … yeah. Why not? If Mom has relatives out there, why shouldn't I want to meet them? Why shouldn't I get to meet them?"

"Fair enough," Sunset conceded. "And, although we are at Professor Ozpin's service, we are his retainers, not his slaves, and thus entitled to a little bit of time off, and why not during vacation? But even so … it's a big country, and a wild country, and far away. I accept that the people who live there might not deserve to have me turn my nose up at them, but nevertheless … places established outside the kingdoms have a lower survival rate than attempts to expand the kingdoms, at least it seems that way." She looked away. Don't be down on this, if it's what she wants. "Will you at least ask Yang to come with you? She might even want to meet your mother's side of the family herself."

"Well," Ruby said, "I mean, yeah, I will, but … I was thinking … would you three mind coming with me?" She smiled slightly. "I can't promise a big fancy house to stay in once we get … wherever, but it would be cool to share … I mean, I know it isn't really my culture, but it kind of is my culture because it was my mom's culture and so that means that I have a right to it, don't I?"

"I think so, yeah," Jaune agreed.

"An indelible right," Pyrrha said. "And we would be delighted to accompany you, if you would have us. Wouldn't we, Sunset?" she added, looking Sunset in the eye.

Alright, alright, Pyrrha! "Yes," Sunset said. "Yes, we certainly would. A road trip into Darkest Sanus, won't that be fun?"

Dirt and bugs and cold hard ground to sleep on. It's the life of a huntress, I suppose.

Dirt and bugs and cold hard ground to sleep on and answers for Ruby.


"I … really mean that, even if you think I don't," Sunset said. "If this is what you want, and you want us to do it with you, then we'll be right there. And you're right, it is your culture." She smiled. "Live in as many mud huts as you want to."

"Sunset!"

"I'm kidding!" Sunset assured her. "We shall all go into the east together, and I shall refrain from being snooty or superior to anyone. I'll try, anyway."

"Try hard, please," Ruby said, before the smile returned to her face. "This is going to be terrific; who knows who or what we might find out there, other silver-eyed warriors, or just other Roses, maybe my grandfather is still alive, maybe I've got cousins, or … do you think they'll hold a grudge that my mom left home and went to Beacon even though they didn't want her to?"

"How should we know?" Jaune asked. "We won't know unless you meet them. And if you meet them, and they don't want to know you, then that's their loss, and we can come back home again, but if you stay away because you're afraid of how they'll react, of how they think about your mom … it might feel better than taking the risk, but I think, in the end, you'll regret that you didn't take the chance while you had it."

"You … you're probably right," Ruby murmured. "You are right," she said, louder and more firmly. "Thanks, Jaune, I needed to hear that." The smile slipped off her face. "Wait, no, we can't go next spring because we promised Amber that we'd take her to Mistral, didn't we?"

"What we said," Sunset said, "what Pyrrha guaranteed, is that we would take Amber to visit Mistral and Atlas before she had to go into hiding, but that can't happen because she's going into a sort of hiding with you and Yang and your father in just a couple of days' time, and we can't go to Mistral or Atlas, let alone both, before that. We will just have to hope that Professor Ozpin lets us stay in touch with Amber and that we can take her out in…" Sunset paused. They had promised Amber first, but on the other hand, having decided that they would all make this trip eastwards to see if any of Ruby's line yet dwelt in the untamed wilderness, it would be as well not to put that off either, lest Ruby start to think that they — or Sunset, at least — were backsliding on their commitment. "No, I've got it, what if … what if the next break Amber goes to visit Atlas with Ciel — she seems to get on well with Ciel — and Blake; and maybe Penny could go with her as well—"

"Unless Penny would like to come with us," Pyrrha said.

"Where is Penny?" Ruby asked. "She was right behind us when Jaune and I left to come down here and congratulate—"

"You could have waited for me!" Penny cried out plaintively as she ran down the corridor, her footsteps heavy upon the metal floor. She dashed past Ruby and Jaune to grab both Sunset and Pyrrha, enveloping them both around the waist, squeezing them so hard that Sunset winced in pain.

And the only reason that it was only a wince was because all the air to do anything else had been driven out.

"Well done, you two!" Penny cried. "That was so much fun to watch!"

Pyrrha managed a weak laugh as she patted Penny on the shoulder. "We're very happy we could oblige, Penny."

"What took you so long, Penny?" Ruby asked. "I thought you were going to follow us."

"I did!" Penny declared, releasing Sunset and Pyrrha, if only so that she could put her hands on her hips while she glared — as much as it was possible for Penny to glare, anyway — at Ruby. "But I got stuck behind a whole crowd of people all pouring out of the stands, and I couldn't get through them, and you two didn't even notice!"

Jaune laughed nervously. "Sorry, Penny. I guess we just assumed that you were behind us. You're right, we should have made sure."

"It's okay," Penny said. "You wanted to congratulate Pyrrha and Sunset. But what were you talking about when I got here?"

"I'm going over the mountains to find my long-lost relatives in the uncolonised east!" Ruby squealed.

"And we're all going with her," Jaune added.

"Really?" Penny cried. "That sounds so cool and exciting! When are you going, can I come with you, what's it like out there?"

"We have no idea, that's one of the reasons I'm going," Ruby said. "And of course you can come with us. Although that means that you won't be able to go to Atlas with Amber, if Sunset's plans work out."

"Amber won't be coming with us?" Penny asked.

"I don't think that would be a good idea, even if the notion didn't make Professor Ozpin keel over and die from a heart attack," Sunset muttered. "It's one thing to take Amber to a civilised city, a safe haven of humanity as Professor Port would have it, but it's quite something else to take her into the middle of somewhere with no help for miles around, where anyone could come upon us. We can take that risk, but we can't take it with Amber. No, it's best if she goes to Atlas while we're out traipsing through the wilds, and then in summer break, we can take her to Mistral. Assuming, of course, that Professor Ozpin lets her out."

"It shouldn't be Professor Ozpin's choice," Pyrrha said, "but Amber's. We should demand the right to stay in touch with her. I am sure that she would like to hear from us, especially if the alternative is complete and utter isolation from the wider world."

"But what if Salem's people trace our calls and find out where she is?" asked Ruby.

"There must be some way to make sure that doesn't happen," Sunset replied. "Like encrypting calls or something; the Atlesian military must have something. I'll talk to Twilight about it."

"The next match, between Weiss Schnee and Flash Sentry of Beacon and Sabine Silverband and Reynard Kerak of Atlas, will begin in ten minutes!" Professor Port declared.

"But not right now," Sunset added, "because I really want to see this fight. I know that Pyrrha doesn't want to join me, but do any of the rest of you feel like watching Weiss and Flash win?"

"Not really," Ruby said.

"I was going to go and check on Amber," Pyrrha said. "As I said to Sunset, we should take the burden off Yang as soon as possible."

"That sounds like a great idea," said Ruby. "And we can ask Yang about coming on the trip east while we're there!"

"Indeed," Pyrrha agreed. "Although, before we descend back down to Beacon, I should probably call on my mother."

XxXxX​

"I hope I didn't let you down out there," Starlight said as she and Trixie walked across the arena towards the exit. "I know you were counting on me taking out Pyrrha in order to snatch the win."

"Starlight," Trixie declared as she reached across Starlight to put a hand on her far shoulder. "It isn't possible for you to let me down."

Starlight looked at her.

"What?" Trixie asked. "Trixie is being serious. You couldn't let me down. Or at least you'd have to work very, very hard."

"You don't seem very disappointed," Starlight said.

"Well, I'm glad that it comes across that way," said Trixie.

Starlight shook her head as she reciprocated Trixie's gesture, draping her arm across Trixie's shoulders. "You can be upset, you know, if you want to be."

"Trrrixie is not upset!" Trixie insisted. "Trixie admits that she is a little disappointed that we couldn't bring home a win for Atlas at the start of the day and make the General proud, and she is a little concerned that Rainbow Dash and Blake and all our classmates are going to be disappointed with us, and Trixie is a little disappointed with herself too for the fact that she wasn't quite Great and Powerful enough when it counted—"

"So not upset at all, then?"

"But," Trixie went on, "I am also aware…" She smiled, a small smile but noticeable. "You won't take it personally if Trixie is kind of thrilled about what she did with her magic today, will you?"

Starlight laughed. "Not at all," she said. "Not at all."

The two of them fell silent for a moment as they listened to the cheering and the singing of the crowd.

"Some of them are still cheering for us, right?" Trixie asked.

"Oh, yeah," Starlight agreed. "Totally."

Trixie didn't care if Starlight was actually right or not; what mattered was that they could both believe it, even if it was just pretend.

And so, even if they were pretending, they both continued to march towards the exit, with the cheers of their fans ringing in their ears.

"Hey, Starlight," Trixie said, "Sunset agreed to help Trixie become even grrrrrreater and more powerrrrful by mastering her magic!"

"Really?" Starlight asked. "She can do that?"

"Apparently," Trixie said. "Maybe, anyway. Won't that be awesome? Think of all the things that Trixie will be able to do, the battles that Trixie will be able to fight, the glllory that Trrrrixie will be able to win! Think of all the people that Trixie will be able to help with all their monster problems."

"Just think, you might become so great and powerful that you won't need a team anymore."

"Oh, don't worry, Starlight," Trixie declared. "The Grrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrrrixie will always need her glamourous assistant and her humble researcher." She paused. "We could maybe do without Tempest, though."

"Trixie!" Starlight said reproachfully.

"Well, after all the snide, smarmy, and disrespectful remarks that Tempest has made about Trixie, it would serve her right if I did punt her from the team, and right out of the academy," Trixie said. "She wouldn't be smirking then, would she?"

Starlight didn't reply to that as the two of them reached the mouth of the corridor and passed beneath it, out of sight of the spectators in the stands. Despite the sudden shade — what was up with the lights down here? — it was still possible to make out Sunburst, Rainbow Dash, Twilight Sparkle, Maud Pie, and Blake waiting for them down there in the tunnel.

Surprisingly, none of them looked too disappointed.

Actually, no, that wasn't really very surprising, was it? They were just those sorts of people, after all; the idea of being disappointed wouldn't really register with them.

Except for Dash, maybe, but she was nice enough not to show it.

Twilight took a step towards them, clasping her hands together over her heart. "Starlight, Trixie … we're so sorry."

"Thanks, Twi, but we're okay," Starlight said. "Really."

"Really?" Rainbow asked.

"Well … mostly really," Starlight corrected herself. "We're not…"

"We're not falling to pieces over it," Trixie said. "But thank you anyway, Twilight Sparkle."

"Abrasion," Maud said, "is the process by which two rocky surfaces rub against one another. When that happens, the softer rock will be rubbed away more than the harder rock. That's a natural law. But it doesn't mean that the rock which was worn away isn't a perfectly good rock."

In different circumstances, Trixie might not have liked being compared to a soft rock very much, but in the circumstances, she said, "Thank you, Maud. Trixie supposes that in the right, or wrong, circumstances, even shining diamonds can be cut." She paused. "Can sapphires cut diamonds?"

"Apparently, yes," said Rainbow Dash.

"Thanks for your semblance out there, Blake," Starlight said. "I'm not sure I got the best use out of it, but it definitely felt as though it kept me in the fight."

"You could have used dust more with the clones," Blake said. "But, honestly, I think your real mistake was that Starlight would have been better off facing Sunset, and Trixie going up against Pyrrha. No offence, but … the fact that you had to use my clones so much in the forest shows that there was a skill difference between you and Pyrrha when it came to close combat; Trixie might have been able to keep her at a distance."

"I don't know, she's pretty quick on her feet," Trixie said. "And besides, Trixie will never apologise for having faith in Starlight."

"More to the point," Rainbow said, "what was with all of the … what was that you were doing?"

"Magic, obviously," Trixie said.

"Really?" Twilight gasped.

"Magic," Maud repeated. "Magic doesn't—"

"Magic does exist," Twilight said. "I just didn't … I mean—"

"You didn't believe the Grrrreat and Powerrrrrful Trrrrixie when she told you that Trrrrixie had magical powers?!" Trixie demanded, putting her free hand on her hip. "You've seen Trrrrrixie teleporting! You've seen Trixie produce a child's lost cat out of Trixie's hat!"

"Actually, Blake saw that; Twilight was fixing the relay tower," Starlight reminded her.

"You saw Trixie do magic and you didn't tell me?" Twilight demanded as she turned to Blake.

Blake shrugged. "I … didn't think about it. A grenade blew up in my face and drove the thoughts out of my mind."

"Right," Twilight winced. "Sorry." She returned her attention to Trixie. "So you really do have magical powers, since when?"

"Since forever!" Trixie shouted, her voice echoing off the corridor walls. "Trixie is always telling you all so!"

"Yeah, but then when you try to demonstrate it," Rainbow said. "It … doesn't often work."

Trixie opened her mouth to refute that, but found to her a-little-more-than-mild irritation she couldn't. Her magical powers, great and powerful though they were, had an incredibly annoying habit of not working on command.

"Unfortunately, you have a point," Trixie admitted through gritted teeth. "But that is what Sunset has offered to help me with."

"Really?" Rainbow said. "Awesome, if she thinks she can."

"I know, it is awesome."

"Perhaps," Blake murmured. "Aren't you a little worried about the attention that you might receive if you start using magic all the time?"

Trixie stared at Blake in astonishment. Rainbow didn't, but then, Rainbow had had a lot longer to get used to Blake's eccentricities.

"Why would Trrrrixie be worried about that?" Trixie asked. "Being famous is amazing! If you don't like it, Trixie will gladly serve as the subject for your TV show." She grinned. "Trixie imagines that Jetsam Ackles would play her rather well."

"That's not really the point," Blake said. "The point is that … the point is that nobody thinks that magic exists at the moment, or at least, not many people do," she corrected herself, with a glance at Twilight. "If it comes out that it does, and that you have it—"

"Then Trixie will be the centre of attention, and she'll deserve it," Rainbow said. "It's nobody else's business but hers; there's no reason why it should affect anyone else, right?"

Well, you two have something going on, Trixie thought. Of course, they'd all known that for a while now, ever since that Mountain Glenn operation that Team TTSS had been dragged in on and which they had never bothered to properly explain, but it was clear that whatever it was hadn't ended at Mountain Glenn, or they wouldn't have needed to act like this over … whatever it was.

Did they know something about magic? Something that made Blake think it was a bad idea for Trixie to use hers openly because … because of the other magical people that they might know? People who didn't want it to be found out that they had magic? Well, that was their choice, Trixie supposed, even if she couldn't understand it one bit; who wouldn't want to be known and celebrated for all their stupendous talents and monumental powers? But, if they were so stupid as to want to hide their lights under a bushel, then Trixie supposed that they were allowed to do so.

What they weren't allowed to do, what nobody was allowed to do, was tell Trixie that she wasn't able to shine as brightly as she possibly could.

And the idea that she ought to … Blake might want to come to Atlas, but she clearly had a lot to learn if she thought that humility had any place in the city in the clouds.

Up in the north, you didn't hold back or hide what you were capable of, and Rainbow ought to make that clear to her if she hadn't already.

"Uh, no," Blake said, "no, of course not, Trixie's the only one who matters here."

"Trixie and her magic," Twilight said. "Can I run a few tests on you? How does it feel to have magic inside of you? Can you feel it? How do you … use it?"

"Hey, Twi, come on, can't all of that kind of thing wait until after the tournament is over?" Rainbow asked.

Twilight laughed a little bit as she scratched the back of her head. "Yeah, right, of course," she said. "I mean, apart from anything else, we don't want to miss Weiss' fight, do we?"

XxXxX​

"Pow!" Diana cried as she cradled an invisible gun in her hands and mimed Pyrrha shooting the wand out of Trixie's hand. That had been an awesome shot, Pyrrha was so cool!

XxXxX​

"I guess your dad won't be very happy," Saphron said, bouncing Adrian gently up and down on her lap as she looked over at Terra.

"No, he won't," Terra replied. "Mom will, though."

"And so will Jaune, and the rest of the family," Saphron said. "So I'm afraid your dad is just going to have to live with it."

"Don't worry, I don't have a lot of sympathy for him on this one," Terra replied. "After all, Mom's been living with the disappointment of Haven's poor performance for years; now, he can do the same for once."

"Perhaps," Saphron said. "Atlas still has three more matches to go."

"Yes, there's that too," Terra agreed. "But in the meantime," — she leaned forward and smiled at Adrian — "Auntie Pyrrha just notched up another victory."

Saphron's eyebrows rose. "I thought you didn't like that."

"I'm still not sure that I do," Terra replied. "But then I thought about how my mom would react if I had Pyrrha Nikos as my sister-in-law, and you know, the thought of her screeching … is quite terrifying, actually, but I guess I'll have to get used to it."

Saphron giggled. "How will she react to having a princess of the old blood in the family?"

"Oh, Pyrrha has no idea what she's letting herself in for, poor thing," Terra lamented. "I hope Jaune's worth it. No offence."

"That's not really the point, is it?" Saphron replied. "It doesn't matter what he's worth, only what she thinks he's worth."

XxXxX​

"Oof," Juturna winced. "Rough luck for Lausus, huh?"

"He brought it on himself," Turnus said. "But I will shield him from at least some of the consequences nevertheless." He shook his head. "To bet against the Champion of Mistral. I understand that the odds were good, but nevertheless … madness."

"Do you think that Pyrrha's semblance could be something like mind control? You notice how whenever an opponent seems like they might be able to match her, they start to go off their game?"

"Her semblance is clearly telekinesis," Camilla said. "It explains her performance in the duel with Cinder Fall perfectly. She manipulates the objects around her. It is an enviable skill. What you refer to, Juturna, is that her enemies are so dazzled by her reputation that their nerve fails them at the moment of crisis."

Turnus looked at her over Juturna's head. "You think it's all morale?"

"Is it not, my lord?" Camilla asked. "Is the battle not decided as much by how much one side believes they can win, as by skill or the quality of their weapons. It was the same with Trixie Lulamoon: she lost her nerve, and so, she was undone."

"She was undone because Sunset has cool powers," Juturna said. "Why is it that some people get semblances like that, and I can turn into a mist cloud?"

"It is all random chance," Camilla said softly.

"That is not what all say," Turnus replied.

"I know, my lord, and I know what others say," Camilla said. "However, the idea that our semblances reflect our essences, and that we may be thus judged by the quality, the usefulness, the versatility of our semblances, and that people may, by our semblances, claim to know us as people … to speak frankly, my lord, I find the idea almost too dire to contemplate."

XxXxX​

The fabric of Pyrrha's sash brushed lightly against the patch of bare skin between her microskirt and her stockings as she climbed the steps up to her mother's box. Her footsteps rang upon the metal steps, just as Sunset's steps did as she followed behind her.

As yesterday, Hestia was waiting at the entrance to the box, maintaining her mother's privacy in the absence of any other, greater service that she could provide.

She curtsied to Pyrrha. "Good morning, young m'lady, and congratulations upon your victory."

"Good morning, Hestia, and thank you," she said. "I hope you slept well."

"Well enough, young m'lady, and thank you for asking," Hestia said. "I fear … well, that's for my lady to tell you, I'm sure. I won't keep you any longer."

"It is Pyrrha without, I take it, Hestia?" Mother called.

"Yes, m'lady, and young Miss Shimmer too," Hestia replied.

"I should hope so," Mother muttered. "Then pray, do not stand upon the threshold, both of you, enter, enter!"

As Hestia stepped aside, Pyrrha led the way in, with Sunset just a step behind her. Mother rose from her seat more quickly than she had done yesterday, perhaps because she had not been sitting so long, and so, there had not been the time for her leg to go stiff. In any case, she rose quickly enough and seemed to lean upon her cane less.

"Good morning, Mother," Pyrrha said. "How do you feel?"

"I slept poorly," Mother complained, "but my leg felt better after an absence of sleep, for it does not trouble me now. Or perhaps I am simply invigorated by a victory. Come." She stepped forward and placed a hand on Pyrrha's face; her skin felt wrinkled where it touched Pyrrha's smooth cheek, but it also felt strong nevertheless. Her lips, as she kissed Pyrrha first upon the right cheek and then the left — moving her hand aside — were dry, despite the fact that refreshments were on offer.

"Another victory," Mother said. "Another obstacle surmounted, another step towards greatness taken."

"Yes, Mother," Pyrrha said. "I hope that I performed satisfactorily in your eyes."

"You had to use your semblance," Mother said. "Did you not?"

"Yes, I did," Pyrrha replied. "Starlight was quite skilled; she gave me little choice."

"I do not fault you for it; that's what it's there for," Mother replied. "But I know that you dislike using it."

"As I said, Mother, I had little choice," Pyrrha repeated.

"There is no shame in it; that is why I had you practise using your semblance in such a way," Mother reminded her. "As for my satisfaction: you did well. You faced a skilled opponent, and you overcame her, in spite of her own semblance — or rather, the semblance that she had borrowed from this Blake Belladonna, the Princess of Menagerie."

"The warrior princess, my lady," Sunset said, with a slight trace of a smile. She cleared her throat and curtsied. "Forgive me, my lady, I should have bid you good morrow."

"I did not say aught to you, Miss Shimmer, when I ought to have, so there is nothing to apologise for," Mother replied. "And yes, you are quite right, she is the Warrior Princess of Menagerie. I must confess I find that I regret that your paths will not cross in this tournament. It would have been quite a spectacle in the eyes of the public, and if she is skilled with her semblance, then it would have been quite a match for those of us who can appreciate the martial art, also."

"I, too, regret it, Mother," Pyrrha said. "Although I am also relieved; she would have run me a close race, I have no doubt, for in addition to her semblance, Blake is most fierce, valiant, bold, and skilful besides. I … would not be overconfident against her."

"You make disappointment war with relief in my heart," Mother said dryly, so dryly it was impossible for Pyrrha to tell if she was being sincere or not. "In any case, you have done well and triumphed again, and now, the solo battles are before you." She paused for a moment. "That was a very pretty light show, Miss Shimmer."

Sunset coughed into one hand. "Aha, yes, my lady."

"In all earnestness," Mother said, "thank you for your contribution; you should feel proud and leave the tournament with your head held high."

Sunset bowed the head that she had just been instructed to hold high. "I will, my lady, and thank you."

"Mother," Pyrrha said, and yet after saying it she paused for a moment, mulling over the words. Eventually, she decided that to be direct was probably the best course, and so, she went on, "Phoebe Kommenos is dead."

Mother's eyebrows rose. "'Dead'? How?"

"Murdered, my lady," Sunset said softly. "In Vale, last night." She did not mention that they were reasonably sure of the murderer.

"I … see," Mother said, in equally soft tones, although what, precisely, she saw remained unspoken. "How do you know of this?"

"One of Team Pastel … accused Pyrrha of the deed," Sunset said.

"He was mad with grief," Pyrrha explained. "He meant no ill."

"'Meant no ill'? By accusing you of base murder?" Mother demanded.

"The matter was resolved, my lady, have no fear," Sunset said. "The Haven students were a great help; they came to the aid of Pyrrha and of her reputation, and with their help … the student in question withdrew his allegations and his person."

"I see," Mother muttered. "Nevertheless, I am minded to ask you to challenge him on Pyrrha's behalf, Miss Shimmer."

"I'd much rather you didn't, Mother," Pyrrha said quickly. "And Sunset, I would rather you didn't do it, even if you are asked."

Sunset licked her lips, her tail twitching a little between her legs. "My lady … my gratitude towards you notwithstanding … my first loyalty and devotion are to Pyrrha; therefore, I must beseech you not to put me in a position where I must, with all due sorrow and regret, refuse you."

"Fear not, Miss Shimmer; your loyalty is where it should be," Mother said, with a slight quirk of her lips. "Nevertheless, I am concerned by what may come of this? Where one student goes, the police may follow, however patently ridiculous it is that you should be involved. In my legal affairs, I am advised by the firm of Ward, Atticus, and Crane, who have an office in Vale as well as in Mistral. I will supply you their contact details. If anything comes of this, then contact them, and they will clean up the mess."

"We will, my lady," said Sunset.

Mother nodded. "So," she said, "so ends the House of Kommenos. So dies the history they made, so dies the virtue in their blood. I grieve for Mistral, but not for Phoebe Kommenos, as I did not grieve her mother. Pyrrha, let this not distract you, not for one second. Immortal glory lies before you; think only on that."

Pyrrha bowed her head. "Yes, Mother."

XxXxX​

General Ironwood was standing in the centre of the bridge of the Valiant, a hive of activity bustling around him, when he heard the door slide open behind him. He heard footsteps on the floor approaching, but he did not turn around.

"Sir," Schnee said, her voice crisp and clear.

"How did it go, Schnee?" asked Ironwood.

Schnee's voice held a little displeasure in it as she said, "Lulamoon and Glimmer … were defeated, sir."

Ironwood's jaw tightened for a moment. "That's unfortunate," he said. "I hope that they aren't taking it too hard." Lulamoon in particular could be a little … highly strung at times; he hoped that she didn't allow this defeat to deflate her. It was, after all, only a tournament; prestige might be at stake, but lives weren't on the line. Nobody would die because she and Glimmer had been overcome. He would try and find some time to check in on them later. "How was the match?"

"They fought hard, sir," Schnee informed him. "Lulamoon displayed some … interesting abilities."

"Really?"

"Yes, sir," Schnee said. "I'm not entirely sure how to describe it."

"You intrigue me, Schnee," Ironwood said. "I might have to review the footage later."

"You don't seem very disappointed, sir," Schnee observed.

"Any loss is disappointing, Schnee, but of all the losses we could have, tournament losses are hardly the kind to get upset about," Ironwood replied. "And besides, with no disrespect to Lulamoon or Glimmer, they were up against it from the start. The fact is, Schnee, that Atlas got unlucky at the match selections last night." Against different opponents — against the Shade teams, or the Haven teams, against most of the other teams, to be honest — he would have expected Lulamoon to progress to the final round. "Not only Lulamoon and Glimmer being pitched against Miss Nikos and Miss Shimmer, but Silverband and Kerak going up against your sister and Mister Sentry next." Silverband and Kerak appeared to be as confident as the stunt they had planned was — in Ironwood's opinion — unwise, but Ironwood … well, he knew how capable a Schnee could be, and that family semblance of their was quite something.

He wasn't entirely discounting Silverband and Kerak — gods knew that they were motivated enough for this upcoming match — but he was putting most of his hopes for Atlas in this tournament on the two pairs of Flynt and Katt and Dash and Soleil.

Of course, we would have been better placed with Penny. But that horse had well and truly bolted, and besides, of all the reasons to bemoan what had happened with Penny, the fact that she wouldn't be representing Atlas in the later stages of the tournament was very definitely a minor one.

All of his students would do their best, he had no doubt about that, just as he was certain that Lulamoon and Glimmer had done their best against capable opponents.

In any case, he had other things to worry about than Atlesian progress through the tournament.

"Des Voeux," he said, "get me Spitfire on the line."

"Aye aye, sir," des Voeux answered, the young lieutenant's fingers flying across the control panel in front of him. "Wonderbolt Leader, this is Valiant, do you copy?"

Spitfire's voice emerged onto the bridge. "This is Wonderbolt Leader, receiving loud and clear."

"Spitfire, this is Ironwood," Ironwood declared. "How are the grimm looking down there?"

"I've just completed my second flyover of the eastern concentration, sir," Spitfire said. "I'm certain there are more of them than there were yesterday."

"That confirms ground radar readings," Ironwood said. Reports — reports that Colonel Sky Beak was good enough to share with him, even though reading between the lines of what the colonel didn't say, it seemed that he wasn't supposed to — from Valish huntsmen stationed in the outlying towns and villages had suggested that the grimm which had been virtually besieging those areas for the last few months had begun to withdraw over the last few days, but it was more recently than that that a mixture of ground radar and aerial and ground-based surveillance had begun to pick up large numbers of grimm gathering in the vicinity of Vale itself. They were not yet at the gates of Vale — they were massing outside of artillery range of his troops on the Green Line, let alone small arms — but they were close enough to rush the gates if they so chose, or if something prodded them to do so.

They were definitely up to something. Or Salem was.

It was difficult, if not impossible, to determine when something was her doing and when the grimm were just being their natural destructive selves. There was enough bad blood in Vale, between anti-Atlesian and anti-faunus sentiments, that the grimm might have been drawn in this direction naturally.

Except grimm usually stay away from places like Vale because they know that they'll never break through the defences of a great city. Not without a breach.

Speaking of which, it was surprising — and a little alarming — that there were still so many grimm in Vale even after the losses they had taken during the Breach. No matter how many grimm they killed, more of them just sprung up out of the ground.

"Are their numbers still increasing?"

"Yes, sir," Spitfire said. "I think a lot of them are coming in at night, but I can see beowolf packs and lone ursae drifting in beneath me."

"What about aerial grimm?" asked Ironwood.

"Skies are clear, sir," Spitfire said. "But, the speed they move, I wouldn't rule out the idea of them joining the party after it gets started."

"Understood," Ironwood said. "What are they doing now?"

"From what I can see, they're just standing around, sir," Spitfire said. "Waiting, maybe. I'm not sure what they're waiting for, but they don't look to be in any hurry."

"Does it look like a horde forming to you?"

Spitfire didn't reply for a second. "I guess it could be, sir," she finally said. "I've never seen a horde form up before. I can't see an apex alpha, but they do all look pretty small from up here. But I wouldn't say that they're a horde yet; in fact, I think if we shoot them up now, then we could break them up and discourage any further concentration. Requesting permission to begin strafing runs against the target."

"Negative, Spitfire."

"Sir," Spitfire's voice was tinged with outrage. "We have a chance to take these creeps out, and nobody in Vale has to know they were even here."

"And that will be my recommendation to our Valish allies," Ironwood told her. "Continue to observe the grimm until I've spoken with General Blackthorn."

"Since when do we need Valish permission to do what has to be done, sir?" Spitfire asked.

"Since it became a condition of their hospitality, Spitfire," Ironwood said. "Ironwood out."

"Thank you, sir," Colonel Sky Beak said. He, like Schnee, was standing a little behind Ironwood.

Ironwood glanced at the Valish officer over his shoulder; he stood awkwardly, diffidently, out of place in his green Valish uniform amidst all of the Atlesian white on display, like one of the animals caged in Jacques Schnee's menagerie, a creature that had wandered somewhere he didn't belong.

"It's no trouble, Colonel," Ironwood said. "I've no doubt that General Blackthorn will want this dealt with quickly and see things the way that Wonderbolt Leader and I do."

"I certainly want this dealt with quickly," Sky Beak said. "The sooner the grimm are gone, the better."

Ironwood turned away from him. "Des Voeux, contact General Blackthorn of the Valish Defence Force; inform him that I'd like to speak to him."

"Yes, sir," des Voeux said, and once again his fingers darted nimbly over the control panel.

Unlike Spitfire, General Blackthorn did not reply at once, but eventually — after perhaps a minute had passed, as the activities of the CIC continued to occur around Ironwood in a well-practised dance — the voice of General Blackthorn filled the bridge. His tone was curt, his voice clipped. "This is Blackthorn. What do you want, General?"

"General Blackthorn," Ironwood said, "I'm contacting you about the five large and growing concentrations of grimm that we're seeing around Vale."

"Not important," Blackthorn said. "The grimm aren't making any hostile movements towards Vale."

"Not yet, General, but they could, once their numbers have swollen large enough," Ironwood said. "I would like to engage them from the air before that happens and inflict sufficient casualties to—"

"No, General," Blackthorn said. "Permission to engage is denied. Firing upon grimm who are far away and pose no danger would do more to panic the people of Vale than letting the grimm alone."

Panic again, always panic. Ironwood fought to keep his voice calm. "General Blackthorn, any panic that might be caused by our fire will be swiftly dispelled once people learn what it was we were shooting at and what the result was. With the grimm dispersed, people will soon calm down and resume watching the tournament coverage."

"That is your opinion, General; it is not mine," Blackthorn declared.

Ironwood took a deep breath. "Do you not think that you should consult with First Councillor Emerald before—?"

"I am responsible for the defence of Vale, not the First Councillor," Blackthorn declared. "General Ironwood, your forces will remain stationary and not engage the grimm, do I make myself clear?"

And what are you going to do if I don't, you obnoxious ass? Ironwood thought. If he decided to do what he thought was best, there would be little that Blackthorn or the Valish Defence Force could do to stop him, but if he did what he wanted, it would provoke an almighty row between Vale and Atlas, and that wasn't something he wanted. And so, though he had to force the words out somewhat, he said, "Understood, General."

"Excellent," Blackthorn said. "Blackthorn out."

Ironwood tightened his grip on his hands as he clasped them behind his back.

"I'm as confused as you, General Ironwood," Colonel Sky Beak said. "I don't understand why Blackthorn would take such a cavalier attitude towards grimm concentrations so close to Vale. It hardly seems like the man I knew."

"Rank and additional responsibility can change a man," Ironwood said. "Regardless of what happened, we have to live with who he is. Have Wonderbolt Leader return to the carrier."

"Aye aye, sir," des Voeux said. "Sir, Polemarch Yeoh of the Mistralians is hailing you."

"Really?" Ironwood said. "Put her on."

"General Ironwood," Polemarch Yeoh's voice filled the air.

"Polemarch Yeoh, to what do I owe the pleasure?" asked Ironwood.

"Perhaps I called to laugh at you for the defeat of your students in the first match," Yeoh suggested lightly. "Or perhaps I called to ask what you're planning to do about all those grimm?"

"The Valish wish me to do nothing," Ironwood said. "They are concerned that a lot of gunfire will cause a panic."

"Really?" Yeoh asked dryly. "That was General Blackthorn's view, I take it?"

"Yes," Ironwood replied. "How—?"

"I don't like that man," Yeoh said. "There is something about him … it cloys at me, like too much perfume. His personnel already have their hands on the Zhenyuan, but I'm stalling handing the Dingyuan over."

Ironwood coughed. "I should tell you, Polemarch, that my Valish liaison officer, Colonel Sky Beak of the Mount Aris Light Dragoons, is standing behind me."

"Really? My Valish liaison officer has come down with a terrible case of food poisoning," Yeoh said. "Colonel Sky Beak, do you feel safer with the grimm gathering than you would if you heard a few rockets going off?"

"Not really, Polemarch."

"Then you are a sensible man, Colonel," Yeoh said. "I understand why you feel that you must go along with General Blackthorn for now, General Ironwood, but I want you to know that if the time ever comes when you feel you must go your own way, you can count on my support.

"And, also, bad luck in that last match."
 
Chapter 50 - And You're About to Fall Down
And You're About to Fall Down


Earlier that morning…

Technically, this meeting with the General only required the two students who would actually be competing in the two-on-two round, Sabine and Reynard, but all four members of Team SABR were standing in General Ironwood's office aboard the Valiant, lined up at attention, facing his desk.

Because, although it was only Sabine and Reynard who would be doing it, it had been their collective idea, and they were here to take collective responsibility for it.

Plus, there was another matter that they wanted to discuss with the General that did involve all four of them.

They had just finished explaining their intentions. Now, General Ironwood, sat in his chair, looked at them, hands clasped together as his elbows rested on the arms of his chair.

"To be quite honest," he said, "I'm a little surprised that you came in here and told me that you planned to do this. You could have sprung it on me just as much as everyone else."

"Perhaps we could, sir," Sabine said, "but that didn't feel quite right. Especially since it … it might come back on you."

"I appreciate your consideration," General Ironwood replied dryly. "And if I told you that I didn't want you to go through with it, would you stop?"

Sabine licked her lips. "I really hope that you won't tell us that, sir."

"That isn't what I asked, Silverband," General Ironwood said, his voice becoming a little firmer.

Sabine was silent for a moment. She glanced at Reynard, and then at Bella and Aaron.

Reynard gave her a slight, but short and sharp, nod of the head.

Sabine took a breath. "If you order us to stand down, sir, then we will stand down, of course." She paused for a moment. "But, as I say, sir, I really hope that you won't do that."

General Ironwood didn't reply straight away. Instead, he got up out of his chair, so that he stood taller than any member of Team SABR, looking down at them instead of up. "So you're saying that it's really up to me?" he asked. "Thank you, Silverband, I appreciate that."

Sabine let out a little cough, that might have become a bit of a laugh under different circumstances. "That wasn't what I meant, sir. I … didn't mean to put you—"

"In a difficult position?" Ironwood asked.

Sabine blinked. "Sir, you're making me start to think it would have been a better idea to take you by surprise."

"It might have been easier to manage afterwards," General Ironwood said dryly. "But I'm still glad that you came to me." He paused for a moment. "Some would say that politics should be left out of the Vytal Tournament."

"Life is political, sir," Sabine said. "And so is this tournament. It's a celebration of peace between four kingdoms that started after the bloodiest war in the history of Remnant; how is that not political? The favourite to win is a Mistralian aristo who could afford the best trainers and the finest quality gear since she was a kid because her society still rests on a foundation of inequality and privilege. And the fact that…" Sabine trailed off, wondering if she might be about to bound over her step with this last point. After all, there was a Schnee on the General's staff.

She felt Reynard's hand close around hers and Bella's hand on the other side of her. They were with her, her team was with her. They were with her, and they looked to her to speak for them here, as many faunus would look to her and Reynard to speak for them in the arena.

"And the fact that a Schnee gets to launder the reputation of her family through competing in this tournament, that's political too," she said quickly, before her nerve could fail her again. "I would also like to point out to the General that there are no rules in the tournament prohibiting anything like this."

She would have liked to have given some examples of times when it had been done before now, but they had only come up with the idea at short notice, and it had been all that they could to surf through the rules and find that there was nothing prohibiting this, without finding some precedents into the bargain.

General Ironwood looked down on them all, his eyes resting particularly upon Sabine. Sabine fought against the temptation to flinch. If she didn't flinch, if she showed that she was firm in her resolve, then the General was more likely to go for this.

She hoped, anyway.

When he spoke, his voice was soft. "Being born with the name of Schnee is not a crime, Silverband. Nor is it an indication of sin."

"I didn't say it was, sir."

"Didn't you?"

"No, sir," Sabine replied. "I wouldn't dream of disrespecting Major Schnee by suggesting otherwise, but at the same time, I don't think you can argue that Weiss Schnee isn't a brand ambassador for the Schnee Dust Company. General, she wears the company logo on her back; she might as well be sponsored by them. Sir, I'll go further than that: if she were only sponsored by the SDC, she'd have enjoyed less of their money."

General Ironwood continued to look down at her. "I'm told that you had a verbal altercation with Dash last night," he said. "I'm told that you called her something that I won't repeat."

Sabine's brow furrowed a little as she tried to work out who could have told the General that. Dash wouldn't tell; she had a lot of faults but she wasn't a tattletale who would go snitching to the General just because she had hurt feelings. But who else could have told on them?

"It was Lady Belladonna," General Ironwood said, as though he could read her mind. "High Chieftainess of Menagerie. It was only the fact that she has no standing in the matter that prevented her from making a complaint against you."

Sabine swallowed. "Sir," she said. "You don't know what it's like—"

"No," General Ironwood said. "I don't. But I do know that that is an ugly phrase, I know that it causes offence, and I know that all Atlas students are expected to hold themselves to a certain standard of behaviour, behaviour which you fell short of last night. Which is why you'll be spending tonight cleaning tables and swabbing the floor in the mess hall on this ship after dinner, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Sabine said at once. She supposed … she supposed that it had been a harsh thing to say. She stood by the spirit of her words; Dash was even now far too quick to bow her head and bite her tongue for the sake of a quiet life with the humans, not willing to stand up for their people. But calling her a house faunus had been going a bit too far; it was a pretty nasty phrase, a legacy of slavery, and according to a lot of new historians, inaccurate as well. She, they, should have been better than that. "Do you want me to apologise, sir?"

"I'll leave that up to you," General Ironwood said. "You're old enough to decide that for yourself. Just as you are old enough to decide to go through with your plan."

Sabine hesitated a moment, waiting for a catch that didn't seem like it was going to come. "Sir … you mean—?"

"I don't like this," General Ironwood said, turning away from them to look out of the window. "I think that a lot of other people won't like it either, although there will be those who are overjoyed by it. There will be those, at least if the four of you are anything to go by, for whom this gives them hope, a sign that they are not forgotten.

"Though you are students, you are all trusted to carry weapons, to fight, to die, to kill if need be. It would be strange, bordering on absurd, if I trusted you to do all those things but not to make decisions like these for yourselves. I don't like this idea, but if it is your intent, if you want to go through with this and you're prepared to face the consequences, then I won't stand in your way."

Sabine would have stood to attention if she hadn't been doing so already. "Yes, sir, thank you, sir." Having received his permission, it seemed a little churlish to bring up the other matter now, but they had agreed to do so, and they might not get another chance. "Sir, General, there is one other matter that we'd like to bring up with you."

General Ironwood turned back to face them once again. "Let's hear it."

"Sir," Sabine said. "We are … we haven't come to a firm decision yet, but … we're thinking about transferring to Shade Academy."

General Ironwood was silent for a moment. "I see," he said softly. "Can I ask why?"

"It's nothing personal, sir," Sabine said quickly. "You've always been fair with us, and we'll miss you when we go."

"But there are things about Atlas which you won't miss," General Ironwood said.

"Yes, sir," Sabine replied. We hear that, in Vacuo, a faunus can stand up. She wasn't sure if that was the kind of thing that she ought to say to the General, however; he might take it to mean that in Atlas they couldn't, and that … that was true, at least in as far as Sabine always felt as though she had to hunch her shoulders just a little, but at the same time … that wasn't the General's fault. She always felt like he was trying his best, and she didn't want to sound like she was blaming him for anything. "Sir, we haven't made a final decision yet, it's just … we thought you should know, just in case. We didn't want to spring that on you either."

"I see," General Ironwood said. "Well, if you transfer as a team, it will certainly be more convenient than some transfers happening this year." He managed to smile slightly. "But, in all seriousness, you'll be missed. I'll be sad to see you go, I think you've done very well here in Atlas, and if I don't get the chance to see that continue, I'll be sorry for it. But at the end of the day, you have to do what's best for your team, and if, as team leader, you decide that what is best for Team Sabre is to take them to Vacuo, then who am I to stand in your way?

"Make the best decision you can for yourself and your teammates, and I'll wish you the best of luck with whatever decision that happens to be."

XxXxX​

"Hey, kids!"

Team WWSR were standing at the docking platform, the far left platform, waiting for a skybus to take them up to the colosseum where Weiss and Flash would soon have their doubles match.

Weiss was not saying anything to any of her teammates. She stood watching the skies, eyes turned upwards towards the floating arena, watching as a skybus descended towards them with what seemed to be an aching slowness.

She was certain that it hadn't been that slow yesterday; what was taking it so long now?

She had one hand upon Myrtenaster's hilt, her fingers clenching and unclenching around the cold metal, not looking at Flash, nor Cardin or Russel, only looking at the skybus as though she could will it to get down here faster.

The voice, that familiar voice with the strong accent, the oral equivalent of a particularly pungent cheese, made her turn her head away from the slowly descending skybus, past the queue of other people — some students, mostly tourists — who were also waiting for the airship, and to Lieutenant Martinez, who was stomping towards them in a dark grey trouser suit and a white blouse.

"Lieutenant?" Russel said. "What are you—?"

"It's about that Atlas student," Weiss said softly, although not so softly that her words didn't reach Lieutenant Martinez. "Isn't it?"

Lieutenant Martinez stopped in front of the four students. With both hands, she fastened up her jacket with one button. "Yeah," she said shortly, her equine tail giving a little toss behind her. "Yeah, that's why I'm here. You kids heard about that."

"You could say that," Flash murmured.

"And you could say that one of the dead girl's teammates stormed right into the dining hall and accused—"

"Russel," Weiss cut him off. "Not in front of the tourists."

Russel seemed to abruptly realise that they were not alone. "Oh. Oh, right, yeah." He coughed. "Sorry."

"I see," Lieutenant Martinez said. "Is there a suspect that I should know about?"

"No," Weiss said. "There's no way that it could have been … her."

Lieutenant Martinez glanced at the queue of people waiting to board the skybus — when it finally arrived. "I take it that we're talking about a certain Mistralian here."

"Yes," Cardin said. "Very much so."

"Right," Lieutenant Martinez muttered. "Well, for what it's worth, I agree; I don't see her as a suspect either."

"But you are here to investigate," Cardin said. "Right?"

"Yes, Cardin, that is why I'm here, instead of watching your match in the comfort of my own living room with my husband and my two boys," Lieutenant Martinez said.

"I wouldn't have thought that this was a Flying Squad case," Cardin went on.

"That makes two of us; I don't think this is a Flying Squad case either," Lieutenant Martinez replied. "Unfortunately, I don't get paid to make that kind of decision." She paused. "Anyway, don't worry about that; I just wanted, while I was here, to wish you good luck. I won't be able to watch the two of you, but I'm rootin' for you anyway."

Weiss pushed back her shoulders a little. "Thank you, Lieutenant; we'll do our best not to disappoint."

"You'd better," Lieutenant Martinez said. "I've been singing your praises all round the office." She smiled. "You all did pretty good last time, by the way."

"Thanks, El-Tee," Russel said.

Lieutenant Martinez looked at Weiss. "Listen … I don't know how it's been, since … I don't know if anyone's said anything, or … but if they are, then don't listen to them. As far as I'm concerned, you're still a diamond. Now go knock 'em dead up there."

"I shall certainly…" Weiss began. "I will," she said.

"We will," Flash added.

"That's the spirit," said Lieutenant Martinez. She glanced upwards to where the skybus was almost upon them. "I'd better leave you to it and get back to work myself." She turned away, her jacket flapping a little as the updraft from the airship's engines caught it, and began to walk back towards the school just as the skybus landed on the docking platform.

The door on the side of the airship opened, and Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby, and Penny emerged.

At least Sunset is staying to watch my match, I suppose, Weiss thought.

And besides, I would wear the self-pity better if I had watched Sunset and Pyrrha. Instead, she had used the time to attempt Summoning, the last aspect of the Schnee semblance that she had not yet unlocked. Once she did so, then she would be able to summon spectral avatars of foes that she had slain — grimm, principally; at least, that was all Weiss had ever seen Winter summon — to fight on her behalf. If she was able to do it, if she was able to unveil the ability at the tournament, then it would no doubt make quite a stir.

Sadly, for all her effort, she still hadn't been able to do it. That last piece of her birthright remained frustratingly beyond her reach.

Instead of explaining all of that, Weiss said nothing more than, "Congratulations, Pyrrha."

"Thank you," Pyrrha said, "and the very best of luck to both of you. I'm sorry that I won't be able to watch, but I have some … pressing matters to take care of."

"Of course," Weiss said, with an easy tone that masked her disappointment. "Think nothing of it. Besides, you'll have other chances to see me, I guarantee it."

XxXxX​

Ruby led the way as the airship rose behind them, carrying Team WWSR and everyone else up to the arena for the next match. Ruby and the rest were heading in the opposite direction, down the path towards the courtyard, her silver eyes glancing this way and that looking for—

Sunset? Ruby stopped, and Jaune coming up behind almost walked right into her. What was Sunset doing here? They'd left her up in the colosseum, but there she was standing in … oh, oh, no, right, no, it wasn't Sunset was it, it was somebody dressed as Sunset. Someone who, now Ruby could actually stop and look at them, had darker skin than Sunset, much darker, like Ciel or Rainbow Dash. Although, if they were such a fan of Sunset that they wanted to dress as her, then surely they would have gone up to the colosseum and watched her match? It wasn't as though they were going to get another chance now.

Ruby's eyes narrowed a little. You know … there seemed something familiar about this girl, dressed as Sunset but kind of looking as though she was skulking about.

The Sunset cosplayer looked in Ruby's direction and seemed to jump a little bit as though she was—

"Ruby?"

Now it was Ruby's turn to jump — just a little bit — as she realised that Pyrrha, Jaune, and Penny had been joined by Yang, Amber, and Dove, and she hadn't even noticed. It was Yang who loomed over her, back bent a little bit to get their faces on more of a level, looking down at her with worried eyes.

"Are you okay?" Yang asked. "You seemed a little bit spaced out there."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Ruby said. "I was just—" She looked back towards the … but she was gone. While Ruby had looked away, she had disappeared; there was an empty space in the crowd where she had been.

"Ruby?" Pyrrha asked.

"I…" Ruby shook her head. "It's nothing, sorry, I just … thought I saw someone, but it was just someone in a costume."

Yang laughed. "Yeah, I saw someone dressed as me — kind of dressed as me anyway; they had my Ember Celica — earlier. Which, you know, I think it's kind of cool, seeing people all dressed up as us." She looked at Pyrrha, a grin spreading across her face. "I bet you've gotten so used to it by now that all the fun has gone out of it."

Pyrrha's cheeks flushed red. "Well … you are … not entirely wrong."

Yang snorted. "I take it you won, then?"

Pyrrha chuckled just a little bit. "Yes. Yes, we won."

"Congrats," Yang said.

"Yes, well done," Amber said, "to you and Sunset." She paused. "Where is Sunset?"

"She stayed behind to watch Weiss Schnee and Flash Sentry in their match," Pyrrha explained.

"Oh, yes, she and Flash were … he was her boyfriend, wasn't he?" Amber asked, putting a hand on Dove's arm.

"Yeah," Jaune agreed. "Although that was a while ago now, or at least I think it was. I don't think Sunset ever said exactly when they broke up."

"Can't have been that long before the Beacon year started; they would hardly have been old enough to date before that," Yang pointed out.

Ruby began to speak, "They could have—"

"They would hardly have been old enough to date," Yang said, forcefully and with emphasis, as she looked down at Ruby.

Ruby rolled her silver eyes. Seriously? Seriously? "Relax, Yang, there's nobody like that."

"Good," Yang said. "I don't want you getting any ideas from Amber and Dove over here."

"'Ideas'?" Ruby asked.

Amber beamed so brightly that Ruby almost watched to squint her eyes. "Dove and I are going to—"

"They don't need to hear it, and they certainly don't need to hear it here," Yang declared. "Just know that it's going to be happening at our place."

"What are you talking about?" asked Penny.

"Penny," Jaune said, his ears burning red as though he'd been lying with them both pressed up against a pillow … somehow; maybe with two pillows. "Even if I were sure that you wanted to know the answer, and I'm not, I don't think I want to be here when it gets explained."

Ruby blinked as she tried to work out what Yang was saying, or not saying. "Are you talking about—?"

"Yes," Yang said quickly. "Yes, I am, but how do you know that?"

"Because I'm fifteen, not ten?" Ruby suggested. "And because I've read the Matter of Vale stories; what do you think Percy and Prince Tristan were doing that was so terrible it brought down the kingdom? They weren't just kissing."

"You told us that Percy and Tristan were in love," Penny pointed out. "So if it wasn't just kissing—"

"They're talking about where calves come from, Penny," Jaune said.

"'Where calves come from'?" Yang asked.

"Your parents showed you cows, didn't they?" Dove suggested.

"My Dad took me out to see the bull in the west field when they let the cows in," Jaune replied. "And then I saw the calf birthed nine months later. You?"

"It was pigs," said Dove.

"How was that?" asked Jaune.

"Filthy," said Dove.

"Could we … could we please talk about something else?" asked Pyrrha, who had turned about the same colour as a beetroot. "Amber, I rejoice at your happiness, but I confess I am not finding this conversation particularly edifying or decorous."

"Sorry," Jaune murmured.

"It's not your fault; I'm the one who brought it up," Yang added. "Sorry, Pyrrha; sorry, everyone, I shouldn't have mentioned it. It's private between Amber and Dove. I suppose it isn't as funny as I thought it was."

"It's quite … there's no need to apologise," Pyrrha said as she looked down at her own feet. "It's just that … where I come from, this isn't something that ladies of a good background discuss in public. Especially not when there are other things to speak of, Ruby."

"Yes! Right!" Ruby cried. "Yang, we were thinking about taking a trip east, and I think that you should come with us."

Yang put her hands on her hips. "East? You mean, like, to Mistral?"

"No, not to Mistral, east of the mountains," Ruby explained. "We're going to see if we can find any of our long lost Rose relatives! Mom's relatives!"

Yang frowned. "You mean like the land beyond the kingdom? East beyond Vale?"

"Uh huh," Ruby agreed. "Where Mom came from?"

"That is a perilous journey," Dove murmured.

"Is it really?" Amber asked. "Is it so dangerous?"

"No, I don't think so," Ruby assured her. "It's not like it was in Olivia's time, Dove; we're not going to get ambushed by huge numbers of grimm. There are people who live there, people like my mom and her family, and there are even traders who travel between Vale and the land beyond, and we're hoping that we can travel with them so we don't have to, like, search the whole of the country looking for a town or whatever. People have been living there since before the Great War; just because neither Vale nor Mistral was able to hold onto it doesn't mean that the land is super dangerous or uninhabitable. It just means that you maybe have to be a little bit tougher to survive there than you do in Vale or Mistral or Atlas."

"So … Vacuo?" Penny suggested.

"Yeah," Ruby agreed. "Yeah, Penny, that makes a lot of sense. It's probably a lot like Vacuo, except it doesn't have a huntsman academy."

Certainly, it didn't deserve to be looked down on the way that Sunset did.

Probably not, anyway.

Yang didn't look very excited about all of this. She wasn't smiling; she wasn't really frowning either, but it almost looked as though she might get there if she was given long enough.

"Sounds like you've got a lot of this figured out already," Yang murmured.

Ruby smiled. "Just a little bit."

Yang nodded. "So … when are you thinking of leaving?"

"Not right now," Ruby said. "Maybe next spring break."

"Amber," Pyrrha said gently. "Unfortunately, we might have to postpone the Mistral trip, but we thought that perhaps—"

"It's fine," Amber said quickly, taking Dove's hand in her own. "It's fine, really. We don't have to go right away, or even the first thing when you're free. Just the fact that you were willing to … I can wait. Please, don't worry yourselves about it."

"Thanks, Amber," Ruby said. "That's really kind of you. It's just … this means a lot to me."

"You want to learn more about your mother and who she was and where she came from," Amber replied. "Believe me, I understand it perfectly. I loved my mother very much, but … there were times when I wondered who my blood family were, what they were like, what it would be like to meet them."

"Mmm," Yang murmured. "This … this all sounds great, Ruby, it really does, but … I don't get why you want me to come with you."

"Because she's your mom too," Ruby insisted. "Because you should know as much as I do; don't you want to know?"

"Yes, I want to know, I just wanted to be sure if you wanted me to know!"

"How many times do I have to say that I'm sorry about that?" Ruby demanded. "Professor Ozpin—"

"You didn't have to listen to Professor Ozpin!" Yang cried. "You could have … do you think of me as your sister … or just your half-sister?"

Ruby clasped her hands together. "You're my sister," she said. "You'll always be my sister. We had the same mom, and I want you to come with me to find out more about her and about where our family comes from. Our family. I never … if Mom were here, she'd tell you that her family was your family just as much as it is my family, and I never wanted to make you feel differently. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Yang whispered.

"No, it isn't," Ruby replied. "I hurt you."

"Yeah," Yang agreed. "But it's still okay." She went quiet for a little bit. "I want to come," she said. "Don't get me wrong, I really want to come, but … what if Mom's relatives don't feel the same way? What if they—?"

"Then we turn around and come straight back home," Ruby declared. "If they don't want both of us, then they don't deserve either of us."

Yang stared down at her. "You … you'd do that, for—?"

"For family?" Ruby asked. "Every time."

Finally, and about time, Yang smiled. "I love you. I love you a whole lot."

Ruby grinned. "Well, I love you even more."

XxXxX​

"Boooo!" Leaf jeered at the TV "Boooo!"

"They're not even on the field yet; you can't see anything," Veil pointed out.

"I know," Leaf said. "I'm starting early."

"Because she's a Schnee?" Veil asked.

"Because her family's company was going to sear their initials into my skin, yeah!"

"Well, when you put it like that," Veil muttered. "I guess you want to see her taken down a peg, huh?"

"Absolutely," said Leaf.

XxXxX​

Rainbow, Blake, Twilight, and Sunset took their seats in the competitors section in the front of the stands. There was no sign yet of Weiss' teammates who weren't taking part in the battle, but Rainbow was sure that they'd be here at some point before the match got under way.

She stared down at the empty arena, the terrain from Trixie and Starlight's match all cleared away, just the white metallic surface, waiting for the next group of combatants to set foot upon it.

"Am I alright to sit here?" Sunset asked. "Or should I go to the other side of the arena where my cheering for Flash and Weiss won't bother you?"

"What are you talking about?" Rainbow demanded. "We're cheering for Weiss and Flash too."

"Oh, are you now?" Sunset demanded. "What, you wouldn't root for me and Pyrrha against Atlas students, but you'll root for Weiss and Flash?"

"She has a point," Blake murmured.

Rainbow, who hadn't looked at Sunset and who didn't look at Blake, folded her arms. "Yeah? Well … you won anyway, right?"

"Rainbow Dash?" Twilight said. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Rainbow muttered.

"Liar," Twilight said. "What's up?"

Rainbow turned her head to look at her. "You don't want to know."

"Obviously, I do want to know, or I wouldn't be asking," Twilight pointed out as she grabbed Rainbow by the chin and turned her head so that she was forced to look at Twilight's face.

Twilight's face with her lower lip covering her upper lip, and her eyes seeming to get bigger, rounder, sadder, all her features softening up before Rainbow's very eyes.

"Twi," Rainbow said. "Come on, Twi, please don't do that."

Twilight kept on doing it anyway, because she knew what worked.

"Okay, okay, fine," Rainbow said. "It's not fair the way that you do that."

"It works, doesn't it?" Twilight asked, a smile replacing the pout on her face.

"I know it works; that's why it isn't fair," Rainbow said, raising her voice just a bit. She sighed. "She called me a house faunus last night."

"Who did?" Blake demanded.

"Sabine Silverband of Team Sabre," Rainbow explained. "One of the two that Weiss is going up against today. That's why I'm rooting for Weiss and Flash. I mean, it's also because we're friends, but partly, I want to see Sabine and Reynard get their heads pounded into the floor, even if that is a little disloyal to Atlas."

"Is that… that's why you disappeared for a little bit," Twilight said. "And then you came back with Lady Belladonna?"

Rainbow unfolded her arms, letting them both fall down onto her knees. "Yeah," she said. "I needed to go away and think about it—"

"What's there to think about?" Twilight asked. "They were just … did you take it seriously?"

"No," Rainbow said quickly. "If I took it seriously, I wouldn't be so mad at them for having said it. I just really didn't like the fact that they said it. All I asked them to do was not take how they felt about this SDC stuff out on Weiss, and they threw that at me."

"They sound like a charming bunch," Sunset murmured. "Maybe they'd be better off with the White Fang."

"That's not fair," Rainbow said.

Sunset looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Seriously?"

"They called you—" Twilight started.

"I know what they called me," Rainbow said. "And I want them to get beaten down for it, don't get me wrong, but that doesn't make them evil or terrorists. It just makes them jackasses … angry jackasses, but the fact that they're jackasses doesn't mean that they don't have a right to be angry, if that makes sense."

"I feel like I should be the one saying that," Blake murmured.

"You can take the next one," Rainbow said.

Blake smiled softly.

"Is that … is that what it's going to be like for you?" Twilight asked. "Whatever you do for the faunus, you're going to get told that you're not enough of a faunus to … to be a faunus?"

"Perhaps," Blake admitted. "I know that my dad got called that a few times."

"And your mom," Rainbow said. "She told me that Sienna Khan called her one once, and she hit her across the face with a tray." She grinned. "You didn't tell me that your mom was such a badass."

"I never thought of my mom as being any kind of badass," Blake replied. "To me, she was just … Mom." She paused. "Do you think … do you think Team Sabre might try and take it out on Weiss? I mean, they didn't like you suggesting that it wasn't her fault."

"What are they going to do?" Sunset asked. "The tournament has rules."

"I know, I'm not suggesting that they'll try and injure her," Blake said, "but you can win with grace, or you can humiliate your opponents, and I worry that they'll be trying for the second option."

"They've got to win first," Sunset said.

"And that," Rainbow added. "That's what I hope won't happen."

XxXxX​

"Are you okay?" Flash asked, as they waited in the tunnel.

"Of course," Weiss replied at once. She brushed her fingertips lightly against the hilt of Myrtenaster. "Everything that I told you all yesterday remains true today." She ventured a small smile. "Except that I dare to hope that we won over some hearts and minds yesterday."

Flash smiled too. "I'm pretty sure we made a good impression."

"And today, we will make another," Weiss declared. She frowned ever so slightly. "I do wish that we knew more about our opponents; unfortunately, I've not encountered this Team Sabre until now. I don't suppose you know anything?"

Flash shook his head. "No, nothing. We probably should have asked Rainbow Dash, or you could have asked Blake."

"Would they have told us?" Weiss asked. "You saw how they were this morning; Rainbow Dash and Blake are both my friends, but when it comes to this tournament, they're on the side of Atlas — the Academy, not the kingdom. I doubt they'd tell us anything. I would say that we know that our opponents are from Atlas, and we do … but that doesn't really tell us very much, does it?"

Flash chuckled. "No," he said. "Not really. I guess it could mean, it hopefully means, that they won't give us a hard time over … you know."

"Mmm," Weiss murmured. "We can certainly hope so, but we can't be sure. Anyway, we should—"

"Have you heard from anyone?" Flash asked her. "From back home, I mean, congratulations on making it into the second round?"

Weiss paused for a second. "Well," she murmured. "My little brother, Whitley, did send me this text message once we were done with our match yesterday." She got out her scroll, grateful to have something to do with her hands while she waited, and opened it up; Whitley's message was near the top of the list, and she found it easily. She read it out, although it was so short that she could have given the gist of it by heart. "'Dear Weiss—'"

"Is he sending you a text or writing you a letter?" Flash asked.

Weiss let out a little laugh. "The formality of our house would make many a Mistralian of the Old Blood stare in amazement," she declared. She thought about the Mistralian aristocrat that she knew best — not that well, admittedly — and revised her remark, "Well, perhaps not them, but everyone short of that proud station would doubtless find us very odd. May I continue?"

"Of course," Flash said. "Sorry to interrupt."

"It's no trouble," Weiss assured him. She cleared her throat and began to read once again. "'Dear Weiss, I see that you managed to emerge victorious from that bit of barbarism, even if it did mean letting yourself get assaulted by some desert savage. I could never voluntarily subject myself to such indignities, and it amazes me that you can. I am as awed by the courage as I am dismayed by the folly of it all. Well done and best of luck in the next round brawl.'" She closed her scroll.

Flash stared at her. "That … that was … at least he wished you luck."

Weiss covered her mouth with one hand as she put her scroll away. "That was actually quite a supportive message."

"Really? What would an unsupportive message look like?"

"Sheer venom," Weiss said. "Possibly with a coating of strong sarcasm." She paused. "I don't expect Whitley to understand why I'm doing this — the tournament, or Beacon, or becoming a huntress; just the fact that he's watching is nice to know. Oh, and I heard from Klein as well?"

"That's … the butler, right?" Flash asked.

"Yes, that's right," Weiss replied. "He gave me a call last night."

"Nice," Flash said. "But … you didn't…" He didn't ask about her parents, although she could tell that he wanted to, or had been about to, or at least that he had noted the absence of any mention of either of her parents. But he did not actually mention it, and for that, she was grateful.

"And you?" Weiss asked. "Did your mother call or send you a message?"

"No," Flash said at once. "No, she wouldn't; she…"

"Doesn't approve," Weiss murmured.

"Yeah," Flash agreed. "That's about the size of it." There was a rather forced quality to his smile as he added, "Still, I'm sure that when I get back to Atlas, she'll have fun showing me off at all the parties, especially if we win this match."

Weiss would have very much liked to say that she didn't know what he was talking about; unfortunately, she really couldn't.

"Yes, well…" She reached out with one small, pale hand, enclosing it around some of his fingers. "Just remember that we do not fight for those who seek only to borrow the light of our prestige, but for ourselves. This isn't about your mother or my parents or the SDC; this is about us, huntsman and huntress, and all that we are and all that we can be. And all that we have done and will do. It's all for us, not for them."

Flash looked at her, and then he looked down at her hand, around his fingers. He moved his other hand towards her, as though he meant to take it, but then, before he actually did, he almost recoiled, pulling his hand away. "We should … probably get out there," he said.

Weiss let go of his fingers. "Yes," she said, "you're probably right."

She led the way, out of the shadows and into the light of the arena, emerging into view to a … rather more muted reception than she had, in all honesty, been hoping for. Nobody was singing songs about them — or Atlas, for that matter. There were some cheers, more than there had been yesterday, there were some boos as well, but overall, there was just not a great deal of noise.

There were not a great many people around to make the noise. That was not to say that the colosseum was empty — she was sure that the crowd assembled would have filled up many lesser venues — it was just that in the vast space of the Amity Arena Weiss could not help but notice — without even having to look around much — that there were a large number of empty spaces.

I bet there weren't this many empty seats for Pyrrha.

Apparently, I'm not considered much of a draw.


Weiss was not blind to the irony of the fact that, forced into singing by her father, she regularly filled up whole concert halls and stadiums full of people come to hear her do something that didn't even rise to the level of a hobby in terms of her enjoyment of or commitment to it, yet now, when she was following her passion and ambition both at the same time, nobody wanted to know.

Fewer people, anyway, or it seemed so, whatever the exact numbers.

The irony was not lost on her, but that didn't mean she had to like being greeted with the attendance equivalent of a shrug of the shoulders.

Is to be regarded with indifference better or worse than being hated? A question to be asked.

Nevertheless, in spite of the indifference of the crowd, Weiss and Flash made their way to the central hexagon, where they waited for their opponents to show themselves.

It was only once Weiss and Flash were both stood still and waiting that Weiss saw the two figures emerging from the opposite end of the stadium. They walked quickly across the white metal, and as they got closer, Weiss saw something that caused her eyes to widen and her mouth to flap open with a gasp of surprise.

Both of their opponents had painted the letters 'SDC' upon their faces, surrounded with a square border, all in a brownish red like old, congealed blood that looked unmistakably like the pictures of the brands found on the faunus rescued from the facilities uncovered by Blake and Rainbow Dash.

They … they really … is this allowed?

The crowd seemed as confused about that as Weiss was, because they didn't cheer for the Team SABR duo, nor did they boo them; instead, the overwhelming sound that Weiss heard was one of confusion, surprise, and uncertainty.

Or perhaps that was simply what Weiss wanted to hear because it was better than sympathy.

The girl, Sabine Silverband, smirked as her matte black tail swished eagerly back and forth behind her. She was wearing a white jacket — with a black collar — over a black dress, with a necklace of blue ice dust crystals around her neck. Strapped to her right wrist, she had what Weiss presumed to be her weapon: a grey, square, blocky contraption that looked as though it shot something; something flat, judging by the slit at the front.

"Is there a problem, Miss Schnee?" she asked, the smirk fixed on her face.

Weiss was reminded of the way that Rainbow Dash had greeted her when they first met, Miss Schnee this and Miss Schnee that. I should have known that deference would be thrown back in my face at some point.

Of course, the two Atlas students had put her in a position where she couldn't really complain about it without seeming petulant and thin-skinned. Was she supposed to stamp her foot and demand that they wipe those letters off their faces?

It has nothing to do with me, I have nothing to be ashamed of.

I wonder if everyone watching feels the same way.


Weiss drew Myrtenaster with a flourish, pointing it towards Sabine. "Not at all," she said. "The only problem is that the match hasn't started yet."

Sabine snorted. "We are here for all the faunus!" she declared as the view from the giant screens lingered on the letters she had painted on her face. "And you," she pointed at Weiss, "will get what you have coming to you."

Weiss did not respond. What would have been the point? The last thing she wanted to do was be drawn into an argument about her responsibility for the actions of elements of the Schnee Dust Company.

"Kick their asses, Weiss! And Flash!"

Weiss smiled slightly as the shout from Rainbow Dash reached her ears.

Not quite here for all the faunus, then.

"Ahem," Professor Port cleared his throat; even that sound echoed around the arena. "Let's get things underway, shall we?"

"Weiss Schnee and Flash Sentry of Beacon!" announced Doctor Oobleck as the icons for the different terrain types began to spin around the edges of the diagonal sides of the hexagon. "Sabine Silverband and Reynard Kerak of Atlas!"

Reynard wore his Atlesian armour white, with a red stripe running down his chest and stomach; he had a long but sturdy arming sword at his hip, which he drew, while on his left arm, he carried what looked like a cross; Weiss guessed that it would use hard light dust to generate a shield, although it could be used as a launcher for some other kind of dust, however ungainly it might be to wield it thus.

She thought she was right on her first guess, however.

With a succession of beeps, the rolling images came to a halt, selecting the four biomes for this battle: behind Weiss and Flash, the ice field and the savannah; behind Sabine and Reynard, the mountain and the shipwreck.

The floor around the central hexagon opened up, and the biomes arose: the white field of ice, the savannah with its long grass and solitary tree, the dashed wooden ship with its tall mast, the mountain rising above all else.

"Three!" Professor Port cried.

"Two!" shouted Doctor Oobleck.

Weiss stepped into her preferred starting stance, Myrtenaster drawn back past her head, the blade at eye level with her face.

Flash pulled Rho Aias off his back and into one hand, holding Caliburn in spear mode for an overarm descending thrust.

"One!" Professor Port bellowed. "Begin!"

Sabine raised her arm — with the square, heavy gauntlet attached — towards Weiss and immediately fired at Weiss a disc, a thin metal disc about the size of a buckler, with a small, fine circle of ice dust set in the centre of it. The disc blasted out of her gauntlet, spinning as it flew for Weiss' head.

Flash moved in a flash, despite his bulky-seeming armour, throwing himself between Weiss and Sabine, planting his feet like a tree planting its roots in the soil, raising Rho Aias to shield his own face. The disc slammed into Flash's shield and bounced off, spinning away to some distant corner of the battlefield, while Flash himself was unmoved, the force of the blow absorbed by his semblance.

Sabine scowled, and more discs fired out of her gauntlet, leaping from the narrow slit to razor through the air towards the two members of Team WWSR. Sabine loosed disc after disc, and disc after disc slammed into Flash and his Rho Aias, rebounding off the shield, flying away somewhere, while Flash stolidly endured the strikes and, thanks to his semblance, wasn't moved by them at all; he stood like a stone wall, taking everything that Sabine could dish out without flinching.

But his aura was dropping under a combination of Sabine's hits and his own semblance use. He couldn't keep this up forever.

Fortunately, he doesn't have to.

Weiss cycled the cylinder built into Myrtenaster's hilt, cycling through red fire dust, yellow lightning dust, blue ice dust, until she came to the pale blue hard light dust that she was looking for.

"Just a little longer, Flash," she told him as she conjured up an array of white glyphs, charged with hard light dust, half a dozen of them forming a halo around her head.

You're not the only one who can shoot.

Laser beams erupted out of Weiss' glyphs like bullets from a rotary cannon, glyphs firing in sequence one after the other, from the left and working their way to the right before starting again. The bolts of hard light soared over and around Flash's head towards Sabine.

It was the turn of Reynard to put himself between his team leader and the attacks of their opponent. He planted his cross upon the arena surface, and immediately, it began to glow with a pale blue light.

Hard light. I was right.

The cross grew larger, beams of hard light extending upwards and outwards, and then more hard light filling in the space between the arms of the cross, a honeycomb-pattern barrier of hard light that absorbed Weiss' laser fire without breaking, without even seeming to fluctuate under the fire.

Weiss kept up her bombardment, for now, if only for something to do while she thought — and in part for the hope that the shield might prove weak and she could batter through it if she could just keep up the fire for long enough. That was a strategy, not least because she could fire over Flash, while Sabine couldn't fire over Reynard's hard light barrier, so of the two of them, she was the one who could continue firing while the SABR duo had rendered themselves immobile and incapable of responding.

However, while Weiss might have taken the chance that a hard light pavise like this one made in Mistral or Vacuo might crumble under pressure and shoddy workmanship, she was a little more wary of doing so when faced with Atlas tech.

There was a good chance that she would run out of hard light dust for her lasers before Reynard's shield gave way, in which case, she and Flash would be worse off than their enemies.

But there were other ways, and her point that the enemy had immobilised themselves held true.

"Flash," she said, "I need you to keep Reynard pinned down with a frontal assault, while I—"

"Do you really think that's all I've got, Miss Schnee?" Sabine yelled, her voice cracking.

At first, it was very faint, so faint that Weiss took a moment to notice it: the glow of ice dust crystals, each one glimmering blue, sparkling as the metal discs in which they were set rose into the air from all the different parts of the battlefield on which they had landed.

"What an extraordinary display!" Doctor Oobleck declared from the commentators' box. "Sabine Silverband's semblance allows her to manipulate ice, so by placing a small amount of ice dust within each of her discs, she can control them as if by telekinesis!"

Weiss knew, because she had overheard the grumbling about it, that a lot of students participating in the Vytal Tournament didn't especially like having the details of their semblances revealed to the audience at home — and to their competitors in the arena. Unfortunately for Weiss, knowing how Sabine was doing it — and yes, it was rather clever of her — didn't really help Weiss to do anything about it.

It did not, for example, help her to stop the metal discs that were closing in on her and Flash, emerging from out of the tall grass and the ice field, rising up out of the water, descending from the mountaintop. They closed in like a swarm of flies come to eat their fill.

"Stay where you are, Flash," Weiss said as she skipped three steps towards him and, with both hands, rammed Myrtenaster, point first, down into the grey metallic surface of the central hexagon. She grunted as she conjured up glyph after glyph, black glyphs, the barrier glyphs, she threw them up one another after all around the two of them, conjuring them in haste as Sabine's discs began to rain down towards the pair of them.

The discs flew down, and Weiss threw her barrier glyphs up, trying to form a dome of glyphs that would completely encompass the both of them before the discs — there were twelve of them, maybe more, maybe as many as fifteen; it was hard to accurately count — struck home. The glyphs appeared in mid-air, forming lines stretching up from the ground, stitching patterns together, and where they appeared, Sabine's discs bounced off them a second time, and even a third.

But there were so many glyphs that Weiss had to conjure, and before she had conjured enough, before she had completed her dome of protection, three of the metal discs had slipped through the net and into her defences.

And they were all aimed at Weiss.

Flash, no longer having to worry about a frontal assault, turned away and batted one aside with a thrust from Caliburn, but the other two were too quick, and Sabine's control over them too dexterous.

Weiss drew her sword from out of the ground — now that the glyphs were conjured, keeping them so did not require all her attention — and the rapier blade lashed out, a silver light cutting through the air, to strike first one disc and then the other, knocking them away.

As more discs slammed into her glyphs from the outside, these three struck from the inside, and from either side, the glyphs held firm.

That was mostly to the good, but not so good, considering it meant that they were essentially trapped with these three discs of Sabine's that had managed to get in.

They flew at Weiss again, from all directions this time. Again, Flash caught one of them, but two more came from other directions, and Weiss was forced to pirouette on her toes, her ponytail whirling around her, to catch them both with Myrtenaster.

Obviously, this situation couldn't endure forever, but the moment that Weiss let the glyphs go, then more of these discs would descend upon them. She needed a plan, and she needed to fend off these three discs while she planned, whirling in place, conjuring more glyphs where she could, trying to keep an eye on all three discs at once as they darted this way and that in search of an opening.

Weiss and Flash stood back to back, so that Weiss did not have to look everywhere to protect herself; his gilded cuirass felt hard against her back, the crest of his helmet was scratchy against the back of Weiss' head, but there was something reassuring about the feeling as well.

It was reassuring that he was there, here with her.

It was reassuring to hear the solid clanging sounds as Sabine's discs rebounded off his shield; it was, she had to admit, a much more reassuring sound than the noise made as she deflected them with Myrtenaster.

Come on, Weiss, what's the plan? You can't just stand here until your aura runs out.

I'm still the fastest person on this battlefield, and the most nimble and manoeuvrable as well. So long as I can stay ahead of her discs … or stop them.


A smile crossed Weiss' face. Yes. Yes, that might work.

She cycled the cylinder in Myrtenaster to red fire dust.

"I take it that you have a plan," Flash said.

"What makes you say that?" asked Weiss as she batted aside a disc with a flick of Myrtenaster.

"Because you wouldn't be changing dust if you didn't," Flash replied.

Weiss smiled. "Then yes," she said, striking out with her rapier to knock another disc away before it could hit her. "I have a plan. When I drop my glyphs," — she paused, expecting Flash to protest; he didn't, for which she found herself rather grateful — "I want you to go forward, keep Reynard busy. I'm going to work around and behind his barrier and deal with Sabine."

"Fair enough," Flash said. "What about all these discs?"

Weiss took a step forward, the better to assume a fencing stance, one foot forward, blade at the ready. "I've got a plan for that, too," she said, and dropped all of her black glyphs.

Every disc that Sabine had fired descended on Weiss at once, as though Sabine wanted to crush Weiss underneath her shield-like discs.

"Go, Flash!" Weiss yelled as she spun in place, and as she spun, she let a tongue of fire rip out of Myrtenaster which whirled around Weiss like a dancer's ribbon.

Because Sabine couldn't control the metal of the discs — she wasn't using telekinesis or ferrokinesis — she was controlling the ice dust, and the ice dust only, which meant if that dust was gone, then the discs, once fired, were useless.

Thank you, Doctor Oobleck.

Weiss' tongue of fire engulfed the three discs that had been caught on the wrong side of Weiss' glyphs, the three that were closest and had troubled her the most; the fire swept over them, and though it wasn't hot enough to melt the metal, it did make the embedded dust crystals explode, falling in tiny shards down to the floor — and the metal discs with them. Sabine couldn't move them anymore.

Weiss allowed the smile to remain on her face as she danced in place, turning this way and that, shooting fire out of Myrtenaster at each disc as it shot towards her, sometimes conjuring a glyph here or there to cover herself, but mostly relying on the flames, on the flames that burned the ice dust to nothing and sent disc after disc falling with a clatter to the ground.

Weiss was not quite fast enough to catch all of the discs; one of them slipped past her flames to slam into the side of her head, knocking her off her feet and onto the ground. But Weiss still had Myrtenaster in her hand, and as the disc swung around for another pass, she raised the blade, a fireball leaping from it to catch the disc in mid-air, consuming the little ice dust wafer embedded within.

Weiss didn't wait for the disc to fall. She was already on her feet, running across the central hexagon towards the savannah biome.

Soon, after only a few pounding steps, she ceased to run, conjuring instead a white glyph a couple of inches off the ground, a glyph onto which she leapt as it turned lazily in the air, a glyph which took her weight as solidly as the floor beneath. A glyph from which she conjured a whole line of glyphs, a column of them running across the central hexagon and then rising above the tall grass of the savannah, so that as the glyphs carried Weiss along, she seemed to run atop the surface of the grass with such light step that she did not disturb it.

"Look, grandfather, look at me fly!"

Weiss laughed a little to remember that now, of all times: the joy that she had taken in her semblance then, the way the old man had smiled from his chair as though she had accomplished the most wonderful thing, and not the very least that should be expected of a Schnee.

Look, grandfather, I will make you proud yet.

Weiss skated rapidly atop her glyphs, over the savannah grass and towards the shipwreck. A mockup of an old wooden sailing ship, its hull of wooden planks holed and tattered but its mast still rising proud and tall above the broken deck, lay half-submerged in an artificial sea, with a narrow border of sandy beach where the biome joined to the mountain, the savannah, and to the central hexagon.

Weiss conjured up more glyphs out over the surface of the water, gliding over the artificial ocean around the edge of Reynard's hard light barrier.

She could see that Flash had his shield pressed up against that barrier, discharging the lightning dust in his shield in an effort to break through, but whether he broke through or not, Reynard could not turn away without leaving himself exposed and vulnerable.

Sabine was another matter. She could see what Weiss was doing, as plainly as Weiss could see Flash attempting to batter through Reynard's barrier, and because she could see, Sabine rushed towards Weiss and the shipwreck biome. She was slower than Weiss, without any glyphs to glide over, but as she ran, she raised her arm and fired more discs from her gauntlet.

Weiss retreated, white glyphs carrying her backwards towards the edge of the battlefield, while she raised her free hand and Myrtenaster; with her hand, she conjured up a pair of black glyphs to shield herself; with Myrtenaster, she loosed fireballs towards the discs that flew towards her.

The fireballs struck home; the discs passed through the flames, borne onwards by their momentum, but the ice dust within was gone.

The spinning discs slammed into Weiss' black glyphs, and there, they remained, suspended, spinning without moving.

"Would you like to see all I've got?" Weiss muttered, as she closed her hand into a fist. The black glyphs that held Sabine's discs turned a brilliant blue as the discs rebounded backwards as though they had run into rubber, flying backwards towards Sabine.

None of them struck her; Sabine dived out of the way, rolling along the ground, but as she dived, she had to stop shooting any more discs in Weiss' direction. Weiss passed over the water on a line of glyphs and reached the central hexagon again.

Sabine rolled to her feet, ripping one of the ice dust crystals from around her neck off its string and throwing it towards Weiss. It landed just short of her, before her as she glided forwards, the dust crystal erupting into a wall of ice to block her way. Weiss waved Myrtenaster in front of her like a wand, and a wave of fire swept out before her, burning through the ice — at the cost of the last of the fire dust stored in Myrtenaster. Weiss switched to yellow lightning dust as she burst through Sabine's collapsing barrier and raced towards her.

Sabine scowled, wiping one hand down her face, smearing the SDC letter she had painted on her skin, smearing her face with red lines like streaks of blood, before she tore off two more ice crystals from around her neck. She flung one ice crystal down to the ground at her feet, forming a round patch of ice onto which she leapt, while the other transformed in her hand into an icy sword, jagged, with spikes and shards of ice jutting out from all over the blade like thorns on rose.

Sabine swept the sword backwards for a slashing stroke as her patch of ice moved forwards, skidding across the arena surface towards Weiss.

Weiss glided sideways a step upon her white glyphs — she had no desire to physically collide with her opponent — but kept on skating across the grey surface towards Sabine. They met, close to the centre of the battlefield, Weiss' Myrtenaster clashing with Sabine's icy sword once, twice, as the two of them glided past one another like old-fashioned jousting knights.

And just like knights in the joust of old, they turned to face each other once again.

Weiss contemplated raising Myrtenaster in a salute to her opponent, but she doubted that Sabine would have appreciated the gesture, at least not coming from Weiss Schnee.

Instead, she drove hard at Sabine Silverband, using her glyphs to propel herself faster. The colosseum, the crowd, the whole world blurred around her as she flew faster than an arrow aimed straight at her enemy. Sabine fell back, parrying desperately. Her sword of ice clashed against Myrtenaster with subtle crunching, tingling sounds. Sabine's expression, teeth bared, brows turned outward, eyes wide, was one of mingled frustration and concern.

Did you expect me to be some useless pampered princess? Weiss thought, as she thrust at Sabine again and again, Myrtenaster's point seeking out the weaknesses in her guard.

"Weiss!" Flash shouted. "Behind you!"

Weiss retreated, gliding backwards away from Sabine even as she turned to see all the stalagmites from the ice biome, wrenched out of the ground by Sabine's semblance, flew like spears towards her.

Weiss held out her hand, conjuring a black glyph as tall as she was to cover her back against Sabine, while before her, she traced spindly silvery patterns in the air with Myrtenaster, shattering the icy spears one after another. Shards of broken ice fell at her feet.

Out of the corner of her eye, Weiss saw Sabine float on her icy platform around Weiss' glyph.

Weiss didn't bother to turn around; rather, she skated forwards, then, with a deft switch from white glyphs to black beneath her feet, launched herself up into the air, staying ahead of the discs that Sabine fired at her, all of them flying through the empty air where she had been but was not now. They would turn on her, no doubt, moved by Sabine's semblance, but they would still have to catch her first. Another white glyph, conjured in the air, provided a platform to stand on for half a second or less before Weiss moved on, leaping to another glyph that hung at an upside down angle.

Weiss hung, ponytail drooping down towards the ground, and began to conjure up a series of black glyphs all around Sabine, a prison of dark swirling shapes and patterns that hemmed her in and confined her.

Sabine turned this way and that, slashing at the glyphs with her icy sword to no avail.

"Now you're putting me in a cage?!" she shouted.

Weiss ignored her ranting and dove down, propelled by her glyph. Speed was her ally and her hope, and as Sabine's discs pursued her, Weiss dove like a seagull upon the chips of the hapless tourist — or perhaps something a little more majestic and less verminous — down on Sabine.

The black glyphs which held Sabine and would have shielded her from Weiss' onslaught dissipated a second before Weiss flew past Sabine, lashing out with Myrtenaster to knock one of her legs out from under her and send her falling to one knee upon her ice platform, but otherwise, she was untouched as Weiss skated around behind her — placing Sabine between Weiss and all of Sabine's discs which were now flying straight at her.

Sabine had no time to react before her own weapons slammed into her in such a mass that Weiss thought they were going to bury her for a second, but which did knock her off her platform, knock the sword of ice from her grasp, and knock her flying backwards, head snapped around, arms and legs flailing.

And as she flew, Weiss jammed Myrtenaster, point first, into Sabine's back, and discharged her lightning dust.

Lighting rippled down the slender blade and up and down Sabine's body, snapping, biting, tearing at her aura as Sabine contorted in mid-air, devouring her shield until it dropped into the red.

A klaxon blared across the battlefield.

"Sabine Silverband has been eliminated by aura depletion!" Doctor Oobleck yelled.

Sabine flopped down onto her back on the ground, glaring up at Weiss without a word.

Weiss took two steps back, her attention turning to Reynard. Flash had brought down his hard light barrier, and now, the metal cross stood abandoned where he had planted it on the ground. Reynard and Flash were clashing, Reynard's sword against Caliburn in sword mode and Rho Aias.

Reynard's aura was lower than Flash's, and Weiss could see that Flash was methodically working his way to victory, taking the blows upon his shield and creating openings for his own blade; there was no doubt in her mind that, if left alone, he would eventually triumph.

But that didn't mean she couldn't help him along.

Weiss cycled back to hard light dust and once more conjured a set of pale blue glyphs, eight in total, all around her.

She fired a single volley, eight light blue laser bolts flying from her glyphs to strike Reynard, throw him to the floor and take his aura down into the red.

The klaxon sounded once again.

"Reynard Kerak has been eliminated!" Professor Port declared. "The duo of Weiss Schnee and Flash Sentry wins the match!"

There was a moment of silence in the arena, then, beginning quietly, like the first stirrings of distant thunder, then growing louder and louder like a tempest all around them, the booing began.

Jeers fell down like rain. Weiss turned in place, looking this way and that, as if, by turning, she could see the friendly voice she could not hear. She could see Rainbow Dash with her distinctive hair, but if she was cheering, the sound of it was drowned out by the sound of the crowd's disdain that rained down so thick, despite the relative paucity of the crowd, that it threatened to fill the arena and sweep both Weiss and Flash away.

I suppose that answers that question: I preferred it when they were indifferent.

And to think I once thought that I might win the crowd over.


As Sabine got to her feet, she laughed darkly, but not bitterly as Weiss might have expected, unless it was with bitter satisfaction. "Congratulations on your victory, Miss Schnee," she said, and the strong sarcasm coating her words was made even stronger by the mocking curtsy that she offered Weiss. "May you have joy of it."

XxXxX​

"Two victories," Twilight said. "Two victories, and still, they boo her! That last win was nearly flawless."

"It doesn't matter," Rainbow said, shaking her head from side to side. "As much as we might wish it otherwise, the wins don't matter. In fact, the wins — especially this win — kind of make it worse. The narrative has been set."

"The … narrative?" Blake repeated. "This isn't a story; this is Weiss' life."

"This is the Vytal Tournament, and the fact that it's really happening doesn't mean that we don't tell stories about it," Rainbow replied. "Or else, why do people root for underdogs?" She paused, and then continued on more quietly. "Who is the hero, who is the villain, who is the underdog?"

"And so, Weiss, she's the villain?" Sunset asked. "I get what you're talking about in the abstract — our lives are made of stories after all — but … Weiss?"

"Unfortunately … I can see why," Blake said softly. "It isn't right, and Weiss doesn't deserve it, but I can see why."

"Right," Rainbow muttered. "She's become the villain of this whole tournament, and there's nothing we can do about it."
 
Chapter 51 - Hope You Didn't Spend Money
Hope You Didn't Spend Money


Lieutenant Martinez answered her scroll, because it was from her husband, so of course she was going to answer.

"Hey, Mike, is everything okay back there?"

"Yeah, everything's fine, darlin', don't worry about us," Mike replied in a soft, genial tone. "Any chance that you can make it home soon?"

Martinez made a kind of gargling noise with her throat. "I … I dunno, honey."

"That bad, huh?"

"I got no leads, no suspects—"

"Seems like there isn't much more than you can do up there," Mike observed.

That … was not entirely incorrect, unfortunately; for sure, it was more true than Martinez liked, but at the same time, it wasn't quite true enough to justify her going home yet, even if this was supposed to be her day off.

"Yeah," she said, "but I still have to finish interviewing some more witnesses, and then I have to go back to the office and write it all up—"

"Are you going to make it home for dinner?"

"Yes, yes, I will definitely make it home for dinner," Martinez promised. "They don't get to drag me in on my vacation — a vacation they told me to take — and have me stay late doing paperwork. I will be home for dinner, you can bet on it."

"I could probably get good odds on that."

"Ah-ha, ah-ha, you should resign from the Coast Guard and do stand up comedy, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Probably you did, the last time I made a joke like that," Mike replied easily.

Martinez snorted. Considering that most husbands would have left her by now for working too long, or too much, or leaving him going stag at work socials because she had to go kick down a door somewhere … if all that he did was make the occasional crack about it, then she was a very lucky woman indeed.

"I'll be back," she repeated. "What is it?"

"Tonight, Madame," Mike said, his voice slipping into an appropriately culinary accent, "I will be cooking chicken arrabiata with chorizo and bacon, on a bed of spinach and half-roast potatoes."

"Oh, my god, I'm drooling already," Martinez said.

"Best wipe your mouth before interviewing your next witness," Mike suggested. "You're not letting those kids give you any trouble, are you?"

"I'm trying not to," Martinez said. "I just had some Mistralian kid half my age correct me on the pronunciation of her name like I was some knuckle-dragging moron. I don't know how they haven't had a revolution over there."

"I think they did, didn't they?"

"Well, they didn't do a very thorough job of it," Martinez said sharply.

"You want to talk about it?"

"Yes, but not over the scroll," Martinez said. "I'll tell you all about it tonight, over a couple of glasses of whisky. And whatever you're drinking."

Mike laughed. "I'll have them waiting for you when you get home too," he promised. "Listen, the reason that I actually called you is that I have two little boys here tugging on my trouser leg who have a question to ask you."

Martinez smiled, although with the call on voice only, neither Mike nor the kids could see it. "Is that right? You'd better put them on, then, before they tear your pants."

"You got that right," Mike said. "Hey, kids, it's your mom."

"Hey sweeties!" Martinez said into the scroll as she held it up to her face. "What's up?"

It was Tyler who spoke, "Mom, why are they booing the huntsmen you like?"

Martinez frowned. "What do you mean, Ty?"

"We just watched Weiss Schnee and Flash Sentry," Stuart explained. "You like them, right?"

"Yeah, that's right," Martinez said. "I worked with them a little while ago."

"They won," Tyler told her. "But everybody's booing them."

Martinez rolled her eyes. "Well, you see, the thing is," she rambled a little bit, "Weiss' dad is a really famous guy. You know, every time Mom or Dad fills up the car, we have to pay Weiss' father."

"Really?" Stuart asked.

"Yeah, really," Martinez told them. "Only now, a lot of people are mad at Weiss' dad because of something…" She trailed off, searching for a way to explain it.

"Because of something he did?" Tyler asked.

"Not exactly, honey; it's more that some people who worked for him did some very bad things, and so, people are mad at Weiss' dad because he's the boss, and he's supposed to know everything that goes on." And that, Martinez thought, was fair enough; if there had turned out to be a dirty cop in her unit, then she would expect to take the blame for not realising that they were bent; in just the same way, if she lost someone, then she'd rightly be brought to book for that as well. Having rank and position didn't just mean a pay increase and everybody calling you 'lieutenant'; it meant taking responsibility when things got screwed up. "And because he's her dad, they're mad at Weiss too."

"But she didn't do anything, right?" Stuart asked.

"No," Martinez said, "no she didn't."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the scroll.

"People are jerks," said Stuart.

Martinez chuckled. "Unfortunately, you're right," she said. "More often than I would like you to be."

XxXxX​

Obviously, most of Team SAPR weren't waiting for them in the tunnel when they walked off the battlefield — it would have been astonishing if they had been, considering that Weiss had seen them getting off the same airship that her team had gotten on — but Sunset was there, and Rainbow and Blake, and Twilight Sparkle as well, along with Cardin and Russel.

They were all waiting for her and Flash as they left the arena and all its jeering and booing behind, disappearing from the sight of the spectators who had taken such a disliking to them.

They seemed to be struggling to smile, for reasons that didn't take a genius to understand.

"I'm quite alright," she said. "It doesn't bother me."

"Really?" Rainbow asked, sounding surprised. "Not at all?"

"Not at all," Weiss lied, although she hoped it was not too much of a lie, more of an exaggeration really.

She very much hoped so, at least.

Blake's eyes narrowed, but for the moment, at least, she said nothing.

Rainbow Dash, on the other hand, clasped her hands together and plastered a rather jovial smile across her face which strained to reach her eyes and almost managed it. "Okay then!" she declared. "In that case: congratulations; that was nearly flawless!"

Weiss' eyebrows rose. "Only nearly flawless?"

"Well, you did take a couple of hits," Rainbow pointed out. "And although it was technically a sweep by you, the fact that it took one hit for you to take out Reynard means that it doesn't feel like you swept, if that makes any sense."

"You mean the fact that I didn't brawl with each member of the opposition in turn like Arslan Altan yesterday means that it doesn't feel as though I've matched her accomplishment."

"Yes, that's it," Rainbow said, a little apologetically.

"That's fine; it doesn't feel like I've matched her accomplishment either," Weiss said. Not least because I only had two opponents, not four. "Especially since Flash did a lot more than it seemed like the rest of Team Auburn did for Mistral's Golden Lion."

"You're flattering me, Weiss," Flash said. "I didn't do much of anything."

"You kept your opponent pinned down so that Weiss could face off against Sabine one on one," Sunset pointed out. "You broke through his shield, and you were winning your fight against him—"

"Before Weiss decided to killsteal," Russel cut in. "That showed a very selfish and unpleasant side to you."

He grinned to show that he didn't mean it maliciously.

"Well, it wasn't…" Weiss trailed off, before turning back to Flash with an apologetic smile. "No hard feelings, I hope?"

"For what?" Flash asked. "We won the fight; isn't that what matters?"

"Yes, we did," Weiss replied. "And Sunset — and Russel — are quite right, by the way; you played your part … invaluably. If it doesn't feel like I took on the entire enemy force and defeated it myself, it's because I didn't; this was a team effort, even if the statistics don't reflect it." She paused and could not resist adding, "And besides, I don't think that the crowd would care whether it felt like I swept all before me or not."

"So it does bother you," Blake observed.

"Certainly not," Weiss declared, putting one hand upon her hip, and tilting her chin so as to stick her nose upwards into the air. "What care have I for the opinion of the fickle multitude, be it so good or bad?"

She could see out of the corner of her eye that nobody looked particularly convinced by that. In fact, they were all, with the very kind exception of Flash Sentry, looking at her with various degrees of scepticism upon their faces.

Sunset exhaled loudly out of her mouth. "You are correct, of course, in theory," she said. "We all know it. And yet, we crave their approval nonetheless."

"Not I," Weiss insisted.

Sunset folded her arms. "Is that so?"

"Well … not as much as I might," Weiss muttered. She lowered her chin a little. "I must admit it is a little annoying. I am not my father, and even my father wasn't guilty of anything! To have them … are they allowed to do that? Is there no rule against it?"

"No, I'm afraid there isn't," Twilight murmured apologetically. "It isn't even the first time that the Vytal Festival has been used as the site or expression of political protest; during the very first tournament after the Great War, before the Amity Colosseum was even built, a group of faunus stormed the arena itself, interrupting the one-on-one rounds to protest the deportations to Menagerie."

"And so they can…" Weiss stopped short of saying 'and so they can imply that I had something to do with what went on at those facilities' for fear that Blake and Rainbow Dash — especially Blake — might feel her petty and self-centred if she appeared to care about her own reputation in that matter than the real victims in all of this.

"I see," she murmured. "I can't help but feel that it would suit the stated aims of this tournament better if politics were kept out of it, but … if it is legal, then it's legal. And I did win the match, so I suppose I can't complain about their behaviour too much. Even so … I suppose I had hoped that I might restore … I had hoped that people might be willing to look at me as myself, as Weiss Schnee, not as a mere limb of my father, to give me a chance and not to just see a chance to vent their frustrations with the SDC." She took a deep breath. "I will go as far as I can, I will win as many battles as I can, and the dislike of the crowd will not dissuade me from that; but a victory that was accompanied by affection would have been sweeter, I admit."

"Do you think…?" Rainbow glanced at Blake. "Maybe if we told everyone that Weiss was the one who helped us find out where that SDC facility was, they'd lay off? I mean, without your help, we never would have found Leaf; you're arguably more of a hero in all of this than we are!"

"That's very kind of you to offer, but no, thank you," Weiss said softly. "While it might, possibly, change the opinions of the people … I doubt it would please my father very much."

"So he's one of those," Cardin muttered.

"Yes," Weiss murmured. "Without knowing exactly what you mean by that, I think he might well be, as you say, one of those. And so I would rather keep my name out of it."

Twilight frowned. "And so… you're more afraid of your father than of the crowd?"

"The crowd can only jeer at me in the arena," Weiss said. "My father… well, let's just say…" actually, she decided not to say, and simply trailed off. "It's not important."

Rainbow frowned. "And so there's nothing that we can do to change the fact that…" She gestured at the tunnel entrance, and to the arena and the stands beyond. "That."

Cardin frowned. "I … I might have a way."

Blake glanced at him. "What is it?"

Cardin didn't look at her, although thankfully, his reticence appeared to be driven more by embarrassment than by any sense of superiority; his head was too bowed for him to seem superior.

"I … I don't know if it will work," he said. "And she might just tell me to get lost — and I'm not sure that I'd be able to blame her if she did, and even if she doesn't, then—"

"Cardin, you're not selling this very well," Flash pointed out.

Cardin barked with laughter. "No, I'm really not, am I?" he asked. "Maybe that's because what I really want is to be told that I don't have to go through with it, or that I shouldn't go through with it, or … anything, really, other than that I have a good idea and that I should totally do that. Because I don't really want to."

"Then why would you?" Weiss asked.

Cardin shrugged his broad shoulders. "Because … because we are a team, after all, and you've been a pretty good leader lately, since … and it isn't fair that people think of you as the bad guy. I mean, you didn't even do anything; it's all just about your father. It doesn't seem right. And so … I'd like to help, and this is all that I can think of that might help, and so even though I don't really want to do this, I will try if … if you'd like."

"Before we ask Cardin to do something that he really, really, doesn't want to," Blake said, "perhaps my mother could help? She could … make a statement—"

"Saying what?" Weiss asked. "Please don't be mean to me?"

Blake cleared her throat. "When you put it like that…" she muttered.

"I don't know," Rainbow murmured. "I mean … aside from the fact that some people would probably just call your mom a house faunus."

She grumbled something under her breath, giving Weiss a moment to wonder what a house faunus was supposed to be. A faunus with a house? A faunus in a house? And why was it supposed to be a bad thing? It seemed like a perfect decent and respectable for a faunus; didn't everyone want to have a house of their own, to live in and to pass on to their children? Would anyone use 'house human' as an insult? No, so then why 'house faunus,' and why would it matter if someone called Lady Belladonna that?

Weiss wouldn't have shown her ignorance by asking for an explanation in any case, but Rainbow went on, which meant that she had no opportunity to do so in any case. "And even if they didn't, and even if Lady Belladonna could say something that would help, and I'm not sure what that would be … I'm not sure if it would be a good idea for your mother to announce the fact that she's here in Vale. With the way things are … I'm afraid that she might be making herself a target." She looked at Weiss. "I mean, no offence, Weiss, but—"

"I understand," Weiss said, smiling slightly to show that she understood, even agreed. "My getting on the wrong side of the crowd in the Amity Colosseum is no reason for Blake's mother to put herself in harm's way. I'm not worth it. Or at least, my reputation is not." She paused for a moment. "Cardin, you had a suggestion."

"I'm not sure now," Cardin muttered. "I was going to say that maybe … maybe I could try and … maybe if Skystar would listen to me for a few minutes and didn't just run away or scream or slap me, I could, maybe, ask her to … but it's like Rainbow Dash said, what would she say? What's anyone going to say?"

"She could appeal to the values of the Vytal Festival?" Twilight suggested. "I mean, she is the Amity Princess, after all."

"How much do people really care about the values of the Vytal Festival, as opposed to paying them lip service?" Sunset asked.

"That's a cynical question," Twilight muttered.

"That doesn't make me wrong," Sunset replied. "The crowd on the stands singing that Mistralian song about thirty years of hurt doesn't care about cooperation between kingdoms; they just want a trophy to put in their otherwise barren and cobweb-infested cabinet. Anyway, Cardin's right, I'm not sure what Skystar could say to calm the waters." She looked at Cardin. "Although it was…" She thrust her hands into her pockets. "It was very brave of you, to even offer to do it."

"Or stupid," Cardin muttered. His jaw clenched. "If there is any point in talking to her about it, maybe you should be the one to do it; she seems to still like you."

"Mmm, well," Sunset muttered.

"Is there any point in anyone talking to her about it?" Russel asked.

"I…" Weiss trailed off. "I doubt it. I appreciate your efforts to find something that will alleviate my discomfort, but I don't think that having an authority figure stand up and tell everyone to be nice to me is the way forward." She fell silent for a moment or more. "I'm not sure that there is a way forward, except to continue as I have done and fight as hard as I can and hope that even if I cannot impress the crowd, there will at least be some of those against whom I fight who will be impressed with my efforts."

"And … the rest?" Blake asked. "The restoration of the Schnee name, the—"

Weiss laughed. "It might be a little soon after the scandal to take that on, and in the wake of what came out, that was always going to be harder than even I expected. But I'm still young, and the SDC isn't going anywhere. I have time to work on that and, hopefully, for some of the anger at the Schnee Dust Company to fade. For now, if a record of victories, however unwelcome to the public, is all that I can achieve…" She smiled. "Then there's nothing too bad in settling for that, is there?"

"The next match, between Jessica Tubal and Lance Gobham of Beacon and Arslan Altan and Bolin Hori of Haven, will commence in ten minutes!" Professor Port announced.

XxXxX​

Arslan won her match, kicking off Haven's day with a victory — or Mistral's day with a second victory, judging by the way that all of the Haven students had reacted to Pyrrha and Sunset's triumph over Trixie and Starlight — as well as putting an end to Beacon's winning streak. According to Pyrrha, who had watched the match, it was not of Arslan Altan's best showings, if only because the pair from Team JGLR were not the toughest opponents that she'd ever faced. Still, a victory was a victory, for Arslan and for Haven; it raised the spirits of the Haven students yet higher.

That was followed by Neon Katt — and her partner Flynt Coal — regaining some glory for Atlas after two consecutive defeats, by winning the first match of the day for the northern academy. That turned out to be the beginning of a bad streak for Shade, whose second team to enter the arena was also defeated — by Sun and Neptune, in a second victory for Haven, albeit one that was not, unfortunately, as celebrated by the rest of the student body. No doubt, the love of the crowd was ample compensation for the ambivalent attitude of their fellow huntsmen.

"Does it bother you at all the way that they've taken Sun to their hearts?" Rainbow asked Blake, as the two of them sat in the stands watching Sun and Neptune do a dance that Twilight would have been ashamed of in the middle of the arena, waving their arms in the air and thrusting their chests at one another like … Rainbow wanted to say it was like mating baboons, but she wasn't actually sure that was right. It might be gorillas. Or she might be a hundred percent wrong about it being anything like any apes or monkeys at all. She'd have to ask Fluttershy about it.

"Hey, Fluttershy, what animal is it that thrusts its chest out towards someone else when it wants to mate."

"Um, I think that might be humans, actually."


"Bother me? No," Blake said. "Why should it bother me, isn't that the point? Didn't we just talk to Weiss about how unfortunate it is that people aren't taking her to their hearts?"

"Yeah, but it's the specific way in which they're taking Sun to their hearts that I'm talking about," Rainbow said. She pointed across the arena. "Look, there, there's a girl with a life-sized picture of Sun's abs."

Blake leaned forward. "Really? You have better eyesight than me."

"In the daylight, maybe," Rainbow said. "Trust me, it's there."

"And during the first match, there were boys and girls with their Pyrrha pictures blown up to be as big as their own heads," Blake pointed. "And Sunset pictures, come to that."

"Yeah, and I guarantee you that Jaune doesn't like it," Rainbow said. "He won't say anything about it because he doesn't want to seem like That Guy, but I guarantee, I absolutely guarantee, that he isn't happy that people see his girlfriend that way."

"I'm not sure that Pyrrha likes it very much either," Blake murmured.

"Quit changing the subject," Rainbow insisted. "Does it really not bother you?"

"No," Blake said simply.

Rainbow's eyebrows rose. "No? Not at all?"

"Not at all," Blake repeated. After taking a second, she went on, "And I think you're wrong about Jaune too, by the way. He's not as insecure as you're making him out to be."

"Who said anything about insecurity?"

"What other reason would there be to get upset about that?" Blake asked. "I mean, if Sun didn't like it the way that Pyrrha doesn't like it, that's one thing — they have the right to object to being … commodified, for want of a better word — but me? Jaune?" She took a second before she went on, "If Sun was going to leave me, he would have done it by now. God knows I've given him cause. But he hasn't, so he won't, and so what do I have to worry about from some girl with a placard?" She smirked. "Besides, I can—"

"Stop," Rainbow said, holding up one hand. "Just … stop. Stop now. I know what you're about to say, and I don't want to hear it." She shook her head and ignored Blake's little chuckle.

Rainbow watched Sun's dorky dance with Neptune for a few seconds longer. "You know what I worry about?" she said.

"What?" asked Blake.

"I really hope that Mantle doesn't grind him down," Rainbow said. "Turn him cynical and bitter and a dick like so many other people down there. Or worse."

"That won't happen," Blake said. "Not to Sun. Not ever."

"I hope you're right about that," Rainbow said with a sigh. "I really, really hope you're right."

After the victories won by Sun and Neptune and Neon and Flynt against Shade teams, there was a real danger that Shade Academy might be swept out of the competition completely; however, Umber Gorgoneion and Reap Matthias managed to forestall that outcome by defeating their Beacon opponents to claim the first and only possible Shade victory of the round.

And so, with only two matches remaining, Beacon Academy had claimed two victories, Haven two, and Atlas and Shade only one apiece. If the pairs from teams BALL and VLCA could win their matches, then Haven would achieve a nigh unprecedented four victories from four matches in the second round and have the potential to dominate the one-on-one round the next day. However, if Yang and Nora and Rainbow and Ciel could win their bouts, then Beacon would go into tomorrow leading with three competitors, and Atlas would regain a smidgeon of lost pride by drawing level with Haven in sending two huntsmen each through to the finals.

It was time for Yang and Nora's match.

XxXxX​

"I'm a little surprised by this, to be honest," Swift Foot said.

"Surprised by what?" Terri-Belle asked, as she settled down.

"The children of Titus Andronicus competing in this tournament," Swift Foot replied. "I mean, their family always shunned the arena, unlike … practically any other family of note with any connection to arms or combat. Their father was a famous warrior, and yet, none of the children competed in the ring, in any tournament. It looked like a point of principle."

"I believe it was a point of principle," Terri-Belle said. "Certainly, Alexius told me so. His family were huntsmen, not performers; defenders of the people, not entertainers of them."

"Alexius," Swift Foot murmured. "Was he—?"

"Yes," Terri-Belle said quickly. "But before he … before that, we were students at Haven together."

"One of your teammates?"

"No," Terri-Belle said. "No, his team, Team Amarylis, had the room across the corridor from us, but for that reason, we were good enough friends … and rivals too."

Swift Foot frowned. "I know I was only young, but … I have vague memories of the friends that you brought over, but I don't remember him at all."

"Yes, well," Terri-Belle murmured.

The truth was, the unspoken truth that nevertheless she sensed, was that their father had not been particularly fond of the Andronicus family. It sounded absurd, that the Steward of Mistral should be jealous of the most minor of patrician houses, but nevertheless, Terri-Belle believed it to be the case that he had been … envious or afraid or both; the acclaim that old Titus Andronicus had won as a huntsman had troubled him. Threatened him.

He had not been the only one. It was a sad fact of Mistral, an exceedingly sad fact, that when Alexius and twenty of the other sons of Titus had fallen, one after another, falling in battle against the grimm or the brigands who roamed Anima, there had been many in the high halls of the upper slopes who rejoiced at it, and rejoiced all the more when Titus retired to his house in what some called grief and others madness.

So it was with anyone who threatened to grow too tall or burn too bright: it would be devoutly hoped that they would burn out.

I suppose we should be grateful that the days when such people would be 'encouraged' to burn out, when the tall stems would have the garden scissors taken to them, are gone and left in the past now.

Even so, it is little wonder that our society is stuck in the mud with such a crab-bucket attitude to greatness.


"In any event," Terri-Belle said, "he told me that his family did not compete in our Mistralian tournaments because they were a huntsman family. Not a warrior family, certainly not a gladiator family, but a huntsman family, specifically."

"And yet, here are Lavinia and Lucius Andronicus," Swift Foot remarked, "fighting in a tournament."

"A huntsman tournament, specifically," Terri-Belle pointed out. "It may be that they believe that there is a difference between this — an event specifically for aspiring huntsmen — and other tournaments. Or … it may be that they wish to keep their family name in the public eye, to remind the people that in spite of the losses they have suffered and the condition of their father, the House of Andronicus is not yet vanquished."

"Or both, I suppose," Swift Foot said. "They did well yesterday, but then so did their opponents."

"Did they?" Terri-Belle asked.

"Yes, but you didn't see that because you only watch the Mistral matches," Swift Foot said pointedly.

"I didn't see it because I have work to do," Terri-Belle replied. "Who are they up against?"

"The last Beacon pair who haven't fought yet: Yang Xiao Long and Nora Valkyrie of Team Iron," Swift Foot explained. "They fought against the appropriately named Team Bronze of Shade yesterday and beat them handily. Admittedly, Team Bronze weren't brilliant, but even so, Team Iron did well against them."

"Yang Xiao Long?" Terri-Belle murmured. "Her name sounds Mistralian."

"Unfortunately, if you're thinking that we could take credit for her somehow, that's a no-go," Swift Foot said.

"How do you know?"

"Because I had the same thought," Swift Foot replied. "That she might be a Mistralian, obviously not from a good family, but a commoner perhaps, who had chosen to go to Beacon instead of Haven. But they've got all the competitor biographies available online, and it says that she was born on Patch."

"Where?"

"Somewhere in Vale," Swift Foot explained.

"I see," Terri-Belle muttered. "And yet, that is a Mistralian name."

"I did some more looking," Swift Foot said, "and you aren't the first person to think that, either. Apparently, there is Mistralian ancestry in her family, from back before the Great War."

"Ah," Terri-Belle said, understanding. So, the Xiao Longs were a family who had moved out of Mistral before the war, probably because they opposed the policies forced on Mistral by the alliance with Mantle. They were not the only ones, but it would be very difficult to point to them as examples of Mistralian success in that case. "Can't be helped, I supposed."

"The girl who's going to be fighting with her is Mistralian, though," Swift Foot went on. "Nora Valkyrie."

"Really? It isn't as obvious from her name," Terri-Belle pointed out. "Where does she come from?"

"I'm not sure," Swift Foot said. "Her biography just says that she's from Mistral. I think … she might be a child of the wind."

"Really?" Terri-Belle asked. "That's … commendable, I suppose, that she has made it to the Vytal Tournament itself, but at the same time, in spite of her accomplishments and the effort it must have taken to attain them … not very useful."

'Child of the wind' was probably the kindest term for what were otherwise called such things as street rats, vagrants, the forsaken. Often, they were the orphaned survivors of grimm attacks; sometimes, their parents didn't want them. In any case, if they were not found quickly and taken in — and in a land as large as Anima, that did not always happen — then they became wanderers, drifting from place to place, unwanted anywhere. Often … usually, they did not survive very long. If they didn't starve, then the grimm would get them. That this Nora Valkyrie had both survived and thrived … she must have a great deal of tenacity and a lot of luck.

On the other hand, much as it perhaps should have been otherwise … tenacity and luck was not enough to get you admired in Mistral. No one would cheer for a child of the wind; the prejudice against them — thieves, beggars, bringers of the grimm with their sorrow and negativity, the feral subjects of a hundred horror stories and urban legends, filthy, disgusting — was too great, that what would have been admirable if they had grown up even on the lower slopes became abhorrent in them.

Sad to say, there would be no propaganda success gotten out of Nora Valkyrie, yet nevertheless … Terri-Belle could not say so, but she found herself rooting for the girl anyway, even against the children of a celebrated Mistralian huntsman.

XxXxX​

"So they've got a plan, right?" Ruby asked as she sat down in the stands with Ren, Blake, Pyrrha, and Jaune. Sunset was down below with Amber and Dove — along with Penny, who wasn't too fussed about watching Yang fight either. Which Ruby felt was a bit of a pity; it would be nice if they could become closer, not least since Penny might even be joining Team YRBN, or YRPN, however that would be pronounced, next year.

But at the same time, someone did need to keep an eye on Amber, and two heads were better than one in that regard, especially since the fairgrounds had really started to get crowded this afternoon.

So, Penny would miss out. Ruby would sure that she would miss something pretty special, but there it was; there wasn't a lot to be done about it.

Provided that Yang and Nora had a plan.

"Nora has reach, with both the hammer and the grenade launcher," Ren explained, "and she will use it. If the enemy seek to close the distance, Yang will be there to stop them and protect her. Once Nora's grenades have softened up the opposition, they will attack, Yang leading and Nora providing support. Close support. Very close support."

"How close is 'very close'?" Ruby asked.

"I hope Yang can duck low enough to avoid Magnhild," Ren said.

"Yeah, that is pretty close," Ruby said quietly. "But, I mean, it sounds like an okay plan, right?"

"A lot depends on how these Andronicus siblings fight," Blake murmured. "Pyrrha, you know them—"

"I know their family and its reputation," Pyrrha corrected her, "but if you want details on their weapons and fighting style … that, I'm afraid, I cannot provide."

"I guess there isn't a family style that they all adhere to," Jaune said.

Pyrrha shook her head. "There isn't really any such thing. There are various schools of the martial art, and families will often adhere to one of them, but there is no specific way of fighting that is the property of the Nikos family or the Andronicus family. My mother was a dual wielder, but I fight with a shield."

"You didn't want to follow in your mother's footsteps?" asked Jaune.

"My teacher, Chiron, did not hold with dual wielding," Pyrrha said, shaking her head. "He called it a foolish vanity."

"So what we should be asking is 'who trained Lavinia and Lucius Andronicus?'" Ren said.

"Perhaps, yes," Pyrrha replied. "Unfortunately, I don't know the answer to that either. But, as huntsman and huntress who have never felt the need to so much as dabble in the arena, they may be free from the … they may not cleave to history as much as many other Mistralian warriors do. They may be more technologically advanced than you might expect from a Haven student. I do not necessarily say they will, but it wouldn't surprise me if it turned out to be the case."

"Less swords and shields, more guns?" Ruby guessed.

"Exactly," Pyrrha said. "Firearms are often seen as a rather gauche weapon for the arena; the crowd much prefer melee weapons — which are safer, in any case, for the aforementioned crowd — and for the battles to be resolved at close quarters. And on top of that … our heritage is one of fighting with sword and spear and shield, the way our ancestors won undying glory."

"Neptune uses a gun," Blake pointed out.

"Neptune's family are great swimming champions, but they have no martial pedigree," Pyrrha replied. "They have no stake in Mistral's old traditions that they should seek to uphold them. That is not the case for most, who are either born into such traditions or seek to ape them in order to be accepted as part of the elite."

"And that's why Miló's rifle mode is its weakest," Ruby said.

"I would not call my rifle weak," Pyrrha said, sounding a little bit … kind of offended, but not as bad as that sounded, but something like it. "But, yes, I don't deny that my spear and sword are my primary weapons. My point is that, if anyone from Haven were to break with that trend, I would expect it to be the scions of Andronicus, who have little care for such shows but seek only to vanquish the grimm and defend the people. I just hope Yang and Nora are prepared for an enemy who may shoot back."

XxXxX​

In the tunnel beneath the stands, Yang grinned at Nora.

"Are you ready for this?"

"Oh yeah, you bet!" Nora declared. "Let's kick some Mistral ass!"

Yang frowned. "Aren't you from Mistral?"

Nora blinked. "Well, yeah, I guess," she said. "But I'm an equal-opportunity ass-kicker."

Yang laughed. "Well, if you're so comfortable with dishing it out to everyone and everything, maybe I should send you into the one-on-one round."

"Nah, you're good," Nora said. "I love this hammer of mine, but it's kind of clumsy to swing it around sometimes."

"Well, if you insist," Yang said. "We should probably get out there before the crowd starts to get impatient."

Nora held out her hand, fingers slightly curled, as though she wanted to do some impromptu arm-wrestling before the match began.

Yang grinned and slammed her palm into Nora's hand, the two girls' fingers closing around one another's hands.

"Let's do this!" they chorused, before they both turned towards the tunnel mouth and walked out of the shadow and into the light.

Their opponents, Lavinia and Lucius Andronicus of Team BALL, were likewise leaving their own tunnel on the other side of the arena, sparing Yang and Nora from having to wait for them, and the two pairs crossed the plain metallic surface almost simultaneously, coming to a standstill in the central hexagon, while the cheers of the crowd blew on them like wind from all directions, the cheers for Yang and Nora mingling with the cheering for the Andronicus siblings until it was impossible to tell who was supporting who, unless you could catch a whiff of that Mistralian song floating above the general hubbub.

Lucius Andronicus had a short fur hat on his head that was only a few inches high, even if it did cover most of his dark hair, so that you could only tell that it was dark because of the bits that came down around his ears. He had a round face with a heavy brow overhanging his golden eyes. He wore a red cloak, fastened around the neck with a gold clasp shaped like a fox's head, over a white t-shirt that left his arms bare, displaying the tattoos that he had on both his arms: on his right arm, a spear wreathed in flames that swirled and danced around it, with the tip pointing downwards towards his hand; while on the left arm, what looked like waves, dancing waves of dark blue and sea green rippling up and down as they travelled down his arm, and amongst the waves were written names in black ink, a lot names, twenty-one names, maybe. Yang couldn't read the names, but the number of them suggested what they were. And all of this in addition to the snarling beowolf's head tattooed on his right cheek. His pants were the brown of wood, and his boots were black and rugged looking. In his hands, he held a pair of … Yang wasn't entirely sure what they were; they looked a little bit like large candles; were they flamethrowers then? Or maybe nunchucks? Or both?

Or just red batons that he'll try and hit me with, Yang thought. I guess I'll find out soon enough.

He wasn't wearing an honour band, Yang noticed, which probably wasn't something that she would have noticed a year ago, but she had spent enough time around Mistralians to notice it now. Admittedly, it wasn't something that they all had — Pyrrha's friend Arslan didn't have one, but Yang was fairly certain that was because she was common as muck and had never had a fancy master to give her one — but Yang would have expected someone from a well-known family to have one. It didn't matter, but at the same time, Yang couldn't help but wonder why he didn't.

Lavinia was a little taller than her brother, with honey blond hair falling loosely down behind her shoulders; her eyes were golden, like her brother's, and her face was … well, it was a pretty face, no doubt about that, and it remained so in spite of the fact that, like Ruby's friend Amber, there were scars on both cheeks that were still just about visible despite the make-up she was wearing to conceal them. She, too, wore a cloak, and although her cloak was forest green, it fastened with a fox-head clasp just like her brother's; Yang guessed it was a family symbol. She wore a sunshine yellow t-shirt with red detailing on the sleeves and waistline, and a red skirt over green trousers and high brown riding boots. She didn't have any visible weapons on her, at least none that Yang could see.

Her arms were both prosthetic, below the elbow on the left but past it higher towards the shoulder on the right. The metal was plain to see, undisguised except for the white bandage strips wrapped around her hand like a boxer might wrap around their knuckles before putting on their gloves, but it was painted in patches, strips of burning red and yellow on the right, softer green and brown upon the left. Unlike her brother, Lavinia was wearing an honour band: a golden armband above her left elbow, with what looked like a decoration of beowolves marching in a ring around it.

Lavinia smiled and began to sign out words, her fingers moving deftly to form shape after shape. It's a pleasure to meet you both. Win or lose, I hope this will be a fight to remember.

Yang smiled back and signed back too, holding up both hands as she formed the words; her movements weren't quite as swift or deft as Lavinia's, but she thought that she was able to make her meaning plain. I certainly plan on winning, but I also hope to make this one for the books.

The smile remained on Lavinia's face as she signed, I'm mute, not deaf, so you can speak to me, if you'd rather.

I'm fine with this,
Yang signed back. Unless that was a polite way of telling me that I'm mangling the words.

Lavinia's smile broadened as she shook her head. Not at all; you're actually doing quite well for someone out of practice.

Who says I'm out of practice?

Your hesitation does.


"Wait a second," Nora said. "Yang, you know sign language?"

"Yeah," Yang said. "I learned it at Signal."

"Why?" asked Nora.

"In case I ever needed to communicate with a deaf or mute person," Yang replied. "Not everyone in danger from the grimm is gonna be able to talk or hear, right?"

"That … makes a lot of sense," Nora acknowledged. "Beacon should offer classes in that!"

"I'll wager that a lot of your fellow students didn't make as much effort as you," Lucius muttered.

"I made an effort," Yang said, signing it out as she said it.

A chiming sound alerted all four students to the fact that the terrain indicators had just flashed up on the edges of the battlefield and were, even now, cycling through the various options available.

"Yang Xiao Long and Nora Valkyrie of Beacon!" Professor Port announced, as parts of the crowd roared in approval.

Have you noticed that they always announced Beacon first? Lavinia signed.

We are the host school; that has to count for something, Yang signed back. She rolled her shoulders, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet as Nora pulled her hammer across her shoulders.

"Lavinia Andronicus and Lucius Andronicus of Haven!" Professor Port cried, and this time, the roar came from the other parts of the stands.

Lucius raised those whatever-they-were in his hands, so that they were practically level with his face. Flames leapt from the tips of them, making the resemblance to candles even more uncanny but making Yang increasingly certain that they were flamethrowers, with dust canisters concealed within.

Lavinia still gave no sign of any weapon; she just raised her arms into a boxing stance, and like Yang, she got onto her toes and the balls of her feet, swaying in place a little in anticipation.

Yang grinned as she pumped her fists, opening up Ember Celica to reveal the guns concealed within.

Lavinia nodded in approval.

The wheels of the terrain randomisers came to a halt, and all around the four, the surface of the arena disappeared, and four biomes arose to take their place. Behind Lavinia and Lucius rose the savannah and ruin biomes; behind Yang and Nora, the desert and the mountain.

Okay, there's stuff we can work with here.

Stuff that they can work with too, probably, but we can … work around that.

Once we start our barrage they'll probably make for the ruins — there's more cover there than in the savannah — but I bet Nora can knock those buildings down, and then won't that be fun?

The plan is sound; stick with the plan.


"Three!" Doctor Oobleck yelled.

Lucius twirled his candle-like flamethrowers in his hands.

"Two!" Professor Port's voice boomed out.

Nora whirled Magnhild above her head, as though it was a competition.

"One!" Doctor Oobleck cried. "Begin!"

Yang stepped forward, sidling closer to Nora as she opened fire with her Ember Celica, fists pumping like she was shadow boxing, each punch causing a booming shot to erupt from one of her vambraces.

She fired at both the siblings, taking intermittent shots first at Lavinia, then at Lucius, then at Lavinia again, but just as Yang had done, Lavinia stepped between her partner and harm. As she did so, she raised her left arm, with its green and brown colour scheme, so that her palm was level with her face and her knuckles were facing outward, and as she did so, a ring of lights upon the back of her hand began to glow pale blue, before a hard-light shield emerged in front of her, on which Yang's shots struck harmlessly.

The Andronicus siblings began to back away, in the direction of the ruins just as Yang had predicted, with Lavinia using her shield to, well, shield Lucius from Yang's shots, as they hit the barrier with no effect that Yang could make out.

Pretty advanced tech for a Mistralian, Yang thought.

But let's see how much it can really take. "Let 'em have it, Nora!"

Nora had switched Magnhild into its grenade launcher form, and she cackled wordlessly as she raised the gaping barrel into the air and fired.

The grenade flew over Yang's head, tracing a pink trail through the air as it rose, and then began to fall down onto the Andronicus siblings.

Lavinia took a step back, raising her right arm, the one painted in fiery reds and yellows. A compartment just behind her wrist opened up, and two squat barrels rose up into view. There was a loud bang, a flash from the muzzles, and Nora's grenade exploded in mid-air.

Nora growled and fired again, and again, and again, grenade after grenade erupting out of Magnhild, flying over Yang's head as Yang opened fire, Ember Celica blazing so brightly that she could barely see.

But what she could see was … not great. Lavinia half-crouched down, taking cover behind her hard-light barrier, which would have been great if there was any sign that the barrier was going to drop, either because she was taking too much damage or because her dust was going to run out, but Yang couldn't see any such sign. She was pinned down, maybe, but none of Yang's shots were getting through, and her right arm reached out from cover again and again to shoot Nora's grenades down in the air before they landed. The air above the battlefield was filled with more pink smoke than a gender reveal party, and the only thing it was doing was probably making it harder for all the spectators to actually see the fight.

Nora stopped firing.

"Are you out?" Yang called.

"Not quite," Nora replied. "But I might need the dust for the hammer." She didn't mention that the grenades were so clearly not working as to make it pointless to keep on firing.

She didn't have to; Yang had eyes.

Yang had almost exhausted her first row of dust phials, so she ejected them, sending them clattering to the floor around her feet, and then reloaded by the simple means of pumping her arms very hard, causing the second row of dust phials to move to the front and chamber.

Now, she wouldn't run out suddenly when they got into close quarters.

She took a deep breath.

"Okay," she muttered. "Let's do this."

She charged forward, and Nora followed behind her with a bellowing warcry on her lips. They attacked with Yang in front and Nora behind, the smaller girl hidden behind Yang except for her giant hammer. Yang took the lead, firing with Ember Celica as she went, not blazing away but letting out a shot here, another there, keeping the pressure on, forcing Lavinia to keep her shield up.

The Andronicus siblings scuttled back towards the edge of the ruins, where they took cover behind a low stone wall. Now, it was Lucius' turn to take the lead, turning to make a stand behind the wall, while Lavinia retreated further in, towards the shattered shell of a house that dominated the biome.

Yang quickened her pace as Lucius levelled one of his weapons in her direction, and a cone of fire erupted out of it.

Yep, it was a flamethrower alright.

The fire rippled over her; Yang could feel the heat, feel her aura beginning to give way before the fire that consumed it, but she could also feel her semblance activating, feel herself getting stronger and faster as she pressed on through the fire. She leapt through the flames, fists flying, shots firing from Ember Celica to hit Lucius square in the chest and knock him backwards onto the rubble. He rolled to his feet quickly and was ready for Yang as she leaped over the wall and threw a punch.

He blocked it, turning her fist aside with one arm so that punch and shot both failed to connect. Then he hit Yang across the face with his other flamethrower, which was quite sturdy enough that it could serve as a baton too.

Yang's head snapped sideways as she felt both the impact of the blow and the flame as it scraped across her cheek.

And she felt herself get stronger because of it.

Yang's eyes did not go red, but her hair was a pale, blazing yellow as she looked back at Lucius with a savage grin on her face.

She fancied that his own face palled a little before she hit him.

Her first punch came downwards, driving him to his knees. Her second was an uppercut to the chin that sent him flying upwards.

He just missed Nora as she jumped over Yang's head, back arched and Magnhild raised above her, flying towards Lavinia to bring her hammer down upon her head.

Lavinia braced, crossing her arms over her face, her hard-light barrier still projected in front of her.

Magnhild descended with a force that seemed inevitable, shattering the barrier like glass, hitting Lavinia's crossed arms with a sound like a gong being rung that echoed out from the two of them, a shockwave that rustled through Yang's golden locks and stirred up the dust that lay on top of the rubble in the biome.

Lavinia's knees bent, she dropped a little bit closer to the ground, but she stayed on her feet, and though her arms trembled just a bit, that was … a lot less than happened to most people when Nora hit them with her hammer.

Does she have a shock-absorbing semblance, like Flash?

"Incredible!" Doctor Oobleck cried. "And this isn't even Lavinia's semblance!"

That's me told, then.

Nora's eyes widened as she began to drop towards the ground.

Lavinia smirked as she spun on one toe and kicked Nora in the gut hard enough to send her flying backwards, backwards straight into Yang, and hard enough to carry both of them backwards, out of the ruins and into the central hexagon, where they skidded across the grey surface before coming to a stop in a tangled heap.

Nora groaned. "Ugh. Are her legs robotic too?"

"Nah, I think she's just doing that focus aura thing that Rainbow Dash does," Yang muttered.

"If she was doing that, then I'd have broken her aura at the arms," Nora countered as she rolled off Yang and got to her feet. She shook her head. "I think we might need a new plan."

Yang got to her own feet in turn. "I think you might be right," she muttered. "We need to—"

She was interrupted by a growl of thunder. Not a thunderous gunshot, but real thunder … well, real fake thunder, anyway; through some really smart means, the arena could create a fake thunderstorm on top of the mountain the same way that they could create a fake sun above the desert.

A fake thunderstorm complete with lightning.

Yang pointed to the mountaintop, with the storm raging around it. "You need to get up there," she said.

Nora grinned. "Got it!" Her smile faltered a little. "But what about you?"

Yang shrugged. "You know, I'll hold them off." She gestured to the ruins, where Lavinia was helping her brother to his feet. The two of them now had their sights set once more on Yang and Nora.

"You sure about that?" Nora asked. "She kicks really hard."

"Sure she does, but I'll make do," Yang replied. "Come on, it's me." She winked.

"Okay," Nora said, in a voice that was not as full of confidence as Yang would have liked, but at least wasn't despairing either. "On three?"

"On one," Yang said. "One! Go!"

Where Yang had led the way in their assault, now, she brought up the rear in their retreat; as Nora ran for the mountain, her legs pounding, Yang hung back, blocking Nora from attack or from sight, running backwards towards the mountain biome.

The Andronicus siblings pursued, with Lavinia in the lead and Lucius following. Lavinia's shield was down — probably, she couldn't reactivate it after it had been broken — but she kept her right hand raised, guns blazing. Yang danced as the bullets flew around her, her feet leaping from here to there, trying to dodge without exposing Nora to any fire.

She wasn't entirely successful — at the dodging part; she covered Nora just fine, but she took a couple of hits, taking her aura down into the yellow. Luckily Lavinia's gun wasn't a large enough calibre to knock her off her feet or anything; it staggered Yang backwards, but she was still going in the right way to protect Nora.

The mountain dominated the mountain biome obviously, but while the mountain was surrounded by grass, the ground around was also littered with rocks, smaller than the mountain, of course, but still pretty big.

Big enough.

Yang ignored the bullets nipping at her aura — what didn't kill you, after all — as she bent down and dug her fingertips into the base of the rock where it met the ground.

She grunted with effort as she heaved. The rock resisted, then it shifted, then all of a sudden, it gave way as Yang wrenched the boulder free out of the ground and with a wordless shout threw it at Lavinia.

Lavinia threw up her arms to protect herself, the boulder shattering on impact, throwing up dust and shards of rock in all directions.

Blinding both the Andronicus siblings for a few crucial moments as Yang flew through the dust cloud to fall on Lavinia.

Lavinia blocked her first punch, just the same way that Lucius had done, turning her hand away so she didn't get hit and Yang's shot went wide. Yang kicked her in the leg, which didn't cut her legs from under but did shake her posture just enough for Yang's gut punch to land. Lavinia exhaled as she bent double.

Flames leapt from Lucius' wands, roaring across the distance towards Yang, who fell back before them. What didn't kill her might make her stronger, but too much of such strengthening would put her aura into the red. So Yang leapt back, away from the flames that licked out at her like the angry tongue of a hungry grimm.

Lavinia burst through the flames, the red fire dying around her as she threw herself at Yang, fists flying. She snapped out one punch, then another, then a spinning kick, and still, Yang fell back. The second-hand experience of Lavinia's kick had been quite enough.

Lavinia threw another punch. Yang dodged it, weaving deftly to the right, her whole body swaying aside, before she threw a punch of her own with her left hand. Lavinia leaned backwards, back arching, as fist and shot flew harmlessly over her head.

Yang pulled her hand before Lavinia could try and grab it. She spotted Lucius running towards the mountain that Nora was, even now, climbing up towards the storm-wracked peak.

Nope.

Yang retreated back a couple of steps away from Lavinia, and as Lavinia pursued her, Yang leapt up, firing Ember Celica down at the ground beneath her feet, launching herself up, up into the air, over Lavinia's head — and over Lucius too — to land just behind Nora on the lowest slopes of the mountain.

Yang launched herself off this vantage point like a missile, firing Ember Celica behind her for more thrust as she blasted straight at Lucius. She was moving so fast that she barely felt the flames that burst from both his candles; she simply didn't spend enough time within the cones of fire to lose much aura, and his flames certainly weren't strong enough to slow her down. She barrelled through the fire before colliding with him, doing more damage to his aura than to hers as she knocked him clean off his feet and onto the grass as he skidded backwards with her on top of him.

He head-butted her, his head jerking up to collide with her nose and snap her own head back and upwards.

Yang gave it right back at him, and again.

She was about to grab him by the neck — with the intention of hopefully tossing him clean out of the arena — when she felt a pair of cold metallic arms wrapping around her torso, pinning Yang's arms in place as she was bodily pulled off Lucius like a squalling, brawling child restrained by the teacher.

Yang threw her head backwards, and even through her mass of hair, she felt herself hit something, but she might as well have missed for all the good it did in terms of getting herself out of here.

Lucius leapt up off the ground before Yang's lashing feet caught him square in the chest and sent him reeling backwards.

He got up again and aimed both his flamethrowers at Yang. He was willing to burn through Lavinia's aura in order to take her out.

While he was doing that, he wasn't stopping Nora reaching the top of the mountain, but that didn't mean that Yang was just going to hang there and take it.

She thrust her head back again, with all the strength that she could muster, colliding with something with a crunch, even as she kicked backwards with both her legs, flailing with them in the hopes of hitting something.

She writhed and wriggled in Lavinia's vice-like grip.

The flames spurted out of the tips of Lucius' red batons.

A grenade, trailing a pink cloud after it like a comet through the sky, fell down from the mountain to explode at Lucius' feet, blasting him up and sideways, sending him pinwheeling through the air, head over heels.

Nora had not quite gained the top of the mountain, but she stood a little bit below the summit, giving Yang an informal salute with one hand.

"I'd salute back if I had my hands free!" Yang yelled up at her. "So you'll have to settle for a 'thank you'!"

Lavinia threw Yang aside, where she bounced along the grass until she hit a rock near the base of the mountain. Lavinia leapt up, trying to follow Nora up the mountain in spite of her head start, but Yang leapt after her, using the blasts of Ember Celica to propel her faster than Lavinia's legs alone could carry her. The two of them collided in mid-air, grappling with one another as they fell to land in the desert sands.

They rolled away from each other, each having sand in their hair as they scrambled upright.

A quick glance at her aura level confirmed what Yang felt: her aura couldn't take much more of this.

A triumphant cry from behind confirmed that Nora had reached the top of the mountain.

"I HAVE THE POWER!" Nora yelled, and as the thunder rolled, Yang wished that she dared turn her back on Lavinia long enough to see it.

But, while she might not have been turned around to look at Nora, she could see the shadow passing overhead as Nora flew over her, descending on Lavinia Andronicus with hammer raised overhead for the second time.

A second time that was different in a few crucial respects.

Lavinia, her eyes wide, seemed to realise that she wasn't going to be able to tank this hit the way she had the last. She was frantically backing away as Nora fell.

Nora landed hard upon the ground, between Lavinia and Yang. A shockwave rippled out from her approach, spraying sand on both the other two huntresses.

Lavinia, having avoided the direct assault, went on the attack, one fist drawn back. She threw a punch with her right hand.

Nora caught it, one-handed, her pink fingerless glove squeaking a little as she closed her hand around Lavinia's fist.

Nora grinned and cackled through her clenched teeth as she hefted Magnhild in one hand and brought it down upon Lavinia's head.

The blow smacked Lavinia down, face first, into the desert sand, driving her into the sand, her face buried in it, her hair splayed out around her.

A klaxon sounded.

"Lavinia Andronicus' aura has been depleted!" Professor Port announced as sounds of exultation and dismay leapt from the throats of those watching. "She has been eliminated.

Nora let go of Lavinia's hand, which flopped down onto the ground beside her.

Yang bent down and rolled the Mistralian huntress over, so that she was looking up at the sky — and at them. So you can breathe, she signed.

Lavinia's fingers twitched, but she didn't reply.

Yang turned away from her; after all, the battle wasn't finished yet.

Lucius was charging towards them, zig-zagging to try and avoid fire. It was a forlorn gesture in a lot of ways — he didn't have enough aura left to take on Nora even if he did get close to her — but she admired the fact that he wasn't just waiting around to lose but determined to go out swinging.

That didn't stop her from trying to shoot him, fire spouting from the barrels of her Ember Celica as rounds flew across the battlefield. Lucius zigged this way and zagged that, Yang's fire flying past him on either side.

He got closer and closer.

Nora strode forwards.

Lucius crossed into the desert biome.

Nora swung her hammer. Lucius ducked underneath it, turning on one toe, almost twirling around Nora, not moving to attack her at all. It was Yang that he wanted to take down, even if he went down himself after.

Flames trailed from his candle-like weapons as he swung them in a wide arc towards her.

Yang hurled herself forwards, with one hand reaching out to grab his arms, with the other taking the last shot that she might get before his flames engulfed her.

She hit him on the shoulder, spinning him around and, more importantly, taking his aura into the red.

"Lucius Andronicus' aura has been depleted!" Doctor Oobleck declared. "Yang Xiao Long and Nora Valkyrie win the match!"

"YEAH!" Yang yelled, raising her arms into the air as the crowd cheered her on, acclaim falling on her from all sides, everybody cheering.

How can Pyrrha just give this up? Yang wondered as she stood with her arms held up in the air, acknowledging the applause, the cheering, the appreciation, the love. How has she not gotten so hooked on this that she can't get enough of it? Was she really that strong, or did she simply not get how incredible this was?

Because it was incredible. All of this … all of this feeling, and all for her. In this place, at this moment, with all this noise ringing in her ears, it didn't matter about Professor Ozpin, it didn't matter that nobody rated her, that nobody wanted her, that she was only invited to join Ruby's secret club at the last moment, that nobody told her any secrets. None of that mattered because, right now, these people loved her, and right now, they were the universe.

"YEAH!" Yang shouted again, laughing for joy as the crowd filled her up with their acclaim.

She turned to Nora and lowered her arms a little, a triumphal gesture turning into the offer of a hug.

It was an offer that Nora accepted eagerly, leaping into Yang's embrace while treating her to a bone-crushing bear hug in return.

"They really love us, don't they?" Nora asked.

"Yeah," Yang said, rubbing her back. "Yeah, I think they really do."

As she let Nora down, Yang noticed Lavinia Andronicus rising unsteadily to her feet.

Despite the circumstances, she had a smile on her face.

Congratulations, she signed. That was a lot of fun.

XxXxX
Author's Note: There will be no new chapter on Friday as I am away. The next new chapter will be out on Monday 25th September.
 
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Chapter 52 - 'Cause You're Losing That Bet
'Cause You're Losing That Bet


Terri-Belle sighed as she and Swift Foot watched Yang Xiao Long and Nora Valkyrie acknowledge the acclaim of the crowd.

"Such a pity that we can't claim them for Mistral," she murmured. "But one of them is definitely not a Mistralian, and the other…"

The other would not be borne by anyone who matters.

"I thought that the children of Andronicus didn't disgrace themselves," Swift Foot ventured. "Lavinia in particular was quite impressive."

"Indeed," Terri-Belle agreed. "In terms of raw skill, I would say that there was precious little between her and Yang. Nora was a little more talented than Lucius Andronicus, and the two of them … they were more coordinated, I think. They had a sense of how the battle should go, what should happen next. A rare skill—"

"Like seeing the moves in chess?" Swift Foot asked.

"To an extent, but this skill is rarer," Terri-Belle said. "It will stand Yang Xiao Long in good stead, I think." She paused. "But, yes, you're right, Lavinia Andronicus has nothing to be ashamed of. I shall definitely try and get them for the Imperial Guard once they graduate. In fact, I might offer to make them huntsmen early so I can get her now."

Swift Foot looked across the room at her. "You think she's ready? You think they're both ready?"

"I fear that if I offered advancement only to Lavinia, then she might refuse on behalf of her insulted brother," Terri-Belle replied. "And frankly, I need all the help I can get."

"But if they're not ready, then…" Swift Foot trailed off for a moment. "Aren't you just setting them up to … to…"

"To die?"

Swift Foot nodded. "As their brothers did," she said.

"And what is 'ready'?" Terri-Belle asked. "Who is ready? What is it about this arbitrary line, the end of four arbitrary years, that separates the ready from the not?"

"Four years is the end of the curriculum," Swift Foot pointed out. "Are you saying that's arbitrary?"

"I'm saying that I've known very few huntsmen or huntresses who were genuinely so much improved at the end of four years at Haven that I couldn't imagine them becoming huntsmen or huntresses sooner," Terri-Belle said. "Some are ready ere they set foot in one of the four academies. And even those who did some growing … four years of growing?"

"What about you?" Swift Foot asked. "When were you ready?"

Terri-Belle considered that for a moment, trying to cast her mind back and create an honest evaluation of herself: who she had been and who she had become.

"By second year," she said. "First year, I was, quite frankly, a mess, but Professor Lionheart soon set me straight. I'm not sure how much more I learned in the last two years."

"That might say more about you than it does about Haven or the curriculum," Swift Foot said softly.

Terri-Belle stared at her, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

Swift Foot held up her hands, even as a slight smile turned up the corner of her mouth. "A jest. A jest, that is all."

"Hmm," Terri-Belle muttered. "Would you wait?"

"What?"

"If I were to offer to make you a huntress, right now," Terri-Belle said. "If I, or someone else, were to bid you take up your sword and defend Mistral, would you do it? Or would you say 'no sister, no father, no sir, I am but a girl of sixteen and have my four years schooling to get through first'?"

Swift Foot was quiet for a moment, turning her head a little bit so that it was hard to see her face beyond her mass of wavy turquoise hair that fell down so long all around her.

"I … would accept," she said softly. "And I would welcome your trust in me." She looked at Terri-Belle. "Are you offering to make me a huntress?"

"No," said Terri-Belle. "You are not ready yet."

Swift Foot folded her arms across her chest. "Oh, really?"

"Yes, really," Terri-Belle told her. "And in any case, Father would not think you ready; at least, I do not think he would. But Lavinia … to be frank, I think that all three huntresses that we just watched are ready. I see very little that any of them will gain from two or three more years of schooling."

Swift Foot frowned, but in the event, she chose not to press the point but instead returned her attention to the television. "So," she said, with a bit of a huff in her breath as she said it, "Beacon will send three fighters through to the one-on-one round. Shade only one. Haven has lost its chance to send more huntsmen through than any other school. If Cicero Ward the Young and Lily Cornelia win this next match, then we, too, will send three fighters through, as many as Beacon, and more than Atlas which will send only one."

"While if they are defeated, then we and Atlas both will send two huntsmen through to the final round tomorrow," Terri-Belle said. "That is … not so bad. It is better than some hoped for at the start of the tournament, though none will admit it now. Rather, all will say that they always believe we could do it … right up until the moment where we do not do it, and then, everyone will recall sagely how they knew it was foolish to get our hopes up." It had been exactly the same in her year, during her run at the title. Everyone had believed she could do it, right up until they had, with the cosy benefit of hindsight, never believed that she could do it.

She didn't mind that they had not believed — to be a fan of Haven was to grow accustomed to disappointments — but it did irk her a little bit that everyone felt the need to pretend otherwise — or to lie, to put it another way.

"Do you think that Cicero and Cornelia will win?" Swift Foot asked. "I mean, their opponents are two from the team who defeated Team Jasmine yesterday."

"Yes, it's an unfortunate match-up," Terri-Belle agreed. "But we can hope. I'm sure that, inspired by the words of our good Councillor Ward, the Haven students will fight bravely, at the least. 'Live as brave men, and if fortune is adverse, front its blows with brave hearts.' Whatever else may be said of the Councillor, he does know how to turn a phrase."

"But not, perhaps, to live up to one," Swift Foot murmured. "When was the last time he did anything brave?"

"Some might say that it takes courage to face some of the men he has prosecuted in court," Terri-Belle pointed out. "Or to face those who are prosecuting the men he has defended. There are more kinds of courage than can be found upon the battlefield."

"I know," Swift Foot said, but quietly and with a touch of contrition in her voice. The contrition did not survive the cheeky grin that spread across her face. "Hey," she said, "if Cicero the younger is defeated, do you think that his father will publish a letter on how to bear up after defeat, or will he publish the letter about how to respond to triumph that he would have sent his son if he had won?"

"I feel as though there is an unkind jest there," Terri-Belle murmured. "Councillor Ward is a Councillor of Mistral—"

"He's also a bit of a blowhard," Swift Foot said. "Yes, he writes well, but gods, he likes the sound of his own voice. Or he likes to see his own words set down in print, anyway, whether he spoke them or not. This is a man who published a courtroom speech he didn't give in defence of a man who was convicted."

"But a Councillor of Mistral, nonetheless, and one who deserves better than to be mocked by a mere girl," Terri-Belle said.

Swift Foot bowed her head. "As you say, Captain." She paused for a moment. "In any case, his son was skilled enough yesterday."

Terri-Belle nodded. "I have heard," she said, "that he is not the best student at Haven—"

"But that doesn't matter, according to you."

"Nobody likes a sophist," Terri-Belle instructed her. "My point is, or was going to be, that although, as I have heard, he is not the best student, he and his team have already triumphed once, so who is to say that they cannot do so again?"

XxXxX​

"And so, we began the day with Canterlot Alumni, and we end the day with Canterlot Alumni," Vice Principal Luna declared. "At least we are unambiguously clear on who to root for this time."

Principal Celestia chuckled. "Indeed. Indeed. I have every confidence in Rainbow Dash. From what we saw of these Haven students yesterday, I don't think they're a match for her."

"Hmm," Luna murmured.

"You doubt it?" Celestia asked. "You doubt Rainbow Dash?"

"I think she has made a mistake, bringing Soleil into the round with her," Luna said. "I would have preferred to see more of that Polendina girl."

"She did seem to possess quite a talent," Celestia allowed. "But I'm sure that Rainbow Dash had her reasons."

"I hope so," Luna replied, "for her sake, at the very least."

XxXxX​

"Leaf!" Veil yelled. "They're about to start!"

Leaf, loitering outside the open door to the apartment, hastily stubbed out the cigarette that she'd been smoking and rushed inside. The door slid shut behind her.

"You know you really shouldn't litter the tunnel like that," Veil told her.

"Won't a robot come along and clean it up?" asked Leaf.

"That's not the point," Veil said. "It's about having some civic pride in where we live."

"Okay, I'll go and pick it up," Leaf said. "But after this match, because I don't want to miss any of Rainbow kicking ass."

XxXxX​

"I imagine they'll be starting soon, sir," Winter said quietly.

"Yes, Schnee, I imagine they will," Ironwood replied.

For a moment, there was quiet in the CIC. Not silence, of course, but the ambient, calm, orderly quiet of professionals who knew what they were doing getting on with their assigned tasks in an orderly manner, devoid of fuss. The quiet of footsteps on the deck, of questions asked and answered, orders given and acknowledged, the quiet of a lack of alarm or panic.

The quiet of good order.

Winter said, "You know, sir, we can afford for you to step away for a short period, if you wish. The grimm haven't advanced, it doesn't appear as though anything is going to happen, and either I or Major Fitzjames can alert you immediately if it does."

"I can, sir," Fitzjames said. "Since the Valish have put a leash on us and won't take it off, we're all rather … marking time at the moment, in limbo. There's nothing happening that requires the commanding general's presence."

"Am I cramping your style, Fitzjames?" Ironwood asked, with a touch of amusement in his voice.

"No, sir," Fitzjames said immediately. "But we all know that you … if you wanted to observe—"

"No, thank you," Ironwood said. "I appreciate your concern, both of you, but it's quite unnecessary."

"Sir," Winter said. "You allowed me to—"

"Yes, Schnee I did," Ironwood said, before she could finish. "But you aren't the commanding officer. Not yet, anyway."

"No, sir," Winter murmured.

"In any case," Ironwood said, "I have my yeoman recording the match for me."

Fitzjames chuckled.

"I'm sure they'll give good account of themselves, sir," Winter said.

"I agree," Ironwood said. There was a part of him that mildly regretted that fact that he wouldn't get the chance to see Penny in action, but there was another part of him that was glad that Soleil was getting this opportunity, and that part of him was possibly a little larger.

"Gods know that we could do with the win," Fitzjames muttered. "Three matches and only a single victory out of them, and a most improbable victory at that."

"'Improbable'?" Ironwood asked.

Fitzjames shuffled a little in his seat. "I must confess, sir, I didn't have much hope of the fellow with the trumpet. I must confess I find some of the gimmicks of your students a little … too out there."

"I admit I've thought so too, at times," Ironwood admitted. "But it seems to work out for them. Coal is better than his weapon might suggest, although I think it was Katt who we have to credit for the victory in their case; she's the strength at the heart of Team Funky."

"If you say so, sir," Fitzjames said. "In any case, we've had damnable bad luck today."

"Our students have faced damnable good opponents," Winter corrected him.

"Believe me, Major Schnee, I didn't mean to disparage your sister at all," Fitzjames said, "but being pitted against good opponents could, in itself, be called bad luck, no?"

"Is there such a thing as a poor opponent at this stage in the competition?"

"I hope so," Fitzjames said, "and that the Team Rosepetal duo are up against them. We could do with an easy ride to draw level with Haven in the honours."

The doors to the bridge opened, and Colonel Skybeak walked in. Ironwood turned to face him as he did so. The Valish Colonel came to a halt level with Schnee and offered Ironwood a salute which Ironwood returned.

"General Ironwood," he said, "I've just been speaking to the commanding officers of the Valish units on the Green Line: the Patch Light Infantry and the Green Lancers. They've been observing the grimm from a distance, but like you, General Blackthorn has ordered them not to engage. They don't understand it either, and I still don't, but I suppose it shows that it's nothing personal against you or Atlas."

"I suppose it does," Ironwood conceded. "Although I'm not sure how much comfort that is."

"I've known General Blackthorn most of my career, General," Sky Beak said. "And though I don't understand what's driving him at the moment, I've never before known him to be an insensible man. I hope there is some method in his actions, and I would like to believe that I'm just not seeing his plan."

XxXxX​

"Blake!" Mom cried. "How wonderful to see you again!"

Blake stopped. She had just walked into Cadance's private box, accompanied by Sun, Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, Twilight, Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy, and Pinkie Pie. Now, as the rest of Rainbow's friends crowded in around her, she put one hand upon her hip. "Again? You saw me yesterday, Mom."

"Yes, but that was a day ago, dear," Mom replied.

Blake rolled her eyes. "Hello, Mom." She bowed her head to Cadance. "Good afternoon Councillor, Captain Armor."

"Blake, please," Cadance said. "This isn't official business, after all." She smiled. "Twilight, girls."

Twilight beamed. "Hey, Cadance. Hey, Shining Armor."

"Twily."

"Woof," said Spike, who was cradled in Twilight's arms.

Shining Armor frowned. "What did he say?"

"He … barked," Twilight said, her eyes widening just a little bit behind her spectacles. "That's what dogs do, after all."

"He didn't sound as though he was barking," Shining Armor replied. "He sounded like he was saying 'woof.'"

"Have you by any chance been working too hard, Captain?" Rarity asked. "I mean whoever heard of a dog saying 'woof.' It sounds to me as though the long hours of lonely sentry duty might be getting to you. Cadance, darling, perhaps you should consider giving your dashing husband a bit of a break."

Cadance laughed. "Is that right, Shining, am I working you too hard?"

"No, not at all," Shining Armor assured her. "I just … never mind; I misheard the little guy, obviously." He reached out and patted Spike on top of the head.

Spike looked rather smug, thought Blake, considering that it was only thanks to Rarity that he had gotten away with it.

Can he bark normally now?

"Well, let me know if you do need a break," Cadance instructed him. "But anyway, how are you girls?"

"We're doing all right, thanks for askin'," Applejack replied. "We're doin' a mite better than Atlas has been doin' today, I have to say."

"Yes, it hasn't our best day so far, has it?" Cadance admitted.

"Only because we've saved the best for last!" Pinkie declared.

Cadance chuckled. "Yes, I'm sure that will turn out to be the case. Please, all of you, sit down, make yourselves comfortable, and you can order concessions through the pad on the right armrest."

"Ooh, free concessions?" Pinkie asked.

"Don't gorge yourself, Pinkie Pie," Rarity told her.

"I will!"

"Thank you for inviting us up here," Twilight said as she led the way towards the vacant seats. "You didn't have to."

"No, but I thought it might be fun," Cadance said. To the younger girls, she said, "And how about you, children? How have you been enjoying the tournament so far?"

"It's been awesome!" Scootaloo declared.

"And the fair grounds have been a lot of fun too," Apple Bloom added.

"There does seem to be a lot of effort to keep everyone entertained outside of the matches, doesn't there?" Mom asked. She smiled. "Forgive me, I'm Kali Belladonna, Blake's mother."

"Pleased to meetcha, ma'am!" Apple Bloom said cheerily. "Ah'm Apple Bloom, Applejack's little sister."

"And I'm Sweetie Belle, Rarity's little sister."

"And my name's Scootaloo, I'm Rainbow Dash's … honorary little sister."

"Don't say it like that," Apple Bloom told her. "You make it sound like it's less or somethin'."

"So did you come to watch Blake in the Vytal Tournament, ma'am?" asked Sweetie Belle.

"No, that was more of a happy coincidence," Mom said. She glanced at Blake, who hadn't yet made a move to sit down. "You see, I haven't seen Blake in quite some time, so when I had the chance to come to Beacon and see her, I jumped at the opportunity. The Vytal Tournament happening at the same time was just a bonus."

"Why has it been so long?" Scootaloo asked. Her voice took on a slightly accusatory tone. "Do you travel a lot for your 'work'?"

"No, it's not that," Blake said quickly. "It's … it's my fault, I—"

"Why don't we save that story for another time?" Twilight suggested. "We don't want to spoil the mood ahead of the match."

Everyone started to sit down. Everyone except for Blake, and Blake did not because she noticed that Sun wasn't making any move to sit down either. He was loitering in the entranceway into the box, with Shining Armor and the rest of Cadance's security occasionally glancing his way, as though they, too, were wondering why he didn't just get inside already.

"Sun?" Blake murmured, reaching out for him a little.

Sun squirmed. "Sorry," he said, "I just don't—"

"Ah, you must be Sun Wukong," Cadance said. "Kali has told me so much about you."

"She has?" Sun asked.

"You have?" demanded Blake.

"Why are you glaring at me as though I've done something wrong?" Mom asked innocently; Blake couldn't tell whether she actually believed she was innocent or not.

"Please," Cadance said, gesturing in front of her. "Come."

Sun hesitated.

Blake reached out and took his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It'll be okay," she assured him.

"I don't bite," Cadance said.

Still, Sun's steps forward were cautious, wary, like an animal that might bolt at any moment if he were startled.

Cadance and Kali both seemed rather amused by it.

Blake, following behind Sun, put a hand on his shoulder.

"So," Cadance said softly, "Kali tells me that you plan to drop out of school and move to Mantle."

"You told her that?" Blake demanded as her feline ears pressed down into the midst of her wild black hair.

"I thought she could help," Mom replied.

"Uh … yes?" Sun said. "Yes, I am, ma'am."

"Cadance," Cadance told him. "I insist." She paused. "I have to say that a school drop-out isn't the kind of boy I'd want my daughter dating, but on the other hand, you might say that Mantle has enough freelance Atlas graduates running around its streets. And, in any case, Blake isn't my daughter, and Kali has asked me to help you."

"Help … help me how, ma'a—, I mean, help me how?" asked Sun.

"Yes, Mom," Blake said through gritted teeth. "Help him how?"

Cadance was quiet for a moment. "I take it that you don't want to go to school in Atlas?" she said.

"No," Sun said at once. "No, I don't."

"Because…?"

"Because I don't need it," Sun said. "I haven't learnt much while I've been at school, and I don't think I'll learn much more in the next three years. And anyway, the world isn't going to wait for me to sit in a classroom bored out of my mind; things are happening now, people need help right now, and I want to help them, right now."

"Even if it means stepping outside the law?" Shining Armor asked. "Becoming a vigilante?"

Sun's nervousness seemed to slough off him like dirt being washed off in the shower. "If doing the right thing is a crime, then that says more about the people who make the laws then about those who break them."

Cadance's eyebrows rose.

"You're becoming more like Blake, I see," Mom observed.

Sun laughed nervously. "Not really," he said, "but … if I had to learn from someone, if I had to pick someone to be my … my guiding light, I could think of a lot worse people to follow than someone who always knows the right thing and who never gives up."

Blake felt her cheeks start heating up. She looked away, murmuring, "We all have a better guide in ourselves."

"I'm not sure that's always true," Twilight said. "Although it does sound a lot better than blaming yourself for the failures of others."

"Sun, your passion is admirable," Mom said, "but I hope you can understand that I don't particularly want Blake's boyfriend to go to prison. Hopefully, you can both forgive me for asking my new friend Cadance here to do what she could."

"And … what is it that you can do?" Blake asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

Cadance was silent for a moment. She folded her arms, creasing the sleeves of her pink trouser suit. "This would be easier if you weren't a young man in a hurry," she said. "But … what if I could get you licensed? Or does the vigilantism aspect appeal to you, the thrill of sneaking around, dodging the police, hiding yourself and your actions?"

"There'll be some of that anyway," Shining Armor said flatly. "The only thing a licence protects you from is a charge of illegal use of weapons; it doesn't protect you from the consequences of your weapon usage."

"True," Cadance said. "But it does grant just a little more freedom of movement and action."

Blake was silent. Licensed? Just like that? Was that possible?

"Licensed?" Sun stammered, seeming to have much the same thoughts as Blake herself. "You mean … like a huntsman?"

"Exactly like a huntsman," Cadance said. "I could ask Shining Armor to do it right now, if you like. Any huntsman can make a huntsman, isn't that right, Shining Armor?"

"In theory," Shining Armor said, sounding reluctant to admit it. "But just because any huntsman can make a huntsman doesn't mean that any other huntsman is obliged to recognise the fact, let alone the state. That's why the academies exist, as an organised channel through which recognised licences can be issued that everyone can trust to be legitimate."

"But surely the licence is the important part, as far as protecting Sun from the law is concerned," Mom pointed out.

"Yes, but I can take care of that," Cadance assured her. "I can make sure that Sun is licensed, if Shining Armor tells me that he's ready for it. If that's what you want, Sun Wukong, if you don't want the allure of being a romantic outlaw."

"It kind of sounds like I'll be a bit of an outlaw anyway," Sun pointed out.

Cadance chuckled. "Well," she said, "that really depends on what exactly you plan to do in Mantle, doesn't it?"

"I want to help," Sun said. "I want to protect the people?"

"But protect the people from who?" Cadance asked. "That's a rhetorical question, I'm not expecting an answer out of you; have you even been to Mantle?"

"Um … no," Sun admitted. "No, I haven't; I only know what I've heard on the news."

"And yet, driven by … devotion, you're going anyway," Cadance said with a glance at Blake. "What you find when you get there, what you decide to do with what you find, that will determine whether you become an outlaw or not … unless you're not licensed; then you'll be an outlaw no matter what you do."

"If it's so easy," Blake said. "If you can make Sun a huntsman with a snap of your fingers, then why haven't you done it for Rainbow Dash?"

"Because a huntsman licence is not a commission, and that's what Rainbow really wants," Cadance replied. "And that can only be earned through graduating from Atlas."

"Of course," Blake murmured. "All the same, you're being very generous, considering you don't know Sun at all."

"I'm doing a favour to a new friend, as a token of what I hope will be a beneficial friendship between Atlas and Menagerie," Cadance said.

"Hmm," Blake murmured. That was … that was an answer. It was an answer that she couldn't say whether it was good or bad; it sounded like it would be good for Sun, and that was a good thing, whatever Cadance's motives for it.

If it was what Sun wanted.

"Sun?" she asked softly.

Sun shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

Blake almost laughed. Of course Sun would cut right through it all.

The corners of Cadance's lips twitched upwards. "All right then," she said. "I'll let Shining make the arrangements for your final exam, but right now … we should probably all settle down before the match begins, shouldn't we?"

XxXxX​

"Hey, hey, hey!" Neon called out as she walked down the corridor, hips swaying to such an exaggerated degree that it could only be by intent, not accident. "Wassup, how are we feeling?"

"Oh, you know," Rainbow said. "Pretty good, but not overconfident."

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure you're hitting the balance perfectly," Neon replied. As she drew near to Ciel and Rainbow Dash, she reached out and put her arms around their necks, drawing them in closer to her — and bending Rainbow's back to force her head down at more like Neon's level. "You guys know what is at stake here, right?"

"If we are defeated, Atlas will have fallen behind Haven," Ciel muttered.

"Well, yes," Neon said. "But more importantly, I will laugh at you. And I will never stop. Ever." She grinned. "And you don't want that, do you?"

"The thought itself is torment," Ciel muttered dryly.

Neon sniggered. "Well, then you'd better get out there and win, hadn't you?" She released them both. "Do you know who you're up against out there?"

"Cicero Ward—"

"The Younger," Rainbow said. "Apparently, we can't forget that part."

Ciel continued on, "—is the son of a Mistralian Councillor."

"So he's coasting on Daddy's influence?" Neon guessed.

Rainbow shook her head. "It's not like that. I mean, if you wanted to do that, you'd probably choose something less dangerous, but Ciel, tell her all the competitions he's been in."

"Oh, you actually decided to do some research for this round, huh?" Neon asked, a grin on her face that verged on the unpleasant.

Ciel gazed at her in turn with a look that verged upon a glare.

"Don't look at me that way," Neon said, pointing at Neon's eyes. "I love you, but you know you were caught out in your last match. You hadn't done the prep-work—"

"We had been rather pre-occupied," Ciel pointed out.

"I know, I know," Neon said. "But you know that you walked on the wild side for that round; otherwise, you wouldn't have looked into this pair."

"You know that one-on-one rounds are fought blind, right?" Rainbow asked. "Everyone is in the arena, and they just draw the first match and off you go. Your name gets called, you get out there. No prep, no planning. It's not until the second to last match gets called that you know, if you're one of the last pair, who you'll be facing ahead of time."

Neon nodded. "Yeah, I know the way it works. I watched the tournament when I was a kid too."

"And you know why it's all done blind, right?" Rainbow asked. "Because when you go out there on the battlefield, you don't know what you'll be up against ahead of time, what you'll be facing and what they can do."

Neon's eyes narrowed. "So you're telling me that your lack of preparation was a deliberate choice on your part to wing it? For realism?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Rainbow said, with a nod of her head. "I'd rather show that I can put something together on the wing, even if I am taken by surprise. Sure, I could have come up with a detailed plan, that has its place, but so does the ability to adapt and overcome when you're taken by surprise."

"So why are you making a plan now?" Neon asked bluntly.

"For my sake," Ciel said.

"It's Ciel's plan," Rainbow said. "Her show. Tell her what you told me about the two we're up against."

"Mister Ward has won some acclaim in the Mistralian tournament circuit," Ciel declared, after clearing her throat. "Fourth place in last year's Eleusinian Games, sixth place in last year's Mistralian Regional Tournament, third place in the Synoikia—"

"Fourth, sixth, third, has he ever actually won anything?" Neon asked.

"He won the games held in honour of his father's wedding," Ciel said. "Obviously his second marriage." She could not help a note of disapproval entering her voice. "To a much younger woman."

"Maybe that was why his son was mad enough to win the tournament that time," Neon muttered.

"That might be a point in his favour, if so," Ciel replied.

"Times like these remind me that you're both religious," Rainbow said.

"It's not about religion; it's about … you don't think there's something kind of … icky about an age gap?" Neon asked.

Rainbow shrugged. "Love is love."

"And he's a powerful guy; what makes you think love has anything to do with it?" asked Neon.

"A bit cynical, don't you think?"

"I prefer to call it 'having eyes,' Dashie."

Rainbow rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, anyway—"

"Anyway, it doesn't sound like you have too much to worry about with him. He's not that good by the sounds of it."

"He is not so terrible that we should blithely underestimate him," Ciel replied. "His teammate, Lily Cornelia, comes from Eleusinoi, a moderately sized town just beyond Mistral proper. She has not competed in tournaments, at least not as far as I could discover. But she is reasonably well-regarded as a student. They are both close range fighters, so we have the advantage in that regard."

Neon grinned. "Let me guess: Rainbow is going to cover you while you snipe them."

"Not quite," Ciel replied. "Cicero Ward—"

"The Younger."

"He has a semblance that allows him to launch a powerful sonic attack with his voice, giving them some ranged capability. Therefore, my plan calls for Rainbow Dash to fly upwards and engage from a distance similarly to myself, only closing the distance if absolutely necessary."

Neon cocked her head to one side. "Then who'll cover you? With Dash up in the air, you—"

"I shall have to defend myself, if possible by movement and concealment," Ciel said. "If not, by defending myself."

Neon frowned. "No offence, Ciel, but you're not the best up close."

"I am a soldier of Atlas," Ciel replied. "I am not helpless."

"I didn't say you were, but…" Neon trailed off. "I'm not sure I like this."

"Then I hope that you will change your mind when you see it — and me — in action," Ciel said softly.

"Hey, don't say it like … it sounds like I don't have any faith in you," Neon protested. "I have faith, I have…" She peeled herself off the wall, and reached out to take Ciel's shoulders in her hands. "It's going to be great," she said. "You're going to be great, and I am sure that I will love every minute of it. Unless I don't get a seat because I'm standing around here. Knock 'em dead! But not literally, or you'll get in trouble! Good luck!" She sped away, the rainbow that she left behind illuminating her passage even after Neon herself had disappeared out of sight.

Rainbow looked after her for a moment, then turned her attention back to Ciel.

"So," she said, "how are you feeling?"

Ciel smiled. "I am always left feeling better for Neon's presence, even once that presence has departed. And in any case … I am confident."

"You should be," Rainbow said. "Not overconfident, maybe, but the only thing that we don't know is Lily Cornelia's semblance, and that … I'm sure we can deal with that, whatever it turns out to be. She might not even have one."

"Or she is hiding it," Ciel responded.

"Well, if she is, I'm sure Doctor Oobleck will spill the beans for us the first time she uses it," Rainbow said.

Ciel let out the slightest laugh in response to that. "He is rather … indiscreet."

"I suppose it is his job," Rainbow said.

"I would prefer that it were not his job to make our lives harder once this tournament is over," Ciel said. "But it is what it is. Thank you for allowing me to give some consideration to our opponents on this occasion."

"In the first match, we showed that we're strong enough to overcome surprises," Rainbow said. "In this match, we show that we can think. The audience is getting the full spectrum of us in this tournament." She paused. "Although, I can't help but think that Neon has a point; are you sure that you're going to be alright, on your own, with no one standing between you and the opposition?"

"As I told Neon," Ciel said, "if the situation does come to it, I will be fine."

"Okay then, if you're sure," Rainbow said. "Are you ready to strut our stuff?"

"Strutting is not something with which I have great experience," Ciel replied. "But I am ready to go."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Rainbow asked.

They turned, and side by side, they walked out together, into the light of the arena.

The crowd cheered for them, or else they cheered for their Haven opponents who were making their way out from the opposite side of the arena, the cheering intermingling in a whirlwind of noise in which all voices, all particular sounds, were lost in a mere mass of sound, like bad music inattentively listened to, audible wallpaper for the senses as they were distracted by some other, more important task.

Like focussing upon their opponents, who came into view as the two sides closed with one another, approaching from opposite sides to meet in the middle.

Team VLCA was a second-year team, and each of its members, by this point of the year, passed their nineteenth birthday, but nevertheless, Lily Cornelia looked younger than her nineteen years, courtesy of her very clear blue eyes and the way that she wore her blonde hair in pigtails, tied off at the ends with green ribbons, which combined to take at least a year off her actual age. She was of average height and willowy in build, with a beauty spot under her right eye. She wore a lava red tunic on top of a rocky grey skirt, with a slit up one side that revealed her leg and the riding boot that enclosed it. A lily white kerchief was tied around her neck, while a simple bronze pectoral was strapped across her chest. Her arms were bare, save for the bronze band that she wore above her left elbow, but her hands and wrists were both concealed beneath sturdy-looking riding gloves. A broad-brimmed straw hat sat on her head, casting a shadow over her face. She held a metal staff in one hand, the tip resting upon the ground.

Cicero Ward the Younger was taller than his teammate, but only by a little, with dark eyes and dark hair. His face was handsome enough, Ciel supposed, with rather chiselled features and fine cheekbones, helped by the tidy manner in which he arranged his hair, slickly combed across his head to the left with plenty of oil to hold it in place, but all of it marred somewhat by the prominent mole on his right cheek. He wore robes of chickpea yellow that flowed out behind him while exposing the fiery orange tunic that he had on underneath. His trousers were black, but red lines rippled up and down the legs so that they almost looked like blood vessels. He wore no armour across his chest, but he did wear a set of black leather pteruges around his waist, covering his hips, and strips of purple linen bound around his hands and arms up to his elbows. Above his left elbow, like so many Mistralians, he wore a band of gold, with a yellow topaz set in it.

In his right hand, he held a whip, fashioned out of metallic segments with flexible joints connecting them, with a phial of lightning dust set in the handle; in his left hand, he held a short sword with a phial of fire dust in the hilt.

The two sides faced each other in the centre of the battlefield.

"My father may want to write about this," Cicero said. "So if we could all make it somehow worth writing about, that would be for the best."

"Write about it how?" Rainbow asked. "I thought your father was a Councillor."

"Do you imagine that Councillors don't write?" asked Lily.

"I know they can write; I'm not just not sure why one would want to write about a tournament match," Rainbow replied.

"He'll probably write about courage," Cicero explained. "Or martial training. Or … to be quite honest, my father could write an essay about the scrambled eggs on toast he had for breakfast, and he'd publish it in the expectation that people would be interested in his views." He paused. "While we're on the subject, I don't suppose that you could let me win so that I can avoid a sternly worded letter on how I've let him down."

"You have my sympathies, but I fear we must decline," Ciel murmured.

"I mean, it's not like we don't have people of our own who we don't want to let down," Rainbow added.

"I thought as much," Cicero said with a sigh. "But I thought it couldn't hurt to try. Nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that. We'll just have to beat you fair and square, I suppose."

Rainbow snorted. "You can give it a go, sure."

The chime sounded as the images of the various biomes appeared on the edges of the four quadrants of the battlefield and began to whirl around and around.

"Rainbow Dash and Ciel Soleil of Atlas!" Professor Port announced, prompting renewed cheering from certain sections of the crowd.

"Lily Cornelia and Cicero Ward of Haven!"

"The Younger, Cicero Ward the Younger," Cicero muttered. "Would it have been so hard to remember?"

One by one, the biomes were chosen, the rotating images each settling upon one single image, and that image in turn prompting the terrain itself to rise from the depths like a grimm of the deeps emerging to devour a ship at sea: behind Ciel, the coast and the shipwreck; behind Rainbow Dash, the forest; behind Cicero Ward the Younger, the gravity platforms; behind Lily Cornelia, the savannah.

"Three!" Doctor Oobleck called.

Distant Thunder expanded in Ciel's hands as she pulled it over her shoulder, feeling the satisfying weight of it against her gloved palms.

"Two!" Professor Port's voice boomed out.

Rainbow Dash's Wings of Harmony unfurled with a series of mechanical clanks and clatters, giving a clue as to what Rainbow meant to do once the battle started.

"One!" Doctor Oobleck shouted.

Lily and Cicero both settled into fighting stances, ready to go.

"Begin!" cried Professor Port.

Rainbow Dash leapt upwards, taking to the skies. Lily began to retreat backwards towards the long grass of the savannah. Ciel raised Distant Thunder to her shoulder, but before she could even take aim at Lily, a crack of Cicero's whip in her direction forced her to leap aside.

The sound of Rainbow's pistols were soft, quiet snapping sounds like well-behaved dogs as she opened fire upon Cicero, who tried to deflect the fire with his short sword, to only mixed success.

With Cicero thus engaged, and with Lily having disappeared into the long grass, Ciel decided to take up a better position than exposed in the centre of the field. Two options lay behind her: the mast of the ship and one of the trees of the forest. Both offered a high, commanding view of the battlefield — although the gravity platforms might have offered a better one, if they had not brought her so close by Cicero and potentially so close to Lily — but the mast was the more exposed, and so Ciel chose to follow the lead of May Zedong by taking cover in the trees.

Fortunately, Cicero was not so well-equipped to respond to that as Blake had been.

Ciel retreated, her footsteps pattering lightly upon the grey metallic surface of the central hexagon, brushing briefly over the sandy shore of the shipwreck coast, and then passing — steering clear of Rainbow's battle with Cicero — into the shadowy eaves of the forest, where sunlight dappled through the trees.

Jumping with Distant Thunder was a little tricky due to its weight, but without any enemies close by, Ciel was free to concentrate her aura into her legs to give her extra power for a jump which carried her up into the high branches. There, at the edge of the forest, she crouched, balanced upon a sturdy-seeming outgrowth of the tree.

She raised Distant Thunder to her shoulder, her world shrinking to what she could see through the scope.

What she could see was Cicero Ward the Younger making somewhat flailing efforts to hit Rainbow Dash with his whip. The whip extended outwards, elongating itself, but it did not extend enough to be able to catch Rainbow Dash, who sometimes soared so high that she nearly touched the shield that formed the ceiling of the arena before swooping down again to increase the accuracy of her pistols, only to turn back and soar up once again beyond the range of Cicero's retaliation.

Cicero shouted, unleashing a sonic attack with his semblance, powerful soundwaves erupting out of his mouth, so powerful that Ciel could see them like rings of smoke expanding outwards, but Rainbow Dash was too good a flyer to be struck by them; she turned away, rolling and angling herself and her wings to so that the sonic waves passed by her, without touching her or harming her.

Then she resumed firing upon Cicero, who was able to deflect some but not all of Rainbow's rounds.

Ciel sighted him. With the damage that his aura had already taken, it might be that … no, it would take more than a single shot from Distant Thunder to eliminate him from the fight.

But it would do much to bring him to that point.

Ciel's finger began to squeeze the trigger.

Ciel felt something, a disturbance in her aura caused by someone nearby, someone in very close proximity. She started to look up, but even as she did so, she felt something solid strike her very hard in the gut. Ciel winced, firing Distant Thunder as the barrel jerked downwards, blowing a hole in the floor.

Ciel looked around. She could see nothing, there was nobody there, but then—

She was struck again, this time on the side of the head, a blow which knocked her sideways off the branch on which she had been standing. Ciel struggled to keep hold of her rifle as she fell to the ground, tumbling around and around in circles before landing on her back with a heavy thud.

She could see nothing but trees above her, but nevertheless, she rolled to one side to avoid an expected blow. If she could get back on her feet, then—

She was knocked down again, her legs cut out from under her, then another blow to her back forced her right down onto the ground, head pressed against the artificial grass and soil that littered the forest floor.

Lily's semblance. She must have the ability to… conceal herself, or turn invisible. She retreated into the long grass, concealed herself, then emerged out of the long grass and crossed the arena into the forest without anyone realising it.

She has done very well to conceal her semblance all this time — no pun intended.


As the invisible Lily kicked Ciel in the side, Ciel found herself wishing that her opponent had not done quite so well.

If I use my semblance, I will be able to see where the blows are going to land.

But will that help me to hit back?

Have I any other options?


The soft spitting sounds of Rainbow's pistols sounded much closer now, as Rainbow Dash stood in the eaves of the forest, firing Brutal Honesty and Plain Awesome at the Lily whom Ciel could not see.

But Rainbow Dash could, thanks to the goggles covering her eyes.

Ciel couldn't see her opponent, but she could see Rainbow's bullets hitting something, bullets thudding into something invisible.

Unfortunately, by the time that Ciel was in a position to fire herself, Rainbow had ceased shooting.

Rainbow strode towards her, head turning this way and that, guns pointing this way and that. "Are you okay?"

"I have been better, but I am still in the fight," Ciel muttered as she regained her feet. She worked the breach of Distant Thunder, ejecting the cartridge that she had misfired; it landed with a thump on the ground beside her.

"Then we should take cover for a second," Rainbow growled, taking Ciel by the shoulder and giving her somewhat of a nudge, although Ciel hardly needed it. She and Rainbow retreated deeper into the woods, taking cover behind a pair of stout trees with long branches, putting the thick wood between them and Cicero as he unleashed a sonic attack into the forest biome, a high-pitched shriek that blew away an expanding cone of forest, shattering trunks, turning wood to chips and kindling, littering the forest floor — the floor of what had been a forest — with sawdust and letting the late afternoon sunlight shine down upon the ground. But the cone of destruction stopped before it reached them, though Ciel felt the dying soundwaves grasp at her black hair, lifting the tips of them up before they fell against her cheek, but it didn't damage her aura.

"How did you know?" Ciel asked, glancing at Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow grinned out of one side of her mouth. "One advantage of flying so high, I was level with the big screens; they showed you … in a bit of trouble."

"I am … obliged to you," Ciel said. "You saw her with your infrared vision?"

Rainbow nodded. "Only I've lost her now; she's gone into the trees, and I can't see her. She could have dropped her semblance for a little while, and I still wouldn't see her."

"On the other hand, that is probably why Cicero—"

"The Younger."

"—is not destroying more of the forest," Ciel said. "Speaking of whom." She braced Distant Thunder against her shoulder before turning and leaning out from behind the cover of her tree.

Cicero growled low at her, and the bass rumble seemed to be more controlled than the high shriek, because it didn't tear up the forest but, rather, flew toward Ciel in a single focussed beam.

Ciel fired, Distant Thunder roaring, but Cicero's shout turned the shot right back at her, and she would have been struck by round and sound if she hadn't scrambled back into cover — and to new cover, as Cicero changed the direction of his shout enough to destroy her tree.

"Okay," Rainbow said. "Here's what we do: I'll close the distance with my speed before he can react and punch his aura out; you stay close, then I'll find Lily."

"And I shall look helpless while all the glories of the victory accrue to you?" Ciel demanded. "No, not in this instance. In any other battle, yes, but not when there is nothing more at stake than our reputations."

"All right, do you have a better plan?"

Ciel thought for a moment. "Can you keep me covered while I relocate to the shipwreck biome? Once I am upon the ship's mast, then you take to the skies once more and resume your engagement with Cicero."

"And what about you?"

"I will be fine."

"Against an enemy you can't see?" Rainbow asked incredulously.

"I will be fine," Ciel repeated. "Trust me."

"Okay," Rainbow said. "If you think you can make it work, then let's make it work." She took a breath. "On three: one, two, go!"

Ciel ran, Distant Thunder rising and falling as she cradled it in her arms, darting between the trees, Rainbow Dash following with his back to Ciel, eyes peeled for any sign of Lily Cornelia.

There was no sign of her. She did not prevent Ciel from reaching the edge of the forest and out of it into the other biome. Rainbow halted there, on the edge of the woods, her wings, which had folded to allow her to move in the forest, unfurling once again.

Ciel splashed across the shallow water, getting the hem of her skirt a little wet as she reached the shipwrecked wooden sailing ship, a simple one-masted vessel of wooden planks that seemed to be built to evoke a much larger craft, one of the great Mantle galleons that had plied the seas between Solitas and Vacuo in days of old.

The ship was broken, a hole in its hull, the craft leaning at an angle, water filling it up and lapping at the deck; even the mast was at an angle, but it would serve nevertheless.

Ciel climbed up out of the water and onto the deck, and from there — concentrating her aura to her legs once again — leapt up onto the spar of the mast, where she retreated to the highest point on the spar, with the water beneath her and only a single avenue of approach.

She gave Rainbow Dash a thumbs up. Rainbow returned the gesture, with a grin for interest, and then took to the skies, ready to resume the contest with Cicero.

Who had, unfortunately, gained height himself by retreating to the gravity platforms.

But Ciel was sure that Rainbow could handle it. Her focus was on Lily.

Precognition on!

Ciel's semblance would not help her to spot Lily; it wouldn't make the invisible visible to her future sight. In that sense, it might not seem as though it was of much use to her.

But it did mean that Ciel spotted the ripples in the water caused by an invisible girl wading through the ocean to get to her before they happened, so when she aimed at where those rippled had been and pulled the trigger—

BANG!

The shot roared out of Distant Thunder and hit Lily as she was crossing the water. Ciel saw the splash as Lily, still invisible, was blown off her feet and into the water. She worked the breech — the cartridge dropping down to hit the wooden deck below — and fired again.

BANG!

She ejected the cartridge, hearing it strike the wooden boards beneath, even as her eyes swept the waters around her. She couldn't see any sign of Lily emerging from the water again.

Having been betrayed by the water, she will stay under it, but she must emerge at some point.

Somewhere concealed, where I will not notice it so easily.

Using the hull as cover.


Ciel looked to the prow, and then to the stern, where she saw the future echo of water dripping off an invisible form, falling across the wooden deck as though there was a raincloud being blown hard across the ship towards the mast.

BANG!

Ciel fired again, and a section of the deck collapsed as Lily was blasted down through the wooden planks into the recesses of the flooded ship.

"Lily Cornelia's aura has dropped below the limit!" Doctor Oobleck shouted. "She has been eliminated!"

Ciel closed her eyes, deactivating her semblance as the crowd — or parts of it, at least — went wild around her.

She opened her eyes again to see that, despite having gained height, Cicero was still faring poorly against Rainbow Dash, who was now keeping distance where height alone would not have sufficed. She was chipping away at Cicero's aura with the fire from her machine pistols, darting this way and that, out of range of his whip, avoiding his sonic attacks, soaring gracefully here and there and firing all the while as she did so.

Ciel was not sure what Cicero could yet do.

What he could do, as it turned out, was leap off the highest gravity platform, twisting in the air, and then unleash a low, deep sonic roar behind him, a focussed blast which bore him backwards, through the air, towards Rainbow Dash.

Of course, Rainbow could have avoided him. She could have flown out of the way and let Cicero fly right past her — although he could have tried to redirect.

But if she had done that, she would not really have been Rainbow Dash, and so, being Rainbow Dash, as Cicero rocketed himself towards her, she flew towards him.

She holstered her guns as she did so.

Cicero twisted in the air so that he was facing her. He lashed out with his whip.

Rainbow rolled, the whip flying out past her face without touching her.

She drew back her fist.

The boom as she hit Cicero in the face with a substantial chunk of her aura echoed across the arena.

Cicero was hurled backwards, his aura dropping rapidly as she flew past the gravity platforms and past the edge of the arena to hit the outer barrier that protected the spectators. He hung there for a moment, splayed out like a swatted fly, before he fell down towards the surface below.

"Cicero Ward the Younger has been ejected from the arena and is eliminated!" Doctor Oobleck shouted. "Rainbow Dash and Ciel Soleil win this match!"
 
Chapter 53 - Cowboy
Cowboy


Terri-Belle got to her feet. "Disappointing," she pronounced. "And all the more disappointing for being at the last." With the victories of Arslan Altan and Sun Wukong, Haven had appeared to be on a roll, only for the momentum to be lost in the last two matches.

"Three Beacon students, two from Haven, two from Atlas, one from Shade," Swift Foot said. "It's not bad, by any means."

"Are you saying that, like so many, I have once again raised my hopes too high?" Terri-Belle asked.

"No," Swift Foot said. "I'm just saying … it's not bad. Two out of eight. It's on the average. And if you count Pyrrha as one of ours, not one of theirs, then it's three of ours, so we're in the lead."

"The trouble is that if you start playing games like that, then Sun Wukong becomes a Vacuan, Weiss Schnee an Atlesian, Umber Gorgoneion becomes a Mistralian also—"

"Really?"

"I am fairly certain she is of the Kisthenian Gorgoneions," Terri-Belle said. "You've read the biographies of the contestants, what does it say?"

"About Umber Gorgoneion? Very little," Swift Foot said. "Only that she enjoys sculpting out of stone in her spare time and has a pet snake called Allecto. Nothing about her background, where she was born, anything of that sort. She's a complete cipher." She paused. "The Kisthenian Gorgoneions, does that mean … that would make her the sister to Lady Euryale and Lady Verde?"

"By her age, that would seem likely," Terri-Belle said.

Swift Foot frowned. "I didn't know they had a third sister."

Terri-Belle nodded. "Yes, she was … little seen."

"'Little seen'?" Swift Foot repeated. "What does that mean?"

"I scarcely know myself; I am not close to the family," Terri-Belle said. "All I know is that there is a third sister, a third daughter of Lady Gorgoneion, and that she is, or was, mostly hidden away out of the public eye. Illness, I believe."

"If that's her, then she doesn't look ill," Swift Foot pointed out. "And anyway, how and why would the sick and secluded daughter of Lady Gorgoneion end up as a student at Shade Academy?"

"Perhaps she was sick and tired of being secluded?" Terri-Belle suggested. "In any case, what I am saying is that if we judge the huntsmen and huntresses by their country of origin … well, I fear that we are speculating already as to who will go through to the final round."

"Pyrrha Nikos, Arslan Altan, Weiss Schnee, Nora Valkyrie, Rainbow Dash, Neptune Vasilias, Umber Gorgoneion … I don't know which of Flynt Coal or Neon Katt will be sent through."

"But you're so certain of the others?" Terri-Belle asked. "Why Neptune Vasilias?"

"Because he's a Mistralian of … a reasonable enough family, when one makes allowances for the fact that they're Argives," Swift Foot said. "Whereas Sun Wukong is a faunus from Vacuo."

"Reasoning which might make sense, if the team were led by a Mistralian," Terri-Belle replied. "But I'm not sure that Team Sun abides by our rules of … proper conduct."

"You think they'll send Sun Wukong through?"

"I don't know, and I don't really want to speculate for fear of looking foolish when I turn out to be mistaken," Terri-Belle said. "We will see tomorrow how things stand. All we know is that there will only be two Haven students among the eight."

"Two Haven students and Pyrrha Nikos," Swift Foot said.

Terri-Belle hesitated a moment before she said, "Yes, I suppose it is safe enough to venture that. Two Haven students, and Pyrrha Nikos."

XxXxX​

"That," pronounced Vice Principal Luna, "verged upon the perfunctory."

"I don't know; Miss Soleil was hard up against it for a moment," Principal Celestia replied. "Although Rainbow Dash never seemed to be in any real difficulty — which is to her credit, I think."

"To her credit and to Haven's discredit in equal measure," Luna said. "What is Leo teaching them?"

A mischievous smile crossed Celestia's pale features. "Why don't you ask him? I'm sure he'd be delighted to hear from you."

Luna pouted. "I shouldn't even dignify that with a response, but I will, to say that he would have no reason to welcome a word from me, not after all these years, and certainly not to rebuke his teaching style. In any case, not all his students did so poorly today; it may be that they were simply outclassed by their opponents."

"No doubt they were," Celestia said. She paused. "I know why you didn't, but there are times I wish you'd kept in touch with him."

"Really?"

"Is that so hard to believe?" asked Celestia. "I know you're … lonely, with only me to confide in, and there are times when I think Leo must be rather lonely too. Ozpin has Goodwitch, you have me … who does Leo have, marooned at Haven?"

"You might ask the same of James," Luna pointed out.

"James at least has the consolation of being well-beloved by his students, even if he cannot share the burden with them," Celestia said. "And James is not a faunus surrounded by … not a faunus in a rather traditionalist realm."

"You could just say 'racist,'" said Luna. "There is no Mistralian here to object."

"I suppose," Celestia said. "But you see my point?"

"I do," Luna acknowledged. "And yet, I am not sure a few words from me would solve anything." She let out a sigh. "The burdens that we carry, the burdens that Ozpin places on our shoulders, are heavy ones that cannot be so easily lifted by a few kind words." She looked at the television and the image of Rainbow Dash displayed upon it. "I hope they all appreciate this tournament for the respite that it is."

XxXxX​

"Booyah!" Leaf yelled, clapping her hands together. "And that's how it's done!"

"How would you know?" asked Veil.

"'Cause I've watched all these matches, obviously," said Leaf. "Although it was a bit disappointing that one of the two Haven students spent the whole match invisible so we couldn't see her."

"It's reality TV, not scripted," Veil observed. "Sometimes, I guess, that's just the way it is."

XxXxX​

"Woohoo," said Fluttershy softly from Cadance's box high up in the arena.

What Fluttershy lacked in volume, Pinkie more than made up for. "GO, RAINBOW DASH!" She shrieked, oblivious to the way that Applejack and Rarity were leaning away from her whilst covering their ears. "YEAH! WOO!"

"That was pretty straightforward, wasn't it?" Twilight said, turning to Blake.

"Cicero didn't have an adequate response to Rainbow's ability to fight from a distance," Blake replied, "and Ciel made the best use of the terrain."

"She got lucky with that," Applejack observed. "If it hadn't been for all that water—"

"I'm sure Ciel would have made it work somehow," Blake replied. "But yes, I agree, the battlefield did favour her a little."

"Ooh, you know what we should do?" Pinkie said. "We should all go out and celebrate, and Blake can bring Sun, and we can invite Flash, and do you think Weiss Schnee would like to come too?"

"'Weiss Schnee'?" Rarity repeated. "That would be splendid, but do you think she would?"

"I … I think Weiss would be happy too, especially with Flash," Twilight said. "But, um, you see—"

"Unfortunately, neither Rainbow or I, or Twilight, can make it," Blake said, cutting in. "We're busy tonight."

"'Busy'?" Rarity said. "Busy with what, darling?"

Blake and Twilight shared a glance; Twilight, for one, had no desire to lie to everyone, but it wasn't as though they could just tell them about Amber, could they? Well, they certainly couldn't tell them the whole truth about Amber.

Nevertheless, they had to say something. "We," she began, "we have to—"

"It's work," Blake said. "Team Sapphire have asked us to help them out with something."

"Every answer raises further questions," Rarity murmured.

"You get used to it," Sun remarked. "I don't get what they're up to, and I've been on one of their missions."

"And it don't bother you, not getting it?" asked Applejack.

Sun shrugged. "I trust Blake, and that means that I trust it's something important."

"But why are you getting missions during the Vytal Tournament?" asked Fluttershy.

"Perhaps I'm less trusting than Mister Wukong, but I'd like to know that too," remarked Cadance.

"Is it Professor Ozpin's niece?" asked Sun.

"Yes," Twilight said, relieved to have that part out there. "Yes, yes, that's it exactly. We're providing security for Professor Ozpin's niece at the carnival tonight."

"'Professor Ozpin's niece'?" Shining Armor repeated incredulously. "Two teams of huntsmen, plus Blake—"

"And Yang," Blake said softly.

"Two and a half teams for…" Shining Armor trailed off. "I don't want to accuse the Professor of anything, but I've got a hard time seeing how that's a valid use of resources. Cadance doesn't have that much security!"

"Which doesn't mean that she doesn't need protection," Lady Belladonna said. "But, by the same token, if she does need protection, then shouldn't that be provided by adults?"

"We're not children, Mom," Blake said. "We've seen more than some huntsmen twice our age."

"A fact which doesn't thrill me, believe me," said Lady Belladonna.

"And I love a party more than anyone," Pinkie said, "but if the Professor's niece is in danger, then why is she going to the carnival?"

"Because, just because she's in danger doesn't mean that she should have to live her life in a box, does it?" Twilight asked.

Pinkie nodded. "That's a good point."

Cadance's blue eyes were narrow. "I take it that General Ironwood is aware of all this?"

"Yes, ma'am, he is," Blake said, her voice even and her tone become more formal.

Cadance pursed her lips. "Twilight, what's your role in this?"

Twilight debated whether and how to tell Cadance and everyone else that she was the getaway driver. Since it was imperative and necessary to say something, she said, "I will be on the airship in case it's needed for extraction."

"The fact that you're not going to be in the line of fire is something, at least," Cadance said. She paused a moment. "I don't like this. I don't like the fact that there are things neither you or General Ironwood are saying. But I suppose, as Sun reminds us, we should trust that you — and General Ironwood — know what you're doing—"

"Should we?" asked Lady Belladonna.

Cadance chuckled. "Is there an alternative?"

Lady Belladonna shook her head. "No. No, I suppose there isn't. God knows that Blake never took well to attempts to tell her no, or wait, or it's not safe. So you're right; we will have to trust you."

"Until such time," Cadance added, "as the trust proves to be misplaced."

XxXxX​

The cheers of the crowd rang in Rainbow's ears as she flew across the battlefield to land upon the deck — the deck that was even more broken now than it had been when the battle started — of the shipwrecked vessel.

"So," she said, looking up at Ciel, who was still perched on the mast. "Using the water disturbance to track her movements? That was your plan?"

"'Her'? I am here, you know."

"Where?" Rainbow asked, looking around. "And how do you still have the aura to keep your semblance going?"

"Down here," Lily said grumpily, but then, considering that she'd just lost the match, she was probably allowed to be a little grumpy. A hand, a visible hand encased within a riding glove, appeared out of the hole that Ciel had blown in the ship's deck as Lily pulled herself up and onto the wooden planks. She grunted with effort as she rose to her feet. "For the record, you'd be surprised at how little demand my semblance places upon my aura."

"Yeah, I would," Rainbow replied. "You can turn invisible, fully and completely invisible, and it doesn't even burn through your aura to do it?"

"As has just been proven, it also doesn't make me invincible," Lily muttered.

"No," Rainbow allowed, "but if it's that good, why have you kept it to yourself all this time? We couldn't find out what your semblance was."

"I haven't needed it until now," Lily explained. "I've been saving it for the right moment."

Ciel leaped down off the mast, landing with a heavy thud upon the wooden boards. "Some might say," she said, "that having saved it so long, the right moment might be more…"

"Important?" Lily suggested. "You're implying I wasted it in a tournament match, aren't you?"

Ciel hesitated. "I would not wish to—"

"Well, you did," Lily told her. "And I would see your point, except the grimm don't watch TV. Not that it works as well on grimm as it does on people, since they can still sense my emotions, but it kind of works, and bandits don't watch TV either. At least, I hope they don't. Nobody who I might be going up against in future is going to be better off because they saw me use my semblance in this match."

It would be great if that was true, Rainbow thought. Does Salem watch TV? Does anyone who works for her?

"Anyway," Lily went on, "when I found out what we were up against, it was clear that I was going to have to pull out all the stops, or you'd just end up taking me out from a distance before I could get close enough to respond." She paused. "I mean it didn't work, but not using it wouldn't have worked out either." She shook her head. "When you retreated to the ship, I knew what you were trying to do, but I thought I could move fast enough that you still wouldn't be able to hit me. But I forgot about your semblance, didn't I?"

"It was a valiant effort," Ciel told her. "I was in real difficulty after you surprised me in the forest." She held out her hand. "Well fought."

Lily slapped her hand into Ciel's, then shook it vigorously. "Well won," she said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd better go clean Cicero up off the floor. His father is going to be insufferable about this. He already thinks that we don't work hard enough." She paused. "And it would have been nice to have had more finalists than you Atlas lot for once. But, as the gods and fate decree, I guess." She nodded in Rainbow's direction before she turned away, jumping off the ship and down into the water.

Rainbow could hear the splashing sounds as she waded through the sea before she climbed out onto the shore.

"That was a pretty good plan of yours," Rainbow informed Ciel. "I'm guessing that you chose to stand up on the spar like that so that there was only one place she could be standing if she got up there with you. You could just fire down the spar and be sure to hit her?"

"In the last resort, yes," Ciel said.

Rainbow nodded. "And you came up with that on the fly?"

Ciel smiled slightly. "Is that not something laudable?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely," Rainbow agreed. She stopped talking for a second, letting them both listen to the cheering crowd, all those people crying out at how well they'd done, how much they'd enjoyed seeing them do it, how much fun they'd had.

Cheering out their approval and affection and acclaim for Rainbow Dash and Ciel Soleil.

"So how does it feel," she asked, "knowing that that's for us? How does it feel to win? How does it feel to be…" She swept one around out across the arena. "How does it feel to be a poor girl from Mantle and stand here and listen to this?"

"How does it feel to be a faunus from Low Town?" Ciel responded.

Rainbow didn't reply right away. She took another moment, a couple more moments, to listen, to just drink the whole thing in, to let it fall on all her ears.

It wasn't, like, the best sound ever, it wasn't the best thing that she'd ever heard or that would ever happen to her, let's not go nuts or anything, but … she kind of wished that her parents could hear it.

I should have asked Scootaloo to record it for me.

"It's great," she said. "It's incredible, it makes me feel small. But … at the same time…"

"The relative insignificance of all of this circus means that it does not fill one up," Ciel replied. "Fast food, not a nourishing meal."

Rainbow looked at her. "You too, huh?"

"Many people have made sacrifices for my sake," Ciel said. "For my being here."

"And it would be great to say 'this proves that everything they did was worth it,'" Rainbow added. "Only … it doesn't."

"As you say," Ciel replied.

"But we will," Rainbow insisted. "We have done, already; and in the meantime … this isn't nothing. This is … it's pretty cool, if nothing else, and I bet it's pretty cool for your family watching too, and for my friends, and Blake, and … so let's enjoy it, huh? Because you have to agree, it's kind of awesome."

Ciel smiled. "Indeed," she said softly. "It is … rather marvellous, to have come so far."

"And that concludes today's exciting matches!" Professor Port declared, his voice booming out across the arena, and into the homes of everyone watching. "Tomorrow, eight brave huntsmen and huntresses will go forward and compete in the one-on-one round until only a single champion remains. Now, you may be expecting that we will introduce those eight huntsmen and huntresses tonight, but you would be wrong! Amongst the qualities expected of a true huntsman is the ability to rise to the occasion even in the face of the unexpected. And so, not only will our final eight competitors not be introduced until shortly before the battles begin, but each round will be randomly determined immediately before the match! There will be zero time to prepare!"

"Who will compete?" Doctor Oobleck asked. "Who will they face? And who will emerge victorious in all battles to snatch the crown of victory? All these questions will only be answered tomorrow, here in the arena and broadcast live on major television networks!"

XxXxX​

It was not long afterwards that Sunset and Rainbow Dash stood in Professor Ozpin's office.

The headmaster stood behind his desk, the better both to be seen by the two team leaders but also to see the hologram that was being projected over said desk by Sunset's scroll.

The hologram displayed, in transparent shapes and lines of light blue, a view of the centre of Vale, or at least of a part of it, the part down which the carnival would … progress, after a fashion, although it didn't move like a parade but sort of ambled along in a great mass, like a snake that vaguely meant to go somewhere but would be just as happy staying where it was, perhaps rolling over for a little while.

In any case, the hologram showed a view of the centre of Vale, an area marked by an abundance of tall buildings looming over the main road on both sides in a mixture of old-fashioned designs, columns for some, buttresses and gargoyles for others, and hypermodern architecture of steel and glass. As per the plan that Sunset and Rainbow had come up with, all those vantage points ought to be more help to them than hindrance.

A red line ran down the main street, which was at times called the Kingsway, at other times the High Street, at times called Main Street, and sometimes called Broadway, depending on where you were and whether you'd passed through certain squares or not because they couldn't just pick a name and stick with it, could they?

Coloured dots — red, yellow, orange, blue, green, all the colours of the rainbow — were placed upon the hologram, indicating the positions of various members of the combined force.

Professor Goodwitch stood by the right hand side of Professor Ozpin's desk, while General Ironwood stood upon the left, both of them looking down upon the hologram, even as Professor Ozpin did.

Professor Ozpin stared at the hologram, as if he might discern the plan without Sunset or Rainbow having to say a thing to him about it. At length, or after what seemed like a length, although the gears of the clock had not ground on too much, he raised his head and looked at them.

"Please," he said, "explain."

Sunset was the first to take a step forward. "The carnival moves, after a fashion, down this main road indicated in red, which goes by several names but which we will call the Kingsway because that's what it's called when it starts—"

"I would prefer it if you called it Broadway, Miss Shimmer, or Main Street," Professor Ozpin interrupted her. "The Kingsway is … rather a vanity that should have been left in the past."

Sunset blinked rapidly. "Um, ahem, very well, Professor, as you wish." She gestured down the red line, her hand and fingers passing through some of the holographic buildings. "The carnival moves down Broadway, beginning at Saint Mary's Place and ending at Old Forest Park, although Amber won't join the carnival until it passes the skydock, here." She pointed towards it. "We can't say for sure how far she'll get from that position, because once you're part of the carnival, you can be as fast or slow as you like, crowd permitting. She might just hang around outside the skydock all night dancing with Dove until the music stops." She paused for a moment. "Amber will be accompanied not only by Dove but by myself, Pyrrha, Jaune, and Penny, all in close proximity. We'll provide close protection to Amber, as indicated." She pointed to a cluster of five dots near the holographic skydock. One of them was amber, and one was white; they were Amber and Dove — the reason it was white instead of brown was that they'd found that dark colours were harder to see on the hologram. Deployed around the two of them were four more dots: red for Pyrrha, yellow for Jaune, orange for Sunset, and green for Penny, all placed protectively around Amber and Dove.

"That may be difficult in a crowd," General Ironwood observed. "How can you be sure that you can keep people away from Amber?"

"So long as we stay close to her, sir, then we should be able to make sure that no one does her harm," Sunset replied. "Everyone wants to stay close by their friends, so nobody should find it odd if we hold on to Amber or shove people aside who try to come between us. Anyone would do the same for their nervous friend who was experiencing the big city for the first time; no one will think anything of it."

"Even so," General Ironwood said, "it will be hard to see an attack coming."

"That's where the rest of us come in, sir," Rainbow said, and now, she, too, took a step forward, pointing to the purple dot some distance in advance of the others; Blake was purple instead of black for the same reason that Dove was white instead of brown — the brighter colour showed up better on the hologram. "That's Blake; she's going to be the vanguard of this operation, moving ahead of Amber and Dove to try and spot trouble before it reaches them. She'll continually double back towards Amber before moving out again, sweeping back and forth for any danger."

"And if the danger ambushes Miss Belladonna?" Professor Goodwitch asked. "Your plan puts her alone, unsupported."

"And if anyone tries to mess with Blake because they think being alone makes her an easy target, they'll soon regret it, Professor," Rainbow replied.

Professor Goodwitch looked down at Rainbow from over the top of her spectacles. "Bravado, Miss Dash, is hardly a substitute for proper planning."

"It's not bravado, Professor," Rainbow replied. "Yes, I have faith in Blake, but I also have an assessment of her skills and capabilities that I believe to be accurate. I wouldn't have put her in this position if I didn't think she could handle herself, and I think that she is the best person for this post. Penny is too inexperienced to know what to look for, Jaune would be at risk by himself, Sunset and Pyrrha are not only two of the people best able to protect Amber but also two of the people that Amber trusts most, so having them close by will be a comfort to her. Plus, unlike anyone else, Blake has lived in the shadows and fought in them; if anyone can spot danger lurking there, it's her."

"I find there is some sense in what Miss Dash says," Professor Ozpin said. "The fact is, these children know one another far better than we know them at this point, for all that we are their teachers. Miss Shimmer, Miss Dash, please continue."

"Thank you, Professor," Sunset said. She pointed to the red dot on one of the roofs of the tall buildings overlooking the street. "Ruby will be providing close cover from directly overhead, moving to keep pace with Amber and the rest of us down below."

"Meanwhile, Ciel will be stationed up here, at the top of Frakes' Folly," Rainbow said, pointing to the blue dot on top of a particularly tall holographic tower that loomed above the park at the end of the carnival route and all the buildings around it. It was at least twice as high as the other buildings in the vicinity, built in the old-fashioned gargoyles-and-buttresses style, as though it were the last remnant of some grand old fortress that had once dominated the surrounding countryside.

Unfortunately, the whole thing was only built after the Great War.

"From the top of that tower," Rainbow went on, "she can see right down the road and keep an eye on Amber without needing to change position."

"Are you suggesting that Soleil should start firing Distant Thunder into a crowd of people?" General Ironwood asked, more mildly than the question might suggest.

"No, sir; she's already put in a requisition for an ASR-37F for the night," Rainbow replied. "She'll have Distant Thunder with her, but the sniper rifle will be her primary weapon."

General Ironwood nodded silently.

"I'll be on the other side of the street from Ruby, based on top of the Liver Building here," Rainbow said, pointing to the other blue dot on the map, to a smaller tower midway down Broadway. "From there, I'll be able to observe everything going on down below and maintain communications with the rest of the team, so I'll be exercising control of the operation."

"Not you, Miss Shimmer?" Professor Ozpin asked.

"I won't be able to get such a clear view of what's going on from down on the street with Amber," Sunset said, "but at the same time, it's best if I stay close to Amber's side just in case."

"I'm sure that Dash will be more than capable of commanding this operation," General Ironwood said. "Assuming that the overall plan is approved."

There was a moment of quiet, as the clock ground on inexorably above them.

"And if Amber comes under attack?" Professor Goodwitch asked. "Or if Miss Belladonna encounters any danger, or—?"

"In the event that Blake, Ruby, or Ciel spot something that doesn't feel right, they'll report it to me, and I will assess the situation," Rainbow said. "If I decide that the situation warrants it, or if Amber or any member of the team comes under attack, I will give the abort order. When I do, one of the following will happen: if Blake is under attack, then Ruby and Ciel will provide fire support," Rainbow's hand clenched into a fist; Sunset suspected that it was taking some effort for her not to add 'and I'll swoop in to back her up.' "If Amber comes under attack, Blake will move back to reinforce the main group protecting Amber and Dove, while Ciel and Ruby provide fire support. If a credible threat has been identified without engagement, then it will be kept under observation."

"Whatever the case," Sunset said, "my group will move Amber northwards, off Broadway. Yang will be waiting on Ironmonger's Way with her motorcycle," — she pointed to the yellow dot on the hologram — "and once Rainbow issues the abort, she'll move in on her bike to rendezvous with us and pick Amber up."

"She will then drive Amber to Aris Crescent, covered by me from the air," Rainbow said. "We've identified Aris Crescent as the nearest place big enough to land a Skyray, so that's where Twilight will pick Amber up and fly her, Yang, and myself up to the Valiant where she'll be safe."

Again, there was, if not silence, then at least quiet; none of the professors said anything.

Professor Goodwitch folded her arms. "The extraction element is the weak link," she pronounced. "You may not be able to get Amber to safety whilst under attack."

"That's why I'm there, Professor," Sunset said. "If necessary, I'll hold the attack off while Pyrrha leads the others in getting Amber out of there."

"Some might call that overconfident, Miss Shimmer."

"I'd rather call it 'I wouldn't ask anyone else to do that in my place,' Professor," Sunset said. "And I hope it won't be necessary."

"We all hope that, Miss Shimmer," Professor Ozpin said. "We all hope that Amber will have nothing more than a wonderful evening." He paused. "Nevertheless, Professor Goodwitch is correct; it is the potential weakness of your plan."

"It's a difficult situation," Rainbow said.

"Perhaps an argument for keeping Amber at home," Professor Goodwitch observed.

"With the main road shut down for the carnival, traffic on the approach roads is likely to be light," Rainbow said. "Yang shouldn't be held up."

"But if a fight breaks out, then people will likely panic," Professor Goodwitch said. "How will you move Amber through a crowd of confused people trying to run?"

"That's why we'd rather spot trouble in advance, with Blake," Sunset said. "But if need be, we'll just have to force our way through however we can."

Professor Goodwitch frowned. "Professor Ozpin, I acknowledge they have done the best they could, but this whole notion puts not only Amber but innocent lives in danger. If Cinder is in Vale—"

"Then she doesn't know that Amber is, Professor," Sunset pointed out.

"Be that as it may, Miss Shimmer," Professor Goodwitch replied, "it is a great risk."

"And yet the alternative is to cage Amber already," Professor Ozpin murmured.

Professor Goodwitch bit her lip for a moment. "It is unfortunate, but it is her fate. The fate of all Maidens."

"A fate I bestowed upon her," Professor Ozpin said. "A destiny that she cannot escape because of me. If this is her last taste of liberty, then … let her drink from it." He looked into Sunset's eyes. "You have done well, Miss Shimmer, and you, Miss Dash; this is well thought out. You may go now and tell Amber the good news."

Sunset smiled and bowed halfway from the waist. "At once, Professor, and thank you."

The holographic image of Vale vanished from above Professor Ozpin's desk as Sunset picked up her scroll, putting it in her jacket pocket as she and Rainbow Dash both walked back to the elevator at the far end of the room.

Soon enough, they were on their way down to the base of the tower.

"That went okay, I thought," Sunset said. "I mean, we got what we wanted."

"Professor Goodwitch could have had a little more faith in Blake," Rainbow muttered.

"As if it isn't killing you that you don't get to back her up as soon as she gets into trouble," Sunset muttered.

"That … that's different," Rainbow replied. "That's … just because I don't like the idea of leaving Blake in the lurch doesn't mean that I don't think she can handle herself. I know she can handle herself; I just don't really like the fact that I have to stand on top of a tower while she fights."

"That's command, I suppose," Sunset replied.

Rainbow wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Yeah," she said. "If you could, would you switch places with me?"

"I can't," Sunset said.

"I know you can't," Rainbow said, "but if you could. If you didn't have to be down there for Amber, would you be willing to be the one on top, making all the decisions?"

"While Jaune and Pyrrha were down there, on the ground?" Sunset asked. She shook her head. "No. No, I wouldn't switch with you."

"I didn't think so," Rainbow said.

They were silent for a few seconds, with only the gentle humming of the lift to disturb them as it bore them downwards.

"I'm a little surprised that Amber still wants to go through with this," Rainbow said. "I mean … if I knew Cinder had just killed somebody in Vale, I wouldn't go down there for a party. Well, maybe I would, but I can take care of myself; Amber—"

"Knows how to fight; she just doesn't want to," Sunset replied. "She really doesn't want to. So what are you saying, that she ought to cower in fear of Cinder?"

"It's not cowardice," Rainbow insisted. "It's … some risks aren't worth taking."

"I'm glad you didn't say that to Professor Ozpin," Sunset said.

"Hey, we agreed to come up with a plan, and we presented the plan," Rainbow replied. "Doesn't mean that I understand what Amber's thinking."

"Amber is thinking that, tomorrow night, she's going to get bundled off to Ruby's house in the sticks, and from there, she'll get bundled off again to some miserable lonely place, and that this might be her last chance to have a little fun," Sunset said. "I know … I know that it's for her own protection, but that doesn't mean … I don't like it. I don't really like anything about this. I still trust Professor Ozpin, I think he's trying to do the right thing, but everything about this … sticks in my craw; I can see why Pyrrha's tolerance has snapped."

"When you told us about the Maidens," Rainbow said, "I thought that hiding them was a bad choice. I thought that you could defend them better by putting them under heavy guard, a guard who knew what they were guarding and how important. Which is us, I guess, so we're actually putting my theories into practice." She paused. "But … I'm not sure that Amber would enjoy life on a cruiser, or in a fortress, to be much more fun than life in a hiding place."

"They're both prisons, of sorts," Sunset said.

"Pretty sure they're not," Rainbow replied.

"She can't leave, can she?" Sunset asked.

"Okay, that sounds very clever, but I'm pretty sure most prisons don't let you out to go to the carnival," Rainbow pointed out.

"That … is also a good point," Sunset admitted. "But even so … you're right. I'm not sure there's a scenario in which Amber's life is wholly pleasant for her. Certainly, it's not the life she would have chosen."

"We don't always get to choose how our lives turn out," Rainbow said. "Sometimes … sometimes, the only choice we get is whether we're going to make the best out of the hand that we've been dealt. At least she has Dove with her, or she will have. So she won't be completely alone."

"No," Sunset agreed. "No, that's the silver lining to all of this." She hesitated. "Do you … do you think that's enough? That they love one another, that they have one another … is that enough? Is that all it takes, having the person you love beside you?"

"Why are you asking me something like that?" Rainbow asked.

Sunset looked at her for a second. "I don't know, really," she admitted, a touch of laughter in her voice. "Because you brought it up, I suppose."

Rainbow snorted. "Do you want to know what I think?"

"Only if what you think is comforting," Sunset said.

"Right," Rainbow muttered. "Okay then."

She did not tell Sunset what she thought.

Instead, she said, "So … Phoebe was Cinder's stepsister all along, huh?"

"Yes," Sunset said, and left it at that.

"And you knew?"

Sunset did not look at Rainbow Dash. "Yes," she said. "I knew."

Rainbow was silent for a moment. "And she — Phoebe, I mean — she … she made Cinder this?"

"She didn't make her a servant of Salem; I still don't know that part of the puzzle," Sunset admitted. "But yes, she made her the sort of person who would do the things that Cinder has done. Someone angry at the world, someone hurting from their injuries. Someone who wants payback."

"She's got that now," Rainbow replied. "I suppose it's too much to say that she'll stop."

"I wish she would," Sunset said. "But I fear not."

"No," Rainbow murmured. She was silent for a second, and then for a second more. "I never … it makes me think … I wish it didn't, but…"

"What does it make you think of?" asked Sunset.

"It makes me wonder if there could be others like her," Rainbow said. "Hiding their villainy behind the white. I wish I didn't, I wish I could trust everyone who wears this uniform, but if Phoebe could be a monster and nobody could see it, then … could there be others?"

"It's possible, I suppose," Sunset replied. "Although I can't think of any off the top of my head. Is there anyone you suspect?"

"No," Rainbow replied. "But … maybe I might, in the right — or wrong — circumstances."

The elevator came to a stop, and they both walked out as soon as the doors opened. The lobby of the CCT was not quite empty — there were a few people coming in to make late afternoon calls to distant kingdoms — but it was very quiet, and nobody got in their way as they headed out onto the grounds of the school.

The grounds were not so quiet, with people following the path towards the docking pads; the fairgrounds held no more delights for them today, and they wanted to go home. Of course, not everyone was leaving right away, and there were still a fair number of people in and around the fairgrounds as Rainbow and Sunset went in search of Amber.

They found her, and everyone else — Pyrrha, Ruby, Dove, Penny, Yang, Ciel — gathered around a fenced-off paddock, watching Jaune not get thrown off a horse.

The horse — a white one, dappled with patches of brown — was trying very hard to throw him off, bucking wildly, kicking with its hind legs, sometimes leaping up into the air with all four legs off the ground, tossing and stamping, doing everything that it could, but Jaune was hanging on in there.

In fact, he didn't even look as though he was having to try very hard to do it. In fact, as far as Sunset could make out as she and Rainbow approached, he was smiling, and even able to free one hand to wave to the crowd, who responded by cheering his gallant efforts.

Rainbow folded her arms. "You know, he's not bad."

"'Not bad'?" Sunset repeated. "He looks pretty good to me."

"I've seen Applejack do that bareback on a bull, that's good," Rainbow declared. "But Jaune isn't bad."

"No, he certainly isn't," Sunset said. "I suppose I should have known that someone who would do what he did to get into Beacon would have a stubborn streak."

As they got close to the paddock and their friends, Sunset walked up to Pyrrha, who was standing on the right-hand side of the group, and leaned upon the metal barrier.

"Did you know he could ride a horse?" Sunset asked.

"No," Pyrrha said. "But he's very impressive, isn't he?"

Sunset watched Jaune for another couple of seconds, clinging on to the horse with a practised ease. "He certainly is," she said. "Where did he learn to do that? At home?"

"Apparently," Pyrrha said. "He's making me wish that I knew how to ride horses."

Sunset smiled. "So that you could go on romantic rides together?"

Pyrrha's cheeks flushed a little. "I'm afraid so, yes," she murmured.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of," Sunset said. "I think it sounds pretty cute."

"Jaune isn't the only one who knows how to ride!" Penny declared. "You missed Amber showing us her barrel weaving! She was so quick and agile."

"I'm not that good," Amber murmured. She looked from Sunset to Rainbow Dash and then back to Sunset again. "So … what did Ozpin say?"

"He said we're okay to go," Sunset replied. "If … if you still want to. I mean … it could be … if you don't feel like it, if you'd rather not, if you're—"

"Scared?" Amber suggested.

"No one would blame you if you were, in the circumstances," Sunset said.

Amber smiled and walked around behind Ruby and Pyrrha to approach Sunset. "But I'm not afraid," she said, "not anymore. I'm not afraid because … well, because I'm with all of you." She smiled. "I feel safe with you. Safer than I've felt since … for a long time."

"Well, that," Sunset scratched the back of her head with one hand. "That is both very sweet of you to say and puts a great burden of expectations on our shoulders. But, if that's how you feel, then as soon as we've rounded everyone up and you're ready to go, we can leave."

XxXxX​

Emerald watched them go, watched them climb aboard one of the skyliners ferrying people down from Beacon into Vale.

And they hadn't been shy of making known where they were going either. They would stand out in their huntsman and huntress outfits — ironically, since some of them looked a lot like costumes, Pyrrha — which would make them easy to find.

The number of them around Amber, and the quality as well, was a little concerning; Ozpin wasn't being completely careless with Amber's security. Emerald had observed that she was never alone, there was always someone — Yang, Pyrrha, Ruby, Penny — close at hand to ensure her safety, and that was even more pronounced now, when the whole gang was there.

When considering the numbers, and the quality of those like Pyrrha and Sunset, Emerald considered simply not mentioning Amber's trip into Vale to Cinder. Let Cinder remain ignorant of it, let her stay away from Amber and from all the weapons gathered for her defence.

But she couldn't do that. Cinder would not want her to do that. Either she would damn the odds and attack anyway, or she would be cautious and sensible and do what Emerald would rather she do, but either way, it would be her choice.

Hers, not Emerald's.

Emerald could not deny her this, even though … though she couldn't see that it would lead anywhere but further sorrow, nevertheless, Emerald could not deny this to Cinder. She could think Cinder was going in the wrong direction, she could advise and plead, but she couldn't decide for her. Only Cinder could do that.

Emerald got out her scroll.
 
Chapter 54 - Rising Sun
Rising Sun


Neptune whistled. "Imagine being able to get the Amity Colosseum for a private event?"

"I mean, you make it sound like she's throwing a party up here, dude," Sun said. "Although now that I've said it, I'm kinda surprised that they don't do that."

"They do," Neptune said. "It's the tournament afterparty. How did you not know that?"

"Because I grew up without TV, and nobody told me anything about this," Sun replied. "You're lucky I even know what the Vytal Festival is."

The two of them were stood in the tunnel, the same tunnel in which they had stood that same day, together, preparing to go out and fight their two on two match.

Things were a little bit different now. It was dark, for one thing, with night having fallen outside. It made the tunnel darker than it had been when they had been waiting before, without the sunlight coming into the corridor from outside. The only light now came from the floodlights around the edge of the battlefield itself, and they were all pointed inwards, towards where the contestants would be — if there were any contestants — and they didn't send a whole lot of light in the direction of Sun and Neptune.

There were lights in the tunnel itself, but they weren't that bright, and anyway, Sun preferred sunlight to artificial lights; it just wasn't quite the same to him. They were too cold, for one thing.

The other big difference was how quiet it was. Back then, earlier today, the arena had been full of people, more people than Sun had ever seen before in his life; the stadium had been heaving with them. They'd been packed in tighter than the popcorn was stuffed into the cardboard tubs that they were selling it in — and that was saying something, because those tubs could hold a lot of popcorn — and all of those people, all of that huge number of people like Sun had never seen before, they had all been making noise like…

Well, like Sun had never heard before either.

When Sun had first come to Mistral, he had thought that it was huge; it was huge, it was so much larger than Vacuo City; even the most packed location in downtown Vacuo had nothing on any market in Mistral. And he had thought that Mistral was loud too, as loud as it could possibly get, with so many people crammed together in one place making noise.

And then this tournament had begun, at which point, Sun had realised that he hadn't seen anything yet.

Those crowds sure knew how to raise the roof.

Not that the Amity Colosseum had a roof, but, you know.

The point was, they were loud. This tournament had been loud. It was a good thing that some of the crowds out there making the noise were cheering for him, or it might have been a little intimidating.

But now, the crowds were silent.

The crowds, in fact, weren't even there at all, so it was the arena which was silent.

Because there was no one there.

Which was a big change from earlier today. It was … kind of weird. Just Sun and Neptune, waiting in that tunnel, in the dark, with no sound outside. No one singing that Mistralian song, no one cheering, no one yelling.

No sound at all but what they made.

Yeah, a little odd, after the last couple of days.

But, at the same time, like Neptune had said, it was kind of impressive that Councillor Cadenza had been able to pull this off.

"Must be nice being an Atlesian Councillor," Sun said.

Neptune nodded. "Must be nice being any kind of Councillor."

"Nah, being a Vacuan Councillor kind of sucks," Sun said. "Nobody takes any notice of anything you say, and everyone knows that the headmaster of Shade is the guy who's really in charge."

"Really?" Neptune asked.

"Yeah, really," Sun said. "I mean, there's no police, there's no military, there's no … nothing. There's nothing but huntsmen, and they can't even fire the headmaster."

"Yeah, you're right, that does suck for them," Neptune muttered. "Sounds like barbarism to me."

"It would to a Mistralian, sure," Sun replied.

"Isn't it?" Neptune asked.

Sun thought about it for a moment. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, it pretty much is. Although Headmaster Theodore talked about sorting things out a bit. Not sorting things out so much that he wouldn't be in charge anymore, but sorting them out. Making things a bit more—"

"Civilised?" suggested Neptune.

"Normal," Sun said.

"I can see why you didn't want to go to Shade," Neptune said. "Who does want to go to Shade? How do they have any students?"

"So," Sun said, "you know how you told me that rich Mistralian aristos who don't like their own kingdom enough go to Atlas because they think it's everything that Mistral isn't?"

"Because they think that it's organised and disciplined and people there still have some respect for authority and breeding," Neptune confirmed.

"Right, yeah, that," Sun said. "Well, Atlesians who don't like their kingdom go to Shade because they think Vacuo will be everything that Atlas isn't: wild and free with nobody to tell them what to do."

Neptune was silent for a moment, looking upwards a little bit as though he was thinking over what Sun had just said. "So … if the Mistralians are going to Atlas, and the Atlesians are going to Shade, doesn't that mean that you should have gone to Beacon with a bunch of other Vacuans?"

It took Sun a moment to work out what he was talking about. "You mean … and the Valish would go to Haven?"

"Round and round in a great big circle," Neptune said. He folded his arms. "But talking about you going to Atlas—"

"We weren't—"

"Yeah, but let's talk about it anyway," Neptune said. "Are you sure you wanna do this?"

"Do I wanna go out there and fight this guy, or do I wanna move to Mantle?"

"Both," Neptune said, "but you could lose the fight — in fact, you probably will lose the fight —"

"Hey!" Sun protested.

"What?" Neptune asked. "No offence, but you're up against a qualified huntsman, a guy who won the Vytal Tournament in his year—"

"And a guy who's been guarding a door in Atlas for years since," Sun pointed out.

"Okay, sure, maybe he'll be rusty," Neptune granted. He hesitated for a second. "Do you really wanna do this?" He scratched the back of his head with one hand. "I mean, dude, I know she's hot—"

"Blake is not hot; she's gorgeous."

Neptune frowned. "What's the difference?"

"I don't know," Sun said, "But there is one. Calling her hot feels, I dunno, kind of … I can't explain it; it just doesn't feel right, you know?"

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

"Well, I know, even if I can't explain it to you," Sun said. "But, anyway, the point is that it's not about that."

Neptune's eyebrows rose sceptically.

"Okay, it's not just about that," Sun said.

Neptune's eyebrows remained in their raised, sceptical position.

"It isn't!" Sun cried. "Yeah, it's some about that, but it's also … it's also about doing some good, you know? Doing some good for people who haven't had much good done to them, or many people to do good to them."

"And you can't wait another three years because—"

"Because bad stuff is happening all over now, and it's not waiting for us to graduate!" Sun cried. "Kidnappings, robberies, slavery, it's all going on right now, this instant, and if I wait around for three years, who knows how many people will get hurt in the meantime? People that I could have helped. And that's the point, really … say I waited and stayed at Haven until I graduated, then … Mistral has tons of people who can fight for it, and who will step up and fight for it when the time comes? You, Sage and Scarlet, I guess; Team Auburn, Team Jasmine — Pyrrha! Mistral has, or it's gonna have, or it has and is gonna have, a ton of heroes. Who does Mantle have right now?"

Neptune was quiet for a little bit. "All valid reasons," he said. "But also because of Blake, right?"

"Oh, totally, yeah," Sun agreed, nodding his head vigorously.

Neptune chuckled. "Well, I guess I can't blame you too much. But I will miss you, though. I can't believe you're leaving me with Scarlet."

Sun laughed. "You'll be fine. Hey, without me around, Scarlet might actually sweeten a little bit."

"I don't think Scarlet has any sweet in him," Neptune said. "He's as sour as grapefruit with no sugar. And you know how much I need sugar on those in the morning."

"Yeah, I know," Sun said. He hesitated. "I'm gonna miss you too, man." He grinned. "Hey, you could come with me! We could—"

"Thanks for the offer, dude, but from what I've heard about Mantle, it doesn't seem like my scene, at all," Neptune declared.

"Why, what's it like?"

Neptune's jaw dropped. "Seriously? Are you … are you kidding me right now?"

"What?"

"Wh—… sometimes, I think Scarlet might be right about you," Neptune muttered. "Have you not done any research, anything at all, about the place you're going to go and live in? You haven't even opened a book?"

"I know it's in rough shape; that's why I want to go there."

"'Rough shape' is putting it mildly," Neptune said. "I … I don't know, I'm not an expert, but you should probably try and become, maybe not an expert, but at least not an idiot about it in the next few days before you move there! Gods." He shook his head. "The point is that post-industrial derelict style is not my style." He grinned. "And besides, I'm not sure how your new Atlas friends would feel about two of us moving to Mantle to become vigilantes together. I think they're only tolerating you because they like Blake so much."

Sun thought about that for a second. "Yeah," he admitted. "Yeah, that's probably fair."

"Plus," Neptune went on. "You know that if I did decide to drop out of school and move to Mantle, my mom would absolutely flip her lid. Like, she would actually kill me."

"She wouldn't be able to reach you in Mantle."

"I wouldn't put it past her to hire the Iron Grenadiers to black bag me from Mantle back to Argus so that she could throw me into the harbour herself," Neptune said. "And that's nothing compared to what she'd do to you for talking me into it."

"Yeah, you should probably stay in school," Sun said. "Hey, listen, dude … I'm sorry that I wasn't a great team leader over the last year."

"You weren't around much for a lot of the last year," Neptune pointed out.

"So it was pretty much impossible for me to be a good team leader, wasn't it?" asked Sun. "All the same, I'm sorry. Lionheart should have chosen … well, you probably."

"Me?" Neptune said. "You…" He pointed at himself. "You think I should be team leader?"

"Yeah, sure, why not you?"

"Why me?" Neptune asked. "What about Scarlet?"

"Scarlet? No way," Sun said. "Scarlet wants it, sure, but that doesn't mean that he'd be any good at it. He might try, but … he'd follow you more easily than me, so you've got that going for you, Sage likes you, everyone likes you, you're like Yang that way, and that's why you'd make a good team leader."

"But…" Neptune trailed off. "Where would I even start?"

"How would I know?" asked Sun. "I was a terrible leader, remember?"

"Yeah," Neptune said. "Yeah, you were." He held out one hand. "But you were an okay friend. Now get out there and try to kick his butt."

Sun clasped Neptune's outstretched hand and arm, squeezing Neptune's wrist. "I'll do my best," he said. He pulled Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang — linked together in their combined staff form — off his back, and twirled it in his hand.

I mean, if I lose, I can still go to Mantle and be even more of a vigilante than I'll be if I win.

Or lose while still impressing the guy, I guess.

But I'll try and win, 'cause otherwise … why wouldn't I try and win?


He stepped out of the corridor and into the silent arena.

"Woohoo!" cheered Mrs. Belladonna. "Go, Sun!"

Sun turned and walked backwards towards the ring itself, thankful that the colosseum was not completely silent. "Thanks, Mrs. B!" he yelled out to her as he waved. "Or Lady B, sorry."

"Either's fine," Mrs. — or Lady — Belladonna called back to him. "Just focus and do your best, honey."

"Will do," Sun promised. It was really nice of her to come up here — or stay up here — and cheer for him. He kinda wished that Blake could have done the same, but she had to work tonight, protecting that Amber girl. Sun wasn't entirely clear on why Amber needed protecting, but Blake said it was important, so … it was important.

And maybe it was better this way. He'd be able to surprise her with the news of whatever happened up here tonight, rather than being distracted by her being up here watching him.

The arena was bare; there were none of the biomes that had risen up out of the arena to provide terrain to fight on during the day — of course, even during the day when he and Neptune had walked out here, the terrain hadn't been ready and waiting for them; it was just that, tonight, it wasn't going to come up either.

They were going to be fighting on the flat tonight, upon the white surface, with the symbols of the four academies on the floor and the metal struts criss-crossing it.

That was the surface that Sun walked across, his footsteps so light that they made no sound at all, adding to the quiet of the colosseum.

The air was crisp tonight, but he'd had colder nights by far back home. This was nothing at all.

He wondered briefly how a night in Solitas would compare to the desert cold of a Vacuo night. He probably should have asked Blake how cold it had gotten for her in Atlas.

Sun reached the hexagon in the centre of the arena, the same hexagon where he and Neptune had waited for their match to start today, with half the crowd cheering them on.

Unlike then, his opponent now wasn't here yet.

Yet.

A clanking thud echoed out of the tunnel on the other side of the arena, the tunnel that Sun could only just make out thanks to the lack of light. But he could hear the sound just fine; he could hear all the clanking footsteps coming, heavy footsteps, almost like a massive grimm but too metallic, pounding footsteps echoing out of the dark.

Until eventually they weren't coming out of the dark, and Sun could see what was making the noise. Shining Armor — because Sun could still see his head, which was bare — was wearing something that reminded Sun a little bit of Twilight's armour, only it was a lot bulkier and blockier and not at all sleek or rounded like the suit that his sister wore.

Still, it was armour, and fancy armour too. A lot of Haven students wore some kind of armour, but it was all the old-fashioned kind, metal or linen or metal and linen, like the kind their ancestors had worn since way back when, back before the Great War, back when Mistral was young. Shining Armor was wearing modern armour; he was wearing better than modern armour, armour that let out little whirring noises when he moved — Sun could only hear them now that he was getting closer — like the whole thing was powered.

It probably was.

The armour was blocky, with lots of square parts to it; the centre over his chest and stomach was segmented, so at least he could move his waist, but his shoulder pauldrons were big and boxy with what looked like little guns mounted on them, and the armour that completely covered his arms and hands was square too, with joints only at the elbows, until you got to the fingers, which were segmented again. The legs didn't even have that; it was like … honestly, it was like a kid wearing cardboard boxes and pretending to be a robot.

Only Sun, who would never say that out loud, thought that this armour was probably a little tougher than cardboard.

Also, cardboard boxes didn't have pipes like engine thrusters sticking out of the back of the legs — well, you could use toilet roll tubes for that if you really wanted to — and what he thought looked like more thrusters on his back, with two exhausts visible sticking up past his shoulders.

The armour was purple, with gold outlines surrounding each individual piece where it joined with another — gold around the knee where it met the two leg pieces, gold around the armour, gold around the shoulders, everywhere, there was gold surrounding purple. Sun was kind of glad that they were doing this at night; he might have been blinded otherwise. In the centre of the chest piece was a six-pointed lavender star on a shield, which Sun guessed was Shining Armor's emblem.

Shining Armor had a shield, a kite-shaped shield, resting on his left arm, while strapped to his right arm, there was a grey rifle that would have looked like a pretty normal Atlesian rifle — one of the ones with a scope — except that it was about as big as Ciel's rifle, and that was huge.

Also, from the way it was glowing, Sun guessed that this rifle shot lasers.

"Hey," Shining Armor greeted him. "Sorry to keep you waiting."

"Um … yeah," Sun murmured. "Is that … are you gonna … you're gonna wear that to fight?"

"I wouldn't have put it on otherwise," Shining Armor replied. "It's pretty neat, huh? Twily made it for me. I haven't had the chance to wear it in a while; I ought to thank you."

"You don't, uh, you don't think it's a little much?" Sun suggested.

"I want to see what you've got," Shining Armor said. "It wouldn't be much of a test if I went easy on you."

"I guess not," Sun agreed. "So … does this thing fly? Because I know that Twily—"

"Made Rainbow Dash's wings, yeah, she did," Shining Armor agreed, "but as you might have noticed, Sibling Supreme is a little bit heavier than the Wings of Harmony, so all I can really do is—" He stopped talking as his armour lifted about a foot off the ground, lifted up by jets coming out of the soles of his feet.

"That's pretty cool," Sun said. He paused. "Sibling Supreme, is that its name?"

"Yeah," Shining Armor replied. "Something wrong with that?"

"No," Sun said quickly. "No, no, nothing at all. That's a great name."

He stopped talking and tried to start thinking instead. That armour, even assuming that there weren't any other tricks in there like hard light shields or nothing, would combine with aura to make Shining Armor tough, strong, and probably fast as well. Sun's only hope was to, well, hope that it wasn't too manoeuvrable on top of all that. If he could stay in Shining Armor's blind spots, then maybe he could hammer him from the back and sides, use his semblance, just stay out of the guy's way.

It would have been easier if the biomes were active — some of them anyway — but never mind.

He'd have to do his best.

"Go for it, honey!" Cadance shouted.

"Take him down, Sun!" yelled Mrs. Belladonna.

Shining Armor grinned. "Nice to have at least one fan, right?"

"Kick his butt, dude!"

Sun grinned right back. "I think I've got one more than you tonight."

Shining Armor chuckled. "Yeah? Well, you're gonna need the support." He descended back down to the surface of the arena, landing with a thump upon the metal. His head disappeared from sight, concealed beneath a helmet that emerged with clanks and rattles out of the chest to cover up his head. The helmet, too, was square and blocky, with a pair of purple eyes blazing out of it and a pair of horns coming out of the sides like a bull.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice coming out kind of distorted compared to what it had sounded like before.

Sun twirled Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang in one hand. "I guess I am," he said.

"Okay then," Shining Armor said. "There's no commentator to count us in, so what's say we get started?"

"Sounds good to—" Sun was cut off as the rifle strapped to Shining Armor's arm detached itself, floating in the air for a second before Shining Armor grabbed it by the grip, lifted it up with one arm, and started shooting.

Blue laser beams — yep, called it — leapt from the barrel of the gun, forcing Sun to dive out of the way as the bolts zipped past him to slam into the shield surrounding the battlefield.

"You could have waited until I said I was ready!" Sun yelled as he dodged out of the way of Shining Armor's hard-light beams, the fire from the huge rifle tracking him as he jumped and rolled.

"Think of it as a test of your reactions," Shining Armor said as he kept on trailing Sun, turning in place, always keeping Sun under fire.

Worse, he sounded like he was having fun as he said it.

Sun gritted his teeth as he jumped out of the way of a couple of blue bolts, bolts which flew through the space where he'd been to slam into the shield behind him.

He didn't know whether Shining Armor was deliberately letting him dodge or whether he really couldn't hit him, but he also knew that he wasn't going to impress anyone by just not getting hit.

Probably not; he didn't know what Shining Armor's standards were like.

It wasn't a chance he was prepared to take.

But he might need to take a chance of a different kind.

Sun stopped running, clasping the first two fingers of both hands together above his chest — just below the point at which Shining Armor's bolt of hard light slammed into him like a hammer blow. Sun felt a tingling like a static charge, like rubbing a balloon against his hair then sticking it to his hand, running through his chest and all over his body, the vestige of the pain making itself felt through his aura as he was thrown backwards and onto his back on the ground.

He felt a prickling sensation everywhere, like his hand sometimes felt when he woke up having slept on it, but his aura was still up, so he didn't have a hole in his chest or nothing.

He lay still on the ground, because being still was the price for using his semblance.

There was a faint chiming sound as four clones, insubstantial but golden, shining in the darkness, burst out of Sun and scattered in different directions, breaking off to the left and the right, circling around the battlefield before charging towards Shining Armor.

Shining Armor shot at them, his rifle blazing, bolts erupting out of the barrel as he walked backwards over the metallic surface of the arena, retreating to open up more ground between himself and Sun's clones. Sun grinned a little bit as he directed his clones like a puppeteer directing his puppets, having them leap and roll out of the way just like he had leapt and rolled out of Shining Armor's fire, all the while closing the distance upon his opponent.

Shining Armor hit one of the clones anyway, in spite of Sun's dodging, making it dissolve into motes of light and making Sun wince in pain — he could feel a little bit of what the clones felt; it was the price he paid for being able to direct them like this — but before he could take any more shots at the others, they were right on top of him.

All three clones leapt upwards before descending down on Shining Armor with fists and legs drawn back to strike.

Shining Armor took cover, turning his body and bringing his shield up to protect himself.

Sun's clones hit the shield, and all of them exploded at once, bursting into blazing balls of light that engulfed Shining Armor — for all of a couple of seconds before Shining Armor burst out of the light, still holding his shield before him, gilding over the surface of the arena, levitating a couple of inches off the floor while using the thrusters on his back and legs to hurl him straight towards Sun.

Sun summoned two more clones — he still had time for that, just about — which threw themselves between Sun and Shining Armor, both of them grabbing at the Atlesian, trying to hold him backwards.

It didn't work, the two clones weren't strong enough, Sun could feel them being pushed back, just like he could see them being pushed back, like objects caught in a tide.

He summoned two more clones — he was kind of stretching himself here; he could feel his aura dropping like a rock — but hopefully, he wouldn't need to keep this up for very long. Those two more clones rushed to join their fellow clones and were just enough to slow Shining Armor down, bodily holding him back.

The fifth clone — Sun gritted his teeth and hoped that his aura didn't give out on him — burst out of Sun's body to rush straight towards Shining Armor, his movement slowed, held back by all the other clones.

The fifth clone launched himself at Shining Armor with a flying kick that struck the Atlesian squarely in the chest, knocking him backwards and off-balance — just as all five clones exploded all at once.

Sun breathed a sigh of relief as — finally able to move again — he sat up and saw Shining Armor tumble backwards towards the—

The thrusters on his back fired before he hit the ground, lifting him up and righting him, setting him down again on his feet with a solid thud.

A thud that sounded a lot like Sun's chances in this fight.

"Oh, come on," Sun protested.

Shining Armor didn't reply, he just let his shield drop from his arm — it hit the floor heavily, landing upon the Haven Academy symbol where it was painted on the surface — as his rifle transformed in his hands into a giant two-handed sword, as big as Shining Armor himself or maybe even a little bigger, single-edged, with that edge being a beam of hard-light.

Kind of overkill, don't you think?

Shining Armor's rockets launched him up into the air, maybe only a few feet up but enough that he could drop down again right on top of Sun, his enormous sword hefted up.

Sun remained where he lay as the sword swept down, but he brought his staff up to take the blow, the soft blue beam clashing with the bright red staff as Shining Armor landed, straddling Sun, his impact making the floor under Sun tremble.

Sun grunted, the muscles on his arms standing out, his veins bulging under his skin — if only Blake could see this, huh? — as he struggled to hold back Shining Armor's sword. Dude was strong. Or maybe that was just the armour. Or it was a little bit of both.

Either way, it was taking a lot out of Sun to hold him off. In fact, he wasn't really holding him off, his arms were giving way, they were starting to shake, his elbows were bending; Shining Armor's sword was getting closer to his chest.

Sun lifted up his legs and lashed out sideways with them both, a scissoring kick aimed at the back of Shining Armor's left knee, coming in just over the top of his thrusters. It didn't cut Shining Armor's leg out from under him, but it did bend his knee, made it jerk forwards and off to the side a little.

Made his sword break off for a second.

Sun launched himself through the gap in Shining Armor's legs, passing between them and spinning around as he passed so that he was looking up at Shining Armor's back, able to see all the rockets attached.

Able to see Shining Armor turning around a lot slower than Sun had moved.

Sun split Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang into their component halves, the nunchucks whirling in his hands as he raised two of the nunchuck-shotguns and unloaded them into Shining Armor one after another with a pair of roaring bangs. He flipped the weapons in his hands, switching from the empty to the loaded halves of the weapons, and fired again, two more blasts echoing in the silent arena.

Sun really wished that he could see how much aura Shining Armor had left. But then, Shining Armor would be able to see how much aura he had left as well, and that didn't feel like much.

Sun leapt to his feet, using his nunchucks as, well, as nunchucks, whacking Shining Armor on the side a couple of times before leaping away as Shining Armor finished turning, backflipping across the arena surface out of reach of even that gigantic sword.

Sun reformed his staff out of both his weapons; it still didn't give him reach against that two-hander, but it was better than nunchucks.

Shining Armor looked at him for a moment, then levelled his sword at Sun like a lance. His blade didn't have a hard-light tip, but Sun guessed the metal would hurt him a bit if it hit him just the same.

Shining Armor thundered towards Sun, sword drawn back but still looking pretty outstretched with how big it was. Sun sidestepped, batting the sword aside with a swipe of his staff. Shining Armor set one foot down especially heavily and converted his thrust into a sideways slash aimed at Sun's midriff. Sun parried with his staff, blocking the blow even as it pushed him sideways, his feet sliding along the slick metal surface beneath him. Shining Armor turned in a circle, and Sun was turned in a circle too, whirled around Shining Armor until he dropped down, letting the enormous sword pass over his head.

Shining Armor dropped the sword, just like he had dropped the shield earlier, letting it fall down at his feet like it was nothing at all.

Sun leapt up, staff spinning in his hands as he rushed—

The guns on Shining Armor's shoulders opened fire. Yep, they were machine guns all right, and they were spitting bullets right at him. Sun braced, spinning Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang in front of him in a swirling red circle, rounds deflecting off of the spinning staff to fly in all directions, slamming into the shield that protected Mrs. B and Councillor Cadance.

Shining Armor kept up the fire as he produced what looked like a tube from out of his wrist.

A beam of hard light, like the one that Trixie had used in her fight against Sunset, emerged from out of it.

The motors of Shining Armor's suit whirred as he drew back the sabre.

Sun gripped his staff tightly in both hands.

They stared at each other for a moment, then attacked, each at the same time, rushing towards one another. Sun whirled his staff, lashing out with it, meeting the slashes and the thrusts of Shining Armor's hard-light sabre. Shining Armor slashed at him, but Sun parried it away before bringing his staff down on Shining Armor's shoulder, a blow Shining Armor took on the forearm before brushing Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang aside. He slashed again, upwards and diagonally, but Sun parried again, countered only to have his own hit blocked.

Shining Armor retreated and thrust at him, Sun turned the blow aside and tried to take advantage, but Shining Armor pulled his sword back just in time to protect himself.

And so it went, back and forth, slash, parry, counter, parry again, break off for a second, then one of them would attack again, and so, the cycle would restart, with a blow from the left or right, up or down, always countered. Neither of them was strong enough to break through the other's guard, neither of them could—

Shining Armor swept Sun's staff out of his hands with a flick, sending Ruyi Bang and Jingu Bang skittering away across the surface of the battlefield.

Shining Armor's helmet retracted with a set of clanks and rattles, revealing his face. "I think I've—"

Sun hit him, punching him square on the nose, sending his head snapping backwards as far as the design of his suit would allow. He drew back his fist for another blow.

Shining Armor grabbed him by the neck and lifted him off the ground.

"That'll do," Shining Armor said. "I've seen enough."

Sun's legs kicked at the air. "Were you holding back?"

"Of course," Shining Armor said. "I wanted to see how good you were, not how fast I could take you out."

Sun was silent for a second, legs still kicking, tail shaking this way and that. "And?" he asked.

Shining Armor was quiet for a second. "You're pretty fast, pretty fast with your hands or your weapon too, quick thinking, and you can handle yourself in a fight. Your semblance burns through your aura, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," Sun admitted. "It's a pretty cool semblance, don't get me wrong, but I think it would have drained me out if I'd tried to use it again. I probably used it too much." He paused. "But I wouldn't have had to use it if you hadn't been wearing all … that."

Shining Armor snorted as he set Sun down on the ground.

"Overall, I'd say you're all right," he said. "In fact, I'd even say you're pretty good. I can see why your team decided to send you into the finals, although I wouldn't put money on you taking the crown at the end of this tournament."

"That's … not exactly encouraging," Sun replied.

"Kid, I'm not saying that you'll definitely be knocked out in your first one-on-one match; I'm just saying don't be too disappointed if you are," Shining Armor told him. The hard-light sabre in his hand fizzled out, the beam retracting back into the tube. "As for your future plans … are you sure you wouldn't rather stay in school for three more years?"

"Do you think I'd learn much if I did?" asked Sun.

"Learn to fight? No," Shining Armor said. "I doubt you'd come out at the end of your fourth year much better than you are now. Would you be wiser, a better leader, more tactically proficient … probably, yes." He paused. "But Cadance says you've made your choice, no matter what anyone says. Is that right?"

Sun nodded. "I know what I want, what I want to do, where I want to go. Back to school isn't it."

Shining Armor raised one eyebrow. "I hope she's worth it."

"It's not—"

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, if it is," Shining Armor assured him. "What you're doing … I think it's pretty cool, even if it is also dumb as a bag of rocks. After all, what's the point of being a young man if you can't be dumb for love?"

"Were you?" Sun asked.

Shining Armor grinned. "I was so dumb I almost let love slip right through my fingers without ever realising it. I don't blame you for wanting to be close by for the next three years, but Atlas—"

"I want to be close by, but I don't want to smother Blake either; I don't want to…" Sun hesitated for a second, thinking it through, putting his words in order. "I will always be there for Blake, but I don't think Blake needs me to be always there, you know? She's got so much going on in her life, so much that she wants to do and that other people want her to do and to be, so many plans … I don't want to be the clingy guy, the guy who has to always have her close—"

"The guy who sends an a capella troupe round to his girlfriend's work because he feels neglected?" Shining Armor suggested.

Sun stared at him.

Shining Armor smiled. "At first, I was puzzled when I saw Twily's friend Rarity in the Council building, along with some people who I didn't know. Then they started singing to one of the secretaries." He paused. "They were pretty good, but you probably won't be surprised to hear the relationship didn't last."

Sun chuckled. "I'll always be there when she needs me," he repeated. "But she doesn't need me all the time; she's got … so many other people to help. And there are so many other people who need someone to help them, because Blake can't do everything by herself." He hesitated. "One of the weird things about this year has been watching this place change. Vale, I mean, not Beacon. I never really stuck around in any one place to see it change before, or if I did, I didn't notice because I was still getting to know it. But Vale … I've seen Vale change, and for the worse. I think it might be kind of nice to see a place change for the better, especially if I could say that I had something to do with that."

Shining Armor nodded. "I can see the attraction," he agreed. He sighed. "I … I can't say for certain that you're the saviour that Mantle has been looking for, because I'm not sure that you're that good … but also because I'm just not sure that any one person can save Mantle. But I also think, based on what I've seen, based on my judgement, that you won't die the moment you set foot in Mantle, so I will tell Cadance that you are up to this, and in the morning - because this should be done in the light of the sun, not in darkness - you can take the oath to me, and Cadance will sort the paperwork out and you will be a huntsman. Something that Blake won't be for another three years." He smiled. "Congratulations, Sun Wukong."

"Really? I passed! Yeah!" Sun cried. "Thanks. Thanks a lot. I won't—"

"The only person you can let down, the only person you should worry about trying not to let them down is yourself," Shining Armor told him. "Just … don't have any regrets."

"I won't," Sun assured him. "I won't have a single one."
 
Chapter 55 - Be Free and Fare Thou Well
Be Free and Fare Thou Well


The Liver Building was so called because it had once been the home of the Royal Liver … Liver Company? Or was it Liver Insurance? Royal Liver something, anyway, and they must have really been something because their old headquarters was still a pretty big building; it wasn't the tallest building in Vale anymore, not by a way, with big towers around like the one Ciel was perched on top of, but it was still pretty big, up and across, with two clock towers set at either end of it, the clocks facing north and south across Vale. The style of the building was not really old-fashioned — it was built of reinforced concrete for a start — but it wasn't hypermodern either; it was kind of in-between, solid and firm, but with a few old-style decorative touches on it, like the stone crown at the top, running between the two clock towers, which was done to resemble the crenellations of a castle wall, or the round domes on top of the clock towers: one was golden like the sun, the other silver like the moon.

Whatever the name of the company that had built the building had been, both the company and the building had been named after liver birds, and statues of said birds sat on the roof, chained down at the feet, looking down over Vale below.

Rainbow stood amongst the statues. Ruby had said that the liver birds were mythical creatures who had inhabited the coast when the first settlers had founded what would go on to become Vale, and that the statues were chained down because if they were ever to fly away then Vale would be destroyed by flood. Personally, as a result of birdwatching with Fluttershy, Rainbow thought that the birds depicted on the statue looked like spoonbills, birds which were very much alive and not mythical in the least. But she supposed that if they'd lived long enough ago it was possible that nobody had been able to draw pictures of the real thing, and anyway these statues were so high up hardly anyone would be able to spot the details anyway.

In any case, Rainbow had one hand upon one of the liver bird statues, resting on top of its head, as with her other hand she held up a pair of binoculars up to her eyes — the reason not to use the magnification on her goggles was in case she suddenly needed to look at something much closer, which could get awkward — and used them to sweep up and down the street.

"Okay, com check," she said, speaking into the earpiece lodged in her, well, ear. "Everyone report in."

"This is Yang, I'm right here if you need me."

"Blake here. I'm about … thirty yards in front of Amber's current position, nothing sighted so far. I'm continuing to move forward."

Rainbow's gaze swept down the street. It was hard to make people out in this crowd, from this distance, what with all the motion and the dancing, and everything, but she was able to catch sight of Blake, her white vest kind of glowing, or seeming to, underneath her black waistcoat.

"I see you," Rainbow said. "Can you see anything?"

"Not at the moment, I just told you."

"I meant 'are you confident that you could spot a threat?'" Rainbow clarified. "There are a lot of people out here."

"This is Sunset, I'm here with Pyrrha, Jaune, Penny. Not to mention Amber and Dove."

"That's great, but I need to hear it from them," Rainbow said.

"Hello, Rainbow Dash," said Penny.

Rainbow snorted. "Hi, Penny. How are you doing?"

"I didn't expect there to be this many people."

"Although I suppose we probably should have," Pyrrha remarked. "I mean, this is Pyrrha here."

"And Jaune here, receiving you loud and clear."

"Are you saying you think we should abort?" Sunset asked.

"Would Amber go along with it if we did decide to abort?" Rainbow replied.

"I think so," Sunset said. "I'm not sure she'd be happy about it, but I think so."

"There are a lot of people out here," Rainbow remarked. "But, like Pyrrha said, we probably should have known that there would be a lot of people out here; if we abort now, with no actual danger, just because we didn't realise that a public event in the Vytal Festival would have a lot of public present then we'll look like idiots."

"I'm not sure that our saving face is a good reason to keep Amber in harm's way," Pyrrha remarked.

"Neither would I, but we don't know that she is in danger," Rainbow said. "I just wish that I could see more clearly from up here. Blake, you never answered my question, can you see clearly? Do you trust yourself to spot a danger or is the crowd concealing it?"

"I can see," Blake said. "I know where to look and I know what I'm looking for. I'm fine."

"Then we're fine," Rainbow said. After all, she'd told Professor Goodwitch that she trusted Blake, and she did, so she would. "Ruby, how's it looking from your side of the street?"

"It is packed," Ruby said. "I'm glad I'm up here and now down there. But I can see Blake, and I can see Amber and everyone else, too."

Rainbow looked up the road; she spotted Pyrrha first, distinctive in her gilded armour — even when people were wearing costumes, Pyrrha's Mistralian gear stood out, even more than Jaune's armour over his hoodie — and then everyone else afterwards. Amber and Dove were in the middle, with Pyrrha, Sunset, Jaune, and Penny gathered around them. They looked like bodyguards, there was no getting around or away from that, but nobody seemed to be objecting to it or to the fact that they were armed. There was a slight degree of width being given them, but not too much — not too much from the perspective of someone who wanted to feel like part of the carnival anyway, from a security perspective the wider the better.

Amber and Dove didn't seem to notice — no, that was wrong, they clearly noticed, it just didn't seem to be bothering them too much. They were dancing, in the middle of their protectors. Or at least they were trying to dance, it wasn't going all that well, it was like watching Twilight's dancing. Rainbow guessed that they didn't have a lot of practice.

Considering that Amber had been raised alone with her mom and visits from old Professor Ozpin, and that she had spent a lot of time with old stories, it wasn't surprising that she was a bit arms and legs when it came to modern dancing.

And that kind of went for Dove and his rustic village, too.

They looked ridiculous, but at the same time it was kind of charming, if only because they were both so into it.

When two people look as happy as that, does the quality of the dancing even matter?

"Ciel," Rainbow said, addressing the one person who hadn't reported in yet. "Are you okay up there?"

"I can hear you," Ciel said. "And for what it may be worth I think we should continue for now."

"How's it looking up there?" asked Rainbow.

"They are a handsome couple," Ciel declared.

"I meant—"

"I know what you meant," Ciel said, a little amusement creeping into her voice by the backdoor, like a teenager trying not to wake their parents. "I have a clear view of the entire thoroughfare, and I have eyes on Blake. Like her, I see nothing to be concerned about at present."

"Good," Rainbow said. "That's what I like to hear." She paused. "Okay, I'll call for regular checks. If anyone doesn't respond I'm going to abort. If you see anything or hear anything or even sense anything, let me know, okay?"

"Copy that," Ciel responded.

"You got it," said Ruby.

"Understood," said Sunset.

Rainbow Dash lowered the binoculars. "Good luck out there, everyone."

She fell silent. Everyone fell silent. There was no sound on the line.

Up here, so far from the partying crowds moving slowly and fitfully along down below, there was very little sound at all. She could hear, just about, a mélange of noise rising up from the road towards her, music and voices, but all vague and indistinct; it was like the arena, but worse. There the crowd sounds all mingled together, but they sounded loud at least, even if not very clear. The only sound that Rainbow could really make out from down below was someone playing a trumpet; maybe it was Flynt. Probably not, that would be pretty long odds, but if he was using his trumpet then that would explain why Rainbow could hear it faintly rising to make itself known above the other sounds.

Everything else was just a bit of an audible blur, really, although she imagined that Blake, Sunset, and all the others weren't feeling the same way actually down in the carnival.

Rainbow was glad that the earpieces they were wearing had noise-cancelling to cut out all that excess sound, otherwise it might have been a struggle to understand what they were saying.

As it was, she could barely hear a thing, all the sounds were far away.

Except for…

Rainbow switched the hand that was holding the binoculars, and with her now-free hand she reached up and tapped the button on the lower back of her earpiece, switching the setting to one-way. For now, she would be able to hear what was being said, but nobody would be able to hear her speaking.

Nobody would be able to hear her as, taking a step back from the edge of the Liver Building and the statue of the liver bird, Rainbow turned around, facing the nearest clocktower, which also provided a route up onto the roof — the same route that Rainbow had used to get up here — and said, "Applejack? And who's that with you?"

"I'm afraid it's me, darling," Rarity said, as she and Applejack stepped out from around the back of the clocktower, into Rainbow's view. Rarity had a bag slung over one shoulder, and she was holding onto the strap with one hand.

"How did you know it was me?" Applejack asked.

Rainbow grinned. "Because you said 'shhhh, sugarcube'."

Applejack's eyes narrowed a little.

"What are you two doing up here?" Rainbow asked.

"Do you think that maybe we oughtta be askin' you that question, sugarcube?" Applejack suggested.

"This is the end, culmination, and high point of the Vytal Festival," Rarity said. "You've just won a place in the final rounds of the greatest competition in Remnant. The whole of Vale is celebrating. And yet here you are, standing up on the roof - at the top of a very long flight of stairs I must say - with only these statues for company." She paused. "You look as if you're auditioning for the role of a grim and brooding superhero." She ventured a faint smile. "I have to say your hair doesn't really match the aesthetic, darling."

Rainbow chuckled. "Okay, but Twilight—"

"We heard Twilight, and we heard Blake," Applejack said. "And what we heard didn't sound like the whole truth. I guess we were hopin' that you'd be a little more honest with us."

Rainbow was silent for a second, her eyes flickering between the two of them. "I mean … Twi told you that we had a mission, right?" she said.

"Eeyup," Applejack said. "That she did. Somethin' about the headmaster — Professor Ozpin, not even the General — the headmaster's niece, if Ah recall."

"You recall correctly," Rarity murmured. "Professor Ozpin's niece, who requires so much protection that you all have to provide it, and yet at the same time requires so little protection that it must be provided by students."

"Hey, there's nothing little about our protection," Rainbow said. "We've done this really well, if I do say so myself."

Rarity held up one hand. "No offence intended, Rainbow, of course, I merely meant to draw attention to the… well, the slight absurdity of this being done as an extracurricular activity, as opposed to Professor Ozpin hiring a huntsman or two if he is so concerned about his niece's wellbeing."

"It don't make a whole lot of sense to us, is what we're sayin'," Applejack said. "It feels like there's some part of all this that you and Twilight and Blake are leavin' out. And Ah know that we aren't the only ones who feel that way, Cadance feels it too, and Blake's momma as well. Now Cadance is willin' to trust you, although how much of that is because she's already asked you the questions and gotten no answers from you Ah don't know, but—"

"But you don't trust me, is that it?" Rainbow asked.

"Ah would trust you with mah life!" Applejack declared, taking a step forward. "Ah just… Ah ain't so sure that Ah trust you with yours. Whatever was goin' on in Mountain Glenn, whatever you and Blake got yourselves involved in, and now this… there's a lot of unanswered questions around you and we worry about you, Sugarcube. We worry about you and we worry about Blake and we worry about Twilight—"

"You don't need to worry about Twilight," Rainbow assured them. "Twilight is fine and Twilight is going to be fine, I guarantee."

"Ah know," Applejack said. "And Ah believe you, because Ah trust you with Twilight too."

"Which is why we're more worried about you, darling," Rarity added. "You and Blake."

"You can trust me with Blake, too," Rainbow said.

"Can Blake be trusted with herself?" Rarity asked.

"I would say actually, yeah," Rainbow replied. "More or less. Now." She paused. "Listen, guys, I appreciate that you are concerned, and maybe in your position… okay, certainly in your position I would be concerned and I'd want answers too."

"And I doubt you'd take no for an answer," said Rarity.

Rainbow drew in a deep breath, and let out a laugh. "No," she admitted. "No, I probably wouldn't."

She turned away from them, saying, "I have to get back to this, even if we're not done." She walked back to the edge of the building, and raised the binoculars to her eyes, sweeping over the partygoers in the carnival down below.

She heard, rather than saw, Applejack and Rarity coming to stand both on her left, since the statue on her right was obstructing the view from that direction.

"So Blake is down there somewhere, Ah guess?" Applejack said.

"Yep," Rainbow said. "I'd give you the binoculars so you could see her, but I need to keep an eye on things."

"You runnin' this show?" Applejack asked.

"No need to sound so surprised," Rainbow said. "Yes, I'm in charge. Sunset is down there in the field, I am up here … deciding whether or not to abort or not."

"You don't sound very happy about it, darling," Rarity said.

"She ain't happy about it," Applejack said. "She wants to be down there with Blake."

"I wouldn't mind it if Blake were up here and I were down there," Rainbow said. "She could do with some command experience. She was a team leader, briefly, but she wasn't a very good one, not very … involved with her teammates. I think that she could do better the second time around."

"Then why didn't you suggest that she command from up here, if that would make you happier?" asked Rarity.

"Because this is a serious mission, and I — we, Sunset and I — thought that Professor Ozpin wouldn't go for our plan if we left command in the hands of someone who didn't have experience," Rainbow said. "And besides … Blake is well-suited for her part of the mission. She's on up ahead to ferret out danger in advance of Amber and the others."

"I see," Rarity murmured. "And Twilight, she—"

"Is up in the sky, waiting for the word," Rainbow said. "If everything goes well tonight she won't have to do anything at all."

"Surely if everything goes well tonight then none of you will have to do anything at all," Rarity said.

"Yeah," Rainbow agreed. "Yeah, that's right. If everything goes well."

Neither Rarity nor Applejack said anything for a second. There was silence, or near silence, what with the sound coming up from the carnival down below.

"You know," Applejack said. "That could be us."

"If things were different, maybe," Rainbow said. She frowned, and lowered the binoculars so that she could look at Applejack and Rarity. "Is that where Pinkie and Fluttershy are right now?"

Rarity shook her head. "It was considered, what with it being an experience, and you know that Pinkie would just love it," she said. "But, ultimately, the fact that this was considered something that required such a degree of protection for Professor Ozpin's niece made us decide that we couldn't really risk bringing the girls. Just how dangerous is this event, darling?"

"Hopefully it isn't dangerous at all," Rainbow said. "It shouldn't be dangerous to anyone—"

"Except Professor Ozpin's niece?" asked Rarity.

"Amber," Rainbow said. "Her name is Amber." She paused, and raised the binoculars to her eyes again. "That being said… yes. Except to Amber."

"What is it with this girl?" Applejack asked. "Sugarcube, what is goin' on?"

Rainbow didn't reply.

Rarity rummaged in her bag, making a noise that was much louder to Rainbow's ears than anything coming from the carnival below. "Would you care for some tea, darling?"

Rainbow looked to see that Rarity was offering a vacuum flask, a royal blue one without any other colours or decorations on it.

"Thank you," Rainbow said quietly. She raised her voice a little as she said, "You're really not leaving here without an answer, are you?"

"Nope," said Applejack.

Rainbow chuckled. "Rarity, would you mind pouring me that, I need to keep hold of these." She held up the binoculars.

"Of course, darling," Rarity said softly, unscrewing the lid off the flask, that could also serve as a little cup, and pouring out some of the brown, milky-looking tea into it. She held it out towards Rainbow.

Rainbow took it in one hand, downing practically the whole cup in one go. It was a little bitter, but not too much so on account of the milk. And it was warm, which was the main thing.

"Thanks," she said, before going quiet. "I trust you with my life, too. You know that, right."

"We know," Applejack said.

"And I think Blake would say the same," Rainbow went on. "And I know that Twilight would."

"We know that too, darling," Rarity said softly.

"I know," Rainbow whispered. "I know that you know."

She would have run one hand through her hair, but she didn't have a hand free. Instead, she raised her head and looked up at the moon, shining down upon them all. The broken moon, with all the little pieces hanging up there. Rainbow had often wondered why they didn't fall down. Twilight said they were being held in place by the gravity of the moon itself, the big part; that didn't explain to Rainbow why they never looked like they were moving at all. Surely gravity would have pulled them back in by now and they have smashed into the moon like pieces of a jigsaw — or maybe something not as neat, but anyway, it was less like gravity and more like gravity dust.

Only dust didn't work in space, so it couldn't be that.

I'm distracting myself, aren't I?

"I trust you with my life," she said quietly. "But I'm not allowed to trust you with hers. You're right, there's more going on than you realise, but I can't tell you what it is. And honestly… I'm not sure you want to know. There are times when I wish I didn't know."

There. She'd said it. She couldn't have said that to Ciel, or Sunset, or Penny because one and all they would have judged her for it. She couldn't have said it to Twilight, because although Twilight wouldn't have judged… Rainbow didn't want Twi to think of her as weak that way.

She certainly couldn't have told Blake, and for much the same reasons that she couldn't have told Twilight: Rainbow didn't want Blake to think of her in that way.

But Applejack, and Rarity… them she could tell. She couldn't tell them why, that there were times when the things that Rainbow knew felt like a tumour in her brain constantly pressing down against everything else in her head, but she could tell them the plain fact of it.

Yeah, sure, it was better to know, it was better to be a part of something, to do what she could; Rainbow knew all that, and she didn't really regret being a part of all this, doing her part to protect Atlas. But the lying, even to the people who were closest to her, the mealy-mouthed excuses for why she couldn't say anything, the way that knowing about Salem made everything seem like so much more of a grinding battle of attrition than just defending the kingdoms against the grimm had seemed, the way that Professor Ozpin was willing to trade lives for time, the way he'd been willing to give up one of either Pyrrha or Amber give himself some breathing room.

The memory of Salem herself, down in the tunnels under Mountain Glenn, what she'd put in Rainbow's head, what she'd made her feel.

It was a lot. It was like a constant headache.

"That sounds ominous," Rarity muttered.

"Yeah, well, it wasn't…" Rainbow paused. "It's not meant to… it's the truth, but don't get too down about it."

"It ain't always that easy, Sugarcube," Applejack pointed out.

"I know," Rainbow murmured. "But… I promise, I will not let anything happen to Blake or Twilight. I won't let them come to harm."

"And you?" asked Applejack.

Rainbow grinned. "You know me. I always come back, even if I'm carrying someone else across my shoulders. I'll be fine." She paused. "I can't tell you what's going on, but … if you wouldn't mind sticking around I… I'd appreciate the company."

Rarity smiled. "We'd be glad to, darling."

XxXxX​

Yang leaned back, her butt resting on her bike, which was in turn resting against the wall.

A polythene box filled with noodles slathered in ketchup, that she had bought from a van parked just a little way down the street, sat on the seat of Bumblebee, just next to her.

In her hands Yang held a magazine, Buffs, Babes, and Bikes, which she looked at for the pictures of the motorcycles, obviously, and not for the various attractive models who they took pictures of posing alongside them. Not that she would ever let Ruby catch her with this, it had been bad enough when Nora found them.

So Yang stood there, flicking through the motorcycle pictures, occasionally reaching down to twirl a few noodles around the plastic fork and put them into her mouth — they were holding their heat pretty well, and Yang liked the texture of them, the feeling of the oil they'd been fried in — as she waited to be needed, possibly.

Of course, she would only be needed if things went sideways at the carnival, so she should really be hoping for a quiet night.

Around her, the street was on the move, people were walking past her in both directions, headed this way or that; there was practically no traffic, she hadn't seen or heard a car or another bike go by in ages, but there were plenty of pedestrians, passing her by without so much as a glance in her direction.

Not too long ago — as in, just days ago — Yang would have taken that as a pretty sad metaphor for her own existence, but now … it felt a bit weird to say that being involved in the war against an undying witch was making her feel better about herself, but, well… being involved in the war against an undying witch was making her feel better about herself.

Yeah, maybe she would have a quiet night tonight. Maybe she would stand here, with her magazine, buying food out of trucks parked on the kerb until morning came, but so what? If that happened it would be because everything was working out for Amber, there was no sign of Cinder, and nobody was in any danger, and that was a good thing. It wouldn't be because nobody trusted her, or thought that she had a part to play in all this.

In fact, as much as she might not do anything tonight, if she did do something then she had one of the most important jobs in the whole plan. If anything went wrong then she was the one who would have to get Amber to safety, her, with only Rainbow Dash to support her. That was pretty important, you had to admit.

Yang certainly had no problem admitting it. It was pretty important. She was pretty important. And that didn't change even if she had a quiet night.

A raven croaked from somewhere up above, it must have been perched on a roof somewhere.

Yang flicked the page of her magazine, although she was barely looking at it, lost in her thoughts as she was.

She… did she really want to do this all the time? Did she want to devote her whole life to it, the way that Mom had? Maybe not, was the honest answer; she wasn't sure that she wanted to be on call all the time, ever-ready to drop everything and do Professor Ozpin's latest bidding, run his errand, fight his battle. But she wanted that to be her choice, made on her terms, and not made for her by people who couldn't see past who her birth mother was.

The only thing we share is long wavy hair, and sometimes eye colour. I'm nothing like her.

The raven croaked again; Yang ignored it.

And just because I don't want to give up my life doesn't mean that I'm not prepared to do the right thing. It doesn't mean that I'm not willing to help out when necessary. Just because I don't want to be always at the beck and call doesn't mean that I don't want to be trusted.

I'm stronger than Ruby is, I'm better at close quarters, I'm pretty much as good as Pyrrha is, so why shouldn't they trust me?


An intuition prompted Yang to look up, from thoughts and magazine alike, and see Lavinia Andronicus walking towards her. She was wearing a white summer dress with flower print and a frilly neckline, and had partially covered up her prosthetic arms beneath a pair of old-fashioned opera gloves with gold scrollwork around the top where you pulled them on. Her hair was tied up in a bun behind her, except for two long strands that fell down on either side of her face to frame it.

A smile played across her face as she sauntered over to Yang.

Hey, she signed.

Yang blinked. Hey yourself, she signed back. What are you doing out here?

I could ask you the same question,
signed Lavinia. What's a girl like you doing in a place like this on the second night of the Vytal Tournament?

Yang grinned. Okay, first of all, I asked first. Second of all, what kind of a girl am I?

A cool one,
signed Lavinia.

A laugh jumped out of Yang's mouth. Well thank you, for that, she signed. But you still haven't answered my question. What are you doing here?

I came here to see you,
Lavinia signed. Do you know how rare it is to find someone who can read sign language competently?

We all took classes.

I'm sure you did,
Lavinia replied. But the number who remember it is disappointingly rare. It's… She paused, her fingers still and unmoving. It's cool to find someone outside of my team who can understand me. And even cooler when the person who can understand me is someone that I… that was a good fight today. You were good out there.

Nora got the final blow in that took you out, not me.

Your friend Nora was good too, don't get me wrong,
Lavinia signed at her. But don't sell yourself short.

Yang grinned. Are you telling me that I should think I'm all that because you couldn't beat me? Someone's not too modest.

What's the point in being modest?
Asked Lavinia. Nobody's ever going to give you any credit for it, at least not in Mistral. Anyway, the point is, you can understand what I'm saying to you, and you seem like a pretty cool person, so… I was wondering… if you wanted… to hang out, or something? Lavinia cringed. That looked really pathetic, didn't it?

What? No! No, not at all,
Yang assured her. Before you think too much of me, be aware that you are giving my memories of sign classes a real workout but, with that said, and give you a warning that I may have to jump on this bike and run off at some point, although I hope not, sure, I wouldn't mind hanging out with you either. She gestured to the polythene box. You want some noodles?

Lavinia looked down. Is that ketchup on those noodles?

Yeah.


Lavinia's eyes boggled. Ketchup on noodles? What kind of a barbarian are you?

A Valish one,
Yang signed back.

Oh, well that explains everything then, signed Lavinia.

Yang laughed. Do you want any or not?

No, thank you, I'm good,
Lavinia signed. So what are you doing out here? After all, I answered. So now it's your turn.

I guess that's only fair,
Yang signed. I'm waiting.

For someone?

Sort of,
Yang replied. Someone or something. Someone might need me to pick them up and give them a lift, but only maybe. Or I might be free to spend all night out here.

And you're okay with that? Just waiting all night on a possibility? There's nowhere you'd rather be? Like … wherever cool girls go in Vale.

I wouldn't actually know,
Yang replied. I'm not as cool as I look.

Lavinia's only reply to that was a sceptically raised eyebrow.

But no, Yang went on. I don't actually mind, because… She paused, considering her next words, or signs. You must feel like you've got something to live up to, right? What with your dad, and all your brothers. I mean, if I'm out of line just tell me, but—

No, it's fine,
Lavinia signed, although she didn't say anything else for a few seconds. I know what you mean. It is a lot. People expect a lot. Or at least it sometimes seems like they do. Maybe all they really expect is that I'll get myself killed doing something brave and noble like so many of my brothers did.

I'm sure that's not true,
Yang told her.

I'd like to believe it isn't, but I'm not sure, Lavinia replied. The point is that you're right. My father was a great huntsmen, my brothers were brave, fearless even, true protectors of the people. My name, Andronicus, is a name to conjure with because of their courage and their accomplishments. If I did anything else, if I took any other path in life, I would be seen as… as having betrayed that legacy.

Would you want to do something else?
Yang asked. If your name was something else, if you had a choice?

No,
Lavinia signed back instantly. Especially not now.

Yang frowned. What do you mean?

Lavinia shrugged. You won't have noticed, but the world isn't always that kind to people with robot arms. As a huntress, I'm a hero; walking down the street I'm a freak, even if my name is Andronicus.

Yang was quiet for a moment, wondering if there was anything she could possibly say that would rise above the level of banal platitude, and whether — that being the case — it might be better to keep her fingers still. But then, that might seem indifferent more than anything else. That isn't right, she signed eventually, feeling like it was a lame thing to say even as she said it.

Maybe not, Lavinia signed. But it is anyway. She paused. But, if I've made you think that I had some big dream that was ruined by societal prejudice, not really. After all, hunting things is what my family does. What else was I going to do? Just because I like horses doesn't mean that I was going to become a groom, or even a jockey. I'm happy with what I chose. It's a worthy cause, isn't it?

Oh, yeah, absolutely,
Yang replied.

But why do you ask, about my family?

Because… because it's kind of the same for me. With legacy and all. I never had so many brothers, I'm the oldest in my family, but I do have something to live up… and something to live…


Lavinia tilted her head to one side. If you'd rather not talk about it—

Then I shouldn't have started talking about it, should I?
Yang signed back. My mom was a hero. She gave her life to protect the world, as a huntress, and because of that I've got a lot to live up to. But at the same time… there's someone else, another person, a coward who ran away and abandoned the battle and their family, and that… half the time it feels as though everyone is just waiting for me to follow in her footsteps.

Just because people expect something doesn't mean that it's guaranteed to happen,
Lavinia signed.

But that doesn't stop them from expecting it, signed Yang. The point is, that's why I'm here, because if there's a chance to show that they're wrong about me, that I can, that I will rise above the bar on the floor and get a little closer to my mom's legacy then I'll take it. I'll take it every time.

Lavinia nodded. Understandable. Perfectly understandable. Even on a night such as this. She paused. If you have to go then that is fine. But until then, I hope you will permit me to enjoy your company while I have it.

XxXxX​

Tempest didn't like this.

She didn't like being in this carnival, and she didn't like the way that at least certain people were looking at her, but more than that she didn't like the fact that Amber was here.

She didn't know what the girl was thinking.

Of course, she had been down to Vale before, and it was possible that this trip was no different from the others, and that Amber had no notion of any greater danger than before.

That was possible, just as it was possible that there really was no greater danger than before, but Tempest doubted it. She doubted both of those.

As far as the danger went, there was the fact that Phoebe Kommenos, one of the Atlas upperclassmen, had been murdered last night; she knew that because her teammates — one of her teammates in particular — had stormed into the cafeteria to announce it loudly and angrily. Which, alone, she might have attributed to Sonata's good work in stirring up anti-Atlas sentiment; except that not long after the late Phoebe's teammate had accused Pyrrha of the crime, Sunset Shimmer had got up from the table and stalked off up to Beacon Tower. Now, why would she do that? Because she was scuttling off to see Professor Ozpin. Why would she do that? Because she knew something about this death.

And Cinder had left the house.

Tempest had not been too concerned when Bon Bon told her that Amber was going down into Vale for the carnival that night, but then Lightning Dust had called her in a panic to tell her that Cinder and Emerald were both missing, that neither she nor Sonata had noticed them leave, and that they didn't know how long they'd been gone. That was bad enough, bad enough for Tempest to rebuke Lightning for her incompetence — she was considering leaving her with Sonata when all this was over, it was clear that Lightning would be of no use to her — but even worse because it put the pieces together in Tempest's mind.

Cinder had killed this Phoebe Kommenos, although for what reason escaped Tempest. But then, Cinder's motives were often opaque, especially to those who didn't buy into her idiosyncratic way of viewing the world.

Regardless of the why, Sunset Shimmer thought that Cinder had done it, and that was why she had rushed off to tell Professor Ozpin about it.

And Cinder was still in Vale.

Did she know about Amber? Did she know that Amber was awake? Tempest didn't know; certainly neither she nor Bon Bon had told her, but that didn't mean that she didn't know, she could have… she could have seen Amber on a wideshot of the fairgrounds on a news report about the tournament, although it would be bad luck if she had. But she was still in Vale, for whatever reason, and that meant that coming here was dangerous for Amber.

And they knew it too, Sunset Shimmer and all the rest, that was why Sunset, Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune Arc, and Penny Polendina were all arrayed around her, that was why Blake Belladonna was scouting ahead, and if Ruby Rose wasn't up on a rooftop somewhere with her sniper rifle then Tempest would be astonished. They knew, or at least they feared. In which case it was foolish of them to bring Amber here, but then they were a sentimental lot, weren't they?

That was why they would fail.

Did Amber know that she was in more danger than before? It was possible that they hadn't told her of the risks, but that would have been unlikely. Why would her friends hide the truth from her like that? But, if they had told her, why would she come down here anyway?

It occurred to Tempest that Amber might have decided to come down here because she wanted Cinder to make an attempt on her life, and thus fall upon the blades of her protectors. It was even possible that she knew that Tempest and Bon Bon would have to kill Cinder rather than allow her to die; that was a very cynical thought, and it seemed unlikely coming from such a nice, sweet girl … but that was just the word, wasn't it? She seemed so nice.

'She seemed so nice' was what the neighbours said on the news about the woman who had just poisoned her husband of eight years before smothering the children in their beds and taking enough pills to euthanise a small elephant. She seemed so nice.

They were, after all, talking about a girl who had decided to sell out her friends and her cause for the promise of safety for herself and her boyfriend, obviously she wasn't that nice.

So when the idea came to Tempest's mind that Amber might have engineered this entire situation to bring about Cinder's death, or even just that she was hoping for that outcome, she did not discount it.

And if it happened, if Cinder attacked, then … she couldn't be allowed to kill Amber, not now; not now that Salem had made the bargain with Amber. Not least since Cinder would undoubtedly work out that Tempest, and possibly even Salem herself, had betrayed her.

What would Amber do, once Cinder was dead? She would still betray her allies, or at least Tempest hoped she would. After all, even with Cinder dead, there would be other Cinders. She knew that Salem would never stop hunting the Fall Maiden until she had obtained the Crown. And so, even absent the most immediate danger, she would still give up the crown in order to preserve her own life, and that of the boy she loved.

Sentimentality again.

Tempest had decided against having Bon Bon join the others in protecting Amber; leaving aside the question of necessity — they seemed to have done a fairly good job regardless — having Bon Bon be armed would raise some questions. She had to decide to place some faith in Ozpin's agents to do their jobs, while she scouted ahead looking for trouble, and for Cinder.

Hopefully she would not come, hopefully she didn't know that Amber was here or even awake. Hopefully this night would pass quietly.

But if she did come, Tempest would be ready.

And if she had to end this, once and for all, and put Cinder out of her misery, well… that wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen, would it?

XxXxX​

Cinder lurked behind a couple of bins — the big, almost industrial ones, that clubs and restaurants disposed of their garbage in at the end of the night — in a small, dirty, rather shabby little alleyway off Broadway; it was an intensely squalid place, but it was out of sight of the street itself.

A bin was hardly a place for a warrior to conceal themselves, but it would serve to conceal her until she was ready.

Cinder breathed in and out. Her obsidian blades were already formed, and held before her; in the darkness, with the moonlight obscured by the tall buildings that rose up ahead of and behind her, they were almost invisible. Mostly she felt them, rather than seeing them, she felt the hilts of the swords in her hands.

She would not really see them until she stepped out into the main road, and everyone else could see them too.

She heard a slight sound, a footfall, light and soft, so soft that she barely heard it. But she heard it nonetheless, a moment before Sunset— no, no it wasn't Sunset, it was Emerald wearing a Sunset costume. That was rather amusing. It had tickled Cinder when she first saw it, and it still amused her now.

Although Emerald did not like wearing it, nevertheless it brought the slightest smile to Cinder's face, the pricking of one corner of her lip.

Besides, although Emerald was dressed in some dark colours, Cinder could at least see her by the bright, fiery colours of her wig.

"How now, Emerald?" Cinder asked. "Is she there?"

"She is," Emerald said, sounding a little breathless. "She — they — landed at the skydock, and now they have joined the carnival. She's heading this way. But Cinder, she is well protected. Sunset, Pyrrha, Jaune, Penny Polendina, they're all close by her, like bodyguards. Blake is up ahead, trying to catch sight of trouble before it gets too close to Amber."

"And Ruby?" asked Cinder. "The other Atlesians?"

"I don't know, but probably covering the others from high ground," Emerald said. "Cinder… I think… I think this might be too much for you."

Cinder snorted. "Tell me, Emerald, did you have to think long and hard whether to tell me that Amber was coming into Vale? Did you consider leaving me ignorant?"

"No," Emerald said at once. "I don't want you to do this, but… no, I didn't consider lying to you."

"No?"

"No," Emerald said again. "Would a lady lie to her friend?"

"Oh yes, definitely, if she thought that she had a good reason," Cinder replied. "Or simply because she thought that it would benefit her."

There was a pause. "That doesn't seem very honourable."

"No, it isn't," Cinder acknowledged. "But in truth, there is very little honour to be found amongst the upper slopes of Mistral. In all those lofty palaces you will struggle to find anyone who isn't primarily concerned with their own advantage."

"That sounds a lot like everywhere else," Emerald pointed out.

"But far more comfortably appointed," Cinder said. "And with much greater freedom from consequence."

"Hmmm," Emerald murmured. Her voice remained quiet as she said. "I think this might be too much for you."

"So you've said."

"I know, but you didn't take any notice of me the first time I said it," Emerald pointed out.

Cinder was none too keen to respond to the point now, either, so she said, "Did you see Tempest or Sweetie Drops at all, when you were at Beacon?"

"I saw Bon Bon talking to Amber at Beacon, and Tempest far more recently," Emerald replied. "She's … trying to stay out of Blake's way while doing the same thing that she is doing, or so it seems to me."

"I see," Cinder whispered. She closed her eyes. "So, they have betrayed me. Salem has betrayed me."

"You don't know that—"

"They would not dare do this without her leave," Cinder declared. "Amber has betrayed Ozpin, Sunset, Pyrrha, and the rest; and Salem has betrayed me."

"Why?" Emerald asked. "Why would she do that? When I saw Bon Bon with Amber… I don't understand. I thought that perhaps she didn't know that Amber was the Fall Maiden, and I didn't tell her because I wasn't sure that she was still with us, but I don't understand. Why have they betrayed us? Why would Amber work with Salem?"

"Because Salem offers her protection from me," Cinder said. "And because Amber knows where the Relic is, which I do not. Amber will give up the Relic of Choice to Salem, Salem will cease all further attempts on Amber's life, and I…"

There was a moment when neither Cinder nor Emerald said anything. All the sound was the music of the carnival, the banging drums, the horns, the raucous singing. It drifted into the alleyway, like grimm drawn to the dark thoughts that swirled around Cinder's mind.

The fact that these grimm promised only annoyance instead of death did not make them any more welcome.

"And you?" Emerald asked quietly.

"And I am no longer needed," Cinder said. "They will kill me."

She closed her eyes. So, we are come to it. The clock strikes twelve.

And so they wait for me, all my foes, just beyond the alleyway. All I need do is step into the light and find … my fate. I do not call it destiny, but fate. It waits for me. It calls to me. They call to me, Sunset and all the rest.

The readiness is all.


Emerald's voice was scarcely more than a whisper. "Let's go, Cinder," she said. "You can't fight them, not all of them, Sunset, Pyrrha, Tempest, you can't beat them all and even if you did there would still be Amber to contend with and we barely beat her the last time when we had Mercury, and Lightning Dust. This is not a battle you can win. And you know that." Her voice trembled. "I know that you know that, and that's why I think that you… I know that you want to go out there but please, please don't. Come away, with me."

"Come away where?" Cinder asked. "Go where?"

"Anywhere!" Emerald cried, a piercing shriek leaping out of her voice for a moment, only to fall back into her throat as she became quiet again. "We can go to Anima, and get the treasure that you told me of, buried under the cherry tree. We can live … anywhere. Anywhere you like."

Cinder smiled, although she didn't know if Emerald could see it or not. "To live in a cottage in the woods somewhere together, you and I?"

"If… if you like," Emerald said.

"Sunset offered me the same thing, once," Cinder told her.

"Did she?" Emerald muttered. "And … what did you say?"

"That I could not," Cinder replied. "I am… I have made myself… I am suited for battle, for this battle, and for nothing else. I do not have it in me to live a peaceful life."

"You haven't tried," Emerald said.

"I could not try," Cinder replied. "I could not do it."

"So you'll go out there and fight them all?" Emerald demanded. "Cinder, if you go out there, you'll die!"

"Perhaps, if the gods decree it so," Cinder said. "But I am still half a Maiden, I possess as much magic as Amber now. I may triumph in spite of all of them."

"But you don't care whether you do or not, do you?" Emerald asked.

"What better place to fight than this?" Cinder asked. "What better battlefield than in the sight of a great crowd, who will bear witness to the combat and to the outcome, whatever that outcome may be?"

"Cinder…" Emerald murmured. "Please… please don't, won't you at least, please just…" She sobbed. "I hate you. I hate that you have made me care what happens to you. Please, Cinder, you're all I have."

"And yet you have it in yourself to be so much more, once out of my shadow," Cinder said. "Go now, Emerald. I release you from my service."

"Go?" Emerald repeated. "You… you're sending me away?"

"Your part in this tale is done," Cinder declared. "Go to Mistral, and the tree upon the hill. Find the treasure, live… live in such a manner as seems best to you but for my sake and at my urging, live in comfort." She lowered her swords down at her side, and bent down to kiss Emerald on the forehead. "You have been a better companion to me than I have deserved, but I have no need of company on this road I am on."

"But I…" Emerald said. "I could—"

"No," Cinder said, before she could ask. "This battle is mine and mine alone. Live, Emerald. Live, and remember me."

Emerald was silent a moment, and a moment more. "Is that… is that your last command to me?"

"It is," Cinder said. "If you will have it so."

It seemed, from the movement of the wig, that Emerald bowed her head. "Then I will obey." She sniffed. "Goodbye, Cinder." She turned to go.

"To wind and sky be free," Cinder said, as she saw dimly Emerald walk away, retreating down the alley in the opposite direction to the carnival.

Emerald's step quickened, Cinder could hear it as a swift staccato beat, she was running.

"Be free," Cinder repeated. "And fare thou well."

But Emerald was already lost to her sight.

Cinder was alone, with her swords.

Her sable arms which did the night resemble as she lay hid behind the ominous bin.

Hmm, lacks something of grandeur at the end, doesn't it?

Still, I have my arms. Arms black as night, black as my purpose.

Thoughts black, hands apt…


She was under little illusions. Emerald had been correct, this battle would doubtless prove difficult. But then, the greatest battles, the most memorable, were frequently difficult.

And yet they must be fought regardless.

The readiness is all.

She raised one of her swords up and kissed the black glass. She barely felt it.

Yet she was armed, and well prepared.

Cinder walked out from behind the bins and strode towards the mouth of the alley.

Her destiny awaited.
 
Chapter 56 - Death or Glory
Death or Glory


Blake's voice crackled into Rainbow's ear. "Cinder's here."

Rainbow's eyes widened. She covered her ear with one hand. "Blake, are you sure?"

"Quite sure," Blake said, her voice dispassionate, calm. Almost eerily calm, in the circumstances. "I'm moving to engage now."

"W—" Rainbow bit back her instinct to tell Blake to hold off, wait for … backup, or something. But there wasn't any backup coming, that wasn't part of the plan they had made; the plan they had made called for Blake to fight alone, for now at least, while the others got Amber away.

Just as the plan called for Rainbow to stay up here and exercise command, in the face of all her instincts screaming at her to get down there and help Blake.

She had to have faith. She had to believe that Blake could manage this.

She did have faith. Blake could manage this.

Hopefully.

"Don't get yourself killed out there," Rainbow muttered.

"'Killed'?" Rarity repeated from where she stood at Rainbow's side. "Darling, what—?"

Rainbow held up one hand to quiet her. She needed to concentrate for this. "All units: abort, abort, abort. Yang, roll in. Twilight, head to the rendezvous point. Midnight, are you okay on the gun?"

"Locked and loaded, Rainbow Dash," came the reply from Midnight.

"Inbound now," said Twilight.

"Rolling in," announced Yang. "Sunset, Pyrrha, get her ready for me."

"Got it," Sunset said. "We're moving now. Amber, come on, we have to go!" There was a pause. "Because—"

"Sunset, clear the comm!" snapped Rainbow Dash.

There was no response, but Rainbow couldn't hear any more of Sunset explaining to Amber what was up either, so she took that as a sign that Sunset had put herself on mute.

"Rainbow Dash, what is—?" began Rarity.

"Not now!" Rainbow said sharply.

"Give her a minute, sugarcube," murmured Applejack. "I think she's kinda busy."

Rainbow ignored them both — for now — as she scanned the street below her, sweeping down it until she found Blake — and Cinder.

Cinder had emerged — or so it seemed — from out of one of the side alleys, her glass swords in her hands, and now, she began to rush up the wide thoroughfare in Amber's direction, shoving people aside as she went, but only shoving them. Rainbow had to admit she was surprised by that; she would have expected Cinder to just cut them down if they got in her way, and she had her blades out already after all, but she seemed to be using her shoulders rather than her swords.

And anyway, a lot of people were getting out of her way, scrambling to either side of the road or just running in the opposite direction to her; the sound of the carnival floating up to the top of the Liver Building was becoming twisted with the discordant fearful shouting of those who could see Cinder and — whether they recognised her face or not — understood that she was someone they should have nothing to do with.

The flames that were burning out of the sides of one eye — what the hell? Seriously, what the hell? — was a pretty good indicator of that. A few people — a few idiots – were filming her on their scrolls, but most people had more sense and were putting as much distance between her and them as possible.

Of course, there was one faunus whose sense could be debated who was heading straight for her.

Blake rushed towards Cinder, Gambol Shroud in sword form held on one hand, her cleaver scabbard in the other, both arms pumping up and down as she cut through the parting crowd like a gallant ship through the waves.

"Ciel, Ruby," Rainbow said, "do either of you have a shot?"

"Not yet," replied Ruby.

"Affirmative," came the response from Ciel.

The sharp, snapping sound of Ciel's rifle echoed off the tall buildings as though she were a multitude of snipers; but the first thing that Cinder probably knew about Ciel firing on her was when the first shot slammed into her back.

Ciel was using ice dust rounds. They had agreed that beforehand as a crowd safety thing. Rainbow and Pyrrha had both seen Cinder block bullets, after all, and nobody wanted a round deflected — if she did deflect them; none of them were entirely sure what Cinder was doing to block shots — into the crowd to kill somebody. Ice dust was non-lethal, but it could still make it very hard to move around if it got you.

And so, Ciel's first shot pitched Cinder off her feet, hurling her forwards, with a patch of ice blossoming on her back, spikes of pale ice like the bone spurs on a grimm growing as though they were erupting out of her.

The next two shots hit her in the feet before she could get up, encasing Cinder's feet and ankles in rugged lumps of ice.

"Great shooting, Ciel," Rainbow cried. "Now get her, Blake!"

XxXxX​

Cinder was there. She was right there.

Blake wasn't sure exactly when she'd emerged into view — her eyes were sharp, and she knew what she was looking for, but there were so many people around at this carnival that she couldn't see everything all of the time — but one moment, the coast had appeared to be clear of danger, and the next…

The next moment, Cinder was standing there, in the middle of the revelling crowd, as if she had shimmered into view, teleported like Sunset into the middle of the street.

It was extraordinary. So extraordinary that Blake didn't believe, couldn't comprehend it for a second; she just stood there, dumbly, staring at Cinder.

Nobody else seemed to have noticed Cinder either. Although she stood there with her glass scimitars in her hands, held down beside her, the points directed towards the ground, in spite of that, nobody seemed to realise or care or recognise that this was Cinder Fall, wanted criminal.

The carnival continued on around her, with drums beating and horns and trumpets being played somewhere in the procession and everybody dancing with gay abandon, arms waving, feet tapping.

The street was a riot of colour, whirling skirts and feathers and sequins galore, and in the midst of it all, obscured for a moment by a girl in a canary yellow dress who twirled in front of her, but standing right there when the dancer had passed, stood Cinder Fall.

Barring the swords, in her red dress with the fine gold threadwork, she actually fit in rather well; probably, that was why the blades themselves — and Cinder's wanted status — had gone unnoticed.

She looked right at Blake and smiled.

Yellow flames erupted from the corner of one eye.

Magic. That's what Pyrrha saw when Cinder used the stolen maiden powers.

Cinder let out a great roar, like a lion that has trespassed into the territory of a settled pride issuing challenge to the old male who rules that particular rock, to let them know that a younger, stronger, hungrier rival has come to claim the land and all its bounty for himself. Just so did Cinder roar out her anger, drawing the attention of everyone around her.

Now, people took notice, and they began to move away, scrambling back from this woman with the mysterious flames coming out of her eyes.

They didn't move fast enough for Cinder, who began to push them away, shoving into them with her shoulders while yelling, "Move! Move! Out of my way!"

Blake drew Gambol Shroud — in sword mode — over her shoulder. She pressed her free hand to her ear. "Cinder's here!"

"Blake, are you sure?" Rainbow responded; the earpiece made her voice a little crackly, but Blake could hear the concern there clearly enough regardless.

"Quite sure," Blake said, and she was almost surprised by how calm she sounded — how calm she felt. Now that the initial shock of Cinder's appearance had worn off, dispelled by Cinder's own movements, it was … well, it was what they had prepared for, wasn't it?

She did not feel afraid. She did not feel alarmed. This was a possibility, this was the reason she was here. This was … in the bluntest terms, this was the job, wasn't it?

"I'm moving to engage now," Blake added, taking her hand off her ear and pulling her scabbard-cleaver over her free shoulder.

"Don't get yourself killed out there," Rainbow muttered in response, and Blake appreciated Rainbow restricting herself to saying that, and only that. It must have been very hard for her.

I'll try not to, Blake thought, but had no time to say that because she was moving now, moving towards Cinder, trying to find a way towards her through the crowds that were panicked, moving in this direction and that, milling around in front of her, filling the space between her and Cinder.

Cinder was moving in her direction, yes, but not straight towards her; her target was not Blake but Amber, after all, and if she could reach Amber while avoiding Blake she would no doubt do it.

And so Blake had to get through the crowd to intercept her just as Cinder needed to get through the crowd to reach Amber.

And Blake had to do it without quite so much violent shoving — she was supposed to be the good guy, after all.

Although Cinder could be doing a lot worse than shoving.

A part of her wondered why Cinder hadn't started hacking through the crowd with her swords, as she no doubt could have; but it was not so great a concern that it occupied much of her attention. It didn't change what she had to do.

What she had to do was get to Cinder.

Her semblance was a help in that regard, she left clones behind her while she slipped through gaps in the crowd as though she was teleporting, but the need to preserve her aura for the actual fight meant that she used her semblance only when she had no choice, for the rest she slipped physically through what gaps she could find, she leapt over people here and there, and as the crowd began to thin out in response to Cinder's presence then Blake just ran, running as the ocean of carnival-goers became more of a Shallow Sea.

Blake's legs pounded on the roadway like a heart far less calm than her own, her arms pumping up and down.

Cinder pitched forward. Blake hadn't heard a shot fired, but Ciel had warned that they might not hear the shot until after they saw the round strike, with this new rifle she'd be using, and it was clear that Cinder had been shot, what with the spikes of ice that were rising up on her back, that looked a little as though they were coming out of her back.

Cinder was hit again as she lay on the ground, lumps of ice enclosing her feet and ankles before she could get up.

They would only hold her for a moment.

A moment was all Blake required to get the first strike.

Blake leapt upwards, her long, wild hair flying out behind her as she closed the distance between her and Cinder, descending upon her with sword and cleaver alike drawn back for a slashing stroke.

XxXxX​

Cinder didn't hear the shot that hit her in the back.

If she had heard it then it might not have mattered — she probably would have been too late to turn and block it — but she would never find out because she did not hear the shot that hit her.

At least, not until after she'd been shoved onto the ground with her face in the tarmac. Then she heard the shot.

But by that point one might say that it was a little late.

Cinder pushed herself up onto her knees and found herself shivering. Shivering and feeling a heavy weight upon her back, a chill weight.

Ice dust, of course.

Ruby - or that Atlesian girl, what's her name… I can't remember, but the one with the large rifle - wouldn't want to blow the head off some innocent bystander, would she? No, that would never do.

So they're using ice dust, just to make sure nobody gets hurt.

Very noble, but if they think that will stop me—


Two more shots hit her on her glass slippers, less notable for the damage they did to her aura than to the way that they caused mounds of ice to erupt outwards from the point of impact, spreading out to engulf her feet and ankles, sticking them to the road.

Cinder pursed her lips together.

I'm coming very close to feeling insulted.

She consoled herself with the thought that they didn't expect for it to hold her indefinitely, just long enough for the rapidly approaching Blake Belladonna to get a few hits in before Cinder could respond.

Possibly it had been a mistake to loudly roar out her presence as she had, and so alert the enemy to her presence. But, well, she had wanted to alert her enemies to her presence.

What was the point of going out to find a desperate battle against your destined opponents in the middle of a crowded public place with power and fortune's favour on the line if you weren't allowed to make a dramatic entrance?

And besides, Cinder was less impressed with Blake than the Atlesians seemed to be.

Blake descended on her like a thunderbolt — but Cinder was the one with power over the lightning.

She had the Maiden's magic ready at her command; she had prepared it for the way it looked upon her eyes, for the way the fire would intimidate the crowds and drive them from her path — and in case she needed to use the magic to remove any brave obstacles from out of her way.

As Blake fell on her, Cinder clasped her hands together above her heart, looking almost as though she were in prayer, hiding the flames in the palms of her hands. Then, just before Blake struck home, Cinder swept both her arms out in front of her, unleashing a wave of magical flame that caught Blake in mid-air.

Blake used a clone to escape, but no matter, for wherever she was, she did not strike Cinder.

Cinder used her own semblance to melt the ice on her back, even as she shattered the ice that sought to bind her to the road as she rose to her feet with a growl.

The crowd had thinned enough for her to make out Amber, surrounded by Sunset and Pyrrha. They looked small to her — from a distance, not from her failing eyesight; that seemed to mainly affect reading and screens — like her…

Like her glass menagerie that Phoebe had destroyed.

Cinder shook her head, ridding herself of the thought, the memory. She had killed Phoebe, would that she had killed those memories along with her and put them in the grave — or on the pyre.

Amber was there. Amber was before her, and Sunset and Pyrrha too. Sunset and Pyrrha and the others, who seemed to be trying to hustle Amber off the stage. Did they have some escape planned for her?

Cinder began to run. The moonlight glinted off her obsidian blades as she ran for Amber.

This was the hour of fate. This was the death or glory moment, as in the old tales when the rebels sighted the Emperor's banner across the field and knew that now was the moment to risk everything on a single charge for death or glory.

For death or glory!

I am resolved this night to conquer all or perish.

She would reach them. She would reach them. She would reach Amber and her protectors, and she would not let Blake or Ruby or Tempest Shadow stand in her way.

She was hit again, again without hearing the shot until it was too late, and again, the ice encased her foot and stuck her to the road.

Cinder bit back a curse as she freed herself, using a combination of semblance and sheer brute force to break and melt the ice in equal measure.

No sooner had she done so than her other foot was frozen.

A third shot hit her on the thigh; whatever kind of gun they were using was sufficiently small that it didn't do much to her aura, but as more ice spread out across her upper leg, making Cinder shiver from the cold, it was both intensely irritating and a delay that she could hardly afford.

Especially with Blake once more closing the distance with her. Even after what Cinder had done the last time, still Blake threw herself on Cinder with reckless abandon.

Cinder let her come on, making for the moment no effort to free herself from the ice that bound her to the road — she would simply have been shot and stuck again — waiting until she was close enough to reach out with a thrust of the sword in her right hand.

Another clone popped like a balloon, dissipating into shadow and smoke even as the real Blake appeared behind Cinder.

Cinder shattered the ice that trapped her as she turned as swift as the mood of a wicked stepsister, rounding on Blake to parry her first stroke, and her second, then countering with a slash that dissolved another clone of Blake.

Blake was at her side, hair flying out behind her as she charged with a furious flurry of blows.

Cinder withstood them all, standing like a mountain before the howling wind, parrying sword and cleaver both, the metal ringing off the glass as black swords clashed, but every parry, every stroke, every time that she struck Blake only for it to turn into a clone as the real Blake attacked from another direction, every moment was a moment that she could ill afford.

Cinder turned Blake's stroke aside with one sword, then slashed at her in turn with another, dispelling yet another clone — did she never feel ashamed of the way she overused these wretched things? — and giving Cinder time and breathing room to call upon her magic.

She conjured up a wind, a great cyclone blowing all around, circling her while she stood safe in the eye of the storm. The wind was wall and moat to her, Blake could not break through it, and the rounds of the sniper, whoever they might be, would be whipped away — so it was a good thing they were only using ice dust.

While she was within the winds that lashed at her face, grabbed at her hair and disturbed its careful arrangement, she was safe.

She was also immobilised and half blind, and while she stood in the wind, Amber was being ushered stage left, exeunt Amber, Sunset, Pyrrha, and the rest.

But then, she didn't intend to stay here forever.

Cinder's glass scimitars dissolved in her hands, reforming into a single long, thin spear, too long and unwieldy to use against Blake, but hopefully long enough for her purposes.

Cinder reversed the blade and drove it downwards into the road beneath her feet, piercing the tarmac as she pierced the breast of Phoebe—

Cinder grunted with irritation at the intrusion onto her thoughts. She drove the spear down into the road, burying more and more of the glass beneath the tarmac.

This would either work, or she would hit a power line and cause a blackout.

She felt, just about, the tip of her spear touch something, something hard, possibly metallic.

Cinder smiled as she stabbed down deeper, piercing the metal with the tip of her obsidian spear.

She let the winds die down around her as the tarmac in front of her was torn apart by the onrushing water from out of the damaged pipe, water that rushed upwards like a geyser in the Amity Colosseum, cracking the road surface round about and leaping up into the air between Cinder and the sniper, completely concealing her from whichever sniper with the quiet gun had been making a nuisance of herself hitherto.

Cinder noticed that small patches of water were temporarily freezing and guessed that the sniper was trying to freeze the waterspout solid as a preface to shattering it, but the gush of water was too great, it was always renewing itself, whatever they managed to freeze was swept away again in no time at all.

And so, as the drops of water fell from the gushing geyser to pitter patter down upon Cinder's face — would that she had been able to feel the damp upon her skin — Cinder turned and ran for Amber.

She was not too late.

She would not be too late.

XxXxX​

"I have lost her," Ciel said, her voice clipped with disappointment.

Rainbow cursed under her breath. "The water spout?"

"Affirmative," Ciel replied. "I no longer have a visual on the target."

Rainbow reflected that one of the disadvantages of sticking one of their snipers on top of one of the tallest buildings in Vale was that it was very difficult for her to redeploy if, well, if something like that happened.

She thought about flying over there to carry Ciel back here — the Wings of Harmony were rated to take that much weight, just about — but she needed to be ready to escort Yang and Amber to the rendezvous with Twilight.

"Ruby, Ciel just lost sight of Cinder; please tell me that you have a shot."

"I can see her," Ruby said. "But ice dust didn't seem to do much to her when Ciel was shooting."

"Copy that," Rainbow replied. Unfortunately, she was right about that, but on the other hand, when Cinder had created that tornado all around her — so that was Maiden magic, huh? — she had kind of proven them right in deciding to use the ice dust rounds in the first place. As of right now, some poor guy who had just come out to have a fun night at the carnival had half his body encased in ice like he was a cartoon character. If Ciel had been firing standard rounds, then he'd be dead right now.

"But remember," Rainbow said, "we don't need to take Cinder out; we just need to delay her long enough for Amber to get away, and the ice dust did slow her down."

"But even once Amber does get away, we still need to deal with Cinder afterwards," Ruby pointed out.

"Once Amber's gone, she'll retreat," Sunset interjected over the line. "What's the point in her staying to fight it out?"

"I don't know," Ruby admitted, "but what if she doesn't retreat?"

"Then this will end tonight," Rainbow declared, "but until then, keep going with the ice dust rounds; anything else risks civilian casualties." She paused. "If you really think that it's having no effect, then you can descend to street level and rejoin the rest of Team Sapphire."

She thought that she heard Sunset suck a breath inwards when she heard that, but the other team leader didn't challenge her authority on the matter.

You need to take the leash off, Sunset, or she's going to chew through it the same as Penny.

I mean, I get it, don't get me wrong, but what you need to get is that she hates it. Not everyone can stand to be treated the way I treat my friends.


"Yes!" Ruby said. "Copy that."

"That's only if you think that sniper fire is having no effect," Rainbow warned. "Blake could use some cover out there."

"Right," Ruby said. "Roger. Affir—"

"Yeah, I get it, don't worry," Rainbow told her. "Yang, where are you?"

"I'm on my way," Yang said. "Not much longer."

"Good," Rainbow said. "Sunset, how's it looking down there?"

"It looks like Cinder's coming right at us, but as long as Yang gets here soon, then Amber will be fine," Sunset said, although her voice trembled a little. "But I don't know about you, but I think that Cinder has found the weakness in Blake's semblance."

Rainbow frowned. "Blake's semblance doesn't have a weakness."

"That's what I thought too," Sunset said. "I think we were wrong."

XxXxX​

In every epic, in every great poem of heroes and battle, there was the aristeia, the moment of the hero's greatest process and glory when they transcended all other warriors upon the battlefield.

Cinder would not have said that this was her moment of transcendental prowess — although hopefully, that would come very, very soon, considering how close at hand were her real enemies — but she was put in mind of it as she made her charge down the boulevard because the aristeia most frequently took the form of a laundry list of enemies cut down, one after the other, in an unstoppable harvest home of death.

Aura made it nigh impossible to match the conventions of epic poetry amongst skilled opponents, but as Cinder cut down yet another of Blake's clones as she surged onward, ever onward towards Amber, it occurred to her that this was the closest to the traditional aristeia that she was likely to get in her life.

And then blazing Cinder, full of furor, smote a clone of Blake Belladonna on the breast. Yet another clone swung her black sword towards her, but swift-footed Cinder cut her down all the same. Then it was the turn of Blake's clone again, because this woman has no other ideas.

No. No, it wasn't really working, was it?

Blake's semblance was a blessing on her. It was no wonder, much as Cinder might sneer internally, why she made such use of it.

It had a weakness, though; not a weakness to Blake herself, true, but a weakness nonetheless: it could only protect Blake.

If Cinder had been trying to strike Blake down and send her soul fleeing in anger to the shades, then Blake's semblance would have been unparalleled; even with her magic, Cinder could hardly have hit her without some great good fortune or Blake's aura running out.

But Cinder didn't want to kill Blake Belladonna; Cinder, at this point, could not care less: let her go to Atlas, let her freeze off her feline ears, let her waste her life trying to fix the proud northmen as she had tried and failed to fix Adam Taurus. Cinder cared not and cared nothing for her, one way or the other.

Her business was with Amber, with Sunset, and with Pyrrha, and she would allow nothing to stand in her way.

And standing in the way was not something that Blake's semblance was very good at.

Every time Blake burned a clone to spare herself, every time she left a substitute in her place to take the blow that was meant for her, every time she vanished and left shadow and smoke behind, she only allowed Cinder to move forward.

Clones could not hinder her, no more than could the air itself.

Which was not to say that Blake didn't try; she left earth clones behind, stone statues of herself planted athwart Cinder's path, but Cinder hacked them into shards and fragments with a single swing of her obsidian blades. She left fire clones that exploded, engulfing Cinder in the flames — but Cinder was fire in ways that Blake and her tricks with dust could never dream of, and she passed through the flames taking no hurt from them, nor even damage to her aura.

And Blake used ice, just as their other sniper was doing now, to try and trap her, or slow her at least.

But Cinder would not be stopped. She would not be stayed. At this time, in this moment, this once, she would keep moving forward, physically at least, and none would withstand her progress. Ice dissolved within the heat of her flames or shattered before her strength.

At one point, they must have thought they had her, when Cinder threw herself recklessly forward against what turned out to be an ice clone. Cinder had thought to physically bull the false Blake aside, but the clone dissolved into ice, which erupted in all directions, enclosing her entire body.

Their second sniper started shooting, each round adding more ice to that which encrusted her like barnacles.

Blake did likewise, her sword transforming into its pistol form as she, too, piled ice upon ice as it seemed to imprison Cinder within an iceberg large enough to sink ships.

But tonight, there was no iceberg large enough in all of Remnant to sink her ambitions, not while the magic of half a Maiden remained to her. The ice began to glow as Cinder conjured the firestorm from her hands, magic and her semblance working together as her icy prison began to glow from within like a dirty lantern. Blake and the sniper piled ice on ice, but it was not enough to stop the heat that roared from Cinder.

The flames that would set her free, just as they always had.

Fire had been her servant then, at the beginning of her journey, and so it was again, devouring the ice, melting so much within that the outer shell shattered before the wind that Cinder conjured, the wind that picked up Blake and tossed her aside even as she was showered with icy fragments.

Cinder paid her no more mind as she ran on, flew on; flames leapt from the palms of her hands and beneath the soles of her glass slippers and sent her flying forward as if on rockets, gliding along the surface of the road.

Tempest tried to stop her, literally placing herself athwart Cinder's path, but as much as Cinder might have relished the chance to kill Tempest in different circumstances, that would come later, if it came at all. Right now, she had no time for her.

And so she simply did not stop, flying right into Tempest, enduring the blow of Tempest's staff, enduring the damage to her aura as a small price to pay as she bore Tempest backwards before her inexorable assault, grappling with Salem's servant — Cinder, it seemed, had been stripped of that title — and throwing her away with a burst of fire to the gut for good measure.

It may be that we will meet again, but for now, you interest me as little as a gnat.

Blake, also — she was still going? Perhaps Cinder could see why the Atlesians so admired her and why Adam had been so drawn to her — made another attempt to hinder Cinder, casting her hook on its silk ribbon like a fisherman casting his line, trying to catch Cinder like a fat river trout.

But Cinder was moving too quickly; she had left Blake behind: her hook fell short and fruitlessly struck the tarmac of the road.

Amber was growing larger and larger in Cinder's eyes, as Sunset and Pyrrha and the rest made ready to defend her.

She was almost there.

It was almost over.

XxXxX​

Amber was terrified — and not a little incensed.

The terror was obvious, and it was the main part of her mind and heart as she watched Cinder fly towards her with Amber's own magic that she had stolen from her, intent on taking the rest — and Amber's life.

Honestly, when the word had first come from Blake that she had spotted Cinder, when Rainbow Dash had given the abort signal, Amber had not been that concerned. In fact, she thought that it had probably baffled Sunset and Pyrrha and the others how little concern she had shown for the fact, even as they — and Jaune and Penny — had begun to hustle her away to meet with Yang.

She thought that Dove, whose hands had been shaking and who had clearly been missing the absence of his sword, had been more worried than she was.

She had played it off as being because of them, flattering Sunset — Sunset was a dear, but she was also a proud dear, who liked to be admired and respected by others — by suggesting that she felt safe in her presence.

It wasn't even a lie, not really; she did feel safe with Sunset and Pyrrha, and Jaune and Penny too, and with Ruby and Ciel watching over her.

But it wasn't the only — perhaps not even the greatest — reason why she had felt little fear, even hearing that Cinder had come for her.

She had felt unconcerned because she had made an agreement with Bon Bon, with Tempest Shadow, with Salem herself. She had promised them the Crown of Choice, and in return, she would be safe, she would be protected, Cinder would not be permitted to come near her.

It was obvious that Cinder did not feel bound by this in any way, shape, or form.

It was also obvious, and far more shocking to Amber, that there seemed to be no way of restraining her.

And so now, with Yang not yet in sight, if she was coming at all, Amber watching Cinder fly through the air towards her, passing between crowds of people who were either trying to get as far away as they could or else treating this whole thing as though it were as entertaining as the great tournament, holding up their scrolls to film or cheering and shouting as though this wasn't life or death being played out before their eyes.

Amber watched Cinder fly towards her, the woman who had stolen her magic, the one who had almost killed her, the one who had plunged some grimm monstrosity into her body, scarred her beautiful face, Amber watched her come to finish what she had started.

She had bested Amber when Amber was a Maiden and Cinder was nothing; now, Cinder was half a Maiden, the same as Amber was, so what chance did Amber have in the rematch that Cinder was so eagerly pursuing?

She had gotten past Blake, she had gotten past Ciel; Ruby had descended from her lofty perch, shooting on her way down to slow her descent before racing to the side of her teammates in a burst of rose petals, and now, she stood with Sunset, Pyrrha, Jaune, and Penny as Cinder flew towards them.

Now … now Amber was starting to worry.

Amber was starting to do more than worry.

Cinder looked even more terrifying than she seemed in Amber's nightmares. When Amber dreamt of her face, when it loomed in her imagination, when it appeared reflected in the mirror, it didn't have the flames burning out of her eyes, the flames of the stolen magic, the flames of the power that made her unstoppable.

She had been terrible already, and now … now, she seemed irresistible.

What a fool she had been, to think that this situation might work to her advantage, to think that she might be able to somehow bring about Cinder's death and the lifting of her greatest fear.

She had been a foolish little girl who played with fire, and now, she would burn for it.

Such were the fears that thudded through Amber's heart as she took a stumbling step backwards, into Dove's arms.

Her heart was thudding too, thumping hard in her chest as though she had run without aura up many flights of stairs, all the way to the top of Ozpin's enormous tower.

"It will be alright, Amber," Dove promised, although he would have sounded a lot more reassuring if his voice hadn't stopped shaking. "I swear, I'll protect you. I won't let her hurt you again."

No, Dove, you can't protect me. Not from her.

And as much to the point, he shouldn't have had to, shouldn't have had to try, shouldn't have had to even consider it. This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

It wasn't supposed to be this way!

They were supposed to take care of her! For once, Amber's anger was not directed at Ozpin but at his enemies. They had promised! They had told her that so long as she did what they wanted, gave them what they wanted, then they would guarantee her safety! Well, her safety didn't feel very guaranteed at the moment!

Tempest had made a half-hearted effort to get in Cinder's way and been swatted aside for it; it was pathetic! Was Cinder the only one who was actually worth fearing?

No, no, that wasn't true; Salem was worth fearing, if only for the fact that she would never die and would keep sending more and more killers after Amber until she got her crown, but even so, she didn't seem nearly as frightening as Cinder did at this particular moment.

This was not at all what Amber had been led to believe would happen.

It was enough to make her wonder if she had made a mistake.

Sunset had one hand out, firing green bolts of her own magic from her fingertips. They all flew straight and true — at least, they did for most of the way, but as they approached Cinder, she held out her hands in front of her, and Sunset's magic veered away, shooting off to hit the buildings on either side of the street.

Sunset bared her teeth and growled wordlessly.

"I do hope nobody got hurt by that," Pyrrha murmured.

"Don't worry; I'm controlling my power level for that reason," Sunset replied.

"But how's she deflecting your shots?" asked Ruby.

"I think she's using convection currents; the hot air is bending the light trajectory," Sunset explained. "She'll do the same to Penny's lasers."

"Then it will come to swords then," Pyrrha declared as she stepped in front of Amber. "Whether Yang arrives in time or not, it seems a battle is inevitable."

"You … you're going to fight her?" Amber demanded. "No!"

The word leapt from her mouth because this hadn't been what she had wanted or intended, not at all. She hadn't just made her deal with Salem for her own sake, no, but for them too, so that they wouldn't have to fight a battle like this! Now that the battle had come upon them … this had been what she wanted to avoid; this had been everything that she wanted to avoid.

"I swore to protect you," Pyrrha said. "Do you not recall?"

Yes, Amber recalled; she recalled only too well, that was the problem. "But I didn't … I don't…"

She could not let this happen. She could not let them fight this battle, fight this monster, she could not … she didn't want to see them die, so brave and kind and … they didn't deserve this; it wasn't right!

I only wanted to save them.

But I can't even save myself.


Perhaps … perhaps realising that she couldn't save herself … perhaps it was the only way to save them.

She didn't want to die. She wanted to live with Dove. But she didn't want to watch Pyrrha die either, or Sunset, or any of them. Sunset had saved her life, and had been so solicitous of her well-being and desires, and Pyrrha was in love with Jaune, and they had both brought Dove back to her. They had defended her from Ozpin. They had all, all been so very good to her, and now…

Amber clasped her hands together over heart.

She ought to take a step forward. She ought to step in front of Pyrrha.

She ought to…

She ought to…

But her leg felt so heavy.

Let me be brave.

Please, let me be brave.


Amber took one step forward. Could she take another? Would her legs permit? Could she step forward so that it was she who stood in front of Pyrrha and not the other way around?

"I've got an idea," said Sunset.

XxXxX​

It was not a very good idea. It wasn't an idea that Sunset would have considered in many other circumstances, but, well … they were going to have to fight Cinder anyway; at least this way, they could go all out without having to worry about accidentally killing anyone with a stray shot.

"Please," Pyrrha murmured. "Don't leave us in suspense."

Sunset licked her lips, because this wasn't the best plan she'd ever come up with, and it would ask a lot of Pyrrha in particular.

"Penny," she said. "Stay with Amber and Dove until Yang gets here. I … am going to throw up an inverted shield that will trap Cinder inside of it with the four of us."

"Why not just trap Cinder in the shield?" asked Ruby.

"Because she might get out," Sunset said. "She'll probably get out, with the power we've seen from her, but with—"

"With us fighting her, she won't be able to, and Amber can get away!" Ruby cried, catching on. "That's—"

"Not ideal," Sunset said. "But the shield won't just stop Cinder from leaving; it will mean that we can shoot as much as we like and use as much dust as we want and basically blow up the road underneath our feet if we want to, and we won't hurt anyone who hasn't gotten away yet. Run, all of you!" she yelled at the idiots who still hadn't gotten away yet. "This isn't a movie set! This is real; it's dangerous! Put your scrolls away!"

Nobody took a blind bit of notice. They just turned their scrolls on her in order to film her outburst.

Sunset rolled her eyes. Of course, Cinder would be free to use all of her power as well once inside the shield, but then, there was nothing stopping her at the moment — except for the fact that she had been somewhat careful so far; as far as Sunset could tell, the worst she'd done to any noncombatants was push them out of her way.

Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?

Sunset dismissed the irrelevant question and turned her gaze on Pyrrha. "But, once the shield is up, it's going to be most of what I can do to keep it up, especially if it has bullets and fireballs slamming into it. I won't be able to help much, which means that you'll have to do a lot of the heavy lifting against Cinder herself. Are you…? Just tell me if it's not possible, and we'll—"

"It is possible," Pyrrha declared, softly enough but in a declaratory tone regardless.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "Are you sure?"

"I know not the final outcome," Pyrrha said, "but if I could not, with Jaune and Ruby's help and whatever small assistance you are yet able to render, delay her long enough for Yang to reach us and be off again, I would be shamed indeed before you all … and before the eyes of Vale which are turned upon us no less than in the colosseum."

"I don't…" Amber murmured. "I don't want you to—"

"That is kind of you, Amber, but in this, I fear that your desires are of little consequence," Pyrrha murmured. "We promised to protect you."

"And anyway, this is kind of what huntresses do regardless," Ruby added.

"I want to help you too!" Penny cried. "Why can't Dove stay with Amber?"

"Because Dove can't fight as well as you can," Sunset said, ignoring the way that Dove kind of glared at her, squinting his eyes. "He isn't even armed."

"But that won't matter since Cinder will be in there with you," Penny pointed out.

Sunset considered that for a fraction of a second. "Welcome aboard, Penny," she said. "Glad to have you with us. Amber, Dove, back off."

"But—" Amber began.

"Trust us, Amber," Ruby said. "We've got this."

Amber opened her mouth, but no more words came out. She bit her lip and allowed Dove to lead her backwards, away from them.

The five of them stood in a rough line: Team SAPR and Penny.

Sunset was glad that Penny was with them; with Sunset half out of it, they could use the help.

"Is everyone ready?" she asked.

"Ready," Pyrrha declared, holding Akoúo̱ before her, Miló in spear form drawn back ready to strike.

"Ready," Ruby said, slamming a magazine of lighting dust rounds into Crescent Rose.

Jaune took a deep breath. "Ready," he said. "After all, it's five … four and a … three and two bits against one."

Penny began. "Who is the—?"

"Don't sell yourself short, Jaune," Pyrrha and Sunset said almost together, with Pyrrha a little ahead.

"Anyway, are you ready, Penny?"

The blades of Floating Array emerged out of Penny's back to form a metal halo around her head. "I'm combat ready," she declared.

"Okay then," Sunset said. She cricked her neck for a second. "Let's do this."

She didn't do anything at first, not yet; she waited just a little longer, for Cinder to get closer, closer, for her to get close enough that Sunset wouldn't need an absurdly large shield to enclose her and the five of them within it.

Cinder flew towards them, flitting a little this way and a little that, seeming to try and angle herself so that she would pass between them and be on Amber before they could respond.

Unfortunately, Cinder…

As Cinder drew close, Sunset raised her left hand skywards, as if she meant to grasp the moon and lift it out of its sphere, leaving only the shattered fragments to hang suspended in the night sky.

Her elevated hand glowed with magic as she conjured up a shield, a dome of energy that encompassed Team SAPR, Penny, and Cinder Fall, enclosing them off from the rest of the world beyond.

XxXxX​

Cinder flew into Sunset's barrier; she was moving too swiftly to stop before she struck it.

She could not say that it was like running into any sort of wall, because unlike most walls, this magical barrier didn't shatter upon impact with her.

It did, on the other hand, ache a little bit. She had thrown up her hands and forearms at the last moment, but they still ached. She could feel the throbbing pulsing through her aura.

Cinder's slippers chinked gently upon the ground as she stepped backwards.

Amber stood before her, on the wrong side of the shield. Out of her reach.

For now.

Cinder drew back her hand, flames leaping to her palm.

Crescent Rose roared. Cinder turned, spinning on the toe of one glass slipper, holding up her hand to deflect the shot.

"I take it that wasn't an ice dust round," Cinder drawled.

"No," Ruby said, in a voice as hard as the barrier that Cinder had just slammed into. "It wasn't."

Cinder smirked, one corner of her lip turning upwards. "So, you trapped me in here with you not only to protect Amber from me, but to protect the people out there from your own strength?"

"Well, since we are all here, battle does seem the logical next step," Pyrrha said softly. "Unless you would care to surrender?"

Cinder laughed. "Careful, Pyrrha," she said. "That is almost an insult."

She turned her gaze and her attention upon Sunset, standing with her hand still raised, her hand still wreathed in her own unique magic. How much more than that could she do? Was she now rendered immobile, useless by the need to keep the shield up?

Cinder took a step towards her. Pyrrha moved swiftly to bar her way.

So, she is defenceless, or at least, they fear she is.

"I don't want to hurt you, Sunset," Cinder said. "I really, truly don't."

"Then don't," Sunset replied. "We don't have to fight, if you don't want to."

"I don't want to," Cinder said.

"You know what I meant," Sunset said.

"Yes," Cinder acknowledged. "I know what you meant."

She glanced at Amber, hiding outside of the shield, cowering, letting Sunset and the others do the fighting for her.

Perhaps I should be glad that I put so much fear in her.

Although the means by which I did it were hardly worthy of me.

I could tell them what you've done, Amber. I could tell them right now that you've betrayed them, that Tempest Shadow put herself in my path because she is an agent of Salem and you have sold them out to Salem to save your own life.

But I won't. I won't because they wouldn't believe me anyway, and because…

Because I want this. I want this battle. I want them to fight me, though it costs me you and your power, though it costs me my life, though it costs me everything, I want this.

If this is the final battle, then I am content with that.


People were watching her. She had wondered how to achieve that, how to get the audience that she desired, and now, she had it. Here she was, facing Pyrrha and all her foes, with a great crowd watching, with them filming her.

It was not quite as she had imagined, it was not a single combat that would allow her to kill Pyrrha — or try to — before an enraged Sunset took her life in turn, it was not everything that she had planned for, and quite frankly, she would have rather that the rambunctious Atlas girl not been here for this, but, with that said, it was not at all displeasing to her humour.

Even if Amber were to escape, as it seemed likely that she would — no doubt, someone was coming to sweep her off at this very moment — then, well … Cinder had come to the point where she had little use of becoming the Fall Maiden.

The battle had come upon her, and she had power enough to see it through, or fall yielding glory to her foes.

I would wish that Sunset were in a position to fight and take her share of the glory, but never mind. I'm sure her part will be recognised nonetheless.

Cinder took a deep breath, taking a step backwards as she called upon her magic, letting the flames spout from her eyes.

"I hope you don't expect me to hold back this time, Pyrrha," she said, looking towards Mistral's Evenstar. "After all, what was honourable restraint in a single combat would become mere folly now that you've got me outnumbered…" She smiled. "Three and a bit to one."

"Four to one, at least," Pyrrha declared. "And, as you know, I found your prior restraint … somewhat insulting. Use whatever power you may, as shall we."

Cinder bowed her head in acknowledgement. She looked around, at the enemies who surrounded her, all poised to strike. It was really very good of them to wait upon her thus, very noble, very heroic.

Very decent.

She cast one last glance at Amber, the Fall Maiden beyond her reach. Cinder favoured her with a smile.

Let that be your last memory of me, the gleeful smile. Let them whisk you off to safety before you see me cut down.

Cinder opened her eyes, holding her obsidian blades which did the night resemble out on either side of her.

Now, gods, stand up for knaves.

"I think I'm ready for my close up now," she said.

And yet, for a moment longer, no one moved. All was frozen into stillness, as though Sunset's barrier was not just enclosing them but holding them as if in … as in amber.

They were frozen in a tableaux, perpetually on the verge of battle but not yet engaged.

They stared at one another, all their eyes narrowing as each waited for another — someone, anyone — to make the first move.

Cinder was the first to move, charging towards Pyrrha like a tiger, keeping her body low, her black blades held out on either side of her, swept back until she drove them both forwards in a thrust at her opponent.

Pyrrha took the blow upon her shield, bending her knees and getting lower to the ground. The black blades struck the gilded shield, and as they did so, both of Midnight's blades shattered into shards of glass as though they had no aura of Cinder's to strengthen them at all.

Cinder grinned savagely as she used her semblance to hurl the shards of glass at Pyrrha; they moved like fish, like a pod of savage orcas that roamed the sea, ducking and weaving beneath and around Pyrrha's shield to nip and bite and tear at her aura as they flew around her feet and ankles.

Pyrrha winced, recoiling away from the sudden assault.

Cinder leapt up, the smile fixed upon her face as she descended upon Pyrrha. Fire leapt in her right hand as she drew it back to slam it into Pyrrha's—

Pyrrha's face was fixed into a grimace as she rose up and slammed her shield into Cinder's gut. Cinder let out an 'oof,' breath leaving her, a stream of flame leapt from her hand, but Pyrrha had thrown her off, and it only caught her ponytail and her back at the edge instead of consuming her face and body as Cinder had intended.

Cinder, meanwhile, found herself lifted upwards as Pyrrha used her shield to throw Cinder over her back and dump her on her own — Cinder's — back upon the tarmac.

The blade of Crescent Rose descended through the air towards her, point down.

Cinder caught the blade between the palms of her hands, then let the upwards force as Ruby tried to pull her weapon back yank Cinder up and onto her feet.

Pyrrha spun around, slashing at Cinder with her spear; Cinder turned the stroke aside with the flat of her hand — it hurt a little bit more than it would have using a blade — which of course meant that Ruby was free to pull her weapon back, spinning it in front of her so that it looked like nothing so much as a spinning red disc.

Cinder sprang at her, flames leaping from the soles of her slippers to hurl her through the air faster than Pyrrha could catch up with her, and as she flew, she conjured up a flaming scimitar by magic into her right hand.

Ruby darted away from her, flying around the edge of the shield, a cloud of rose petals surrounding her, and as she flew back, her scythe collapsed into a stubby carbine that she used to fire at Cinder.

The barrel of her gun flared again and again, the loud bangs echoing off the shield.

Cinder held up her free hand, compressing the air in front of her to form a barrier against the rounds, but she wasn't able to control fire and air at the same time with her magic, and so, she had to stop flying after Ruby and settle on the ground. The flaming sword stuttered and died in her hand.

Pyrrha threw her shield at Cinder's head. Cinder grabbed it with one hand, feeling the impact on her aura — less than if it had hit her in the head, obviously — but didn't let on.

You couldn't mind that it hurt, especially not with people watching.

Ruby kept shooting at her as Pyrrha charged, spear whirling in her hands, and as Ruby kept shooting so, Cinder had to keep some of her energies — and her magic — focussed on blocking the shots.

Cinder threw Pyrrha's shield back at her. Pyrrha caught it on her arm, twirling on her toe, her sash wrapping around her waist as she slung her shield across her back and resumed her rush at Cinder, and all with such perfect grace that it was frankly infuriating.

Pyrrha's spear whirled in her hands as she lashed out at Cinder's face. Cinder caught the spear just as she had caught the shield, but Pyrrha surprised Cinder by letting go of her weapon and punching Cinder square on the nose. Cinder's head snapped back, and she recoiled a step, feeling rather than seeing Pyrrha's follow up as she drove her fist straight into Cinder's gut.

Fire leapt from Cinder's hands. Yes, it meant that she had to expose herself to Ruby's shots, and that was less than ideal, but Cinder forced herself to try and not mind that it hurt as Ruby's bullets slammed into her side, into her thigh, into her leg. She was using lightning rounds, not ice, and the shocks of the electricity travelled up and down her body, lasting longer than the impacts of the bullets into her aura.

Here comes a monster to gobble you up.

I can withstand this. I have endured worse than this.

Down in the lower slopes, I have seen drunkards do worse than this in sport.


More importantly was the fact that the flames struck Pyrrha in the chest, bearing her backwards with a wince of pain, knocking her down onto her side as she tried to use her shield to keep the flames at bay.

Jaune rushed to her, his own shield blazing with a white-gold light — his semblance at work — as he planted himself in between Pyrrha and the flames, letting them lick at his shield and lap around it to bite at him.

Cinder let him do the romantic thing as, with her other hand, she unleashed another jet of fire in Ruby's direction, forcing the girl in the red hood to leap away, leaving a cloud of rose petals in her wake.

The flames caught them and consumed them, turning them to cinders.

The Atlesian girl attacked, flinging a trio of her swords out to cut Cinder's legs out from under her. Cinder leapt up, the blades passing underneath her, and changed the target of her flames from Ruby to the Atlesian.

There was a cloud of rose petals as Ruby slammed into the Atlas — Penny! Her name was Penny. Rose petals, rosepetal, RSPT, P for Penny, her name was Penny. Penny … something — into Penny's side and pushed her out of the way with such force that Ruby was carried out of the way too, the flames only passing over her flying cloak for a second.

Cinder flew towards them both; if she could catch them both before they could recover—

Soteria flew through the air towards her. Sunset might not be able to contribute much, but she could do that, it seemed; her free hand was glowing as she used telekinesis to direct the sword. Cinder dodged, diving and turning in the air to let the sword pass over her, but the time she spent doing that meant that Pyrrha and Ruby had both recovered themselves enough to start shooting at her.

Cinder landed, summoning the glass shards of Midnight back into her hands, forming them into a spear which she twirled in her hands, deflecting the shots from both Pyrrha and Ruby, deflecting Soteria as Sunset tried to hit her in the back, parrying all of Penny's swords as she swung them all towards Cinder in a wave meant to sweep her away.

The floating swords pressed against Cinder's spear, Penny exerting surprising strength considering that she was only puppeteering her blades with those wires.

"Golden Rose Cannonball with cover!" Sunset snapped. "Penny, keep her busy!"

How are you supposed to keep track of what those ridiculous names mean? Cinder thought. She knew that it presaged some sort of pre-planned attack, but it wasn't one of the ones that she had heard before, and she couldn't work out what it might mean.

Nor was Penny giving her much of a chance to see or work it out, as she pulled back her swords for a second only to hurl them at Cinder, the wires stretching out as her swords surrounded Cinder, only to descend on her with thrusts and slashes that kept Cinder turning this way and that to fend her off, and Sunset wasn't helping with the way that she added Soteria to the mix, either.

And then the blades retreated.

And then Cinder found out what the Golden Rose Cannonball was as Pyrrha, who had been standing protectively in front of Jaune and Ruby, got out of the way to reveal Ruby balanced on Jaune's shield, the light of his semblance travelling up her legs.

Ruby flew towards Cinder like the very cannonball itself, speeding through the air, moving so fast that Cinder had no time to react, no time to dodge, no time to do anything except get the wind knocked out of her as Ruby, not bothering with her weapon, bodily slammed into Cinder and bore her backwards, slamming her into Sunset's barrier.

Cinder roared in anger as flames erupted from both her hands, engulfing Ruby, surrounding her in fire as she was blasted backwards. Jaune caught her, but the force hurling her away was so strong that he could only cushion her from the impact a little as he was knocked onto his backside.

Pyrrha charged in, closing the distance between them while Cinder was focussed on Ruby, her weapon now in its sword form, her shield in her hand. She slammed her shield into Cinder's gut and then followed up with a slashing stroke down upon Cinder's head. Cinder dodged, swaying nimble aside, but not so swiftly that the stroke didn't strike her in the shoulder. Cinder lashed out at Pyrrha's flank with her glass spear, but Pyrrha parried the blow with her sword, countering with an upwards slash that Cinder just about managed to dodge.

Cinder used Sunset's shield as a wall, blasting off of it and repaying Ruby's complement to Pyrrha, slamming into her and carrying her back all the way across the battlefield to bear her into the shield on the far side.

Pyrrha didn't strike the wall so roughly as Cinder had; rather, she took the impact on her feet, her legs bending until she was almost crouching upon the shield, and as she crouched, she grabbed Cinder by the arm, kicked off the shield, rolled in the air, and bodily threw Cinder around and over her and slammed her into the ground.

Not this again! Cinder thought as Pyrrha held onto her, one arm wrapped around her neck, the other trying to pin her hands.

And lest Cinder thought that she could repeat the trick from their duel, Pyrrha was hauling her upright.

Cinder squirmed and writhed in Pyrrha's grip, but Pyrrha held firm.

She held onto Cinder as Jaune jabbed at her with his sword and unleashed the lightning dust stored within the blade, the yellow lightning rippled down the sword and across Cinder and Pyrrha both alike. Cinder could feel Pyrrha being shocked by the electricity, her limbs jerking, trembling, Pyrrha's teeth chattering in Cinder's ear, but she held onto Cinder nonetheless.

She held onto Cinder as Cinder kicked Jaune away, using Pyrrha's hold on her to kick off the ground and plant her feet into Jaune's chest hard enough to send him flying.

Pyrrha held onto Cinder even as Cinder let fire erupt out of her in all directions, leaping out of her hands like the dragons of old Mistrali legend, long necks craning this way and that, the fire engulfing them, engulfing Pyrrha, burning her aura away.

Yet she hung on regardless.

"Penny!" she cried.

Penny's eyes were wide with anxiety, or fear, or just with concern, but nevertheless, she gathered all her swords in front of her, forming a ring of swords. No, not of swords, because the swords condensed down, halving in length.

A ring of green lasers, their beams combining into a single awesome beam as thick as the trunk of the mightiest tree.

The beam, which cut through Cinder's flames and slammed into her, carrying her and Pyrrha both into the shield once again.

The beam which shattered Cinder's aura.

Red light rippled up and down Cinder's body as Pyrrha released her from her grip.

Cinder flopped forward, breathing heavily, gasping for breath as her heart pounded. She felt the impact with the tarmac beneath her. She felt the pain in her hands, her arms, her elbows, her breasts, her face, everything which struck the ground.

Everything which had not, too. It all hurt. Every nerve and cell in her body was protesting.

My body must protest, since my spirit cannot.

She had lost. Again. And the consolation that this time she had been mobbed and defeated by a multitude meant very little because she had lost again. She had been defeated, for the last time.

This was how her story would end: death, not glory. The last forlorn charge had, indeed, proved to be a forlorn and hopeless thing. She couldn't even see Amber anymore. When had she gone? Cinder hadn't even noticed, so caught up had she been in the battle.

The battle which she had lost. The emperor had survived, the rebellion had been snuffed out, and she…

Dust and food for worms.

Sunset, she could see, was down on one knee, panting a little. Maintaining the shield must have been difficult with all of the abuse they were inflicting on it.

Cinder began to reach for her, sliding her tired, heavy, aching arm across the tarmac surface of the road.

Will you remember me, Sunset? Will I linger in your memory?

She clenched her hand into a fist, and pulled her arm back.

Or will it be as Emerald said, that we are fated to be forgotten ere our bodies are grown cold?

Sunset looked at her. There was something in her eyes, something … Cinder wasn't sure how to describe it, she didn't know what it meant, but there was something … something there, she was sure of it.

She just didn't know what it was.

Remember me, Sunset. Please.

She smiled, because she would not beg. She would not beg for her life, nor for anything else. She was not Phoebe. She would not die like Phoebe. She would be resolute, in her last moments.

Pyrrha walked in front of her. Her steps were tottering, uncertain. She looked as though she might fall. It occurred to Cinder that her aura, too, might be broken. Or perhaps not; she did not look quite heavy-footed enough for that.

She had her spear in her hands.

Cinder looked at her, silent but expectant.

"What would you have of us?" Pyrrha asked. "What mercy?"

"No mercy," Cinder said. "Let that which is customary be done."

"That which is customary," Pyrrha murmured.

"Pyrrha," Sunset whispered.

Now, it was Pyrrha's turn to close her eyes for a moment. "You saved my life," she said. "You saved all our lives."

"And yet, I am your enemy," Cinder reminded her.

"Yes," Pyrrha agreed. "Yes, you are all our enemy."

The sound of sirens began to echo in the distance, still some way off now but growing closer by the moment.

"Let that which is customary be done, you say," Pyrrha repeated. "Yet you forget that we are not in Mistral, Cinder. It is the custom of this country that those who have broken the law will be tried according to the laws of Vale, sentenced, and then Valish justice shall be done upon them. When the police arrive, as I think they soon will, we will hand you over to them.

"That is the custom in this kingdom. And that is what we shall do."
 
Chapter 57 - Speak Only Good Things
Speak Only Good Things


Cinder sat on the other side of the two-way mirror, her hands, her painted nails — painted black, in what was perhaps a case of taking a point too far — resting lightly upon the metal table in front of her.

Her wrists and ankles were both bound. Team SAPR had advised the arresting officers that merely suppressing Cinder's aura might not be sufficient, and so, both hands and legs were held in place with gravity-dust-infused restraints, too heavy for her to resist.

It was possible that she could use magic to escape from those restraints regardless, aura or no, except that she didn't really seem to want to escape. Since losing the battle, she had … well, she had undoubtedly been disappointed at being taken alive, but she hadn't tried to get out, to force the issue to a second fight, she hadn't put them in a position where they simply had to kill her because nothing else would do to stop her rampages. She was quiet and still. She sat with her back straight, refusing to lean against the back of the chair, and although she rested her hands upon the table, she did nothing with them. She looked at the door, and said nothing, and did nothing, and did not move. She did not even turn her head.

It was … rather uncanny, to be perfectly frank. She seemed less like a person and more … more like a doll, a perfect, pretty, obedient little doll who sat in her appointed place in the tea party and smiled and said or did nothing untoward.

Except that Cinder was not smiling. Her mouth was tight and close, the corners of her lips turned slightly down. No, she was no smiling doll; for all her stillness, there was too much melancholy hanging about her like perfume, she was … she was a puppet whose puppeteer had left her unattended, and so she sat, and waited for someone to pick up her strings and bring her life again.

Is that all she ever was? Is that what we all feared so much? Salem's puppet, who was nothing without a hand to pull her strings?

If that is all she was, then why were her strings pulled in that particular direction tonight?


That was something … with the heat of the moment passed, it was something that Pyrrha was somewhat puzzled by. Yes, there had been a chance that Cinder might triumph and kill Amber, but it had been a thin chance indeed, especially the brazen way in which Cinder had chosen to go about it, to announce her presence when Amber was so far away and they had so much time to summon Yang to spirit her off, so much time to plan their response.

Cinder had been indiscreet tonight, to say the least, and that … that made Pyrrha feel that it was rather unfair of her to think of Cinder as a mere puppet, a vessel for Salem's will.

Cinder's actions tonight had been the actions of a particular sort of warrior, one who had marinated for too long in certain Mistralian traditions, one who carried them to excess, to the point … the point, perhaps, of self-parody.

No, Cinder was not a puppet; she was … she was someone who knew how she wished to be seen and was willing to sublimate all other considerations towards that end.

In that, she might, perhaps, be found somewhat admirable. Certainly, it was easier to admire her after a night in which no one had died, in which no one — as far as Pyrrha knew — had suffered anything more than scrapes and bruises.

If only she had not sat so still, and so lifelessly.

But if she wishes to do so, then who am I to tell her otherwise? If silent stillness is the last consolation that remains to her, then I should leave her to the pleasure of it.

All other joys are ours tonight.


Why Cinder had done what she had done, what had driven her to it, that mattered less than the fact that she had done it, and all else that had flown from that.

They had won. They had beaten her. Truly defeated her, not a partial victory or a symbolic victory or a victory that renewed the spirit but offered no material change in their circumstances; they had beaten her. Cinder was locked away, and Salem's tooth was pulled.

Amber was safe. They were all safe, and they could go forward into tomorrow's tournament and the days to come in peace and serenity.

Whatever fresh challenges or new enemies might lie before them, that all lay ahead, in the future, perhaps the distant future. For now … Pyrrha remembered the night of her duel with Cinder, when it had seemed then that she might be able to bring an end to things. That had proven beyond her skill, but it had not proven beyond their combined skill and courage tonight.

They had won. The shadow, though it might lengthen and grow again, was lifted. Tonight, there was only joy, and all good things that belonged to them.

Let us speak only good things tonight and let no sorrow intrude upon our thoughts. For this is our hour. Tonight we have repaid at last the faith Professor Ozpin placed in us.

Though Pyrrha was a little out of love with Professor Ozpin now, compared to times past, nevertheless, the fact that they had now finally proved themselves worthy to have been chosen, for all that the act of choosing had been a little less of an honour than it might have once had seemed, it formed a piece of the mosaic of proud good cheer that swirled within her breast.

Tonight, we have proven ourselves worthy, beyond doubt, for all that the worth of Professor Ozpin is less than I once thought.

But think not of that. Not tonight. Speak only good things.

We are triumphant, and may enjoy light hearts for a while at least.


The five of them — Pyrrha, Jaune, Sunset, Ruby, and Penny — were standing in a police station, the closest one to the sight of their battle and Cinder's downfall. It was a grey, sterile-smelling place, where the lights were very bright, making the somewhat under-cleaned state of the room quite obvious. They stood outside of the interrogation room, watching Cinder as she sat so still, so unchanging in expression.

Meanwhile, the squadroom floor around and behind them was abuzz with activity, officers moving this way and that, doing this or that, Pyrrha wasn't entirely sure. Several of them were making scroll calls, although who they were calling, she couldn't have said either. Some of the police officers were plainclothes detectives, but there were a great many officers in forest green uniforms and body armour, their faces hidden behind masks and helmets, carrying submachine guns in their hands as they stood on guard or simply patrolled restlessly, fingers not far from the triggers of their guns.

They were there because of Cinder. Nobody had tried to interrogate her yet, but it would surely come soon.

At least, Pyrrha thought it would. Perhaps it wouldn't. Perhaps the case against Cinder Fall was so open and shut that there was no need to ask her anything.

Would she answer any questions, if she was asked? On the evidence of her behaviour, it didn't seem likely.

"Do you think we did the right thing?" Ruby asked, her voice soft so that it didn't carry across the room, but only reached the five of them.

Penny looked down at her. "You mean stopping Cinder?"

"No!" Ruby said at once. "No, obviously that was the right thing." She paused. "I mean … did we do the right thing handing Cinder over to the cops?"

"What other choice did we have?" asked Jaune.

"Isn't it obvious?" asked Ruby. "We could have—"

"Killed her?" Sunset asked. "You wanted to kill her in the street, in front of all those people?"

"She deserves it," Ruby said.

"She saved our lives," Pyrrha reminded her.

"That doesn't cancel out the bad that she's done," Ruby pointed out.

"Maybe it doesn't, but do you really want to be remembered for the rest of your career for that video of you gutting someone in the street in the sight of the whole crowd?" asked Sunset. "Is that what you want the legacy of Ruby Rose or Team Sapphire to be?"

Ruby was silent for a moment. "I guess … when you put it like that … no, not really. I wouldn't mind doing it, but … no. No, I don't want that to be what I'm remembered for. I don't want it to be … everyone would just bring it up all the time, wouldn't they?"

"I rather fear so," Pyrrha murmured. "Nevertheless, if it were a choice between killing Cinder or letting her go … but I do not see that we have at all failed, or done anything disgraceful by our present course. Quite the opposite, in fact." She smiled. "We've won. Cinder is beaten. So, please, let's not regret. Let us speak only good things tonight."

Ruby looked at her. "'Only good things'?"

"Why not?" asked Pyrrha. "What ill have we to speak of on this, our victory night?"

"Well, when you put it like that…" Ruby murmured. She smiled. "Our victory night. It does sound pretty cool, doesn't it?"

"I think we deserve to sound pretty cool," Penny declared. "Because we were pretty cool, weren't we?"

"You, especially, were very cool, Penny," Pyrrha told her. "We couldn't have done it without you."

"Really?" Penny gasped. "But all I did was—"

"Break Cinder's aura?" Pyrrha suggested.

"But you and Ruby had weakened it, and Jaune too, and you were the one holding her down—"

"And it was a team effort," Jaune put in. "We did together what I think not even Pyrrha could have done by herself." He smiled sheepishly at her. "No offence."

Pyrrha chuckled. "Can there be offence in being right?"

Jaune shrugged. "Depends on how you say it, I guess."

"You said it plainly and well enough," Pyrrha assured him. "We won because we stood united, while Cinder stood alone. If any of us had stood alone, and she half a Maiden … but this is not the time to dwell upon such might-have-beens."

Jaune grinned. "'Only good things.'"

"'Only good things,'" Pyrrha agreed.

"You all did very well," Sunset murmured, taking a step closer to the one-way glass. "You all … you were superb, all of you, first rate in skill and courage."

"But we couldn't have done it without you, Sunset," Penny told her. "Just because you didn't—"

"Contribute much of anything?" Sunset tossed out the suggestion without turning her head.

"That's not true!" Penny insisted, taking a step forward and reaching out to take Sunset's hand. "It was you who made that shield so that we could all fight Cinder without anyone else getting hurt! Otherwise, there might have been stray bullets, or Cinder's fire, or… who knows what might have happened and to who? Sunset, look at us!"

Sunset turned her head. Her brow was furrowed, and her ears were drooping downwards ever so slightly. "I'm sorry, Penny."

"You shouldn't put yourself down just because you were preoccupied with keeping the shield up," Penny said. "The shield was important. It was a team effort, and it was an effort by you as part of the team just as much as anyone else. It's like Pyrrha said: you can't be miserable tonight just because you didn't get to do a load of flashy attacks."

Sunset laughed slightly. "Well, when you say it like that, it makes me sound very silly indeed, doesn't it?"

Penny stepped back, pulling Sunset back with her. "That's because you are being silly," she said.

"Alright, alright, don't rub it in," Sunset said, with laughter in her voice. She looked at Pyrrha. "Are you really ready to pronounce this a victory, and banish all … uncertainty? All—"

"All for tonight, but our accomplishment," Pyrrha said. "Tell me, Sunset, why should we not? If I am being a fool, forgetful, or naïve, if there is some dark cloud that I have failed to notice or comprehend, then tell me true, for in truth, I see it not. This is not like Mountain Glenn, this is not like my duel with Cinder in the forest, this is no incomplete victory, this is no wounded triumph that we have snatched from the jaws of disaster, this … this is all silver, and an absent cloud, or so it seems to me. Cinder has not just been defeated, but locked away in that very room before us, and she seems … she seems to me defeated in the spirit as well as in the body. She will be locked away, for a little while at least, where she can do no harm to anyone, least of all to Amber. Amber is safe and sound and beyond harm, and she may come to Mistral with us, and thence to Atlas maybe with Ciel and the others; she may see the world, with us but without fear of who may dog her steps there, for who might have dogged those steps sits before us under lock and key. Salem still lurks, true, but she must wait 'til she can find some other Cinder to do her wickedness. What have I forgotten? What is there that stains our golden world?"

There was a moment of silence as her friends considered that.

"Emerald?" Ruby suggested.

"Emerald … is but a limb of Cinder," Pyrrha declared. "She did Cinder's bidding, served her in some offices, but absent Cinder's bidding, her guiding mind, she cannot harm us. I am not sure that she would even want to. Cinder was everything, and Cinder … Cinder sits before us."

"Your voice is full of conviction," Sunset observed.

"I should hope so; I am convinced," Pyrrha replied. "And full of the desire to convince you, that you might share in my joy of this." She paused for a moment. "But I spoke truly when I say that if I am wrong, if I am mistaken, if I am forgetting something, then … tell me. Speak up, I beg, lest … well, I've probably already humiliated myself with that speech, but nevertheless, I would staunch the wound of my embarrassment, if it is that I am unaware of."

"You've convinced me," Jaune said, putting one arm around her, and pulling her close, so that their bodies were pressed against one another, side by side. "And it does feel … different, doesn't it? Like Pyrrha said, it doesn't feel like Mountain Glenn, or like that night in the forest; it … it doesn't feel like there's anything … I don't know about the rest of you, but is anyone really thinking 'oh, I wish that I'd been able to do this' or 'if only this had gone better'? Does anyone have any regrets about tonight, any at all?"

"Well … I have one," Penny said tremulously.

"What is it, Penny?" asked Ruby.

"I'm a little disappointed that we, and Amber, didn't get to have fun at the carnival without getting interrupted," Penny pointed.

Pyrrha chuckled. "Yes, yes, I suppose that is a fair point, Penny, but—"

"But think how much more fun Amber will be able to have, now that she doesn't have Cinder to worry about," Ruby said.

"Right," Penny agreed.

"Alright, you've convinced me," Sunset said. "This … this is a win. This is a real, unmarred win." She let out a sound that was halfway between a laugh and sigh, rattling as it issued from her throat. "Huh. So that's what that feels like."

Pyrrha reached out, wrapping her free arm around Sunset's shoulder and drawing her in, pulling her close on the other side of her from Jaune, even as Ruby and Penny joined in the embrace on Jaune's side.

"It's over," she said. "As we thought that it might be on the night of the duel, it is over. We've done it."

"What do you want to do tomorrow?" Ruby asked, prompting a round of soft laughter from the others.

"What will happen to Cinder now?" asked Penny.

Silence fell among them, everyone's eyes once more turning to the one-way mirror and their fallen foe who sat so still within, and so utterly silent.

"She…" Jaune began, but then trailed. "She'll be put on trial, I guess; that's what usually happens with criminals, at least. And then, after that…"

"She'll pay for what she's done," Ruby said, her voice firm and unyielding.

Sunset began, "You mean—"

"She'll hang," Ruby said.

Pyrrha was a little surprised that they still hanged people in Vale. Yes, in Mistral, it was the most common method of execution — the last person to be crucified had been so put to death during the Great War — but she would almost have expected Vale to have had some more modern practice. If indeed they put people to death at all.

"Perhaps Cinder would have preferred a death in—"

"Dead is dead," Sunset said. "No matter how it happens, the end result is still the same."

"But the manner of it—" began Pyrrha.

"Doesn't matter much compared to the result," Sunset muttered.

"Cinder chose this," Ruby said. "She chose this life."

"Not at first she didn't," Sunset replied softly.

"You pity her," Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset was silent for a moment. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I think I do pity her. I always have, ever since that night. I pity her and … is there not something in her to be pitied?"

"From what you have said, it seems so," Pyrrha admitted. "And yet … Ruby is right: she chose this road, she cannot complain where it leads. Nor do I think that she would want to." She paused. "And, once she is … it seems likely that the … you know, will be reunited in Amber."

"Yes," Sunset acknowledged. "Yes, Amber … Amber triumphs from this, even more than we do. The shadow is banished from her completely."

"Maybe not completely," Jaune pointed out. "They know who she is now."

"But for now, she's free," Penny said. "And so are we."

"Yes," Pyrrha agreed. "Yes, Penny, so are we."

Their attention was all arrested by the sound of snapping feet upon the grey linoleum floor of the police station.

They turned to see Professor Ozpin walking into the room, accompanied by Professor Goodwitch and General Ironwood and greeted by salutes from the uniformed police officers.

He did not return their salutes, but he did nod affably to the officers and murmured a few words to them as he passed by.

He, and General Ironwood and Professor Goodwitch, made their way towards Pyrrha and the others. It seemed to Pyrrha that there was a spring in Professor Ozpin's step that she had not seen before; he walked with an uncharacteristic bounce, and his cane, too, bounced somewhat as he held it by his side, rising up and down as he walked like a ship borne upon strong waves.

A smile played across his features, and Pyrrha would even go so far as to say that he seemed a younger man, the lines on his face less pronounced, the slump of his shoulders vanished.

"Professor," Pyrrha said, a touch of surprise entering her voice. "Professor Goodwitch, General Ironwood."

"Miss Nikos," Professor Ozpin said warmly as he came to a halt close by, looking down upon them all. "Miss Shimmer, Miss Rose, Mister Arc; Miss Polendina," he added, after a moment's pause. "You have — you all have, and ever shall possess — my thanks."

"And our congratulations," Professor Goodwitch added, pushing her spectacles back up her nose with the fingers of one hand. "As I have already been forced to admit to James, your plan worked better than I would have expected, and you have won a great victory in consequence."

"Well done," General Ironwood agreed. "I understand you got the final shot, Penny."

"Yes, sir, I did," Penny replied. "But only because Pyrrha was holding Cinder in place — in spite of Cinder trying to burn her — so that I could hit her. It was a team effort, by all of us."

"The greatest victories often are," Professor Ozpin declared. "There are valid reasons why the Vytal Tournament is structured as it is, but there are times I think the man who established it erred by not allowing teams of four to compete all the way to the final battle, that the message of cooperation not be diluted by the celebration of individual prowess."

"We kept the lesson well enough in mind, Professor," Sunset pointed out.

Professor Ozpin chuckled. "Yes, Miss Shimmer, that … that can hardly be disputed, can it?" He paused and began to blink rapidly behind his spectacles. "You have my thanks," he said once more. "On my own behalf, and on behalf of Amber, also. You have lifted a shadow from her and a burden off my shoulders. Thank you. You have done very well."

Sunset bowed her head. "Thank you, Professor; you are most generous with your words."

"It is over then, Professor?" asked Penny. "It really is finished?"

"Barring an escape," General Ironwood muttered. "Do you think they can keep her contained?"

"She doesn't seem to want to go anywhere, sir," Jaune pointed out.

Professor Ozpin, General Ironwood, and Professor Goodwitch turned their attention to the one-way mirror, and statue-like Cinder on the other side, frozen in the interrogation room.

They gazed at her as though she were a recalcitrant creature in a zoo, and they, the paying customers, were desirous for her to roar, or flick out her long tongue, or show her fangs, or do whatever it was that that particular animal was supposed to do to delight and awe the crowd. Cinder stubbornly refused to do any of it, until eventually, it began to sink into them that she had not done and would not do it.

"It seems you are correct, Mister Arc," Professor Ozpin murmured. "Although that could be a trick of some sort. Nevertheless, I would rather worry about Miss Fall's escape than worry about what she might do at liberty. Is it over, Miss Polendina? I feel confident in saying that something is over, even if that something is not necessarily 'it.'"

"In that case, Professor," Pyrrha murmured, "perhaps — at some point, even if not here — we might talk about Amber's future and whether she—"

"You are correct, Miss Nikos; now is not the time or place," Professor Ozpin said. "Apart from anything else, Amber herself should probably be present for the discussion, no?"

Pyrrha let out a sheepish laugh. "Yes, Professor, she should."

"Where is Amber now, Professor?" asked Sunset.

"She is back at Beacon," Professor Goodwitch said. "Safe."

"To say that she is safe now is almost a matter of course," Professor Ozpin said. "Team Rosepetal is with her, but I almost think that we may dispense with a guard at this point; what further need has Amber of protection?"

"We don't know," Professor Goodwitch said. "But that doesn't mean the need doesn't exist."

"You seem like you're in a very good mood, Professor," Ruby pointed out.

"Yes, Miss Rose, I daresay that I am," Professor Ozpin replied with a lightness in his voice. "You must forgive me, all of you, but such good news, and so uncomplicated in its goodness, comes so rarely that I find that when it comes, I am inclined to savour it."

"Just don't make yourself ill by savouring too much," remarked Professor Goodwitch.

"Professor, General," Penny said, glancing around to make sure that all the police officers and suchlike were out of earshot. "A lot of people were filming our fight against Cinder, and she … well, she was using … you know. How are you, or we, going to explain that? Isn't it supposed to be a secret?"

"Dust," Pyrrha said at once. "Is there anything that Cinder did that cannot be explained by the use of copious quantities of dust?"

"How about the burning eye thing?" Sunset suggested.

"Well … in Mistral, there are dancers who paint their faces — and sometimes, I believe, more than their faces — with fire dust when they perform," Pyrrha explained. "They wear it like makeup, only applied with considerably more gusto and less subtlety in at least some cases."

"That doesn't sound very safe," Penny said.

"No, indeed, it isn't safe," Pyrrha agreed. "A stray spark could ignite it."

Penny began, "Then why—?"

"I'm guessing that's the point," Ruby interjected.

Penny blinked. "What's the point?"

"The fact that they can pull it off without setting themselves on fire shows how good they are," Sunset said. "How they can literally dance on the edge of the fire and not burn. It's meant to awe the crowd with their prowess."

"Quite," Pyrrha agreed. "Or so they wish for it to be seen, at any rate. But my point is: who is to say that Cinder was not inspired to wear fire dust like eyeshadow? After all, I daresay that if I were wearing dust instead of my eyeshadow, patterned as it is, it might make a burning wing effect if it were ignited." She paused. "I would rather not put it to the test."

"Can I ask how you know about this?" Sunset asked. "It doesn't seem like your scene, somehow."

"I have never been to the sort of club where they perform," Pyrrha confirmed, "but some dancers of that sort were part of the entertainment before the matches began in the last Regional Tournament in which I competed. It was … quite mesmerising to watch, I must admit; at times, it seemed as though they were competing to see how close they could get to the flames while still coming away unscathed."

"It must cost a lot of money to be able to just wear dust like makeup like that," Ruby said.

"Is it that different to me putting dust in my jacket?" asked Sunset. "I use that up and have to replace it, the same as they do."

"Yeah, but you don't wash your jacket every morning and have to replace the dust," Ruby replied.

"Maybe that's part of the point too," Jaune said. "That they can afford so much dust that they can waste it that way." He frowned. "Although, if the whole point of that is that it's dangerous, and that if the dust catches fire, then that's not good, then wouldn't people expect it to hurt if Cinder set her eyeshadow on fire like that?"

"It would depend entirely on how much dust," General Ironwood interjected, reminding them of the presence of the adults. "While I would strongly discourage any student of mine who wished to use dust to set their own body on fire, with a sufficiently light-touch application of it and aura that was in no danger of breaking, it could be done."

"Although I'm not sure Cinder would like everyone thinking that she was inspired by a dancer," Sunset murmured.

"Forgive me if I'm not swayed by that argument, Miss Shimmer," Professor Ozpin said dryly. "Yes, dust use is our best hope of covering up … what should be kept concealed. Fortunately, Miss Fall has been involved in the theft of a very large amount of dust."

There was a moment of silence, before Ruby asked, "What happens now, Professor? I mean, I know that Cinder is going to go on trial, and then she'll be found guilty and executed, but right now? Like now, now, what happens now?"

Professor Ozpin smiled slightly. "I am not entirely sure, Miss Rose. I should probably suggest that I be the one to interrogate Miss Fall, rather than an officer from Vale's gallant police department. There are questions that need answering, and I fear that a police officer will not know to ask them."

Like how Cinder, or Salem, knew that Amber was the Fall Maiden, Pyrrha guessed, but did not ask for confirmation.

"In fact," Professor Ozpin went on. "I daresay that I should go and do that now, before anyone decides to finally—"

"Is she here? Is she here?" Councillor Emerald demanded as he strode into the squadroom, followed by the two Valish officers whom they had met at the reception in the Mayoral Palace not too long ago, General Blackthorn and Colonel Skybeak, and two files of Valish infantry. The soldiers — there were eight of them in total — were distinguishable from the police by the red cockades they wore on the left-hand sides of their helmets, as well as by the golden epaulettes they wore upon their shoulders. The police, uniformed and plainclothes alike, made way for them as they trooped inside, following their officers and the First Councillor of Vale.

The First Councillor himself outstripped them all, striding ahead of his general, his colonel, and his military escort — Pyrrha wondered why he felt the need of one — as he caught sight of Professor Ozpin and all the rest and headed towards them with the speed of a Bullhead outpacing a lumbering skyliner.

"Is it true?" he demanded, his voice trembling. "Is she here?"

"Good evening, Mister Councillor," Professor Ozpin said pleasantly. "Or perhaps it should be good night, if that did not have connotations of—"

"Get on with it, man!" snapped Councillor Emerald. "Is Cinder Fall here?"

Professor Ozpin nodded. "Miss Fall has been taken into custody, that is correct, thanks to the efforts of these brave young huntsmen and huntresses you see before you."

Councillor Emerald turned his gaze upon them. Well, no, actually, it was Sunset, and Sunset alone, upon whom he turned his eyes. He stared at her, so much so that Sunset detached herself from Pyrrha's embrace and stepped to one side, bowing her head, her ears drooping into her hair, her tail going slack and still … what did she have to be ashamed of? Why should she feel embarrassment before the First Councillor? She had played her part in a great victory; surely, she was not still plagued by the feeling that she had not done enough, when without her, the fight would not be possible?

Speak only good things tonight, Sunset, Pyrrha urged mentally as she reached out for Sunset's nearest hand.

"Yes," Councillor Emerald said softly. "Yes, I had heard that." He held out his own hand towards Sunset. "Congratulations, Miss Shimmer; you have done Vale a great service."

Sunset looked up, and swiftly too, her head snapped up so suddenly it was a wonder that she didn't give herself whiplash. "Councillor?"

"I said 'congratulations,'" Councillor Emerald repeated. "Well done. Very well done, I must say."

Sunset hesitated for a moment. "Mister Councillor, First Councillor, I—"

"Have brought to justice the criminal responsible for all of the misfortunes of this year," Councillor Emerald declared. "Thanks to you—"

"To us," Sunset interrupted him. "Forgive me, Councillor, but if you really mean your praise, then the victory belongs not to me but to us all."

Councillor Emerald gave a firm nod of his head as he turned his attention upon them. "Yes. Yes, I have no doubt that it does. Miss Nikos, I daresay that when this gets out, your reputation amongst the Mistralians will be burnished even brighter, if that is possible. Miss Rose and … Miss Polendina, isn't it? Miss Penny Polendina, who will be transferring to Beacon next year."

Penny nodded vigorously, a smile upon her face. "That's right, Mister Councillor! I'm surprised you remember me."

"You made quite the impression, Miss Polendina," Councillor Emerald replied. "And, while I can't speak for your teachers, I would say that you are off to a very good start in your Beacon career."

Penny's smile widened. "Really? Thank you, Mister Councillor!"

Councillor Emerald returned his attention to Sunset. "Will you shake my hand, Miss Shimmer? It would be very rude of you not to."

Sunset looked down at his hand as though it might bite. "I … you do me an honour I am not sure I deserve, First Councillor."

"Whatever has been done in the past," Councillor Emerald said. "Whatever mistakes or follies there have been, nevertheless…" He fell silent for a moment, and in that moment, Pyrrha thought his hand might drop to his side, but it did not. He kept it raised, proffered out towards Sunset. "Nevertheless, this is a moment for praise and celebration. A fugitive captured, and all without a single serious injury, which I understand was your doing, Miss Shimmer?"

"Yes, First Councillor," Sunset said softly. "Yes, it was."

Councillor Emerald nodded. "Take my hand, Miss Shimmer. You have earned it."

Sunset swallowed, and the look on her face still seemed far from overjoyed, but her ears at least pricked up a little as she took the hand that was offered her. "Thank you, First Councillor. I would be honoured."

The two gave a firm handshake, before Councillor Emerald let his hand fall to his side once more.

"This night," he declared, "is a night of accomplishment. A night for nightmares to be put to bed and mistakes to be put behind us. This is a victory won not by Atlesian guns but by our own Beacon students, into whose training Vale has invested so much."

Pyrrha could not help but wonder if he was practising his remarks for a subsequent press conference.

"Cinder Fall will be tried with the utmost despatch, found guilty, put to death and a line will be drawn between all the sordid business of this year. It is over now, and all done." Councillor Emerald turned to Professor Ozpin. "Where is she?"

Professor Ozpin gestured to the one-way mirror. "Just in here, Mister Councillor."

Councillor Emerald approached the glass, and as the others had before him, he gazed in at Cinder where she sat, as still as death, on the other side.

"Her?" Councillor Emerald said. "This is she? This is the person who brought down Novo, who terrified Vale, who has cast her shadow over this whole city for a year?"

"She has been more active than this in the past, Your Excellency," Pyrrha pointed out gently.

Councillor Emerald snorted. "No excellencies here, Miss Nikos; you're not in Mistral now. Has she said anything?"

"Not yet, Mister Councillor," Professor Ozpin said. "I was about to request a closed interrogation, undertaken by myself."

Councillor Emerald frowned. "'Closed'? You mean no recordings, no video?" His eyes narrowed. "Are you up to something, Ozpin?"

"I have the legal right, Mister Councillor," Professor Ozpin said mildly. "As I'm sure you are aware, being a former lawyer yourself, huntsmen—"

"Huntsmen have the right to interrogate suspected terrorists and organised criminals without details of said interrogation being recorded in any way; however, any accounts of such interrogations, such as the huntsman in question relaying what was said to him, are inadmissible in court, being counted as hearsay," Councillor Emerald replied. "Yes, Ozpin, I am aware. I am also aware that that rule exists in the interests of life: in circumstances where every minute may count to prevent loss of life, it was felt that giving suspects the ability to speak freely without fear that they would incriminate themselves would encourage them to confess the whereabouts of any bombs, hostages, co-conspirators, or the like. But where is the risk to life that justifies such actions now?"

"Miss Fall may not have planted a bomb which we must race to locate, Mister Councillor," Professor Ozpin said, "but she has obtained access to information that I, for one, believed to be a closely guarded secret. She has already attacked an … associate of mine, involved in dangerous undercover work with various unsavoury groups. I should like to know how Miss Fall learned their identity and whether any other associates of mine are similarly at risk."

"And so you don't trust the police to keep confidential information to themselves?" General Blackthorn demanded. "You don't trust us?"

"Come on, Blacky, it's not about trust," Colonel Sky Beak said. "We keep information close to our chest; it's about things not getting out further than they need to."

"It's 'General' or 'sir' to you, Colonel," General Blackthorn said coldly.

Colonel Sky Beak cleared his throat. "Yes, sir, my apologies, but nevertheless—"

"As the leader and defenders of Vale, I would insist that we have the right to know everything that Professor Ozpin does," General Blackthorn said. "Except that I'm not sure that a mere headmaster has any secrets worth discovering."

"I'm not so sure about that," Councillor Emerald muttered. "Much as I might have wished otherwise at times."

"First Councillor," General Blackthorn went on, ignoring the interruption, "this is a waste of time; let's collect the girl and be on our way."

"'Collect'?" Professor Goodwitch repeated. "Collect Miss Fall?"

"Yes," Councillor Emerald answered. "General Blackthorn has suggested, and I am inclined to agree, that Cinder Fall should be taken into military custody. She can be kept more secure by the defence forces than by the police."

Professor Ozpin's eyebrows rose. "That is … somewhat irregular."

"No more irregular than keeping Roman Torchwick aboard an Atlesian man-o'-war," Colonel Sky Beak pointed out.

Professor Ozpin managed a slight chuckle. "An excellent point, Colonel. Nevertheless, I find that I am a little surprised by this."

"Just because something is new doesn't mean that it's a bad idea, Ozpin," Councillor Emerald said. "Even a conservative like myself has to admit that once in a while. Without wishing to disparage the police, the Valish Defence Forces are better equipped and can more easily deal with Miss Fall if she should attempt to escape."

Will it matter that much, if she does decide to escape? "You will be very careful, won't you, General Blackthorn?" Pyrrha said. "Just because you have more guns than the police doesn't mean that you should underestimate her."

"This isn't Mistral, Miss Nikos," General Blackthorn replied. "I don't need advice from a little girl, whatever her name is."

Pyrrha bowed her head. "Of course, General, I—"

"I'm sure that Pyrrha has fought more battles than you have!" Penny declared. "What have you ever done that gives you the right to be so mean?"

"Penny!" Pyrrha gasped.

"What?" Penny asked, looking at her. "Don't friends stick up for one another?"

"Yes," Sunset said, a smile playing across her face. "Yes, they do, Penny."

General Blackthorn's face reddened, and a sort of rumbling sound, like the koax koax of a frog, began to issue from out of his throat.

"Don't make a fuss, Blackthorn," Councillor Emerald said. "You deserved that for your rudeness, tonight when these 'little girls' have brought the bogeyman to book."

"First Councillor—"

"You will get your prisoner," Councillor Emerald informed him. "And as it happens, I think that taking good care of her so that she does not escape before she is hanged is a very good idea. You will get your prisoner, but first, Professor Ozpin will get his interrogation. The law allows it, and as much as I would like to pry out some of his secrets, I see no need to pry into the identities of confidential informants and the like. Question her, Ozpin; we will wait here."

"Thank you, Mister Councillor," Professor Ozpin said, bowing his head. "I believe there should be a dark room somewhere in the precinct where we may speak unobserved." He turned to Pyrrha, and to Sunset. "Miss Nikos, Miss Shimmer, will you please bring Miss Fall for questioning?"
 
Chapter 58 - CInder's Tale
Cinder's Tale


"Are you ready?" Pyrrha asked.

Sunset didn't answer for a second before she said, "Yeah, I'm ready."

"That pause was not necessarily reassuring," Pyrrha pointed out.

"I'm fine," Sunset insisted. "What's she going to do to us?"

"I didn't suggest that you were afraid," Pyrrha murmured.

"No," Sunset agreed. "No, you didn't."

The two of them stood outside the door to the interrogation room, the room which the two of them would shortly move Cinder out of, and down to the dark room in the basement where Professor Ozpin could question her without anyone listening in. Where Cinder could spill the beans about Maidens and Salem and everything else without anyone who wasn't supposed to know about them finding out.

How had Cinder found out about Amber? How had she come into Salem's service in the first place? Would Professor Ozpin even care about that, or would he only be interested in what she'd done once she made it that far?

"You were right," Sunset said.

Pyrrha waited a second for Sunset to go on before she said, "About what?"

"It is over," Sunset said. "Everything … it's over. Just as you said. This part of the story is done. And soon … Cinder will be over too. Cinder will be done. It's like Ruby said, like Councillor Emerald said. They're going to hang her."

Pyrrha's voice did not, thank goodness, become inflected with outrage, nor did her expression twist into something like disgust. Her expression remained mild, her eyebrows turned outwards, her head tilted somewhat, and concern remained the overwhelming tenor in her voice as she said, "And that troubles you?"

"I…" Sunset hesitated. "So what if she deserves to die? How many other people also deserve to die but don't, who aren't put to death?"

"She is a killer," Pyrrha observed.

"I know that," Sunset said sharply. "I'm sorry, I … I didn't mean to snap—"

"It's fine."

"No, I'm not sure it is," Sunset said. "It's just … maybe I just don't like the idea of…"

"Of death?" Pyrrha asked. "Of dying?"

"Either?" Sunset replied. "Both."

Pyrrha nodded slightly. "When I challenged Cinder to the duel, you told me that—"

"That was different," Sunset said. "It seemed as though … only one of you could walk away. That was the point, those were the terms. Two enter, one leaves. That being the case … I didn't want to lose you. I was prepared … as much as I feel … I don't know how to describe what I feel towards Cinder."

"Pity?" Pyrrha suggested.

"That," Sunset agreed. "But not only that."

"No," Pyrrha murmured. "That's what I have been afraid of."

Sunset frowned. "That hurts, just a little bit."

"Can you blame me?" Pyrrha responded. "Truly."

"Yes, truly," Sunset declared. "A bit." She paused. "I chose you, on the night of your duel. I would … I will always choose you, if it comes to it, if I am made to choose between you. I would not trade or sacrifice you for her sake, and not only because I find the very idea of such things to be abhorrent, but … when you returned with news that Cinder had escaped, I was inappropriately glad of it. And now, when I do not have to choose between you, when you are safe and sound no matter what … I wish that she would not die."

"It is…" Pyrrha hesitated a moment. "It is difficult to see how her road could end else. She started down a bloody path; did she imagine that it would end any other way?"

"No," Sunset said. "No, I think that Cinder always … I don't know, maybe there was a time when she thought that power could be hers, so much power that nobody could ever harm her, but no, I think … I think that she was always aware of the threat of death, and accepted it, provided that she might do some great thing before she died."

"Something great according to her lights, at least," Pyrrha said.

"Yes," Sunset agreed. "Yes, according to her lights, if not the lights that guide others. According to the old Mistralian values, pure and ancient and bereft of the … touch of modernity with which you gentle them."

"I thought you liked Mistralian values."

"It turns out that I like the pretend Mistralian values that you so often model," Sunset replied. "The real ones … the edges are a bit too sharp for my liking. Which brings me to my point: just because Cinder accepted death as an occupational hazard doesn't mean that I have to like it. Ruby accepts death as an occupational hazard — so do you, for that matter — and I don't like that either."

"It is the life we all have chosen."

"That doesn't change what I just said," Sunset muttered.

"Would you have rather that I—?"

"No," Sunset said at once, before Pyrrha could finish, because she could guess — she felt that she could guess, at least, what Pyrrha was about to ask. "No, I would not. She would still be as dead, and I would not care for that either."

Some might say that all of this is grossly hypocritical of me, considering that I killed Adam. But I hope that some might at least be open to the possibility that, as a killer, I am in a position to know whereof I speak when I say that no, actually, killing people isn't a very good idea.

Certainly, it didn't do my soul any good.

And whether it did the world any good … Adam's death may not have done the world any harm, but as for the rest.

And even Adam … I do not regret saving Blake, not for a moment, but…

Would there were water enough in Remnant to clear me of these deeds.


"I fear," Pyrrha said, "you cannot save her now. The die is cast."

"I know," Sunset said. "Why do you think I'm like this?"

Pyrrha frowned a little beneath her circlet. "You don't have to do this. Penny could—"

"No," Sunset said. "No, I do have to do this. I … I owe her this. After all, this might be the last time that I… I owe it to her to look her in the eye."

Pyrrha nodded. "Very well. Shall we go, then?"

"Yes," Sunset said at once. "Yes… let us go. Let us go and either… let us go."

She pushed open the door and stepped into the interrogation room, with Pyrrha a step behind her.

They were here to take Cinder to a dark room, but the room that she was already in seemed literally dark enough, with the light dim and the walls a very dark grey. Sunset thought the lights might be motion triggered, and Cinder had turned them off by being so very still, but even when Sunset and Pyrrha walked in, the lights did not stir.

Cinder did stir, however, the silent statue turning her head to look at them, her black-painted lips twitching.

"Sunset," she said. "And Pyrrha," she added, her tone becoming a little more arch as she said it. "What a…" She smiled. "Well, you are a sight more pleasing to the eyes than the heavyset police officer I was expecting to come through that door." She chuckled. "A rather belated good evening to you both."

"It is night now," Pyrrha said, a touch of grumpiness entering into her voice.

"Is it?" Cinder asked. "Is it so? Have I sat here so long? Have I … slumbered without sleeping all this while? Have I let time's flow carry me off so far?"

"It has been some time," Sunset conceded. "Were you lost in your thoughts?"

Cinder did not answer that; though she was silent for a few moments, no answer to Sunset's question came even when she spoke. "What are you doing here?" she asked. "If it were Pyrrha alone, I might think that she had come to do what she failed to do in the street—"

"'Think'?" Pyrrha asked, folding her arms across her chest. "Or 'hope'?"

"What do you think?" Cinder asked. "Do you think that I think or that I hope?"

"I do not know," Pyrrha said. "You might hope for the chance to escape."

Cinder laughed. "And what would that avail me? To be a fugitive running—"

"Have you not been a fugitive running all this time?" asked Pyrrha.

"Yes, I suppose you have a point there, but even so…" Cinder murmured. "Who would fear me then, were I to escape? You have beaten me, in the sight of all. The world has seen you defeat me. I am Cinder Fall, but what is Cinder Fall once all of Remnant has seen her fall? In truth, after you defeated me in the forest, I was much diminished, but I thought — I hoped — that I might yet recover some of my former menace. I fear that is beyond me now. There is … nothing left. Nothing but…"

"An early grave," Sunset said, her voice becoming hoarse, a croak clawing its way out of her throat.

Cinder looked at her. "So, you are come as messengers, as in some old tragedy, to bring me news? Here I sit like the Mistralian Women, while heralds come and pile misfortunes on my head, telling me of—"

"A daughter dead?" Pyrrha asked. "Is that now the news you would have had some messenger bring my mother? Word of my death and the downfall of my line?"

Cinder looked at her. "Is your point that I have no grounds to complain, or are you personally affronted that I wanted to kill you?"

"Mostly the first," Pyrrha said. "Those who live by the sword must accept that they may die by it, or they are the most monstrous hypocrites, no?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to be a monstrous hypocrite, would I, not when I'm already so many other kinds of monster," Cinder said lightly.

"But I must confess that I am a little … I never did you ill, that I recall," Pyrrha said.

"No," Cinder admitted. "No, you did not. I … it was a shadow of you that I hated. A figure that I created in my own mind and gave the name of Pyrrha Nikos. At most, the best that I can say, is that I wished to end you because you were a symbol. A hero to many, an idol to more, someone whose death would grant me immortal life."

"'Immortal life'?" Sunset repeated. "Did you think that … that Pyrrha's blood would let you live forever?"

"I thought my name would live forever," Cinder corrected her.

"And your body?" Sunset asked. "Your … your actual, real life, what of that?"

"What of it?" asked Cinder. "My life has been … my body is … I had little enough worth living for."

"Did you try and find anything worth living for?" Sunset demanded.

Cinder leaned back on her chair. "No," she admitted, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. She chuckled. "I suppose it's a little late for that now."

Sunset did not laugh. Neither did Pyrrha. Sunset couldn't speak for her, but she, for one, didn't think that there was anything funny in what Cinder had just said.

The smile faded from Cinder's face. She kept her eyes on Sunset as she said, "Did you know that, in Mistral, a scion of a lordly house will be hanged with a silk rope, not the hemp rope that will be used on a commoner? So, Pyrrha, for instance, if she should fall out of favour like a star falling from the heavens, would get a silk rope around that pretty neck of hers."

Sunset looked at Pyrrha. "Is that right?"

Pyrrha kept her eyes on Cinder as she nodded. "Yes, that is correct. It is an ancient custom, as so much in Mistral is. One that probably should have been reformed some time ago."

"I would rather that Vale had some similar custom," Cinder said. "I don't think it does, do you?"

"I … doubt it," Pyrrha said.

"I didn't think your family was well-born enough to warrant you any such dignity," Sunset pointed out. "Unless you meant to claim it through your stepmother."

"Well, it would be the first and only time I would be glad of the old bat's existence," Cinder replied. "She ought to be good for one thing, at least; is that not fair enough?" She paused. "I do not fear to die," she said softly. "But I would not … I do not … do not wish to be dragged forth caged and chained before the baying of the mob and made to kick my heels for their amusement. Is that not also fair enough?"

Sunset swallowed, but said nothing. There was nothing to be said upon the matter, at least in her eyes. It was fair enough, save that there was nothing else save for Pyrrha or Ruby to have made an end of Cinder in the street while she lay helpless, and that … that was no better, to Sunset's eyes. It might tarnish Cinder's pride a little less, but Cinder's pride would be as dead as she was, so what matter if it were tarnished?

"We," she said, "we are not here to tell you how you will … we are here to bring you to another room where you may be questioned by Professor Ozpin."

Cinder wrinkled her nose. "Ozpin? Really?" She sighed. "And after that? When the learned Professor has squeezed me dry to his own satisfaction, what then?"

"You…" Sunset hesitated. "You will be taken into military custody pending your trial."

"Ah, so I'll be sharing the cell next to Roman?" Cinder asked. "That will be a joy."

"Valish military," Pyrrha corrected her. "Not Atlesian."

Cinder became almost as still as she had been before Sunset and Pyrrha walked into the room. She blinked. "Valish military? I will be taken into Valish military custody?"

"Yes," Sunset said. "It was thought that … they're worried about you trying to escape."

Cinder laughed. "Yes," she agreed. "Yes, I'm sure they are. They are very worried that I might escape and…"

Sunset took a step closer towards her. "Cinder?"

Cinder remained silent for a moment more, before she gave a smile that was almost but not quite a smirk. "Well, you don't want me to tell you here, do you? Anyone might hear us here. I should keep quiet, and wait until you have brought me to the place that has been prepared, the dark place, for dark secrets, when I can tell you everything." She raised her hands, although it seemed to take her some effort and involve a degree of fighting with the gravity dust. She grunted, and the muscles on her arms could be seen straining through the sleeves of her red and gold dress. "Come, then. I am in your charge and at your mercy. You may drag me there, or somewhere else, or anywhere you wish."

Sunset glanced at Pyrrha, who gave a nod of her head — the teal drops swayed on their golden chains, hanging from her circlet — as they both stepped forward, taking one of Cinder's arms and pulling her upright.

The chair on which she had been sitting dragged and scraped along the floor a little as they hauled Cinder up. She weighed a lot more than Sunset had been expecting — probably thanks to the gravity dust, although Sunset couldn't discount the possibility that Cinder's dress was hiding a surprising amount of muscle — but with aura, and with Pyrrha there to help with the literal heavy lifting, they were able to manhandle Cinder out of the interrogation room.

And it was manhandling, because Cinder seemed to be averse to assisting with her own movement in any way, shape, or form. She let her glass slippers drag along the floor, the toe step scraping at the linoleum, while Cinder hung almost limp in the grasp of Sunset and Pyrrha, like a dead stag that had been shot by the hunters who, now, having killed the creature, had the difficult task of getting its carcass back to their waiting transportation.

The difference being that the hunters asked for this, Sunset thought, as she grunted with the effort of pulling an unresponsive Cinder along. "Would it kill you to move your legs a little?"

"You do remember that I'm about to be hanged by the neck until dead, don't you?"

"Okay, yes, that was in poor taste, I admit, but even so—"

"And my legs are shackled together, if you'll recall," Cinder responded, in a tone that would have seemed very affable under different circumstances.

"Even so," Sunset muttered. "You know you'll ruin your slippers letting them drag on the floor like that."

Cinder's response was to suck in a sharp intake of breath and, with a grunt of exertion all her own, raise her legs up off the floor.

"Oh thanks, thank you very much!" Sunset snapped. "You know, sometimes, you can be absolutely insufferable!"

"Only sometimes?" asked Pyrrha and Cinder at the same time.

Cinder grinned. Pyrrha cleared her throat a little too loudly.

"Somehow, Sunset, I doubt that I'll have much occasion for amusement in what remains of my life," Cinder said. "You must allow me to have my fun while I yet live."

Sunset gave a wordless growl, though directed less at Cinder and more at the fact — of which she had just been reminded — that Cinder was going to die … and there was nothing she could do about it.

Sunset had her faults, Celestia knew. She had her faults, and those faults had led her to make some bad decisions and do some things that she wasn't proud of, things that she regretted. Things that would destroy her life if they came out. But whatever else she was — and she could be called many things, no doubt — she was … Sunset searched for a word for what she was that didn't sound unbelievably arrogant, aggrandising, mythologising.

She didn't want to call herself a saviour, a protector; that sounded too grand, too full of herself, too … too much, much too much. But equally, all the more prosaic alternatives sounded rather wordy: a saver of people, it just sounded as though she was dancing around saviour.

She wasn't a saviour, but she was … she saved people, that was the long and the short of it: she saved people. She had saved Pyrrha from Amber, or rather, it made Amber sound less menacing to say that she had saved Pyrrha and Amber from one another, and from Professor Ozpin's reluctant ill-intentions; she had helped save Amber from Cinder; she had saved Miss Pole in Arcadia Lake from the Tantabus and from Evenfall Gleaming; she had saved Blake from Adam.

She had saved all of her friends under Mountain Glenn, although that … that was certainly not something that she wished to put herself on a pedestal over.

Nevertheless, she … she didn't let people die. She might … she might play some part in their deaths, but she had never been one to stand by and let someone perish while she could do something, anything, to prevent it. She found a way, just as she had with Amber and Pyrrha.

But this? How was she supposed to save Cinder? How was she supposed to find a way when the whole apparatus of the Valish state was turned against her, and as importantly, so were Sunset's friends?

Because there were easy ways to save Cinder, provided that one was prepared to damn the consequences, but Sunset was not prepared to damn the consequences. She wanted to save Cinder's life, but she wasn't about to just spring her right here and now, or teleport away with her somewhere.

She wasn't going to betray the others like that, not Pyrrha or Ruby, Professor Ozpin, not even First Councillor Emerald.

But, since she wasn't going to take such a step, since she didn't have the kind of … since she didn't have it in her, for good or ill, then what was she to do?

And no, it didn't matter that Cinder didn't seem to care much about being saved. Since when had Sunset ever cared about that?

What mattered was that she couldn't see a way.

I suppose if I was a real saviour, I'd just do it even though it meant everyone thought I was as much of a monster as Cinder.

I'm not sure a real monster would put Cinder back on the streets, in all honesty.

I'm not a saviour, I've just got an aversion to loss. Like an allergy for the soul.

Except I wouldn't change it. It's who I am. It is my crowning glory yet, for all that it has brought me shame.

Yet nowm it fails me. I cannot see a way.

Cannot see a safe way, for what that might be worth.


"Sunset?" Pyrrha asked.

"What?" Sunset responded, her head — which had become bent and bowed down to the floor — snapping up and around to look at her. "Yes, did I miss something?"

"That depends," Pyrrha said. "But it has felt a little as though I've been leading you around as well as Cinder."

"Right, sorry," Sunset muttered. "I was just—"

"Yes," Pyrrha said softly. "Yes, I imagine you were."

"Sorry," Sunset said again.

"We've all done it," Pyrrha said. "At least, you and I have."

"Not when we were carrying someone who refuses to pull anything like their own weight," Sunset pointed out.

"I was managing," Pyrrha said mildly.

But Sunset was glad that Pyrrha had roused her from her thoughts, both because they were approaching a flight of stairs, but also because Sunset's thoughts were going nowhere, and getting her nowhere, for that matter.

It didn't help, but focussing on the immediate destination, and of carrying Cinder there, was a welcome distraction. They carried Cinder — still refusing to help at all and taking a perverse glee in the lack of assistance — down a flight of stairs into the precinct basement, and from there, they followed some empty corridors, carried Cinder passed a couple of large printer/scanner/photocopiers that were obstructing the corridor, bore her between walls of breezeblock painted white, and all the while under the fluorescent lights that shone sterile light down upon them.

That might have been preferable to the oppressive — if appropriate — darkness of the dark room into which they finally got Cinder.

There was no one-way mirror here, no glass to see in, no cameras mounted in the corners, nothing to see, nothing to hear. Nothing but a small metal table and a chair with a wooden back, with slats running up and down it that, in the circumstances, looked a little bit like prison bars.

Sunset was a little worried about tripping, so dark was the room. But it seemed that it was as barren as it was dark, because they were able to get Cinder across the room and into the seat facing the door without incident.

Sunset let out a deep breath. "I hope you enjoyed that," she said.

"It was somewhat of a bumpy ride, but I'll be sure to give you a good review regardless," Cinder said. "I'd give you a tip, too, but I'm a little financially embarrassed at the moment."

Sunset rolled her eyes. "Yes, well, we…" It seemed absurd that this was how it would end, that this would be the last time that she would ever see Cinder, the last time that she would talk to her, and yet…

Perhaps it was inevitable, as Pyrrha and Ruby and everyone else said. Perhaps it was the natural consequence of the roads that they were on, yet nevertheless … Sunset didn't like it. She didn't like it one bit.

And regardless of how she liked or didn't like it, surely, they could all agree that it was absurd that this — this — should be the final moment between them. This!

"I…" I don't want to go. I don't want our last words to be sniping at you about a stupid thing that you did.

I don't want it to end like this.

I want to save you.

But I don't know how.


Cinder leaned back in her chair. "You know," she said, "I would much rather talk to you," — she glanced at Pyrrha — "both of you, I suppose." She returned her gaze and attention to Sunset. "I would much rather talk to you than to Ozpin."

"If that is what you wish, Miss Fall, then I don't see why you shouldn't," Professor Ozpin said as he walked into the dark room.

Sunset looked in his direction. "Professor?"

Professor Ozpin closed the door behind him. "I am not so fond of the sound of my own voice that I must hear it," he observed. "If Miss Fall would rather speak to you than to me, if she would rather hear you ask the questions which I trust you know to ask, then … by all means, I have no objections. Whatever helps this process to go as smoothly as possible. The truth is all that matters. If Miss Fall would rather give the truth to you, and to Miss Nikos, then … you won't even know I'm here."

He smiled benevolently as she leaned against the wall beside the door.

Cinder bowed her head. "Thank you, Professor; that is most courteous of you, most gentlemanly."

"But why?" Sunset asked. "Why us?"

"Why you?" Cinder repeated, disbelief in her tone. "Why you? Come, Sunset, don't you know?" She paused for a moment, before a smile crossed her face. "It's because I want something from you in return." She winked.

"Of course you do," Pyrrha muttered.

"It is no onerous task, I assure you," Cinder replied. "It will make no great demand upon your time — well, it may make some demand upon your time, but not upon your body or your soul. I do not ask that we should exchange armour, like Glauce and Helen, or that you should ransom me back the body of my daughter and my royal heir. It is nothing so … it is no great sacrifice I ask of you."

"Then … what is it?" Sunset asked, sitting down on the edge of the table, looking directly down on Cinder. "What is that you would have of us? What is it that is in our power to grant?"

A rescue or a swift death.

"There was a time when I hoped for immortality," Cinder murmured. "There was a time I dreamed of glory. That was what it was all about, really. Yes, power, I sought power, power to make myself safe and secure, power so that the likes of Phoebe and the rest of this bastard world could never hurt me again, but more than that … I wanted the world to know my name. I wanted Remnant to know who I was, to know that Cinder Fall was somebody."

"Somebody to be feared," Sunset murmured. "Somebody to be hated?"

"Well, it was clear to me that I was never going to be loved," Cinder said. "But I could at least — I hoped I could, at least — write my name into the history books with infamy; though writers would record how awful I was, how I killed and ate up what I killed, how I slew the fairest and most promising flower that grew on the mountain and thus deserved to be cursed forevermore…" She glanced at Pyrrha. "At least they would record me. At least they would recall me. I would not just be one among the many who live and die in obscurity on the lower slopes, forgotten, cast aside, flushed out with the sewage."

She bowed her head. "It hasn't really worked out, has it?" She laughed, though there was more sadness than merriment in her laugh. "But … if you … if both of you, if…" She looked up into Sunset's eyes. "Remember me. That is my price. I will tell you all you wish to know, and some that you will wish you did not know, but before that, I wish … I ask that you hear my story and that you remember me. Remember me, I … for I would not be forgotten. I would not fade, I would not disappear, I would … I would live on, in the hearts of … I would live on in your hearts, though Emerald tells me that that is impossible. I would be remembered. That is not so much to ask, is it?"

"No," Sunset said softly as she found herself leaning forward a little. "No, it … it isn't much to ask. Not at all."

Pyrrha looked a little less happy about it, with the way her lips were pursed together, but even she took a step closer to Cinder. "I suppose … it is not too great a request, as you say. It is … you have been a dangerous enemy. At times, you have been a fearful one. I was not wholly confident that I would survive you, going into our duel."

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

"In that way," Pyrrha went on, "you are worthy of remembrance, at least. You will … you mean to start at the beginning, then?"

"At the beginning," Cinder said softly. "Well, yes, I would start at the beginning, except that … except that I don't have a beginning. I simply sprang, fully formed, out of the darkness like a grimm. Do you know how the grimm are made?" She looked at Professor Ozpin. "I would have thought that you would know, but then, if you know, why keep it a secret?"

"Does it matter?" Pyrrha asked. "Amongst my people, our people, there were some who believed that they were Seraphis' punishment for a sinful humanity, others who believed that they were animals corrupted by dark spirits, and others yet who thought them gods. There are still some who worship them as higher beings, more perfect than we are. None of it changes their nature, or what we must do to fight them, or even how we fight them."

"No, no, I suppose it doesn't," Cinder allowed. "In any case, if we got onto that, I daresay that I might stretch your patience, and I wouldn't want you to get bored before we've even started talking about me yet." She smirked. "Now, where was I?"

"You have no beginning," Sunset remarked. "And at this rate, you will have no ending either."

Cinder snorted. "Oh, very good, Sunset." She paused. "Even so, I have no beginning. I was born as you see me now, Cinder Fall, fashioned as if out of the clay. But there was a beginning. There was a girl, once. A stupid, naïve girl, who believed in joy and love and happiness—"

"She sounds very wise," Pyrrha said.

"We should all hope to be so foolish," Sunset added.

Cinder did not respond to that, but carried on as if they had not spoken. "She died, poor thing; she died, but not before the world taught her the error of her ways, how wrong she was to believe in stupid dreams. This life, this world … it killed the dream she dreamed, and as it killed her dream … so it killed her.

"But, for a while at least, she was happy, and safe … and loved. She was born in Argus, to … honest parents, but not poor ones. M— her father had wealth from … he had it from his father, who I think had been in business. Yes, yes, he had been a trader of sorts; he had owned an airship — although he never flew it, as I understand, he paid people to do that; he just took a cut of the profit — plying the route between Argus and Atlas, bringing tobacco, tea, and silk to the northland and bringing back dust in great store. He was so successful that he was able to buy more ships and left a small fleet of vessels for his son to inherit, that his son became a notable man about the city.

"It was due to his notability that the little girl's father was invited to attend the annual Town and Base Ball held at the Argus military base, where the garrison opened its doors to civic notables and dignitaries in the aim of building better relations with the civilian population. And there, across a crowded room, the little girl's father met the little girl's mother, who was a young airship pilot newly assigned to the Argus station.

"He used to tell the little girl stories about her mother," Cinder murmured. "When she was old enough to understand them. He used to tell them even after … well, even when he had to tell them very softly, and very secretly, he used to tell her anyway, because he loved her so. Because she was his first love, and his true love, and a part of him remained true to her in spite of everything." Cinder closed her eyes, screwing them up tight, and then blinked rapidly.

Sunset wondered if she might be trying to blink back tears, but no, she could not see them coming.

"Which I think speaks well of that man's character, don't you?" Cinder asked, looking up, her eyes flitting between Pyrrha and Sunset. "I think that a man should be faithful to his first love, don't you? All this modern talk of moving forward, moving on, finding new beginnings … all rot and nonsense. Offensive. Wicked. I might even call it profane." She looked at Pyrrha. "Don't you agree, Pyrrha? Men should be faithful in their hearts and hold dear the memories of those who gave them their hearts, even when they are gone?"

"I…" Pyrrha hesitated for a moment. "Is that not rather cruel, such a request? What if they have many years ahead of them? Must they spend it in loneliness?"

"Better to be lonely than to be a traitor," Cinder said.

"And what of women?" asked Pyrrha. "Do they not have an equal duty to fidelity? Or are the rules that bind men so tightly relaxed for them?"

"Is it possible for a woman to betray the memory of love as men do?" Cinder asked. "What do you think, Sunset? Are women capable of getting over it, the way men do? Or is all the glory of our sex the curse of loving longer, and more hardily, despite the circumstances?"

"Women are capable of realising when they have been in the wrong," Sunset said. "When what they may have thought was love was something more noxious by far. But, at the same time…" She licked her lips. "I fear I am of your colour in the rest, I … if Pyrrha were to fall, and I were to see Jaune turn to embrace Weiss or Yang in his arms, I would curse them both."

"You are more cruel than I then," Pyrrha murmured. "I would only wish him happiness."

"I know," Sunset said. "That is why I said I fear it so, yet it is who I am; I am not of this travelling temperament, I cannot change it. Not without great effort, anyway." She ran one hand through her hair. "I think I would rather hear about this little girl's parents than continue this discussion, for just as I fear my nature, I fear the revelations of my nature make me seem a beastly sort in Pyrrha's eyes."

"I have never told myself that you were perfect," Pyrrha said quietly. "But I am in agreement with you; say on, please."

"Very well," Cinder said, leaning back in her chair. "Where was I?"

"Your … the little girl's parents had just met, in Argus," Sunset said. "At the Town and Base Ball. Y— her father told her stories."

"Yes, yes, he told her stories," Cinder agreed. "Such stories. He told m— he told her about the dress that she was wearing that night, and how nervous he was to ask her to dance. She was an Atlesian officer, after all, and thus, however beautiful she looked in her dress, how gracefully she moved upon the floor, she was bound also to be as fierce and deadly as a hawk, as proud as a queen. Plus, as he told it, every officer and gentleman wished to dance with her, handsome young gallants of Mistral and Atlas; why would she want to dance with someone like him, a merchant with soft hands and spectacles over his eyes?" Cinder smiled. "But she did. Eros fired his arrows that night, and the two of them were drawn together by fate, whom no man can escape. They danced two dances, then the little girl's mother danced with one of her fellow pilots, but after that, nothing would please her but that she should dance with the girl's father again. Two days later, he offered to show her around the city, since she was new to Argus. A few days after that, she took him ice skating, and he made an adorable fool of himself upon the ice.

"By their third date, he was sufficiently convinced that she was the one that the girl's father proposed marriage." Cinder sniffed. "Jaune needs to shape up."

Pyrrha's only reply to that was a snort.

"What kind of family did the girl's mother come from?" Sunset asked, despite herself. It wasn't important, obviously, and some might no doubt have said that it was Sunset's duty to move all this along as swiftly as she could … but there was a part of her that wanted to know all the same.

And if they were going to remember Cinder, then some would say it was their duty to remember as much of her as they possibly could.

"An ordinary one, I think," Cinder replied. "She was more guarded in talking about her family. As I understand, they disapproved of her marrying a man she had just met. They made her choose, and she made her choice. I believe … I believe there was a brother, in Atlas, but the little girl never met him, never heard from him, never … he was not a part of her life. Her mother's family were irrelevant to her; they might as well have been dead.

"Which didn't bother the little girl, because what you don't know, who you don't know, you don't miss. She had her mother, and she had her father — I fear that I have gotten ahead of myself, but suffice to say that the merchant of Argus and the Atlesian pilot were soon married, and only little over nine months after, the pilot was delivered of a healthy baby girl. A happy little girl, who spent her earliest years in the city of Argus." Cinder frowned. "When did you come to Argus, Pyrrha?"

"Not until I was thirteen, to go to Combat School," Pyrrha said. "After I had completed my training with Chiron — although I still returned to him during the summer vacation, and I was absent from Sanctum to compete in tournaments."

Cinder nodded. "You and that little girl, then, were never in the city at the same time. Your paths did not cross, not even as ships passing in the night, you coming to the city as she left it. You see, the little girl, this foolish girl, this spoiled girl whose parents gave her every luxury and comfort … this girl who wore pretty frocks and ribbons in her hair of all the colours of the rainbow, this girl who collected little glass animals, all lined upon the shelves, a glass menagerie of elegant creatures, all the beasts and birds of Remnant in miniature; this girl who was so loved, who was loving and beloved, this girl who thought that life could be a fairytale … when she was six years old, her mother didn't return from a mission. She was answering a distress call from a freighter, although I didn't learn that until much, much later. All the little girl knew was that her mother wasn't coming home, and that her father was sad, and that all the comforting Atlesian platitudes about duty and sacrifice and all the rest of that crap, all the volley salutes and carefully folding up the flag couldn't disguise the fact that mommy was gone. That Atlas had taken her away."

"Cinder," Sunset murmured, reaching out across the table towards Cinder's hands.

Cinder jerked her hands away. "We're not talking about me yet, Sunset. This all happened to someone else. Someone who has passed beyond the need for your pity."

Sunset sucked in a sharp breath. "Of course," she muttered. "Of course, you're right, how stupid of me. I should have remembered." She paused a moment. "But, nevertheless, it occurs to me that, if it hadn't been for Atlas, that little girl's father and mother would never have met, and she would never have come to be."

Cinder stared at her and made no reply, just stared at Sunset for moments that passed, as though she had once more lapsed into the stillness that she had settled into in the other interrogation room.

Then she resumed her story. "The little girl's father was unable to bear his grief in Argus, haunted as it was by the memory of his late wife, so full of the places that they had gone and the things they had done together. And so, he sold his stake in the business, sold his house, and took his careless, spoiled little girl back with him to Mistral, from whence his family had hailed before his father set out to seek his fortune in Argus. There, he met another woman, a woman by the name of Lady Kommenos. Her first name wasn't 'Lady' of course, her name was Alexia, but almost everybody called her 'Lady Kommenos' or 'my lady,' so her first name might as well have been 'Lady.' I imagine it's the same for your mother, isn't it, Pyrrha? And it will be the same for you, eventually. You've got a life of being 'Lady Nikos' to look forward to, until the only hard evidence that you were ever called Pyrrha at all is some Vytal memorabilia that has survived in the collections of obsessive fans."

Pyrrha cleared her throat. "Stick to the point, please."

"'The point'?" Cinder asked. "Yes, I suppose I ought to have a point, oughtn't I? The point, the point, the point. Well, yes, the point is that he met a woman named Lady Kommenos, a woman of good, if not of first rate family, the current head of a house which, for all that it had had its ups and downs, for all that there were some who questioned its worthiness, for all that some said that they descended from traitors who had sold out their kingdom during the Great War and deserved to hang for it — with a silk rope, obviously — nevertheless retained noble status, and some claim to ancestral virtue through deeds done both long ago and more recently, through the valour of Achates Kommenos, who had remained faithful to the Empire and the Emperor during the War.

"He never loved her, of course, the little girl's father. How could he love her, such a cold-hearted bitch as she was? How could he love someone so wretched, so ruthless, so conniving, so self-centred, so utterly and completely incapable of love? How could he go from his first wife, beautiful, kind, warm-hearted, the most perfect wife and mother, the most perfect woman that the gods could fashion … how could he go from Alcestis to a harpy? How could he make such a downward step?"

"No doubt," Sunset said, for she had experienced the answer — or what Cinder believed to be the answer — in her own soul, when she discovered her semblance, "he was thinking of his daughter. How she needed a mother's care."

Cinder laughed. She threw back her head and roared with laughter. "Yes. Yes, I'm sure that's exactly what he was thinking. 'A mother's care' indeed, his very words. His very words as he sat that little girl down on the bed and told her that he meant to propose marriage to Lady Kommenos. After all, she came from a good family, the best family that a man of his background could hope to marry into, especially as a widower with a child, his child who would be protected by the match. It was all for his child, his little darling, his beloved daughter. That's what he told her, anyway. She would be a lady, which was almost the same as being a princess from a fairytale. Doors would be opened to her, she would attend the very best parties and wear the very best dresses, and handsome young men would come courting her. She would want for nothing, she would be able to do whatever she wanted, she would hold all of Mistral in the palm of her hand, free to do as she wished, and none would gainsay her. It sounds a wonderful vision to describe, doesn't it?"

"It is not so simple as that," Pyrrha murmured. "Even in the best circumstances."

"No," Cinder agreed. "No, not even in the best circumstances. He was a liar, that man, her father. He lied to her. He told her that it was all for her, because on top of everything else, she would have a mother again." Cinder's voice suddenly rose, becoming very high-pitched, ending somewhere in the region of Ruby's voice, or even higher than that. "'But papa,' the little girl said, 'I don't want another mother.' 'Well too bad,' her father said, although not in as many words, 'you need a mother to take care of you, and I mean to make sure that you get one.'"

"And in return," Pyrrha said, "Lady Kommenos received his money, I suppose. That, at least, was what my mother always believed: that Lady Kommenos had married a wealthy man of the middle class because the financial position of the Kommenos family was not as secure as it seemed, and she needed to shore it up."

"I don't know," Cinder admitted. "I was never privy to the accounts, and neither was the little girl, but it wouldn't surprise me. The Kommenos family didn't have the broad foundations of prosperity which the likes of Nikos or Rutulus or Thrace or Ming rest on; they didn't have vast landed estates that had survived the Great War. So it might be true that they needed that girl's father's money, and that they relied on it after … but again, I get ahead of myself. The little girl's father married Lady Kommenos, showing either that the gods had stolen his wits away or that it was a complete fluke that he had been able to recognise the excellence of his first wife when he saw her across a crowded room."

"Or that he was prepared to swallow a lot for his daughter's sake," Sunset suggested.

I've become so used to reflexively defending people's parents and parental figures after they fall out that I'm now entering the lists to champion a man who has been dead for years.

"Much good it did her," Cinder said. "If that really was his motive, then he was … but no matter. His motives are of little import now, and he cannot tell them. Suffice to say that he married Lady Kommenos, and the little girl gained a stepmother, and two stepsisters a few years older than her: Phoebe, whom you both know very well, and Philonoe."

Cinder looked at Pyrrha. "If anyone has a cause to hold a grudge against you, Pyrrha Nikos, it would be that little girl, if she lived. All those times that you defeated Phoebe, all those times that you humiliated her, all those times that you made her look pathetic, incompetent, useless, even though she was older and stronger than you, did you ever think about how she felt? About what she did when she got home, who she took her frustrations out on?"

Pyrrha was silent for a moment, and for a moment more after that. "No," she admitted. "No, I did not."

"You were only a child; it's not your fault," Sunset said. "It's not Pyrrha's fault," she repeated. "What happened to … to that little girl, it wasn't Pyrrha's doing; she didn't make Phoebe … it would have happened anyway, probably."

"Because Phoebe was inherently vicious and cruel?" Cinder asked. "Yes, I suppose you might have a point there. In any event, she didn't become truly unbearable until after the little girl's father died, when she was nine years old."

Pyrrha nodded. "And shortly after that, the stepdaughter of the Kommenos family disappeared from public life. It was … even years later, it was something whispered of the Kommenos family. Lady Kommenos said she was dead, of the same sickness that had taken her father."

"Did people believe her?" Cinder asked.

"Some," Pyrrha replied. "Some thought that Lady Kommenos had poisoned them both in order to secure her husband's fortune. Others … whispered of darker things."

"But nobody did anything but whisper," Cinder said.

"No," Pyrrha said defensively. "Phoebe was … a bit of a bad sport at times, and yes, she could show flashes of a nasty temper, but to leap from that to assuming that she was … that she would … she was a lady of Mistral, the daughter of a noble house—"

"And so she was above suspicion?" Cinder asked.

Pyrrha swallowed. "It was believed that she would abide by a certain set of standards and values, yes."

"Well, she didn't," Cinder snapped. "Far from it, in fact. So far from it as to make mock of all your standards and your values, even while I think that Phoebe Kommenos was the truest expression of what it means to be a Mistralian aristocrat that lives, or lived, until very recently. Her cruelty, and not your beauty fair, your kindness, your humility, Phoebe was the true face of Mistral."

"No," Pyrrha declared. "No, I do not accept that; Mistral is not so foul. There are many good and honourable people amongst its upper echelons."

"Are there?" Cinder asked. "Name some of them?"

"Lady Medea, of Colchis, though her manner be a little … disconcerting, at times," Pyrrha said. "And apart from that, the Lady Terri-Belle, the Steward's daughter, another who can be a little blunt and direct but is a valiant warrior and an honourable one, a good Warden of the White Tower and a devoted protector of the city." She hesitated. "Lady Medea's teammates, Jason and Meleager, although as children, we were … not close, I think they have grown up to be huntsmen of good heart. Hector—"

"I was not expecting a list," Cinder admitted. "It must be nice, to move in the right circles so that you can meet so many nice people. Or perhaps it's just nice to be so protected by your money, by your grand old name, by your reputation that wafts before you stronger than perfume, that everyone falls over themselves to at least feign niceness towards you, because they don't dare do anything else."

"Cinder," Sunset said sharply. "Lay off."

"Forgive me," Cinder said quickly. "I … you must allow me a little bitterness, in the circumstances. You see, after her father died, that little girl … she saw all her dreams, all her hopes, all her naïve and stupid beliefs about the way the world worked … she saw them all come crashing down around her. Without her father to protect her, the true nature of the Kommenos family was revealed: cold, cruel, grimly determined to promote their own interests, no matter who they had to hurt to do so. The little girl was abused, humiliated, stripped of her prized belongings, forced to watch as her glass menagerie was smashed for sport. All those beautiful creatures, so pretty, that glimmered in the light with such loveliness … all broken. All shattered. All destroyed, and for what? Just to make the little girl who loved them miserable, to make her cry, to remind her that she was all alone in that house with no one to protect her. And now I find out that everyone thought that she was dead! Well, they weren't too far off the mark. They killed that little girl, Phoebe and Philonoe and Lady Kommenos, but Phoebe most of all. They killed that little girl, so sweet and loving, and in her place … in her place was someone who would steal the keys, lock up all the doors and windows, and then set fire to the house with Lady Kommenos and Philonoe trapped inside." Cinder smiled. "I could hear them banging around in there, trying to get out as the flames devoured them."

"They were two people you condemned to burn to death!" Pyrrha cried. "Two human beings!"

"Two humans? What were their names?" Cinder asked. "Because their names were not Lady Kommenos and Philonoe, I assure you."

"Just because they were—"

"What?" Cinder demanded. "Just because they were what, Pyrrha Nikos? Do not make light of what they were, or of what they made that little girl endure. I will not suffer that. They got what was coming to them, and so did Phoebe."

"So you did kill her," Sunset said. "Phoebe, I mean?"

"Of course I killed her," Cinder said. "Who else would have?"

"I'm not sure," Sunset said. "But it clears things up now that you've admitted to it."

"Happy I could help."

"You do not regret?" Pyrrha asked. "Not even a little?"

"Regret what?" asked Cinder in turn. "I have regrets, to be sure, but if you're asking if I regret what I did to Lady Kommenos, to Philonoe? No. I had cause. They had earned the fates that befall them ten times over. Am I not entitled to revenge the wrongs that were done to Ashley? Am I not allowed my anger, and to inflict that anger and the wrongs done upon those who did the wrongs?"

"No," Pyrrha said. "Not according to the law."

"If the law denies me justice, then fie upon the law!" cried Cinder. "If the law binds those whom it does not protect and protects those whom it does not bind, then what right has law to claim the standing of moral right? What right has law to deny the right of vengeance? There are older things than the current laws of Mistral. Ancient laws and older customs still. Simple laws, perhaps, but aren't simple laws the best? Kick the altar, pay the price? I gave them the only justice that would ever be visited upon them. I will not try and say that about all those whom I have killed, some I will admit did not deserve to die, and some … some I will even own that I regret, but them? Those two? No. No, their deaths are not near my conscience; they do not move me. By all the old customs, I had the right to take their lives."

"The old days are no more," Pyrrha informed her. "And the old ways with them."

"Perhaps that is a cause for pity, not for rejoicing," Cinder said.

"The old ways would have made me a slave," Sunset reminded her.

Cinder's mouth opened with no words coming out. She stayed that way for a couple of seconds, frozen with her mouth open like a frog trying to catch flies. "Well," she said eventually, "it seems that Pyrrha isn't the only one who can embody a sanitised version of our Mistralian history."

Sunset shook her head. "What happened after you killed Lady Kommenos and her daughter?"

Cinder shrugged. "I spent some time amongst the criminals of the lower slopes, I made an unsuccessful attempt to infiltrate the high society of the high mountain … but I didn't really belong in either of them. I didn't feel like I fit in anywhere. I was … I was too covered in ashes for the high, too ambitious for the low, because I was ambitious. I had a destiny, you see. A grand and glorious destiny. Everything that I endured, everything that I suffered, it was all just a prologue to the glories that were to come. All my sufferings were simply tests of my resolve, of my ability to endure. One day, it would all come good. One day, I would be rewarded. One day, I would have such power that nobody could ever hurt me again.

"One day, my name would live in glory alongside the likes of Pyrrha's namesake, the two Juturnas, Camilla, Penelope, Theseus, and Alcestis, the great heroes of our storied past. One day, they would remember Cinder Fall in such exalted company."

"Even if only as a villain?" Sunset asked. "A killer? A nightmare?"

"Better to be remembered as a monster of nightmare than to be forgotten as the kindliest little ant that ever crawled about underfoot, no?" asked Cinder.

"No," Sunset said. "No, I … I once thought as you did, I admit, but now … to be an ant, surrounded by other ants who love it, who offer without reservation the treasure of their company … that is a finer thing than to be the most infamous demon or the most exalted hero who ever sat upon their high pedestals, far removed from all others."

"I must confess that I … since I began to … I have enjoyed Emerald's company of late," Cinder said. "She made a better friend than a servant or a minion."

"Where is Emerald?" asked Pyrrha.

"Gone," Cinder said at once. "Whither she has gone, I know not, but she has gone. She has gone where she will, and I wish her joy of it. I sent her away."

"Why?" asked Sunset.

"Because … because I cared about her," Cinder admitted. "Because I didn't want her to get hurt. Because I knew how this would end, or at least, I thought I did, and I didn't want her to get caught up in it. She deserved better than that."

Pyrrha's eyebrows rose a little. "I … see."

"Do you?" Cinder asked. "Do you really? Or have I managed to shock you with my nobility?"

"You shock us because you sound like you intended to lose," Sunset said. "What's going on, Cinder; what was tonight about?"

"We haven't gotten to that part of the story yet," Cinder said.

"Right, no, we haven't, have we?" Sunset muttered. "Have we got to the part of the story where you explain to us how you entered into Salem's service? I mean, I can understand why you did — you wanted power, you wanted greatness, and Salem could offer you both those things — but … how? Nobody even knows Salem exists—"

"But people find her anyway," Cinder pointed out.

"Exactly my point," Sunset said. "How did you? How … how did you end up this way?"

"I chased a legend," Cinder said. "Obviously. You know the story of how the prophetess Helen died, of the bandit and the Dark Mother?"

"We do," Sunset said. "The Dark Mother told the bandit how she could attain great power by killing the prophetess, which she did, and used it to take over Mistral and become the first Red Queen. The Dark Mother was Salem, I take it; she'd found out — or worked out — how the Maiden powers worked and wanted to use them, and the trinket that she asked for in return, that was the Relic of…" She glanced at Professor Ozpin. "The Relic, it doesn't matter which one it is, but the Relic held under … where were the relics held before the Academies?"

"You assume, Miss Shimmer, that the Relics were stored beneath the Academies," Professor Ozpin said, speaking for the first time since Cinder had begun her account, "and not that the Academies were built over the vaults of the Relics."

"In any case, you're right," Cinder said. "Salem was the Dark Mother, or the Dark Mother was Salem, either way. But how did she find the bandit? How did she seek out this outlaw, and why? Why her, out of all the brigands in Anima, in Remnant, why her?"

"Because she was eligible to possess the Maiden powers?" Pyrrha guessed.

"But how would Salem know that?" asked Cinder.

"Magic?" suggested Pyrrha.

"Magic can do a lot, but it isn't an answer for everything," Sunset murmured. "But don't keep us in suspense, Cinder; if you know how she did it, then tell us."

"There is a tale," Cinder said, "that the bandit was not sought out by the Dark Mother, as the version of the Red Queen that is commonly told would have you believe; rather, it is said that a part of the tale is missing, that it was … misplaced, and that this missing part of the story tells that it was the bandit who first sought out the Dark Mother.

"In this lost part of the fable, the bandit, harassed by the Empress' household warriors and desirous to find a way to save her robber band, went to a certain cave, a cave that was said to be the entrance to the underworld itself, where if one went down and down and far enough down, they would find themselves amongst the spirits of the dead and the spirits of those yet unborn waiting by the river Toth to rise to join their physical bodies on the appointed day. The bandit, it is said, went to this cave, and though she did not find any underworld there, no spirits of the dead, no clue to Mistral's future and its heroes yet to come, she did find an immense pit, a gaping maw of darkness. And, though it was too dark to see, the bandit nevertheless perceived that something dwelt within. And so, she offered her plea to the darkness: she was a brigand, a bandit, a killer, and a thief, and she sought power to protect her people from those who would do them harm.

"From the darkness, it is said, came there no answer; but a few days later, the bandit was visited by the Dark Mother, who told her how she might obtain the power she sought, and so much more besides."

Sunset swallowed, for her throat had become dry. "And … and is that true?" she asked. "Is that how you found Salem, did you … did you find this cave?"

"I did," Cinder said, so simply, so casually, as though it was the most natural thing in the world that she had just described. "After all, the bandit and I had things in common; our wants were not dissimilar. And I thought … I thought that if there was any chance that the Dark Mother or someone like her would give me power, as she had pointed the way to the Red Queen, well … it was a chance worth taking, no? I couldn't see how else I was to achieve my destiny; if I had another choice, I could not tell what it might be. And so, yes, I found the cave, although to put it so simply risks underselling the difficulty of it. Do you know how hard it was to find one specific cave in Anima? There are caves everywhere! If the location of this particular cave was ever widely known, it has long been forgotten, and it wasn't as though I was welcome in any library to do research, scruffy-looking urchin as I was, with a malnourished and an unwashed look. I had to rely on scraps of geography mentioned in some versions of the legend, on local myths and old names by which places were sometimes known in days long gone. And by physically setting out across the wilds of Anima to find some of these places and see if they were what I was looking for.

"It was not always an easy road. It was often cold, there was very little shelter, my clothes fell apart, and I didn't always have money for new clothes, or for food. I had set out to follow in the footsteps of a bandit, and for a time, I became a bandit myself. After all, while I had no money, no food, and no clothes, I had taught myself to fight, and I had weapons, and when you are cold and hungry on the road, and you have a bow and a sword and the person coming down the road in your direction has food or lien but no bow and no sword and no aura to protect him … I don't need to spell out the temptation, do I? A temptation I was not always physically equal to resisting, and what resistance I made was as much to do with not wanting huntsmen set on my tail as anything else.

"Even then, subsisting upon the proceeds of banditry left my stomach aching, my body shivering, my skin clinging to my bones as my clothes turned ragged. It rained, it snowed, or else it was too hot, and I was drenched in sweat as I plodded on, step after step, under the heat of the sun. Only the thought of my destiny, only the thought that, one day, this would all come good, that it would all be worthwhile, only that belief kept me going." Cinder snorted. "It seems I am as much a fool as that little girl."

"But you did find the place?" asked Sunset. "You found the cave that you were looking for?"

Cinder nodded. "I did, eventually. I found the cave, the right cave, and just as the bandit had done before me, I went down into the dark and offered up my truth and my desire. I was a murderer, I confessed, and I wanted to rise so high that all would be forced to look up to me in awe."

"And terror," Pyrrha murmured.

"Terror is a form of awe, don't you think?"

"So you spoke to the darkness," Sunset said. "And then what? Did Salem visit you, as she had the bandit?"

"No," Cinder said. "No it was a grimm who answered from out of the darkness, a giant grimm that swallowed me whole."

Sunset blinked. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Cinder insisted. "It swallowed me, and the last thing that I remembered was the great bony head of this monster erupting towards me out of the darkness, with burning red eyes, and then … nothing. Nothing until I opened my eyes again, and I was … somewhere else. Somewhere else altogether. Not Anima, a different place, a dead place, no birds, no beasts, no grass or flowers, a dead world of barren rock under a blood-red sky.

"And Salem, standing over me, offering me a hand to help me up." Cinder smiled. "Or perhaps the grimm ate me, and everything has been a sort of fever dream in my last moments as I am digested."

"I hope not," Pyrrha said.

"No," Cinder agreed. "No, I rather hope not too; that would be very disappointing, that … that wouldn't do at all." She paused. "She was terrifying, Salem. Terrifying and alluring and majestic and … powerful. She showed me her ability to command the grimm, she showed me some of her magic, and she convinced me that she was the one who could answer all my prayers. She was the one who could help me achieve my destiny, and my heart's desire."

"And so you agreed to work for her," Sunset said.

"You agreed to help her wreak destruction on the kingdoms," Pyrrha said sternly.

"What had the kingdoms ever done for me?" asked Cinder. "Yes, I agreed to be her servant. I knelt to her and swore her my allegiance, to be her sword and faithful servant. She, in turn, promised to be a good and faithful mistress, that I should always have a place at her table."

"And then she sent you to kill Amber," Pyrrha said.

"No, first, she told me of her own need," Cinder said, "of the Relics and that the only way to open the vaults that held them was to possess the Maiden powers. Then I made my plan, I recruited Emerald and Mercury and Lightning Dust, I hired Roman Torchwick, and I approached Adam Taurus of the White Fang, who refused me, at first. He didn't want his people dying for a human cause. Or that's what he said. I think, as much as anything, he just didn't believe that I could pull it off.

"Then, after all that, I attacked Amber."

"How did you know where she was?" Sunset asked. "Or rather, I suppose the question is how you knew who she was? The identities of the Maidens are kept secret."

"Yes," Cinder agreed. "Yes, they are a carefully guarded secret. You don't know who the other Maidens are, do you, either of you? And the Maidens don't know who their fellow Maidens are. The only people who know the Maidens' identities are the inner circle within the circle. Tell me, Professor, which of your most trusted counsellors did you suspect of treachery? Or did you trust them all too much and simply chalk it up to bad luck?"

"Answer the question, Cinder," Sunset growled impatiently. "How did you know?"

"Lionheart," Cinder said. "Professor Lionheart has bent the knee to Salem, as I did."

Pyrrha gasped. Sunset's eyebrows rose. That … that would explain a lot, actually; not only how Cinder had managed to get into Haven in order to infiltrate Beacon this year, but also the dearth of huntsmen protecting Mistral during the spring break. It might even explain Haven's general poor performance under his leadership.

She looked over her shoulder, at Professor Ozpin where he leaned against the wall. Outwardly, he was impassive, his expression inscrutable … but he was gripping his cane a little tighter, and the white of his knuckles betrayed him even if his blank and bland expression did not.

"That … that is … can it be true?" Pyrrha whispered. "So many have fond memories of Professor Lionheart's tutelage."

"And so many others sneer at him for his faunus race, or for his incompetence, or for the lack of silverware in Haven's trophy cabinet," Cinder replied. She paused. "Do you know that it requires the affirmative vote of all three other headmasters of the remaining academies to appoint or dismiss the headmaster of any academy? It wasn't the Mistral council who wanted Lionheart; it was his fellow headmasters who secured for him this post where he could be constantly humiliated, put down, spat on, derided; those who called themselves his friends made his life a living hell, and you find it impossible to believe that he might seek vengeance upon them for it?"

"Is that why?" Sunset asked. "Because he was tired of the racism and the criticism?"

"Or perhaps because he wanted to rule Mistral once the dust settled," Cinder said. "Or perhaps he was simply afraid for his life, terrified by the insurmountable odds against you, and Salem promised him that he would be spared the bloodbath. I don't actually know; we never discussed his motivations. I'm just saying, it wouldn't really be very surprising, would it?

"And, if you want more proof, why don't you look at how many Mistralian huntsmen and huntresses have disappeared recently?"

"'Disappeared'?" Pyrrha repeated.

"It hasn't been widely publicised, but I doubt it can be kept a complete secret," Cinder went on. "Mistralian huntsmen and huntresses have been having the bad luck to consistently run into other servants of Salem. Now, why don't you ask yourselves how that keeps happening, and who would have the information about their missions to pass onto us — and knowledge of the Fall Maiden's identity?"

Sunset said nothing. She had already mentally conceded to herself that it made sense. And, in truth, she had no reason not to believe it. Who or what was Professor Lionheart to her? A man she had met all of twice, a man who hadn't impressed her enough that she would give him the benefit of the doubt, a man who had the means to do all that Cinder accused him of doing.

"How long?" asked Pyrrha, her voice trembling a little. "How long has Professor Lionheart been in service to Salem?"

"I don't know," Cinder confessed. "Since before I came into her service, but after the Spring Maiden disappeared."

"'Disappeared'?" Sunset asked.

"Yes, it seems the Spring Maiden ran away some time ago," Cinder said. "The burden of her task got to be too much for her. She has not been seen these many years. Salem has someone looking for her, in between his other duties, and I presume that Ozpin has someone looking for her too, but Lionheart didn't know where she was or have any information on the progress of the search. But, as much as the idea of striking down Pyrrha with a sword fashioned by the gods themselves appealed to my sense of the dramatic, Salem had decreed that the Relic of Choice should be the first to fall into her hands." Cinder paused and looked at Professor Ozpin. "She wants you dead. She believes that with you dead and Beacon gone, then the world will fracture, and descend into chaos."

"That will not happen now," Pyrrha observed.

Cinder glanced at her. "You think … of course you do; you think you've won, you think that I am the only … there is a part of me that wishes it were so, although at the same time, I should admit that if it were so, I would never have … you asked why I acted the way I had, earlier. The reason why, the reason why I made such a grand entrance, the reason I made such a mad charge, the reason I was willing to risk everything is because … because I have nothing left. Salem, it seems, has grown tired of my incompetence; Lionheart is not the only one to betray your cause."

"Someone else?" Sunset asked. "Who?" Not General Ironwood, surely; that would break the hearts of Blake and Rainbow Dash.

Professor Goodwitch? But then, she's had chances to kill Amber if she wanted to; they've been left alone together.


Cinder licked her lips. "Do you know what a siren is?"

"Yes, it's a magical creature from my home," Sunset said, as much for the benefit of Pyrrha as for Cinder herself. "There were three of them; they had the power to use their voices, their song, to cause strife and discord amongst those who heard it. They would then feed on the negative emotions that they had stirred up to increase their own magical power, which they could then use to bend the wills of others."

The way that worked was, in Sunset's opinion, both ingenious in the way that it made use of a feedback loop whereby they never had to worry about a lack of negative emotion to feed on because they could create the negative emotion without expending their power to do it; for the same reason, she also felt that it was a bit of a cheat.

"They threatened to take over my homeland with that power, but they were defeated by a great wizard, who banished them to…" Sunset stopped, abruptly aware of where this was going. The anti-Atlas sentiment, the anti-faunus sentiment, the way that — for all that it could be argued there was cause for it, the Breach, the actions of the White Fang — that both had seemed to spring out of the ground one day, with no build up; the way that both Ruby and Yang had said that this didn't seem like the Vale they knew, that something strange had taken over their kingdom. All of that was signs of a siren's influence, but Sunset hadn't even considered it.

Even after meeting Eve, after having it brought home to her the way that Starswirl the Bearded had used Remnant as a dumping ground for every villain and monster that he had wanted out of Equestria, even then, she hadn't made the connection. She had just nodded along and accepted it when the others had said that it must be because of the Breach, because of the White Fang; she had just accepted their theories when she should have known better.

She should have known that there were other possibilities. More Equestrian possibilities.

Just because I'm far from home doesn't mean that I'm alone. I should have remembered that. "He sent them here, didn't he?"

Cinder nodded.

Sunset groaned and closed her eyes. "Once more, Professor, I must offer you an apology on the behalf of my people; we have used your world appallingly."

"After you exposed me, and I had to leave Beacon," Cinder went on, "Salem sent a siren here to Vale, at my request."

"They serve her?" asked Pyrrha. "Then why hasn't she used them before now?"

"They have been Salem's prisoners," Cinder corrected her. "Salem doesn't trust them not to act in their interests, not hers. That is why she only sent one siren and kept the other two as hostages for her good behaviour. Nevertheless, one siren was enough for the new plan that I devised after you scotched my old one. I take it you found the virus in the CCT?"

"Twilight did, yes," Sunset said.

"Clever, clever Twilight," Cinder murmured. "I had intended to use the virus to turn General Ironwood's androids against you, as well as to manipulate the draws for the tournament fights as part of a scheme too convoluted to get into now, but anyway, after it became clear that wasn't going to work, I decided to use the siren, Sonata, to stir up enmity and hatred amongst the people of Vale instead. At some point, probably soon, grimm cultists will launch attacks on key elements of Vale's civic infrastructure, which will be the cue and cause for the eruption of chaos in the city, rioting, and general disorder.

"Unfortunately, for both of us, Sonata has spread her influence into the Valish Defence Forces, so there will be no help there in defending the city. That's why I'm to be handed over into their custody, so that they can kill me, before … well, it's a bit late to shut me up, isn't it, but I'm sure that they still see the value in damage control by taking my life as soon as possible."

"That doesn't make any sense," Sunset said. "The siren, yes, I could believe that, but the Valish military? Killing you? You're the one with the Maiden powers, or with some of the Maiden powers; you're indispensable to their whole operation; without you, then … without you, then what's the point?"

"The point," Cinder replied, "is that the chaos in Vale, probably combined with a grimm attack — although I opposed that — will force the deployment of the students and all other available forces either to manage Vale and or repel an attack on its outskirts," Cinder said. "Which will leave Beacon empty and the Relic of Choice ripe for the taking."

"Taking by who?" Sunset demanded. "You say that you opposed a grimm attack, opposed who, is the siren making this plan?"

"Tempest Shadow and Bonnie Bonaventure, Salem's other agents in Beacon," Cinder explained.

"Tempest … you mean Trixie's teammate?" Sunset declared. "And Bon Bon? Bon Bon? Come on, Cinder, we … we've sat here, we've listened to everything that you have to say, and now … you can't just pluck names out of thin air; you might as well say that Yang is working with Salem, or Ren and Nora."

"Either of those three would be more competent than Bon Bon," Cinder said. "Nevertheless, Bon Bon is who I was stuck with, and Tempest … Tempest was more of a rival than a servant. And now, she is the rival who has displaced me. I have no doubt that she is now in overall command of the Vale operation."

"But she is not a Maiden," Pyrrha pointed out. "Even if what you say is true, though we have little reason to believe it, Bon Bon or this Tempest Shadow could not open the vault and retrieve the Relic of Choice, even if they knew where to find it."

"No," Cinder said. "But Amber could, and Amber will. She has betrayed you all."

"Oh, come on!" Sunset yelled, getting up off the table and stomping across the room, turning at the wall before finally rounding on Cinder. "You really … we have done what you asked. We have done everything that you asked, we have heard you out, and now … this!? This, seriously? Are you being serious right now?"

"I knew you wouldn't believe me," Cinder said.

"Of course we don't believe you!" Sunset cried. "This is … this is Amber, we're talking about. You're asking us to—"

"You are asking us to believe you, our enemy, who has sought our deaths, and sought Amber's death, and sought the downfall of our school and of Vale itself, against a sweet girl and a dear friend," Pyrrha said coldly. "Why should we do such a thing? Why should we indulge in such a folly? Have you any proof?"

"Tempest defended her tonight," Cinder pointed out.

"Perhaps that's because she saw a deranged woman flying down the street and thought you were up to no good!" Sunset yelled. "Not to mention the fact that for that to constitute any sort of proof, we would first have to accept that Tempest is an agent of Salem, which we do not."

"You attacked Amber," Pyrrha said. "You stole half of her magic, you rent her soul and left her for dead; why would you do that to an ally?"

"She wasn't an ally then," Cinder said. "I believe—"

"Oh, you believe," Sunset sneered dismissively.

"Yes, Sunset, I believe it so," Cinder snapped. "I believe, I am convinced, that Tempest Shadow and Bon Bon — and Sonata too — hatched a plan to cut me out of this operation. They convinced Salem to go along with it, and she, despite her oaths and promises to me, agreed, because she had grown tired of my … my failures, my disobedience, the risks I took like meeting you, Pyrrha, in single combat. They went to Amber, and she, not wanting to die, not wanting to be hunted all her life — do you really expect people to remain loyal to you when you give them nothing but the most awful lives, with no prospect that things will ever improve for them? — agreed to give up the Relic of Choice."

"That's a hunch!" Sunset said. "That's what you think, you can't know that, you can't prove any of that."

"If I did not believe it so, why would I act thus?" Cinder demanded. "Why would I tell you all, why would I make such a spectacle, why would I … why would I make so as to throw my entire life away! Why would I court death in such a way except because I have been betrayed by Salem, and I … and I have nothing now." A sigh escaped her black lips. "Nothing to fight for, nothing to live for, nothing but … why else would I do this?"

"I don't know," Sunset admitted. "I don't know, I don't … I don't understand you, Cinder! There are times when I think I do, there are times when I think that we are alike, but then there are other times when you do something or say something, and you remind me just how alien we are to one another." She shook her head, even as she put one hand to her brow. "I … I don't know. But I do know Amber—"

"And she is so very brave that she would never do this?" Cinder demanded.

"She is so very gentle," Pyrrha said. "And mild, and good of heart."

"Gentle-hearted girls get broken by the world in all its cruelty," Cinder said. "And then … something else remains, something darker." She sighed again. "I have said my piece. I have told you all. Believe me or not, as you will; do with what I have told you, as you will. Although I would rather that you believed me and acted upon what I said while there is yet time."

"Why?" Sunset asked.

"Why?" Cinder repeated. "Why, is…" — she laughed — "is it not obvious? It's because I don't want you to get hurt."
 
Chapter 59 - Keep Calm and Carry On
Keep Calm and Carry On


Lyra had been kicked out of her own room — she was so very obliging — and Dove was with Amber, obviously, and so Bon Bon was free to meet with Tempest.

Tempest was currently sitting on Dove's bed, watching Bon Bon as she paced up and down the length of the bedroom, hands clenched into fists.

Fists like the one which felt as though it had closed around her stomach, squeezing it until it was in agony. It was all that she could do to keep her back even vaguely straight. A part of her wanted to run to the bathroom; another part of her just wanted to double over in the hope that it would ease the pain.

"We are so dead," she muttered.

"Calm down," Tempest replied evenly.

"How can you tell me to calm down when we are so dead?" Bon Bon demanded. "Cinder is going to tell them everything—"

"Calm down."

"You don't seem to understand the position that we are in!" Bon Bon cried. "Cinder is going to tell them about us, and then Rainbow Dash is going to kick in that door and come in here—"

"Calm down."

"We're going to be shot. We're going to be imprisoned and then shot. Or we're going to be hanged from the highest yardarm in the Atlesian navy—"

"I told you to CALM DOWN!" Tempest bellowed, leaping off the bed and striding across the room to grab Bon Bon by the shoulders. Her grip was tight, as tight as the grip of fear on Bon Bon's stomach and just as painful, as she shook Bon Bon back and forth like a supine tree assailed by a strong wind. "You need to get a grip on yourself," she declared, punctuating the device by slapping Bon Bon across the face with the back of her hand, hard enough to make Bon Bon's head snap sideways.

"Ow!" Bon Bon cried.

"We must keep clear and cool heads!" Tempest declared, turning her back on Bon Bon. "We must keep calm and carry on. We must—"

"Keep our stiff upper lips?" Bon Bon suggested, clutching her cheek. "Do you have any idea what you sound like right now?"

"At least I don't sound like a frightened, mewling infant," Tempest snapped. She paused for a moment. "I am sorry. We don't need to fight."

"Maybe not," Bon Bon said. "But it might make us feel better before they come to break down the door."

Tempest snorted, before turning around to face Bon Bon once again. "Things are not as dire for us as your fears make out. So long as we keep our heads and don't do anything stupid, we will ride out this storm and win through, just as we planned. Yes, the situation is not what we expected, and certainly not what we wanted, but we will win everything nevertheless. This is not even a setback on our road to victory."

"How can you say that?" demanded Bon Bon. "How can you … do you really believe that? They've captured Cinder! And if she has worked out what we are up to, then what makes you think that she isn't going to tell them everything—?"

"What makes you think that anyone is going to listen to a word that Cinder has to say?" Tempest countered. "She can sing like a nightingale serenading two lovers, and they still won't want to hear it. What's she going to tell them? That Amber has betrayed them and is working with us? Who is Ozpin going to trust: his own Fall Maiden, or his enemy who has been nothing but a thorn in his side for a year? Who are Sunset Shimmer and Rainbow Dash and Blake and all the rest going to believe, their friend or their foe? Even if Cinder has worked out everything — and, I admit, she might have — she still has no proof. There is no proof; it's not like we wrote anything down. All Cinder can do is ask her enemies to take her word for it, and how likely is that?"

Admittedly, Tempest made a good point. A very good point, in fact. Cinder might say a great deal, but she was not the most trustworthy of people, even to her supposed allies. Bon Bon could only imagine how much less trustworthy she seemed to her enemies.

Although I'm one of her enemies now, I guess.

Nevertheless, one thought nagged at her. "I'm not so sure about Sunset. They were close, when Cinder was at Beacon."

"Hmm," Tempest murmured. "And they did ally together against Doctor Merlot."

"They what?"

"Right, of course, you didn't know anything about that, did you?"

"No, I didn't, and what do you mean they allied together—?"

"Relax," Tempest insisted. "It was just a temporary arrangement."

"One which might have built trust between them," Bon Bon pointed out. "How long did this alliance last?"

"Only a few days," Tempest assured her, although Bon Bon didn't find that length terribly reassuring. A lot could happen in just a few days.

"It would be ideal if Cinder didn't get the chance to open her mouth," Tempest admitted, "which is why I have, on behalf of Sonata, asked General Blackthorn to take her into military custody, where Ozpin and Sunset and all the rest won't be able to listen to a thing she says. However, even if that doesn't work and they hear her out first, have you seen the way that they flock around Amber? The way that they fawn all over her? They're not just bodyguards; they're her friends." She loaded the word with a double barrel-load of contempt. "They might have seen a less adversarial side of Cinder not too long ago, but if she accuses Amber, sweet Amber, precious Amber, dear Amber—"

"Stop that!" Bon Bon said sharply.

Tempest frowned. "Stop what?"

"All that … that sneering," Bon Bon said, waving one hand in front of her face. "Amber is sweet, and she is precious, and she is dear. And if you're right at all, if you have any chance at being right, the only … maybe not the only but the biggest reason why I think you're right about all this is because Amber is loveable. Even I … I don't think that she cares for me very much." Bon Bon's shoulders slumped. "I guess I can't blame her for that, knowing who I work for, but … nevertheless, she doesn't have to like me for me to find her … when I see them together, her and Dove, it … I want to protect that. I want to see that flower blossom freely into something even more beautiful. Everyone does. It's not charisma, exactly, it's not like Blake has or Sunset has, people don't want to follow her, but they do want to keep her safe, not just because they're being asked to, or because of what she is, but because of who she is."

"She inspires the protective instinct, you mean?"

"You make it sound so … cold and unloving," Bon Bon murmured.

"And you make it sound like a mass of verbiage," Tempest replied. "But I will take your point; a lot of people care for her, including you. But your point bolsters mine; they won't believe that she means ill, that she has turned on those who only wish to protect her."

"I think Amber would deny it too," Bon Bon replied. "She's trying to protect them."

"Does she really believe that?" Tempest asked. "Or is that just what she tells herself to sleep at night?"

"I'm not sure how well she sleeps at night," Bon Bon murmured. "But she believes it. I think that she believes it." Her eyes narrowed. "She believes it in part because she's been promised that Team Sapphire will be allowed to live—"

"So long as they don't interfere in our plans, future or present," Tempest said. "An easy promise to make, but one which will be kept, nonetheless." She paused. "What will you do, when this is over?"

"What?" Bon Bon asked, thrown by the change in subject so sudden that it made her head spin. "What kind of a question is that?"

"A calming one," Tempest murmured. "A focussing one. Focus on what you want, focus on what you're aiming for. Cinder's capture is a complication, yes, but one that we can manage. We just need to keep our eye on the prize: the Relic, triumph here at Beacon, all of it within our grasp. We stand on the verge of a golden world. I'm just wondering what that looks like for you."

Bon Bon didn't answer right away. She couldn't have answered immediately even if she'd wanted to. She was … unsure. She didn't know exactly what she wanted anymore. When she had started, when Doctor Watts had flattered her and ensnared her, then there had been something she wanted, there must have been.

"I wanted to be you."

Yes. Yes, that had been it, hadn't it? She had wanted to be Rainbow Dash, or at least, she had wanted to be like Rainbow Dash: someone respected, someone popular, someone powerful.

Stupid, childish, pointless.

But now? Now what? What did she want? What would she do, when all of this was over? What would she get out of this golden world that Tempest told her they were on the verge of? When they won, when they got the Relic of Choice, what then?

Then … then Amber would be safe, and Dove too, but Amber wasn't likely to want her around, unless Bon Bon had completely misread the looks that Amber was sending her way. She wouldn't be welcome in their new life, and that was fair enough, honestly. Bon Bon was part of the thing that Amber feared, the thing that she was trying to get away from.

Plus, three was a crowd and all that.

They'll join their hands in wedding bands, and married, they shall be, Bon Bon thought, as some words from one of Lyra's old country ballads came to her mind. And they won't want someone like me hanging around for that.

But maybe … maybe I could find a kind of happiness of my own. Maybe with Lyra, if she'll come with me. We could do what Amber and Dove will do, just walk off the board. Go somewhere, anywhere, where we don't have to be a part of all this.

Find a small village somewhere and wait for … for whatever happens at the end of all this. And just live until then.

Just live.


"I think … I think that I might try and see what it's like to live a peaceful life," Bon Bon said. "I'm not sure exactly where yet, but not in Vale. Well, not in the city, anyway. Maybe out in the countryside somewhere, north or south of here, or maybe in Anima, some out of the way place where nobody goes. I'll try my hand at farming or fishing or foraging, or I could use my aura-given strength and become a woodcutter, felling trees with my hands and carrying the logs back home. But something peaceful, somewhere out of the way. Somewhere I'll bother no one, and no one will bother me."

She did not mention Lyra to Tempest; she didn't want to give away that much of herself to the other girl.

Tempest's eyebrows rose. "That's it? After all this, after retrieving one of the four Relics, artefacts handed down by the gods themselves, you're just going to walk away from it all and live in the woods, tearing down trees?"

"I'm going to live a life where I don't have to look over my shoulder, or remember who I lied to, or what I said," Bon Bon replied. "I know that I haven't given much service, but even that little — and you wouldn't have gotten close to Amber without my help — is enough to earn me the right to be left alone, isn't it?"

"Everyone has the right to be left alone," Tempest agreed. "Their rights stop when they decide to deliberately put themselves in harm's way, in the path of misfortune. Go, if you want to, though you will miss the rewards to come."

"'To come'?" Bon Bon asked.

"There will be other battles, other wars, other kingdoms and academies to bring down," Tempest said. "Other relics to retrieve."

"And you will be there for them," Bon Bon murmured.

"I will be there for all of them," Tempest declared, spreading her arms out wide and pirouetting on her toe. "I will lead the assaults on Atlas and Haven, I will bring down Shade—"

"Beacon isn't enough for you?" Bon Bon asked.

"Beacon doesn't give me what I want," Tempest replied.

"And what's that? Power?"

"In a sense," Tempest said. "I want…" She paused for a moment, her head dropping forwards a fraction. "I want to stand above Atlas, and look down as everyone who ever spurned me for my arm, everyone who ever looked at me funny, everyone who judged me, everyone who made fun of me, everyone who ever made an inappropriate remark, I want to look down upon them all as they reach out for me and beg for me to save them. And then I'll turn away, the way that Atlas turned away from me."

Bon Bon shivered. "Seriously?"

"They have it coming," Tempest told her. "So much of the world has it coming. Think about it: this whole world, so proud and so mighty, so full of itself and its accomplishments, brought to its knees by a band of outcasts. Doesn't that sound like something? Doesn't that sound like something amazing? Of course, that was Cinder's dream as well, only she was too easily distracted, too willing to let her delusions lead her off course, too prone to chasing dreams of glory instead of the realities of victory and revenge. Well, I'm smarter than she is, I'm more focussed than she is, and I'm twice the outcast and more than she is, so I won't lose my way. I will be the nemesis that this world deserves, and all these would-be heroes will watch the monuments to wickedness they sought to defend crumble before their eyes."

"Assuming that you're not arrested in the next few minutes," Bon Bon pointed out. "You're almost certainly right about Amber, but what about us? Will they really be so quick to dismiss what Cinder tells them about us?"

"Why should they suspect us?" Tempest asked. "We've done nothing suspicious. I tried to protect Amber from the rampage of the dangerous Cinder Fall."

"You're being very blasé about this," Bon Bon said. "You can't really be so certain that they won't act; you can't know that there is nothing that Cinder might say that will strike a chord with them."

"No," Tempest acknowledged. "I don't know that; I can't know that. That's why I have a plan."

"'A plan'?" Bon Bon repeated. "If you had a plan all along, then why didn't you say so before you…? I was really worried here!"

"Worried over mostly nothing," Tempest said.

"'Worried over' … never mind," Bon Bon muttered. "What is this plan of yours? What are you going to do? Are we going to step up the plan and go tonight?"

"No," Tempest said. "That's not possible, not on this short notice."

"Then what?"

"I'm going to divide our enemies and turn them against one another," Tempest said. "So that they'll have no time, no energy, and no inclination to look for any more enemies without."

Bon Bon frowned. "You're talking about Vale and Atlas? Or Mistral?"

"I'm talking about Sunset Shimmer," Tempest said. "And what a bad girl she was under Mountain Glenn. You know that it's her fault that Sky died?"

Bon Bon blinked, the furrow of her brow grew deeper, as though it had been ploughed anew. "What do you mean? Cinder—"

"It wasn't Cinder who blew up the mine and caused the Breach," Tempest said. "It was Sunset."

"'Sunset'?" Bon Bon repeated. "How, why?"

"Because Cinder had left her a detonator to do it with," Tempest said. "That's the how. The why is that her team was trapped down in a tunnel with a horde of grimm on their heels, and she didn't want them to die. So your teammate died instead, and five others besides. Not to mention a hole blown in the centre of Vale, a great amount of property damage, fear, panic, political upheaval … all in all, that seems like something people would want to know about, doesn't it? It seems like something that her upright teammates, not to mention Professor Ozpin, might want to know about as well."

"They don't know?" Bon Bon asked.

"I don't think they do," Tempest said. "I haven't read their minds, but I don't think they'd be so nice and friendly with her if they did, do you?"

"No," Bon Bon murmured. "No, they wouldn't."

Forget knocking her tooth out, I should have strangled the life out of her for what she did.

But then, who would punish me for what I did?


No. No, as much as she grieved for Sky, Bon Bon was not so lacking in self-awareness that she could fill herself up with a righteous anger at Sunset Shimmer for what she'd done. Sunset might have set off the mine, but it was Bon Bon who had led her team down into the maelstrom. It was Bon Bon who had colluded with the person who had, regardless of who pressed the detonator switch, stolen all the dust used to make the mine and stored it under Vale ready to blow.

No, Bon Bon didn't have the right to blame Sunset for this.

But other people? Yes, there were other people who had the right to blame Sunset, absolutely.

"But how are you going to do it?" she asked. "I mean … you don't have any proof, do you? And in order to expose her, you'd risk yourself being exposed when the accusation was traced back? All Sunset has to do is deny it—"

"Which she will, I'm sure," Tempest said. "But there will be some who don't believe her denial, some who think that she's guilty, maybe even some in her own team. And as a result, she will be under a cloud of suspicion, and suspicion, recrimination, accusations flying of who knew what, who was involved, and why they covered it up."

"But how?" Bon Bon demanded. "How are you going to do it while keeping your name out of it?"

Tempest smirked. "Did you know that nothing is ever really gone from the CCT network? Even the emails that you deleted because you decided not to send them. They don't disappear, they just … sink to the bottom and get lost amongst the sediment. Unless you're a bottom feeder who makes a habit out of looking for that sort of thing. I thought that it might be useful to have something in my back pocket, so I had some of Sonata's new friends in the military go scouring the depths for anything useful, and lo and behold, they found treasure there amidst the waste. Treasure that, while it might not destroy Sunset Shimmer, will certainly make her life very difficult for a while."

"Sounds like you've got it all figured out," Bon Bon said. "Except for one thing."

"One thing?" Tempest repeated. "What one thing, what don't I have figured out?"

"Amber," Bon Bon said. "With Cinder in custody, and after the way that Sunset and Pyrrha and the others rescued her … are we sure that she's still with us? Are we really and truly certain that she isn't having second thoughts?"

XxXxX​

"Have I made a terrible mistake?" asked Amber.

She was in the bathroom, in Team RSPT's bathroom, with Dove.

She didn't care what they thought she and Dove were doing in here together; what mattered was that there was a door between her and Dove on one side and Rainbow Dash, Ciel, Blake, and Twilight on the other side. A door that was shut.

For good measure, she had the shower on, so that the sound of the water would drown out the sound of their voices to anyone listening from outside.

Plus, she liked the way it felt.

Amber was sitting in the shower itself, letting the cold water cascade through her hair, letting it fall through her bangs to drip down onto her face, letting it wash off the makeup that Ciel had so carefully and expertly helped her with, letting it trickle down her scars, like rivers following the ruts carved into the earth.

It was getting into her clothes as well, for which Amber felt a little guilty because they weren't really her clothes; she'd borrowed another of Pyrrha's dresses, the black and green one with the fetching cape — although she hadn't borrowed Pyrrha's bracelets, but still wore her own — and now, the water was soaking through the bodice and the skirt, maybe ruining it for good.

But she hadn't had time to change, and she did like the feeling of the water on her face, her skin, even the way it made the fabric of her bodice feel as it stuck to her.

Dove was in the shower with her; he had worn a suit to the carnival, a turquoise suit like the head of a rock dove, with a light maroon waistcoat and a white shirt with a black bow tie. He had taken the jacket off and draped it around Amber as a sort of extra cape above the green cape she wore, and the water had soaked his white shirt so that it was beginning to turn see-through and expose his chest where the waistcoat wasn't hiding it.

The water was falling down his hair too, matting it to his forehead as it ran in rivulets in front of his eyes.

She didn't think it was the running water that was giving his face that tight, sort of almost cringing expression.

"I think…" He began, before trailing off. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes," Amber said. "Yes, it does; of course, it does; it matters so much. I love you, Dove, and I … I want to hear what you think. I don't … I'm sorry if you think that I've taken you for granted, I just … please, tell me."

"I never felt that," Dove assured her, as he put one hand around her shoulders. "It's just that this is your magic, your enemies after you—"

"Ozpin's enemies," Amber interrupted. "Not mine. I never wanted any part of this."

Dove nodded. "But, if you want to know what I think … I think you've made a mistake."

Amber nodded. Things … things no longer seemed as certain to her as they had done just a little while ago.

Amber laughed, a little giggle slipping out of her at how absurd it was. "It's funny, isn't it?" she said. "It's funny that … Cinder's gone now. Well, she's not gone, but she will be soon, and … and even now, she can't hurt me anymore, but … I don't feel any less worried; I don't feel safer."

"Because of what you did?" Dove murmured softly and without reproach. "Or because there are more like Cinder out there waiting?"

"Both," Amber murmured, her words barely rising above the pitter-patter of the cold shower water that rained down upon them.

In truth, she didn't really know what she was thinking right now. Perhaps in the past, she had thought too little, but now, it felt as if she thought too much, thoughts whirling around her head, round and round.

When she had fought Cinder, when Cinder and her henchmen had attacked her, and Amber had been left with no choice but to defend herself, she had conjured up a mighty wind, a tornado turning furiously around her, and in those winds, she had swept up all the leaves that lay roundabout and coated them with ice until they were as sharp as daggers. Just so, now, did it feel as though a mighty wind blew about her head and swept up all her thoughts and made them painfully sharp.

They did not just prick her conscience; some of them felt like they were stabbing it.

She had trusted Salem's people. She had trusted that they could keep her safe, and they had … well, the most charitable thing that could be said is that they had tried. The image of Tempest Shadow being swatted aside by Cinder with contemptuous ease was seared into her mind. Had it been Tempest alone on whom she was reliant for her protection, then Amber would be dead. She had trusted them; she had accepted their offer, for all that they asked of her, because she had thought — she had believed — that they could protect her from Cinder.

More fool her, it seemed.

But if the image of Tempest's swift defeat reminded Amber of her foolishness, another image reminded her that … that she was wicked, or that others might call her so.

She was … wicked, or something like it, or thoughtless, or unkind, or all of them, maybe. She was something, and the proof was in the other memory, of the way that everyone had been before Cinder had reached them: Sunset, Pyrrha, Ruby, Jaune, Penny, all of them ready to fight, to fight Cinder with her magic, to fight in Amber's defence.

It was one thing to have Pyrrha vow to her that she would rather die than let Amber come to harm; it was another to see it happen with her own eyes, in spite of all of Amber's entreaties to them.

She had not asked them to fight, to risk death for her, but they had done it anyway.

And they had won, which felt beside the point and yet at the same time very, very much the point.

Amber didn't want them to die. She didn't want them to suffer pain or heartbreak; she didn't want Jaune to be without Pyrrha, or Pyrrha without Jaune, or any of them to be alone, bereft.

But they had won the fight. They had captured Cinder — though Amber had rather they had killed her and been done with it.

They had won. Those that Amber had trusted to protect her had proven themselves feeble; those she had sought to protect had proven themselves to be strong indeed.

It was backwards.

Amber, it seemed, had had it backwards.

And yet…

Salem.

Salem the immortal, Salem the inexorable, Salem the undefeatable, Salem who was the reason, even more than Cinder, why Amber had done as she had done.

Salem was still out there, and would not be proven as feeble as some of her servants had been.

Salem would never stop coveting the Fall Maiden's power, hunting the Fall Maiden, not until she had what she wanted: the Crown of Choice.

All these thoughts besieged her, turned her first one way and then the other, the valour of Team SAPR warring with the danger of Salem which fought in turn against the wretchedness of Tempest Shadow.

"I don't know what to do," Amber said. "I don't know what to think, what to feel, I … maybe I should have been braver, like Sunset and Pyrrha; maybe I should have had more faith in them and told them about Bon Bon when she told me what she was. But even if that's true, isn't it too late now? If I tell them what I've done, then—"

"Then they will forgive you," Dove declared.

Amber laughed softly, a mocking laugh, although she hoped it did not sound cruel in mockery, for cruelty was not her intent. "Just like that? So easily? No, no, that isn't possible, not after what I was ready to do."

"It is," Dove insisted. "For them. They are … they're good people, you know that; you know that as well as anyone."

"'Good' doesn't mean—"

"It does for them," Dove said. "You know that too. Look at the way that they've taken you into their hearts, welcomed you, welcomed us. Sunset didn't have to bring us back together, but she did, out of the goodness of her heart. And they all have good hearts. They have … some of the best hearts of any people I've ever met."

Amber nodded, or at least got halfway to nodding before she felt compelled to add, "You said the same about Bon Bon."

Dove frowned. "I know," he admitted. "And I was wrong about her. But I'm not wrong about the others, about Team Sapphire. I … I'm not wrong about them. If you go to them, now, or as soon as they get back, or just quickly … or not even quickly, maybe, whenever you do it, if you go to them and confess and say you're sorry … they'll forgive you."

That … that was a wonderful thought. It was a wonderful, beautiful thought. The idea of laying it all before them, like a gift, almost, except a very unwelcome, almost poisoned gift, but nevertheless … the idea of laying it before them and having it accepted. The idea of this burden being lifted off her shoulders, being free of it…

That was what it was all about, wasn't it? Being free of burdens? She'd wanted to be free of being the Fall Maiden, and now, she wouldn't mind being free of what she'd done to be free of being the Fall Maiden.

"Don't worry about it," said the Sunset in Amber's head. "We've all made mistakes. We just have to learn from them and move on."

"We understand that you're afraid," said Pyrrha, "and fear can drive us to do things that our best selves would not. But it does not make you any less of a good person or our friend."

"You just wanted to take care of the people you love, right?" asked Jaune.

"So long as you're sorry, that's all that matters," said Ruby.


Ozpin … somehow, Amber couldn't imagine Ozpin being quite so forgiving.

But there was such hope in Dove's eyes, such enthusiasm, it was making him smile, making his face light up. The look of it, so much more pleasant, so much lovelier than his wincing look of earlier, made Amber smile a little too.

"You never liked this, did you?" Amber asked him. "You never liked … what I was going to do?"

"No," Dove admitted. "I understand why you did it, but … if we could find a way back, if we could go back to the light, then I … I would feel a lot better."

Amber leaned against him, throwing her arms around him. "Don't forsake me, Dove," she whispered, as the cold water fell upon them. "Please."

"Never," Dove whispered in return, kissing her on top of the head as he put one arm around you. "I swore that I wouldn't leave you, and I don't mean to break my word. I lost you once, I won't do it again, I'm by your side, but—"

"But you wish that my side would be the right side," Amber murmured. "The side of Sunset and Pyrrha and the others, the side of Ozpin—"

"The huntsman side, yes," Dove said. "Perhaps I should have said something before, but I wasn't sure…"

"I'm sorry," Amber said. "I will always listen to you."

"Listen to your own heart," Dove urged. "You know that … they'll forgive you. They'll all forgive you everything, so long as you come clean, but if you wait, and if you go through with this plan, however good your intentions are, they won't forgive that; you know it."

Amber frowned. That wasn't something she really wanted to think about.

Because he was right, and she knew that too.

"And you know," Dove said, "after tonight, I really believe that they can protect you better than any promise from Bon Bon or Tempest or whoever it is they work for."

Amber didn't reply. On that … she both agreed and did not agree. Dove might be right, probably was, in the small scale, but on the grand scale? On the grand scale, nothing had changed.

"Whatever you decide, I'm with you," Dove said. "But I won't pretend to be neutral when it comes to the choice you make."

"I … I don't know," Amber said. "I really don't know."

Who can protect me? Who can I trust?

I want to be safe and free.

But who can give it to me?

Can Team SAPR win all the battles? Can they fight every enemy?

If I give the crown to Salem, then it is done, and so am I. But… what if it isn't?

What do I do?

What should I do?


"I don't know," Amber said again. "But I'll think about it, Dove, I promise I will. I'll think about it, and … and I'll decide. Tonight, I'll decide … if I dare tell them everything that I was going to do."
 
Chapter 60 - Protest Too Much
Protest Too Much


With Professor Ozpin gone to question Cinder, and Sunset and Pyrrha gone to manhandle Cinder down to where she could be interrogated, everyone else was left waiting.

Ruby got the impression that there was no one it wasn't a little bit awkward for.

Certainly, it felt awkward for her, and from the looks on Jaune's and Penny's faces, it was a little bit awkward for them too.

It wasn't the adults' faults that they were here, Ruby understood that they'd wanted to see for themselves that Cinder really had been taken into custody — although she was less sure why they all wanted to stick around here now — but it was making things kind of awkward. It was hard to talk to Jaune and Penny with Professor Goodwitch, General Ironwood, or the First Councillor of Vale all standing so close by, casting their shadows over them.

As it was, Ruby found her thoughts turning inwards. Professor Ozpin hadn't said so — yet — but she was starting to doubt that Amber would be coming with her and Yang to Patch. Professor Ozpin had decided to send her there because Cinder was on the prowl, and, well, she wasn't on the prowl anymore, was she?

Just as she wasn't looking so smug and superior anymore, with that stupid smile on her face like she knew some big secret.

But more importantly than Ruby's own sense of smugness at the downfall of someone who would have irritated her even if she hadn't been evil was the fact that Professor Ozpin's emergency plan to safeguard Amber was no longer necessary.

That was a bit of a pity for Ruby, since it would have been cool having a house guest, someone to show around Patch, someone who would have enjoyed the woods and the wilds and the view from the cliffs, but at the same time, it was pretty good, really good, for Amber, and that was what really mattered.

Amber could … she couldn't quite do what she liked. Pyrrha thought that Amber would be able to visit Mistral or Atlas, and maybe she would, but privately, Ruby had some doubts. She was still the Fall Maiden, after all, and if Cinder had known who she was, then there was nothing stopping Salem from sending others after her.

If she had any others to send. She might not, Pyrrha seemed to think that she didn't, Sunset seemed willing to accept that she didn't, and even Professor Ozpin seemed to agree that it would take Salem a while to move on from this, to find someone else to smirk like they knew things you didn't and talk like they were smarter than you and go around like they were so high and mighty when really…

Anyway, the point was … maybe they were right. Maybe Salem didn't have any substitutes lined up. Or maybe it would be Emerald trying to end the world next week, and Pyrrha and Sunset and even Professor Ozpin were all just engaged in wishful thinking because they wanted it to be done, or if not done, then at least put on hold for a little while. They wanted to believe that they had put a period on something.

Ruby wanted to believe that too; it would have been great to be able to believe it.

She just couldn't be certain.

It did make sense, she supposed. If you were never going to die, then you had all the time in the world to think things through, and if they still didn't work out, then there was nothing to stop you from taking a little time to work out what went wrong and what could you do better next time.

Maybe choose a right-hand woman who isn't so full of herself next time.

But, if the Maidens were usually kept secret, their identities hidden, then it would also make sense to strike while you knew who the Fall Maiden was in the hope that you could get the powers before Amber died and there was a new Fall Maiden whose name you didn't know.

All of that being said, Pyrrha had been prepared to take Amber to Mistral even before they caught Cinder, so … perhaps that wouldn't bother her even if Ruby brought it up.

She just didn't want Amber to have to hide and get shut away for her own safety.

Ruby could get that. It didn't sound like much of a life, and she knew better than some that restrictions weren't made easier to bear by being placed on you by someone who meant well and thought they were doing the right thing.

But the risk…

Ruby didn't know. They had won tonight, after all. Pyrrha was absolutely right: they had won, no buts, no drawbacks, no qualifications; they had won.

However long or short it lasted, this triumph could not be taken away from them.

She just wasn't sure how long it would last.

And she really wished that she could have talked to the others instead of being stuck in her own head like this.

Ruby supposed, while she was stuck with her thoughts like this, that the important thing was … was what was important. Important to you, or important to everyone, just generally.

Like, Pyrrha had decided that she was going to take Amber to Mistral, even before they'd gotten Cinder, way before, because Amber wanted to go, and Pyrrha had decided that Amber's happiness was more important to her than Professor Ozpin's desire to keep everything hush hush.

And Ruby … Ruby could appreciate a blow struck for freedom of the individual, and as she had said to Sunset at the time, if you were going to have a principle like that, then you couldn't quibble when it came to following through.

So let Amber visit Mistral. They'd all go — go back, in the case of Jaune, Sunset, and Ruby herself — to Mistral.

But they owed it to Amber as well as to themselves to be prepared for the possibility of trouble once they got there.

But what about it? They'd just proven, with extra emphasis and the seal of undeniable success, that they were prepared to deal with trouble. And you couldn't stuff people away in the dark just because it was more convenient for you.

You could do almost anything you wanted, provided you were prepared to face the consequences, and provided you didn't hurt anyone else in the process.

So if Amber wanted to see the world, they would show her the world and guard her while she saw it. And then…

Then Amber would have to go back into the dark because Team SAPR couldn't protect her forever.

They'd have next year's classes, for one thing.

Not to mention, as much as Ruby liked Amber, she didn't want to devote her whole life to the Fall Maiden's protection.

Not to mention, how likely was it that Amber was going to want them around for the rest of her life? Eventually, she and Dove would want some alone time.

And then she would want as many aunts and uncles around as she could get, the way Uncle Qrow was always coming over when Ruby and Yang were little.

Well, not exactly like that, because Amber wouldn't be gone, and neither would Dove, and there wouldn't be another woman … or another man. But the point was, she'd probably want some help once they got to that point.

Ruby's memories of those days were a little fuzzy, but the implication that she and Yang had been a bit of a handful had been more than confirmed by Uncle Qrow's stories from that time.

Did that all make sense? Ruby hoped that it made sense, but it might not. It felt … it felt like it was three in the morning, and she was awake with only thoughts that might or might not be sensible for company.

Except she didn't feel dehydrated.

General Ironwood broke the silence, for which Ruby was very thankful. He clasped his hands together behind his back as he said, "Mister Councillor, General Blackthorn, since we're all here, I wonder if I might have a word with you regarding the gathering grimm concentrations—"

"'Grimm concentrations'?" Ruby asked, her ears pricking up — not literally, although Ruby sometimes thought it might be pretty cool to have ears that pricked up like Sunset or Blake — at the mention of such a thing. "Where?"

General Blackthorn said, "Nothing that a child—"

"The grimm are massing beyond Vale," General Ironwood interrupted. "Aerial reconnaissance shows that their numbers are growing; at present, they are holding their positions, but more grimm have been mustering all day, and the day before when we really began to notice it. Even if Miss Rose were a child, a child would know that such things can't be ignored."

"Where are they coming from?" asked Jaune. "I mean, after the Breach, I thought that most of the grimm … I thought they were weakened?"

"Not all of the grimm in the southeast took part in the Breach," Professor Goodwitch reminded them. "As I believe you found on your second trip to Mountain Glenn recently. In particular, I believe — and no doubt Doctor Oobleck would agree with me, if he were here — that the older grimm, wiser and more experienced, would have been reluctant to take part in a direct assault against one of the kingdoms thus. Grimm who survive that long tend to know better than to hurl themselves against mankind's defences."

Jaune frowned. "I know that Mountain Glenn wasn't empty when we were there, but it was a lot emptier than it had been, and a lot of grimm did go down the tunnel after us. And besides, if what you're saying is right, wouldn't the old grimm who don't want to risk a direct assault hang back from this as well?"

"One can hope," Professor Goodwitch said. "Grimm are still, however old and experienced they become, creatures of instinct, and sometimes, those instincts cannot be resisted. Sometimes, forces stronger than the caution of age compel them to act." She paused. "But I don't know what General Ironwood's pilots have been telling him. Reports of the gathering grimm have been so scarce and well-concealed that my information is very limited."

"There are grimm coming up from the southeast," General Ironwood confirmed, "but in limited numbers, confirming your belief that the majority of grimm in that region were either wiped out in the Breach, or else, as Professor Goodwitch says, they're too canny to run straight towards our guns. From what we've observed, the southeastern concentration is the weakest of the grimm forces—"

"'Forces'?" Penny repeated. "You mean it's not just one group?"

General Ironwood shook his head. "At first, there were several smaller groups, seven in total. Some of those groups have now merged, but we can still observe four groups: three around Vale, one that came up from the southeast, one due directly east between Vale and the mountains, and one to the northeast; there is also a fourth group coming down directly from the north, but whether it will turn aside to join the northeastern group or remain independent, I can't say."

"You talk about them as though they were an army," Colonel Sky Beak observed. "As though they have a commander pondering whether to have four slightly weaker assault columns or to use their reserve to reinforce the three units they already have in position."

"I'm not sure about that," General Ironwood said, "but in some ways, they are an army, and although they may not have a general and his officers pondering that choice, in some way, that choice will be made, and there will be reasons why it was made. They may not look like us, they may be more instinctive than we are, but in many ways, they are an army, an army equally capable of wielding the subtle knife or the blunt hammer, depending on the circumstances."

An army under the control of Salem? Ruby wondered. How much control over the grimm does she really have? Is she the one who will make the choice about the northern grimm?

Is this because she's angry that we captured Cinder?

No, no way, the grimm have been gathering before that, General Ironwood just said so.

Then … was Cinder supposed to do something, with the grimm, and maybe now that we've captured her, the plan has been spoiled?

So what will the grimm do now?

Unfortunately, it looks like Salem isn't ready to step back and lick her wounds just yet.


"But where are so many grimm coming from?" asked Penny.

"It appears, although we need more confirmation and observation to be certain, that they are pulling out from the villages that they've been passively threatening for some time, and moving to Vale instead," General Ironwood said. "At least three huntsmen providing security for rural settlements have reported that the grimm are gone; I'm sure if we asked, we'd get more such reports."

"So they're leaving the countryside and heading here instead?" Jaune asked. "What are they going to do, are they going to attack again?"

"It doesn't matter what they're going to do," Ruby declared. "What matters is what we're going to do about them." Her silver eyes flickered between General Ironwood and Professor Goodwitch. "What are we going to do?"

"I was just about to ask the First Councillor if he would reconsider granting permission to commence an aerial bombardment of the grimm," General Ironwood said. "I know that you're worried about causing panic, but even leaving aside the fact that engagement with distant grimm will be far less panicking than another attack on Vale, the boost to public morale provided by the news of Cinder Fall's capture will surely outweigh any negativity caused by the sounds of my bombs dropping."

"Are you sure that you don't just want to drop bombs before you go home so that you can say that you accomplished something, General Ironwood?" asked General Blackthorn.

"My forces already accomplished something when they saved Vale during the Breach," General Ironwood replied blandly, "although I would like to make sure that Vale was still safe before my fleet returns to Atlas."

"Vale is safe," General Blackthorn insisted. "Are the grimm moving towards Vale?"

"They have moved towards Vale," General Ironwood pointed out. "Otherwise, they wouldn't be here."

"But they're not getting any closer now, are they?" demanded General Blackthorn.

"No," General Ironwood admitted. "They're holding their positions as they are continually reinforced, which Colonel Sky Beak may recognise as the tactics of an army maximising its advantages before—"

"As you said yourself, General Ironwood, they are not moving!" General Blackthorn snapped.

"So do you think they're just going to sit there forever?" Ruby demanded. "Or decide to turn around and go home? Why would so many grimm come together around Vale like that except because they were going to attack? And even if they don't attack, with so many grimm around the city, how is anyone or anything going to reach Vale by land? No one will dare risk it. They'll cut the roads, and maybe even the railway line. And that will cause panic, and that will draw even more grimm." She ignored General Blackthorn, who seemed like a complete idiot, and focussed her attention on Councillor Emerald. She took a step forward. "I understand that you're worried that the sounds of a battle might scare people, but it's like General Ironwood said: some things are scarier than the sounds of a battle, and those scary things will come to Vale unless something is done now. It may not seem like it, but now is the time to defend Vale, not when the grimm decide that they're ready."

General Blackthorn scowled, but didn't say anything.

Councillor Emerald, meanwhile, adjusted the fit of his dark green jacket, although it had looked fine before, so Ruby thought that maybe he just wanted something to do with his hands for a second.

"No doubt General Blackthorn will rebuke me for allowing a girl of your years to sway my opinions, Miss Rose," he murmured, a touch of amusement creeping into his voice like one of the grimm creeping towards Vale, "but I think there is some force in what you say. Of course, I'm not an expert on the behaviour of the creatures of grimm." He looked over Ruby's head towards Professor Goodwitch. "Professor, as a more experienced huntress than Miss Rose, perhaps you have some insights to share on what we might expect from these monsters?"

Professor Goodwitch was silent for a moment. "With no disrespect intended to Miss Rose, I have known grimm to approach a settlement without attacking; they changed course before coming into contact with the defences. I think they wanted to make us sweat a little, but at the same time knew that they were not strong enough to overrun the settlement itself. However, I have never seen such behaviour with a horde, only with more modest groups of grimm." She looked at General Ironwood. "Are we talking about a horde, general?"

"It's looking that way," General Ironwood replied. "I'd put it at Class … Three, maybe Four. By tomorrow morning, it might be a Five; their numbers are rising all the time."

"In that case, I would be very surprised if they moved off," Professor Goodwitch said. "Where would they go? If they meant to go anywhere but Vale, they would hardly have come to Vale, and with grimm coming in from all directions, it would be strange if any of them turned back the way they had come."

"I see," Councillor Emerald murmured. "So … what would you advise that I do about this situation?"

Professor Goodwitch cleared her throat. "Professor Ozpin is the headmaster of Beacon, and sits on the Council; he should advise you, Mister Councillor."

"Perhaps, but since he isn't here at the moment, perhaps you wouldn't mind giving me the benefit of your thoughts," Councillor Emerald pressed.

Professor Goodwitch said, "Attacking the grimm risks provoking them to attack in return — you cannot simply expect them to hold still under bombardment — but that, in itself, might prove to be a blessing, if they attack before they have gathered their full strength."

Councillor Emerald nodded. "So you think that I should allow General Ironwood to attack?"

Professor Goodwitch paused a moment before she said, "Yes, Mister Councillor, I think that might be for the best."

"I see," Councillor Emerald murmured. "Thank you for your advice, Professor, but I have other ideas."

"But—" Ruby began.

"What I propose," Councillor Emerald went on, "is that if these grimm are moving away from the outlying settlements to come here, then we must in turn recall all the huntsmen who went out to those settlements to protect them in the first place. We will stuff their mouths with lien to bring them here, if need be, and carpet the job board so thick with 'come to Vale' postings that no other work will get a look in. And then, once the Vytal Festival is over, and the Atlesians and all our other guests have departed for home, then we will unleash our Valish strength upon the grimm. The huntsmen that we have hired in bulk will spearhead the attack, with the Valish Defence Forces and our new warships for which we have paid so handsomely in support. General Blackthorn, please begin drawing up plans of attack immediately."

General Blackthorn drew in a sharp intake of breath. "Yes, Mister Councillor, as soon as Cinder Fall has been safely taken into custody."

"And now, Miss Rose," Councillor Emerald said, smiling down at her, "I believe you were about to be outraged."

Ruby laughed nervously. "Well … I guess it doesn't matter now," she admitted. Truthfully, she felt like this whole 'Valish, not Atlesian' thing was kind of stupid — they were all people, and they were all fighting together against the grimm, after all — but, apart from that … it wasn't a bad plan. Yeah, it meant waiting for all the huntsmen to show up, which might take a few days, but having them around would be great, and they'd be way better at fighting the grimm than General Ironwood's soldiers, so, yeah, why not? It all sounded like a pretty good idea to her. "I know it doesn't matter, but … thank you for doing the right thing."

"It is what politicians strive to do, as much as it might seem otherwise," Councillor Emerald replied.

"And we can help too," Ruby added. "My team and I, I mean; we'd be glad to join the push, wouldn't we?"

"I'm sure that Professor Ozpin would be amenable to some training missions in support of this hypothetical offensive," Professor Goodwitch said. "For experienced and exceptional teams."

"Well," Councillor Emerald said, "I'm sure that—" He stopped, interrupted by a buzzing coming from his breast pocket. "Excuse me a moment; this might be important." He turned away, putting one hand into his trouser pocket as, with the other, he reached into his jacket and pulled out his scroll. As he walked away from the wider group, he opened up the scroll one-handed.

He hesitated a moment, looking down at his scroll, before he pushed a button and then put the device to his ear.

"Novo," he said, "I'm a little surprised you're still—" He stopped abruptly. "Novo? Skystar what?"

Ruby frowned. Skystar? Was she in trouble?

"The press?" Councillor Emerald said. "But how did they—?"

"Excuse me, viewers, just one moment."

The voice of Lisa Lavender, issuing out of screens mounted on the corners of the squadroom, drew Ruby's attention. It had always been on, a late night news broadcast, including the news that they had captured Cinder Fall, but because it had either been stuff that Ruby knew — like today's Vytal fight results or the fact that they had captured Cinder — or hadn't been interested in — like Countess Coloratura's troubles with her management — she hadn't really paid it much attention. But … maybe it was because Councillor Emerald had mentioned the news, or maybe it was just because Lisa Lavender's words hinted at something surprising to come, but either way, it caught Ruby's attention in a way that the rest of the programme hadn't.

Judging by the way that he let his hand fall to his side, still holding his scroll, and turned towards the nearest TV screen, Councillor Emerald felt the same way.

Lisa Lavender had her head down. She had just been passed a note by someone in the studio, and she appeared to be reading it with intense concentration.

She kept her face still, she didn't frown or scowl — or smile, either — she was acting a lot like Cinder had been acting before Sunset and Pyrrha took her away, she was wearing a mask over her face just like them, so that you couldn't make out what was going on underneath.

She raised her head, and her face was still as expressionless as ever, though her voice was grave.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I apologise for that, but I have just been made aware of a late-breaking news story," she said. "Only minutes ago, this studio, along with other reputable news outlets, received, from an anonymous source, an email, addressed to us and to our fellow news outlets, written by the Amity Princess Skystar Aris but later deleted without being sent. This email, recovered and sent to us by someone who, in their own words, felt that the public have a right to know, accuses student huntress Sunset Shimmer of having caused the Breach and, thus, the deaths of six people, by detonating the mine in the tunnel underneath the city, creating the hole through which the grimm emerged.

"What?!" Penny cried. "What are they … why would anyone say something like that?"

"Sunset Shimmer, a student at Beacon Academy," Lisa Lavender went on, as Sunset's portrait appeared on the screen behind her, her smirk seeming obscenely inappropriate in light of what she was being accused of, "will probably be familiar to viewers as a contestant in the first two rounds of the Vytal Tournament. Miss Shimmer is the leader of Beacon Academy's Team Sapphire, which has gained a reputation in certain circles for being unusually active for first year students. Their achievements include the foiling of a major dust robbery at the docks, the capture of the wanted criminal Roman Torchwick, being present at the defence of the Breach and, as we were reporting on only tonight, the defeat and capture of the anarchist Cinder Fall as she attempted a terrorist attack at tonight's Vytal Carnival.

"The Breach is the name given to the incident in which an explosion originating in the abandoned subway tunnel linking Vale to the ruined city of Mountain Glenn allowed grimm to emerge into Lost Valley Square. Six people lost their lives in the incident. It is now alleged that Sunset Shimmer caused that explosion."

"That's insane!" Jaune said. "It was Cinder who did that, Cinder who blew the mine, Sunset … why would Sunset … why would Skystar just make this up?"

"And why would anyone believe her?" added Penny.

"According to the account delivered to us, Amity Princess Skystar Aris was present when Sunset Shimmer confessed the truth to First Councillor Aspen Emerald, then Councillor for the Interior, and former, then current, First Councillor Novo Aris. This was on the night of Novo Aris' resignation as First Councillor, and we have confirmed from eye-witnesses that Sunset Shimmer did visit the First Councillor's official residence that night."

"But that doesn't prove anything!" Jaune said. "I mean, just because Sunset was there doesn't mean that she said … that! Why would Sunset confess to something that she didn't do?"

"Why indeed?" General Blackthorn asked, an ugly smile upon his face. "Or we might ask why Skystar Aris would make up such a lie? Mightn't we, Mister Councillor?"

Councillor Emerald's chest rose and fell. His face had gone pale, but his voice carried sharply as he turned to face the general. "I don't think I care for your tone, General," he declared. "I don't appreciate snide insinuations based on—"

"According to Miss Aris' testimony, Councillor Emerald and former Councillor Novo agreed to keep the truth a secret. As yet, no other evidence has been produced to substantiate these allegations," Lisa Lavender went on.

"Baseless allegations!" Councillor Emerald declared, pointing at the television. He looked around the room, prompting Ruby to do likewise: the eyes of all the police officers present were either upon the televisions, or upon the First Councillor, or upon the remaining members of Team SAPR.

Their looks were wary, suspicious, in some cases, downright hostile.

Ruby could understand why. If the allegations were true…

If the allegations against Sunset were true.

If the allegations against Sunset that Jaune and Penny had just dismissed out of hand were true.

"Nevertheless, that was not the last time that Sunset Shimmer has been observed visiting the First Councillor's residence," Lisa Lavender went on.

"It isn't?" Jaune asked. "When did Sunset—?"

Councillor Emerald raised his voice. It carried across the squadroom. "Quite frankly, I am disgusted at the low journalistic standards being displayed by our press tonight; I had thought that Lisa Lavender at least was above this sort of thing, which would shame the lowest gutter tabloid on the market. An email, an email that was never sent by its so-called author, but which we are asked to take on faith despite the sender being anonymous, despite the fact that the author deleted it without showing it to anyone … can anyone find any of this remotely credible, even before we get into the story itself?

"I am not only the First Councillor of Vale; I am also a patriot. I love this kingdom, this kingdom that welcomed my grandparents when they fled out of slavery in Mantle, this kingdom that has given me the opportunity to rise to become its leading representative and its chiefest servant. Yes, servant. I have always served Vale with all my heart, and I would not — I would never — participate in a cover-up of this nature. If I knew of such a crime as was suggested just now, I would not hesitate for one second to drag it into the light!"

"And Sunset would never do something like that either!" Penny cried.

"No, no she wouldn't," Jaune said. "Sunset … Sunset wouldn't … that's not her."

Isn't it? Ruby thought, and felt a little dirty for the thinking.

It felt wrong to think it. It felt wrong to doubt Sunset, to consider that these allegations might be true, but…

Well, she did.

It would have been nice, it would have been great, it would have been wonderful to have been able to be like Jaune and Penny and just denied it, just heard it and immediately gone 'no, Sunset would never.' It would have been nice to have that much faith in her, to have thought that highly of her.

Maybe that's how you were supposed to think of your team leader.

But Ruby … Ruby liked Sunset, most of the time, but at the same time, she couldn't help but think about all the things that Sunset had said, and all the things that Sunset had done, and the people that Sunset cared about, and the people that she didn't.

She couldn't help but remember how Sunset had looked ill when they boarded the train heading down that tunnel, how she hadn't wanted to go and had practically had to be bullied by the others into doing it.

Ruby couldn't help but remember that Sunset had been all alone at the front of the train when the mine blew up; she'd gone on ahead to try and stop the train.

Ruby couldn't help but remember that if the mine hadn't blown up, then they would — probably, most likely — all have died down in that tunnel, died fighting the grimm, died fighting like true huntsmen and huntresses, died doing their part to keep Vale safe.

But Ruby couldn't help but remember that Sunset never showed much appetite for dying, under any circumstances.

Ruby couldn't help but remember all that, and so as much as she would have liked to have been able to believe in Sunset the way that Jaune and Penny could, instead…

Instead, Ruby found that she could believe in the allegations.

She could believe in them very easily indeed.

Is it true, Sunset? Is it true that you did this?

Did you really do what they're saying you did?

Were you really just a monster all along, and we never saw it?


XxXxX​

Cinder was walking now. In fact, she was walking with as broad a step as the shackles on her ankles would allow her, no shambling, shuffling gait, but a proud stride as though she were on her way, not to be taken away to prison, but to an appointment that she had been looking forward to and anxiously desired.

Her back was straight, her head was up, and she affected not to notice Sunset or Pyrrha, who yet held her by the arms — not that they needed to drag her or lead her on; if anything, it was they who were restraining Cinder at times.

She did not look a captive, other than the shackles and the fact that she was bound between … alright, yes, she did look a captive, but she did not look … she did not look as one might expect a captive to look. There was no trace of shame, no trace of defeat, there was no sense in her bearing, in the expression on her face, in her posture or her motions, that this was something that she did not desire or even welcome.

Perhaps she did welcome it; after all, the reverses that she had suffered did make her long for the release of death, but Sunset doubted it. Rather, she thought that this was another act that Cinder was putting on, another mask she wore, another show — for Sunset, for Pyrrha, even for Professor Ozpin, and eventually, for everyone else who might see her as well.

Equestria did not have a tradition of conduct going to the gallows, for the simple reason that they did not have gallows at all, or any other means of executing prisoners. Amongst ponies, to punish your enemies at all was seen as very gauche indeed, the behaviour of a less advanced, more barbarous race like dragons or griffons. Amongst ponykind, amongst sophisticated, civilised folk, it was the height of the aforementioned sophistication and civilisation to forgive those who wronged you, and even if they had done things too great to be forgiven, done wrongs that could not be dismissed with the wave of a hoof, then you shuffled them off to some far away place and forgot about them.

Sunset had sometimes wondered where she got her touch of the barbarian from; she had even contemplated the possibility that she might have some dragon blood in her, although Princess Celestia had told her that was impossible. The more unwelcome possibility was that ponies were not as civilised and sophisticated as they liked to think, and that in the absence of their cosy Equestrian lives and magical comforts, they could become as violent and bloodthirsty as the wildest of dragons.

No, no, that couldn't be it; that fault was in Sunset herself, not in her kind.

In any event, the point was that the Equestrians had no tradition of how one was supposed to bear up in the face of impending death, or at least not in the face of impending public execution, and so, Sunset had been surprised to find out, on arriving in Remnant, that in this world, there was just such a tradition.

It hadn't been quite as surprising that there was still such a thing as a public execution, but in any case, it had still been somewhat surprising to learn that the very same people whom kingdoms and citizens had condemned to be put to death were admired for the manner in which they met it.

After the Great War, when the last King of Vale had laid aside his crown, a relative of his — not one of Jaune's ancestors, but a closer cousin to the royal family, a branch that had been snipped away to pave the way for the primacy of the Arc claim — had claimed the throne and sharked up a list of lawless resolutes to press it by force. He had been defeated, captured, and sentenced to death. And then, when he had gone to the gallows to be hanged, he was said to have borne himself so nobly, and given such a fine speech, that many of those watching had been swayed to his side and wished that they had flocked to his banner while there was still time.

The authorities had hanged him quickly to prevent a riot.

And this a man who had tried to overthrow the democracy, and yes, democracy was a wretched system that empowered the very worst sorts, but the Valish seemed rather pleased with it on the whole and did not cry out for the return of the autocratic monarchy, even though that return would be in their own best interests.

They did not cry out for it, that is, until its representative was about to die and given the opportunity to spin a few pretty words before he died.

Unless Sunset was very much mistaken, and she doubted that she was on this occasion, Cinder was attempting to stand in the same line; she wished to go, or to be seen to go, to her death as nobly and as proud as a princess, and with a grace and bearing that would make all who had opposed her regret they had not been her servants. She probably had a speech prepared.

All this, in spite of the fact that she was not, in fact, going straight away to her execution, but only into confinement.

Although it might be the death of her nonetheless if Cinder spoke true.

If Cinder spoke true.

None of them spoke about it; on their way back from the cell, neither Sunset nor Pyrrha nor even Professor Ozpin said a word about all the things that had passed between Cinder's black-painted lips, and most especially, they did not talk about her laundry list of accusations of those who had embraced the cause of Salem.

Professor Lionheart, Tempest Shadow, Bon Bon, Amber. Amber. Amber most of all.

Sunset did not believe that. Sunset could not believe that. She could believe it of Professor Lionheart, by simple virtue of not knowing him and not caring whether he turned out to be a villain or not — Professor Ozpin might have a harder time of it — Bon Bon was a little strange to even think about, Tempest Shadow was another one Sunset had no opinion on except to note that she was one of Trixie's teammates, but Amber? Amber?

Their Amber? Sweet Amber, lovely Amber, romantic Amber, fragile Amber? No. No, there was no way; she did not have the temperament to do such a thing, nor even to attempt it? Amber a traitor? Amber, a servant of evil? No. No, no, no, it was impossible. If Cinder had wanted to be halfway convincing, she should have named someone who had, in the nicest possible way, greater reserves of courage and fortitude, not to mention someone who could stand to see others hurt.

One or the other, at the very least. Amber had none.

The accusation was so supremely unconvincing that just about the only thing it had going for it was the argument that it was ridiculous that why would Cinder make it up instead of a more convincing alternative?

No, there were definitely parts of Cinder's account that Sunset did not believe, just as she did not believe for one minute that Pyrrha or Professor Ozpin believed a word of them either.

But there were other parts of what Cinder had said that Sunset could believe, most particularly the bit about the siren. Pyrrha and Professor Ozpin — and the others, when they heard it — might not get it as instinctually as Sunset did because the idea of a siren was alien to them, but to Sunset … to Sunset, it all fit perfectly. So perfectly that she was mentally kicking herself for not having thought about it before — the only excuse she could make for herself was that she hadn't expected them to be in Remnant.

Although I probably should have expected that too, all things considered.

Starswirl the Bearded may have been the greatest mage in his day, but he was not very considerate, and he has much to answer for.


Regardless of that, the point was that Sunset could well believe, could perfectly believe, that there was a siren in Vale, stirring up discord against Atlesians and faunus alike, and that she had some part to play in the plans that Cinder had devised and that … someone, not Amber, but someone, Tempest Shadow perhaps, or maybe the siren herself, would carry forward.

They needed to find her. They needed to find her quickly. Sunset would need to convince the others of the urgency of it — and of the need to wear earplugs.

She would need to convince Professor Ozpin that this one part of Cinder's story, at the least, was worth taking seriously.

It seemed to be getting chillier in here, for some reason.

Or perhaps it wasn't actually getting colder; perhaps it was just the looks that the cops were giving them as they led Cinder into the squadroom.

No, not them, her. Sunset thought at first that they were looking at Cinder, but no, they were looking at Sunset herself. She didn't know why they were looking at her like that, but they were looking at her with hard eyes, with the looks of those who had just spotted a serpent slithering in their garden, with tight mouths, scowls crinkling their faces.

With hands that were twitching as though they wished to knot them into fists.

It was enough to make Sunset frown herself. What had she done?

They were approaching the others: Ruby, Jaune, Penny, General Ironwood and Professor Goodwitch, Councillor Emerald, General Blackthorn and Colonel Sky Beak. The Valish officers, with their soldiers behind them, were standing facing Ruby, Jaune, and Penny, with Professor Goodwitch and General Ironwood standing just a little behind them.

Councillor Emerald stood in between the groups, like a man caught between a rock and a hard place.

What was going on?

"Is something wrong?" Pyrrha asked as they drew near.

It was as though they had suddenly realised that they were there; perhaps they had only just realised that they were there, and they had been too distracted up until then by whatever else was going on. Whatever was the case, alerted by the sound of Pyrrha's voice, they turned to them.

They turned to Sunset.

Everyone was looking at her. Even Jaune, who could normally be relied upon to look at Pyrrha first, looked at Sunset first, and his eyes lingered there.

Eyes that were wide; Jaune and Penny were both looking at her like they were frightened of something, eyes wide and mouths open; Professor Goodwitch's eyes were narrow behind her spectacles; General Ironwood's brow was furrowed.

Ruby was … Ruby was staring at her intently; her eyes were wide too, but without the open mouth of Jaune or Penny; no, her mouth was a hard line, turned slightly downwards at the corners.

Her hands were shaking.

"Sunset," Penny said. "They … they're saying—"

"A reminder of our breaking news story," Lisa Lavender said, her voice issuing out of the screens mounted in the corners, issuing out from all four corners of the room to surround Sunset. "Amity Princess Skystar Aris has accused Sunset Shimmer of causing the Breach, and First Councillor Aspen Emerald and former First Councillor Novo Aris of covering up this fact."

Now it was the turn of Sunset's eyes to widen, to widen like saucers as she stared up at one of the television screens and at the images of Sunset and Skystar that now flashed up on either side of Lisa Lavender.

They both looked inappropriately happy; the smirk on Sunset's face would have looked inappropriate in almost any circumstances, but neither it nor Skystar's happier, less satisfied beam of joy seemed appropriate in the context.

Skystar? Why would you … and why now?

"This information was obtained from a deleted email written by Miss Aris and sent to various news outlets by an anonymous source."

Sunset's mouth opened. It hung there for a moment. This was … this was … this was the work of…

Cinder was right. There is someone still out there. And they have done this.

They've done this because they want people to be looking at me, instead of for them.

I think it's working.


Everyone was staring at her, except for Pyrrha and Cinder, who were — being as new to the situation as Sunset was — staring at the television.

What do you have to look at, Cinder? You know it's true.

"That…" Pyrrha murmured. She made a scoffing sound out of her throat. "That's preposterous, of course," she said, leaning forward to look around Cinder at Sunset. "That's ridiculous, isn't it, Sunset?"

Sunset knew that she had to answer. She knew that she ought to answer. She ought to agree with Pyrrha, to say that, of course, it was preposterous, it was all nonsense, that it proved Cinder right about continuing dangers waiting for them, trying to drive them apart. She ought to deny this for a load of nonsense, fabricated, forgery. She ought to challenge them to ask Skystar if she had even written this.

She ought to deny it.

But she could not.

She could not deny it, she could not … she couldn't say anything, she was … the words caught in her throat.

She couldn't muster the strength to get them out of there.

"Well, Miss Shimmer?" General Blackthorn demanded. "Is it ridiculous? Or should we be taking you into custody as well as Cinder Fall?"

"General Blackthorn—" began Councillor Emerald.

"You are not free of this either, Mister Councillor, certainly not free to pontificate," General Blackthorn snapped. "I asked you a question, Miss Shimmer: are these accusations true or false?"

Sunset said nothing. Her words … her words were turned to dust and ashes.

She glanced at the screen, her eyes flickering between General Blackthorn and the television. Between her accuser and the picture of herself as she had been once, all smirking arrogance, all ego, careless in her pride and heedless in her conceit.

She hated that picture so much that she wanted to blast the television apart with a bolt of magic.

She could say nothing. She could not deny it.

She knew that she ought to deny it; if she was going to confess, then the time to do it would have been … some time ago, to be quite honest, and certainly not now. She had left it too late, if only for the sake of Councillor Emerald, who would be destroyed by this if it came out, having hidden the truth for so long.

But at the same time … it was true. It was all true. It didn't matter if Skystar had written it, or Tempest Shadow, or someone else altogether; it was true. Sunset had caused the Breach. And the fact that she had left it this long to confess … she wasn't sure that she had the energy to perpetuate the falsehood, to deny it further, to deny it to the faces of her friends.

She didn't have the energy to lie, she didn't have the courage to confess, and so, she stood silent, and by her silence, she condemned herself.

"Sunset?" Pyrrha said softly.

"Sunset?" asked Ruby.

"Of course it's nonsense!" Cinder declared, shaking her arm free of Sunset's loosening grip. "Thin, contemptible, unbelievable, arrant nonsense! Slanderous, vile nonsense, to dare suggest that there was anyone responsible for the Breach but I when there was not! No hand but mine, no ambitions but mine own, no design but my intent to spread discomfort and a plague of fear upon this kingdom. I will not stand here idly by and suffer to be robbed of all the infamy that is my right, as though I am a mere factor to store up fear and hatred before it may be idly plucked from off my brow and bestowed on Sunset's head, no! I will not suffer it, I say—"

"Silence!" snapped General Blackthorn.

"Silence yourself, churl; fall to your prayers!" Cinder shouted. "Cut out my tongue if you would silence me, for otherwise, I'll speak with most miraculous voice and chew through any gag that you might place upon me." She paused. "You have defeated me. You have captured me and bound me, and you will kill me too, but while I live, I'll speak my piece, for I am a fair, plain-speaking villain. Yes, I am a villain, I do declare it and confess it. I am a villain. I have done villainy.

"I have done murders. I have murdered Phoebe Kommenos, I do confess it. I killed the Purifier, I confess that too, though if any mourn his passing, I have not heard of it. I caused the Breach. I and I alone, I do confess it, though confession would not be necessary if it were not for these continual, base efforts to steal my credit—"

"'Credit'?" Ruby demanded. "'Credit,' for what you've done?"

"Aye, Ruby Rose, for what I have done, I and no other," Cinder replied. "For what I have done, for I have done such things which, though they may be wicked in the extreme, have nonetheless possessed a power about them, a glamour borne of darkness, or why else do we discuss them now, why else does it lead the news? If I have done nothing of note, why does it lead the news that Sunset is said to have done this deed which I committed?

"This is not the first time that this has happened to me, you will recall; it was not so long ago that some scurrilous rodent, sneaking about to send in anonymous tips to muckraking magazines, suggested that Pyrrha and I were in cahoots together, with Pyrrha, of course, Princess of Mistral, Evenstar, Pride and Glory of that ancient realm reborn, she was the prime mover and I was her errand girl despatched out into the wilds to do the dirty work. Pyrrha and I disproved that charge with a ferocious combat; well, give me a sword! Set a blade in my hand and let Sunset draw Soteria, and I will prove it a second time that these accusations are false; she is no friend of mine."

"But you were friends, once," Professor Goodwitch said quietly. "Weren't you?"

Cinder raised her chin. "No," she said firmly. "No, there could never have been any true friendship between Sunset and myself, because I never let Sunset see the truth of who I was and what I was; she never met me as myself, and hence, she could never truly call herself my friend. How can one be friends with someone one does not know, will some wise fellow answer me that?

"I am the victim of repeated disgraceful allegations, and if I may say, this second set of allegations are more disgraceful seeming for the looks upon your faces. Did you ever look at Pyrrha with such suspicion? Or did you take it for granted that the great and illustrious Pyrrha Nikos would never stoop so low?

"I am the victim of repeated disgraceful allegations. I am continuously beset by them, which should tell you something about the nature of these slanders so carelessly and casually thrown about. Who will be my next master? Who will be the next amongst you to have been secretly holding my leash? Will it be you, Ruby? Or you, Jaune Arc? Or perhaps it will be…" She gestured at Penny. "I'm sorry, I keep forgetting your name."

"Penny," Penny said. "My name is Penny."

"Penny, yes, P is for Penny. Rosepetal: R-S-P-T, P is for Penny. I'm very sorry," Cinder said lightly. "I do not know what it is that makes me so unacceptable to the popular imagination as a villain, as a mover in these things, that they must invent co-conspirators, and superiors giving me my marching orders, as if they know me so well that they have judged I could not possibly have made my own decisions. I would blame the snobbery of it, but that would only explain Pyrrha and not Sunset. Nevertheless, these tiresome accusations vex me sorely, and are each as false as the other, you may depend upon it.

"I am no noble creature. I am, as I confessed, a villain. I have done things … such that it were better that my mother had not borne me. I have smiled, and murdered while I smiled. I have betrayed the faith of those who trusted me and hurt those who thought they cared for me. I have spread misery where'er I have been, and I daresay none will weep for my impending passing. Yet though I have shown little enough virtue, I nonetheless demand the dignity of my vices, mine to me. All that I have done, I did, of my own initiative, and neither Sunset nor Pyrrha nor any other played any part in directing me or assisting me or any other part that you could name or define … save in opposing me, and in the end, in bringing me down.

"And for that, Sunset deserves better credit than suspicion."

Cinder stopped and half looked as though she were hoping to get a round of applause from someone. No applause came, but Sunset saw some of the police officers in the corner of her eye nodding thoughtfully.

For that matter, Jaune nodded too.

Did you say all that because you were trying to help me out, Cinder, or because you really are upset at the idea of losing the credit?

Sunset felt a hand upon her shoulder, a gesture which made her jump, so sudden and so unexpected was it, and in such a shredded state had the news rendered her nerves in so short a time.

But it was only Professor Ozpin, resting one hand gently on her shoulder as he smiled benevolently over her head.

"I must admit that I am very loathe to agree with the likes of Miss Fall on anything, and certainly, I do not agree with her that there is any such thing as the dignity of vice, or any sort of glamour that accrues to the doers of wicked deeds, but in the broadest terms, I must agree that those who look upon Miss Shimmer with suspicion on the basis of this … well, on the basis of what appears to me, I must say, to be much ado about nothing … show less sense and good judgement than would be hoped for by people in serious, in some cases exalted, positions.

"Is Miss Shimmer perfect? No, which of us is? Does she yet have room to grow? Yes, of course she does, so do all of us; almost all of us, at least. But is she of low character, is she a villain? No. No, she is not. She is … Miss Shimmer is a brave girl; intelligent, if not as wise as I might always hope for; loving, to a fault; loyal to her friends; generous to those in need when she encounters need. She is, in all her faults and in her glories, a credit to Beacon Academy. She is a huntress I would trust with my life."

Despite the fact that she knew with her head that he was saying what he felt had to be said in order to get her out of this trouble, despite the fact that, with her head, Sunset could note that he had avoided flat out saying that she had not done what she was accused of doing, despite the fact that, with her head, Sunset spotted that he had managed to subtly point out a few of her faults, or at the very least, damn her with faint praise … despite all of that, despite all that she knew in her head, nevertheless, in her heart…

In her heart, Sunset could not help but be touched. Touched that he would stick up for her in this situation, though he, too, knew her to be guilty.

Touched that he would say those things, and in that way.

You would … you would trust me with your life? Truly?

True or not, it is very generous of you to say so.


"Professor," she murmured.

"And on the evidence presented," Professor Ozpin went on, "well, it hardly seems worthy of the name, does it?"

"Indeed it does not," Councillor Emerald said. "Until and unless anything is brought forward to substantiate these — I hesitated to use the word — allegations, the only crime that I see before me is that someone has hacked into Skystar Aris' emails and obtained this from her deleted folder. If, indeed, she wrote it at all."

"And if she wrote it, then deleted or not, do you not think we are entitled to ask why?" asked General Blackthorn.

"I suggest that she should be given the opportunity to answer that before you start arresting people," Councillor Emerald said sharply.

"For once, Mister Councillor, we are in agreement," Professor Ozpin said. "Certainly, as her headmaster, I could not allow Miss Shimmer to be taken into custody upon such flimsy grounds."

"Don't worry, Ozpin, that won't happen," Councillor Emerald assured her. "Let the press … no, I don't think I shall let the press prattle on, not for long, but for now, they may say what they like — but without consequence." His eyes fell upon Sunset for a moment, but he said nothing to her and swiftly looked away.

That was probably for the best, all things considered.

"In any event," Professor Ozpin went on, "there are more important matters to concern us than a few words bandied about regarding Miss Shimmer. I have just learned from Miss Fall that there may be another attack on Vale planned imminently. I know you like to be kept abreast of these things, First Councillor."

"I see you couldn't give me much warning again," Councillor Emerald muttered. "But I suppose this time it isn't so much your fault." He paused. "'May'?"

"Not all of Miss Fall's information is credible," Professor Ozpin admitted. "I am not sure how much of what she told me I believe. Nevertheless, there is no harm in caution. If what she told me is true, then there will be attempts to sabotage key Valish infrastructure, possibly coordinated with an attack by the grimm gathering outside Vale."

General Ironwood cleared his throat.

"The answer is still no, General Ironwood, although if this attack does take place, I will be grateful for your assistance," Councillor Emerald said. "I take it, General Blackthorn, that if the grimm attack before we are prepared to move forward, you will have no further objections to shooting at them?"

"No, First Councillor," General Blackthorn said in a voice that was almost a growl. "None at all."

"Then I will have the police beef up security around our infrastructure: power stations, pumping stations, the subway and the overground railway and the skydocks," Councillor Emerald added. "I assume that you and General Ironwood will continue to take responsibility for the CCT tower, Professor?"

"I will indeed continue to take good care of it, First Councillor," Professor Ozpin replied.

"Good," Councillor Emerald said. "Then if anyone tries anything, they should find us ready for them. General Blackthorn, kindly take your prisoner, Cinder Fall, away."

"Here I am," Cinder said, holding up her hands. "Come, let's away to prison." She chuckled.

Pyrrha released her as two Valish soldiers walked towards Cinder, the others moving to train their guns on her.

"Pyrrha," Cinder said, "I wish you good fortune in the wars to come. Seriously, do try and survive and win; it would be frightfully humiliating for me if someone else managed to kill you after I had failed at it."

"Mmm," Pyrrha murmured. "I will try."

"You do that," Cinder said. She looked at Sunset. "Be of good heart, Sunset, for you … for you have always had a good heart, in spite of what some people might tell you."

Yes, Cinder, some people might disagree with you.

I might disagree with you myself.

But thank you, anyway.

I wish … I wish that I could do more.


Cinder did not look like she wished that Sunset could do more. She did not look like she wished for anything; as the soldiers took her by the arms and dragged her away, she held her head up high, looked, as she had done when Sunset and Pyrrha had her by the arms, as proud as a princess.

Sunset's gaze followed her. A part of her would have liked to have actually followed Cinder, but a combination of what remained of her sense and the lingering shock over what had just happened meant that she stayed rooted to the spot, only her eyes following.

She did nothing but watch as they bore Cinder away, as General Blackthorn departed with his soldiers, leaving only Sky Beak behind; as they departed, taking Cinder away to an uncertain fate.

As Cinder was borne out of sight, dragged off to who could really say where, Sunset was forced to look somewhere else and was reminded that Cinder was not the only one facing an uncertain fate.

That was unfair; no one was going to kill Sunset.

Although there were a couple of cops who looked as though they might like to.

Pyrrha looked sympathetic to her presumed plight as a fellow victim of malign accusations, her head tilted slightly to one side, one corner of her mouth in a sheepish, slightly embarrassed smile, her eyes shining.

Penny had a confused frown upon her face, as though she didn't understand why any of this was happening.

And Ruby…

Ruby was still staring at Sunset. Ruby was glaring at her Sunset, the normal light absent from her silver eyes.

Glaring at her like she knew she was guilty.
 
Chapter 61 - Expelled From Paradise
Expelled from Paradise


Amber had made her decision.

She was going to tell them everything.

She was going to confess to Sunset and Pyrrha, to Jaune and Ruby, she was going to confess to all of them. She was going to do what Dove had suggested and trust in the fact that they were good people, kind people, people who cared about her.

People who would forgive her.

They would forgive her because … because that was who they were. That was who they were, and that was all there was to it.

She was still a little nervous as she waited in Team RSPT's dorm room, but at the same time … the ice in her stomach had begun to melt; it felt warmer down there now, and less unpleasant.

She simply awaited the return of her friends to admit the mistake that she had made.

She would tell them everything, they would forgive her, and then … then they would deal with Bon Bon and Tempest Shadow, she supposed. They would get locked away with Cinder, and then … then something would happen to them after that, she supposed, although she didn't know what.

Whatever it was … they would be out of her way.

All of Salem's followers would be out of her way.

And then … and then everything would be alright. Everything would be alright, and everyone would be safe, and … and then, she would have to say goodbye to those good, kind people, and go into hiding with only Dove for company.

Of course, she would have always had to say goodbye to her friends and go into hiding with only Dove for company, no matter what choice she made. At least this way, she got to actually say goodbye and leave them behind on good terms.

As opposed to them hating her for what she'd done because they were too brave to understand.

This had not been an easy decision for Amber. It had not been an obvious decision for her to make — obviously not, or she wouldn't have made the opposite choice before now — because … because she wasn't her friends; she couldn't just do the right thing, no matter, no matter how hard the path or how dangerous the road.

She had to judge on what the choice meant for her safety, for the safety of others too — at least, she tried to keep that in mind — and for her, difficulty and danger were more likely to put her off a road than anything else.

It had been a difficult choice. The considerations were … finely balanced. Because of course, if she told her new friends everything, if she betrayed Bon Bon and Tempest, then … then Salem would keep coming after her. She really would have to hide, then; it wouldn't just be a case of avoiding Ozpin and Sunset and all the rest, it would be a case of hiding in some dark place, isolated and alone, she and Dove constantly looking over their shoulders for Salem's next agent come to claim the Maiden's powers.

That was a worry. That was a worry that had been on her mind, but against that worry was the fact that … that they had protected her, her friends, they had fought for her, and they had won, while Salem's people who had promised to do the same had been shown to be pretty pathetic by comparison.

While her friends had saved her, for the second time, after Sunset had saved her life and brought her back. That … that earned them something, that made them … it made them seem, at this moment, the more trustworthy side to choose.

Certainly, they were the side who — Ozpin aside — didn't want to use her for anything.

And they would forgive her; if she had thought that they would not, that her behaviour would be punished by them, she wouldn't have been able to say anything. Fear would have tied up her tongue, and worse — she still hadn't told Tempest and Bon Bon what she had decided; until she actually spoke to Sunset and the others, her options were, in theory, open.

Not that she was likely to change her mind. She had made her decision.

And it was a decision that pleased Dove too.

Amber felt ashamed to admit it, but it turned out that she had missed the tension that had been in Dove since she had made her bargain with Bon Bon and, through her, with Tempest and with Salem. She felt sure that that wasn't entirely her fault — it couldn't have been easy finding out that Bon Bon had been lying to him all this time — but nevertheless, since she had made her decision, it seemed that that tension had drained out of him. He looked so relaxed now, as he lay with his head in her lap — they were both on Penny's bed, Penny not being here, Amber kneeling upon it, with her skirt spread out around her, falling off the bed on both sides; Dove lay lengthwise, his head resting upon Amber's lap, and even as she thought, even as her thoughts carried her far away to the cliff edge to look for Team SAPR's return, Amber's hand idly stroked at his face and played with his hair where his fringe covered his forehead.

And Dove smiled up at her, his blue eyes sparkling.

He thought that she was making the right decision. He didn't have any doubts at all. The fact that he had been willing to stand at her side even though he thought that she was making the wrong decision made her love him even more, appreciate him even more, but now … she was glad that she was making a decision that made him happy.

She didn't want him to be sad on her account.

And Bon Bon deserved to be punished for lying to him, for lying to someone so good.

Amber hoped that they did something harsh and terrible to her for that. Dove had trusted her, clung to her in Amber's absence, and she had betrayed him.

It's alright, Dove. I'm here now, and I won't leave you again.

She wondered … it was probably, certainly — almost certainly at least — unlikely that they would still want to take her to visit Mistral now; there would probably be some price for what she had done, for the lies that she had told, for the way that…

The way that she had betrayed them, just like Bon Bon had betrayed Dove.

Or worse.

But they will forgive me.

I hope they'll forgive me.

Dove says that they'll forgive me.

And I think he's probably right.


If she didn't think that, then Amber would not have decided as she had.

I can still…

No. No, I can't change my mind. Look how happy Dove is. I can't change my mind to something that would make him unhappy again, I can't do that to him.

Not unless it's something that he'd understand.

I'm asking so much of him already; I can't ask for more than that. I can only ask him to follow me so far.

Unless it's something that he could understand, and what would that be?

Nothing, because they'll understand as well.


"Yo, Amber!"

The voice of Rainbow Dash recalled Amber to her surroundings so violently that she jumped, and shuddered a little, and nearly displaced Dove's head for the violet movement of her thighs made his head bounce up and down as though a horse were trying to throw him.

"I'm sorry," Amber said quickly, stroking his face to soothe it. "I didn't mean to, I was…" She looked up, to see that everyone currently sharing the room with her — Rainbow, Blake, Ciel, and Twilight — were all currently looking at her.

Blake had a rather arch smirk upon her face, that looked as though the only reason she was not about to burst out laughing was that she was above such things, at least in such situations as these. Twilight did look as though she was about to laugh, and was covering her mouth in readiness. Rainbow's smile was a little slighter, but no less fond for it; even Ciel had such a fond smile upon her face, her lips pressed together, the corners of her mouth arching upwards, for all that she seemed to be trying to look disapproving with how stiffly she sat, and on the very edge of her chair, her fingertips resting upon her knees.

"Is everything alright?" Amber asked, looking around them. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Rainbow said at once. "No, nothing's wrong at all—"

"Well," Ciel interrupted her. "I am not at all sure that Dove ought to be lying like that."

Rainbow frowned. "What's wrong with how he's lying?"

Ciel blinked. "It is … his head is…" She gestured to her own lap.

"Country matters?" Blake suggested, in a tone as arch as her face.

Ciel cleared her throat. "Yes, Blake, thank you. Although how you can say that without blushing astonishes me."

"That's pretty tame considering some of the stuff she reads," Rainbow muttered.

"So, for that matter, is a young man lying with his head in a lady's lap," Blake pointed out. "Sun has laid his head in my lap."

"Yes, but we've just established that you are a girl of … certain tastes," Ciel murmured.

"Can you honestly say that you don't think it looks cute?" Twilight asked.

Ciel hesitated for a moment. "No," she admitted. "No, I cannot deny that it looks rather sweet, if one can ignore—"

"If you can stop seeing things that aren't there," Rainbow said.

Ciel sighed. "I apologise, Amber."

"It's fine," Amber assured her. "I mean … Yang said something today that got me thinking — that got us thinking — about how Dove and I should … about how much I want to … I think Yang got rather embarrassed—"

"In which case, we shall probably get rather embarrassed too, or at least, I shall," Ciel said. "So could we perhaps set the subject aside?"

"That would probably be for the best," Dove said. "Some things are best left private." He smiled up at her. "I'm just glad you're in such a good mood, after tonight."

"We all are," Rainbow agreed. "I called out to you because you were kind of spacing out, and we were worried about what kind of thoughts might be going around in your head—"

"You were worried," Twilight said. "It was obvious that only good thoughts could be going on in the mind of someone who was playing with her boyfriend's hair while he lay his head in her lap."

"I just wanted to make sure!" Rainbow declared.

"I'm fine," Amber assured her. "I … I'm better than fine. I'm good. I'm wonderful. Because things are wonderful, aren't they? Cinder is gone, and everything is going to be fine from now on."

Rainbow chuckled. "That … yeah, that sounds about right, doesn't it? At least for now." She tucked her hands behind her head and leaned back, pressing her hands between her head and the wall. "Everything is going to be just fine."

"For now," Blake pointed out.

"Yeah, sure, for now," Rainbow agreed. "There's always something. But for now, this particular something that we've been dealing with, that's over, and everything is going to be fine. Tomorrow is the last day of the tournament and then … and then we go home."

"And I go north," Blake added. "For good this time."

"And I'll go back to the lab," Twilight said.

"And we three, the rest of us, shall have new teams," said Ciel.

Rainbow nodded. "New teams for a new year at Atlas. A new year with a new purpose. A year without … without so much to worry about, hopefully."

Blake chuckled. "Hopefully."

"Yes, hopefully," Twilight agreed. "Definitely hopefully."

"Hopefully," Ciel said softly. "If the Lady will have it so."

"The Lady might not agree with me, but I think we've earned a break," Rainbow said. "A year when we're just doing school stuff … well, actually no, not just school stuff. I wouldn't say no to a few missions, just to remind everyone that we're the team that gets picked for missions, because we're the team that gets it done. Team…" She paused. She silently began mouthing words. "If Applejack comes back, and the General lets me keep Ciel, and Ciel, you still want to be on this team with me, then we can get back to Team Raspberry R-A-S-B."

"Or you could pronounce the C softly, as it is in Ciel, and get to the sound of Raspberry that way," Twilight pointed out.

"True," Rainbow agreed. "But, on the other hand, it might be cool to have a different team name, if anyone can think of one that has all of our names in it." She looked at Amber, and at Dove. "How about you two? Any plans for a quieter year ahead?"

"My year was already quite quiet," Amber pointed out softly.

Rainbow's mouth opened without any words coming out. "Yeah," she admitted. "Yeah, I guess, uh, I guess that it … sorry, it's just—"

"It's alright," Amber said.

"It kind of feels like you've been here a while—"

"It's alright," Amber assured her. "I just … I'd almost like a year that wasn't so quiet. Not in the sense of battles or enemies, or even particularly adventure, I suppose, but … something. I think that quiet is what awaits me: a quiet year, a quiet life."

Dove sat up. "There's nothing wrong with a quiet life. Our lives were quiet enough before you went away, and they were nice, weren't they? I was happy."

"And so was I," Amber said, taking Dove's hands in hers. "I was so happy, happier than I was to leave you by far." She paused for a moment. "I miss the cottage where I lived with my mother, and the woods where we met, and where we kept on meeting. I miss the tree where I would sit, and you would lie" — she looked up at Ciel — "with your head in my lap and let me sing to you. I miss the way the autumn leaves fell down around us. But…" She sighed. "I don't know, maybe it's just the part of me that used to love to listen to Ozpin's stories about the world beyond our little world, that wanted to see it for myself, or maybe it's the part of me that's gotten used to having so many new friends, like Sunset and Pyrrha and Ciel—" She smiled in Ciel's direction. "I know that we'll be very happy together, you and I, just the two of us…" She glanced down at her hands, holding his, and flashed her teeth in a bright smile. "Just the two of us for a while, at least. But at the same time, it feels like … like a door has just opened on a new world, a brave new world, that was also dangerous despite how brave it was … and now, just as the danger has passed, that door is about to be shut on me."

"Well, when you put it like that," Twilight said, "it makes us talking about the new worlds that wait for us next year sound a little crass."

"Oh, no, I didn't mean it like that," Amber said. "I would never … you all have so much to look forward to, and you have a right to look forward to it; I just—"

"You wish that you could have some Fluttershy adventure before you have to settle down," Rainbow said.

Amber frowned. "'Fluttershy adventure'?"

"Nice, gentle, and peril-free," Rainbow explained. "Perfect for a friend of ours."

"She sounds like a very wise and sensible friend, whoever she is," Amber replied. "Nice, gentle, and peril-free adventure, yes, that sounds lovely. That sounds very fine indeed."

"What about you, Dove?" asked Blake. "What are you looking forward to in the year to come? Or perhaps, should the question be, what kind of year would you like, if you had the choice?"

Dove was quiet for a moment. "Something … something for you to bear in mind is that, unlike you, I actually had a quiet year," he reminded them. "I wasn't privy to all of your missions, your battles, everything else. All I did was—"

"Worry about where Amber was," Rainbow said. "I guess that got pretty stressful, at times."

"It … weighed on me," Dove agreed. "And after I … after I gave up hope … then that was a different kind of weight."

Amber leaned upon him, resting her head upon his shoulder, pressing her body against his to remind him that he had never truly lost her, and he never would, now that fate and Sunset Shimmer had brought them back together.

She felt Dove put one arm around her in turn.

"When I came here to Beacon," Dove said, "I wanted two things. I wanted to find Amber, but I also wanted to be, how do I say it? I would say I wanted to be a hero, but that sounds a little too grand for my ambitions — it isn't as though I wanted to save the world or anything — but, at the same time, I wouldn't have objected to being a knight, or something like a knight, in any case, a knight like in the old stories, like Olivia or Percy or, to choose an example who was a man, like Bors or Owain or Sagramor the Northman. But I learned I wasn't really cut out for that sort of thing."

"You do yourself a disservice, I think," Ciel said. "You have not failed, that I am aware of; indeed, I would not say that you have been tested."

"I—" Dove began, but then stopped almost immediately. He was silent for a second, then he laughed, or forced a laugh. "I'd say the fact that nobody thought that I was worthy of being tested, nobody thought that I was testing material, that says something, don't you think? Nobody thought I was on your level, or Blake's, or Team Sapphire's?"

"That doesn't mean much," Rainbow told him. "There's a lot of great guys I could name who don't know what we know; it doesn't make them chumps: Trixie, Starlight—"

"Neon," Ciel added.

"You're all very kind," Dove told them.

"We are honest, or at least, we strive to be, when circumstances allow," Ciel said. "From your combat performance, I would rate you higher than Jaune."

"Jaune's gotten pretty good," Dove said, "and that sword of his has gotten a lot more versatile since it was reforged."

"You could get a new sword as well," Twilight said. "I could help you come up with some specifications; I've designed weapons for my brother, and Rainbow Dash, as well as Starlight's—"

"Again, you're all very kind," Dove said, raising one hand. "But not being able to find Amber, thinking she was gone, thinking that I'd lost her, and then getting Amber back, it's shown me, reminded me, what really matters."

Rainbow nodded. "Fair enough. You know what you want, so go for it. Go for it with everything you've got. Doesn't answer the question of what you want out of the year to come, though."

"Amber," Dove said. "Just Amber, at my side, or I at hers, however you want to phrase it. That's all I want."

Ciel sighed. "For that, Mister Bronzewing, I think you are entitled to lay your head in her lap without fear of further censure."

Rainbow's scroll went off. She looked first this way, and then that, before remembering where her scroll was and fishing it out of one pocket.

"It's from Ruby," she said. "Team Sapphire's back. And they want us to go down there. Apparently, there's something that we have to talk about."

XxXxX​

The ride on the airship back to Beacon had been … uncomfortable, to say the least. Probably the most uncomfortable airship ride that Sunset had ever been on.

Mostly because it had taken place in near complete silence. Professor Ozpin had been of no help whatsoever in that regard, lost in his thoughts as he was, although that was, to be fair, quite understandable.

Sunset would have liked to have been lost in her thoughts too. Even if that meant that she were lost in thoughts of Cinder and her impending fate, which might be very close at hand if she was right. She would like to be lost in thoughts of all the other things that Cinder had said, and which were right and which were wrong and which were worth looking into; thoughts of the Siren at large in Vale, and possible other servants of Salem lurking in Beacon, and the imminent attack and all the rest.

She would have liked to have been lost in thoughts of all such things, not necessarily because they would have been good thoughts — they almost certainly would not — but because at least they would have been better than the thoughts that she had at the moment.

Those thoughts, those other thoughts, those arguably more important thoughts, they still existed, in her mind, and to what extent they were able, they warred against the other thought that occupied her head at present, trying to squeeze out space for themselves, to make the case for their importance. And of course, they were important, more important than Sunset's own troubles.

But Sunset's own troubles, which were also in her mind and were the reason why she could not become as lost in thought as she might have wished, threatened to make them irrelevant.

Why was that, you might ask? Had not the allegations, raised without proof, little more than speculation or malicious gossip for all that they happened to be true and accurate, been dismissed by Professor Ozpin and Councillor Emerald? Had not Cinder spoken up in her defence, pointing out that very similar — and false, this time — allegations had been made against Pyrrha not too long ago? No official action was going to follow, she was not going to be hauled off to prison; some might believe what they heard on the news, and her reputation in some quarters might be tarnished accordingly, but that…

If that were all, then Sunset would not have felt such a chill about her. She would not have felt as though she had attracted a micro-climate as cold as Atlas around her and only her, chilling her to the bone despite her aura.

If it had been only the opinion of the general populace that had become, or was soon to become, mixed on her at best, then Sunset would scarcely have given it much thought. She might even have hoped that the vast majority of the people would not believe such a thin tale, without any backing, and that they would continue to regard her favourably for all else that she had done.

If it had only been the opinion of the general populace.

But it was not. It was also Ruby's opinion; and Ruby, Sunset feared very much, believed it.

She believed the truth, which was much more awkward than believing lies because … because Sunset wasn't sure; she didn't think that she had it in her to lie to Ruby about this.

Or at least, she didn't think that she had it in her to lie to Ruby about this anymore.

Despite the fact that, on some level, in some respects, she ought to lie, for the sake of Professor Ozpin and First Councillor Emerald, both of whom she had rendered complicit in her misdeeds — or perhaps it might be said that they had rendered themselves complicit, not that the difference was material — she ought to say what needed to be said to convince Ruby that all was well, that the accusations against were scurrilous, that there was nothing in it, nothing to worry about at all.

But Sunset couldn't do that. She just … she couldn't. She hadn't been able to at the police precinct, when Lisa Lavender's words had stolen away Sunset's own, and she doubted that she would be able to now, either.

She couldn't lie to Ruby, who had divined the truth already; she couldn't lie to Penny, Jaune, and Pyrrha either, who believed in her innocence.

She had betrayed their trust enough, it seemed.

I've picked a fine time to become honest.

Then again, I suppose if you can't be honest from the start all the time, then the second best time to start is always right now.

That's probably what Twilight would tell me, anyway, if I had time to ask her about it.

Perhaps I am lost in my thoughts, after all.

Just not the thoughts that I would prefer to be lost in.


But Sunset could not grow too lost in her thoughts because she could feel Ruby's eyes upon her, burning into her the way her silver-eye powers burned away the grimm. All through the airship ride, Ruby was staring at her, and every second that passed reinforced Sunset's impression from the police station that Ruby had read her right — read her better than Pyrrha, Jaune, or Penny had.

She would confront her once they were alone; of that, Sunset was certain.

Once they had left the airship, once they returned to their dorm room, Ruby would confront her; she would demand to know the truth.

And Sunset didn't think that she could lie to her — to them.

And then…

And then…

What then?

Sunset had really no idea, except that it was unlikely to be good.

And in the meantime, there is a Siren loose in the city, there may be other followers of Salem lurking in the shadows, and Vale may be about to come under attack.

We don't have time for this.

Which is why they've released this information now, of course.


Sunset glanced at Professor Ozpin, who was as silent as she was, and looked even more contemplative.

He would no doubt take steps to handle the impending attack; indeed, he had already begun to do so, and would continue to take more of them. He might, if he believed Cinder, take steps to safeguard the other Maidens whose locations were known to Salem, and to deal with Professor Lionheart. He might even do something about the Siren.

Sunset hoped he did, since she doubted that Team SAPR would be getting around to it.

I fear your swords are out of action, Professor; perhaps one of them will be so for good.

Whatever was about to happen to Sunset, she doubted that she would be allowed to remain as leader of Team SAPR with no fuss, no foul; the capacity for forgiveness that the others possessed was great, but it was not infinite.

The awkwardness — to say the least — between Sunset and Ruby infected the others; no one said anything at all, and Pyrrha's few attempts to make conversation died pitiful deaths, and since Professor Goodwitch and General Ironwood — who was returning to Beacon with them, not heading to his own warship — seemed no more inclined to speak than anyone else, it meant that the Bullhead which bore them across the rooftops of Vale was entirely silent.

It would have been a relief when the airship finally landed, if Sunset hadn't thought she knew what was coming next.

The air was bracing as she leapt down out of the airship onto the docking pad, but it wasn't as chilly as Sunset had felt inside the airship.

There was still no sound as everyone else exited the airship too, all in silence, the only noise being the thuds they made upon the docking pad surface as they disembarked.

It was Professor Ozpin who broke the silence, his voice sounding weary, although — hopefully — that was just from the fact that it was getting late.

"Students, as it is rather late by this point, and Miss Nikos has at least one fight ahead of her tomorrow, I strongly suggest that you go to bed," Professor Ozpin said. "Glynda, James, I must keep you up a little longer and ask that you join me in my office; we have things to discuss. I will ask Qrow to join us there."

"Of course, Oz," General Ironwood said softly. "We're right behind you."

"Thank you both," Professor Ozpin said. Nevertheless, he did not start right away for his office, but lingered on the docking pad, resting his cane upon the surface beneath their feet.

"I know that the end of this night was a little surprising," he said, his gaze sweeping across Sunset, Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune, and Penny. "But, if you can, don't let it take away from your sense of accomplishment. You won a victory tonight. Whatever else happened, or will happen, do not forget that." He looked a little as if he was trying to smile, but it was hard to be sure because it didn't get very far, his lips barely even twitching. "Goodnight, children," he said.

"Goodnight, Professor," Pyrrha said softly.

"Goodnight, Professor," Penny said, with a little more volume. "Goodnight, General."

General Ironwood did smile, despite the circumstances. "Goodnight, Penny. Lead on, Ozpin."

Professor Ozpin did not reply by words but by his actions; he began to lead the way, the tip of his cane tapping lightly upon the ground, letting out a slight rattling sound as it did so, and General Ironwood and Professor Goodwitch fell in behind him as he led on, following him down the path from the docking pad towards Beacon, heading for the Emerald Tower that rose up out of the darkness, its green lights shining in the sky to guide them in.

Sunset and the others lingered a little, there in the silence, giving the adults a little time to draw ahead of them.

Sunset thrust her hands into her pockets.

Ruby got out her scroll.

"What are you doing?" asked Pyrrha.

"I'm texting Rosepetal, asking them to come join us in our room," Ruby replied. "They should all be here for this."

"But Professor Ozpin said—" Penny began.

"I know what Professor Ozpin said," Ruby said, her voice growing sharp, like the edge of Crescent Rose. "But there's something that we have to do first."

Nobody gainsaid her further; Sunset certainly wasn't going to, little though she expected this to be any kind of pleasant experience for her, and it seemed that no one else felt that they should or could or wanted to either.

Ruby's thumbs worked across her scroll, sending her message to Team RSPT — and Amber too, perhaps, and Dove as well; how many people were going to be there for this? How many people were going to bear witness to her confession?

And can Rainbow Dash avoid giving herself away when it all comes out? She's another one I don't want to get into trouble.

Sunset licked her lips. "Could … could we do this in private, first? Does everyone have to be here for this at once?"

"It's better to only do it once," Ruby said, in a voice that brooked no argument.

Sunset didn't reply, but it seemed like that was the end of that.

The croaking call of a raven briefly disturbed the otherwise silent night.

Ruby put her scroll away and began to lead the way without asking or waiting for anyone else. She set the pace, the rest of them following along as though they were strangers here and Ruby alone knew where she was going.

In a sense, she was the only one who knew where she was going, just not in a strictly literal sense.

And so, with Ruby leading, they arrived at their dorm room, to find that the others — Rainbow Dash, Twilight, Blake, Ciel, Amber, and Dove — were all waiting for them outside the room, having had a shorter journey from the RSPT room than they had had from the docking pad.

"Hey, you guys," Rainbow said, hailing them with a wave of one hand. "Listen, congratulations on your big win — and I really mean that, by the way; you did something important out there tonight."

"You all helped," Penny pointed out.

"A little, perhaps, but it was by your efforts that Cinder was — finally, one might hope — subdued," Ciel replied. "You deserve all the praises that have and, if the Lady wills, will fall upon your head." She held her right arm before her waist and took a step back with one foot in an almost curtsy-like motion, even as she bowed from the waist as though she were leaning over her own arm. Her free arm swept outwards, her fingertips brushing the opposite wall. "I salute your courage and your skill."

"Really?" Penny gasped. "You do? Thank you, Ciel, that … that really does mean a lot. It means a whole lot. Thank you."

"All the same," Rainbow said, "it's getting late, and Pyrrha and I have to fight tomorrow — if it isn't today—"

"Yes, it's today," Twilight said. "It's past midnight."

"Okay, Pyrrha and I have to fight today," Rainbow said. "So as much as I would normally appreciate a good victory celebration—"

"This isn't a celebration," Ruby said. "And it won't take long." She opened up the door with her scroll. "Come on in."

Rainbow frowned as she looked at Sunset. Unfortunately, Sunset couldn't think of a way to convey 'Ruby knows about the Breach' through her eyes alone.

And so, everyone followed her, trooping inside the SAPR dorm room. Sunset stayed closed by the door, standing against the wall between the bedroom door and the bathroom door, not really looking at anybody else, keeping her eyes fixed upon the wardrobe doors on the other side of the room.

Except she could not wholly keep them there; her eyes fell to the initials and symbols carved on the wall next to Ruby's bed.

They were small, and smaller seeming at this distance, but Sunset could still make them out: the STRQ letters, and then the SAPR letters below them.

It seemed so very, very long ago, and they seemed such different people than they had been then.

Was I a better person or worse than I am now?

I had a worse attitude, but I hadn't done so many bad things.

I miss those days.

And I miss them more for knowing that they'll never come again.


The door shut, and it seemed to Sunset that it shut very heavily indeed, although she doubted that had been Rainbow Dash's intent.

Nevertheless, the door shut.

Amber looked down and fussed with the little gold bracelets on her wrists. Dove put one arm around her waist and whispered something into her ear.

Sunset heard something — a bird, maybe — tapping on the windows, but when she briefly glanced towards the window, she saw nothing there.

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

"This," Ruby said, facing Sunset, looking right at her. "This is about how Sunset caused the Breach. Didn't you?"

"Ruby!" Pyrrha cried. "That is completely uncalled for!"

"Why would you say something like that?" Penny demanded.

Sunset herself said nothing, as Rainbow Dash looked at her with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

"What?" Blake said. "I mean … what … Penny's right, why would you say something … what's going on here?"

"Don't you know?" Jaune asked. "It was on the news."

"We haven't checked the news," Twilight said softly.

"Although it seems that perhaps we should have," Ciel said. "Has Sunset—?"

"It's an accusation," Jaune said. "I don't know why…" He trailed off, glancing at Ruby.

Blake's brow furrowed as she got out her scroll, and opened it. "Let's see … I haven't gotten a notification." She swiped her finger across the screen and began to read. She blinked.

"Is it what Ruby made it seem?" asked Ciel.

"It seems," said Blake, with emphasis upon the word, "that someone has gotten hold, somehow, of a deleted email that Skystar Aris never sent—"

"How can anyone get hold of a deleted email?" asked Rainbow Dash.

"You'd be surprised how easy it is," Twilight said,

"But they're deleted," Rainbow replied. "That's the whole point!"

"They're deleted off your account," Twilight countered. "Nothing is ever really deleted off the CCT network."

"Except viruses, one would hope," Ciel murmured. "Blake, please, say on, what does this deleted email say?"

"What you'd think from what Ruby just said," Blake said, "that Sunset caused the Breach, that she detonated the mine at the end of the tunnel, that Skystar was there when Sunset confessed to her mother — Skystar's mother, not Sunset's mother, obviously — and Councillor Emerald, and that the two of them agreed to cover it up."

"And it's true," Ruby declared. "Isn't it, Sunset?"

"Ruby, how can you say that?" Pyrrha demanded. "How can you ask that? How can you gather everyone here like this for an absurd charade?"

"Pyrrha—" Sunset began.

Pyrrha ignored her, going on, "Need I remind everyone, as Cinder so recently reminded some of us, that I was subject to malicious accusations not so very long ago, and none of you suggested that those accusations were anything other than false. I am grateful for that, truly I am, but why can you not give Sunset the same faith and confidence that you gave me? This is very unkind, I must say."

"I'm not saying that Sunset worked with Cinder, or that she's working for Salem; that would be ridiculous," Ruby said. "But Sunset was up at the front of the train alone, and we were behind her: you, me, Jaune, Rainbow, Blake, Applejack." She paused. "And if the mine hadn't gone off, if there hadn't been that way out of the tunnel, then … even with my silver eyes, we would have probably died down there, wouldn't we?"

Pyrrha hesitated a moment, before saying, "That seems … yes, I think you're right."

Ruby nodded. "And that's why you did it," she said. "Isn't it, Sunset? Because you couldn't let us die. Because … because our lives meant more to you than Vale surviving. Because our lives have always meant more to you than … because you've never been able to make the hard calls. You've always…" Again, Ruby paused, hesitating for a moment. "Or am I wrong?" she asked. "Look me in the eye and tell me that I'm wrong. If you do, if you can tell me — not Cinder, not Professor Ozpin, you in your own words — if you can tell me that I'm wrong, and all of this is just make believe from Skystar or whoever, then … then I'll believe you." Ruby swallowed. "Because I'd really like to believe that, even now."

Now they were come to it. Now they had arrived at the moment. Now was the point…

Now was the point at which it could no longer be avoided.

There was a voice in Sunset's head which was telling her to lie: lie for the sake of Professor Ozin, lie for the sake of Councillor Emerald, lie for the sake of Rainbow Dash — although, hopefully, that wasn't what was on Rainbow's own mind as she shook her head ever so slightly.

Lie for the sake of the team.

Lie for the sake of herself and the life that she had here that was about to come tumbling down.

There were a million reasons to steel herself and look Ruby in the eye and lie with all the conviction that she could muster. A million reasons to just look her in the eye and say 'I didn't do this; these allegations are false.'

A million reasons to lie, and only one reason to tell the truth.

Because it was true, and because she didn't have it in her to lie anymore.

Okay, two reasons to tell the truth.

Everyone was looking at her. Everyone was looking at her with curiosity, confusion, with the exceptions of Rainbow Dash and Ruby.

Sunset was sure that that would be preferable to the way that they'd be looking at her in a second.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath and steeled herself for what was to come.

She tried to steel herself. She wasn't sure it really worked.

"Sunset?" Penny whispered.

Sunset opened her eyes and looked straight at Ruby. She looked Ruby in the eye, just as she had asked her too, and said, "I can't."

Rainbow closed her eyes and bowed her head. Pyrrha gasped, one hand flying to cover her mouth. Amber's eyes widened, while Dove glanced frantically between Sunset and Ruby, his grip upon Amber seeming to tighten.

Penny stared at Sunset. "You can't? What do you mean, you can't?"

"You mean…" Jaune began. "You mean—"

"I did it," Sunset said. "I did … everything in that email is true."

"But … how?" Blake asked. "How could you physically—?"

"Cinder had left me the detonator," Sunset explained. "It was there, in the train cab, when I arrived."

"The detonator?" Blake repeated. "Not a detonator?"

"The detonator or a detonator, what's the difference?" Rainbow demanded.

"Calling it 'the detonator' implies that it was the only one," Blake pointed out.

"Then it was a detonator; there's no way that Cinder would put the only detonator on the train where it might not get used and all her planning might come to nothing," Rainbow declared. "If Sunset hadn't done it—"

"But Sunset did," Ruby said, in a voice that was not loud, not raised, but nonetheless managed to rise above Rainbow Dash and silence her. "It doesn't matter how many other detonators there were; it just matters that Sunset used the detonator that was right in front of her. To save us."

"That's right," Sunset said, in a voice rendered hoarse by her dry throat. "To save you."

"You prized our lives above all of Vale?" asked Pyrrha.

"Yes," Sunset said softly.

"But people died!" Jaune cried.

"I know," Sunset said, her voice still quiet.

"People died!" Jaune repeated, striding forwards towards her. "Miranda almost died! Her friend actually died, and Miranda … you saw how sad she was, how she couldn't even stay in Vale any more, and that … that was because of you?"

"I didn't mean for that to happen."

"Well, it did!" Jaune shouted into her face.

"I know," Sunset whispered, cringing before him.

"Jaune," Pyrrha began.

"What did you think was going to happen—?!"

"Jaune, that's enough," Ruby said, again in that voice which managed to be powerful without being loud. Perhaps it was the sharpness of it, for though it was not loud, it was sharp nevertheless, a scythe blade of a voice cutting through all other voices.

Jaune looked over his shoulder. "But—"

"I know," Ruby said. "What Sunset did was wrong. But that doesn't mean … that's enough. Please."

Jaune hesitated for a moment, looming a little over Sunset, casting a shadow over her, enveloping her in it as he blocked out the light. Sunset shrank back before him, and she remained shrank back as Jaune turned and walked away, leaving everyone else free to stare at Sunset, just as they had before.

"Nevertheless, it is a question to be asked," Ciel said. "What did you think was going to happen?"

"Does that matter?" asked Ruby.

"Does any of this matter?" Ciel responded. "We are not a court, we have neither power or authority to punish Sunset for her actions, so surely, the only reason for us all being here is so that we may gain some measure of understanding?"

"I asked you here because I wanted you all to know," Ruby said.

"And I, knowing, would like to understand," Ciel declared. "If that is permissible?"

"I thought," Sunset said, "I thought that the warning, sent on by you to General Ironwood, would enable the Atlesians to respond in time to repel the assault."

"As we did," Rainbow interjected, prompting Blake to glance at her.

"And if there hadn't been a warning?" demanded Jaune.

"Then Sunset would have made the same choice," Ruby said. "Wouldn't you? You still wouldn't have let us die down in that tunnel?"

Sunset shifted in place. "I … I don't know."

"Don't you?" asked Ruby.

"No," Sunset insisted. "But … I fear not. You are too precious to me."

"Our lives are not worth a kingdom," Pyrrha murmured.

"So you have said," Sunset replied. "And I, with my deeds, have answered you."

"But you confessed," Blake said. "If what Skystar wrote is right — and it was right on that, so why not? — then you confessed to the First Councillor of Vale, and the former First Councillor. Why?"

"Because I felt guilty," Sunset said. "I … First Councillor Aris was about to be thrown out of office because of the Breach, because of what I did, because of me. I thought that if I came clean with her, then she could use that information to save herself."

"You felt guilty about a politician's career but not about people dying?" asked Jaune incredulously.

"Of course I felt guilty!" Sunset snapped, her voice rising. "I … you can judge me all you want, hate me if you want, but please don't … don't assume that I have borne this with a light heart all this while."

"The blows on your face," whispered Pyrrha.

"So you told the First Councillor, the past and the present one," Ruby said, "and then they covered it up between them?"

Sunset nodded.

"Why?" Ruby demanded. "Why would they do something like that?"

"Councillor Emerald didn't want to, at first," Sunset said. "He wasn't very happy with me."

"You could have fooled us with how chummy you and he were tonight," Jaune said.

"He … his attitude towards me has softened a bit," Sunset said. "But back then, it was Councillor Aris who pressed to keep it all secret. They talked it out in private so I don't know exactly what passed between them, but … I think they were afraid that feeling in the city would be even worse than it was then if it came out. And it was too late to save Councillor Aris, far too late. It was better for Vale if they kept on thinking that I was a hero who had defended the Breach, rather than—"

"The reason there was a Breach at all," Ruby finished for her.

"Yes," said Sunset, in a voice so low it barely carried past her lips.

"So when Councillor Emerald defended you, he was lying," Ruby said.

"Yes," said Sunset, scarcely louder than before.

She made no mention of Professor Ozpin. She would not mention him unless pressed to do so.

Ruby frowned. "I can't believe they did that," she muttered.

"Councillor Emerald seemed so nice," Penny pointed out. "I think … I think that he must have thought that he had a good reason for doing what he did; just like Sunset thought that she had a good reason for doing what she did, even though we don't agree. Even though it was wrong, what she did. It was wrong, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Ruby said. "Yes, Penny, it was wrong. It put people in danger. A huntress would have known that we accepted the risks when we went to Mountain Glenn, we accepted the risks when we got on that train—"

"Sunset didn't want to get on the train," Rainbow pointed out.

Stop trying to defend me, Dash; you'll give yourself away.

Ruby inhaled through her nose. "No," she said. "No, she didn't, I remember that. But Sunset was the one who volunteered to head up to the front of the train and stop it. And you ought not to have undertaken it unless you intended to go through with it. Our lives … a huntress would have known that we accepted the risks and that we were prepared to give our lives to defend the people." Her mouth tightened. "But I'm not sure that you were ever really a huntress, were you?"

Pyrrha frowned at that, but said nothing.

Sunset, too, said nothing. As a charge, it was hard to deny, no matter how much it stung.

Ruby seemed to grow taller before Sunset's eyes; she seemed to be looking down on Sunset from on high, as though she were even taller than Pyrrha as she said, "Do you have anything to say for yourself? Anything at all?"

"I could not lose you," Sunset whispered. "I … just couldn't lose you. You mean everything to me. That … was my only thought. I couldn't lose you."

Jaune frowned and put his hands in his pockets and snuck a glance at Pyrrha, even as Pyrrha clasped her hands together and looked down at the ground with a melancholy expression on her face. Penny reached out — towards who, exactly, Sunset could not say — before pulling her hands back quickly.

"That's too bad, because you have," said Ruby, without any malice in her voice, as casually as though she were stating the weather. "First Councillor Emerald may have decided that this was worth keeping a secret, but I'm going to tell Professor Ozpin—"

"Professor Ozpin knows as well," Sunset said.

Now it was Ruby's turn to let out a little gasp, her silver eyes widening a little bit. "Professor … he knows?"

"I told him too," Sunset admitted. "Councillor Emerald knows that he knows, but Skystar doesn't. That's why he wasn't mentioned."

"A small blessing amidst all this," Ciel observed. She frowned. "General Ironwood—"

"Doesn't know, unless Professor Ozpin told him without letting me know," Sunset said.

"Professor Ozpin knows?" Ruby repeated. "Professor Ozpin knows? But he … he's supposed to be … he's a huntsman? He's the model of a huntsman. So why would he let you get away with this?"

"Because he…" Sunset hesitated. "You might have to ask him that; I'm not sure that I could explain it."

"I will," Ruby declared, some of the firmness returning to her voice after it had been shaken by the revelation about Professor Ozpin. "I suppose … I suppose that we don't have to agree with every decision that Professor Ozpin makes. It's not like we've all been a hundred percent behind him in the past, is it?" She paused. "I suppose … I suppose it is important that we not panic people. Vale is on edge as it is, and if everyone knew what you had done, then it might turn them against the faunus even more than they have already, and I don't want that. Nobody wants that. And I guess that it's the job of people like Professor Ozpin and the First Councillor to see the big picture, even if I don't agree with how they've arranged the little pictures to get there. So everything that you've just told us will stay between us, and everyone else can be convinced by what the First Councillor says, that it's just an accusation with no proof behind it, like happened to Pyrrha." Another moment's pause. "But you have to go, Sunset; you can't stay here anymore."

"I…" Sunset had expected this, dreaded this, and yet, all the same, now that the moment had arrived, it caught her by surprise. "No."

"Yes," Ruby replied, her words as heavy as inexorable destiny and just as inescapable. "You're not a huntress, if you ever were, and you don't belong here, if you ever did."

Sunset glanced at Pyrrha, as if there might be some—

"Don't look at her," Ruby said. "You and Pyrrha don't get to pat me on the head and tell me I'm wrong, not this time." She closed her eyes for a moment. "I don't know you, Sunset Shimmer. For a while, I dreamed I did. For a while, I dreamed of someone just like you, someone who cared too much about some things and cared too little about others; someone who was selfless and so, so selfish at the same time; someone strong, and at the same time, oh so weak. I dreamed of someone just like that, but now that I've woken up … I despise my dream. I never knew you. None of us did."

"In that, you're wrong," Sunset whispered. "You knew me in my faults and in my glories too. You knew me better than anyone has known me since she who raised me knew me. You knew me well enough to know that I had done this thing, though all around insisted I had not. You knew me, and knowing me, you hold me in contempt."

She would not cry. She would not weep; she would not have them think that she was turning on the waterworks in a bid for sympathy, to try and guilt Ruby into changing her mind. She did not want to be seen that way, here at the end. She would depart with her dignity wrapped around her, what tattered shreds of it remained. She would depart like Cinder going to the gallows, head held high.

Partly for that reason, because she feared that her dignity would slip away from her if she lingered too long, and partly because she doubted that Ruby had the patience to allow her a long goodbye even if everyone else in the room had been willing to hear it, Sunset prepared for this rare instance to be brief.

"There are things that Pyrrha heard from Cinder that are important," she said. "Please, don't forget all about them because of this."

"No," Pyrrha said. "No, we shall not; I … we shall not."

There was so much else that Sunset wanted to say that the unspoken words kept her rooted to the spot for a time, but she had told herself that she wouldn't try and draw this out — not that anyone else would want her to draw this out — and so, her breast heaving, she turned towards the door.

"Hang on, hang on," Rainbow said. "Ruby, you can't just … you can't just banish Sunset!"

"I can," Ruby said, and her voice trembled a little despite her control over it. "I do."

"Rainbow," Sunset murmured. "That's enough." She walked towards the door, though her legs felt heavy, and every step felt a struggle. Even to reach for the door handle felt like it was putting a cramp in her hand.

She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes.

Keep it together.

She looked back, back at everyone who had made her life, her world, so different from what she had imagined, so much better.

The people who, like that life, were lost to her now.

"It's … it's been fun," she said, and then flung open the door and stepped through it before she — or anyone else — could say more.

The door shut behind her, with an even heavier sound than when it had shut with everybody coming in.

At least, it sounded that way to Sunset.

The corridor was empty. No one stirred from Team YRBN's room to investigate the noise.

No one stopped Sunset as she started to walk away. She walked away as quickly as she could, her stride quickening with every step she took until she was running, running down the corridor, running down the stairs, bursting out of the door at a flat run with her head bowed and her ears drooped down into her hair and tears flying out after her.

Memories filled her head, memories that she didn't want to think about, memories that rose unbidden, memories that demanded to be recalled, memories that would never come again, memories that kept the tears flowing.

Sunset's arms pumped as she ran past the statue of the huntsman and huntress, ran … she didn't even really know where she was running to until she came to a stop not far from the Emerald Tower.

She looked up to where the green lights burned in the darkness. Up to where Professor Ozpin worked with his lieutenants to plan the defence of Vale.

Take care of them, Professor, Sunset thought. I beg of you.

She wiped the tears away, although more followed on so swiftly after that there wasn't much point.

"Yes," she whispered to the night and to the moon and to the green lights above. "Yes, it's been fun."

XxXxX​

Amber only understood some of what had just happened.

Everyone had talked about something called the Breach. The Breach. The Breach. Sunset had caused the Breach, people had died in the Breach, Sunset had fought — or people thought she had fought; that part was unclear — to defend the Breach.

It had involved an explosion and something about a tunnel and a train, but nobody had told Amber about this Breach, and nobody had stopped to explain what it was, and given the mood of the room — and her own mood — Amber didn't feel like asking.

Besides, she understood the important part well enough.

She understood what had just happened here very well indeed.

Dove had advised her to come clean, to confess what she had done or planned to do. Dove thought — and he must have believed it, or he never would have advised such a course — that they would forgive her, because they were kind people with forgiveness in their nature.

Amber had believed him. Amber had thought the same as he.

She did not think so now.

Amber didn't understand what the Breach was, but she understood perfectly that Sunset had ventured upon the forgiveness of her friends, and those friends — Ruby, in particular — had rejected her.

No, it was worse than that; Ruby had done worse than that. She had destroyed Sunset before their very eyes.

Amber could not confess now, not after what she had seen, not after that glimpse of what awaited her if she did confess.

Sunset had thought that she was saving her friends, Sunset had thought that she was doing the right thing — Amber understood that much, at least; they would have died were it not for Sunset — and none of it had mattered. None of it had availed her in the eyes of Ruby and the others.

In the morning, they had loved her. In the morning, they had embraced her as their dear friend and comrade. In the morning, she had been a part of them, but now...

Now, they knew her not. Now, they despised her. Now, she, and the time that they had spent together, was but a dream that they had dreamt, a dream worthy to be held in contempt.

She was their friend, was, or had been, and had protested that they knew her as well as anyone. It made no difference. Ruby had cast her out all the same. She was unclean, her deeds too dark to be expunged, too vile to be borne.

And Sunset had the sanction of Ozpin, which Amber certainly did not possess and was scarcely likely to receive.

It had not been enough to save Sunset, and Amber did not even have that shield — and that was without considering how Ozpin himself was likely to react when he found out what she had planned to do.

No. No, these were not forgiving people, and Amber could not put her trust in them; she could not tell them all. They would do … Amber wasn't certain what they would do, but it would surely be terrible.

Perhaps they would wait until Cinder was dead, then find a new Fall Maiden and kill her to pass the powers along. Perhaps it would be Ruby, who seemed so righteous and so free from indecision.

Amber could not tell them, and Dove would understand that now, for sure, having witnessed the same as she, the same cruelty, the same absence of any mercy or forgiveness.

He would understand that they were locked into their course, as little as they liked it.

The dorm room had been silent throughout Amber's deliberations, no one speaking, no one even breathing loudly. Ruby stood in the centre of the room, back straight and head up, but her body trembling from head to toe.

"I didn't mean to be cruel to her," Ruby said, ignoring the fact that to Amber's eyes she had been very cruel indeed, "but as huntsmen and huntresses, there are certain," — she sniffed — "certain standards that we have to uphold; there are values that we have to live by, or calling ourselves huntresses doesn't mean anything. Sunset broke too many of them."

"But," Penny began, "Professor Ozpin—"

"I know," Ruby said. "I know, I need to … at least, I want to speak to him about that. I need to tell him…" She blinked, and wiped at her pale cheek with one finger. "I didn't want to be cruel, but I did the right thing, I'm certain. There was no way that … Sunset might not be punished for what she's done, but she couldn't stay here, and she couldn't lead this team, not anymore. She should never have led this team to begin with." Her voice dropped. "It would have been better if she'd never come at all." She sniffed again. "Pyrrha?"

"Yes?" Pyrrha asked uncertainly. "Yes, Ruby?"

"Will you take Sunset's book?" Ruby asked. "Her magic book, her journal, and try and catch up with her before she leaves and give it to her? She should have it, and I don't want her to … I don't want her to have to come back for it later. I hope that having it will bring her some comfort."

"Of course," Pyrrha said. "Right away."

"And I'll go with you, if that's alright," interjected Amber. "I … I'd like to say goodbye."
 
Chapter 62 - I Would Have Followed
I Would Have Followed


A raven cawed out in the darkness. Sol Invictus jostled a little on Sunset's shoulder as she trudged across the ground towards the garages.

She had called in on the locker room — it was locked, but that was no obstacle to someone who knew the layout of the room well enough to teleport inside — to retrieve her rifle and her armour, but she had left Soteria where it was; she did not have it with her. The cuirass and vambraces she had thought about leaving, since they had been purchased with Lady Nikos' money, and she was hardly going to be putting them to the use to which Lady Nikos had intended, but, at the same time, it might also be said that Sunset had already paid Lady Nikos back the value of the armour in the services which she had rendered on the battlefield and in the Amity Colosseum.

And besides, what was Lady Nikos — or anyone else, for that matter — going to do with an ordinary breastplate and two vambraces, plain and unadorned? Did she not have an armoury of antique gear of war, groaning with pieces much finer than these and with more distinguished histories? What would happen to these things, if she left them behind, except that they would be thrown away, tossed in the garbage?

They deserved better than that, although what Sunset could give them, and whether that qualified in any way as better, she could not say.

But Soteria … Soteria was different. Soteria was no ordinary blade, purchased with a few of Lady Nikos' lien; Soteria was an ancient and a venerable blade, old in honour, storied in history, a sword the ownership of which the heirs of Nikos and Kommenos had contested. It was a sword that Lady Nikos had gifted Sunset out of that same armoury in which Sunset's armour would seem too mean to command a place, a sword that had played a part not unremarkable in the history of Mistral itself. Lady Nikos had given Soteria to Sunset that she might use in Pyrrha's defence, or at the very least to fight at Pyrrha's side. It was not Sunset's to take with her into mean, dishonourable exile in … where?

Where did Sunset mean to go next?

She did not know. Her thoughts had carried her no further than the garage, where now, her steps brought her to rapidly catch up with thought. She had intended to get her gun, which she had done, and then go to the garage and get her bike, which she was about to do, because she would have need of transport where she was going.

Except she didn't actually know where she was going, only that wherever it was, having her bike with her might be advisable.

Except … would it? Would it really? Did that not all depend on where, precisely, she was going to go, a question that had not yet been answered, a question that had, in point of fact, scarcely been asked?

Sunset's steps slowed, until eventually, they came to a complete halt. Where was she going? Or perhaps the question was, where did she mean to go? Until that question was answered, could she really say yea or nay to whether she needed to have her bike?

Was she going to ride, or try to ride, through the hordes of grimm that General Ironwood said were gathering upon the outskirts of Vale? Did she really—?

No. No, I do not hope for that. Though I have lost much, I do not … for whatever reason, I do not desire to swiftly end in a beowolf's belly.

Perhaps it is just a sense of the inherent hypocrisy — not that I am inherently opposed to all hypocrisy, but still — of being exiled for saving the lives of my friends and then immediately getting myself killed.

Or perhaps I still have hope.

Or perhaps I am still vain enough to think that life and fate may not be done with me yet.

Or perhaps … perhaps I just don't want to die.


That was a satisfactory enough explanation; it even had the merit of being — or feeling, at least — true. She did not want to die.

She wasn't sure what she was going to do with her life, but she did not want to end it.

But what would she do? Where would she go?

You could go home.

Is that my own thought suggesting that, or Princess Celestia?

Princess Celestia would probably add some term of endearment, but yes, she would remind me that I will always have a home in Equestria, if I wish it.

I could go back, I suppose. There is nothing to stop me, unless you count the possibility that flights are grounded by grimm activity. But that will be cleared up eventually, or at least, one would hope so, and after that, I could get a flight to Atlas, and from there to Canterlot, and from there…

Just a step there through the mirror, and I would be back in Equestria.

Back in Equestria, back on four hooves, back with a horn protruding out of my head; I would never have to worry about grimm or Salem or anything else ever again.

I could find something to do there, no doubt. I would not be a hero there — Twilight and her friends have that covered — but at the same time, I wasn't much of a hero here, so it's probably for the best that I wouldn't need to get involved there. But I could find something to do, with my brains, my magical talents. I could do research. I could become an adventuring explorer like Daring Do. I could … I could do whatever I wanted, and no one would gainsay me. I could do anything. I could make new friends; I am not too old for that.

I'd have to make new friends, seeing as how I'd never hear from or of the old ones again.


Sunset stood, halfway to the garages, and adjusted Sol Invictus where it sat on her shoulder. She kept one hand upon the sling of the rifle, gripping it tightly, perhaps even a little too tightly.

If she went back home, then not only would she never see her friends again — there was a very high chance that she would never see them again anyway — but she would never hear of them again either. Never hear of their deeds, their successes or failures, their fates. She would never read an article or watch an item about Jaune and Pyrrha's wedding; she would never find out how Penny was getting on at Beacon, never catch word of Blake's promotions, her rise through the ranks of the Atlesian military. She would never know anything. If she went back to Equestria, if she went back through the mirror, then she would be severing all connection not only with the place where she had lived for years now, but also with the only people she had ever loved who were not named 'Princess Celestia.'

If she went through the mirror, if she severed that tie, then she would be left to wonder. She would be left to wonder for all that she could do would be to wonder, and Sunset knew that if she put herself in that position, then for as long as she lived, for the rest of her days, she would wonder; she would wonder how they were doing, what had become of them, what victories they had won, whether they were happy.

Whether they were still alive.

If she went back to Equestria, then she would leave a piece of herself behind here in Remnant, a piece of her soul that remained trapped here, unable to depart, and that missing part would eat away at her and feed her dissatisfaction.

If she went back to Equestria, then a part of her mind would be forever turned back towards Remnant, consumed with speculation.

I will never be able to forget.

No. No, I cannot go back. I am sorry, Princess Celestia, but I cannot go back to Equestria. These people, they … they mean too much to me. Though they may not want to see me, though they want nothing to do with me, though they think me now as bad as Cinder, nevertheless, I cannot simply waltz off to another world.

Not like I did before.


Yes. Yes, that was what she had done before, wasn't it? Failed in Equestria, so gone to Remnant; well, it might be said — and with some truth and justification behind it — that she had failed in Remnant too, but nevertheless, she would not simply respond by going to Equestria as she had once fled to Remnant.

Fleeing to another world had turned out to be the best decision that she'd ever made, but that hadn't made it a right or good or certainly not a mature decision. She was not that person anymore; she had … she had something to stick around for, if that made any sense at all.

Yes, Ruby had banished her, yes, they had forsaken her, but nevertheless … nevertheless, she was going to stick around. She couldn't just leave Remnant; she couldn't just leave them. Pyrrha, Ruby, Jaune, Penny, Blake, Rainbow Dash … though they might not want her around, nevertheless, she would…

Sunset wasn't exactly sure what she'd do, but she wouldn't leave this world, with all of them in it, behind. She wouldn't run away to a different world where her life would be easier. That wasn't who she was, not now.

What she was, now that she was no longer a huntress — if, as Ruby said, she had ever been a huntress — or a Beacon student, that was something that was harder to decide.

Where did she go from here? She had narrowed it down to going somewhere in Remnant; unfortunately, that didn't narrow it down very much.

"You could come with me."

Sunset tried — and largely failed — to stifle a gasp of surprise as she whirled around to see someone standing at her side, about six feet away from her.

She was a tall woman, taller than Sunset herself, about Pyrrha's height or maybe even a little taller, wearing ornate armour of blood red and black, lamellar in nature, with segmented vambraces and pauldrons covering her arms and shoulders, and a patterned cuirass decorated with … it was hard for Sunset to make out exactly what the decoration was supposed to be. It was like an optical illusion, that looked at one moment like a storm of feathers, and the next managed to like blood spattered over a black background.

Her armour, and her high boots, left only her face and a little of her upper thighs visible, but that was enough to reveal a fair complexion and a face that still retained a youthful aspect, even as the lines of middle age began to encroach upon it.

Though there was little youthful about her eyes. The woman's eyes were red, a little like Yang's eyes when she became angry, except that Yang's eyes, when they turned red, seemed to possess an inner fire behind them. This woman's eyes were the cold red of shed blood, ebbing out of a dying man. All the youth that remained upon her face seemed banished from those eyes. Tangled necklaces of crimson beads hung from her neck, and she had one hand resting upon the hilt of a large sword that she wore on her hip.

Sunset shuffled backwards a step, one hand beginning to glow green with magic.

The woman, whoever she was, raised the hand that she was not keeping on her sword. "If I'd come here to pick a fight with you, I wouldn't have startled you with a word; I would have cut you down while you were lost in thoughts."

"Who are you?" Sunset asked. "What do you want with me? What do you mean, come with you?"

"That last one's quite obvious, don't you think?" the woman asked. "As for the first question, my name is Raven. Raven Branwen." She smirked. "Perhaps you've heard of me?"

Sunset blinked. "Ra—… you're Yang's mother?"

"Summer Rose is Yang's mother," Raven said. "I just delivered her, in every sense."

"That's…" Sunset trailed off, because as much as it sounded harsh and cold, it was, at the same time, fair enough. As much as the instinct was towards revulsion, it was arguably a healthier attitude to take than to abandon her daughter but then turn up years later seeking to assert some kind of maternal rights over Yang, in defiance of the fact that she had left her to be raised by someone else. It was better, arguably, to say that Summer Rose was Yang's mother; it was certainly true to say that.

Sunset had never wondered who had delivered her, in every sense. The question had never really entered into her mind. She was aware that she must have been delivered by someone, some mare had made her with the help of some stallion, someone had left her on the steps of the palace, but Sunset had never really asked who they were. There had been another mare in her class, Rosemary, a gifted girl from an orphanage in Canterlot; she had been obsessed with her parents, to the extent it had started to interfere with her grades, she was always doodling pictures of her and her mom in the margins of her homework. Sunset had found it bizarre at the time, and to a great extent, she still found it bizarre. Her mom, if she was still alive, had left her behind. She had dumped her in that orphanage; forget the question of why she would come back for her daughter, the question was why you would even want her to.

Sunset had always been free of such questions, such daydreams. Such cares had never troubled her.

If Raven and Yang could both have come to similar such positions, it would have been for the best for both of them.

Although, if Raven really ceded all rights and relations with Yang, that didn't explain why she'd shown up during the break when Sunset had been in Alba Longa.

And it certainly didn't explain what she was doing here now.

"Yang," Sunset said, "isn't here."

"Obviously," Raven said flatly. "I'm here to talk to you."

"Really?" Sunset muttered, shifting her hand from the strap of her rifle down to her hip. "About what, exactly?"

Raven rolled her eyes. "About the fact that you've just been kicked out of Beacon, to all intents and purposes—"

"How do you know—?"

"I know," Raven declared. "I know that Ruby Rose, every bit as righteous as her mother but without, it seems, so much of her compassion, has disowned you. I know that you won't be welcomed back into your team any time soon. And, whether or not Ozpin would take your side or Ruby's side, it's clear that you've decided to leave the school. Just like it's clear from the way you were standing there woolgathering that you have no idea where to go next. So, I'm offering you a place to go, a place to stay, with me and my tribe."

"You and your bandit tribe, you mean," Sunset said. "You and your tribe of cutthroats and desperadoes?"

"Don't talk like you're any better than I am," Raven said, her voice sharpening. Her heels clicked on the stone as she walked a few steps closer to Sunset. "We both know what you are, and more importantly, we both know that if you weren't a murderer, Ruby wouldn't have kicked you out, and you wouldn't be slinking off in the middle of the night."

"I did—"

"What was necessary, I know," Raven said. "You did what had to be done, for the good of the group. Unlike Summer's girl, I don't see any shame in that."

That doesn't exactly take away my shame, to be honest with you, Sunset thought.

"You have my sympathies, for the position you're in," Raven went on. "I know, I might be the only person in Remnant who really understands what you're going through right now. I know very well what it's like to love those who are so much—"

"Better than you?" Sunset suggested.

She had meant it as a barb, thinking to prick Raven, to get under her skin, even though there was little rational reason for wanting to get under her skin, just a vague irritation at her presence, even at the sympathy that she professed to offer. But, instead of growing irritated by her words, Raven seemed to become … sad. The corners of her mouth turned down, and her head bowed for a moment.

"Yes," she whispered. "Better than me." She looked at Sunset. "I know what it's like to love them, and I know what it's like to feel as though the very things that make them better than you are what will eventually, inevitably, destroy them. And you're right. It will destroy Ruby in the end, just as it did her mother." She paused for a moment. "I know what it's like to try and protect them anyway, just as I know what it's like when that divide between you and them, between their virtues and your … when it finally becomes an unbridgeable chasm, and you can't reach them … and they lose interest in reaching you."

Is that what happened? Or is that what you tell yourself happened?

"Yes," Raven said. "I was a lot like you when I was younger. Of course, I didn't have your … gifts. But, because I understand what it's like, because I understand what you're going through better than anyone else, I'd like to offer you an answer to the dilemma that you were pondering earlier."

"You want me to become a bandit," Sunset said flatly. "Working for you."

"And for yourself," Raven replied. "You'd get your share of the spoils—"

"And do my share of the killing, too?" Sunset asked. She went on before Raven could respond. "Yes, I caused some deaths; I admit that, I'm not going to stand here and deny it, claim that I have any real right to a moral high … high ground. I caused the deaths of those people, and I have to live with the consequences of that, but I'll tell you this: I didn't do it so I could steal their stuff!"

Raven was silent for a moment. "No," she admitted. "No, I suppose you didn't. And, since we're being honest, I'm not going to stand here and pretend that what I'm offering you is some sort of wonderful life. I could talk about the marvellous community on offer, the sense of family, but—"

"But if it was all that, you wouldn't have left your daughter behind," Sunset murmured.

"Precisely," Raven agreed. "As I said to you, I knew that Tai, and Summer, would give Yang a better life than I could with the tribe."

"Did you…?" Sunset hesitated. "Did you know that they would—?"

"I can't see the future, if that's what you're asking," Raven replied. "But I knew that Summer liked him. The only one who didn't realise that was Tai himself; everyone else could see it plain as day. But she didn't have the guts to act on it when we were at school. She just stood there, supporting him, waiting ever so patiently for him to notice her, like a good girl should."

Raven chuckled. "She told me that she didn't blame me for making the move when she wouldn't or couldn't. Told me that she didn't hold me getting in her way against me. That didn't stop me feeling guilty about it. I … hoped that she would step in, once I was out of the way. That way, I could tell myself I was helping them too, not just myself."

She paused. "I wouldn't be here, offering this to you, if you had any better offers; there is camaraderie amongst the tribe, there is community, there is a bond we share … but there is also a lot of running from huntsmen and mercenaries hired to stamp us out, a lot of constant moving around, a lot of staying one step ahead of the authorities, and a lot of going hungry because the pickings are lean this season, and you can't find a target that you can pillage that you didn't already clear out the year before. Plus, if you're squeamish, the raiding and the pillaging itself can be off-putting.

"I won't pretend to you that this is a romantic life, living in the greenwood, robbing from the rich, letting the humble ploughman pass us by. The rich man might have bodyguards, you see, and the ploughman won't, so we're more likely to bother him because it's safe. I wouldn't be here offering my hand to you if you were still a student here, if you had anywhere else to go. But you don't have anywhere else to go, do you? You don't have anyone offering you a hand but me. I could use you, and you need a home, though it be a bad home compared to the ones you've known, it beats being all alone in the world, don't you think?"

"Is that what you told yourself when you went back?" asked Sunset. "That it beat being all alone in the world?"

"Yes," Raven said simply. "That's what I told myself."

"And you may be right," Sunset admitted. "No doubt, the world is a cold place for the lonely, a fact I may discover to be even more true than I thought I knew before. I may be robbed of all my possessions by a pickpocket to rub my face in the fact that my cushy life is over; I may have to fight with orphans over mouldy food from a garbage can. I may descend into such ignominies as I can scarcely imagine but which will be the terror of me. But, though such fates stand before me, I fancy that I am not yet descended to the point where I consider turning bandit. One must have some standards after all." And goodness knows what Princess Celestia would say if I were to turn brigand. I can scarcely imagine it.

Actually, no, I can imagine it quite well; I just don't want to.

I fear that her reproach would be less gentle than she has been wont to address me of late. And I would deserve it too.


"And you," she added, "should be grateful for my refusal."

Raven smirked. "And why is that? Because in two months you would usurp leadership of the tribe from me and cut off my head?"

Sunset shook her head. "No," she said. "No, I am not so … I am not minded even to attempt such a thing anymore, and I would probably fail at it if I tried; I was never as good at that sort of thing as I thought I was. No, you should be grateful because … imagine that I joined your tribe, and then imagine the day came when your tribe found itself being opposed by Pyrrha, or Ruby, or my Atlesian friends. In such a circumstance, which side do you think I would be on?"

Raven's eyebrows rose. "You would still side with them? They have betrayed you, banished you, turned their backs on you, and still, you would take their side?"

"Always," Sunset said.

Raven was silent for a moment. Then she nodded, the corner of her lips curling upwards into a slight but noticeable smile. "You will find, as you say, that the world is a cold and lonely place," she declared. "And yet, I cannot help but admire your attitude. I hope the coldness and the loneliness doesn't wear it away." She bowed her head, if only ever so slightly. "Since you're leaving this place, I doubt that I shall see you again, but you have … my thanks, for taking care of Summer's daughter."

Sunset could not keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Ruby doesn't appreciate it very much." Nor should she, in truth; not according to her lights, at least.

"Maybe not," Raven said. "But I'm not Ruby, am I? Good luck to you, Sunset Shimmer, wherever the wind takes you."

She turned away and began to walk off, back straight, her long and wild black hair swaying and bouncing a little behind her as she walked into the darkness and the shadows.

Sunset kept an eye on her for a moment, but she was walking quickly, and Sunset soon lost her in the dark; she would have expected that all of that red she was wearing would have enabled Sunset to track her a little better, at least at first, but she blended so well into the darkness that it was as though she had just disappeared completely.

Not that it mattered; it was as she had said: if she meant Sunset harm, then why spend so much time talking to her beforehand? It made no sense, therefore, the only explanation that made sense was that she meant Sunset no harm.

She had really wanted to extend a hand to Sunset, however strange it might seem.

She really had wanted to offer Sunset a place amongst her bandit tribe.

If that's the standard of offers that I'm going to get now, I think that's a pretty good indicator of how far I've fallen.

Still, in rejecting it, I have made a decision. I have decided that there are two places where I am not going next: to Equestria, and to a bandit tribe.

Maybe if I stand here 'til morning, I can eliminate my way towards working out where I actually want to go next.

Probably not; morning is too close at hand now.

Where do I go from here?


"Sunset!"

Sunset's ears pricked up first, then she turned around at the sound of Pyrrha's voice, slicing through the darkness as smoothly as Miló ever sliced through anything. She turned, and she saw Pyrrha herself coming — not only coming, but running — towards her, her sash flying out behind her as she ran. Amber was with her, following just a step behind, still wearing the dress and cape that she had borrowed from Pyrrha for the carnival, and the borrowed cape, too, trailed out after.

Sunset began to smile at the sight of them, before she remembered that Pyrrha no doubt despised her as much as Ruby did by now, and Amber … it was hard to believe that Amber, gentle Amber of all people, would not feel the same way, unless it was because she did not understand what Sunset had done.

"Pyrrha?" she murmured, wondering why Pyrrha and Amber were here. Her heartbeat quickened a little with anxiety, wondering if Pyrrha had come specifically to tell her what she had not had the chance to tell her in the dorm room. Had Pyrrha decided that she didn't deserve the chance to slink away quietly?

She hoped it was not that; for Ruby to cast her out was bad enough, but to get the same treatment from Pyrrha…

Sunset felt her hands begin to tremble at the prospect.

Pyrrha, and Amber, came to a stop in front of Sunset. Pyrrha, Sunset saw, had a bag in her hand, a grey Beacon rucksack that she held by the shoulder straps.

Pyrrha's sash settled down by her side, and Amber's cape fell down her back.

"Sunset," Pyrrha murmured.

Sunset swallowed. "Pyrrha," she said softly.

Pyrrha looked at her for a moment, and then a moment more, moments stretching out in silence, before she let out a little gasp as though she had forgotten something. She hastily held out the rucksack. "You forgot your book. Your journal."

"My journal!" Sunset cried, seizing the rucksack from out of Pyrrha's unresisting hands. She opened it up, to find the magic book sitting within, the only thing sitting within, but that one thing was enough. It was quite enough.

Enough to brighten Sunset's face as she said, "Thank you, Pyrrha, I … I could not bear to leave this behind."

Though it will enable me to tell Princess Celestia that I have been exposed and disgraced, nevertheless, I am glad to have it with me.

"It's nothing," Pyrrha murmured. "Ruby thought that you should have it."

"Oh, of course she did," Sunset said. "That … that was very thoughtful of her." She looked away, turning her eyes towards the ground, unable to meet Pyrrha's eyes, unable to look upon her face.

Pyrrha, for her part, said nothing more. Sunset could not blame her for that; what was she meant to say? What could she say, now, to the likes of Sunset? What Sunset had done, what Pyrrha now knew that Sunset had done, it raised a wall between them, a wall that no words, however eloquently spoken, could surmount.

"You're leaving, then?" Amber asked. "You're really going?"

Sunset swallowed again and ventured to raise her head enough to look on Amber as she replied. "Yes, I am. I doubt that Ruby — or anyone else," she added, "—wishes my company any longer."

"That is…" Pyrrha began, but trailed off and did not finish the thought.

"Why should Ruby get to decide that?" Amber demanded. "Who is she, that she should be so cruel? Surely Ozpin—"

"I'm not going to go to Professor Ozpin and ask him to keep me on against Ruby's will," Sunset replied. "That would be cruel indeed."

"But there must be something you can do?" Amber cried. "I mean … Blake's leaving, isn't she, she's going to Atlas? So you could join—"

"I think that Ruby would have as little love for the idea of me joining Team Iron as she would for my remaining a part of Team Sapphire," Sunset said. "I think … I think that only my departure from Beacon, bag and baggage, will satisfy her, and that alone only because … there is no other punishment that may be inflicted upon me. Anything else would likely drive her from Beacon, and … others besides. I could not do that. I will not do that."

Amber frowned, accentuating the scars upon her face. "It seems so unfair."

"'Unfair'?" Sunset repeated. "Hardly. I have deserved worse than this."

"You saved me," Amber said. "You saved my life, you brought Dove back to me, and whatever it was that you did … you were only trying to save your friends."

"And people died because of it," Sunset said.

"People die all the time," Amber said. "Death is … it's all around us, from the trees in the forest, the rabbit killed by the fox, the fox killed by the hunter, the hunter mauled by the bear … there's so much death that if you wept for all of it. you would run dry as a wrung out cloth before day's end. So all you can really do is care for the ones you love as best you can. At least, that's what my mother used to say."

"A fine thing for a mother to say, but I fear that Ruby feels a huntress should set their sights a little higher," Sunset murmured. "And she is right."

"Mmm," Pyrrha murmured too. "And…"

Sunset did not ask her to finish.

"Pyrrha," Amber said. "Do you really … are you really going to let this happen? Are you really going to just let Sunset leave, to let Ruby send her away?"

"I wish you would not speak thus, Amber," Pyrrha said. "As though Ruby were the one in the wrong."

"She's sending my friend away; she is in the wrong," said Amber. "Although…"

Sunset frowned a little. "'Although'?"

"It doesn't matter," Amber said quickly, with a shake of her head.

"As you say," Sunset whispered. She looked at Pyrrha, she forced herself to look at Pyrrha, Pyrrha whom she would soon be parted from, Pyrrha who might hate her now, Pyrrha whom Sunset would loathe to leave behind, and yet … and yet must leave.

She must go.

I may not be a hero, but the heroic theme yet applies it seems. I must go also, unwilling though I am, though it is not to death but only exile that I go. Yet go I must.

But there are things that I must say before I go, however hard it is to say them.


Not things that she wanted to say, things that she had to say, before she left, things about what Cinder had told them, things about what was or might be going on in Vale.

"Pyrrha—"

Pyrrha held up one hand to forestall her. "If I may," she said ever so softly.

Sunset hesitated for a second. "Of course."

Pyrrha did not speak immediately. She glanced downwards towards her own feet, then back up again. "I … I do not — I cannot — condone what you did, down in that tunnel," she said. "I … we are called to the shepherds of the people, to care for them—"

"Does not the shepherd kill the lambs whenever he grows hungry?" Amber asked.

"Ye— that … that isn't the point," Pyrrha said quickly. "The point is, Amber, I say this with love, but this is hard enough without interruptions. I know that you wish to defend Sunset in this, although a part of me wishes that you would not defend her in so … lively a fashion, but please, if I may?"

"I'm sorry," Amber said. "I just—"

"I know," Pyrrha murmured. "Sunset has your love, and you would not be parted from her after this fashion." She paused a moment. "I thought to find you here," she said. "But I did not think to find you without Soteria."

"I did not think I had the right to take it," Sunset replied. "It was given to me by Lady Nikos for a purpose, and I can hardly fulfil that purpose now."

"I see," Pyrrha said. Again, she took pause a moment. "I cannot approve of what you did, for all that you did it in part for my sake. I am not worth a city, not worth six other lives, no, I am not worth a single life given in sacrifice for my own."

"I must confess I fear a world without you in it would be a grim, grey, miserable place," Sunset said.

Pyrrha's mouth lingered open a second, as her cheeks flushed somewhat. "That," she said, "is very sweetly said, and yet, for all its sweetness, of very little consequence." Her brow furrowed beneath her circlet. "I must confess that there have been times when I feared that you were too much of Cinder's hot blood, and in this respect, I am sad to have been proven right. Is it right that you should be so attached to me, or any other, that you would do such things for our sake?"

"No," Sunset accepted. "No, it is not, and yet … it is who I am, for good or, yes, for ill. And yet … I would not sound apologetic, I … I should have found another way."

"And if there was no other way?" Pyrrha asked.

"I would have found one," Sunset insisted. "Had I but thought to look and not let the situation overbear my wits."

"And if you had sought, and found another way not?" Pyrrha pressed. "What then?"

"What then indeed," Sunset replied. "What then, Pyrrha? Would you have had us make a glorious last stand, worthy of remembrance?"

"The time may come when that is all that we may do," said Pyrrha. "And we should not fear that moment so much that we will dishonour ourselves and do deeds black as this night to avoid it." She closed her eyes. "And yet…" She opened her eyes once more. "Have you considered that, if you were to wait, Ruby might—?"

"No," Sunset said. "No, she will not; you know that she will not, not in this." She hesitated. "And … and you?"

"And I," Pyrrha began, "I … regret that we must part thus. Greatly, I confess, do I regret it, for all I understand why it must, and even should, be so. Yet greatly do I regret it, for you … for you have my love yet."

Sunset's eyes widened, even though a part of her felt they should have narrowed as before unexpectedly blinding sunlight yet still they widened in amazement nonetheless. "I … I have … even still?"

"Always, I think," Pyrrha answered. "If my heart be constant, and though it be fault in me or glory, it is a constant heart, or seems so."

Sunset felt her whole body tremble, as though a sudden weakness had come over her, as though it had been too long since she had eaten and the lack of sugar was catching up with her. "Pyrrha…" She wiped at her eye with one hand. "I do not deserve this."

"I could dispute that, I think, with all that you have done and all that we have been through together. But it matters not, for I offer this not from your deserving," Pyrrha said. "Rather I offer this from … from my constant heart only, only. Your deeds do not erase what we have shared." She paused a moment. "I … where will you go?"

"In truth," Sunset admitted, "I know not."

"You will not go … home, then?" asked Pyrrha.

"No," said Sunset at once. "No, I will not go home. I will not … I will not."

Pyrrha nodded. "Then … see my mother. She will be able to aid you, I have no doubt."

"She may," Sunset allowed. "But would she? I—"

"Have done little, I would suggest, that Mother would greatly disapprove of," Pyrrha said. "You will have her love yet also, or I guess false. And take Soteria with you; it is for my Mother to ask for it back, not for you to forsake the gift. You insult my mother else."

"Well, I should not wish to insult my lady; that would be unforgivable," Sunset muttered.

Pyrrha looked for a moment as though she might smile, for all that she had tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "I … I would have followed you," she said. "To whatever end, or the end of all things, I would have followed."

Sunset let out a little laugh. "I never wished to lead you to any end; that was my fault."

"And yet your virtue too," Pyrrha said. "And I would have followed nonetheless."

Sunset closed her eyes, even as she wiped at her face with one sleeve. "Pyrrha," she muttered. "Sweet words make a hard parting indeed." She frowned. "You must be on your guard. What Cinder said—"

"You cannot believe what Cinder said," Pyrrha answered, with a glance at Amber.

"Not entirely, no," Sunset allowed, "but I believe in the Siren in Vale, and I am willing to accept that Cinder may not have been Salem's only weapon here. Be on your guard, both of you, please, I beg of you."

"Of course," Pyrrha said. "I suppose we should consider the possibility. What of this Siren?"

"I hope Professor Ozpin will start to search for her," Sunset said. "If he does not, prod him about it." She looked at Amber. "Since I probably won't see you again, I can offend you by asking you to look like a friend upon Professor Ozpin; he is no just target for your rancour."

Amber hesitated a moment. "I … I'll think about it."

"Please, do," Sunset begged. "For my sake, if no other. But, whether you take my advice on that or no … I wish you good fortune, wherever your road or … your road or Professor Ozpin's decisions take you. I wish you every happiness with Dove, especially. Love is … love is a thing that should endure."

"I know it is, and I hope it will," Amber said. "Thank you, Sunset, I … I would wish you luck too, but I do not know your plans."

"Neither do I," Sunset said. "So … just wish me luck generally."

Amber smiled. "Alright. Good luck, Sunset. Wherever and whatever."

Sunset nodded before she returned her attention back to Pyrrha. What could she say to her? She felt free now to say something, as free as Pyrrha had been with her own feelings, but what? What could she say to encompass all that she felt?

"I should have liked to have led you, also," Sunset said. "I am sorry that I have let you down thus."

"Don't," Pyrrha whispered. "Don't … not now. Speak—"

"Only good things?" Sunset asked. "Are we not beyond that?"

"Unfortunately, yes, but even so," Pyrrha said. "Is this not a sad moment enough without our dwelling in sorrow here at the end? I … I wish you good fortune in all your endeavours."

"And I wish you every happiness," said Sunset. "I … you may not like this, but when you and Jaune are wed, I expect full coverage in all the magazines. I would see the gown that I will not see in person."

"Very well," Pyrrha said. "I will endure it, for your sake."

"Thank you," Sunset said. She paused a moment.

"In … in Equestria," she went on, "to bear the title of princess denotes not blood but … something of accomplishment, grace, virtue, worthy of the highest admiration." She took a breath. "You, too, are my princess."

Pyrrha was silent a moment, eyes fixed on Sunset, saying nothing.

Then she pulled Sunset into an embrace, one hand around her waist, drawing her in, holding her close, the other upon the back of Sunset's head, Pyrrha's fingers amongst Sunset's hair as she pressed Sunset's head against her cheek.

Sunset could feel that cheek against her temple, feel Pyrrha's arm about her waist, feel the warmth of her embrace. It was not something that she wished to leave.

"I will miss you," Pyrrha said, her voice trembling. "I will miss you terribly. Friend of my soul."

Sunset said nothing. She simply lingered in Pyrrha's embrace. She did not even embrace Pyrrha in turn, her hands were holding onto the Beacon rucksack, and her arms were pinned in place by Pyrrha; she was like a child, receiving comfort without giving in return, being hugged without hugging back. And she lingered thus, feeling Pyrrha's strong arms, her gentle hands, her face on Sunset's head.

Tears welled up in Sunset's eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I ruined everything, and I'm so sorry."

"No more, Sunset, no more of that," Pyrrha whispered. "Say only that you will miss me too, and nothing more."

Sunset sniffed. "Need it be said?"

Pyrrha chuckled. "No," she said. "No, I suppose not." She released Sunset from her embrace — Sunset would not have minded if it had continued on a little longer — but kept her hands on Sunset's shoulders even as she stepped away.

"This has been…" she trailed off.

"Yes," Sunset agreed. "Yes, it has, hasn't it?"

"So where are you going to go?" asked Amber. "To see Pyrrha's mother?"

"Not now," Sunset replied. "It is late, and doubtless, my lady is abed; no, tonight I will … I will…"

A single urgent, but not continual, buzz from Sunset's scroll informed her that she had a message.

How fortuitous.

Pyrrha let her arms fall from Sunset's shoulders as Sunset slung the backpack with her journal in across one shoulder and got out her scroll.

"It appears," she said, "that I am going to see Skystar Aris. At least, she has asked to see me."

Pyrrha's brow furrowed. "Perhaps … I am not sure why."

"Neither am I," Sunset admitted. "This business puts her in the spotlight as much as me, and her mother and Councillor Emerald are … but I am not sure what she would want to say to me." She paused. "Still, I suppose I will find out soon enough when I go and see her." She straightened her back and wiped her eyes with one-gloved hand. "Fare you well, Pyrrha Nikos."

Pyrrha bowed her head. "Fare you well, Sunset Shimmer."
 
Chapter 63 - If It Was Me
If It Was Me


Pyrrha and Amber stood outside the Beacon garages, watching Sunset drive away on her ramshackle bike.

She had Soteria slung across her back alongside Sol Invictus, having gone back to retrieve the venerable weapon, and the Beacon-branded backpack, containing her magic book, sat over both weapons.

Sunset did not look back. As she drove away, onto whatever new path awaited her, she did not turn her head back in Pyrrha's direction.

Pyrrha did not begrudge her that. After all, they had already made their goodbyes, and after a certain point, one was merely dragging things out.

And yet, Pyrrha felt compelled to stay and watch her go.

As she watched Sunset disappear out of sight, trailed by the buzzing engine of her homemade motorcycle, Pyrrha felt Amber slip her hand into Pyrrha's.

"I'll probably never see her again," Amber murmured. "But then … I suppose there was always going to come a point where I never saw her again."

"Yes," Pyrrha said. "Although I know Sunset would not have objected if that had come later."

Amber looked at Pyrrha. "Do you think you'll ever see her again?"

"I know not for certain," Pyrrha said. "But I may." She could not resist a slight chuckle. "I may see her again so soon that it renders all this melodrama of our parting seem quite unnecessary frivolity."

"How do you mean?" asked Amber, frowning slightly.

"I mean that if Sunset does go to see my mother, as I have urged, then I can quite easily imagine a world in which Mother offers Sunset…" Pyrrha paused a moment, considering what, precisely, her mother might offer Sunset. The idea of a place in the household was a rather old-fashioned one, for non-domestics, and it was not clear what use Mother would have for a warrior in the normal state of affairs. As a bodyguard, perhaps, but she had never needed one before, and Mother would not insult Sunset by giving her a meaningless sinecure or pointless busywork. "My mother is a woman of wealth and influence in Mistral. Our name of Nikos could open many doors for Sunset there, and I have little doubt that she will offer to open them."

Pyrrha did not know how people in Vale, waking to the accusations against Sunset, would respond to them, but in Mistral, the support of the lady of the House of Nikos would count for something when set against anonymous slanders, or even Sunset's faunusness. With her mother's support, and after her good showings in the tournament, Sunset could probably find a place in the Imperial Guard if she so wished.

If she so wished. Pyrrha did not think that Sunset quite knew what she wished at this point.

But she need not live a lonely and circumscribed existence, if she wished it otherwise.

"So," Amber said softly. "Why … what Sunset did is so horrible that Ruby can't stand to be in the same school as her, but your mother will help Sunset find something to do now? I … I don't understand. Is what Sunset did bad or not?"

"Yes," Pyrrha replied. "Yes, Amber, it is, but—"

"But you don't hate Sunset for it, the way that Ruby does," said Amber.

"I am not sure I would say that Ruby hates Sunset," responded Pyrrha. "Rather…" She gathered her thoughts, marshalling them so that she could explain this in a way that made sense. "Six people died because of what Sunset did. Including our own fellow student Sky Lark. We … should not forget that. Ruby, certainly, does not forget that. I, for my part, I know that what Sunset did was wrong, and yet, that knowledge is not enough to erase the great affection that I have for her, the sorrow that I feel at our parting." She wiped at her cheek with one gloved hand, smearing the tears across her face. "Mine own affection is stronger than my sense of principle. Though I recognise the wrong, it does not smother what I already felt." Pyrrha paused. "But for Ruby, it is different. Ruby is not ruled by the passions of her heart as Sunset is and I can be. For Ruby, nothing matters more than to live as a huntress should, obedient to the code and values that guide and drive a huntress on: to live for others, not for oneself; to defend the helpless even to one's last breath."

"To live as a huntress should," Amber repeated. "Even if that costs her life."

"Precisely," Pyrrha said.

"And that is not what is in her heart?" asked Amber.

"I … when put like that, I suppose I must concede it is," admitted Pyrrha. "And yet, it feels less … I suppose that, given Sunset and I have both treated her as though she lacks sense, I can hardly complain at you suggesting that Ruby, too, is ruled by her heart, but in the present circumstances … she seems to be more in her senses than I feel. Did you not see how she…? She did not rage at Sunset, she did not yell or shout or scream—"

"Like Jaune did," murmured Amber.

Pyrrha looked down at her feet, clasping her hands together. "Yes," she whispered. "As Jaune did." Jaune had his cause for anger, that was certain; it made Pyrrha feel a little guilty that she was not angry herself. She could only hope that he would not hold her lack of fury against her. "Jaune has his reasons to be angry with Sunset. An old friend of his, Miranda Wells, she was not amongst the fallen, but a friend of hers was. Poor Miranda has not been the same because of it, and to find that Sunset was responsible … I do not blame him. I only hope that he does not…"

"And you?" Amber asked. "You don't blame Sunset?"

"What good would it do?" replied Pyrrha. "I am not sure it is even possible for any of us to blame Sunset more than she already blames herself. I think that Ruby feels the same way; that is why — as I was saying — she was not at all angry with Sunset—"

"She seemed cold to me," Amber said. "Cold and cruel and rather heartless."

"You do her wrong," Pyrrha said sharply. "You do her … gravely wrong. I thought you liked Ruby?"

"I like Ruby well enough," Amber said. "Or at least, I did. But … I like Sunset more. Sunset saved my life."

And cost others their lives, Pyrrha thought, and could not help but treacherously wonder if Sunset would have lifted a finger to save Amber if Professor Ozpin had not suggested the aura transfer.

Sunset would never have known about Amber were it not for Professor Ozpin's suggestion of the aura transfer.

But still, as a hypothetical…

I am sure that she would. Sunset … whatever Sunset did, she is not a monster. She made a mistake, driven by instinct and by love, but she is also not someone to simply ignore others because she can, or because it doesn't affect her.

She went to Councillor Aris — former Councillor Aris — precisely because she wanted to help, even though nobody would have known if she had not — and much trouble would have been avoided.

There is a certain irony there, that Sunset has been undone because in a generous moment of charity, she exposed her most ungenerous and least charitable moment.

But she would have helped Amber, had she known, I'm sure.


"Your heart is your own, of course," Pyrrha said softly. "But nevertheless, Ruby did what she thought was right, and as much as I hate to see Sunset go, to say goodbye, to part like this, nevertheless, I understand why Ruby sent her away. She was" — it was a hard thing for Pyrrha to say that it had been right for Ruby to do so; it felt so treacherous to someone who had done so much for her. But, nevertheless, it had to be said, for Ruby's sake — "right to say that Sunset did not display the virtues required of a huntress. And I do not believe that she took any pleasure in it. In fact, I believe it hurt her, for all that she hid it well. My point, — what was my point? — my point is that Ruby does not deserve censure for her actions or for the spirit in which she undertook them. She has acted as best she could in the circumstances."

"Assuming that the virtues of a huntress are the right ones," Amber said.

"For a huntress, they are so," Pyrrha interjected. "Older and wiser heads than ours have pronounced it to be thus, and who are we to question them, young as we are?" And that was why … that was why Sunset had to leave.

"Assuming that the virtues of a huntress are the right ones," Amber repeated, sounding very unconvinced, "Sunset did what she did for your sake, to save all of you, including Ruby, and for that, Ruby turns her away, says she doesn't know her, despises her? You say that she acted without cruelty, but was that not a cruel thing to say? Even if Ruby thought Sunset deserved that, it didn't mean that she had to say it or that Sunset had to hear it. And…"

"You think that Sunset did the right thing?" Pyrrha asked carefully, keeping her voice free of any judgement so that Amber would feel freer to speak her mind.

"Does not your mother feel that way?" asked Amber. "Isn't that why you told Sunset to go and see her? You say that Sunset did this horrible thing, this terrible thing, this thing that gave Ruby no choice but to turn her back upon Sunset, and then you send her to your mother who will help her with your name and your wealth? Surely, what Sunset did was wrong, or it was not?"

"There is a third choice, which is that not everyone agrees that what is wrong is wrong or vice versa," Pyrrha said. "Professor Ozpin would judge himself more leniently than you, or even I, and my mother will, I think, judge Sunset far less harshly than Ruby has."

"Why?"

"Because my mother is not a huntress, nor was she one, nor did she ever wish to be one," Pyrrha answered. "My mother is a patrician of Mistral to the bone, and she … she loves me, after her fashion, for all that we have had our … differences in the past. I think, I fear, I believe, I must admit that she will likely think the risk to Vale, or even the loss of life, to be of little consequence compared with my survival."

Amber was quiet for a moment. Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and Pyrrha was very much afeared that she was going to announce that she agreed with Pyrrha's mother, which Pyrrha would rather she kept to herself, if it was all the same to Amber. Even if she thought it, Pyrrha would rather not know that she thought it.

"So when you insist that what Sunset did was wrong," Amber said, "are you saying it because you believe it, or because you're afraid that actually you agree with your mother?"

"Amber!" Pyrrha cried. "How can you … that is … why would you even say something like that?"

"I'm sorry," said Amber. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't upset me," Pyrrha said stiffly, and with a little bruising audible in her voice. "I was just … surprised, that's all."

"I'm still sorry," Amber insisted. "It's just that…" She looked away, and with one hand, she gripped at the hem of her light green cape, fussing with it, playing with it, tugging on it until the cape was halfway draped around her body like an old-fashioned toga. "You know, there have been times when I've been in awe of your bravery. Times when I've been astonished and amazed by how courageous you all were. Just tonight, when you faced Cinder the way you did, even though you could see how powerful she was, even though she could have killed you."

"It was nothing," Pyrrha said quietly.

"No," Amber said. "No, it was … it was everything, or it seemed like it was at the time; it was … and that's not the only time either, when I've thought about what you do, and what you're willing to do, and … I've felt like such a coward by comparison to you."

"If all men were brave, none could boast of their valour," Pyrrha said, citing the incontestable authority of The Mistraliad.

Her namesake, refusing to rebuke those warriors fleeing the battlefield, had gone on to add, 'And as I would be known as a most valiant prince, as the most valiant warrior who ever bore arms, I am glad that there are cowards yet, even amongst the great-hearted Danaians, that my courage may shine all the brighter by comparison.' Needless to say, Pyrrha did not quote that part.

Rather, she went on to say, "And now you do not feel the same way, I take it?"

"I still feel as though you are brave," Amber declared. "I could not deny the proof of it before my eyes tonight. But, at the same time, if this is courage, if this is valour, if this is what it means to be brave, then … then I am glad that I'm not brave and that I never pretended that I was. Jaune was there with you, wasn't he?"

Pyrrha felt with a creeping sense of dread stealing over her that she knew where this was leading. She nodded stiffly. "Y-yes," she admitted. "Yes, he was—"

"Aren't you glad that he survived?" Amber asked. "Aren't you glad that he lived on, with you, thanks to Sunset?"

"That," Pyrrha said, "is not the point."

"Is it not?" asked Amber, dubiously.

"No," Pyrrha said quickly. "No, it isn't." She closed her eyes for a moment. "I cannot say that I wish Jaune … I cannot say that I wish any harm on Jaune, you will not hear me say it, the words would stick in my throat if I tried, and my throat would rather let me choke upon them then let them pass my lips where anyone might hear them. It is not for me to put a worth upon Jaune's life, or Ruby's life, or the lives of Rainbow Dash or Blake or their friend Applejack. But at the same time, it is not for me, or Sunset, to say that any of our lives are worth the lives of anyone living in Vale today, still less a kingdom. That is not my choice to make, and it was not Sunset's choice to make either, for all that she made it nevertheless."

"But—"

"Please, Amber," Pyrrha half-cried, her voice becoming higher pitched and a little more shrill for all that it grew no louder. "Please … I do not wish to…" Now that Amber had spoken thus, her mind was filled with visions of Jaune's death: he reached out for her, and yet, she could not help him; he cried out in pain; he wept as they devoured him; he cursed Pyrrha for not keeping him safe, for not sending him away from danger but rather leading him into it; he died bravely, but all his bravery counted for nothing at the end as his blue eyes, empty and dead and devoid of the light that made them so wonderful to look upon, gazed upwards as they left his head for last. "I do not wish to think on this. I beg of you, have pity on me. These visions that you conjure with your words have sharp fangs."

"Alright," Amber said, her voice becoming ever so gentle, as gentle as the breeze that was lacking tonight, the air being so still and placid. Her voice was as gentle as her hands, as she reached out and took Pyrrha's hands in her own. "I didn't mean to upset you, I promise. I just wanted to understand, because this … it all seems so sudden to me."

"It is sudden to me too," Pyrrha said, with a sigh in her voice. "And you are still so new to us, and to all of this, that I suppose I can't blame you for being confused. But all the same, there are some things that I would very much rather not think about." And yet, now that Amber had planted the thought, she could not banish them again so easily. "Jaune was … Jaune was on the train with me, yes, but Dove was in the city. Had fortune been less good to Dove, had fate decreed it otherwise, it might have been he, not his teammate Sky, who … counts that for nothing?"

"If things were different, I might think differently," Amber admitted. "But isn't that how it is with everyone?"

It took Pyrrha a moment to realise what Amber was saying. "No," she murmured. "No, I don't think they do. Not all. Not Ruby, certainly."

"You mean she always thinks the same thing, regardless of what's going on."

"I mean that she is driven by the good of the people above all else," Pyrrha said. "Above kingdom, or love, or … all else."

"And is that … good?"

"It is very rare," Pyrrha answered. "And, being exceedingly rare, is probably very desirable."

"I do not desire it," Amber replied. "Ruby … her courage awes me, I must admit, but, at the same time, it terrifies me a little."

XxXxX​

"Ruby," Penny asked, raising one hand tentatively.

"You don't need to raise your hand, Penny," Ruby said, without looking at her. Ruby's eyes were fixed on the wall, where Sunset had been standing.

She had scarcely moved at all since Sunset left; even after Pyrrha had taken Sunset's book and left with Amber, she had still been standing there, looking at that wall.

Jaune wondered why that was; it was honestly starting to freak him out just a little bit.

Maybe … maybe Ruby wasn't holding it together as well as she was pretending to? Maybe she was afraid that if she moved, then she'd break? But why? Who was she pretending to hold it together for?

Maybe she just hadn't found a reason to move yet.

If that made sense.

"Oh, right," Penny said, softly lowering her hand. "But, still … why did you send Pyrrha out with Sunset's book? You could have caught up with Sunset much faster with your semblance."

"Because Pyrrha cares about Sunset," Ruby replied, her voice firm but soft at the same time. "Even still, she cares about Sunset, and she deserves the chance to say a proper goodbye if she wants to, without feeling rushed or ashamed or embarrassed by us being here. I don't want to see that. I don't ever want to see Sunset again, but if Pyrrha wants to get it all out, then that's fine with me. That's why I asked Pyrrha to do it, so that she didn't have to feel like she couldn't go after her, or feel bad because she did."

"Oh," Penny said. She hesitated. "I would have…"

Ruby turned her head ever so slightly, to look at Penny over her shoulder. "What?"

"Nothing," Penny said. "It doesn't matter."

You would have liked to say goodbye to Sunset too, huh? Jaune thought. I mean, you could just say so. Isn't that the lesson here, from what Ruby just said? That she doesn't mind if you still like Sunset, if you want to say goodbye to Sunset, if you still think of Sunset as your best friend, then that's all okay with Ruby, just so long as Sunset isn't here, and Ruby doesn't have to look at her.

So say something, Penny; just say that you want to go and say goodbye to Sunset as well, and Ruby won't stop you.


As for himself, Jaune wasn't interested in saying goodbye to Sunset. To be honest, he was a little more preoccupied in trying to work out how he felt about the fact that Pyrrha, as Ruby had said, still cared about Sunset.

Of course, before he could understand that, then he needed to work out how he felt about Sunset.

Sunset, who had gotten Miranda's friend killed and wounded Miranda.

Sunset, who had done that to save their lives.

What she'd done was wrong. There was no denying that, no arguing it, but at the same time … the alternative was pretty tough to imagine. When she had stood there, and talked about why she did it … yes, it had been easy to feel angry, to feel furious, to feel betrayed that their friend, their leader, someone they trusted had done something like that, had hurt his friend like that.

But then, when Ruby had challenged Sunset to speak in her own defence…

"I could not lose you. I … just couldn't lose you. You mean everything to me."

Put like that … it didn't make it right, for sure, but there was a reason why everyone — except Ruby — had kind of deflated at that moment, why Jaune had been certain that Penny had been about to reach out to Sunset, to touch her shoulder or hug her or something, only to be get scared off by … by Ruby's disapproval, probably, although it seemed as though she needn't have been — needn't be — so scared.

"I could not lose you."

Put like that, it was hard to be angry at Sunset, no matter the wrong that she had done.

"You mean everything to me."

It was possible to look at someone standing in front of you saying 'I did the wrong thing because I care about you' and reply that it was still the wrong thing.

It was harder, a lot harder, to hate them for doing it, no matter the consequences of their actions.

Yes, what Sunset did had been wrong, and it was awful what it had done to Miranda, but when you heard her explain…

When you thought about the consequences if she'd made the other choice…

"You mean everything to me."

Pyrrha meant everything to him too, and the thought of her being ripped apart by grimm … it wasn't something that he wanted to think about.

Just because Sunset had made the wrong choice didn't mean that he was saying it was easy to make the right choice, that's all he was saying.

So, although he didn't feel the need to say goodbye to Sunset himself, it wasn't because he was so disgusted with her that he couldn't look at her without wanting to do violence, and it didn't mean that he was going to get upset at Pyrrha if she wanted to speak to Sunset one last time. He knew how close they were.

And while Sunset deserved for Ruby to kick her out — probably — after what she'd done, she also deserved to get a chance to say a proper goodbye to her best friend.

It was just kind of a pity that it didn't seem like Penny had the nerve to ask for the same opportunity.

Jaune supposed he couldn't blame her too much, Ruby was being … kinda intimidating at the moment.

"So," Penny murmured, her voice trembling a little bit, "you're okay with the fact that Pyrrha doesn't hate Sunset, even though you do?"

"I don't hate Sunset, Penny," Ruby said.

"You said you despised her," Penny pointed out.

"Yeah," Ruby said softly. "Yeah, I know I did, but that … that doesn't mean I hate her. It doesn't mean that I … I know that a lot of things would have been a lot worse without Sunset around. We wouldn't have had Amber back, or we might have lost Pyrrha, or … there are some things that I just can't forgive, but that doesn't mean that I hate Sunset or that I expect everyone else to hate her either."

"I … I see," Penny murmured.

"I think," Blake said, "that you've been very kind, to Pyrrha at least. A little sneaky and underhanded, perhaps, but kind all the same."

"'Kind,'" Ruby repeated, her voice dull. "'Kind'? I … thanks, Blake. That wasn't something I was expecting to hear, but I appreciate it."

"You do realise," Rainbow said, "that when people find out that Sunset's gone, she's going to look guilty as sin?"

"Sunset is guilty," Ruby reminded her. "If she looks guilty because of what she's done, some would say that's a good thing."

Jaune frowned. "But what about Councillor Emerald, didn't you say—?"

"I'm not employed by Councillor Emerald to make him look good or to cover up his mistakes," Ruby declared. "I don't want to cause a panic, so I'm not going to go running around Vale telling everyone I can find the truth, but I'm not going to help him or Professor Ozpin bury the truth either, especially if it means that I have to choke on letting Sunset soil this place. I'm sure the First Councillor can find some way to make everything seem okay."

"That … that doesn't sound like something you say about someone you don't hate," Penny murmured.

Ruby was silent for a moment. "I've answered that already, Penny," she said softly. "I don't want to answer it again."

Penny bowed her head a little, and hunched her shoulders down, and cringed a bit. "Oh," she said. "Okay. I'm sorry."

Ruby sighed. "No, Penny, I'm sorry, it's … it's okay. I shouldn't have … it's been a long night, that's all, and this is … it's a lot for you, I know, but it isn't nothing for me either. All the same, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"It's fine," Penny said, in a very soft voice. She paused for a second. "So … who's going to lead Team Sapphire now?"

"I will," said Ruby. "Pyrrha doesn't have the strength to make the hard decisions, and Jaune…" Now, at last, she looked at Jaune. Her expression was not as apologetic as he might have expected. "No offence, Jaune," she said, "but—"

"Don't worry," Jaune told her. "I get it. I'm not exactly team leader material."

"Without meaning to suggest that you are not the right choice, Ruby," Ciel said, "it seems to me that this is a choice that should be made by Professor Ozpin, rather than treating the leadership of the team like a crown that you may pick up off the floor once you have knocked if off of Sunset's head."

Blake glanced at her. "Did you just suggest that the leadership of a team is more valuable than a crown?"

"You're right, Ciel," Ruby said. "I don't have the right to just make myself the leader. I guess that I probably don't have the right to send Sunset away either, but I had to do that, it was the least that she deserved and the least that I could stand. But as for who leads the team, you're right, that's Professor Ozpin's decision. I need to go and see Professor Ozpin anyway."

"To tell him what you have done?" asked Ciel.

"To find out why he kept this secret," Ruby replied. "He knew. That's what Sunset said, he knew what she'd done, he knew for almost as long as Councillor Emerald. The First Councillor is one thing, but Professor Ozpin? He's a huntsman, he is the huntsman, and yet, he let Sunset get away with betraying everything that a huntsman or huntress is supposed to stand for? He found out that she had spat on everything that a huntress is supposed to be, and he let her carry on attending this school, leading this team?" She glanced at Jaune. "Maybe Amber was right about him, Amber and you and Pyrrha. It certainly makes a lot of sense now why Sunset was always defending him. Of course she defended him; he'd defended her. They're all as bad as—" She cut herself off. "I need to talk to him," she said, her voice calmer again. "Now."

"Shouldn't we wait for Pyrrha to come back?" asked Penny. "I mean, don't we need to talk about what Cinder said to Pyrrha and … to Pyrrha?"

"You can say her name, Penny," Rainbow said. "Sunset. She didn't get erased like those unpersons in Mantle before the War."

"She's right," Ruby added. "You can say her name, if you want to. As for waiting, or what Cinder said … I'm sure Cinder said plenty. I'm not so sure that any of it was any use at all. She probably talked a lot about how wonderful she is and flattered Pyrrha and Sunset and … we don't need to hear all of that. We do — I do — need to talk to Professor Ozpin."

Penny nodded. "I understand," she said. "In that case … can I come with you?"

Jaune's eyebrows rose. Penny wanted to go with Ruby? Based on the way that she'd been acting, he wouldn't have expected that she wanted to spend any time alone with Ruby.

Ruby hesitated, maybe because she was surprised as well. "Okay," she said softly, after a moment had passed. "Okay, you can come with me. Let's…" She took a deep breath. "Let's go. I don't want to wait around."

She strode towards the door, leaving Penny to follow behind her as quickly as she could. Ruby flung the door open and walked out into the corridor without another word. Penny lingered in the doorway for a second, giving a half-hearted-looking wave to everyone that was still in the room, before she followed Ruby out.

As the door closed, it was as though Ruby and Penny had taken all the sound in the dorm room with them too, because it was silent — dead silent, if that wasn't something too unfortunate to think about — in their absence.

Rainbow Dash looked down the line of Twilight, Ciel, and Blake. "We should probably be going too," she said. "Unless there's anything else?"

"No," Jaune said, with a shake of his head. "I'm sure you've got a lot to talk about, and think about."

"You could say that," Ciel murmured. "Blake, will you indulge us by—?"

"I'll come with you, of course," Blake said. "I don't know where Yang is, but I don't want to disturb Ren and Nora. I might crash on the floor of your room, if that's okay?"

"The floor?" Rainbow repeated. "Take Penny's bed; I'm sure she won't mind." Rainbow nodded in Jaune's direction. "Goodnight, Jaune, Dove."

Dove didn't say anything, just as he hadn't said anything all night, a fact that Jaune was only now realising. So much had happened that Dove's silence had allowed him to fade into the background, but now, with the room a lot emptier than it had been, Jaune was starting to notice him again.

And to notice that he hadn't said a word.

The Atlesians — and Blake, if that needed to be clarified — trooped out of the room, and Dove's quiet was even more noticeable now that Jaune was alone with him.

He still didn't say anything. He didn't even look at Jaune; his focus was on the camp bed that Sunset had been sleeping on, having given up her bed to Amber.

"If nobody's using that," Dove said, pointing at the camp bed, "would you all mind if I crashed here tonight? Lyra's probably in bed by now, and I don't want to disturb her by crashing into their room — our room. And if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not leave Amber … I'd rather not leave Amber."

"Uh," Jaune stumbled over his words, caught by surprise that that was what Dove wanted to talk about, after what he'd heard. "I guess. I mean, we don't have a team leader to tell you no, so … sure." The only reason to say no to Dove was so that they could talk about stuff he didn't know about yet, like Salem, but since Ruby had dismissed the idea that Cinder had any intelligence worth listening to, Jaune guessed that that wasn't going to happen. In which case, reasons to kick Dove out were … nonexistant, as far as he could tell.

And if they needed to talk, then they could always ask him to give them some privacy.

It wasn't like he was going to be sleeping there permanently, after all.

"Thank you," Dove said. "If Ruby or Pyrrha has any objection—"

"Can I just say?" Jaune said, holding up one hand. "Can I just say that you're being really, kind of weirdly calm about all of this, considering… considering that Sunset is the reason Sky died?"

"Sky died because of the grimm and because he was a brave man," Dove declared, raising his head. "To say that it was all because of Sunset like that, it … it insults him and his memory."

"I didn't mean that; I just meant…" Jaune trailed off for a second. "I guess I'm surprised, is all."

Dove frowned and drummed his fingertips on the desk behind him. "I suppose," he glanced at Jaune. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Uh, sure, I guess," Jaune replied. "I mean … you're not going to tell me that you did something terrible as well, are you?"

Dove let out a strained laugh. Jaune supposed that it had been in pretty poor taste; he just didn't want to get burdened with that kind of secret, you know.

Dove paused for a second, before he said, "No. No, it isn't anything like that; it's just … there is someone that I blame for Sky's death, to be honest, and it isn't Sunset. Yes, Sky was brave, braver than he was skilled, to be perfectly honest with you, and I'm not going to deny him all the agency in his own … he made his choice, to fight for Vale, and I respect that. But it doesn't stop me blaming Bon Bon for what happened."

"'Bon Bon'?" Jaune repeated. "You … you blame Bon Bon?" He blamed Bon Bon? Jaune could hardly believe the words that he'd just heard come out of Dove's mouth, especially when coupled with the fact that he didn't blame Sunset, especially in light of what he — Dove — had just heard. "But … you're friends!"

"You and Sunset were friends," Dove pointed out. "Ruby and Sunset were friends, and now look."

"That is true," Jaune allowed, "but unless I missed something really big, you never called Bon Bon out in front of a crowd and told her that you'd never known her at all and you held her in contempt."

"And then said that I didn't hate her afterwards," Dove muttered.

"Let's … let's just leave that for a second, okay?" Jaune asked. "Let's stay on track. You blame Bon Bon?"

"She doesn't know it," Dove told him. "And I'd rather that she didn't find out — that's why I asked if you could keep a secret — but, yes, I blame Bon Bon for Sky's death."

Jaune frowned. "But … why?"

"Because she led us there," Dove declared. "She led us down to that square, where all the grimm came pouring out, and for what? At least Sunset had a reason for what she did."

"Yeah, she did," Jaune accepted. "But Bon Bon … had a reason too, right? I mean, she was trying to help?"

"Was she?"

"I don't know, wasn't she?" asked Jaune. "You were with her."

"Yes," Dove said softly. "Yes, I was with her. Me and Lyra and Sky were all with her. That's why I blame her, and that's why I can't forgive her and—"

"Why are you keeping this to yourself?" asked Jaune. "Or should I be asking why you're telling me?"

"I'm telling you so you understand why I don't seem as … affected by this as you expect," Dove said. "I mean, I'm sure that part of it has something to do with the fact that I don't know Sunset as well as you do, so I don't feel as betrayed." He paused. "Or perhaps it's the fact that Sunset brought Amber back to me, and there is nothing in the whole world she could do that would undo my gratitude for that. Does that sound terrible?"

"Honestly? No," Jaune said. "Maybe it ought to, I don't know, I'm not the smartest guy in this team, but I don't think so. She's the love of your life, right?"

The corners of Dove's mouth turned upwards. "Right," he agreed. "I'm glad you see it that way, seeing as you were the one who told me to make Amber my highest good and priority in the first place."

"Yeah, I did, didn't I?" Jaune replied, scratching the back of his head with one hand. "I mean, when I said that … it feels like there should probably be some limits."

"Do you know where those limits are?" asked Dove.

"Probably somewhere around a whole kingdom," murmured Jaune.

"'A whole kingdom,'" Dove repeated softly. He looked up, past Jaune and out the window. "How much do you know about the knights of Vale?" Dove asked. "Olivia, Percy, that kind of thing?"

"Not a lot," Jaune admitted, a little thrown by the change of subject. Perhaps Dove just didn't want to talk about the Breach anymore and was looking for a subject to take his mind off things. "Only what Ruby tells me. Why?"

"Olivia was the greatest of King Edward's paladins," Dove declared. "But her pride got herself and her followers killed. Percy was in love with Prince Tristan, and even though he was engaged to a princess from another kingdom, even though that marriage would seal an alliance that would bring peace and unite the kingdoms, still, they put their love ahead of everything, and war and tyranny resulted. Derfel, Owain, Nimue, I could go on and on … they were all heroes, mighty and brave and, for the most part, noble as well, but all of them erred. All of them had moments where they succumbed to their pride, or their desires, or their … or their fear. They all erred; they all fell."

Jaune's eyes narrowed. "I feel like there's a point here, but—"

"My point is," Dove said, "that if those legendary heroes could make such colossal mistakes with such huge consequences, great as they were … what chance do ordinary guys like us have, or even Sunset?"

Jaune's mouth worked without speaking for a second or two. "That," he said. "I mean, I get your point, and it's fair enough, but at the same time … what are you trying to say? They were still the wrong choices, just like Sunset made the wrong choice."

"I'm not sure what I'm trying to say," Dove admitted. "Except perhaps that I'm glad that I've given up on heroism. Certainly, I'm glad that I wasn't in that tunnel with you. All my envy of you, all my jealousy, that's all … all been driven out of me now. If it hadn't been already, it certainly would have been after hearing about what Sunset had to choose down there. Can I … can I burden you with another secret?"

"You're not sure that you wouldn't have done the same thing, are you?" Jaune asked.

"I think if Amber had been on the train, I would have absolutely done what Sunset did," Dove murmured.

"Because she means everything to you," Jaune whispered, although those who would object the most to hearing this were far away, and wouldn't hear them even if they shouted.

Dove nodded. "And … you?" he asked. "If you'd been in Sunset's position, and you had had to…"

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to; Jaune knew what he was asking: whether he would have had the … whether he would have been able, physically or morally or anything else, to condemn Pyrrha to death by his inaction.

He didn't even want to imagine it. They very thought made his skin crawl, and worse.

"I don't know," he admitted, in a voice even more quiet than it had been a moment before. "I'm afraid not."

"'Afraid'?" Dove repeated, in a whisper that seemed almost conspiratorial to Jaune. The fact that he took a couple of steps closer didn't make him seem any less conspiratorial. "Afraid that you'd choose the love of your life over—"

"Over a whole city full of people?" Jaune asked. "Kind of afraid, yeah."

"Like I said, that's why I'm glad that I gave up on heroism," said Dove. "I also gave up on having to feel guilty about choices like that. But remember what I said, even the greatest knights—"

"Made bad choices, right," said Jaune. But it doesn't make them good choices just because they were made by heroes. He changed the subject. "So, why don't you want Bon Bon to know that you—?"

"Hold her responsible?" Dove asked.

Jaune nodded. "I mean, I'll keep your secret, but I don't really get why."

"Because…" Dove trailed off. "I suppose," he went on, speaking slowly, as though he were only thinking a couple of words ahead, "that I don't want her to freeze me out of her decisions because she thinks, because she knows, that I won't be onboard with it, or with her. I suppose I want to know what she's thinking so that if she has another bad idea like the one that led us down to the Breach, I can be ready for it. And for that, I need her to trust me still, for a little while longer."

"That sounds … not good for a team," Jaune said. "And that's putting it mildly."

"But you won't say anything, will you?" asked Dove.

"No," Jaune replied. "No, I won't. I said that I wouldn't, and … it isn't good for the team, but I suppose that you won't be a team for very much longer anyway, will you?"

"No," Dove said softly. "No, we won't."

"And I guess Team Sapphire is hardly in a position to lecture anyone about what a functioning team looks like," Jaune went on. "So I'll keep your secret, for the little time left that it matters."

"Thank you," Dove murmured. "For the little time left that it matters before…"

"Before it's just you and Amber," Jaune said.

"Before it's just me and Amber," Dove repeated. "That is, if it isn't already."

XxXxX​

Rainbow Dash, Ciel, and Twilight were all silent until they got back to the Atlesian dorm room and the door was shut after them.

That was just fine by Blake. It gave her time to think on the way.

It gave her time to think about what she had just learned, of course, about what Sunset had done, about what would become of Team SAPR — or whatever their new name was — without Sunset, but it also gave her time to think about Rainbow Dash.

About the way in which she hadn't seemed very surprised when Ruby made her accusations against Sunset. Everyone else had been shocked, first because of what Ruby was saying and then again when Sunset confirmed that, no, it was all true. But Rainbow Dash hadn't seemed so shocked by any of it. In fact, she had leapt to Sunset's defence with a remarkable alacrity.

And Blake could not help but remember that Rainbow had been the second one to reach the front of the train. Sunset had teleported on ahead, and then Rainbow had followed on after, using her wings to fly through the tunnel to the front of the train while the rest of them fought their way down the roof the hard way.

You knew about this, didn't you?

You knew … and you said nothing.


Rainbow's silence both was and was not surprising to Blake; it was a little surprising, considering that most people seemed to feel that Sunset had crossed a line, considering how Ruby had reacted, how even Pyrrha had reacted, that Rainbow Dash — who was certainly not as close to Sunset as Pyrrha was — had agreed to condone the action by her silence. On the other hand, when one considered what kind of person Rainbow Dash was, as opposed to what kind of person Pyrrha was or certainly what kind of person Ruby was … then it became much, much easier to understand.

Just as Ruby had found it easy to believe that Sunset would have caused the Breach, once the idea had been planted in her mind, so, too, Blake found it easy to believe that Rainbow could have known what Sunset had done and decided to keep it to herself. Indeed, it was easier to imagine that than it was to imagine her doing anything else. Turning Sunset in, denouncing her, condemning her, casting her out as Ruby had done? No, that wasn't Rainbow's style.

I suppose that she did kind of do that to me when she found out about my past, although I ran away before she could get around to the official denouncing.

But Rainbow has … mellowed a lot since then, and I think that what happened between us is a large part of why she wouldn't do anything like that again.

So, in a way, that would make this my fault.

If, indeed, it is a fault.


That was on Blake's mind as well, because once she had decided, or at least come to a reasonably sure assumption, that Rainbow had covered up Sunset's action, then she had to decide if that constituted any sort of fault on Rainbow's part.

She supposed that, logically, she ought to start by asking if what Sunset had done constituted a fault in her eyes, according to her lights. Well, yes. Yes, was the answer to that, and a pretty easy answer too, considering that what Sunset had done had been to enable Adam's plan to risk an entire kingdom, and she had done so without the excuse that she was trying to strike a blow against monstrous evil.

No, she was just trying to save the ones she loved.

That doesn't make it okay.

No, but some might say that it makes it more sympathetic than doing it to make a political statement.

The characters in my trashy books might say that, sure, but there's a reason why I can refer to them as 'trash.'


Blake was not one to turn her nose up at an engaging page turner in which some soppy drip swooned, her bosom heaving and her heart aflutter, as some rugged and tormented soul committed a massacre on her behalf — there was nothing wrong with indulging harmless fantasies, after all, and there was something rather appealing about the idea of a love so strong it broke all bonds of morality — but that didn't mean that she wanted to become such a person, any more than her possession of a copy of A Mistralian Country Dungeon meant that she wanted Sun to break out the whips and chains.

It turned out that the problem with a love strong enough to break all bonds in real life was that it … broke all bonds, and you couldn't just forget the consequences by turning the page.

What Sunset had done … what Sunset had caused … what Sunset had put at risk … that was at once easy to believe and hard to comprehend.

And it was wrong. Ruby was right about that. The punishment that she had decreed seemed hard, but then the crime itself deserved a hard punishment. Their lives … they had been better as bones down in that tunnel than risked all of Vale.

And Rainbow had known about it.

Sunset had crossed a line, and Rainbow had known about it.

And in the knowing, it turned out, she joined a list that included the headmaster of Beacon Academy and the First Councillor of Vale. Which meant … one could say that it didn't change the morality of any of it, but one could also say that it was pretty harsh to say that Rainbow Dash had done something heinous when that same act had been committed by two of the most powerful men in the kingdom.

One might even call it downright racist, to blame the relatively powerless faunus for things that powerful men did with impunity, were Councillor Emerald not a faunus himself.

Then again, Sienna Khan would probably say that Councillor Emerald has deracinated himself, which would mean it could still be racist.

I probably shouldn't still be agreeing with … no, no, I can still agree with her on some things; she wasn't wrong about absolutely everything.

But I probably shouldn't agree with her when it comes to just declaring that faunus who don't toe the White Fang line aren't real faunus in some way or another; that would disqualify Rainbow Dash as well.

And anyway, it isn't the point. The point is … if Professor Ozpin and Councillor Emerald can know what Sunset did and keep it quiet, why can't Rainbow Dash? Why does she have obligations that they don't? Because Councillor Emerald isn't a huntress? But Professor Ozpin is a huntsman. If he thought that it ought to be kept quiet, why can't Rainbow do the same?

Because she isn't as powerful as Professor Ozpin, because she doesn't occupy his exalted position?

Surely, that puts more of an onus on him to act properly, rather than her.

And that's without even considering the possibility that Professor Ozpin and Councillor Emerald
and Rainbow Dash are right, and the whole business ought to have been kept quiet, and Ruby is the one in the wrong for shining a light on what was previously comfortably veiled in shadow.

That both was and was not a comfortable thought. Yes, things could live in the shadows; Blake had lived there for a time, and the faunus had been surviving there for years, but they had always craved the light, envied the light, been willing to fight and suffer and die to obtain the light. Nobody who dwelt in shadow loved it there, or even liked it.

Sunset probably wasn't enjoying keeping a secret like this.

But there were some things that could only live in shadow; the light destroyed them, or opened them up to destruction absent the protection of the dark.

Most of the examples of such things that Blake could think of were none too savoury, like the White Fang, but was it not possible that there might be things that could only live in darkness that nevertheless deserved life?

Possible, yes, but in this case? If we are talking of deserving of life—

We're not talking about Sunset's actions here; we're talking about the cover up. Yes, what Sunset did was wrong, but did it have to come out? Was Rainbow Dash obliged to drag it out into the light, any more than Professor Ozpin?

Was even Professor Ozpin obliged to drag it out?


"That was … unexpected," Twilight said, as the RSPT dorm room door shut behind them.

"Quite," Ciel said, in a clipped tone.

Twilight pushed her glasses up her nose, and sighed as she settled down on her bed. "I feel … sorry for her. Sunset, I mean."

"Because of her fate?" Ciel asked.

"No," Twilight said, shaking her head. "I mean, yes, kind of, actually … it must be awful to have that happen to you. To feel so much, to care so much, and then … to have all of that thrown back at you, to have backs turned on you. I can't imagine what that must have felt like."

"She is not some blameless victim in all of this," Ciel pointed out. "She bought it on herself."

"I know," Twilight admitted. "But … to think about what that must have been like for her, in the cab of that train, with that choice to make." She paused. "Of all the things that Cinder has done, I think that must be the most sadistic by a long way."

"She tried to kill you," Rainbow pointed out.

"Yes, she did," Twilight replied. "But … well, okay, that was kind of sadistic, but it wasn't like that. Giving Sunset a choice between her friends and the whole of Vale, what kind of … that's monstrous, don't you think? How is anyone supposed to make that kind of choice?"

Ciel's eyebrows rose.

Twilight glanced at her. "Don't look at me like that," she said, unapologetically. "Would you have really found it easy? Would you have just remembered a piece of holy scripture and that would have made it alright?"

"Considering that everyone involved is a heathen, I am unsure how helpful a strict reading of the holy writ would be in that situation," Ciel admitted, "but a less literal reading would remind me that all men are created by God in his own image."

"And that would have made it easy?" Twilight asked.

"To sacrifice Team Sapphire for the greater good? Yes," Ciel replied immediately. "And even Blake and Rainbow Dash also. No offence."

The corners of Blake's lips twitched upwards. "None taken."

Rainbow shrugged her shoulders.

"But if it had been Neon?" Twilight asked. "Or your family, or Penny?"

"You sound like an ethics question," Ciel said, her voice sharpening a little. "Next you will be asking me about a doctor trapped in a fire with my grandmother."

"And you sound like you're dodging the question," Twilight pointed out. "I'm not arguing that there isn't a right or wrong answer—"

"Are you not?"

"No," Twilight replied.

Blake wasn't sure whether she believed her wholly or not.

Twilight went on, "I'm just saying that it's not the easy decision that you're making it out to be. Applejack was on that train."

"And Applejack's life is worth so much?" asked Ciel. "It is worth Vale?"

"I don't know the people living in Vale," Twilight said, her own voice growing claws of its own to match Ciel's. "I know Apple Bloom and Granny Smith and Big Macintosh, and I'm glad I'm not the one who had to tell her that their sister and granddaughter wasn't coming home! Because she was buried in some tunnel in the middle of nowhere!" She leapt up off her bed. "There, I said it. Are you happy now?"

Ciel took a step back. Rainbow Dash, who had had her back to the pair of them, now turned around, although she didn't move any closer to Ciel.

"It … is a good thing that you are not a huntress," Ciel murmured.

"On that, we can agree," Twilight replied.

Ciel pursed her lips together. "And … and if it had been Applejack in the city, instead of on the train?"

Twilight began, "That—"

"Is a fair question," Rainbow said, softly spoken but cutting over Twilight nonetheless.

"Then what is the answer?" asked Ciel, courteously enough.

"Am I still on the train or is it someone else?" asked Rainbow.

"Does it matter?" replied Ciel.

"I think so, yeah," Rainbow said. "Because … so long as this other person, Sunset say, or anyone else, so long as they had done what we did, and gotten word back to the General that there was an attack coming, with time to set up like they had … that's job done. That was our job done: we were sent into Mountain Glenn on a reconnaissance and rescue mission, and we completed both objectives by the time we got Applejack out of that storage shed, and you and Penny were on your way back to Vale. Once the mission objectives were complete … once that person on the train had gotten word to us of the impending attack … I wouldn't have any grounds to object if they focussed on extracting themselves after that. I don't have the right to demand that anyone die for me and mine, I won't do it. I … won't demand that anyone … force that feeling onto someone else."

"And if Applejack had died regardless?" asked Ciel.

"Then that would be on me, not them," Rainbow said, her voice unshaking.

Ciel was silent for a moment. "And … of course, that answer presupposes that it was not you on the train, but Sunset still, or another. If it had been you on the train, regardless?"

"With hindsight, I wouldn't have gotten on the train in the first place," Rainbow said.

"That is not an answer."

"Okay then, the answer is that I wouldn't push the button, but I wouldn't stop anyone else from pushing it either," Rainbow said. "And I would trust the General, and in our comrades, and in our troops, to handle the situation, as they did. We only have one life to give, Ciel, so if you're going to give it, you'd better be sure there's nothing better you could do with it first."

"One can never know that for sure, so it is a recipe for never giving one's life on the grounds that some greater purpose for it might yet turn up," Ciel murmured. "Which I suspect might be the point, all things considered."

"The point," said Rainbow Dash, "is that sometimes, there is an hour to play and the last man in and then you have to play up and play the game, but otherwise … it's for a ribboned coat."

"Or the—"

"I wouldn't use that word," Rainbow said, before Ciel could go on. "But … you've got my answer; you can make what you like of it."

Ciel was silent for a moment. "I suppose," she said softly, "that I cannot accuse you of being inconstant in your convictions. And I must concede that you come by it honestly enough. There are times when lives have been thrown away pointlessly, for little purpose or reward, I do not deny it. I would not agree with your assessment of the situation, but … as I say, you come by it honestly."

"I wouldn't go so far as to agree with what Sunset did," Blake murmured, "but I understand, I think we can all understand, why she did it. Sunset loves them. I might even include myself and Rainbow Dash and say that she loves us too. She … Sunset loves too much, perhaps, but that doesn't change the fact that it's still love."

"That does not make her choice acceptable," Ciel said.

"No," Blake agreed, "but it does make it understandable. We all have people we love, people who are dear to us; perhaps they're in this room, perhaps they're somewhere else, but they exist. Faced with that choice … I would have left that trigger well alone, or at least, I'd like to think I would. But I won't sit here and tell you so righteously that it wouldn't have hurt me to do it. And for my part, I would have been very glad that I didn't have to be the one to break the bad news to Apple Bloom, or Scootaloo, or Pinkie, or Rarity for that matter. One of the advantages of dying myself down there, I suppose."

"Don't," Rainbow said, her voice dropping into the conversation with all the weight of the bombs that the Atlesians had dropped on the Breach. "Don't talk like that, don't joke about it, it's not funny. It's especially not funny coming from you." She pointed at Blake. "You've gotten a little better, but … it's still not funny."

"I feel as though I've gotten a lot better," Blake said, a tad defensively.

"Yes," Rainbow agreed. "Yes, you have, a whole lot. I don't worry about you the same way that I used to. It's still not funny, though."

"I'm sorry," Blake said softly.

"And as for all of the rest of this," — Rainbow waved her fingers in a circle to encompass them — "I stand by what I said in the Sapphire room: there's no way Cinder would have actually left the choice in Sunset's hands. If Sunset hadn't pulled the trigger, Cinder would have done it herself."

"But Sunset did pull the trigger," Ciel pointed out. "By her own admission."

"And because of that…" Rainbow trailed off for a second. "You can only sacrifice your life once. For the cause, for the kingdom, for the flag of Atlas, for the glory of the fleet, for the Lady of the North, whatever it is that moves you, you can still only do it once. Because, at the risk of stating the obvious, once you do, you're dead, and you can't do it again. Maybe … I guess, if you're going to go out, going out keeping a whole kingdom safe is a pretty way to go, if you think that you will keep that kingdom safe, because if not … there's at least a possibility that all Sunset would have done by her other choice is make the tally of the Breach twelve dead instead of six. And without Sunset, Amber dies. Without Blake and I, Leaf ends up stuck in that slave camp with everyone else, and Calliope Fearny continues on her merry way. Without Blake and I, Weiss and Flash have to try and stop the kidnappings in Low Town by herself, and maybe they don't manage it. You can't know, when you make a choice, how it's all going to turn out; you can't know for certain that it's all going to turn out for the best. You might sacrifice your life, full of zeal and passion and righteousness … and all that happens is that you break someone's heart."

Ciel pursed her lips together. "I … you have my sympathies, of course, but that is not a licence to endanger lives. Nor does it acknowledge the fact that, if Cinder detonated the mine—"

"So you admit that she would have?" asked Rainbow Dash, with an edge of triumph in her voice.

"So you admit that Sunset could have done the right thing with no consequence?" Ciel replied. "That train would have soared out of the tunnel, and Sunset would have had a clean conscience these past months."

"Are we really going to stand here and condemn Sunset?" Twilight asked. "We, of all people?"

Ciel blinked. "What do you mean, 'we of all people'?"

Rainbow frowned.

"I mean," Twilight began, but then paused afterwards. She glanced at Blake. "I…" She licked her lips. "Blake, I say this with no malice and a lot of love, but … we have forgiven you for a lot more."

"Twilight!" Rainbow squawked.

"Well … I said that I don't mean this as a slight against Blake or anything, but it's true, isn't it?" asked Twilight.

"Yes, it's true, but that doesn't mean that you should say it!" Rainbow cried. "Especially not to Blake's face!"

"Would it be preferable to say it behind her back?" asked Ciel dryly.

"No!" Rainbow snapped. "It—"

"Rainbow Dash," Blake murmured. "It's … you don't need to … Twilight has the right to say so." She paused, a sigh escaping from between her. "Honestly, it isn't something that I'd thought about myself, but now that Twilight has brought it up … at this point, I'd love to say something like 'the time that I've spent with you has been so wonderful, and so real, that my time spent with the White Fang seems like it was only a dream by comparison.' But that would be a lie; my time with the White Fang still feels real to me, and I think that it always will." She hesitated. "During the course of my time with the White Fang, as an operative, and a leader, I tried to minimise casualties: get in, get out, complete the objective with minimal fuss; a victory is the enemy never knowing we were there. Nevertheless, I … I took lives with my own hands, people died in missions that I led or took part in, and … well, you could counter Rainbow's consequentialist argument with one about the consequences of the things that I did, the repercussions—"

"You don't need to defend yourself," Rainbow said. "Not here, not to us, not ever to anyone." The corner of her lip rose up a little. "Don't make me go get your mother to give you a good talking to."

"Not funny," Blake said sharply. "But … thanks anyway." She drew a breath. "But Twilight asks why you can all forgive me, but you can't forgive Sunset, and now that she's asked the question … what's the answer?"

"The answer is that you did not spend the last year spying on us for the White Fang only to now tell us that your change of heart, feigned before, was in fact genuine," Ciel said. "You were a good person when we met you, and the fault was ours for not realising that sooner."

"Harsh," Rainbow said. "Are you saying that Sunset isn't a good person?"

"I am saying," Ciel replied, "that Sunset did not do this thing under a different flag, a different coat, a different … anything. Blake has left the White Fang, and we are all decided that she — that you — deserve a fresh start, with your deeds considered only as though you were a newborn. Or as though, as you said, your time with the White Fang was a mere dream, and only your time in our company has been real. But Sunset … it is harder to separate because she did the thing while she was here."

"So it's about timing?" Blake asked.

"Yes," Ciel said. "Or do you think I would be so forgiving if you had passed information from us on to the White Fang this year?"

"No," Blake said. "No, I don't think you would. That … thank you, Ciel, that makes me feel … a little better, for all that your argument doesn't entirely convince me—"

"Please don't tell me you heard an argument for forgiving Sunset and took from it that you shouldn't forgive yourself," Rainbow said.

"No," Blake said, "I didn't. I'm just … I'm not sure it's fair to say that Sunset betrayed anyone either, on that analogy."

"She has betrayed the values of a huntress, has she not?" asked Ciel.

"What are the values of a huntress, and why do they give anyone the right to decide who lives or who dies?" asked Twilight.

"Is that not what Sunset did?" replied Ciel.

"No, Sunset left the decision up to chance," Twilight declared. "In spite of what Sunset did, there was no guarantee that Rainbow, Blake, Applejack, or anyone else would have made it out of that battle alive. Out of the tunnel, yes—"

"Not even then," Rainbow pointed out. "There was a nasty grimm down there that was giving us some real trouble before Ruby's silver eyes went off."

"Yes, exactly," Twilight said. "Sunset didn't push a button, get everyone to safety but put six innocent people down in that tunnel instead; the fact that everyone survived is because of luck and fighting skill, and the fact that six people died is … very bad luck that a hole in the net opened up the way it did. I just don't think it's fair to talk to Sunset, or about Sunset, as though she chose to make this big sacrifice as though what she did determined anything. The only thing that Sunset did was refuse to take six lives, seven if you count her own. Personally, I don't see anything wrong with that."

"Sunset did not condemn any to death with malice aforethought, no, anymore than, admittedly, she saved the lives of those down in the tunnel," Ciel said. "In that sense, you are correct; some of the words flung at her have been … imprecise. But I will be precise then and say that Sunset endangered lives, out of carelessness but nevertheless, and I am quite comfortable in calling that wrong on her part. That may only rise to the level of Reckless Endangerment and Involuntary Manslaughter, but nevertheless, it is a crime. Or do we excuse the driver who did not mean to run somebody over? If the worst that has happened to Sunset is that she has suffered some harsh language, then she should think herself fortunate."

"And what will Team Sapphire suffer without Sunset?" demanded Rainbow Dash. "Kicking Sunset out isn't going to bring anybody back … but it might just put someone in the ground, and for what?"

"For … for the limits that there must be, if drawn at some extremes, or else…" Ciel paused. "Or else civilisation crumbles. We must accept constraints if our lives are to be anything more than nasty, brutish, and short, and there must be consequences if those constraints are breached. And Sunset has breached them. And having breached them, who can trust her not to breach them again? And what happens to a team without trust?"

But has Rainbow breached them? Blake wondered. Is keeping the secret that someone else did something the same as doing the thing?

Is keeping the same secret being kept by the First Councillor of Vale and the Headmaster of Beacon a breach of the constraints at all?

Probably not, actually. I mean, to accept Ciel's argument, the next question is, who is drawing the limits? Why, political leaders and civic authority figures, the very people who knew what Sunset did and decided it was best to keep quiet about it.

So, since they decided that there wasn't really anything to say, who am I to decide that there is anything to say about Rainbow Dash deciding that there was nothing to say?


Now, Blake could admit to herself that there was an element of motivated reasoning there — after all, she'd been willing to defy the decisions of elected officials and civic leaders when she thought they were wrong, but … she didn't think they were wrong.

She didn't want to think they were wrong.

She didn't think that they were wrong, and it wasn't just because of her friendship with Rainbow; it was also because Rainbow made a point: exiling Sunset wouldn't undo any of the damage she'd done; it just prevented her from helping in situations where she could help.

Situations where she might, as with the whole deal with Pyrrha and Amber, be the only one who could help.

Ruby might decide — had decided, evidently — that she could live with that, but Rainbow had chosen otherwise, and Blake wasn't going to condemn her for that choice.

Blake couldn't say whether she would have made the same decision in Rainbow's place. It wasn't something that she wanted to examine too closely.

Except that Rainbow's secret was safe with her, so, in a way, Blake supposed that actually her choice in that situation was pretty plain.

Considering that she'd just made it.

XxXxX​

"You know, you don't have to come with me, Penny," Ruby said, as the two of them made their way past the statue of the huntsman and huntress. Ruby stopped there for a moment, her head turning towards the statue, looking up at the huntsman with his sword, standing heroically above the snarling beowolf.

The epitome of what it meant to be a huntsman.

The embodiment of all that Sunset had betrayed.

Penny stopped too, and like Ruby, she looked up at the statue that loomed over them. "Are you … are you saying that you want me to go?" she asked.

"No," Ruby said quickly. "No, I'm not saying that, I'm just saying … that you don't have to come with, if you don't want to."

"But I do want to," Penny said, softly but firmly at the same time. "Why do you think there are two of them?"

"Huh?"

"The statue," Penny said, as she gestured towards it with one hand. "Why do you think there are two of them?"

Ruby stared at the statue for a moment, the huntsman with his sword, the huntress with her axe standing a little behind him, almost hidden in his shadow. She'd never really thought about it before, but the placement of it was kind of odd, the way that you didn't really notice the huntress at first. It wasn't that she hadn't realised that the huntress was there, but it was always the huntsman that drew the eye, and then after him, the beowolf beneath. You looked to the huntsman with his sword, with his heroic pose, with the way that he almost looked like he was stepping on the beowolf. You almost didn't notice the huntress at all, and when you did, it was just as someone who was … just there. Just standing there, with her axe; it sounded stupid to say that she looked like she was just hanging out, but that was almost what it looked like.

"I … I don't know," she admitted. "Because … because this is a school for huntsmen and huntresses, and the huntresses aren't supposed to feel left out?"

"I don't think that's why," Penny said. "I think it's because we're not supposed to be alone, because even the greatest hero needs someone to stand at their side, and watch their back, and just be there for them." She smiled. "I don't think you should be alone either, Ruby."

Ruby didn't feel much like smiling right now, but she made an effort anyway and managed to get a corner of one side of her mouth up just a little bit, which was … something. "Thanks, Penny," she murmured. "I appreciate that."

She turned away from the statue — and whatever it did or might represent — and resumed her journey towards the tower, drawn by the green lights that burned at the top.

Professor Ozpin would still be there, she was sure; he might still be with General Ironwood and Professor Goodwitch and Uncle Qrow, discussing Cinder and the attack on Vale that might come soon.

She didn't care if she did have company. They deserved to know what he had done, what kind of man he was. Maybe Pyrrha and Jaune had been right not to trust him, maybe—

Maybe Sunset had been right about that too, before Ozpin bought her loyalty with his silence.

How could you do such a thing? How could you tolerate knowing what she'd done?

If there was one thing that made Ruby hesitate about bringing up the subject in front of others, it was the fear that they — that Uncle Qrow especially — wouldn't care. That they would be as fine with keeping it a secret as Professor Ozpin had been. She would rather break up his whole inner circle than have that happen; she would rather that they turn away from him in disgust rather than nod sagely and agree that he had been right all along.

Except … except that that wouldn't be very good for Vale, would it?

Ruby frowned. She didn't want to think about that. Mostly because she knew that that particular thought was correct; Professor Ozpin was needed. Beacon needed him, Vale needed him, the fight against Salem needed him; he was their leader in the great war between life and death, light and darkness—

But he chose to shelter someone who had brought death to Vale.

Ruby didn't understand how he could do that, but at the same time … she didn't want to leave Vale exposed herself; if she brought down Professor Ozpin, if she left Beacon leaderless and Vale vulnerable to attack just so that she could feel better, then was she really any better than Sunset?

Yes! Yes, I am better than Sunset, I would never put anyone's life at risk just to save my own skin — or that of a friend.

But would I put anyone's life at risk so I could feel like the wicked had been punished and all's right with the world?


That was the point, wasn't it? If Ruby yelled out Ozpin's secret, what he had known about Sunset, and then General Ironwood turned away, or Professor Goodwitch, or Uncle Qrow, or all of them … then Vale might suffer. People might suffer. People might die because nobody was listening to Professor Ozpin, though he was the wisest man amongst them and knew what to do.

If he is so wise, then why didn't he do the right thing?

That was an uncomfortable question, and the only thing that was mitigating the discomfort at the moment was the hope that Professor Ozpin would have a good explanation for her, an explanation that would square the circle and offer up a rationale that didn't destroy her faith in the headmaster's righteousness.

She should probably let him give that explanation before she started running her mouth to other people.

No, she wouldn't accuse him in front of Uncle Qrow or the others. If they were there, then she would hang back and ask to speak to Professor Ozpin privately, and make clear that she wasn't leaving until she got her private conversation.

"What are you thinking?" asked Penny.

"I was just thinking about how I want to handle this," Ruby said. "How I want to approach Ozpin, what I want to say, and when and in front of who."

"Ozpin?" Penny repeated. "You mean Professor Ozpin?"

"Well, yeah," Ruby replied. "Who else would I mean?"

Penny frowned. "I've noticed that people only call him Ozpin when they don't like him very much. Like Amber. When people like him, they show him respect by calling him Professor Ozpin."

"That's … not always true," Ruby replied. "Sunset always called him Professor Ozpin."

"That's because Sunset was a proper young lady that way," Penny said. "Is, I mean, not was. Since she's not dead, after all."

No, just dead to me. "Is that why Pyrrha went back to calling him Professor Ozpin, do you think?" asked Ruby. "Because she got less mad at him, or because she's a proper young lady too?"

Penny considered that for a moment. "Could it be both?"

"Maybe," Ruby replied. She paused for a second. "I don't dislike Oz— Professor Ozpin yet. I'm just … disappointed, right now. That's why I'm giving him a chance to explain himself."

"You don't think he should have kept what Sunset did a secret," Penny said. It was a statement, not a question.

"No," Ruby agreed. "No, I don't."

"So what do you think he should have done instead?" asked Penny.

"I…" Ruby hesitated. "He should have done what I did, at least. I can see that maybe, or not even maybe, I suppose once he found out that Councillor Emerald knew and was keeping the whole thing a secret, then sure, I can accept that it would have been difficult to punish Sunset the way that she deserves, to reveal the truth about what she did, without causing trouble and maybe panicking people. But he should have still kicked Sunset out of Beacon; he should have told us the truth. I hope he has a good reason why he didn't."

"Punished the way she deserves?" Penny repeated. "What do you mean by that, Ruby? What punishment do you think that Sunset deserves?"

"A lot more than being kicked out of this school," Ruby declared, a touch of venom sneaking into her voice. "I'd like to … I'd like to break her sword in half and shave off all her hair and hang a sign around her neck telling everyone exactly what she'd done and make her march around Beacon so that everyone can read it and know what she did!"

"That sounds awful!" Penny protested.

"No, what Sunset did is awful!" Ruby cried. "What Sunset did, and what Professor Ozpin covered up, that's what's awful! What I said … even that would be justice, but it would be better than letting her walk away like I've had to."

Penny blinked. "I don't understand," she murmured. "You say that you don't hate Sunset, but then you say that you want to do all of that to her, but at the same time, you let Pyrrha say goodbye because you know how much Sunset means to her, and Pyrrha to Sunset, and it doesn't bother you that Pyrrha still feels that way. And you gave Sunset her book, when you could have destroyed it or kept it or … anything other than what you did. I … don't understand."

Ruby let out a kind of laugh, one in which bitterness mingled with weariness like eggs and flour in a cake batter, turning to a sort of mush in which neither of them was recognisable. "I guess it is pretty complicated, Penny. It's so complicated that I don't really know how to explain it to you. I guess…" She hesitated. "Maybe a part of me does hate Sunset. Hates her for lying to me, for pretending, for… a part of me that wishes that I'd never met her."

Penny stopped walking and was silent for a moment. "Do you want a hug?"

Ruby stopped too, looking back at Penny at first before she looked down. "No, Penny, that's okay."

"Oh," Penny said softly. "Alright."

Ruby hesitated. "Well, I mean … if you wouldn't mind."

Penny smiled and put her hands upon Ruby's shoulders to draw her in, then guiding Ruby's head until it was resting upon Penny's shoulder.

"It'll be alright, Ruby," she said. "I'm here for you."

"I know, Penny," Ruby said softly. "Thank you, for that." She paused. "I really didn't do any of what I've done because of how I feel. I meant that. It's not about me. It's about Sunset and about a measure of justice."

"I know that too," Penny assured her. "You've always done what you thought was right."

"And I hope I always will," Ruby said.

"Mm-hmm," Penny agreed. "You're such a strong person, Ruby, much stronger than I am."

"I don't know about that, Penny," said Ruby.

"I think you are," Penny murmured. "Can I tell you something?"

"You can tell me anything."

"And you won't be mad?"

Ruby blinked. "You're going to tell me that, if you'd been in Sunset's place, you couldn't have done it, or not done it, aren't you?"

"I don't know," Penny admitted. "I really don't know. You mean everything to me too. That's what I mean, when I say you're a stronger person than I am."

Or maybe it means that you're more human than I am, Penny, Ruby thought, because … because it was sometimes hard to remain sure that you were right when it seemed like everyone was insisting that you were wrong.

I am right. I am.

Penny ran her fingers through Ruby's short hair, ruffling it on the back of her head. "So do you know what you're going to say to Professor Ozpin?"

"I … I'm going to ask to speak to him alone," Ruby said. "And then I'm going to tell him that Sunset's gone, that I know everything, and then … I'm going to ask him why he did it."

And hope he has an answer that satisfies me.
 
Chapter 64 - Compromised
Compromised


Ozpin's office was dark. What light there was to illuminate the space was a sickly-looking fluorescent green, the lights that burned above — the lights that gave Beacon its name, if any did — leaking downwards through the windows to reach them here within.

Ozpin sat behind his desk, hands clasped together in front of him, elbows resting upon the transparent surface, half-masking his face from view. It combined with the lighting to give him a rather sinister aspect, although he didn't deserve it.

Much.

That was a hard thought, and Ironwood knew it, but he also knew that he didn't think that this business around Miss Shimmer was so easily dismissed as Oz and the First Councillor had made it out to be back in the police station. Yes, Miss Nikos had also been the victim of false accusations, but those accusations had been a lot vaguer than these ones, and based on nothing substantial besides.

The accusations against Miss Nikos had basically amounted to pointing out that she and Cinder Fall had occasionally been in somewhat proximity to one another and then saying 'what if there's something going on between them?' The accusations against Miss Shimmer were rather more concrete.

All Skystar Aris would have to do to put the whole thing to bed would be to say that she had never seen any such meeting as she had described between Miss Shimmer, First Councillor Emerald, and former First Councillor Aris. And perhaps she would do just that.

But then why make up such a specific accusation in the first place, if it could be so easily denied?

It didn't add up to him.

Just like it didn't add up why Ozpin was so quick to dismiss the whole thing.

Mind you, I covered for a former White Fang terrorist and now she's one of the people I trust the most, so who am I to talk?

Oz had his reasons for what he did, and Ironwood tried to remember that when he couldn't understand those reasons - or bring himself to agree with them.

Ironwood stood on Oz's left, with Glynda standing on the right, both a little ahead of him, facing his desk rather than standing around it.

None of them spoke. Ozpin seemed to be waiting for Qrow to join them, and neither Ironwood nor Glynda were kicking things off themselves.

Ironwood clasped his hands together behind his back and remained quite still. He glanced at Glynda, trying to discern in her eyes, in her expression, if she found Ozpin's behaviour over Miss Shimmer as odd as he did.

She gave him precious little to work with. Her face was a mask of professionalism, the kind of face that she used to mask her feelings from the students. He couldn't work out what she was thinking underneath the mask.

Just like he couldn't work out what was keeping Qrow; didn't he know that it was urgent?

The chiming of the elevator sounded louder than it should have done in the quiet chamber, a second before the door opened and Qrow staggered out.

"Okay, I'm here," he said. "What did I miss?"

"Qrow," Glynda growled.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding, sheesh," Qrow muttered as he walked towards Ozpin's desk.

"So," he went on, "Ruby's team leader turned out to be a second Raven, huh? Or worse."

Ozpin took a deep breath. His voice, when it came, had an edge of frustration to it, like the blades of a saw. "As Miss Shimmer has not yet deserted Beacon or our cause in order to dwell in wilderness exile as a bandit, I'm not inclined to make too much of the comparison."

"And Raven never left the whole of Vale exposed to a grimm attack, but you get what I'm saying, right?" Qrow said. "The moment I set eyes on her, I knew. I knew that she was—"

"That she was what, Qrow?" Ozpin demanded.

"Professor—"

"That she was what, Qrow?" Ozpin repeated over Glynda's objection.

Qrow thrust his hands into his pockets. "You know what, Oz. You know damn well, what. Unreliable. Didn't have what it takes. A weak reed. Just like Raven. You should never have brought her in on this, and you definitely shouldn't have made her team leader. You should have made Ruby the leader, like her mom."

"That's one of the reasons I didn't make Miss Rose the leader of Team Sapphire," Ozpin murmured.

"Leaving that aside," Ironwood said quickly, before they could get sidetracked; they had enough to discuss tonight without rehashing a past many years gone, "we should talk about what happened tonight."

"A lot happened tonight," Ozpin murmured.

"You know what I mean, Oz," Ironwood said.

"Yes, James, I know, just as I know that we have many other, more urgent, matters to discuss before morning," Ozpin replied.

Ironwood began. "More urgent than—"

"Yes, much more urgent!" Ozpin snapped.

Ironwood's eyebrows rose. To hear Ozpin raise his voice was … when was the last time he had heard Ozpin raise his voice?

Ozpin did not look at him. He did not look at Ironwood, or at any of them; he looked past them instead, over Qrow's shoulder to some indeterminate point.

"I understand that there are times when you have doubts about me," Ozpin said. "There are times when I welcome your doubts and misgivings, your arguments; I have never claimed to be infallible. But I hope that I retain your confidence sufficiently that you will believe me when I say that Miss Shimmer is not Raven, nor is she the weak reed that you suppose. She is … I have faith in her, and I ask that you have faith in me also. There is nothing to be concerned about from Miss Shimmer; she is not a danger of which we must be wary, she is … she has made mistakes, yes, but she has also done good service. We all owe her a great debt."

"Are you sure that that debt isn't clouding your judgement, Oz?" Qrow asked. "I get that she saved Amber, but—"

"That would be a strange thing for a servant of Salem to do," Glynda pointed out. "If she were an agent of our enemy, then she might pretend to be trying to help Amber, but would she not kill her in the process and ensure that the power passed to Miss Fall, before it could be transferred to Miss Nikos or another new host?"

"She doesn't have to be working for the enemy," Qrow said. "Raven wasn't."

"We can't view the present entirely through the prism of the past," Glynda pointed out. "As much as we may want to see these children as echoes of ourselves when we were younger, we do them a disservice in the process, and we do all those who depend on us a disservice if we allow such misconceptions to impact our planning for the future. We must look at Miss Shimmer for who she is, not as a young Raven, or as a new Raven, not as someone who must or is doomed to tread in Raven's footsteps. There is no Raven here, neither Miss Shimmer nor Miss Xiao Long."

"But Qrow is right to say that she doesn't have to be working for Salem," Ironwood pointed out. "According to that leaked email, Miss Shimmer didn't blow the Breach because she wanted to bring down Vale, but because she was scared of losing her teammates down in that tunnel."

"That's what I'm saying," Qrow began.

"And I am saying," Ozpin said firmly, "that … if you really wish to discuss this, then we will. But later. It is not the most significant thing to happen tonight. Not by some distance. Miss Fall had much news, some of it obvious balderdash, but some of it … some of it concerns me much more than anything that might be said about Miss Shimmer. If we might discuss those concerns first, I promise that we will return to Miss Shimmer in due course, if you insist upon it."

"Very well," Ironwood said. "We can table it for now, and to be fair, we probably should. You want to discuss this possible attack on Vale you mentioned to the First Councillor?"

Ozpin nodded, resting his hands upon his desk. "Miss Fall had a great deal to say, most of it concerning her own past, interesting but ultimately inconsequential. It was only towards the end of her account that she began to yield up … a mixed bag of intelligence. As I say, some of it is nonsense: she attempted to convince us that Amber had betrayed us and was planning to give the Relic away to Salem."

"Amber?" Glynda repeated. "And after that, you believe a word to come out of Miss Fall's mouth?"

"Is it really impossible to believe?" Ironwood asked.

"Oh boy," Qrow muttered, pulling his flask out of one pocket.

Glynda glared at him over the top of her spectacles. "She is the Fall Maiden, James."

"Who has already tried to run away once," Ironwood said.

"And been attacked once by the woman who now accuses her of treachery!" Glynda declared. "She has been in a coma for the past year, and ever since she woke up, she has been under constant observation. When would she have been able to arrange this betrayal, and why would she?"

Ironwood conceded the point. They knew Amber much better than he did, after all. If they thought that she would not, or could not, have done this, then who was he to suggest otherwise, and on what basis? He didn't know her, he wasn't close to her, he hadn't formed a judgement of her character. They had, and in spite of what Ozpin had implied tonight, he did generally trust Ozpin's judgement.

"But you think that Cinder wasn't lying about everything?" he asked.

"I am less certain that she was lying about everything," Ozpin clarified. He sighed. "Although there are some things she said which I would very much like to believe are lies. Amber was not the only one alleged to have betrayed us."

Qrow drunk from his flask. "Let me guess: Leo."

From where he stood, Ironwood could see Ozpin's eyes close behind his spectacles. "Indeed," he murmured.

Ironwood couldn't say that he was astonished to hear it. After all, they'd already considered the possibility that Leo had betrayed them back when Cinder's own allegiances had come to light. Leo had let her and her teammates into his school, after all, and while he had managed to come up with a plausible-sounding reason for that, that didn't foreclose the possibility that his 'reason' had been just an excuse.

Not to mention the other unanswered questions, like how Salem's forces had found Amber, or rather, how they had known that Amber was the Fall Maiden.

"Miss Fall knew that Persephone is missing," Ozpin said. "Apparently, Salem has one of her servants searching for her even as we speak. The fact that she knew that … it was not mere luck or chance that led Miss Fall to Amber. We must consider that the identities of all the Maidens are compromised."

"Gods," Ironwood murmured. Luna. "We should move them, immediately."

Luna wouldn't like that, not one bit, but in this, if rarely otherwise, he was prepared to force the issue with her if he had to. She couldn't stay in Canterlot, not just for her own sake — he knew that Luna could handle herself, especially with Celestia's help — but for the sake of the children who might be caught in the crossfire if Salem attacked the combat school.

"I agree," Ozpin said. "I do not think that we need to rush to send Amber to Patch — she might well be safer here until a more permanent home can be arranged for her — but Luna and Sophie? We can't do anything about the fact that their names are known, but we can get them to other locations unknown to Salem—"

"Or to Leo," Qrow muttered.

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Ozpin said softly. "Leo has been named, and while I do not dismiss the possibility, nor do I wish to prejudge him guilty." He paused for a moment. "Qrow, I need you to set out for Mistral at first light. Question Leo, determine his guilt or innocence as you think best."

"As I think best?" Qrow asked.

"If he has betrayed us, it will be necessary to act swiftly," Ozpin murmured.

"'Act swiftly,'" Qrow repeated. "You mean kill him?"

"Yes," Ozpin said, without hesitation. "If Leo is a traitor, then he must be removed immediately."

Qrow took another swig from his flask. "And you want me to be the judge of that?"

"I trust your judgement, Qrow," Ozpin said.

"There are times when I wish you didn't," Qrow muttered.

"You are the only one who I can send to do this," Ozpin reminded him. "James and Glynda would be noticed by their absence, and the children … I wouldn't want to burden Miss Nikos or Miss Rose—"

"No, don't worry, I wouldn't want to burden Ruby with that either," Qrow said quickly. "God only knows what her father would say. No, don't worry, I'll be your executioner."

"If necessary," Ozpin reminded him. "Leo may be innocent."

"But if he isn't," Glynda said, "who will take over as Headmaster of Haven?"

"Don't look at me," Qrow muttered. "I quit teaching for a reason."

"No, once matters are resolved with Leo, I need you to find Persephone, or her successor if she has died, before Salem's agent does. Find her and drag her back here where we can decide what to do with her."

Qrow nodded. "Find the needle in the haystack. Got it."

"As for the new Headmaster of Haven … I don't know," Ozpin admitted. "It is not a choice I had thought to have to make for some time. I am afraid that we will have to cross that bridge when we get to it." He glanced upwards. "Unless you fancy a move to Mistral, Glynda?"

Glynda sniffed. "Very droll, Professor."

"I was being quite serious, I assure you," Ozpin said. "You would make an excellent headmaster, I have no doubt."

"That's very kind of you, Professor," Glynda said, "but I think Beacon needs me here, where I flatter myself I do a lot of good. Although if I might suggest, this incident shines a light on the fact that, while Theodore has Professor Rumpole, neither Leo nor James have anyone by their side that they can depend on."

"I have a whole school that I can depend on," Ironwood said.

"You know what I mean, James," Glynda replied. "Or will Luna be filling that role from now on?"

"To be honest," Ironwood replied, "I was thinking about posting Luna aboard a cruiser; the command of the Reliant has just fallen vacant, and she has the rank for it, if not necessarily the aerial experience."

"Far be it from me to criticise your decisions, James—" Ozpin began.

"But," Ironwood said.

"But airships are … rather fragile," Ozpin went on.

"I assure you, Oz, there is nothing fragile about one of my cruisers," Ironwood declared. "And I could keep the Reliant safe around Atlas; I'm not suggesting giving Luna a ship and then sending her off on dangerous patrols."

Although she probably wouldn't mind if I did.

"I would simply rather that the Winter Maiden were not placed in a situation where she might die simply because…" Ozpin spread his hands. "Because something went wrong with the engine on her ship, or because there was a storm one night, or any other reason why airships fall from the sky."

"You sound like an old man railing against newfangled technology he doesn't understand," Ironwood pointed out.

"I am an old man, James," Ozpin pointed out. "It's my prerogative to sound like it every now and then. Please, James, not a warship. Can't you do as Glynda suggests and find her something at Atlas Academy? One would think that you'd appreciate having her around."

"I might appreciate it more than she would," Ironwood muttered. "But all of the positions at Atlas Academy are filled at the moment, and I'm not going to fire someone doing a perfectly good job just so I can make room for Luna." He paused. "On the other hand, you know that Luna will hate being summoned to Atlas to take up a sinecure or, worse, to sit around doing nothing all day."

"Yes, in hindsight, she was a terrible choice for a Maiden," Ozpin allowed.

"How about with a little foresight?" Glynda murmured.

"Yes, Glynda, I do recall that you counselled me against it," Ozpin admitted, "but she seemed like a perfectly good choice: intelligent, capable, warm-hearted—"

"She had no patience then, and it seems that she hasn't acquired much of it since," Glynda said.

"I'm not sure you can be a good teacher without having at least some patience," Ironwood replied, "but she does need to feel like she's doing something."

"Keeping the world safe by making sure that magical power stays out of the wrong hands isn't good enough for her?" asked Qrow.

"Unfortunately, that's a little too passive for Luna's liking," said Ironwood.

Qrow snorted. "Fair enough, I guess. So what are you going to do with her?"

"I don't have the list of all current vacant positions memorised, but there will be a place available for her, I'm sure," Ironwood said. "I'll think of something, and not the Reliant, as you ask. And I'll tell Luna to come to Atlas early while she waits to take up her appointment, whatever that appointment turns out to be."

"And I will get in touch with Theodore and have him move Sophia to somewhere … else," Ozpin said. He paused. "Are you sure that you wouldn't like to take Leo's place at Haven, Glynda? Ideally, the new headmaster would know about Salem, the Maidens, the Relics, and so on and so forth before they were trusted with the key to the vault, and yet, the number of candidates who fit that criteria are … well, you and Professor Rumpole."

"As I said, it was a mistake for Leo not to have someone at his side who could step in in such a case as this," Glynda repeated. "As it would be for you, James."

"Winter Schnee," Ironwood said. "She's trustworthy, I'd bet my life on it. If you let me tell her—"

"I will consider it, earnestly, and give you an answer soon enough," Ozpin interrupted him. "You don't need to make your case to me, if you trust her … Glynda is correct, I have had cause to note recently that our circle is very small, and even now it has grown larger, the bulk of it is too young to be of help in situations like these. But, in the case of Haven … a realisation come to a little late, I'm afraid. Glynda, I may have to disregard your feelings in this matter."

Glynda pushed her glasses up her nose. "Mistral may not appreciate an outsider being foisted on them."

"That may be true, in general," Ironwood said, "but I think you'd be one outsider that Mistral would be happy to have foisted on them."

Glynda's eyebrows rose above her green eyes. "Perhaps you'd better elaborate, James."

"It's quite simple, really," Ironwood replied. "Which school wins more Vytal trophies than any other?"

"Beacon," Glynda said, "of course."

"And who is responsible for that, in no small part?" asked Ironwood.

Glynda cooked her head slightly to one side. "That's very kind of you to imply, James, but Professor Ozpin—"

"Sits here at the top of his tower, while you arm the students with the skills they need to survive in this harsh world," Ozpin said.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were conspiring to get rid of me," muttered Glynda.

"Glynda, I would be devastated to see you go," Ozpin declared, looking up at her at first, then getting to his feet. "But, even if the pool of qualified candidates were not so limited, we both know that your growth is being stifled by my shadow."

Glynda was silent for a moment. Her voice, when it came, was soft. "And what if I do not wish to leave? What if I would rather remain here and, as you so generously put it, continue to arm the students, rather than become a distant figure sitting at the top of the White Tower?"

"I would hardly blame you if you did," Ozpin murmured. "And if you did, you would be very sensible. Alas, duty demands much of us that we would not wish under more ideal circumstances."

Again, Glynda took a moment before she said, "Very well. If Leo is a traitor, then … then I will take his post at Haven. But you must promise me, Professor, that you will replace me here, and not just teaching all of my classes. It is not good for you to be alone, with no one to counsel you."

"No," Ozpin agreed. "No, it most certainly is not." He sank back down into his chair. "Thank you, Glynda; you take a weight off my mind."

"I find my hopes for Leo's innocence have increased," Glynda muttered.

Qrow snorted. A smile pricked at the corners of Ironwood's mouth.

Ozpin also smiled, though it was a fleeting smile and faded quickly. "Miss Fall, although alleging Leo's complicity, also alleges that one need not be a traitor to let a serpent into the garden. She alleges that there are two students still here in service to Salem. One from Beacon and one from Atlas."

"'From Atlas'?" Ironwood repeated. "Who?"

"Miss Bonaventure of Team Bluebell, " Ozpin said, "and a Tempest Shadow of—"

"Team Tsunami," Ironwood finished for him. "That's what she said, that they were working for Salem?"

"That is what Miss Fall alleged, yes," Ozpin said.

"I don't believe it," Glynda declared. "More nonsense. Miss Bonaventure is … I hesitate to speak ill of any of my students—"

"But," Qrow said invitingly.

"But if Salem were looking to recruit so young, I would expect her to choose someone less … unremarkable," Glynda went on. "Miss Bonaventure is in the lower half of the rankings in my combat class, her grades with Peter and Barty vary from average to mediocre, she displays some aptitude in Peter's practical exercises but is outclassed by some of our more talented students, and since she became the leader of Team Bluebell, she has failed to impress me with any great talent for leadership. It makes no sense to me. Does she seem like the sort of person Salem would bother to reach out to?"

"No," Qrow conceded. "But—" He took another drink from his hip flask. "That's only one way of looking at it. Yeah, sure, when you wanted to find some likely kid to help you out instead of calling me, you went to some of the best students that you could find. But, if you already had someone, and you wanted to send them into the school, maybe you'd tell them to keep a low profile and not get themselves noticed."

"There is a difference between keeping a low profile and barely keeping your head above water," Glynda replied. "Surely someone aiming to keep a low profile would be displaying a measure of quiet competence in all their classes?"

"I don't know; the verge of incompetence seems to be working out pretty well for this chick in terms of deflecting suspicion," Qrow muttered.

"You sound like you've judged her guilty already," Ozpin murmured. "There is only the word of a known enemy to go on — and an enemy who has already lied to us."

"Okay, I'm not saying to believe everything that comes out of her mouth," Qrow said. "You know Amber, so if you say she's good, that's fine with me, but it doesn't sound like any of us know these other two kids that well." He looked at Ironwood. "Unless you know this Atlas girl?"

"I know Shadow," Ironwood replied. "Do I know her well? I'd have to admit not. You know how it is when there is one member on a team who is quite a character; they can drown out the other members of their team. On Team Tsunami, that's Lulamoon; she sometimes makes it hard to see her teammates."

"Even Starlight Glimmer, the girl you thought might be a good Winter Maiden?" asked Glynda.

"At some point, you're going to have to let me live that down," Ironwood muttered. "We all thought Luna might be dying, we had to act quickly, and Glimmer's semblance—"

"She ran away, James," Glynda reminded him. "She'd barely been told to give the notion some thought, and she ran away into the wilderness."

"As much as I like making fun of Jimmy, perhaps we should cut him some slack on that, considering that she's not the only one who ran," Qrow pointed out. "At least Twilight—"

"Starlight."

"Whatever, at least she ran away before she actually got her hands on the magic. Persephone and Amber weren't as considerate. It seems like kids these days just can't handle the pressure the way we could back in our day."

"Now who sounds like an old man, Qrow?" asked Ozpin, a hint of mischief creeping into his voice.

"I feel old," Qrow grumbled. "Ruby and Yang make me feel old."

"Are you sure that's not just the drink?" asked Ironwood.

Qrow chuckled darkly. "Could be that too." He had another drink. "So, do you know anything about this … Stormy—?"

"Tempest Shadow," Ironwood corrected him. "In answer to Glynda's question, even Glimmer stands in the background behind Lulamoon. I think she likes it that way. Up until very, very recently, I would have said that they all liked it that way: Glimmer, Flare, and Shadow. I still think that Shadow likes it that way, but perhaps not for the same reasons that I would have given before."

"You suspect her?" Ozpin asked, sounding surprised. "I must confess, I expected you to swell up somewhat at the insult to Atlas Academy."

"I just found out that one of my students abused her stepsister enough that she became one of Salem's most dangerous servants," Ironwood said. "Let's just say that I'm having to rethink my reflexive loyalty. That doesn't mean that I think Shadow is guilty, but I'm not going to deny the possibility out of hand. I've not noticed anything suspicious, but as Qrow points out, she could just be keeping things low key. I'll have Lulamoon and Glimmer keep an eye on her, watch out for anything … unusual."

Qrow said, "What if her teammates—?"

"No," Ironwood said firmly. "No, that I won't consider. I can admit that maybe I don't know all of my students well enough to spot when they are … trouble, but Lulamoon? Glimmer? Them, I know. Underneath Lulamoon's cape and her affectations, she's made of the right stuff. They both are. They're made of true mettle."

"'Both'?" asked Glynda. "Starlight Glimmer—"

"Wasn't equal to the burden of being a Maiden," Ironwood admitted, "but that's a heavy burden, as I'm sure that Oz will agree."

"One of the heaviest," Ozpin murmured.

"And one that a lot of people aren't equipped to shoulder; that's why it's important to choose the right candidates, that's why even the right candidates sometimes let us down," Ironwood said. "The fact that Glimmer couldn't shoulder that weight doesn't say anything about her courage or her resolve as a huntress, and it certainly doesn't say anything about her loyalty. She might run away from the power of a maiden, but she would never betray her friends, not for one second. Despite what I've learned, there are some who still have my absolute trust, and those two are amongst them."

"And you have my trust, James, so do as you will in this matter," Ozpin said. "Set Miss Lulamoon and Miss Glimmer to watch their quiet teammate. As for Miss Bonaventure—"

"She has been around Amber in the past," Glynda pointed out. "She and Mister Bronzewing are friends, and Miss Bonaventure and Miss Heartstrings have been in her presence on numerous occasions; no harm has come to Amber as a result."

That might be because Amber— Ironwood cut off that thought. Ozpin said not, Ozpin said it wasn't possible, and Ozpin, as he had reminded them, was still their leader. If he said that it wasn't possible, if he said that there was no way that Amber could betray them, well … they ought to listen. They owed him that much.

Not to mention the fact that Amber was almost always accompanied by at least one member of either Team SAPR or Team RSPT, and when she wasn't, it was because one of Ozpin's inner circle was with her instead — not Ironwood, but Glynda, Qrow, Ozpin himself. Hatching treachery would be exceedingly difficult under those conditions.

So would harming Amber. Assuming that all of Salem's agents knew that Amber was the Fall Maiden, it would nevertheless take a boldness verging upon madness to attack her while she was being so closely protected.

That didn't stop Cinder Fall.

And look where it got her.


"Could it be a double bluff?" Ironwood suggested. "Cinder gives us two names, one of which is really an enemy, and the other isn't. The name that is not is so clearly not an enemy that we dismiss both names, thinking that she must be lying?"

"It is a possibility," Ozpin conceded. "That would also explain why she named Amber—"

"Perhaps even Leo," Glynda offered.

"They can't all be false leads, or that just defeats the object," Qrow muttered.

"I fear that we dare not assume that any of them are false leads without proof," Ozpin murmured. "Loathe as I am to suspect one of the students … what Miss Fall has said cannot be ignored, as much as we might wish to."

Glynda frowned. "Then what do we do? I'm not sure I would trust Miss Heartstrings to spy on Miss Bonaventure, the way James trusts his students."

"No, nor would I," said Ozpin. "No, we will … we will tell them that, as their team will shortly be reduced to two people once Mister Bronzewing takes his leave, that they are being temporarily suspended while we explore our options for their future study. That will remove Miss Bonaventure from Beacon and give us time and space to investigate her thoroughly."

"What if she runs?" asked Qrow.

"Then we will know that Miss Fall was telling the truth about her," replied Ozpin.

Glynda pursed her lips together. "I see," she murmured. "That's that decided then, I suppose. What else?"

"The attack on Vale," Ozpin said. "And, related, possibly more disturbing news. Miss Fall told us that Salem has sent a Siren to Vale, to spread discord and strife amongst the people. The recent upsurge in hostility towards Atlas and to the faunus is apparently their doing."

"And here I thought people just didn't like Jimmy throwing his weight around," Qrow said.

"You can apologise whenever you like," Ironwood told him.

"Worse still," Ozpin said, "the Siren's influence has reached as far as the Valish Defence Forces."

"To General Blackthorn?" Ironwood asked. "That would explain a lot."

Ozpin nodded. "Miss Fall certainly seemed to regard being taken into their custody as a death sentence. She believed that the Valish soldiers were under the control of those elements of Salem's faction who had betrayed her."

"But only because they were working with Amber right?" Qrow asked. "Which is a load of bull."

"But if we are willing to accept that there are other agents of Salem present, we cannot rule out the possibility of some … palace intrigue amongst them," Ozpin said. "It would not be the first time that Salem's schemes have been undone by jockeying for power and status amongst those who serve her. It has enabled her agents to be defeated in detail, or better still, they have defeated themselves. It may be that Miss Fall has fallen, if you will forgive the pun, victim to such infighting and has leapt to the conclusion that Amber is also involved. She did not claim to have any proof of Amber's involvement." He paused for a moment. "Miss Shimmer certainly found the idea of a Siren's involvement to be plausible, and I am inclined to trust her judgement on the matter. For that reason, as she is familiar with this creature, I thought to have Miss Shimmer and Team Sapphire take the lead on hunting down the Siren once the tournament is over. Miss Shimmer may have a better idea of what she is looking for and how to combat it than we would, or would be able to instruct, say, James' Atlesian specialists. That will also free us up to concentrate upon the Siren's influence."

"How strong is that influence?" Glynda asked. "Could the Valish forces become hostile?"

"General Blackthorn is doing nothing while hordes of grimm gather outside the walls," Ironwood pointed out. "You could say that he's already become hostile."

"Yes, but he isn't actually shooting at anyone yet," Glynda pointed out.

"That's part of the problem," Ironwood replied. "But I take your point." He paused. "How far and deep does the rot spread? And what about Councillor Emerald?"

"I think it would be very strange indeed if the Siren's influence had made the First Councillor more emollient and reasonable than he was before the creature arrived," Ozpin murmured dryly. "I think that he is not under her spell, thank goodness. As for your other question, I know as much, or as little, as you." He clasped his hands together. "As I see it, there are two questions before us: first, how are we to defend Vale against an impending attack by the grimm without, possibly aided by saboteurs within, and secondly, what are we to do if the Valish Defence Forces become hostile?" He looked at Ironwood. "This is where I should be very glad of your opinion as a military man, James."

"And yet, I don't think that you'd like my initial answer, as a military man," Ironwood replied, "which is that, if the Valish start shooting, I can blow them out of the sky in under five minutes."

"Someone's sure of themselves," Qrow said.

"Valish airships are heavily armed, true," Ironwood allowed. "Those monstrosities the Mistralians persuaded them to buy are even more heavily armed. But they're slow and sluggish to manoeuvre, and their armour is designed to protect them from the beaks and claws of grimm, not from laser fire. All I'd need to do is order my ships to target their engines and force them down. But I'm guessing you'd prefer to avoid the casualties."

"We are talking about human beings," Ozpin pointed out mildly. "Human beings, moreover, who are not in control of their actions. Not to mention that the idea of airships falling down upon Vale makes my stomach churn. If there is a way that eschews military conflict, I would welcome it, yes. If this time of peace can be at all preserved … the last thing we need is a war between kingdoms."

"It only takes one to start a fight; sometimes, the best thing you can do is finish it," Ironwood said. "But…" He considered the problem. "If First Councillor Emerald isn't affected, then he could overrule his military commanders and order his forces to stand down."

"Would they listen?" asked Glynda. "If the Siren has gotten to them—"

"No, they wouldn't, but that's where the second element of the plan comes in," Ironwood went on. "A decapitation strike by a small, elite unit descending on the headquarters of the Valish Defence Force and capturing General Blackthorn and his command staff. Once captured, he can be compelled to order his forces to surrender, if possible; if not, then at the very least, those Valish forces which have not obeyed their councillor will be left leaderless and without coordination." Ironwood looked down at Ozpin. "Although at that point, I'm afraid it may not be possible to resolve the matter without engaging and eliminating the holdouts."

"If it must be so, I would prefer to leave that to Valish units that have remained loyal to the First Councillor," Ozpin said. "The last thing we need is images of Atlesian airships reducing Valish military positions from the air."

"Do you think that they'll fight each other?" Ironwood asked. "Do you think that the First Councillor will give such an order? Why would he?"

"Why would your men fight against the Valish?" asked Ozpin.

"Because they've started shooting at us," Ironwood replied.

"Yes, well," Ozpin murmured. "I do like the idea of this decapitation strike, though; like killing an apex alpha to scatter a horde. Prepare your team, but do it in the strictest secrecy, I beg you, with as small a number as possible and only those you can trust."

"I already have just the team," Ironwood assured him.

Ozpin nodded. "Councillor Emerald has ordered, or told me he would order, the police to increase security around key infrastructure. He seemed to feel that something was not quite right about General Blackthorn, which is why he is using the police, not the military. I hope that this will counter the potential for sabotage and leave us free to concentrate on the threat from the grimm beyond the city."

Ironwood got out his scroll and, after a couple of taps of his fingers, put it down on top of Ozpin's desk.

A hologram appeared above the desk, a top down map of the outskirts of Vale, including Beacon, with lines, squares and icons of white for the Atlesians, green for the Valish and blue for the Mistralians scattered across the map.

"As things stand," Ironwood said, "I have my Fourth Battalion deployed on defensive positions on the Green Line, with their airships positioned above them in support. Elements of the Ninth Battalion, which arrived from Atlas after the Breach, are here at Beacon, with another company in reserve behind the Green Line. The First Battalion is my general reserve, standing by aboard ship, with the ships of the First and Ninth Squadrons patrolling over Beacon or Vale.

"Currently," he went on, gesturing to the green line — not to be confused with the Green Line — running south of the white line representing the Fourth Battalion, "the Valish have an infantry battalion of their own on the Green Line, with an armoured regiment in support."

"Tanks," Qrow muttered scornfully.

"With proper infantry support to stop the grimm from closing on and ripping through their armour, they can be effective," Ironwood said quietly.

"Then why don't you use them?" Qrow asked, in a tone that was approaching a demand without quite getting there.

"Because we prefer walkers," Ironwood said. "They don't require as many crew, and they aren't helpless up close. But I can see why the Valish might disagree, especially since they don't have our airpower. In any case, the Valish have three more infantry or marine battalions in Vale itself, together with two airships, the Terror and the Zhenzhang. The Mistralians are here, camped between the Green and Red Lines; they've been conducting exercises with the Valish."

"Who's winning?" asked Glynda.

"The Mistralians, surprisingly," Ironwood replied. "From what my people have observed, Polemarch Yeoh keeps luring the Valish into ambushes."

"An unexpected tactic, from a Mistralian," Glynda observed.

"From an aristocrat, perhaps, less so from an old mercenary," said Ironwood. "The Dingyuan hasn't been taking part in any exercises, but according to Polemarch Yeoh, it's still under Mistralian control." He paused. "While we can't know how the Valish troops will react in the event of a grimm attack, as I see it, there are three broad options: either they attempt to stand their ground, in which case, I can move in the ships of Ninth Squadron to provide covering fire, or they retreat from their positions, or they—"

"Turn on your guys next to them," said Qrow.

"Exactly." Ironwood said. "In the second scenario, it would become a race to see whether we could occupy the vacated positions on the Green Line before the grimm reached them. Our best chance would be to expand the frontage of the Fourth Battalion out along the entire perimeter, then reinforce with the Ninth and, if necessary, First Battalion to strengthen the line. Having the Mistralians move forward might also be of assistance. If the Valish turn hostile, then to be perfectly honest, I don't think we can hold the Green Line. I am confident that so long as we can control or even contest the skies, we can repel a frontal assault by the grimm; we have enough firepower to make it impossible for them to move forward. But I'm far less confident about our ability to do that while being enfiladed from the flank. In that case, I think our best option would be to evacuate the Fourth Battalion by air while using the First Battalion to seize the Red Line positions by a coup de main, and make our stand there."

"On the edge of Vale itself?" Ozpin said.

"They still won't make it inside Vale " Ironwood said. "I guarantee it."

There was a moment of pause before Glynda said, "Would you need the assistance of the students?"

"I certainly wouldn't mind having some of them assisting on the line, but I wouldn't mandate it even if I could," Ironwood said. "No one will be refused, but that choice is for them to make, not for me to make for them. I won't fault them either way."

A ping from the elevator drew the attention of Ironwood and everyone else in the office.

"Expecting someone else?" asked Qrow.

The doors opened before Ozpin had a chance to reply. They opened to admit Ruby Rose and Penny into the headmaster's office.

"Miss Rose, Miss Polendina, what an unexpected pleasure," said Professor Ozpin in an amiable tone. "Is there something I can do for you?"
 
Chapter 65 - Fallen Idol
Fallen Idol


Ruby didn't say anything as the lift carried her and Penny up to see Professor Ozpin.

To see the second person who had betrayed her trust tonight.

It was arguably even worse, because while Ruby had believed that Sunset would do something like what she had done, to find out that Professor Ozpin had known all about it and done nothing was … it had not been something Ruby had seen coming.

Professor Ozpin was … Professor Ozpin. The man who had saved Vale after the fall of Mountain Glenn, defeating the great grimm horde that had swept down upon the city, breaking its back at Ozpin's Stand. The man who led the battle to defend the world from Salem. The man who had mentored her mother, who had inspired her to come to Beacon and then helped her — and her father, and her uncle — to become great huntsmen, protectors of the weak and the innocent.

The man who had trusted her to take her mother's place in the fight against Salem, the fight of life against death, the fight to protect all mankind.

He had trusted her, and she had trusted him as well. She had trusted him to do the right thing, to be the model of a huntsman, to make the choices that had to be made for the sake of Remnant and humanity.

And Professor Ozpin had shown himself willing and able to make those choices in the past. Even when Ruby had been glad that those choices had not, in fact, had to be made, like when Sunset had found a way to save Pyrrha and Amber both, nevertheless, Professor Ozpin had been willing, in the absence of any better options, to make the hard choice.

Ruby admired him for that. She could understand why Pyrrha and Jaune didn't, because as much as it might be necessary to sacrifice for the greater good … well, it was sometimes necessary to kill a cow so you could eat hamburgers, but you didn't expect the cow itself to be happy about it, did you?

Not that Ruby was saying that Pyrrha was a cow, just that … forget that. Ruby was glad that she hadn't said that out loud.

The point was that, while Ozpin could be persuaded that there were better ways, he ultimately didn't hesitate to take the hard path. He wasn't swayed by sentiment or sentimentality; he was strong, as a huntsman sometimes needed to be strong in all the hardest possible ways.

Ruby had thought he was, anyway.

Apparently, it was not so.

That disappointed her more than what Sunset had done. What Sunset had done was worse, but Sunset could at least plead in mitigation that her behaviour was entirely consistent with her character.

Sunset was … Sunset was like the snake that the farmer's wife rescued from out of the hot sun and nursed back to health, only to get bitten on the breast by way of thanks.

"You knew I was a snake when you took me in."

Yes, yes, they had all known what Sunset was. They had all known that Sunset was someone unscrupulous, someone who fundamentally didn't care about anyone outside of a close — widening gradually over time, sure, but still close — circle of people who she deigned to…

'Deigned' wasn't the right word. It made it sound like Sunset was condescending — okay, she condescended to Ruby plenty, but not in the same way — to give them her affection. That wasn't right, and as much as Ruby was judging Sunset pretty harshly at the moment, she wasn't going to malign her by pretending that Sunset's affection for them had been false, had been a pretence, had been something burdensome or bothersome to her that she had endured.

Sunset's feelings had been real. So real that they had driven her to do something terrible.

And they had known that. They should have known that — they should have been able to see that coming — because Sunset had never hidden who and what she was.

That was why Ruby had found it so easy to believe that Sunset had done what she was accused of, even in the face of denials from First Councillor Emerald and Professor Ozpin.

Professor Ozpin…

She had expected better from Professor Ozpin. He was no viper but a huntsman, and a noble huntsman at that.

Or at least, Ruby had thought he was.

Apart from anything else, if he had been willing to excuse Sunset's actions, then … how could the same man willing to ask Pyrrha to sacrifice her life or her soul for the greater good be willing to turn a blind eye to Sunset's blatant disregard for the same?

It just … it didn't make any sense to her, and because it didn't make any sense to her, it was starting to rankle with Ruby as the elevator made its way up to the top of the tower.

Yes, make the hard choice if absolutely necessary. Yes, ask Pyrrha to make a sacrifice — it was a hard thing to ask, it had been a hard thing to sit still for, and Ruby had had a very hard time indeed sitting still for it; she'd had to… she wasn't exactly proud of how she'd acted back then; putting her hood up like that felt, in hindsight, a little bit like turning a blind eye to what was going on, when she ought to have faced it and tried to make Penny understand the necessity of what was happening, but, whatever, it hadn't actually been necessary—

Because of Sunset.

Which wouldn't have—

Sometimes, peace must be bought with blood that is red like roses.

But not their blood. Never the ones we swore to protect. Never.


Yes, it was good that Amber was alive, and Pyrrha was alive, but if it meant that the price was Sunset being allowed to carry on at Beacon, even after what she had…

Ruby shook her head. She was getting off track. That wasn't the point. Sunset was … dealt with now, for good or for bad. She was—

"Ruby?" Penny asked, putting a hand on Ruby's arm. "Are you okay? You were shaking your head there."

"I know," Ruby murmured. "I know I was, I just…"

Penny cocked her head to one side. "Just what?"

"I can't understand why Professor Ozpin would be willing to ask Pyrrha to give her life for the good of humanity," Ruby said, "but at the same time, when he found out that Sunset had put humanity — or Vale, at least — at risk just to save our lives … he was okay with that. It doesn't make any sense to me. Surely, someone who could see that the first was necessary, even if it was hard and sad, could also see that the second was wrong. Wholly, totally wrong. How could the same person make those two decisions?"

Penny was silent for a moment. "In my experience, people are often very complicated and do things that don't always match up with the way they acted before."

"In your experience?" Ruby repeated.

"I've had a little experience by now," Penny said. "I wasn't assembled yesterday!"

Ruby couldn't help but let out a little chuckle. "No. No, you weren't, were you?" She sighed. "Maybe you're right. Maybe that's all it is, but I—"

"You wish that there was a reason?" Penny asked.

"I don't know," Ruby replied. "I don't think there's anything that Professor Ozpin could say that would make me think he did the right thing … but then, if I think that, then what am I doing here, going to see him? Maybe that's all I'm going to see him for, so that there'll be some sort of reason that will explain why it was necessary to cover up what Sunset did, why he had to cover it up. Some reason that will … let me keep believing in him."

"And stopping panic in Vale," Penny suggested. "That isn't a good enough reason?"

"It's a good reason for not throwing Sunset in jail, I guess," Ruby admitted. "But to not even kick her out of Beacon, to let her keep leading this team? No, it's not a good enough reason. Not for me."

"I see," Penny murmured. She hesitated for a second. "What … what will you do if Professor Ozpin doesn't make you team leader?"

"I guess I can't do anything but put up with it," Ruby replied. "But … maybe he will make the wrong choice — he's made the wrong choice before, or we wouldn't be here — but … I hope that he'll make the right decision."

"Which is you," Penny said.

"Yes," Ruby said flatly. "Yes, it is." She looked at Penny. "I suppose that I shouldn't say that out loud, I suppose that makes me look grasping or ambitious or whatever, but I am the only choice. Jaune doesn't have the experience, and Pyrrha … Pyrrha couldn't make the hard decisions. She might have condemned Sunset, just about, but when put in Sunset's place … she'd make the same bad choices that Sunset made."

Penny frowned at that. "Pyrrha was willing to risk everything to become—"

"And Sunset was willing to die facing Adam," Ruby reminded her. "Sunset was never … never a coward when it came to her own life, her own safety. She could risk that just fine, just like Pyrrha could risk her own life fighting Cinder in that stupid duel. It was other people's lives they couldn't stand to risk. Do you really think that Pyrrha has it in her to let Jaune die, even if it's for the sake of the whole world?"

Penny blinked. "No. No, I don't think that she would. I don't … think that she could."

She didn't elaborate on whether that was a good thing or not, and Ruby didn't ask her to. She didn't need Penny to agree with her, and she didn't want to fight with her about it either. She just wanted to get her point across.

"I'm the only one who can lead this team the way it should be led," she declared. "With unwavering commitment."

"So…" Penny began. "So there's no one that you would … no one for who—?"

"No," Ruby said, before Penny could finish. "No one." She looked at Penny. "Does that bother you?"

"No," Penny said softly. "It makes me … I admire you, but at the same time, I also feel a little sorry for you."

Ruby frowned. "You don't need to feel sorry for me, Penny," she said. "Not one little bit."

"Okay," Penny murmured. "Is there anything that Professor Ozpin could say that would convince you he'd done the right thing?"

"He could…" Now, it was Ruby's turn to trail off, as an obvious answer failed to spring to the forefront of her mind. "I guess if he told me that he thought that there'd be a massive grimm attack if he did anything, then I suppose I'd have to accept that. Because…"

"Because what?" Penny asked.

"Because if it's sometimes necessary to sacrifice lives for the greater good, for the cause, for humanity, then … then I guess it has to be sometimes necessary to sacrifice principles as well," Ruby said. "I mean … you can't say that you'll give your life for the sake of the people, but you won't give up your pride or your honour or whatever else you want to call it. If you let people die because saving them would make you feel bad, make you cross a line, then you're just as selfish as Sunset was. I'm not saying that anyone should be like Olivia, leading her knights to their death because she was too proud to call for help, no, that's not what I'm saying.

"What I'm saying is that if Professor Ozpin thought that punishing Sunset, even just the way that I've done, would cost lives, then he would have a moral obligation not to do it, and … I'd have to admit that I was wrong."

"But Sunset did save lives," Penny pointed out. "She saved Pyrrha."

"That's not what I meant," Ruby said. "I'm not talking about other, random, unconnected things that Sunset did in the future, but that Professor Ozpin had no way of knowing that she would do or could do. He didn't know that she could save Amber the way she did. I'm talking about clear cut choices like the one Sunset faced: because she did something, people died. If Professor Ozpin knew that if he did something, then people would die, and so, he chose to do nothing, then that would be an explanation I would have to accept. Or else I'd be sacrificing my own principles. Does all of this make sense? I … I'm not good with words."

"I think it makes sense," Penny replied. "It's all about saving as many people as possible, isn't it?"

"Yes, exactly," Ruby said, "while also respecting their choices, and their right to make their own choices, because I wouldn't want to tell anyone what to do just to keep them safe." Unlike some people. "Nobody should be able to do that."

Penny was silent for a moment. "I stand by what I said: people are very complicated."

"I guess we are," Ruby agreed. "But for good reasons, hopefully."

The elevator slowed to a stop.

Ruby took a deep breath. "I guess this is it, huh?"

Penny smiled. "It'll be alright," she said.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because … because I believe in you, I suppose," Penny said. "And because things have a way of working out while my friends are around."

Ruby smiled a little. "Thanks for being here, Penny."

The doors to the lift opened, and Ruby stepped out, with Penny not even a step behind her. Professor Ozpin's office was dark, lit only by the green lights seeping down from the top of the tower above, but even that little light was enough that Ruby could see that Professor Ozpin was not alone up here. Uncle Qrow was with him, and Professor Goodwitch and General Ironwood too.

And they were all looking at her, and at Penny.

"Miss Rose, Miss Polendina, what an unexpected pleasure," said Professor Ozpin, kindly — or at least, he was trying to be kind. Trying to sound kind and friendly, although that wasn't necessarily the same as actually being kind and friendly. "Is there something I can do for you?"

You can tell me why you kept what Sunset did a secret. Ruby glanced at Uncle Qrow. "Um, Professor … I was hoping that I could have a word with you … in private."

"'In private'?" Uncle Qrow repeated. "You got something to say that you can't say in front of me?"

"There's nothing wrong with that, Qrow," Professor Goodwitch said. "Although I do question what it is that couldn't wait until morning. We are in the middle of a meeting, Miss Rose."

"I can see that, Professor, and I'm sorry," Ruby said. "But it … it really is urgent." She swallowed. "I'd rather talk to Professor Ozpin by himself, but I'll say it in front of everyone if I have to. I'm not leaving without talking to you."

Professor Goodwitch pushed her glasses up her nose. "That is not for you to decide, Miss Rose."

"What will you do about it, Glynda?" asked Professor Ozpin. "Bundle her back into the elevator with your semblance?"

He sounded amused, like he was about to chuckle. Then he looked into Ruby's eyes. Or at least, that's what Ruby thought he was doing. It was a little hard to tell because, with it being so dark in here and Ruby on the other side of the room from him, she was having a hard time making out Professor Ozpin's eyes, but she definitely thought that he was looking into hers.

She felt like he was looking into her eyes, and through her eyes, piercing her soul.

"This is about Miss Shimmer," he said calmly. "Is it not?"

Qrow frowned. "Ruby?"

Ruby took a step forward, and then another. "Sunset told me everything," she declared. "She admitted to everything. Including … including that you knew about it."

The only sound in the office was the ever-grinding clock.

Professor Goodwitch folded her arms; the rustling of her blouse, the fabric of her sleeves was the first sound besides in the clock in the office after Ruby had spoken. "So," she said quietly, "it was true." She turned her gaze sharply upon Professor Ozpin. "And you knew about it."

"After the fact," Professor Ozpin replied. "But yes, I knew."

"And you defended her," Ruby declared. "You kept the truth from all of us, and even when the truth came out, you still acted like it couldn't possibly be true—"

"I spoke the truth in the police station, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin said. "I said that Miss Shimmer was imperfect, but that she was—"

"'A credit to Beacon Academy,'" Ruby said, almost spitting out the words, the false words, the awful words. "Are you really going to say that you didn't think that was a lie? How … how could you even say something like that without choking on it?"

"Because I believe it, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin.

So few words, such simple words, and yet at the same time … awful words. Words that struck Ruby harder than any physical blow, harder than the swipe of a ursa's paws, harder than a gunshot.

Sunset, a credit to Beacon Academy. Selfish Sunset, callous and careless Sunset, vile Sunset, a credit to Beacon Academy? It would have been laughable if it hadn't been for the fact that the person saying it was supposed to know, better than anyone else, who was and was not a credit to Beacon.

"How…?" Ruby's voice, when it came, was quiet, barely louder than a whisper. She sounded childlike, even to her own ears, a child looking for reassurance that it was just thunder outside, and not the growling of the grimm. "How can you say that? After what she did, how can you say that? How can you think that, how can you believe that? Is that … is that what a huntress is to you: someone who lets people die, who puts them in harm's way to save—?"

"Her friends," Professor Ozpin said, softly but firmly. "I very much hope that you were going to say 'her friends,' Miss Rose. Let us not traduce Miss Shimmer by claiming that she acted to save her own skin."

"I know why she did it," Ruby declared. "I know why Sunset did what she did; that's how I knew that she'd done it even before she said anything. But the fact that she did it to save me and Pyrrha and Jaune and Blake and Rainbow Dash, it doesn't … maybe it makes her a little bit of a better person than if she'd done it because she was scared to die herself, but it doesn't make her good! It doesn't make her a huntress, and it doesn't make her a credit to Beacon. How could you say that?!"

She yelled those last few words, those words that galloped out of her mouth without pause or hesitation.

"Answer me," Ruby said, her voice halfway between a plea and a demand. "Please."

Again, there was a moment of quiet in the office. General Ironwood was stiff, rigid, his hands clasped behind his back, his eyes on Ruby. Qrow was looking somewhere else, his hands thrust into his pockets, studying the wall. Professor Goodwitch still had her arms folded and still looked at Professor Ozpin.

Professor Ozpin looked at her. Straight at her. At least, he was kind enough to do that.

"Has Crescent Rose ever misfired, Miss Rose?" Professor Ozpin asked.

"No, never," Ruby replied. "I made it too well for that."

"Then you are very fortunate, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin said. "I, on the other hand, have chosen the wrong analogy." He paused for a moment. "So let us dispense with the analogy. Miss Shimmer has made mistakes. I do not condone every decision that she has made since arriving at Beacon. But should I throw her away because of a single mistake, should I cast aside a weapon because it has misfired once?"

"Sunset isn't a weapon," Penny said. "She's a person."

"I think we're back on the analogy, Penny," General Ironwood murmured.

"And the answer is yes," Ruby declared. "Yes, if the weapon misfiring kills people, then throw it away! If Sunset makes a mistake that is so big, that is that big, then throw her away too!"

"What of forgiveness, Miss Rose?"

"What about justice?" Ruby demanded. "Does everyone just get to get away with it, whatever they've done, because they say they're sorry? Murderers and thieves, Torchwick and Cinder, they can all just say they're sorry and skip merrily on their way?" She took a moment to catch her breath and bowed her head. "I … I understand that … Sunset said that the First Councillor found out before you did. That's why the accusations didn't mention you."

"Indeed," Professor Ozpin replied. "It was the First Councillor and the former First Councillor who first discovered the truth, after Miss Shimmer confessed to them—"

"Why would she do that?" asked Qrow. "She could have saved herself a lot of trouble if she'd kept it to herself."

"And no doubt, she would have kept it to herself, if she had been truly uncaring to the cost of what she had done," Professor Ozpin said. "If she truly given no thought to the possibility that she had made a mistake. But she was not so careless, nor was she so confident in the righteousness of her decision, and so, the guilt weighed upon her. And guilt has a habit of finding expression."

"Sunset said that she thought that she could save Councillor Aris' career if she came out with the truth," Ruby explained. "She thought that people wouldn't blame Councillor Novo if they knew that it was all her fault."

"If only politics were that simple," General Ironwood murmured.

"The former First Councillor, and the current First Councillor, knew better," said Professor Ozpin. "They knew that Councillor Aris' position was untenable, and so … and yet, they made a rather generous decision in the circumstances, not to let Miss Shimmer hurl herself onto the bonfire of Miz Aris' career but to keep her secret."

"And you approve of that?" asked Professor Goodwitch. "Don't you think that Miss Shimmer ought to have been punished for her actions? Or, as Miss Rose says, is any criminal to walk free upon the merest expression of remorse?"

"Whatever you — or Miss Rose, or anyone else — might think of Miss Shimmer, she is a hero to the people of Vale," Professor Ozpin said. "Taking that away, doing worse than that, revealing that the hero had in fact been—"

"The villain the whole time?" Ruby suggested.

Professor Ozpin did not reply to that, but simply said, "It would have caused outcry in the city. It could have caused panic that would have drawn more grimm down upon the city, it could even have worsened the backlash against the faunus in Vale — something I am sure that Councillor Emerald considered very carefully. He certainly did not act out of love for Miss Shimmer. They came to an arrangement whereby he would give Miss Shimmer certain dangerous assignments, hoping that grimm or bandits or some other peril in the world would deliver to Miss Shimmer the justice that Miss Rose seems to wish to exact on her."

"This isn't about—" Ruby stopped. "That … that was why she went away, wasn't it? You said she was on a mission for you, and when she came back—"

"Correct, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin said. "That was a mission for the First Councillor."

Ruby frowned. "But then … there were never any others? Sunset never left again, or was she gone and then back, and I—"

"No, Miss Rose, there were no others," Professor Ozpin. "I had never approved of what Councillor Emerald had asked of Miss Shimmer, and after the first time … I determined to put a stop to it. I told Councillor Emerald no more."

"So you knew by then, at least," Professor Goodwitch said.

Professor Ozpin nodded. "I found out shortly before Miss Shimmer left on her mission for the First Councillor."

"And you didn't do anything?" Ruby asked. "You let her stay here at Beacon, continue leading Team Sapphire, keep … you didn't do anything? Because she was sorry?"

"Because I know what it is to be burdened by mistakes that one can never undo," Professor Ozpin replied. "And because I know I am inclined towards, if not forgiveness, then at the very least towards mercy, the quality of which is, thankfully, not yet strained."

"That doesn't mean—" Ruby began, before biting the words back until she had marshalled them a little better. "I understand that you didn't want to cause a panic, risk another grimm attack. I suppose … I suppose there was a risk of that, and avoiding that … it's worth almost anything, any … sacrifice." Except for the fact that it doesn't seem to have been much of a sacrifice for you, but never mind that. Let that go. If that … I can't think like that; that's too much, a step too far. Not everything needs to be a hard choice.

Ruby went on, "But you could have thrown her out of Beacon and told us the truth. We would have kept the secret, but we also wouldn't have had to…" She trailed off, fearing to seem too angry and emotional.

Professor Ozpin leaned forward a little. "Would not have had to what, Miss Rose?"

"It doesn't matter, Professor," Ruby replied. "The point is that you could have sent her away."

"Yes," Professor Ozpin agreed. "I could have. I could have told her that she was no longer welcome at this school. But I did not. Because, as I have said, I am a great believer in mercy, and because I am…" He paused. "You know what I am, you all know what I am, and yet, I find that I am struggling to find words to express it without sounding inappropriate. I am responsible for a great many lives, in Vale and beyond, not only as the headmaster of this academy but … as the leader of this group."

"Yes, Professor, you are," Ruby whispered. Which is why you especially should have appreciated the magnitude of what Sunset did.

"And as such, I must take the broadest view, the longest view, the…" again, Professor Ozpin hesitated.

"Professor?" Penny asked.

Professor Ozpin's eyes flickered from Ruby to Penny. "Yes, Miss Polendina?"

"Why is it that you couldn't let Sunset go, or let Sunset … why did Sunset get mercy, but you weren't going to show any to Pyrrha?" asked Penny.

Professor Ozpin closed his eyes. "That is a very good question, Miss Polendina."

"What's the answer?" asked Penny, without malice.

Professor Ozpin chuckled. "The answer is that I must balance at all times the greatest possible good for the greatest possible number," he said. "Miss Nikos … to have lost Miss Nikos would have been a great shame, a tragedy even, but it would not have been nearly so much as the tragedy of letting the full power of the Fall Maiden pass into the hands of Miss Fall. I had to weigh the loss of Miss Nikos' one life against the potential loss of life that could come if Salem gained control of the powers of one of the four maidens — or worse, the Relic of Choice. By the same token, I had to weigh the lives that Miss Shimmer might yet go on to save as part of Team Sapphire, in the course of her duties, against … well, that is the point, isn't it? Against what? No punishment that I could inflict on Miss Shimmer would bring back Mister Lark or the people of Vale who tragically perished during the Breach, but punishing Miss Shimmer, banishing her from the school, from her team, might cause further death and devastation thanks to Miss Shimmer's absence."

Penny cringed a little. "Um … Professor—"

"So you let her go because of the lives that she might save?" Ruby demanded.

"Including the lives of you and your teammates, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin reminded her.

Ruby ignored that. That hadn't justified what Sunset had done, and it didn't justify what Professor Ozpin had not done either. "What about the lives that Sunset might have taken if she'd been put in that same situation again and made that same choice again?"

"In my judgement, Miss Shimmer would not make that choice again," Professor Ozpin replied. "By contrast, considering that Miss Shimmer saved Amber, and Miss Nikos, I think that my judgement that it was more prudent, as well as more charitable, to leave Miss Shimmer where she is has been vindicated by events."

"Professor—" Penny murmured.

"I don't buy that, Professor, not for one moment," Ruby insisted, taking another step forward. "You're arguing from things that have happened but which you had no way of knowing would happen; it's no better than Sunset saying that she didn't think Vale would fall when she made her choice down in that tunnel; just because Vale didn't fall doesn't make it okay, and just because Sunset did a couple of good things—"

"Miss Rose," General Ironwood said firmly, "you've made your point. You're on the verge of making it repeatedly. If you were addressing me, you would stand on the threshold of Disrespect."

Ruby swallowed. That might be the first crack of ice beneath her feet, but she was fast approaching the point where she was past caring. "What Sunset did was wrong—"

"Yeah," Uncle Qrow said. "Yeah, it was. But truth is, out in the real world, out in the field, we don't always have the luxury of keeping our consciences spotlessly clean. Especially not in this fight."

Ruby blinked. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that when you fight in the shadows, you're going to end up getting dirty," Qrow declared. He walked towards her. "Now, I've never worked with anyone who put a whole city in danger before — unless you count Raven — but I—" He glanced at Professor Ozpin. "Can I tell her about my little trip?"

Professor Ozpin hesitated for a moment, before he nodded silently.

"Thanks," Qrow muttered. He returned his attention to Ruby. "I'm off to Mistral in the morning, on some business for Oz; your teammates can tell you why, it's based on what we learned from that Cinder girl. The point is, when I get to Mistral, my contacts aren't fancy old blood types with mansions up at the top of the hill, they're a bunch of lowlifes; huntsmen, sure, but they moonlight as enforces for the criminal gangs; some of them are just straight up crooks themselves."

Ruby licked her lips. "Are any of them … murderers?"

Uncle Qrow took his flask out of his pocket and took a swig from it. "They've killed, at least some of them have. I never asked why or whatever. Some things, it's better not to know if you have to work with someone."

"Why?" Ruby asked. "Why do you have to work with them?"

"Because I'm not just a fighter; I'm a spy," Uncle Qrow said. "This job isn't always fighting Salem's agents, it's not always being the shining hero taking out the bad guys; sometimes, it's keeping my ears open, hearing things on the wind, gathering rumours and whispers and putting the pieces together. Sometimes, it's paying attention to who's been flashing their money around in the criminal underworld, who's trying to buy dust — or hire people to steal it. To do my job, I need to deal with the same kind of shady people that our enemies do, because I guarantee that they aren't holding their noses at the thought of getting their consciences dirty like that. And when it comes to someone like your friend—"

"She's not my friend," Ruby said firmly.

Qrow winced. "Sorry, but when it comes to someone like her … suppose that Salem got hold of her? Then what would she do?"

"Sunset wouldn't do that," Penny declared. "Sunset would never, that's not … Sunset made a mistake, but that's not who she is."

"Seems like she's made who she is pretty clear," Qrow said harshly. "But that's my point: sometimes, for the sake of the mission, for the sake of protecting the world, for the sake of everyone who gets to sleep sound in their bed at night, we have to deal with, or even work with, people we find disgusting."

Ruby couldn't help but notice that that didn't really line up with anything that Professor Ozpin had said. Although, even if Professor Ozpin had said it, she wasn't sure how much she would have liked to hear it. It certainly wasn't something that anyone had mentioned to her before she went to Beacon.

"You've never talked about that sort of thing before," she said softly.

"Of course not!" Qrow exclaimed. "I just told you it was disgusting. You think I want you thinking about me like that? I don't really want to think about myself like that, and I didn't want you having to think about yourself like that, but … if you're going to be a part of this, then at some point you and Yang will have to learn — and accept — that you don't get to wear shining armour for very long in this circle. Sooner or later, you'll have to blacken it up for the sake of the mission.

"It doesn't make what Sunset did okay, but it does make Oz's decision … I get it. It might not seem like the right call, but that's how it has to be sometimes. We're defending the world here; we don't get the luxury of scruples about how we do it."

That struck home, given that it was what Ruby herself had thought on the way up here: you couldn't be willing to sacrifice lives for the sake of the cause, but not be willing to sacrifice principles.

She just hadn't considered that the principle she might be called upon to sacrifice was 'don't work with people who cause the deaths of innocent people.'

She was beginning to see the appeal to taking a firm stand and declaring that, no, your principles were worth more than anything else, even the world.

But then that led to Sunset's choice down in the tunnel: my friends are my principles, and I won't give them up.

The other way around, rather: my principles are my friends, and I'll let Vale burn for their sake.

Ruby didn't want to be the same as Sunset. She wasn't the same as Sunset; she was capable of making sacrifices if required.

But this sacrifice? This felt … surely, there had to be limits?

Uncle Qrow having made his opinions firmly known — and while Ruby didn't altogether like them, she could understand how he came by them … she wondered how many of his principles he had sacrificed for the sake of this battle and what it had cost him to do it?

How much had he been keeping from them? How many scars had he been hiding?

She would have given him a hug except … it didn't really seem appropriate in the circumstances.

But he had made his opinions clear, and so Ruby looked to Professor Goodwitch, who had given some indications that she was more on Ruby's side.

Professor Goodwitch spoke with a slight sigh in her voice. "I'm sorry that you had to experience this, Miss— Ruby. Betrayal, as we are all learning tonight, as some of us have learned before, is a very bitter wound. I fear the sting of it will not leave you for some time." She paused. "You're being very brave."

"Thank you, Professor," Ruby said softly. "I don't think getting upset would really help anybody right now."

Professor Goodwitch smiled. "Nor will keeping everything inside until you can't contain it anymore. Just remember that my door is always open if you need to talk."

"About anything?" Ruby asked.

"Anything you wish," Professor Goodwitch replied. "It will all stay between us."

"I appreciate that, Professor," Ruby said.

"But if you are expecting … I must tell you that Qrow has the right of it," Professor Goodwitch. "I am privileged by my position to be able to escape what your uncle has to deal with, but I am not blind to the fact that this is a desperate battle in which we are engaged."

"So doesn't that mean that we need to be sure that everyone who's fighting it with us is of the right quality?" Ruby asked. "I know that we might need to use … informers, or whatever, who aren't the best or the nicest people, but on our side? Fighting at our side? Leading us into battle?"

Professor Goodwitch hesitated for a moment. "Miss Shimmer … would not have been my choice, by any means, to be a part of this struggle, but ultimately, the decision belongs to Professor Ozpin. After a certain point, we must cease to question that decision and simply abide by it. As we all must, I'm afraid, abide by the presence of Sunset Shimmer."

"But she's gone," Penny blurted out.

The room fell as quiet as it had done when Ruby had first revealed that she knew the truth about what Sunset had done — and about Professor Ozpin's knowledge of the same.

Professor Ozpin half rose to his feet, his hands resting upon the glass surface of his desk. "'Gone'?" he repeated. "Gone where?"

"I don't know," Ruby said. "And I don't care. You might be willing to just turn a blind eye to what she did, but I couldn't. I sent her away."

Qrow groaned. "Ruby—"

"You had no authority to do that, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin said, his voice sharpening.

"Maybe not," Ruby admitted. "But I had the right. I had the right that was on my side. Someone like that … work with her if you want to, but she doesn't belong at Beacon Academy, amongst huntresses." She looked at Qrow. "Maybe I will have to get dirty in order to do my job, in order to protect people, to keep the world safe, but I don't have to like it, and I don't have to welcome it, and I don't have to go to school with it either. And I … I won't!" She returned her attention to Professor Ozpin. "I won't share a room with her, I won't share a school with her. If Sunset comes back to Beacon, I'm gone. I can't swallow that, I won't. Not at … Beacon isn't the war against Salem. Beacon isn't in the shadows. Beacon … Beacon should be shining, like its name. It might be necessary to fight Salem in the dark, but darkness has no place here at this school."

She was aware that he might choose Sunset over her. Honestly, a part of Ruby expected that he would pick Sunset over her, and if he did … then she would leave, just as she had said she would. She would leave, and ask Iona Rockshow if she still had a place in her organisation for an academy drop-out, but one whose heart, whose soul, whose principles were still the same as when Miss Rockshow had made her that offer in the Lord Mayor's Palace.

She hoped that it wouldn't come to that, but she was prepared for the fact that it might.

Professor Ozpin glanced downwards. "Very well, Miss Rose," he murmured. "Miss Shimmer is … dismissed, from the school, at least."

Ruby's eyes widened a little. It … he had chosen her? He had chosen her?

"Thank you, Professor," she whispered.

"Please don't thank me, Miss Rose; I take no joy in this at all," Professor Ozpin muttered. "But it seems that the matter has been taken out of my hands." He paused. "You should be thankful that, as I have said, I am a great believer in mercy." He looked away from her, towards Professor Goodwitch. "Glynda, in the morning, will you please find Miss Shimmer — I expect courtesy to lead her to call upon Lady Nikos, so I suggest you start there — and tell her that, if it is at all convenient for her, I should very much like to retain her services in the great enterprise in which we are engaged. Tell her that some means to assist her in living can be found and please tell her how sorry I am that things have come to this."

"Of course, Professor," Professor Goodwitch said stiffly. "It will be as you say."

Ruby said nothing. She was in doubt that, as well as giving order to Professor Goodwitch, Professor Ozpin had also been speaking for her … benefit, for want of a better word. He had been letting her know that, although he was willing to go along with her up to a point, he didn't like it, and he was also reminding her that, at the end of the day, he was in charge, and she wasn't, and he was going to follow his own judgement as to who was fit to serve him in his battle against Salem, not hers.

She supposed she couldn't complain about that … at all, really. She didn't like it, but Uncle Qrow had just made clear that he had to work with people who he didn't really like having to work with, people who made him feel dirty, who stained him with their own sins. He'd made clear to her that that was the price of keeping the world safe, and a heavy price, for all that the scars it left weren't visible. Professor Ozpin thought that Sunset had a lot to offer, he'd thought that it was worth keeping her at Beacon, and he thought that, at the very least, it was worth keeping her in the fight against Salem.

Maybe he was even right about the last part; Sunset was skilled, she was smart; if you trusted her, then Ruby could see why you would want her around.

Ruby didn't — couldn't — trust her anymore, but as Professor Ozpin had just reminded her, she wasn't the boss.

Ruby had been willing to insist that Sunset didn't belong at Beacon, and Professor Ozpin had given her that, even though he didn't agree with her; she couldn't now insist that he cut all ties with her, not least because…

Well, not least because Professor Ozpin might actually be right. Maybe lives would be saved by Sunset in future. Maybe.

And if she continued to press the subject, if she continued to insist that Sunset had no place amongst them at all, then it would be her that was crossing the line, putting her principles ahead of the greater good.

Sunset was gone from Beacon; that was the main thing. Let her do what she could, where she could; Ruby just hoped that their paths didn't cross again.

"But … who is going to lead Team Sapphire?" asked Penny.

Professor Ozpin sat down again. He looked at Ruby.

Ruby's back straightened.

Professor Ozpin glanced at General Ironwood. "James, I know that this is irregular, but may I please borrow Miss Polendina to make up the numbers on Team … Team Sapphire, as we shall continue to call it for now? I wouldn't ask, but Miss Polendina is transferring to Beacon anyway, so—"

"It's fine," General Ironwood assured him. "It's not as though I haven't been stealing Belladonna for a while now. Turnabout is fair play, after all."

"Thank you, James," Professor Ozpin said. He paused for a moment. "Miss Polendina, welcome to Team Sapphire. I would like you to take the lead for now."

"Penny?!" Ruby cried.

"Me?" Penny exclaimed. "You … you want … this isn't very funny Professor Ozpin!"

Professor Ozpin didn't even blink. "And what makes you think that I am joking, Miss Polendina?"

"Because I can't be the leader!" Penny cried. "I … I don't know how."

"Very few people do, when they begin to lead," Professor Ozpin told her. "But this is, after all, a place of learning." He smiled. "And you have shown a willingness to learn, Miss Polendina, to grow, to change; if you had not, you would not be transferring to Beacon at all. But you are, and you have, and that is one of the most important qualities for a leader to possess."

Penny hesitated for a second. "What are some of the other important qualities for a leader to possess?"

"A sense of connection to your teammates, which I know you possess," Professor Ozpin replied, "and a willingness to help them; that last remains to be seen, but I have hope."

"Congratulations, Penny," General Ironwood said, offering her a slight bow from the waist.

"Um, thank you, General," Penny murmured, curtsying a little to him in return. "I … I don't know if I'm ready for this, but I'll try my best! I promise, I'll do my very best; I won't give you reason to regret this."

"Thank you, Miss Polendina, I am sure that I shall not," Professor Ozpin said. "Was there anything else, Miss Rose?"

Is this my punishment? Are you doing this to spite me? Is this because you didn't like what I did? "No, Professor," Ruby said, in a dull voice. "That's all. Thank you." She could not stop — she might not have wished to stop — the bitterness creeping into her voice.

"Then I wish you good night, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin said. "Miss Polendina."

"Goodnight, Professor," Penny said. "Goodnight, everyone."

"Goodnight," Ruby muttered, as she turned to go, letting Penny follow behind her — leader or not — as she walked with slow, heavy, trudging steps back towards the elevator.

As she made her way into the lift, her thoughts were not in Professor Ozpin's office. Nor were they in the elevator itself as it began to grind its way downwards, carrying her and Penny—

Her new team leader, Penny.

Down towards the ground.

Ruby's thoughts were all in her own mind, moving as fast as her semblance.

Penny, the team leader. Penny, the team leader. Penny, who was still just a kid really, Penny who barely understood anything, Penny who was still figuring out the world, Penny who didn't really understand what it took to be a good huntress, Penny—

Penny her friend.

Penny who had been here for her, who was literally right here for her.

Penny who hadn't asked for this.

Penny who didn't deserve to be the target of Ruby's ire.

Perhaps it's time to admit that I did want to be the leader.

Okay. I wanted to be the leader.

I wanted to show that I was right. I wanted to show that I could do a better job than Sunset, that my way, the right way, was … well, that it was the right way.

I wanted to show that the right way was also the righteous one.

I wanted to show that I could do it, just like my mom did.

Except Professor Ozpin already told me that he thought that making Mom the team leader was a mistake, and he wished he'd given the job to somebody else, so I guess it was always unlikely that he was going to give it to me.

But still … why
Penny?

Penny had been looking away from Ruby, shoulders hunched a little bit, hands clasped together, looking as though she were trying to appear inconspicuous. Her green eyes flickered towards Ruby, as she noticed Ruby looking at her. "Ruby?" she asked. "Is … is everything okay? I didn't know that he was going to—"

"You don't have to apologise, Penny," Ruby assured her. "In fact, I'm the one who should be apologising to you."

Penny looked at her, blinking. "Apologise to me? But why?"

"For not doing this sooner," Ruby said, as she pulled Penny into a hug. "Congratulations, Penny. This is going to be great, I know it."
 
Chapter 66 - Confidence
Confidence


There was a knock on the door.

"I'll get it," Rainbow said as she got up off the bed and strode across the dorm room. She grabbed the door handle in one hand and pulled the door open.

Penny stood on the other side of the door, alone.

"Hey, Penny," Rainbow said, leaning sideways a little bit to look around Penny for any evidence of Ruby — or anyone else, for that matter. "No Ruby with you?"

"Uh … no," Penny murmured. "No, she's gone back to her — to the dorm room. Um…" She pressed her forefingers together. "Can I come in?"

Rainbow took a step back. "It's still your room, Penny; you can come in if you want to."

"Well, actually…" Penny started, but then trailed off, walking in without saying anything. Shutting the door without saying anything too, and doing so quietly, as if she was trying not to make a noise.

"Good evening, Penny," Ciel said. "We were not expecting you."

"How did it go?" asked Blake. "With Professor Ozpin."

"Is Sunset coming back?" asked Rainbow Dash. The best that could be hoped for, in Rainbow's opinion, was for Professor Ozpin to give Ruby a talking to and set her straight about all of this; since he had known all about what Sunset had done and decided to give her a pass on it, that shouldn't be that hard.

What Sunset had done … what Sunset had done…

"I … sir, I wasn't … the grimm, there were … I wasn't fast enough. I'm sorry, sir."

"You did your best, Dash. Everyone knows that. I know that."

If I'd done my best, sir, he'd still be here.


There was nothing glorious about dying. You could stick someone's picture up on These Are My Jewels until it fell off or turned to mush or blew away in the wind; you could remember them for as long as your memory lasted; you could hold their memories close, but they were still gone, and their loss … their loss was still a tragedy. There were times when Rainbow didn't understand how someone who had lost their mother so young couldn't get that.

Rainbow could tell herself that there were things that she would die for, if pushed to it; she would die for Blake, for Twilight, for Applejack or Pinkie or Fluttershy or Rarity; she would die for Ciel if she had to, and as awful as it was to admit it, if that train had been rattling down the line towards Atlas, she probably would have taken a much dimmer view of Sunset's actions because Atlas was home and heart, while Vale was … not those things, but even with that list, she wouldn't go looking for ways to sacrifice herself because, like she'd told Sunset, you could only give your life once, so you had an obligation to make it count because you weren't going to get a do-over if it turned out that you'd wasted your sacrifice.

If Cinder had let the grimm eat all of them before she blew up the mine anyway, then they'd all feel pretty stupid in the next life, wouldn't they?

And someone would have had to tell Apple Bloom that she was never going to see her big sister again.

Like I had to tell the General that I was too late to save his son. The look in his eyes, that was … she would never forget that look, the way that his eyes had darkened visibly before her own, the way the light had left them.

She was so, so very glad that Apple Bloom hadn't had to go through that; she was more glad than … than she could say.

What Sunset had done … okay, maybe they had responsibilities to the people of Vale, but what about their responsibilities to the people that they had led into that situation, that incredibly messed-up situation? Especially when Vale had General Ironwood and Professor Ozpin looking out for it, the only people who Applejack and Blake and Pyrrha and Jaune and, yes, Ruby had had looking out for them down in that tunnel were Sunset and Rainbow Dash.

What Sunset had done … okay, Ruby, you win, pulling the trigger herself was not the best thing that Sunset could have done. She ought to have called Cinder's bluff and made her pull the trigger herself, get the blood on her hands. But at the same time, Rainbow didn't think that Sunset needed to regret it the way that she did, and she didn't like the way that Ruby just declared it to be the worst thing ever in that tone that brooked no argument.

What Sunset had done, she had done for the sake of her team, she had done for the sake of the people that she loved, and she had done it all, moreover, because she was scared, because she was in a situation that she hadn't wanted to be in in the first place, and Cinder yammering away in her ears probably hadn't helped either.

Sunset had made a mistake. There, Rainbow had said it, but that didn't mean that it wasn't an even bigger mistake to do what Ruby had done all on her high horse, full of self-righteousness, and kick Sunset out over that mistake because nobody good would ever do anything like that.

Like good people never made mistakes.

Like the best people never made mistakes.

It wasn't a reason to throw them out on their ear afterwards. And Sunset … Team Sapphire, or whatever it ended up being called next, was better off with Sunset as some part of it than not. Whatever mistakes she had made, Rainbow believed that.

What Ruby had done was a loss to her team, and if Professor Ozpin made her see that — or at least accept it — then so much the better, as far as Rainbow Dash was concerned.

"Rainbow Dash?" Penny asked. "Are you okay?"

"What?" Sorry," Rainbow said, shaking her head. "Was I thinking too much?" She grinned. "First time for everything, right?"

Penny cocked her head to one side. "Are you okay?"

"I … no, not really," Rainbow admitted. "This whole business with Sunset, it's … it's got me thinking about stuff. Some stuff that I would rather not think about."

"What kind of stuff?" asked Penny.

"I don't think—" Blake began.

"A death," Rainbow said, her voice turning a little hoarse. "A … friend. Before your time." She frowned. "Penny, will you make me a promise? I know that I don't have any claim on you, none of us do, I know that we aren't your real friends, but … please. For … Please. Promise me something."

Penny cocked her head to one side. "What?"

"There's nothing grand and glorious about death, Penny," Rainbow declared. "And don't let Ruby convince you otherwise." She paused for a moment. "When it's an hour to play and the last man in, the last man fights to win the game regardless, and that's how the schoolboy rallies the ranks, when Atlas is far off, and honour is a word. So fight to win and fight to live. Promise me that, Penny, you won't just give up and decide that it's nobler or braver or anything else to quit. Promise me, Penny, that you'll fight to live, even if that means living to fight another day rather than going out in a blaze of glory. Because it won't be glorious, not really, especially not for the people you leave behind."

"I … I don't know what you're asking me," Penny replied. "I won't abandon my friends—"

"I'm not asking you to do that!" Rainbow said. "It's partly for your friends that I'm asking this, just … before you lie down and die, at least promise me that you'll think about everything else that you could do instead; that's all I'm really asking for."

"Oh," Penny said. "Well, of course I can promise you that, that's easy!"

"I hope so," Rainbow muttered. "But, anyway, leaving that aside, how did it go?"

Penny's face fell. "Sunset isn't coming back."

"That was always an unlikely outcome," Ciel said. "Leaving aside whether it was desirable."

"I mean, Professor Ozpin knew what she'd done, and he was fine with her sticking around," Rainbow pointed out.

"Did he say why he'd done that?" Blake asked. "Let Sunset stay, I mean."

"He had a few reasons," Penny said. "He said that he thought that Sunset would do more good here at Beacon than anywhere else."

"That's what I said!" Rainbow exclaimed. "Did he mention Amber?"

"Yes, he did," Penny replied.

"Right?" Rainbow cried. "Team Sapphire, and all of us, are better off with Sunset inside the tent instead of … wherever she ends up."

"Six people in Vale are not better off," Ciel pointed out.

"I never said she didn't make any mistakes," Rainbow replied. "But just because someone has made a mistake doesn't mean that they aren't good and useful to have around. And besides, you saw how Sunset was; does that seem like the kind of person who would do the same thing over again?"

Ciel hesitated for a moment. "How did General Ironwood take it, when he discovered the truth?"

"I don't really know," Penny admitted. "He didn't show much of a reaction. He just kind of stood there. But he stopped Ruby when she started to make the same point to Professor Ozpin over again. He said that she was almost showing disrespect."

"I see," Ciel murmured. "Doubtless, it is the general's respect for Professor Ozpin that prevents him from expressing a view. What is done is done, after all, and wringing of hands and verbal rebukes will not change anything."

"You could say the same thing about Sunset," Rainbow pointed out.

"There is a difference between keeping quiet about something that another has done and actually doing the thing," replied Ciel. "One must allow others their opinions, after all; Professor Ozpin has his view, shared by you, that Sunset's utility in the fight against Salem is worth covering up her actions. That is … a view, I suppose. On a strict judgement of utility, severed from all other considerations, I would be hard put to disagree, although I would rather not sever the moral considerations completely."

"Ruby's uncle says he sometimes has to work with criminals," Penny said. "Murderers and thieves, in Mistral and the like."

"That would explain why he is dressed like one," Ciel muttered. "Nevertheless, I would prefer to have some standards. My point is, whether or not the business should have been concealed by those who knew of it is a question over which I can concede that people may reasonably disagree. The doing of the business itself, I am afraid is not."

She paused. "Nevertheless, I am not blind to your concerns. I fear that, in Sunset's absence, Team Sapphire may prove more fragile than it might seem."

"That partly depends on whether they stay at three people," Rainbow said. "Pyrrha's great, and Ruby's a good shot, and Jaune has that semblance … but he's also not that great in a fight, even with that new sword and all the work that Pyrrha's put into him, so … they could do with a fourth person."

She looked at Penny. As much as Sunset's departure was to be regretted, there was at least one way in which it solved the problem of what Penny would do at Beacon next year. After all, everyone had been thinking about how it would be great if Penny could join Team SAPR with her friends, and now, there was a spot available.

I'm sure Sunset wouldn't mind. She'd probably mind a lot less than anyone else who might take her place.

"Did they say anything about the future of the team?" asked Twilight.

Penny nodded. "They … Professor Ozpin asked me to join Team … Team Sapphire, seeing as I'm going to transfer to Beacon anyway."

"Result!" Rainbow said. "Congratulations, Penny."

Penny looked up at her. "Should I be happy?"

"Maybe not, in the circumstances," Rainbow admitted. "But, you know, you can still admit that this is a good thing for you. This means that you won't have to worry about making new friends, about being put into a team that doesn't get you or appreciate you. You'll be in the bosom of the people who love you best of all."

"But I didn't want it like this!" Penny cried.

Rainbow put a hand on Penny's shoulder. "I get that, Penny, believe me. We all get that. But we aren't always fortunate enough to get exactly what we want in precisely the way we want it, so it's important to remember the bits of good luck that we have; otherwise, you just end up getting overwhelmed by all the bad."

"But maybe don't seem too pleased in the circumstances," Blake murmured. "So, who's going to be the leader of this team? Is it Ruby, as she thought, or is it Pyrrha?"

"It…" Penny bowed her head. "It's me."

"It's you?" Rainbow repeated. "S—" She bit that back before she could actually say it, because judging by the way that Penny was standing there and hanging her head like a tired out old horse, she hadn't come here in order to be put down on her fitness for leadership. And, you know, why not Penny? Maybe she wasn't everyone's idea of what a leader should be, but neither was Trixie, and she was a pretty good team leader.

The one thing that concerned Rainbow Dash about Penny's ability to lead the team was whether or not she could fake it. Penny, bless her, wore her heart on her sleeve, which wasn't a bad thing by any means, but as leader that was something she couldn't always afford.

Could she put it away?

Time would tell, Rainbow supposed. At the very least, she ought to be given the chance.

Rainbow grinned. "Why didn't you say so earlier, Penny? Congratulations!" She put her hands on her hips. "How does it feel?"

"Terrifying," Penny said. "Professor Ozpin said that I'd do fine, and I promised him that I'd do my best, but … I don't know the first thing about being a leader! And Professor Ozpin said that was fine because I'm here at a school to learn—"

"A very valid point."

"But what if we have to go on a mission, like to Mountain Glenn or something?" Penny asked. "What if I have to actually step up?" She paused. "That's why I came here, to see you. I … I was hoping that you could give me some advice."

"Well, every leader is different, Penny," Rainbow said. "That's lesson number one." She held up one finger of her right hand. "You won't be a good leader if you just try and copy someone else, even a successful leader, because part of being a good leader is using what makes you you and making it work for you. Yes, even though there is an element of faking it — which we'll get to in a second — you can't be too obvious a fake, or everyone will see through it, and nobody will take you seriously. You have to find a style that feels like an extension of your personality."

Penny blinked. "But what does that mean?"

"It means that you are friendly, outgoing, and kind-hearted," Ciel said. "And your leadership should seek to reflect and make use of those qualities, not hide them."

"Exactly; if you tried to act like a hard-ass in front of Ruby or Pyrrha or Jaune, it would be ridiculous, not least because they know that isn't you," Rainbow said. "Luckily, you're already their friend, so you've got that covered, and you don't need to stop being their friend just because you're their leader, you … leadership needs to be believed, that's the most important thing. Ninety percent of leadership is convincing other people: that you know what you're doing, that their lives are safe in your hands, that you know how to win, how to get to where you need to go. And to be convincing, it needs to feel like it came from you."

"But what about strategy, and—?"

"That's lesson number two," Rainbow said, adding a second finger. "Don't feel like you have to do everything yourself; you have a team so that you can rely on them and use their strengths as well as your own. If there's someone on your team who is a good strategist, use that, use Pyrrha to take the lead in battle while you support from the mid-range, use Ruby to scout ahead. Or don't; you're the leader, so you can make your own judgement about who is best placed where, but the point is that you don't need to know everything; you just need to know who can do what.

"Which brings us to lesson number three," Rainbow went on, raising the third finger on her hand. "Confidence. You can't be nervous, you can't be afraid … okay, let me unpack that one a little bit more; you can acknowledge that things are tough. In fact, it's essential that you do acknowledge it when things are tough, because — and this goes back to lesson one again — if you pretend like everything is cool and it's all going to be a breeze, then you'll just come over like you're full of it when the going gets tough, and nobody will take you seriously. That's why part two of every speech has to be about how things aren't that great."

"Really?"

"Yes, every speech has to have five paragraphs saying pretty much the same thing in the same order," Rainbow informed her. "They're kind of boring … but it's been that way for like a thousand years or more, so I guess there's a good reason why it hasn't changed in all that time. Anyway, the point is, while you have to acknowledge that things are rough, you also have to — you absolutely have to — make sure that everyone knows that they're going to get through this. Because you have the plan. Because you have advantages."

"What if we don't—?"

"If you don't have some advantages, Penny, you shouldn't be fighting," Rainbow said. "Call that lesson number four. You should always know how and why you are going to win a fight, and then your job as leader is to make sure your team knows it too. So, no offence, no more of this slumping your shoulders and clasping your hands together stuff." She clasped Penny by the shoulders. "But really, being a leader isn't all that hard. Just keep your chin up, and it'll all be fine. You'll do great, I promise."

XxXxX​

Confidence.

Confidence.

Rainbow's words rang in Penny's ears as she walked down the corridor towards the Team SA—

Towards her dorm room. Her dorm room. She was a part of Team SAPR now.

She was the leader of Team SAPR.

To be a part of this team was a dream come true.

To lead it was the last thing she wanted.

And she wasn't even allowed to say so because a good leader was confident.

Most of the time, anyway.

It probably wouldn't be a good start if she went into the dorm room and started moaning or moping or … other things that might or might not start with an M.

Confidence.

But confidence in what?

Even the dream of her joining Team SAPR had been … well, the fact that it wasn't really Team SAPR anyway kind of put a damper on things. Maybe the name would change — Penny supposed that it would have to, although even to think about it at this point felt wrong, felt wrong on a deep, endoskeletal level, as though she were in a rush to jump into Sunset's grave and she wasn't even dead — but even if it didn't, it still wouldn't be quite the same team that Penny had dreamed of joining.

Not without Sunset.

Yes, she had done a bad thing, but all the same … she was Penny's friend. And Penny would miss her.

Perhaps they would see each other again. Penny hoped so, although Ruby probably wouldn't feel the same way.

In the meantime…

In the meantime, Penny was supposed to lead Sunset's team.

With confidence, if she could find any.

She had to find some. She had to do her best; she had to do better than her best, she had to do a good job, not only for Ruby and Jaune and Pyrrha, but also for Sunset too.

Sunset would want her friends to be in safe hands.

Penny remembered Mountain Glenn; she remembered when they had still been above ground, before they had descended down into the dark; in particular, Penny remembered the way that Sunset had gone down the line, with a few words for everyone to make them feel better. It seemed that Sunset hadn't been feeling that great herself, considering what she had done afterwards, but all the same, she had made everyone else feel better, including Penny herself.

Now, it was Penny's job to make everyone feel better.

She just had to find the words.

Penny thrust her shoulders back — maybe a little too far back; it felt as though she was about to fall over — as she approached the door.

Her door.

She could do this. She could do this for Sunset and everyone else. She had found her freedom, and her Freedom; she had done everything that she had ever wanted to. She could do this too.

Confidence.

Father, I may not be showing off everything that I can do in the Colosseum the way you wanted, but if I can make a success of this, if I can do this the way that Professor Ozpin thinks I can, then … that'll be worth more to me.

And maybe, if you find out about it, it'll mean something to you too.


It would definitely mean something to Dad. He would be overjoyed when she told him about it; it was a pity that she didn't have time to call him and tell him, but she didn't. She'd already delayed enough by going to talk to Rainbow Dash. If she waited any longer, then they might start to think she was scared.

It was the same reason she couldn't call Sunset — that, and she might be driving and Penny didn't want to cause an accident.

No, she couldn't stand here — or anywhere else, for that matter — calling other people to tell them the good news or getting their advice on how to do this.

She just had to do it.

With confidence.

What would Sunset do?

No … what will
I do?

Penny opened the door and stepped into the— into her dorm room.

Everyone else was already there; her friends were already there, her teammates were already there, her … the members of her team were already there.

And Amber, of course.

And Dove too. Penny hadn't been sure whether he would still be here or not. She didn't mind Dove, not by any means; he seemed like a perfectly nice young man, and Amber clearly liked him a lot — in some ways, he reminded her of Jaune, and not just because they were both blond with blue eyes, although there was that too — but at the same time, Penny couldn't really that she knew him very well.

He was around, but she didn't feel uncomfortable having him around, but at the same time, this might have been a little easier without him here.

But she wasn't going to ask him to go; that wouldn't have been very nice.

Amber was sitting on Sunset's bed, holding onto Sunset's stuffed unicorn — Amber's stuffed unicorn now, the same way that Sunset's team was now Penny's team — with both arms, while Dove sat next to her, one arm around her shoulders. Pyrrha and Jaune were sat much the same way, only without the stuffed unicorn; Pyrrha was resting her head on Jaune's shoulder. Ruby was sat in the window seat, except that she got up when Penny came in.

Everyone looked at her as the door shut behind her.

Confidence.

"Salutations," Penny said, because Rainbow had told her that it was best to be herself — well, sort of, mostly; it seemed like it kind of depended; she had to fake it a little bit but not be too fake, and so … salutations.

She couldn't quite say it with her usual enthusiasm, however; that wouldn't have felt right, and she couldn't have managed it anyway.

It was hard work being a leader, wasn't it? Even a word was a hard choice.

Don't hesitate. Don't hesitate. Get it all out in one go. "I don't know if you've heard—"

"Ruby told us," Jaune said. "You're the new team leader now, right?"

"That's right," Penny said. "Professor Ozpin has asked me to lead Team— to lead this team. F—" She stopped herself from saying 'for now, anyway.' That might not have seemed very confident.

Pyrrha raised her head off Jaune's shoulder. "I suppose … it feels as though congratulations are in order, and yet, at the same time, it does not … if it does not upset you to say so."

Penny smiled, but only a little bit. "I understand, Pyrrha." She did what she'd seen Pyrrha do on TV once, which was to speak kind of slowly so that she had more time to think about what she was going to say before she said it without actually seeming to need to stop and think. Penny had thought that was pretty clever at the time, and it would certainly come in handy now. "There was a time, until very, very recently, when I would have loved to have been a part of this team. I still do love the fact that I get to be a part of this team. Ever since I met the three of you — Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune — you've all been so kind to me. You've offered me nothing but kindness, respect, and friendship. To be honest, you were the main reason why I wanted to come to Beacon in the first place. I didn't want to go back to Atlas and be without you, even though I didn't know exactly where in this school I'd end up. The idea that I'd end up here, with you, it would have seemed like the most amazing thing in the world.

"It still is amazing. But things are different now. Things are different, and I'm not going to pretend that they're not. I'm not going to pretend that I don't miss Sunset, and I'm sure that some of you miss her as well, because Sunset was all of our friend, or at least, I think she tried to be.

"I didn't want this. I didn't want to take Sunset's place, I didn't want to be the leader of this team. But Professor Ozpin has asked me to be your leader, and I know that if we work together, if we work as hard as you've all worked up until now, then we can still be the great team that Team Sapphire was before."

Now Penny paused; she had to pause for a second because even speaking slowly, she'd run out of things to say. No, wait, no, she hadn't! No, there was something else.

"I know that none of you asked for me to be your leader," Penny said, "but now that I am your leader, if you'll follow me, I promise that I'll give one hundred percent — which is the maximum that you can give, in spite of the way people talk about a hundred and ten percent, by the way — to serving you and to being the team leader that you deserve. Because you guys are all amazing. You're the most precious people in the whole world to me."

"Don't say that," Ruby said sharply.

Penny blinked. She'd been hoping for a more supportive reaction, to be honest. "Huh?"

"Don't say that," Ruby repeated. "Sunset … Sunset thought that, and it led her astray. The people come first, and the mission, not us."

Penny didn't say anything to that. She felt as though she should, she almost felt as though … she felt a little bit annoyed that Ruby had said that, to be honest. She supposed that she could understand why, but it also felt as though Ruby was deliberately challenging her. No, no, Ruby wouldn't do that, would she? Not after what she'd said in the elevator; she'd seemed so supportive.

So why was she trying to cut Penny down now?

Probably, she wasn't; probably, she was just afraid that Penny would end up making the same mistakes that Sunset did.

That didn't mean that it helped Penny to say it like that.

Penny knew, or thought she knew, that she needed to say something, to reply to Ruby, but … but she couldn't think. What was she supposed to say? Was she supposed to take back what she'd said? But what would it mean if she did?

Pyrrha got to her feet, with one hand smoothing out her sash. "I…" She glanced at Ruby. "I accept your words in the spirit in which they were intended, Penny," she said. "Good words, and gracious." She paused for a second. "It is a weighty promise that you have just made to us."

"I'm not Sunset," Penny said. "You can speak normally to me if you want to."

Pyrrha laughed, and as she laughed, she covered her mouth with one hand. "Forgive me, Penny. It's just that there are times when it is very easy to slip into a higher register. Nevertheless … that is quite a promise."

"I wouldn't have made it if I didn't mean to keep it," Penny said.

Pyrrha nodded. "Then I, in turn, promise that while you remain our leader, I will follow you and fight at your command, with all the strength that is at mine."

She put her right over her heart and bowed from the waist, her ponytail falling down over her shoulder to touch the floor.

Penny stared. Pyrrha was bowing to her. Pyrrha was bowing to her. Pyrrha was bowing to her?

"Thank you," she whispered. Then she realised that a leader probably shouldn't whisper, and so, she raised her voice to say, "Let's do our best together."

Jaune smiled. "Glad to have you onboard, Penny," he said. "Welcome to Team Sa—" He stopped. "That's a good point. What are we calling ourselves now? Team—"

"Papyrus?" suggested Pyrrha.

"I was going to say Paper, but sure, I guess that would work too," Jaune said. "P-A-P-R, right?"

"A direct substitution makes sense," Pyrrha murmured. "Although there are alternatives … P-R-A-N for … prawn or praline." She looked at Penny. "Unless Professor Ozpin has already chosen a new name for us."

"No," Penny said, "he didn't, and I don't think that we should change the name. At least not yet. I suppose that we'll have to change it eventually, but I'm in no rush. I wanted to be a part of Team Sapphire, and if it's all the same to you, I'd like to be a part of Team Sapphire, at least for a little while."

Jaune frowned. "But it doesn't have your name in it."

"There are two Ps in Sapphire, aren't there?" Penny asked. "Or am I misspelling?"

"No, you aren't," Pyrrha said. "But as the leader—"

"Does it matter?" Penny asked. "Is it really that important? Is it really the most important thing going on right now?" She paused. "It's like Ciel's holy book sort of says: the rules were made for us; we weren't made for the rules. We can change them if we want to. We don't have to be bound by people telling us that this is the way things are, and the way they are is the way they have to be. If we did, then I wouldn't be here at all to be your leader, and we wouldn't be having this discussion. So, please, let's just stay Team Sapphire, with two Ps, for now. I don't want to feel like I've just stepped into Sunset's shoes. I don't want to feel like we're throwing her away and forgetting about her."

Ruby snorted. "Maybe we—"

"Ruby?" Penny asked, guessing what Ruby was about to say, but needing her to say it anyway if Penny — or anyone else, for that matter — was to answer.

Ruby glanced at Penny, out of the sides of her eyes, not looking directly at her. She looked out of the window. "It doesn't matter."

"Are you sure?" Penny asked, taking a step forward. "You can say it, if you want to."

"I know," Ruby said softly. "But I don't. It's fine. Team Sapphire is … a fine name. It's our name, no matter what … if that's what you want to stick with for now, then that's fine by me."

"If that is your wish, then we have no grounds to make objections," Pyrrha said. "I suppose it will make things easier on Professor Port and Doctor Oobleck tomorrow, and…"

Penny looked at her. "And what?"

Pyrrha blinked, and glanced downwards. "I suppose that these … that the allegations made against Sunset—"

"They're true," Ruby pointed out.

"Not as far as the rest of Vale is concerned, and must be concerned, no?" Pyrrha asked. "Sunset may be gone, but we must not concede that there was any truth in the words that drove her off, or … Professor Ozpin may escape without censure, his involvement being unknown, but First Councillor Emerald will be destroyed by this unless we all agree that all is false and groundless, no?"

"No, you're right," Ruby said, sounding a little bit like she was going to sigh, only she didn't. "I get that. That's why sending Sunset away was all I did, although even that might be too much for … was Rainbow right? Will people believe that Sunset's guilty because she's gone?"

"Does the answer change anything?" asked Jaune.

"The answer means that we should probably try and get ahead of it, think of something to explain why Sunset isn't here right now," Ruby said.

"She's … disappeared on solo missions before," Jaune pointed out.

Ruby looked at him. "So we lie to everyone?"

"Aren't we talking about how best we can lie to everyone?" Jaune replied. "About what Sunset did, about what the First Councillor knew? Hasn't he been lying to everyone, and we've accepted that it's for the best for Vale if nobody realises it? What's one more lie on top of that? Sunset's gone on a mission, she had to go, and then … maybe Ozpin will come up with something, but if he doesn't, then we can say that Sunset … decided that being a huntress wasn't right for her after all, and she dropped out of school. That happens sometimes, right? I don't know, but it feels like it must."

"It is not unheard of," Pyrrha murmured. "It feels like a calumny on Sunset, but—"

"Less than she deserves," Ruby declared.

Pyrrha didn't say anything, but Penny thought that a part of her wanted to.

"If … if Sunset is only gone on a mission," Dove said, speaking for the first time since Penny came in. "How are you going to explain Penny as the team leader?"

"You don't have to explain it," Penny said. "It can be our little secret for now. I hang out with you guys a lot anyway, so seeing me with you won't surprise anyone, and there'll be no need for a team leader in the next couple of days anyway."

"We hope, at least," said Pyrrha. "But are you sure about this? Hiding, lying?"

"It wouldn't be my first time," Penny reminded her, smiling a little. "Although I'm still not very good at actually lying, so if you could just not bring it up or get people to talk about something else, I'd really appreciate it."

"Very well," Pyrrha murmured. "If you're sure about this."

"Thanks, Penny," Ruby said. "I can't imagine it's as easy as you're making it sound, but … thanks. It'll be a big help."

"I understand," Penny said. "All of this is pretty complicated right now."

"And unfair on everyone," Amber said quietly.

"Everyone's doing the best that they can," Penny said. "That's all that we can do right now: do our best and cheer for Pyrrha in the tournament tomorrow."

Pyrrha sighed. "The tournament. It seems so far away now. Far away and unimportant."

"I guess," Penny admitted. "But I'd still really like to see you win."

Pyrrha smiled. "Is that so? Then I will do my best not to disappoint you."

"In which case, perhaps you'd better get some rest," Jaune suggested. "Perhaps we'd all better get some rest; it's been a long night."

"That's a good idea," Ruby agreed. "Things will look … I don't know if they'll look brighter in the morning, but they couldn't look worse than they do right now."

"Uh … speaking of sleep," Dove said. "I talked to Jaune earlier, and he agreed that I could spend the night here … when it seemed as though there was going to be a bed free."

It took Penny a second to work out what he meant. "Oh, don't worry; that'll be fine," she said. "You can still spend the night here; I don't need to sleep."

Dove frowned. "You … don't need to sleep? At all?"

"No," Penny said. "But don't worry about that either; I won't disturb anyone. I can be perfectly silent when necessary."

Dove blinked. "I … I don't understand."

"There are things about me that you don't know, you and Amber," Penny explained, "but if I'm going to be the leader of Team Sapphire, since I am the leader of Team Sapphire, perhaps you should know so that there aren't so many secrets between us: I'm a robot created by Atlesian scientists."

"A robot?" Dove repeated.

"What's a robot?" asked Amber.

"You know," Dove said. "The metal men on guard in the grounds outside?"

"The white ones?" Amber asked. "That make those stompy noises when they walk?"

"Yes," Dove said. "That's right."

"But Penny doesn't look anything like them," Amber said.

"There's more than one type of robot," Ruby pointed out.

"But they're machines, aren't they?" Amber said. "They aren't people, they're just … things! Penny has a semblance."

"Because I am a person," Penny said. "I'm a person and a robot too."

"But robots aren't people," Amber replied. "So how can you be a person and a robot?"

"Because I am?" Penny guessed.

It was a harder question to answer than it seemed, especially if you started with the assumptions that robots couldn't be people. Which seemed a little … unkind, although Penny knew that Amber didn't actually mean any unkindness by it. She supposed that Amber hadn't really come across any robots at all until very recently, growing up so far from Atlas.

"I have wires inside of me instead of blood vessels," she went on. "I have a metal endoskeleton instead of bones. But I also have aura and a semblance, and I feel…" Penny hesitated, which she knew that she shouldn't do as a leader but also couldn't help herself. "I feel everything. I feel the touch of a hand in mine; I feel the touch of the wind against my cheek, the fall of rain running through my hair and down my forehead. I feel the warmth of a hug from a friend, the warmth I feel towards all my friends, the love I feel towards them, because I feel love; I feel it inside every part of me. And if that's not enough to make me a person, then … I don't know what is."

Amber got up off the bed. "I didn't mean to offend you," she said.

"You didn't," Penny said, although she couldn't stop herself from hiccupping after she said it. "I know you didn't mean anything by it."

"All the same, I'm sorry," Amber said. "You are a person. A person who doesn't need to sleep, apparently."

"Nope!" Penny declared. "Because my batteries can be recharged from the mains. So you can keep Sunset's bed, and Dove can take … Sunset's other bed, and I'll be fine." She looked around the room. "I hope we'll all be fine, whatever the future holds for us."

And that includes you, too, Sunset.

Good luck, wherever you are, and wherever you go.


"You know," Jaune said, "things might be kind of complicated at the moment, but there is one thing that Penny can do right now."

"One thing?" Penny asked. "What's that?"

"You can put your initial on the wall with the rest of ours," Jaune said. "I mean, Blake did, and she wasn't even a real member of the team. So how about it? You want to stick a P up there?"

"Would I?" Penny cried. "Yes! Yes, I would; I absolutely would."

To join Team SAPR was a dream come true for her, but it was a dream that wasn't exactly turning out quite the way that she had dreamt it.

But this? This one part of her dream? This one part, tonight, could still come true.

And on a night that had turned very complicated, that was enough for her.
 
Chapter 67 - I Was Upset
I Was Upset


Aspen Emerald, First Councillor of Vale, did not particularly feel like the First Councillor of Vale as he drove along the deserted street towards Novo's home.

He could have been driven, but he preferred to drive himself, partly for discretion, partly because he didn't want to subject his driver to sitting outside Novo's house all night — what remained of the night — with quite possibly the worst elements of the gutter press for company, and partly because he welcomed the drive as a distraction from his thoughts.

As a distraction, it was only partly working.

Aspen's car was specially modified, a custom job with which he had indulged himself when he became Councillor for the Interior. After years of having to hunch his shoulders and bend his back and generally contort himself into uncomfortable and unhealthy postures because cars were not built to accommodate his antlers — yes, convertibles existed, but driving around with the roof down in the middle of a Valish fall or winter was not exactly ideal either — he had treated himself to a car with a specially raised roof so that he could actually sit up straight and barely feel his antlers touching the ceiling.

There was still the issue that the car wasn't quite wide enough for someone to comfortably sit in the passenger seat next to him, but the lanes of the road constrained how wide a car could be.

Besides, he hadn't had anyone to sit in the front with him since Birch died.

Although there were times…

Aspen flicked the switch to indicate as he turned left, although there was no one to see it or, indeed, to notice if he didn't. Since her abrupt departure from office, Novo had, despite talking about returning to her family home in Mount Aris, lived in her brownstone townhouse in the affluent central suburb of Carabas, a district of wide, well-manicured lawns, garden gnomes performing a variety of whimsical activities, and neatly trimmed privet hedges. It was the sort of place where everyone was asleep in bed at this hour, the sort of place one did not find people loitering in the streets or driving around late at night.

It was not the sort of place one expected to see a flock of black-clad figures upon black motorcycles, with white helmets so that they looked like grimm, or members of the White Fang.

But they were worse than the White Fang; they were journalists, and they were gathered outside of Novo's house. Flashes erupted from their cameras, illuminating the stonework and the natural, unpainted wooden door, reflecting off the brass door-knocker.

The curtains, as far as he could see, were drawn, there was no indication of life inside the house — unless you counted the blue sedan parked on the drive — but the press remained outside regardless, staying just off the property so that they could not be charged with trespass, flashes blazing away.

Aspen supposed he should be grateful there wasn't an airship hovering overhead, but nevertheless, as he pulled up on the other side of the road, unseen and unnoticed for the moment, his prevailing emotion was one of anger.

It was enough to make him wish that they had followed through on the recommendations of the Lachlan Commission and imposed tough regulations on press behaviour — under threat of legal liabilities if they didn't. Novo had argued that it wasn't necessary, and they could open up a dividing line with the other side — not to mention guarantee themselves an easy ride with the press — by opposing it.

That seemed like a mistake now.

And no, the fact that they happened to be right in this case in no way mitigated the fact that they had hacked a young woman's emails — Aspen was in doubt that this whole anonymous tip business was just a smokescreen; the Valish press had form when it came to illegal intrusions into people's privacy — to obtain information she had never intended to be made public.

It was absolutely despicable, the ugliness compounded by the fact that these same people, without a shred of self-awareness, would no doubt spout all manner of pious nostrums about freedom of speech, holding the powerful to account, and all the other crap these parasites came out with to cloak their wickedness in the mask of rectitude.

They still hadn't noticed Aspen's presence, although they soon would. At least they would when he got out of his car and walked across the road to try and get through them into Novo's house.

In the meantime, for just a little while longer, Aspen turned away from watching the watchers, laid both his hands upon the steering wheel, and rested his forehead on his hands.

His antlers tapped the windscreen as he wondered how it had come to this.

He did not know exactly how Vale would react to this, but he could already imagine Leo's smug, smirking face on television trying to make capital out of all this.

Perhaps he should have blamed himself, regretted the decisions he had taken that had led to this, but he did not.

When Aspen had first found out what Sunset Shimmer had done, he had been, to put it mildly, angry. Angry at what she had done, and angry, too, over the unfair defenestration of Novo that had followed on from it.

The two had been conflated in his mind. He had wanted Sunset Shimmer to pay for what she'd done; he had wanted to destroy her for it. That was why, while recognising that it was necessary to keep the whole thing hushed up, he had sent her away on that mission to Arcadia Lake, hoping that she wouldn't come back.

He still thought it was necessary to keep the whole thing hushed up; he still thought his reasons for doing so were, if anything, even better than they had been when Novo had persuaded him of the import. Hatred of the faunus had already risen so much, there was so much more prejudice than there had been against their people … bad enough that the White Fang were involved; at least you could condemn them and their actions, but a Beacon student, a huntress? It would be music to the ears of those who said that the faunus could not be trusted, that they had no place in civilised, human society.

Aspen, not only as a responsible leader, but as a faunus, who hoped to leave his son a Vale where he could grow up without stigma or discrimination, could not give them that satisfaction.

And that was without considering the effects on Vale as a whole, the blow to morale, the likely panic. It was all too much, much too much.

There were some things it was better for the people not to know.

Aspen's belief in Novo's reasoning had only strengthened since then, and as for his feelings towards Sunset Shimmer…

His anger had cooled, helped, it had to be admitted, by that visit from Ozpin. His anger had cooled, and he could now see a little better what Ozpin had seen: a frightened girl who had gotten in over her head and made a mistake, and who would have to live with that mistake for the rest of her life.

And, it had to be said, who had made up for it since, at Arcadia Lake, and more recently by helping to capture Cinder Fall.

In an ideal world, that would have been the end of it. Cinder Fall would have been tried, executed, her body cremated, and with her, all the turmoil of last year would have been turned to ashes and blown away.

Instead … who could say how long this would run for, like a sore that refused to heal?

At least there wasn't … he very much hoped that there wasn't any proof. With nothing but this email, they could deny everything, and there would be no way of contradicting them. Of course, some explanation as to why Skystar had written that email would certainly help, and that was one of the things he was here to discuss with her, and with her mother.

Aspen raised his head and once more glowered at the press beyond. He wanted to scream at them, to tell them they should be reporting on Cinder Fall's arrest, not this! He wanted to summon a police van and bundle the whole pack of them up inside it, but he had given the police enough to do tonight when he had ordered them to set up security around power stations, relay towers, train stations, and water works.

A job for the Defence Force, some would argue, and they might even be right … if one trusted the head of the Defence Force. That discussion over the grimm tonight was making Aspen wonder if he might not have done better to have promoted Sky Beak to the vacant generalship. Yes, there would have been accusations of cronyism, but what had he got by avoiding those accusations? A general who seemingly had no plan as the grimm gathered at the door but to hope they went away by themselves.

Aspen could only hope that, now that he had been given his marching orders, Blackthorn might at least show some competence in executing them.

Speaking of executions…

Aspen got out of his car; if the soft thump of the door shutting after him hadn't given away, then the beeping as locked the car certainly would have.

The press rounded on him like a many-headed monster, turning as though guided by a single will and intellect. Flashes burst in Aspen's face, but he tried to ignore them as he walked forward.

"First Councillor! First Councillor!"

"Are you here in connection with the Skystar Aris email?"

"I'm here visiting a friend," Aspen said.

"Is it true that—?"

"I categorically deny everything that that illicitly — possibly illegally — obtained email accuses me of," Aspen declared as he started to push through the press pack, feeling them pressed against his sides even as he pushed them out his way to his front. "I did not cover up a crime against Vale, nor was one committed. All the people named in that email are entirely blameless."

"Then why are they named?"

"I don't know; why don't you ask whoever obtained this document?" demanded Aspen. "And ask them how they came by it, for that matter."

Aspen had escaped the press of the press like a ship breaking through the ice into open water, and now, he rounded on them, turning to face them as the flashes went off in his face.

"It has now been seven years since the Lachlan Commission's inquiry uncovered disturbing accounts of hacking, bugging, harassment, and illegal surveillance in pursuit of stories, and since then, despite many mea culpas and promises of change, we continue to see the same corrupt and immoral practices in which innocent people have their lives and reputations ruined by an industry that aims at nothing less than power, power derived from the fear that it inspires in others, power without responsibility. Well, I, for one, will not stand for it any longer. You have exhausted the patience of the public, and now, you have exhausted mine too. Watch this space, and remember, you have only yourselves to blame."

The flashes still went off, but there were no more questions shouted at him as he turned his back upon the whole lot of them and walked towards Novo's door.

The door opened a second before he reached it. It was dark inside, too dark to really see, but Aspen plunged inside regardless, slamming the door shut after him.

Novo switched on the lamp that sat on the hall table, illuminating a wood-panelled hallway with a clock on the wall just above the lamp.

Novo stood beside the varnished walnut table. She folded her arms. "'Power without responsibility'?"

"How did you—?"

"You were live on television," Novo explained, with one hand gesturing through the doorway into the living room.

Aspen peeked inside, leaning sideways a little to stick his head through the open doorway. Skystar was sat on the sofa, back hunched, a blanket or a poncho — with the lights off in the living room, it was hard to say for sure — wrapped around her, the lights of the television illuminating her face in constantly changing colours.

Aspen turned his attention to the TV itself, which was showing, in one corner of the screen, an image of Novo's house.

"The First Councillor there, having just entered the building after a tirade against—"

"I don't regret what I said," Aspen declared, ducking back out of the room. "It needed saying."

Novo smiled. "Perhaps it did, but in this circumstance? Not that I don't admire your brass neck." She smiled. "Do you remember when I used to send you out to do the media round? Go out and get grilled on the morning radio?"

Aspen nodded. "I remember."

The smile lingered on Novo's face. "A lot of people would waffle, or flail, or lapse into rote recitation of soundbites. But you would go on the attack; it was almost as if you were trying to hold the public to account on behalf of the party."

"Not the public," Aspen insisted. "Just the media." He paused. "How's Skystar?"

"You just saw, didn't you?" asked Novo.

"Yes, but … that bad, eh?"

Novo nodded. "She hasn't spoken to me. I think she's afraid of my reaction, and I … I don't want her to speak to me if she doesn't want to." She frowned. "What she has told me is that she's asked Sunset Shimmer to come round."

"She's afraid to face you, but she wants to talk to Sunset Shimmer?"

"Apparently. Or feels she ought to, at least," Novo said. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"No," Aspen assured. "My feelings towards Sunset Shimmer have … I don't hate her the way I did. In fact…" He put his hands in his pockets. "God help me, I feel sorry for her. Ozpin has clearly got her involved in something too big for her, and Mountain Glenn is the result. I think he'd say the same. He knows."

"Since when?"

"I don't know," Aspen admitted. "But he came to me defending her. He warned me off her, like I was the dangerous one. I suppose I should give him credit for not throwing her under the bus to protect himself." He paused. "And how are you doing?"

Novo sighed. "I'd feel a lot better if Skystar weren't involved in this at all, but on the whole, I'd rather discuss our strategy than my feelings. What are we going to do?"

"Can we go somewhere else?" asked Aspen. "I feel like an unwanted guest standing here in the hall."

"Well, I beg your pardon for any hurt feelings," Novo said dryly. "Come into the kitchen." She turned around and led the way into a galley kitchen that always surprised Aspen with how narrow it was, so narrow that he had to turn sideways to fit his antlers in. Cupboards loomed out of the walls on either side at about face height, while work surfaces, more cupboards, and an oven hemmed them in below.

Novo opened one of the top cupboards and pulled out a couple of glasses and a bottle of rich, brown liquor.

"Kaledonian whiskey," she said. "Oh, but you're driving, aren't you?"

"What if I weren't?" Aspen asked. "What if I spent the night here instead?"

Novo's eyebrows rose. "Now?"

"I meant sleeping on the couch, obviously," Aspen said.

"Even so, now?"

"Why not now?" asked Aspen. "Alright, maybe not this very night, but … we're both single. We haven't even got divorced. You're not my boss anymore. What is there to object to?"

"The fact that I'm sleeping my way back to high office, perhaps?" Novo suggested. "And the children—"

"Skystar is old enough to understand, surely?"

"Is Bramble?" Novo asked.

Aspen didn't reply, except to say, "I'd like to give happiness another try, while I'm still young enough to enjoy it. I've always liked you, Novo, ever since we were at university."

"I know," Novo replied. "And I've wondered, if we'd given it a try then … of course, if you'd been my husband, you would have had to give up your career."

"Which I would have," Aspen said. "And would have pleased my father no end; he wanted me to go into business. But I wanted to change the world, not just make money in it. But I'd have given that up for … the right reasons."

Novo smiled. "What would we tell the press outside, if you stayed the night?"

"That we were discussing our legal options in response to these libellous accusations and outrageous intrusion into your daughter's privacy?" Aspen suggested. "That I was telling you my brilliant plan to bring our errant press to heel?"

Novo poured him a glass of whiskey.

"The couch," she said, handing him a glass, "is yours."

"Much obliged," Aspen said as he knocked back the sharp-tasting whiskey.

Novo sipped from her glass. "So what's our plan?"

"I've already started it," Aspen said. "We need to change the question, change the narrative. Not 'what did we do?' or 'what did we know?' or 'what was Sunset Shimmer doing visiting your official residence?' but 'who do you trust?'"

"You think people will trust us?" Novo asked sceptically.

"I think huntsmen regularly poll as the most trusted people in society," Aspen said. "I think if we ask the people who they trust: a hero who fought for Vale all through this year and who just tonight captured the real architect of this year's miseries; or the press, who always have an agenda of their own, who frequently report on what they want not on what is and who have been implicated in all manner of scandals over the years… who do you think people will believe, even if it does mean trusting politicians?"

"When you put it like that, it sounds promising," Novo admitted. "But it might be simpler to argue that the whole thing is without a shred of proof."

"Wouldn't we rather nobody went looking for any proof?" asked Aspen. "If it becomes about fact, someone might eventually be able to stand the story up."

Novo nodded slowly. "Odd that they didn't, don't you think? Once they got the email, wouldn't you expect them to try and substantiate it before they blurted the whole thing out and laid themselves open to having it dismissed as baseless speculation?"

"They've spent so long hacking scrolls and computers, they've forgotten what real journalism looks like," muttered Aspen. "Or incompetence is in the water."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean Blackthorn has been acting strangely lately too," explained Aspen. "There are grimm gathering outside the city, and he wasn't prepared or preparing to do anything about them."

"Grimm gathering?" Novo repeated. "You buried the lede there, didn't you?"

"They aren't attacking," Aspen assured her. They're just … massing."

"Even so," Novo said, "if Blackthorn won't act, and I agree that does sound odd, then perhaps you should allow General Ironwood—"

"No, I've got a better idea," Aspen said. "As the threat to the outlying villages recedes, we can recall the huntsmen there and use them to spearhead our assault against the grimm."

"In a Valish operation," Novo pronounced approvingly.

"Precisely," Aspen replied. "This whole business with Sunset Shimmer is a wrench, but … it doesn't have to throw everything off course or into disarray. We can see this through without damage. Your reputation will not come to any more harm, I guarantee it."

"My reputation," Novo murmured. "What about Skystar?"

"The victim of hacking—"

"It still needs to be explained why she wrote the email in the first place," Novo said.

"She deleted it," Aspen pointed out.

"After writing it."

"If you cannot write a nonsense email and then delete it unsent, then what's the world coming too?" asked Aspen.

"I fear that argument might leave a few people unmoved," said Novo. "We need to say something, or Skystar does."

Aspen rotated his empty glass. "Then you need to talk to her."

Novo sighed. "Yes," she admitted. "Yes, I suppose I—"

She was interrupted by the sound of Sunset Shimmer, standing in the back garden with a motorcycle helmet tucked under one arm, tapping on the kitchen window with her free hand.

XxXxX​

Sunset had cast the inverted 'want it, need it' spell on herself, the one that didn't have a name — the don't see it spell? The look away spell? — but which she had used in Mistral when they'd been out and about to get people to stop staring at Pyrrha when she just wanted to relax and hang out with her friends. Sunset had used it then to make Pyrrha feel more comfortable. Now, she was using it for a more serious purpose.

Okay, technically, she was still just using it to make herself feel more comfortable, but it felt more serious to Sunset.

She didn't know exactly how many people yet knew about the accusations that had been made against her, she didn't know how many people had made up their minds about her guilt, but what she did know — what she knew for certain — was that she didn't want to be stopped tonight.

She didn't want to be stopped, she didn't want to be questioned, she didn't want hostility or support, she just wanted to get to Skystar and … and hear what she had to say.

Sunset wasn't angry. She didn't have the right to be angry; she had brought this on herself. She couldn't be angry at Skystar for revealing things that Sunset had actually done. That would have been a bit much, all things considered.

She was upset, to be sure, and considering what had happened to her tonight, she felt a little upset was perfectly understandable in the circumstances, but all the same, this was Sunset's fault.

She had brought this on herself, both through her actions and through her treatment of Ruby.

Of course, the two were bound up together: the sort of person to look with more indulgence upon Ruby's attitudes would have thrown away the trigger when they reached the front of the train.

In other words, that person would not have been Sunset Shimmer.

Sunset bore Skystar no malice for her part in Sunset's downfall, but nevertheless, she was curious that Skystar had named her own mother alongside Councillor Emerald. Had her conscience really been so strong, her sense of morality so ironclad, that she had been willing to condemn her own mother for her part in all this?

Obviously not, since she hadn't sent the email, but nevertheless … nevertheless, that took a certain kind of strength, albeit not a sort of strength that Sunset wished she had.

But what did Skystar want with her now? Why did she want Sunset to come and see her?

That question, Sunset supposed, she would only answer by actually going to see Skystar, as she was on her way to.

Once Sunset reached the Carabas district where Skystar lived, she became especially glad of the spell. This looked like the kind of place where they called the cops on faunus, especially faunus in black leather jackets riding motorbikes.

So Sunset thought, at least, until she got to Skystar's house and found it besieged by a horde of black-clad bikers and not a police officer in sight.

Seeing them, in their black jackets and white helmets, Sunset's first — in hindsight, rather absurd — thought was that this was some sort of biker chapter of the White Fang. In fact, Sunset had gone so far as to draw her sword and prepare to descend upon them like a knight of old — albeit one without armour, shining or otherwise, and on a ramshackle bike instead of a noble steed — when she realised that the only thing they were shooting was photographs.

At that point, a few thoughts occurred to Sunset, the first being that she would have to drop the spell in order to be let into Skystar's house.

The second being that if she did so, all those photographers would spot her, and she wasn't really very keen on that idea.

The third point was that she didn't really want to lie to Skystar about magic. She would just much rather that it didn't come up at all. Which meant she needed to find an avenue of approach that would explain it otherwise.

So, still obscured from notice by her spell, Sunset retreated around the corner and left her bike parked somewhere discreet, out of sight of the reporters — after all, once Sunset got off it, everyone would be able to see her bike. She just hoped nobody stole it or had it confiscated or something.

Still, she didn't have much choice; she couldn't take it with her as she vaulted the wooden fence and landed in the back garden of the house at the end of Skystar's road.

There was a family of four in the house, sitting and watching TV, all facing the windows overlooking the back garden, but none of them paid Sunset any mind as she jumped the next fence into the neighbour's garden. And so on, leaping fence after fence like a steeplechase until, dropping the spell as she did so, she jumped into Skystar's back garden.

The lights were on inside the house, and Sunset could see Councillor Emerald and former Councillor Aris standing in what was a really astonishingly small kitchen.

Deep in conversation, neither of them noticed Sunset until, hoping that Skystar had told her mother she was coming, Sunset tapped on the kitchen window to get their attention.

They both looked a little surprised to see her, which Sunset supposed was understandable in the circumstances, but once they had stared at her for a couple of seconds, Former Councillor Aris — she possibly should have been known as Mrs. Aris, but that sounded a little odd in Sunset's mind, and verging upon disrespectful — gestured to her left.

Sunset moved right, sidling like a crab until she was no longer looking into the overly-small kitchen but into the overly large dining room.

No doubt, as a politician, Former Councillor Aris did a lot of hosting. Though what she cooked for them in that cubbyhole of a kitchen, Sunset could hardly imagine. The kitchenettes in the Beacon dormitories were bigger than that.

Another thing the dining room possessed, besides size, was a pair of large glass doors opening up into the garden, and as soon as Councillor Emerald and former Councillor Aris had made their way into the dining room — they took a little longer about it than Sunset, but not too long — former Councillor Aris unlocked the doors and slid one of them open.

"Good evening Councillor," Sunset said, with a bow of her head. "Ma'am."

"Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald murmured. "You arrive from an unexpected quarter."

"I didn't really want to be photographed coming into the house," said Sunset.

"Understandable," murmured former Councillor Aris. "So instead you—"

"Jumped the fence, ma'am," Sunset said. "And all the other fences from the corner of the street."

"Did the neighbours see you?" asked the former First Councillor.

"I am sure not, ma'am," Sunset said. "As a huntress, I've been taught to move stealthily when I wish to."

That was not a lie; she had had a class in stealth, and she had been taught in that class. The fact that no member of Team SAPR was getting good grades in that class — good thing it was the one class you didn't need to pass to graduate — was neither here nor there.

"I hope you're right," said Former Councillor Aris. "Come inside, Miss Shimmer."

"Thank you, ma'am," Sunset replied softly as she stepped into the dining room.

The floor was tiled, and the tiles were spotless. Sunset felt as though she ought to have taken off her boots before she came in, but the Former Councillor slid the door shut behind Sunset before she could do more than regret that she had not.

She had come here at Skystar's invitation, to speak to Skystar, but finding herself with the present and former First Councillors, Sunset did not immediately ask where Skystar was. Instead, her ears drooping, she said, "I have caused you both more trouble than I ever intended."

"True," observed Councillor Emerald. "But I must admit that you've also done us good you did intend: at Arcadia Lake, and tonight's business with Cinder Fall."

"And yet…" Sunset hesitated. "While the truth might not have saved your career, ma'am, it would have alleviated the risk to yours, sir."

"Yes," Councillor Emerald said. "But all the same … let's not rehash the past, Miss Shimmer. I have … forgiven you. Let's leave it at that."

Sunset's eyes widened. He, too? Even he, even the First Councillor, who had seemed at one point her most bitter foe, even he?

Was Ruby the only one who could not forgive? Was she so blessed?

No, not blessed, not quite, for … for though Ruby be the only one who could not forgive her, that lack of forgiveness was enough to cast her out of paradise and into darkness.

Nevertheless, the forgiveness of the First Councillor was … Sunset bowed her head and spoke in a hoarse voice. "Thank you, Councillor." She paused a moment. "How is—?"

"Sunset?" Skystar asked.

Sunset stared at her. Skystar had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, falling down behind her back to the floor. She was holding onto it with both pale hands as she stood in the doorway between the dining room and the room beyond — what looked like a living room, with the TV still on, although didn't care to listen to what it was saying.

"Skystar," Sunset said gently. "Hey." Deeply inadequate, she knew, but … it was hard to think of the words.

At least, not until she knew what Skystar wanted of her and why she had asked Sunset here in the first place.

Skystar frowned. "Sunset, I—"

"Don't," Sunset said quickly. "Don't apologise, you don't have to do that, it … you don't have to."

"But it's my fault," Skystar said.

"I did it," Sunset muttered.

"But no one would have known if it wasn't for me and that stupid email," Skystar said. She dropped the blanket, letting it fall down behind her just as her hands fell down to her sides. "I wish I'd never written it."

"Then…" Former Councillor Aris began. "Then why did you, dear?"

"Because … because I was upset," Skystar admitted. "I was upset with Sunset, with you, with all of you." She looked at Sunset. "I couldn't believe what you'd done. What you'd been willing to do."

Sunset didn't reply. There really wasn't very much to say upon the matter.

At least, very little that would help.

It had never been her intent to hurt Skystar by her actions, or Silverstream or Terramar or anyone else, but she had put them in danger nonetheless.

Skystar went on, "And I couldn't believe that you were all just going to keep this a secret as though … I couldn't understand why, even if it wouldn't be enough to save Mom; I thought the truth should come out. Even the truth that the two of you had known and chosen to say nothing."

"And so you wrote the email," Councillor Emerald said. "Who were you going to send it to?"

"I hadn't worked that out yet," Skystar admitted. "General Blackthorn, Lisa Lavender, Professor Ozpin, somebody."

"But you didn't," Sunset said.

Skystar nodded. "I thought … I thought some more, and I thought that maybe … if Mom and Aspen — sorry, Coun—"

"'Aspen' is fine, here in private," he assured her.

"I thought that if you and Mom thought that keeping this secret was the right thing to do, then I should consider that you might be right, and I didn't necessarily know best," Skystar said. "And I thought about it, and I thought about how frightened everyone was, how on edge, and I thought that … yeah, the people of Vale had had enough shocks; they didn't need any more. And I thought about what you described, about what happened down on Mountain Glenn, and I asked myself … can I be sure that I would have done the right thing in your place? No. No, I couldn't. So I deleted the email. I didn't realise it could still be accessed."

"It shouldn't be, by any legitimate means," Councillor Emerald said.

"Does that matter?" Skystar said. "What I said … how much trouble are we in?"

"Not that much, I hope," said Councillor Emerald. "As I was just telling your mother, I intend to fight this battle on the credibility of the press. When asked if they believe the press over a huntress, the public will choose the huntress."

"One problem with that, First Councillor," Sunset murmured. "I … am not a huntress anymore."

"What?!" Skystar cried.

"You've picked a fine time to switch careers, Miss Shimmer; what's going on?" Councillor Emerald demanded.

"My teammates, one of my teammates in particular…" Sunset looked down, as her tail drooped beneath her legs. "She wasn't very happy when she found out what I'd done. She … cast me out."

"'Cast you—' we're talking about a school, not the court of King Edward," Councillor Emerald snapped. "What did Ozpin have to say about all this?"

"I haven't spoken to him," Sunset said softly.

"You mean you just left?" asked Former Councillor Aris. "This other girl told you to go, and you went?"

"She could not abide my presence another minute," Sunset murmured.

Councillor Emerald frowned. "Which of your teammates?"

"Ruby," Sunset whispered. "It was Ruby."

"Then Miss Rose must be made to see reason," Councillor Emerald declared. "I will tell her so myself, if I must. For the sake of the stability of Vale and of the present Council, you must remain a Beacon student and retain the credibility of that status. On no account must you make yourself look guilty by running away."

"I cannot go back," Sunset said. "Ruby will not have it. She will keep your secret, Councillor, and mine; thus far will she go for the sake of stability and the present Council, but no further. If I go back … if I go back, then she will leave, and Ruby does not deserve that. Not for my sake. And that is without considering Jaune; he wasn't very happy with me either."

"But if you go, you seem guilty," Councillor Emerald said. "And we all seem guilty along with you."

Sunset frowned. He had a point, and yet, at the same time, his proposed remedy was unworkable and would be cruel to Ruby even if attempted. She didn't deserve to have the First Councillor badger her about changing her mind, even if he could succeed in doing so, which he couldn't. In this, Sunset was sure, Ruby's will would be as adamant.

And yet, he had a point, all the same. If she were found to have fled the school, it would embolden those pronouncing her guilty. But if the First Councillor's remedy was no remedy at all, then what medicine did they have?

What to do? What to do?

And then she had it. The beginnings of it, at least, and that was the most important part right now. "You could send me away, Councillor!"

Councillor Emerald frowned. "You'd better explain further."

"On a mission, as you did before," Sunset went on. "Send me somewhere that will get me out of Vale without arousing suspicion."

"The very act of sending you out, alone, while you are but a student and your teammate is competing in the Vytal Tournament will seem suspicious to some," observed Former Councillor Aris.

"Call it a sign of the First Councillor's trust in me, demonstrated by deeds, not words," Sunset suggested.

Of course, there was a pretty notable downside to this plan — albeit not one that she could share with the present company — which was that, out of Vale, she wouldn't be able to hunt down the Siren terrorising Vale. She would just have to ensure that Professor Ozpin assigned somebody to the duty and that she gave him all the information on sirens that she could.

Staying in Vale, even for an important task … it risked leaving the wound open and sore.

Councillor Emerald folded his arms. "Not the worst idea, I suppose, in the absence of anything better, but … at some point, you will have to return to school."

"No, First Councillor, I won't," Sunset said. "Because on this mission, I will die."

Skystar gasped.

Councillor Emerald frowned. "Not so long ago, I would have welcomed the idea, but I no longer desire your death, Miss Shimmer."

"Then it's a good job I'm not actually going to die, isn't it, First Councillor?" Sunset asked. "I'll be reported dead, with no body found. That's not unusual, for huntresses." That had been the way that it had been for Ruby's mother, and for poor Sky, for that matter. "You'll say that I'm dead, died completing my mission, and then … you never have to worry about explaining why I haven't come back to Beacon."

"And everything that you were accused of will be forgotten," Skystar murmured. "And you will live forever, a hero of glorious memory."

Sunset laughed wryly. "Hardly, I … if I ever believed that, I don't anymore. I don't believe the honour of the dead will live on with the living, that … that's part of the reason why I couldn't … anyway. The point is, I'll be forgotten soon enough. The memory of the Vytal crown, the laurels of the victor, being placed on Pyrrha's brow will linger longer in the memory than my passing. And that … some would say that to be forgotten is a kinder fate than I deserve." She paused. "Cinder and I, our twin demises will draw a line under this turbulent year, just as you wished, First Councillor."

Put like that, the attraction of a passing more real … still paled in comparison to the impulse to live.

Dying, after all, would have involved abandoning her friends quite as much, or more, as returning to Equestria.

She would not do that. She would fight this battle … somehow. She would fight, though they saw her not.

Former Councillor Aris said, "If you're considering this, Aspen, I have a job she could do."

Councillor Emerald cupped his chin with one hard. "I suppose … it does put a full stop on things. Unless you're soon enough found to be alive afterwards."

"I will … disguise myself," Sunset suggested. "I'll dye my hair … and maybe cut off my tail."

It would be an awful wrench, two awful wrenches, of which she would regret the hiding of her gorgeous fiery hair even more than her tail. But, again, it would still be less than she deserved.

"No one will recognise me," she insisted.

"This is beginning to sound like something out of a stage tragedy," Skystar said. "And with just as much chance of ending badly. Fake deaths, convoluted deceptions, disguises, what's next, are you going to use your funeral to escape a prison or reveal yourself too late to stop a cavalcade of unforeseen consequences?"

Sunset snorted. "I take comfort from the fact that nobody loves me enough to take their own life on hearing that I have lost mine."

And she who would grieve Sunset most deeply would never even know that she was 'dead.'

"I'm being serious," Skystar insisted. "There must be a simpler way."

"Such as?" asked Sunset.

Skystar hesitated for a moment, then frowned. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I do know this still doesn't solve the problem of my email."

A rather dolorous silence followed that pronouncement, which, after all, was hard to deny.

It was hard to think of any reason Skystar would have written such a thing, other than that it was true, and she wanted to get the word out.

It was a bit extreme for an act of teenage rebellion — on the other hand, Sunset had run all the way to another world in her act of rebellion, so … maybe?

But probably not. Ideally, whatever explanation was offered up to the people had to seem at least somewhat plausible.

Which was an issue, plausible explanations being somewhat difficult to come by.

Sunset looked away from Skystar towards Former Councillor Aris. "What is the mission, ma'am?"

"Someone needs to go to Mount Aris," replied the Former Councillor.

Sunset cooked her head slightly. "Is that named for your family or your family for the place, ma'am?"

Former Councillor Aris chuckled lightly. "A little of both, I think. It is only a large town, not a city, but it has been my family's … you could call it our seat of power, I suppose, for some time."

"What troubles it now?" asked Sunset.

"The usual," answered the Former Councillor. "Reports of grimm in the hinterland around the town, many of the local farmers have fled inside the walls. Those walls are sturdy, and well-manned by the town guard, but it could use a huntsman or huntress to go out there and, well, deal with it."

"Search and destroy," Sunset said softly.

"Precisely," said Former Councillor Aris. "I was going to put something on the job board, but if you're looking for something to do…"

"I am, ma'am."

"Then it will show that both Aspen and I have complete confidence in you," declared Former Councillor Aris. "I could probably find you some employment after your… well, your death, if you are looking for employment in your next life."

"That … is very generous of you to offer, ma'am, considering that my work has caused you difficulties in the past."

"I will be sure to keep you away from trains, Miss Shimmer, but you seem to have some talent as regards grimm and criminals," Former Councillor Aris replied lightly. "How soon will you leave?"

Sunset hesitated. "Not … not until at least the day after tomorrow, ma'am; there is a possibility of a grimm attack on Vale, and I would be here to do my part if it happens."

She was very, very grateful that no one present asked her on whose side or account she intended to do her part.

"And I imagine leaving would be very difficult with so many grimm around, in any case," added Councillor Emerald.

"So many grimm?" asked Skystar.

"They will be taken care of, in due course," Councillor Emerald assured her. "The plan is already in motion."

Sunset supposed she should be glad of that, since any amount of time she was stuck in Vale — yes, the air routes were open, but for how long? How long until nevermores joined the gathering hordes, and Lady Nikos and all the other guests from across the kingdoms were caged up in a city under siege? Not to mention, who really wanted to fly over a horde of grimm into whose mass any technical error might plunge you? — due to the grimm outside the walls was time she could spend looking for the siren. On the other hand, any amount of time she was stuck in Vale invited the question of why she was in Vale and not at Beacon.

She cleared her throat. "Far be it for me to counsel the First Councillor—"

"Far be it indeed, Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald said.

"But General Ironwood's forces are here right now and could—"

"Make us look weak and helpless and dependent on Atlesian assistance, no," Councillor Emerald declared. "Valish huntsmen will get the job done soon enough."

"As you say, First Councillor," Sunset murmured and hoped he was right.

There was a general silence.

"So, Sunset," Skystar said, breaking the silence after a moment passed. "If you aren't going back to Beacon, where are you going to stay tonight?"

Sunset's mouth opened, but no words emerged, because she hadn't thought that far ahead. "A motel, I—"

Skystar shook her head. "Come on, you can crash in my room."

"Really?" Sunset asked. "I mean, that's very generous, but really?"

"Yes, really," Skystar insisted. "Come on, I'll take you up there."

"Skystar," Former Councillor Aris said, and Sunset wondered whether she was going to object to Sunset's presence. What she actually said, however, amidst awkwardly dry-washing her hands, was, "Aspen is also going to be staying the night … on the couch."

Skystar came very close to smirking as her eyebrows rose. "'On the couch,' huh?"

Former Councillor Aris squirmed awkwardly, no longer looking so much like a Former Councillor. "Well … if Aspen were to stay elsewhere … elsewhere in the house, that is, then … how would that be okay?"

"Mom," Skystar said. "I'm not a kid anymore. Come on, Sunset; it's this way."

Sunset didn't say anything, nor even look at either the current or the former First Councillors as she followed Skystar out of the dining room, through the living room and out into the wood-panelled hall.

"That's not a yes," called out Mrs. Aris.

"Yes, Mom," Skystar called back, the smile still on her face.

"The First Councillor … and your mother?" asked Sunset as they began to climb the stairs.

"Oh, yeah, he's had the hots for her for ages," Skystar explained as she turned around to look down at Sunset. "And, you know, he's not bad-looking for an old guy."

"I can't say I've ever considered that angle," Sunset said.

Skystar snorted. "Come on."

She led Sunset up the stairs and down the upstairs hallway, to a room that was dark — with the curtains drawn and the lights off — but not completely dark because it was illuminated by lines of festive lights — some of them in the Vytal colours of green, blue, yellow and white; the overwhelming majority of them entirely red. They offered dim illumination in the room, enough to show the pair of clam shells, one pink and one blue, sitting on the nightstand, and the stuffed animals colonising the foot of the bed.

Skystar flipped the lights on, showing the sea blue carpet underfoot, the turquoise wallpaper, and the pictures of fish, whales, dolphins, orcas, sea creatures of all kinds that had been stuck on the walls, looking like they had been ripped out of something.

"Nice pictures," Sunset said. "Yours?"

Skystar laughed. "Wildlife Photographer of the Year entrants. I cut them out of the annual. Only the sea creatures, not the animals."

"Very brave," Sunset observed, "to dive into the water to get pictures like that."

"And some of the photographers are just kids too," Skystar said. "They're … kind of awe-inspiring."

"Mmm," Sunset murmured, turning away from the fish that were beautiful and weird — there was one picture of a clownfish that looked as though it had another fish growing in its mouth — to face Skystar.

"Thanks for … this," she said softly.

Skystar didn't say anything until she had sat down on the bed, the mattress sagging ever so slightly beneath her.

"I still don't get you," she admitted. "The things that you do, and won't do, the things that … what you did, and then the way you tried to help mum, and … I don't get you."

Sunset shrugged. "I … I'm not sure how much there is to get. And I'm not sure how much I could explain it either, except … I'm ruled by my heart more than my wit. I did what I did because I was scared for my friends, and I leaked that Cardin stuff because I was angry at him on behalf of Blake. I've hurt you a lot, haven't I?"

"There are things you should feel guilty for; that's not one of them," Skystar insisted. "Whether or not Cardin meant it, he still lied to me. He still lied to Silverstream and Terramar, and he pretended to be someone he wasn't. That's enough for me to be glad that I'm done with him." She paused. "How is he?"

"I thought you were done with him?"

"I am," Skystar said. "It doesn't mean that I'm not curious."

"He's … okay," Sunset replied. "We don't talk much; you'd be better off asking Weiss."

"Is she—?"

"No," Sunset said. "No, she isn't; she… she is not her father, and even her father hasn't actually done anything. I mean, he didn't do that, anyway. My friends, Blake and Rainbow Dash, they're in Weiss' corner. They wouldn't be if she were in any way involved in this."

"I guess I'll have to take your word for that," Skystar murmured. She hesitated, looking down at the star-pattern duvet cover beneath her.

"So," she said, "what are you going to do after you're dead?"

"I…" Sunset trailed off. "I'm not sure. I hadn't given — I hadn't had much time to give — it much thought. Before I left, Pyrrha suggested that I might serve her mother, in Mistral."

"And she wouldn't hold the whole … Breach thing against you?"

"I'm afraid that she might see it as a mark of my good character," Sunset admitted. "That I chose to save her heir over all else."

"Then you'll fit right in, I guess," Skystar observed. "Although it might be harder to get the job once you're dead."

"You make it sound like I'm actually going to die," Sunset said.

"Don't blame me; it's your stupid plan," said Skystar. "There must be a better way."

"I can't think of one, can you?" Sunset demanded.

"Well … no," Skystar admitted. "But can you think of a way to explain that email I wrote?"

"Unfortunately not," Sunset muttered. "I'm better at stirring the pot than I am at…"

Skystar frowned. "Sunset?"

"Hang on," Sunset said. "Hang on!"

"Hang on to what?"

"I don't know, anything you like," Sunset said. "Because I think I just might have an idea."
 
Chapter 68 - Don't Look Back in Anger
Don't Look Back in Anger


How should one behave in the face of impending death?

The question was on Cinder's mind for obvious reasons as she sat in the back of an armoured transport, with several grim-faced soldiers surrounding her, towards her execution.

Not that she was helpless. Bound as she was, without her aura as she was, she yet possessed half the magic of a Maiden. She could have broken her restraints, killed the guards, killed the Valish general, and then…

And then what? What would that avail her? To escape, to go after Amber again, having already failed once, to what end?

To make Sunset and Pyrrha finish the job this time and actually kill her? That had a certain appeal, to be sure; it was a better death than she would obtain else — and at this point, a better death was about all that she could hope for — but on the other hand, it would rather take the shine off their victory tonight in capturing her in the first place, and Cinder didn't want to do that to them.

Sunset might be in enough trouble already without invalidating the victory that, with Sunset's part in it, stood against the accusations made against her.

That was Tempest's doing; of that, Cinder was quite certain. Tempest feared what Cinder might say — and rightly so; why should Cinder hold her tongue in the face of betrayal and abandonment? — and so she had released this attack on Sunset's reputation to distract attention from herself, and Amber, and Sonata.

Not that Amber in particular needed the distraction; she had them wrapped around her little finger.

In a way, the fact that everyone was so enthralled with her made Amber's betrayal even worse in Cinder's eyes; it was one thing to betray those who treated you poorly — that was not so much betrayal as revenge — but to betray those who opened their hearts to you, embraced you, whose trust in you was absolute? That was just not on, was it?

Certainly, if Cinder had been so fortunate as to have been so well beloved by such people, she would have held them close and bound them to her with chains of steel.

Except she hadn't, had she? She had betrayed Sunset herself, and more than once.

Well … all the same, Amber was making a mistake. There was nothing she could gain from this that would be worth what she lost.

Cinder almost laughed aloud — would have, save that she wasn't sure how her gaolers would take it — as she realised that, while Tempest had smeared Sunset to distract people from thinking about Amber, she, Cinder, had become distracted from Sunset's smearing by thinking about Amber.

The worst part of what had been done to Sunset was that Cinder could see it working.

She hoped it would not, of course. That was why she had defended her … well, that had been part of the reason, with the other part being that she did not want — on the night of her capture no less! — to share her infamy. She was Cinder Fall! She was the shadow over Vale! She led grimm hordes and White Fang armies on, she dared damnation, she! She was not merely Sunset's co-conspirator, and she would not, on this night, on the night of her downfall when she ought to have been centre-stage, be pushed out of the limelight by Sunset's so-called treason.

Especially when there was so little to get upset about in that regard.

What Sunset had done was nothing but what the safety of her friends prompted her to. It was no less than anyone ought to do or have done in her position, otherwise…

Otherwise, you were just heartless, and undeserving of those that you would condemn to death by your action.

Just like … just like Ashley's mother, abandoning her husband and her child to an uncertain future.

And in that line stood Ruby Rose, who was more fond of grief than of any living soul, and a self-righteous little madam to boot. She had wanted to kill Cinder, during their time allied together against Doctor Merlot; she had wanted to cut Cinder down, in spite of the truce that they had agreed, because Cinder was wicked, and dangerous, and it would be safer to make an end of her swiftly.

That might have been true; in fact, it had been truer than Ruby had realised at the time, and if they had taken her advice, then Amber might not have betrayed them now, but it took some brass neck to make an argument borne out of sheer ruthless pragmatism and then get up on your high horse and act as if you were the voice of moral clarity.

The day that Ruby realised that, actually, she was no better than anyone else, she was just harder in the heart, was the day that she might become somewhat tolerable company.

Or she would find someone that she could not live without; that might make her happier, provided that she didn't lose them.

In any case, Cinder had seen the way that she looked at Sunset, and combined with what she knew of Ruby's nature, Cinder suspected that if no one else suspected Sunset, if no one else believed the allegations made against her, then Ruby did.

She happened to be right, in this particular instance, but nevertheless…

Nevertheless…

Nevertheless, she was still annoying.

Annoying, and annoyingly, the sort of person least likely to understand Sunset and why she had done it.

Cinder's grand speech had left her unmoved, so had the words of Professor Ozpin, and even the rather good point that it seemed to be open season on false accusations and slanders to the good character of Beacon students at the moment, just look at what had happened to Pyrrha, and the things that were being said about Weiss Schnee — although Cinder had no idea if they were false or not; she wouldn't put it past the Schnees to behave in such a way — they had the power to do so, after all — but looked at as part of a pattern, it did seem a little suspicious — so why should the accusations against Sunset not be lies as well?

But Ruby seemed unmoved. Cinder had seen suspicion in her gaze, from first to last. She believed what they were saying about Sunset, and that…

That meant trouble.

Cinder did not know exactly what that presaged for Sunset, but she knew that it meant something.

She could only hope that the trouble was not too great. That Sunset might ride out the storm and emerge into the sunlight once again.

Hope, and regret that she had not pulled the trigger herself.

Just a few more moments, Sunset, just a few more moments, and you would have been innocent.

I thought that I could show you that you were better off with me, more suited to be at my side, but the truth is that you were always where you were meant to be. Fate decreed it so, and who was I to set myself against destiny?

I only hope that Ruby sees it the same way, or can be persuaded to.

Don't give up, Sunset. Battle on, and win great glory.

It is as well that someone should.


After all, that opportunity was lost to her now. She would die. She would … submit to death, rather than subtract from the victory that Team SAPR had won by escaping. To do so would be to render their work tonight hollow, and that … was a little too spiteful for Cinder, in spite of the fact that it rankled with her a little bit that Pyrrha had not done her the good service of taking her life.

Yes, Pyrrha, I know that in Vale they have laws and such, but we are not Valish, are we? We are not denizens of this bourgeois place. We are creatures of an elder world, or ought to be, and by the elder rules and customs ought be bound.

Aren't simple laws the best?

If you had killed me, no one would have blamed you. And you would have shown me the respect due to a fellow warrior of Mistral.

Instead, I must confess I feel a little insulted.

And more than insulted, I feel … I do not know how to meet this death.


Thinking about Sunset, thinking about what she was or might be going through, hoping that she could avoid the worst of it, that had all proven a very handy and a useful distraction for Cinder as the transport rattled and rumbled down the roads. None of her captors seemed very interested in talking to her — they all watched her in complete silence, fingers upon the triggers of their rifles — and so, there had been nothing stopping Cinder from escaping into her thoughts, escaping from the reality of her present situation.

But now, she returned to it, to the metallic interior of this armoured vehicle, with its harsh red light, with the rumble of its engine, to the motion which bore her onward, ever onward, inexorably onwards like a river towards her end.

Towards a cell, and thence a gallows, and thence…

Fleeing down to the shades.

But how to meet it? How to behave in the face of impending death?

The answer was that it depended a great deal upon the manner of death in question. In battle, it was one thing, and that thing was thankfully very well documented in the ancient texts. At the last, faced with the inevitability of her defeat, knowing that the gods had tricked her into turning to face Pyrrha, Juturna faced the wrath of that most vaunted warrior bravely, had fought fiercely, and in the end, had perished with her face to the front, refusing to beg for her life or try and buy her survival.

Cinder could have done that. She could have taken Pyrrha's spear to her breast, either in Vale or in the Emerald Forest; she could have suffered to be impaled, beheaded, have her throat slit. She could have perished in stricken battle, and quite apart from any good it might have done her reputation, at least, she would have known how to behave.

But this? To die caged, to swing from the neck, to perish in whatever manner Tempest Shadow had planned for her, to have her throat cut to keep her from talking? How was one supposed to comport oneself in the face of that?

The only thing that Cinder could think of was to adopt a sort of casual insouciance, to act as though you hadn't a care in the world, to say things like 'I know it's traditional for the condemned to enjoy a last hearty meal, but if it's all the same to you, I should prefer not to be hanged on a full stomach, so I'll just have a cup of black coffee.' Not that Cinder would be able to taste the coffee or the hearty breakfast, but if you refused to eat or drink anything at all, then you'd just look afraid — afraid of throwing up or worse, if nothing else.

Yes, that was probably the only way to behave in the face of execution, at least as far as Cinder could see. The trouble was that it required a degree of … indulgence, perhaps, was the right word. In battle, you could be as brave as you wished, as stoic as you wanted, could face death however you liked; all the enemy had to do was kill you — and Pyrrha couldn't even do that, but leave that for the moment. In a cell, in captivity, your captors had greater say on how they treated you, and they didn't have to humour your attempts to appear brave, or unfussed, or anything else.

And why would they, in Cinder's case? She was nothing to them. Worse than nothing; she was a monster.

And that was without recalling the fact that it was not just Vale that held her prisoner, but her enemies.

Cinder prayed … Cinder prayed they would end her quickly. Not a likely prayer, perhaps, and a swift death in darkness, unseen, unmourned, having left no great legacy behind her, it was not what she had wanted. It was not what she wanted at all. But it was a sight better than some of the things she feared … it was better than some of the things she feared.

Yes, she feared. Cinder had striven to banish fear, to murder fear, she had killed Phoebe so that she might murder fear, and yet, she was afraid.

She was afraid of that for which she had murdered Phoebe: humiliation, to be demeaned before her enemies, to be used by them, to be treated as a slave.

Or a prisoner.

She feared that, and she had little cause to hope for better from Tempest Shadow.

There were no windows in the transport, and Cinder had no idea where they were being driven through, or to which precise destination. She wasn't even really sure how much time had passed while she had been lost in her thoughts.

Much good losing herself in her thoughts had done her in the end; they certainly hadn't made her feel much better.

Nor had they yielded up the answers that she was seeking.

But then, what would, she being so ignorant as she was about the fate that awaited her? What torments, what travails, the manner and the length of her captivity, the means of her passing, be it swift or slow? How was she supposed to know how to behave when she didn't know the occasion or the circumstances that she would have to behave for?

All terribly inconsiderate. Why, she didn't even know what to wear.

She supposed that all she could really do was show no fear, no matter what they did to her. That … that was advice applicable to all situations.

Put a brave face on things, no matter what.

She may not have lived the life that she had wanted, but she could at least model the death that heroes desired.

Cinder smiled at her captors, to see what they would do; nothing, as it turned out, except glower at her with those stern countenances of theirs. But they did not strike her, or threaten her, or even tell her to stop. They just stared at her.

It did occur to Cinder to wonder why they were bothering to take her anywhere, why not just put a bullet in her head right here and now?

Because of Amber, most likely. They didn't trust her — since their alliance was founded upon fear and convenience, they may have had a point there — and so, they would not reunite the Maiden powers in her, lest she get cold feet about holding up her end of the bargain. So they would keep Cinder alive until then, and like as not, they would let it be known to Amber that they had Cinder in their custody, lest she grow too comfortable.

In which case, it further occurred to Cinder that she might do some little good by forcing them to kill her. Then Amber's magic would be made whole again, and she might — she might — realise who had her best interests at heart and where those interests lay.

She might. She might not, but that would not be Cinder's fault or doing.

Some little good yet, she might do.

Yes. Yes, she would do it. Once they arrived, wherever they were taking her, then she would shatter her bonds and rage and storm and force them to put her down for good and all.

A good death. A brave, but, as importantly, a good one.

As good as that she meant to do.

And do it soon she would, she must, for the transport that bore her in its belly like the grimm that had swallowed her whole and brought her to Salem suddenly slowed to a crawl, and thence to a halt.

The engine turned off, and silence descended upon the transport and its occupants.

Until, at least, the metal hatch at the back of the transport dropped open, revealing Sonata Dusk standing in front of it, looking up into the belly of the beast.

"Hey guys!" Sonata cried cheerily. She gasped theatrically upon seeing Cinder. "I don't believe this; did you bring me back a present? I mean, I would have settled for a taco, but this?" She clasped her hands together over her chest. "You fellas really are the sweetest." She grinned. "Hey there, Cindy! Lookin'…" She wiggled one hand back and forth, like a wave on the ocean. "Eeh."

Cinder ignored her and leaned forward a little bit, craning her head to see out of the transport as she looked for Tempest, or possibly Sweetie Drops.

"Huh?" Sonata asked, as she looked round in turn. "What are you… oh. Oh!" She giggled. "Oh, you think I've got adult supervision! Aw! Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'm performing solo tonight." She clapped her hands together. "That's right, I've got you all to myself. Bring her out, boys!"

Cinder was instantly seized by two of the soldiers, who bundled out of the transport and into the midst of a military base, the barracks of the … Cinder took a glance at the patches on the shoulders of the Valish soldiers; she hadn't paid much attention to them up until now, but paying attention, she could see that they were the Grenadier Guards, with the old-fashioned bomb design on their patches, complete with fizzing fuse.

Their barracks, assuming that was where she had been taken, was a hive of activity; hemmed in by walls, enclosed within metal gates, cut off from prying eyes, soldiers bustled here and there, marching at the double in platoons, driving cars and trucks with machine guns mounted on them this way and that, parking them and then driving off again, loading up lorries with munitions.

"Are you planning to storm Beacon?" she asked. It was not what her plan had called for, but then, she expected that significant changes had been made to her plan already; that was why she'd warned Sunset and Pyrrha about the grimm attack.

"'Storm Beacon'?" Sonata repeated. "No! No way! These are soldiers of Vale, why would they want to go and attack the school in their own city, no. They're going to take their city back, aren't you, General?"

She extended one hand towards General Blackthorn, emerging last out of the transport. He took her hand and bent his head to kiss it.

"We are indeed," he confirmed. "Those arrogant Atlesians won't know what hit them."

Maybe not, but you'll know what hits you when they start shooting back, Cinder thought. Or perhaps General Ironwood would be very noble and refuse to allow his forces to return fire, because these were fellow humans, after all.

No. Surely not. Surely, he wouldn't hang his own men out to dry that way.

Not for the Valish Defence Forces, certainly.

"They're prepared for you now," Cinder declared. "I told them everything."

"Is that right?" Sonata asked. She looked at General Blackthorn. "Is that right?"

"I'm not sure," General Blackthorn admitted. "Aspen was being very cagey. Those Beacon huntresses have poisoned him against me."

"Well, never mind, I'm sure that you can handle him," Sonata said. "One way or the other. Vale is counting on you, General; don't let her down!"

"I never have," said General Blackthorn, puffing out his chest. "And never shall."

"But just to be sure, maybe make sure that they haven't beefed up security anywhere, and if there is … take care of that, too."

General Blackthorn bowed his head. "Whatever obstacles are placed in our path, we men of Vale will show that we are as good as any soldiers of the north. They shall not stand before us!"

Cinder rolled her eyes. "Tell me something," she asked Sonata, "does Tempest Shadow still think that she controls you?"

Sonata's smile made an audible squeak as it blossomed on her face. "Tempest tells me what she wants, and I tell people to do it. If I ever decided not to tell them … well, that would be something that she wouldn't see coming, wouldn't it? But, you know, why would I want to get into a fight with my good friend Tempest? It's not like I—" She stopped, clutching both hands to mouth as though she had just revealed something confidential. "Oops. Never said too much there, didn't I? Anyway, the point is that I don't want what Tempest wants, so why shouldn't we both get what we want?"

"Shouldn't that be all three of you?" Cinder asked. "You, Tempest, and Amber?"

"Amber?" Sonata asked, as though the name were unfamiliar to her. She began to walk up and down, tapping her chin effectively. "Amber, Amber, Amber." She scuffed at the ground with her chunky boots. "Oh, Amber! Yeah, I know who you're talking about now. You know, I've never actually met Amber. But I'd sure like to, one day."

"That will probably be a very unexpected surprise for her," Cinder observed dryly.

"Yeah, but aren't all the best surprises unexpected?" Sonata asked. "I mean, when I heard that I was getting let out, that was a surprise; and when I met you and realised that you were so, soooo full of yourself that you were never going to see me coming, that was a pretty great surprise! And when I came into this city and realised that it was mine, all mine for the taking!"

She raised her hands up in the air and struck a pose as though she expected pyrotechnics to light up behind her at any moment.

"That was a pretty awesome surprise too," she added, almost sheepishly, as no explosion was forthcoming.

"Is that so?" Cinder asked. "So, Tempest will return to—"

"To the boss, sure," Sonata said.

"And you … will take all of Vale for yourself?" Cinder asked. "With a bargain like that, no wonder you preferred Tempest's offer to my own assistance."

"Don't get me wrong," Sonata replied. "It was really nice of you to offer to set me and my sisters free, very generous, but this way, I can have that and have a whole kingdom to call my own, so, you know, it really wasn't a very hard decision. Speaking of which, can I get a glass of fruit punch and a slice of banoffee pie?"

"Right away, ma'am," someone — Cinder didn't see who — replied.

"Thank you, honey!" Sonata called. "Do you want anything? They'll get me anything I ask for, they're real sweethearts, it's awesome!"

"Thank you, but I'll pass," Cinder muttered. "Do you really think that you'll get away with this?"

Sonata looked around, and shrugged. "I think I'm getting away with it. And, you know, who…" She stopped. "Tempest is always complaining about you, and how close you are to some of your enemies up at Beacon; are you going to tell me that they'll stop me, because Tempest is going to wish that she was here to hear that."

"They know you're here," Cinder said. "They know everything, I told them everything."

"But did they believe you when you told them?" Sonata asked.

"Yes!" Cinder insisted; a lie, of course, but hopefully one that Sonata might believe.

Sonata cocked her head first this way, and then the other. "Not bad, but I don't believe you," she said. "They might believe some of it, but even if they do, it's a little late for them to do anything about it now, right? The warm-up act is almost done, and it's about time for the headliner to start the show. You can't stop the gig now; all the songs are already cued up."

"Maybe they can't stop it from starting," Cinder admitted, "but I would advise you not to take your enemies lightly … if I were at all invested in your victory. As I'm not, then be overconfident by all means. I just hope that I live long enough to get the pleasure of watching you all fall flat on your faces in abject failure."

That will teach Tempest to look down on me, once she has learned for herself that it is not so easy.

"There she is! There she is!" Sonata cried as she strode forward, advancing upon Cinder, reaching out to grab Cinder's face with one hand, squeezing her cheeks. "There's the—"

Cinder shoved her arm away, wrenching her face from Sonata's grasp. "Don't touch me!"

Anger flashed in Sonata's raspberry eyes, eyes that flashed as red as the glittering jewel around her neck as a bestial snarl of anger rose from her throat. She bared her teeth in Cinder's face as she grabbed her by the shoulders, grabbed her so tightly that Cinder could feel her fingernails digging into her skin, even through her dress in some cases.

Cinder forced herself not to wince in pain.

"Don't tell me what to do," Sonata growled. "I'll touch you wherever I want. I'll do whatever I want, and there's nothing you can do about it!"

Here comes a monster to gobble you up.

Cinder tried to force that thought to the back of her mind; she had killed Phoebe, she had put that in the ground, it was all dead and done and behind her now. But it was very difficult in the circumstances.

Her voice trembled a little as she said, "Nice to meet the real you at last."

Sonata's grin seemed a little more vicious now than it had done even moments before. "And nice to know that you've not become a complete sad sack. I mean, really?" She let go of Cinder and turned away, waving her arms back and forth as she skipped across the tarmac towards one of the armoured vehicles.

And as she skipped, she started to sing.

"Slip inside the eye of your mind,

Don't you know you might find,

A better place to play."

She turned around to look at Cinder; Cinder saw that the gem on Sonata's choker was burning even brighter now, brighter than any star in the night sky above them. It burned red, bloody red, as red as wrath and fury.

As red as the wrath that Cinder could feel building up inside of her. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair! After all that she had done, after all that she'd been through, after everything that she had suffered, that it should end like this? End in ignominy, end forgotten, end ignored, end with everyone focussed on Sunset instead of her? She wanted to scream out her frustration at it!

"You said that you'd never been,

But all the things that you'd seen,

Slowly fade away."

Cinder grunted, she seethed, she exhaled from between her gritted teeth, she growled like an animal. Anger pumped through her veins as readily as blood.

Pyrrha could have killed her. She could have spared her this, all of this, the suffering, the humiliation, all of it! With a single stroke of her spear, she could have given Cinder oblivion, granted her the respect that she deserved.

Instead … instead, they had condemned her to this, to be Sonata's prisoner!

Cinder hated them: Pyrrha, who had shown her the cruel mercy that had brought her here; Sunset, who had spat on Cinder's hand when she had offered it freely; Tempest, Amber, Sonata, she hated all of them.

She felt … she felt like Pyrrha, the great Pyrrha, not the milksop at Beacon, the hero of the Mistraliad, she felt as Pyrrha had felt when news was brought to her of Camilla's death.

She felt as though there was nothing left in her but rage. If she were to come across an enemy now, she would kill them straight away, for death would come for all of them, and if she came across one whom she hated, one who had done her wrong, one who was deserving of her wrath, then she would eat their heart up in the marketplace!

And Sonata, who had done her wrong, stood right before her.

Some little good I mean to do, for all my wrath.

Sonata whooped delightedly. "You know, your power really makes a big difference to the taste! It's like the difference between … between avocado crema and no sauce at all. I wonder if Amber will taste this good."

"I thought you'd promised to spare her," Cinder grunted.

"We did," Sonata confirmed. "But what are you gonna do? Not pass up free food, that's for sure!" she giggled.

Cinder scowled. "So … you like surprises? I've got a surprise for you."

Sonata cocked her head. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

Fire blazed from Cinder's right eye. "I can break these restraints!" she yelled, as fire leapt from her hands, fire like the sun blazing all around her, erupting out in all directions, a protective dome of fire expanding outwards, hurling the soldiers around her backwards in all directions, melting the bonds that restrained.

They turned to ash and fell like vanquished grimm to land round Cinder's feet.

Cinder turned and hurled a fireball into the open hatch leading into the Valish transport. The vehicle exploded, a column of fire leaping upwards into the sky as Cinder turned to face Sonata once again.

"And that," she declared, "is how you do pyrotechnics!"

Flames leapt up in the palms of both her hands as Cinder strode towards Sonata, intent upon burning her to—

Sonata opened her mouth, and a crimson beam leapt from her maw to slam straight into Cinder's chest. Cinder felt the blow to her aura; it was stronger than any of Sunset's magic, and stronger than a blow from Pyrrha too; it knocked her off her feet and bore her backwards, hurling her through the burning wreckage of the transport to land heavily upon the tarmac on the other side.

What?

"Surprise!" Sonata called cheerily as she strode through the flames. "Betcha thought that singing was all I could do, right? Well, since you and Tempest were so nice as to feed me so much all by myself, I can do lots of other stuff too. Like this." She began to sing again, a song without words, a soft and lilting melody, almost like a lullaby that a mother might sing to her child.

And as she sang, as she hummed the wordless song, as nectar and ambrosia flowed from her mouth to tickle Cinder's ears, an iridescent light flowed out of her mouth as though her voice was too lovely to be for the ears alone but had to be seen, somehow, to be believed.

Tears sprang to the corners of Cinder's eyes. She was … what had she been thinking? Hate Sonata? Attack Sonata? Kill Sonata? What madness had overtaken her? How beef-witted had she become? Kill Sunset, yes, kill Pyrrha, certainly, but kill Sonata? Strike down this beautiful voice?

Strike down Sonata, and you banished all loveliness from Remnant.

Kill Sonata, and you killed all the world.

Sonata put her hands on her hips. "We're not going to have any more problems, are we?"

Cinder shook her head mutely, for it would be such immeasurable arrogance to dare to make a sound in the presence of a voice so sublime as hers.

"Awesome!" Sonata chirruped. "Because I've got plans for you, Cindy! You'd better believe we're not done with you yet!"
 
Chapter 69 - Atlesian Orders
Atlesian Orders


Lieutenant Colonel Olive Harper, officer commanding the Fourth Squadron, looked young for her rank, never mind her position. She was young for both, but all of her superiors up until this point had given her glowing recommendations — Thornmane in particular had clearly thought the world of her — and she had earned praise from the Mistralians — not always easy — during a tour of duty in and around Anima, not to mention her actions around Crystal City.

And she had friends in high places. Councillor Sleet was a strong advocate for her, even if Ironwood wasn't entirely sure why. Still, when it came to the approval of promotions, having a Councillor on your side was never a bad thing and — combined with her having shown that she'd earned it — had been more than sufficient to carry Olive Harper up the ladder to the rank of lieutenant colonel. And then, in a lucky break for her, Colonel Barrow had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, requiring him to fly to Atlas immediately for treatment. And so, as senior officer, Olive Harper was now in command of an entire squadron: four cruisers, a carrier, a battalion of infantry and their support Paladins, not to mention fighters, bombers, and support vessels.

Ironwood would have worried about some officers thrust into that position, but Harper had shown that she was willing to grab responsibility with both hands.

She was a woman of medium height, who looked her youth — not quite so young as Schnee, but not much older — not least in the way that she dressed. She wore gold hoop earrings in both her ears like some kind of pirate, while she wore her uniform jacket without sleeves — she hadn't torn them off; rather, they had been removed by her tailor, with blue lines marking where they ought to have been — in the kind of move that spoke, if not to the vanity of youth, then at least to the surety that you could reveal what you liked without putting people off by what they saw there. That said, a lot of her arms were covered by black arm warmers, and chunky metallic vambraces with blue lines running down the middle of them protected her upper arms, just as a pair of small metal pauldrons sat on her shoulders like epaulettes.

Her eyes were olive green, and she wore her black hair short, extending down just past her ears at the back, with straight bangs sweeping across her forehead.

Beneath her waist was not revealed by the hologram of her that was currently being projected above Ironwood's desk as she frowned too small eyebrows at him.

"You want me to refuse the right flank of my battalion, sir?" she asked. "Where we meet the Valish?"

"That's correct," Ironwood said. He stood in his office aboard the Valiant, hands clasped behind his back. "Continue to maintain contact with the Patch Light Infantry, but I want you to refuse your flank back behind them so that—" so that if the Valish turn on us, you won't be taken in the flank or rear "—so that if the grimm attack and break through the Valish line, you won't be left with your flank hanging in the air by them breaking."

The frown remained on Harper's face. "Do you think they'll break, sir?"

"They're not us, Harper," Ironwood reminded her. "I'm not saying that means they will break; I'm just saying that we can't rely on them to hold their position as if they were an Atlesian battalion."

"I suppose not, sir, but," Harper paused, "if you want me to refuse back while still covering the same frontage, that's a thinner line; that's less firepower that can be turned to help support the Valish. Rather than making plans in case the Valish infantry can't hold their ground, shouldn't we be trying to support them so that they can hold?"

You'd be absolutely right, if the Valish holding was what we were worried about, Ironwood thought. But he couldn't tell Harper that his real concern was that the Valish would start shooting at them, because things like that had a habit of getting out; suspicion would breed like a fungus, and then they would run the risk that the Atlesian forces, not the Valish, might start the shooting.

"That's why I want you to position one of your ships over the flank, in position to offer supporting fire to the Valish if necessary," Ironwood said, not mentioning the fact that this would also enable the ship to fire down upon the Valish in the worst case scenario. "But I still want to take precautions, just in case."

"Understood, sir," Harper said. "And stand to the troops?"

"They don't all need to spend all night on the firing line," Ironwood said, "but I want increased sentries, and all personnel are to be ready for action." He had already issued orders throughout the fleet cancelling all leaves and ordering everyone back to their ships or units. "All airships fuelled up, all weapons ready; I don't want to be caught napping when the grimm attack."

"Don't you mean if the grimm attack, sir?"

Ironwood sighed. "Look at the numbers of them out there, Harper; do you think it's if or when?"

"We might get lucky, and they'll hold off until we've gone home, sir," Harper suggested.

"Because they're frightened of us?"

"They should be, sir," Harper replied.

Ironwood smiled, but nevertheless said, "Don't get overconfident, Harper."

"No, sir," Harper said. "But I'd like to think I know my own worth, and I know how much my men and women are worth as well."

"So do I, Harper, so do I," Ironwood assured her. "But if I might give you some more advice?"

"Of course, sir."

"Deploy your artillery now," Ironwood said. "It will give you one less thing to worry about when the battle begins."

"Understood, sir," Harper said. "I'll be sorry to miss tomorrow's matches. Or is it today's matches now?"

"Yes, yes, they're today's matches," Ironwood said. "It's been a long night."

"I'm still sorry I won't be able to watch them," Harper said. "So will the squadron."

"I'll record them for you all," Ironwood said. "That'll be all for now, Harper."

Harper saluted. "Sir."

Her image disappeared, leaving Ironwood alone in his office for a moment.

Aware that a moment might be all he had before Schnee and the Ace Ops arrived, Ironwood unclasped his hands from behind him and leaned upon his desk.

He bowed his head.

The fact that he even had to consider how he would respond if the Valish turned on them.

If they were driven to turn on them; he had to remember that it would not be their doing. If it were their doing, that wouldn't make it any easier to bear, but it might make it easier to blow their meagre air power out of the sky before raining down fire upon their ground troops from above.

But it was not their doing, not their fault; they were being … coerced, controlled; Ironwood didn't know enough about this damn siren, this thing that had gotten into the heads or the hearts of the people and the soldiers of Vale; he didn't know enough about it to know how he ought to describe what she had done or was doing.

What he knew enough to understand was that in the eighty years since the Great War, the forces of two kingdoms had never come to blows, there had been no shots fired between them.

And now, that might change.

Ironwood did not fear the judgement of history — he wasn't afraid to have his name written as the officer commanding at ground zero when the shots were fired — but he was afraid of, or afraid for, those who would perish if those shots were fired.

Those who would perish to no avail, for nothing at all.

Would there be a more pointless waste of life than this?

And yet, because of one person, one creature, one thing, it might come to pass.

And his best plan to prevent that, without simply slaughtering the Valish forces … it hung by a somewhat slender thread. There was no guarantee that General Blackthorn would surrender, or that his forces would obey his order to surrender if they were under some kind of magical influence.

But short of battle in the skies above Vale, and in the streets of Vale, and in the fields before Vale, short of fighting the Valish with everything they had at the same time as they were trying to fight the grimm, it was the best he could do.

There was a quick beep to alert him before the voice of Schnee floated up from his desk. "Sir, I'm outside with Ebi and his team."

Ironwood straightened up and, once more, clasped his hands behind his back. "Thank you, Schnee. You may enter."

"Yes, sir," Schnee said as the door into Ironwood's office opened.

The booted feet of Schnee and the five members of Ebi's team echoed a little upon the metallic floor as they trooped into the office, forming a line facing Ironwood's desk. Schnee and Ebi were at the centre of the line, Schnee on the right and Ebi on the left.

Clover Ebi, leader of the squad, was not the tallest man in the unit — that honour went to Zeki — but he was a tall man, with the kind of movie-star good looks that made him seem more like a propaganda image of a soldier than the real thing. His shoulders were broad, but not overly so; his arms were muscular, but not too muscular. His jaw was square, but clean-shaven, and his brown hair was cut short and styled so as to stick upwards just a little bit. His eyes, of course, were blue. He wore a sleeveless white vest — like Harper, and like some of his squadmates, Ebi had the courage of youth to show off those arms of his — with blue accents on the side and the top button undone to reveal the red interior lining. A red bandana was tied around his left arm, while fingerless gloves covered his hands. His pants were white, and his boots were black with blue laces.

Elm Ederne stood on his right, looming over him by a couple of inches; she wasn't even the tallest member of the unit, but she was definitely the broadest in the shoulder and in the arms; she looked like she'd been carved out of the wood that she was named for, such was the impression of solidity that she exuded as she stood at attention. She wore a short mess jacket — very short, all things considered — white, with blue side panels, that stopped several inches short of her waist and was worn open and unbuttoned, exposing the grey body armour that she wore underneath. One sleeve was missing — but only one — and solid metal vambraces surrounded her lower arms. She wore a thin red sash around her waist, and red laces on her blue open-toed boots.

Vine Zeki anchored the line on the right flank. He was the tallest member of the squad, although there was only an inch in it between him and Ederne, and exceedingly thin to go along with it, a slender rapier of a man with a complexion that was paper white and a face that was all angles, a sharp chin and high cheekbones. He had several blue dots tattooed on his face, moving in a straight line upwards from his cheek, culminating in a third eye set in the middle of his forehead. His hair was shaved so short that he was practically bald, but what could be seen of it was grey. With the best will in the world, nobody would be putting him on any propaganda posters. He wore a long tailcoat, white with blue side panels and blue sleeves, worn open to reveal the two necklaces of grey beads that hung from his neck across his chest — prayer beads, Ironwood believed; he knew that Zeki belonged to some sort of Mistralian mystery cult, but he didn't have the details; if he had, it wouldn't have been much of a mystery, would it? — but unlike Ebi, and indeed Ederne, his pants were blue instead of white, with high, steel-toecapped boots that came up past his knees. He wore two broad sashes, one around his waist and the other across his chest from shoulder to thigh, covering most of the jacket as it went. On his right wrist, he wore more beads, three loose-hanging bracelets in total, while on his left, a pair of solid silver bangles hung.

Harriet Bree stood on Schnee's left, with the difference in height between them being so severe that it seemed almost as though there was a gap in the formation. She was practically bald, with just two tufts of pale blonde hair sticking up with wings over the centre of her forehead, and a narrow strip of dark brown hair running down the centre of her head apart from that. Her eyes were magenta, set in a round face of dark complexion. She wore a dark blue t-shirt with a red neckerchief, and over it, a short-sleeved white vest with blue side panels matching the blue lines down the outsides of her pants. While the other members of the squad did not have their weapons with them, Bree was wearing hers, the harness of her Fast Knuckles strapped across her chest, ready to deploy from her back to her arms at any moment.

Tortuga Castellon anchored the left flank, a burly figure but not quite so much so as Ederne, with dark green scales — he was a tortoise faunus — mottling his skin, visible mostly on his face and his left arm, his most visible features. His neck was hidden beneath the thick — tidy and well-groomed, but long and thick nonetheless — black beard, flecked with grey, that fell from his neck to cover half his chest, while his blue jacket had its white right sleeve to cover up that arm, leaving only the left visible. A pair of black fingerless gloves covered his hands, while a red pocket handkerchief jutted up out of the breast pocket of his jacket. His hair was black, tied in a queue behind his head, and like his beard, it was starting to show a little grey in it.

"Reporting as ordered, sir," Ebi said.

"At ease," Ironwood said.

Six feet slammed into the deck in unison, the sound reverberating off the walls of the office.

"I know it's late," Ironwood said. "Rest assured, I wouldn't be keeping you from your bunks if it weren't important." He turned away, looking out of the window. Vale was spread out before him, illuminated by a vast array of lights, some blinking, others still. So many lights, such a vast city. Possibly a battleground, if their enemies had their way.

"What I am about to tell you does not leave this room," he said, "under pain of court martial. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Schnee said, her voice inflected with the slightest hint of curiosity.

Ironwood turned back to them. "As you may be aware," he said, "Beacon's Team Sapphire, with support from our own Team Rosepetal, managed to capture a prisoner tonight, the wanted criminal Cinder Fall."

"Yes, sir," Ebi said. He didn't mention what else had happened tonight. None of them did.

"She had some disturbing intelligence to share," Ironwood went on. "According to Miss Fall…" He paused. "The Valish high command has been compromised and may become hostile."

Castellon bit back a curse, while Ederne exclaimed, "What?" Ebi's eyebrows rose, while Schnee frowned. Bree's hands clenched into fists. Only Zeki seemed unmoved by what he had just heard.

"'Compromised,' sir?" Ebi asked. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that they may attempt to engage us in battle," Ironwood said.

Ederne whistled.

"Permission to speak, sir?" Bree asked.

"Go ahead, Bree," Ironwood said.

"How sure are we of this intel, sir?" asked Bree. "How do we know we aren't being fed a bunch of bull just to make us jump at shadows?"

"We don't," Ironwood said bluntly. "Which is why I'm telling you this in private, on pain of court martial; I don't want to give the fleet a case of itchy trigger fingers towards what are still our allies. But I also don't want to be caught with our pants down if the intel turns out to be correct."

"What are our orders, sir?" asked Schnee.

Ironwood unclasped his hands from behind his back, getting out his scroll and placing it on his desk. A holographic image appeared over said desk, between Ironwood on the one hand and his personnel on the other.

The image showed a large building, in the brutalist concrete style, with four tall, almost monolithic towers rising above the lower sections that connected them. Atop each tower was set a large, double-barrelled anti-air gun. The centre of the structure was hollow, an open square like the courtyard of an old castle — and just like a castle, there were very few windows in the concrete. Although roads ran along all four sides of the structure, there were concrete barricades set up at the corners of the roads to make approaching by car an impossibility past a certain point.

"This is the command headquarters of the Valish Defence Force," Ironwood explained. "It's where their Department of Defence staff are based, and it's where, in the event of an attack on Vale, the high command will issue their orders from. In the event of hostilities, I want you to descend upon the command centre, take General Blackthorn and his senior officers prisoner, and compel him to order his troops to surrender and stand down." He paused. "I'm aware that this isn't an easy assignment. I'm telling you this now so that you have time to consider your approach."

"Any reason we can't just level the place from the air, sir?" asked Ederne.

"Two reasons," Ironwood said, "the first being that the command centre isn't in the building; it's in a bunker underneath it; we could level the whole building, and they'd still be alright in there, and they'd be harder to get to. The second reason is that I don't want them dead; I want them to order their forces to surrender before we have to turn Vale into a battlefield. Just because the Valish officers are about to do something stupid doesn't mean the soldiers should have to suffer the consequences."

Ebi nodded. "Is it just us, sir, or—?"

"Additional support is possible," Ironwood said, "but the grimm outside the walls remain our primary concern, and the Valish forces will be shooting at us at the same time, so resources will be tight. What's on your mind?"

"An airstrike to take out those turrets would be a good start, sir," Ebi observed.

Ironwood nodded. "That should be doable. Anything else?"

Ebi glanced towards Bree. "Harriet, any thoughts?"

Bree frowned. "Do we have schematics on the bunker, sir? Location relative to the building, access points?"

"Unfortunately not," Ironwood replied. "I know it exists, but the Valish haven't shared the details."

"I wonder why," muttered Castellon.

"That'll slow us down," Bree said. She paused. "If they are planning to turn on us, then they'll be set up to defend their base, but on the assumption that their defences will be facing outwards, our best bet would be to insert aerially into the centre courtyard and gain entry into the building and then the bunker from there."

"If we had another squad," Schnee began. Then it was her turn to pause for a moment, cupping her chin with one hand. "Sir, if we have the manpower for it, I'll lead a squad in a diversionary attack against the exterior of the headquarters, pinning down the defenders and allowing Ebi's unit to enter from the courtyard while the defenders are distracted."

"Specialists or Military Huntsmen?"

"Specialists would be ideal, sir," Schnee replied. "And some knights, to add to the impression of a serious offensive effort."

"And two squads of Military Huntsmen," Bree added.

"'Two squads'?" Ederne asked.

Harriet nodded. "Two Skyrays filled with military huntsmen; one squad led by Clover, with Tortuga and me, the other with Elm and Vine. As soon as the air defences are down and Schnee's squad has engaged the enemy, we drop into the courtyard, then split up. Clover goes west, Elm and Vine go east, we each look for a way down into the bunker while continuing to split the defending forces."

"You did hear what I said about resources being tight?" asked Ironwood

"Yes sir," Bree said. "And if it's too much, then we can cut our cloth. But it's the best plan that I can come up with, in view of our lack of intel."

"If we could be certain of what you'd be up against in there, then we could be certain of whether this was necessary," Ironwood muttered. He looked at the hologram. "What are your thoughts on Bree's plan, Ebi?"

"I've learned to trust Harriet's judgement, sir," Ebi said. "If she thinks that this is our best option, then I'm inclined to agree with her." He took a breath. "However, in light of our circumstances, I think that we could manage this by ourselves, inserting—"

"You can have two mixed squads, each with two military huntsmen and six marines," Ironwood said. "I can't spare that many military huntsmen, but we won't need the marines on Valiant; we shouldn't, anyway." He turned his attention to Schnee. "You can have one squad of specialists; you can choose them yourself, but don't tell them about this until it becomes necessary. As far as anyone outside of this room knows, this was a plan that you came up with on the fly in the face of an unexpected emergency, understood?"

"Perfectly, sir," Zeki said.

"No one will breathe a word of it, sir," Ebi said.

"Sir," said Schnee. "If I may, what are the Valish thinking of? There are grimm outside the walls, and they're planning to attack us?"

"I wish I knew, Schnee," Ironwood said. "I wish I could say for certain that the Valish were acting rationally. I'm not sure that that's true."

"Anger does make people act irrationally," Zeki observed, "and a great deal of anger has been whipped up against us in the streets of Vale."

"Quite," Ironwood said. It was not entirely what he'd meant, but he'd take it anyway. "Remember, try and avoid Valish casualties if you can; it's not their fault they're being led down this path. But, at the same time, the mission comes first."

"Of course, sir," Ebi said. "You can rely on us."

"I'm sure I can," Ironwood said. "Everyone is going to be on standby for the next few days, due to the threat of the grimm attack, so you won't be alone in that, but stay sharp. That's all, dismissed, get some sleep."

"Yes, sir!" Ebi said as all six specialists came to attention, feet slamming down upon the floor.

Ebi and Schnee saluted, which Ironwood returned, before they turned to leave, trooping out of his office as they had entered it.

Only Schnee lingered, remaining behind when all the others had gone.

"Something on your mind, Schnee?" Ironwood asked, as the door into the office closed with Schnee still on his side of it.

Schnee hesitated for a moment. "Permission … to ask two questions, sir?"

Ironwood nodded. "Granted."

"Compromised by who, sir?" asked Schnee.

"Hmm?"

"You said that the Valish high command had been compromised," Schnee reminded him. "But you didn't say by who?"

Ironwood turned away from her, moving towards the window once again. "I would like to tell you everything, Schnee," he said. "And I will. Just not tonight. Focus on the mission for now. Answers will come later."

"I see, sir," Schnee murmured.

"Does that answer your other question as well?" asked Ironwood.

"No, sir," Schnee replied. "My other question … are you going to be getting some sleep yourself?"

Ironwood chuckled. "Soon, Schnee, yes. Not immediately, but soon."

"I see," Schnee murmured. "Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight, Schnee," Ironwood replied.

He heard the door open, and he saw Schnee's reflection in the window disappear, swallowed by the closing of the door again.

Ironwood remained at the window, looking out across the city. How many people, he wondered, in that city down below, were aware of the situation they were in? How many knew about the grimm, about the likelihood of a new attack on Vale? How good a job had the tournament done in distracting all of them?

How little had the First Councillor decided to tell them? How many secrets had he decided to keep in the public interest?

Could they get through this without the people finding out?

Probably not, but that didn't mean that it wasn't worth trying.

Ironwood walked back to his desk and sat down in his seat. As he had told Schnee, he was going to go to bed, but not quite yet. He had a couple more calls to make first.

He pushed a button on his desk, connecting him to the Valiant's CIC. "Hodgson, put me through to Mistralian Polemarch Yeoh; voice only."

"Aye, sir," Hodgson said. Des Voeux's watch had ended by now; Hodgson was his replacement on the comms. "Patching you through … assuming that she's still awake to take calls, sir. There may not be a reply."

"I'm aware, Hodgson," Ironwood said. If she is asleep, she might be smarter than I am. "But I need you to try anyway."

"Aye aye, sir," Hodgson said.

There was a moment of silence; that moment was followed by another, and another, silence stretching out as there was no reply from Polemarch Yeoh. Ironwood was about to accept that she had turned in and give it up for the night, to try again tomorrow, when there was an answer, the voice of Polemarch Yeoh rising up from his desk to waft into the office.

"General Ironwood," she said, with a slight trace of a yawn in her voice. "I wasn't expecting to hear from you at such an hour."

"I hope I didn't wake you," Ironwood said.

"No, although you should have," Yeoh replied. "I was toasting our successes with some of the other officers. In the tournament, I mean."

"Yes, I gathered that," Ironwood said. "Are two students through to the final round really worth toasting?"

"Three students, General, please," Yeoh said, a hint of reproach entering her tone.

Ironwood chuckled. "Very well, three students. I'm sure you're very proud."

"As are you, I'm sure, for all that you have not been so successful," Yeoh said.

Ironwood didn't bother to respond to that. "I'm sorry to have dragged you away from your drink of choice," he said, "but I'm afraid that this isn't a social call."

"Somehow, I thought it wouldn't be," Yeoh said. "Does this have anything to do with the capture of that rogue Cinder Fall by Pyrrha Nikos and her teammates — and some of your students were present as well, I believe, congratulations."

"I have to admit that Team Sapphire did most of the work," Ironwood said. "But yes, this is related."

"Does it have to do with the accusations made against Sunset Shimmer?" asked Yeoh. "You don't believe them, I hope?"

Ironwood raised his eyebrows, for all that he knew that the Polemarch couldn't see the gesture. "You're convinced of her innocence? Do you know Miss Shimmer?"

"No, I don't," Yeoh said. "And in truth, I don't know that she didn't do this thing that she is accused of. But what I do know is that Lady Nikos entrusted that girl with Soteria, the black sword of the Kommenos champions, a blade to which the Nikos family now has undeniable right, now that Lady Kommenos is dead. Sunset Shimmer is the bearer of the sword not only in the physical possession of the blade but also in having received it from the hand of she who had the unquestionable right to bestow it on her."

"I hope you'll forgive me when I say that I'm afraid I'll never fully understand Mistralians," Ironwood murmured.

"You Atlesians, on the other hand, are so simple to comprehend," Yeoh said, leaving Ironwood with the distinct feeling that he'd just been insulted, "but my point is that the bearer of Soteria could never do anything dishonourable."

"Because only someone incapable of dishonour would be given the sword?" Ironwood asked. "Or because the act of carrying the sword renders her every action honourable by default?"

"The sword will not serve one who is unworthy of it," Yeoh said.

"I see," Ironwood murmured. He didn't, actually, but he felt that further discussion upon the point was unlikely to bring him any enlightenment so he was prepared to move on to the matter at hand. "As it happens, that isn't why I'm calling you. I'm calling you because Cinder Fall was interrogated tonight, and she suggested…" He trailed off.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to spit it out, General, if you want my assistance," Yeoh said after a moment's silence. "I can't help you based on my guess of what you might say."

"She suggested that the Valish senior officers had been compromised," Ironwood said, "and that they might turn hostile towards my forces."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line. "That … is quite an accusation to make," Yeoh said. "Did she offer any proof?"

"What proof could she have offered?" Ironwood asked.

"A letter?" Yeoh suggested. "An incriminating note? A deleted email, retrieved from a server, perhaps?"

Ironwood could not help but chuckle lightly. "No such luck, I'm afraid."

"And yet, you don't discount the possibility that she's telling the truth," Yeoh said. "If you did, you wouldn't be calling me."

"I know that you've also noticed General Blackthorn's … strange behaviour lately," Ironwood said. "With regards to the grimm, amongst other things."

"I half think that a man who was planning to stab you in the back might be a little less obvious about it," Yeoh observed. "But, yes, I have noticed. And I did promise you my assistance, didn't I? Although in the event of a conflict between yourself and the Valish, I'm not sure my forces would be needed to tip the scales."

"Don't worry," Ironwood said, "I'm not asking you to fight the Valish Defence Forces; but if their troops pull back from their position on the front lines, if they abandon their posts, can you bring your troops in to plug the gap? Or, even if the Valish attempt to hold their ground, can you at least stand by as a reserve? I'm afraid they might not have the inclination or the ability to bring up fresh troops if the Red Line comes under pressure."

Yeoh sighed. "And to think, I thought this might be something of a vacation," she whispered. "My men are very green, General, and if I was going to blood them, I would hope to do it in calmer circumstances than facing a grimm horde."

"You have my sympathies," Ironwood said, "but the circumstances have been chosen for us; we can't back out just because we don't like it."

"Well, I could sail away," Yeoh said. "I still have the ships for it."

Ironwood was very still, for all the good that stillness would do him on a voice-only call. "Are you telling me that this is goodbye?"

"No, General Ironwood, fear not," Yeoh said. "If I were to flee back to Mistral with my tail between my legs, especially abandoning the Haven students, I would be humiliated back home, and deservedly so. No, as you say, the circumstances have been set for us; all we can do is navigate the waters as best we can. But, as I say, my troops are green in more ways than just their uniforms, and my ship — that I have still not handed over to the Valish — is…"

"Old?" Ironwood suggested.

"A flying bucket," Yeoh said. "If we are forced to occupy the Valish line, or even reinforce it, I will need fire support from your airships."

"And you'll get it," Ironwood said. "You have my word on that."

"And the word of an Atlesian officer is his bond," said Yeoh. "Very well, General Ironwood, although I'm sure you won't mind me saying that I hope you're wrong about this."

"Believe me, Polemarch Yeoh, I hope I'm wrong about this too," Ironwood replied. "But thank you; I might be able to put some of my men on the line alongside yours, but … thank you. It's good to know that there's someone out here that I don't have to worry about."

"Instead you've given me something to worry about," Yeoh muttered.

"My apologies," Ironwood said. "I'll let you go now, and give you no more additional problems."

"Thank you, General; unfortunately, I seem to have lost my appetite for further toasting," Yeoh said. "I'm sure that, if or when the shooting starts, we will speak again. Until then, good night. Yeoh out."

Ironwood leaned back in his chair.

That's one less thing to worry about.

But not the last thing to worry about.

He had left … had he left the most difficult conversation for last?

Luna.

The very idea, the fact that they knew who she was, and what she was.

The fact that Leo had told them.

I always knew he didn't deserve her.

But then, thinking like that had been what got him into trouble with Luna in the first place.

Even so, if he had had Leo in his office right now, then what he'd do to him would have been no one's business.

He found his hands had clenched just thinking about him. Putting Luna in danger, putting Twilight in danger, putting everyone in danger, how could … how?

At least Sunset Shimmer had been trying to save other people's lives and not her own.

It didn't excuse what she'd done, but it did make it a little less thoroughly despicable than Leo's treachery.

If he was a traitor; Ironwood supposed that he should concede that it might be another lie from Cinder Fall; concede it, he begrudgingly did. But if Qrow reached Mistral and found that Leo was the traitor in their ranks … unfortunately, it wouldn't surprise him.

Apart from anything else, there weren't that many people who knew who all the Maidens were.

At least we found out now, rather than when Salem started to move on Atlas.

That was the comfort in this situation; Salem might know that Luna was the Winter Maiden, but she wasn't coming for her now, although she might have more people at her disposal than they had thought — that reminded him; Ozpin had forgotten to ask Cinder Fall about the virus she'd tried to plant in the CCT; Ironwood himself was curious as to who had designed it; it was also a reminder to himself to speak to Lulamoon and Glimmer about Shadow tomorrow morning, first thing — she still didn't have the numbers to try for Vale and Atlas at once. She would finish her business in Vale first, or try to, and only then would she try for Mistral or Atlas or Vacuo. They still had time.

Luna still had time.

Ironwood picked up his scroll from off the desk — the hologram of Valish headquarters had been there all this time, ever since Schnee and Ebi and the others had left; it only disappeared as he took up his scroll in his hand — and found Luna's number.

He didn't speak to her very often. There wasn't a lot to say anymore.

Nevertheless, he was confident that she would still be up as she gave the picture of her face a little tap with one finger.

It was another voice only call. He probably wasn't a great sight to see at the moment.

He was rewarded with a very swift answer, so fast that it was almost immediate.

"James," Luna said. "What are you doing calling me so late? You woke me."

"Did I?" Ironwood asked sceptically. "A night owl like you?"

"Can you not conceive that it might be possible that I've changed in the time since we were intimately acquainted?" asked Luna, in a prickly tone.

"Have you?" inquired Ironwood.

There was a pause. "No," Luna admitted. "But I might have. And, perhaps more to the point, while I was a night owl, while I suppose I have to admit that I still am a night owl, you never were." Concern entered her voice. "James, what are you doing up so late?" Concern departed her voice as swiftly as it had entered it. "You aren't picking up all of Ozpin's bad habits, are you? You're not the old man; you need rest."

"And you don't?"

"I can turn moonlight into energy; it's my semblance," Luna declared.

"No," Ironwood said, "it isn't."

"Well, if you're going to be pedantic about it," Luna said airily. "What is it, James? I know you wouldn't be calling me if it wasn't important."

Ironwood wished that he didn't have to tell her. He wished that they could have just talked for longer — about the tournament, about Canterlot, about … anything at all. But she was right; he did have something important to discuss with her, something that she needed to know. "I've got bad news, Luna. I need you to pack your bags and come to Atlas; Canterlot isn't safe for you anymore. Salem knows that you're the Winter Maiden."

"She … how?" Luna asked.

"We aren't certain yet, but she knows the identities of all the Maidens, and … their locations," Ironwood said. One of the reasons why the list of potential traitors in their ranks was so small was that the four Maidens were not privy to the identities of their fellow Maidens, only the headmasters and their lieutenants — where they had them — knew that. Given that two of the current four Maidens had found the pressure of the job too much for them, that seemed like a wise decision on Ozpin's part. "They know who you are, and they know where you are; you need to move."

"How do you know this?" Luna asked. "How do you know they know?"

"We captured one of Salem's operatives tonight; she confessed … she confessed."

"And you believe her?"

"I don't believe every word that came out of her mouth, but I believe this," Ironwood said. "She had details about the Maidens that were accurate, and that she could only have gotten from an informant—"

"Did she name this informant?"

"We don't know that he—"

"He?" Luna asked. "It can't be Ozpin, and if you were the mole, you wouldn't be calling me, so is it Theodore or Leo?"

"We don't know for certain that it's either of them," Ironwood said.

"But you believe … it's Leo, isn't it?" Luna asked, her voice soft.

Ironwood closed his eyes. "How did you guess?"

"Because if it were Theodore, you wouldn't be dancing around it so much," Luna said. "But because it was Leo, you felt that you shouldn't tell me."

"As I'm saying, we don't know—"

"Who else could it be?" Luna demanded. "Who else would know?"

"Theodore?" Ironwood suggested. "The naming of Leo could be misdirection."

"But you don't think so," Luna said.

"No," Ironwood said. "No, I don't. There is other evidence against Leo besides the word of this one captive."

"I see," Luna whispered.

Ironwood leaned forwards, for all the good it did. "It's not your fault, Luna."

"I know perfectly well that it isn't my fault; it's his fault!" Luna exclaimed. "I just … I thought that we had left things on better terms than for him to sell me out to Salem."

"I don't think it was anything personal," Ironwood said.

"Then why?" Luna demanded. "Why would … why, James? Answer me that, why? Why would he do something like this?"

"Apparently, it was to save himself," Ironwood said. "I'm told he's lost hope."

Luna sighed. "I see. Well, that … that is disappointing, isn't it? What will become of him?"

"Ozpin has sent Qrow to Mistral," Ironwood said. "To get to the truth and … take care of it, if necessary."

"Of course," Luna murmured. "And … who will be the new headmaster of Haven?"

"Glynda, perhaps," Ironwood said. "Although she was reluctant, she eventually agreed to take the job."

"She will do well there, I think," Luna said softly. "Although you might have put in a good word for Celestia or myself."

"You?" Ironwood cried. "Luna, didn't you hear what I said, your location has been compromised, you can't stay in Canterlot anymore—"

"Yes, James, I heard you perfectly well," Luna said. "And…" — she sighed once more — "as much as it pains me, as much as I would like to sit here and tell you point blank that I'm not leaving, that I like it here, that I'm needed here—"

"You know that if you stay—"

"Yes, I know that if I stay, then I put the children in danger!" Luna snapped. "That's why I said that that was what I would like to say! If you're going to call me up in the middle of the night to uproot me from my life and drag me into some box in Atlas, then kindly allow me to be a little bit annoyed about it!"

Ironwood didn't say anything for a few seconds. When he did speak, he was quiet, "Of course. I know that this isn't ideal."

"I don't want to be alone, James," Luna said. "I don't want to put the children in danger, I obviously don't want them to be caught in the crossfire, but … this school, the children, Celestia … it's my life. I don't want to be alone."

"You won't be alone; you'll be in Atlas," Ironwood told her.

"Doing what?" Luna demanded. "Hiding?"

"I was going to put you in command of a ship," Ironwood said. "Ozpin didn't like the idea."

There was a moment of silence from Luna. "Really?"

"Why not?" Ironwood asked. "Don't you think you could handle it?"

"I'd like to think I could," Luna said. "But Ozpin does not?"

"He's worried you'll die in a crash," Ironwood said.

"Old worrywart," Luna grumbled. "So it is to be a black box then, a small room and occasional visits from you?"

"How about a classroom instead?" suggested Ironwood, as an idea struck him.

Another pause from Luna, before she said, "A classroom?"

"You have the experience for it," Ironwood said. "And classrooms don't crash."

"Not usually," Luna murmured dryly. "But … a classroom? At Atlas Academy?"

"Not a remarkable step, for a teacher at a combat school," Ironwood said. "Nobody will think it strange. In fact, it will raise a lot fewer eyebrows than command of a cruiser."

"But what would I teach?" asked Luna. "There are no vacancies at Atlas, and if you fire a perfectly good teacher—"

"Actually, I was thinking of adding a subject to the curriculum," Ironwood said. "One that … doesn't always get the exposure that it perhaps should: Nightmares. I mean, aside from being a huntress and a Maiden, you're also a trained nightmare hunter. I wonder where you find the time."

"Very droll, James."

"I'm being serious about the class," Ironwood said. "You could teach the students about nightmares: how they hunt, who they're attracted to, what to do if you think someone has been infected by a nightmare; and, of course, how to deal with them."

"It's niche," Luna warned him.

"So is theology, but you can still get a doctorate in it," Ironwood pointed out. "Nightmares exist, they're a threat, and there's a credible case to be made that people — or at least, future huntsmen and huntresses — should be better informed about them than they are. It's a case I can make when it comes to getting you on the staff."

From Luna's tone, Ironwood guessed that she was smiling as she said, "You've thought this through."

"Actually, it just came to me," Ironwood said.

"Then I commend you on your improvisational skills," Luna said. "You … you would really do this? You would create a whole new subject just for me?"

Ironwood leaned back in his chair once more. "One of my students taught me something this year, Luna, or rather, they reminded me of something that I knew to be true in the abstract, but … people aren't meant to live in cages. Even if we say it's for the greater good, they … that still doesn't give us the right to confine them. I don't want to … I want to be a better man than that."

"You are."

"I wasn't," Ironwood said. "Not to her."

"Past tense?" Luna asked. "Is she—?"

"Transferring," Ironwood said. "She's free. I can't set you free, Luna, the burden that you carry doesn't allow for that, but that doesn't mean I have to confine you. I know this isn't what you sought—"

"But it may … it will … it will do," Luna said, before he could finish. "It does not change the fact that it will be a wrench to leave … but it will do. Thank you, James, thank you with … thank you."
 
yikes.... hope for the best, but prepare for the worse.... But this is a really nasty situation Ironwood has found himself in concerning the Sonata's Siren influence on the upper echelons of the Valish Defence Forces. Again, I couldn't help but be reminded of Warhammer 40k due to the Chaos corruption shoutouts regarding the the Grimm cultists and Sonata's Siren spell influencing the Valish military.

This is really becoming a nasty train wreck and bomb explosion setup that is building up and you really worry how this man-made disaster is going to blow up....




Also, the conversation between Luna and Ironwood brought a smile to my face, not just the more personal interactions between them, which brought up even more of both characters' depths and pasts, but also officially confirmed that elements from Ice Queendom are officially part of SAPR Rewrite's world-building, such as the Nightmare Grimm, Nightmare Hunters and (hopefully) the Ice Queendom character, Shion Zaiden.

I've been hoping the said elements from Ice Queendom would become part of the SAPR Rewrite ever since the strong hints of Sunset's empathy Semblance actually meshing well with the Dream Realm (in the first version of SAPR) and the SAPR Rewrite side-story chapters involving the Equestrian Tantabus and further hints when healing Amber from her coma that Sunset's empathy Semblance makes her have a strong potential to be trained as a Nightmare Hunter.

Plus, Remnant!Luna's personal in-world training as a Nightmare Hunter fits in nicely with her Equestrian counterpart's/Princess Luna's role and powers as guardian of the Dream Realm within Equestria.

Any chance you intend to use these new Ice Queendom references to give further incentives for Sunset to better train in mastering her empathy Semblance @ScipioSmith?
 
Chapter 70 - First Response
First Response


Professor Port's voice was booming, echoing, descending upon Pyrrha's ears from all sides, louder even than the cheering of the crowds that descended upon her like waves about to flood the colosseum.

"And there we have it! After that final match, the champion of the fortieth Vytal Festival tournament is … Pyrrha Nikos!"

Pyrrha couldn't see who she had beaten in this final match; an indistinct shape lay at her feet, faceless, lacking in details … although she thought that they were too short to be Rainbow Dash, they were more the size of Arslan, or perhaps Yang.

But it was hard to tell; they were little more than a shadow on the ground.

It was the same with the crowd too, the crowd that cheered her on, that cried out her name over and over, that shouted until their throats must have been hoarse; they filled up the arena, they made so much noise that it was as if the whole of Remnant had to come to this place to witness and acclaim her glory and yet … and yet, she could hardly see them. They were so indistinct; she knew that they were there, and yet, they were nothing but a blur in her eyes.

The world was bright, the sun shone full down upon her through the gap in the centre of the arena, and yet, she could hardly see anything. All things past the floor on which she stood, the floating platform raised up out of the arena floor, all else was vague and insubstantial to her.

Yet, Pyrrha stood in the centre of the Amity Colosseum, arms raised up in triumph, bearing her arms that they might catch the sunlight and gleam golden, letting the acclaim fall upon her like rain, so that even as the floor descended down, she was raised to the skies by the cheering of the crowd.

She was the Vytal champion, she was the victor, she was acclaimed.

She was alone.

Pyrrha was alone; she stood alone, and she could not see anyone who might alleviate that loneliness. Even as the surface upon which she stood descended back down onto the ground, no one came to join her; Jaune did not emerge out of the tunnels to run to her side and take her in his arms, Ruby did not offer her congratulations, and Sunset … Sunset would not come, of course, not now. No sign of Penny, either.

She was alone; even her opponent, whoever they might be, had vanished. Pyrrha had taken her eye off them for a moment, raising her head to soak up the cheering of the crowd, and they had disappeared.

And everything was growing darker. She could still hear perfectly well, the cheering went on as lustily as ever, but she could see even less than before, even the sun…

The sun was being blocked by the autumn leaves that were falling from … somewhere. Pyrrha knew not whence they came, but they deluged her just as much as the cheering did, falling out of the sky as though some airship hovering overhead had brought a shipload of maple leaves, rich and golden and perfect, and now released them to fall down through the hole in the roof to fall slowly down towards the surface, surrounding Pyrrha. None landed on her, none touched her skin, none got caught in her long ponytail, but they fell down all around her in a shower of gold and red, forming a thick carpet all around so that the grey surface on which she had fought this battle disappeared completely.

The cheering went on, and on, and on.

Pyrrha turned around, and a gasp escaped her lips because in place of the exit, the tunnel leading out from the battlefield, instead, there stood before her a set of stone steps leading upwards, like the steps leading up to the Temple of Victory in Mistral.

Pyrrha's feet bore her towards those steps almost without thought; she could do nothing else, go nowhere else; she was compelled there, drawn by a power greater than her will. Her high-heeled boots stepped lightly over the autumn leaves, crunching them underfoot as she reached the steps and, the cheering of the crowd still ringing in her ears, began to climb.

There was something at the top of the steps, something that became visible even as the rest of the world darkened around her: an altar, and standing above the altar as the statue of Victory loomed in the temple, was a statue of Fall.

She looked exactly as she had done in the illustrations of the book of fairy tales which her mother had read to her when Pyrrha was young and there had been less formality and sometime awkwardness between them, before Pyrrha had become such an obvious prodigy, when there had been more time for them to simply be mother and daughter.

This statue had the same hair, cut short into a bob, with straight cut bangs, as the illustration in the book; she wore the same blouse with the sleeves rolled up above her elbow, the same scarf tied around her neck, the same long skirt; she
was Fall.

She was the Fall Maiden.

The crowd cheered on as Pyrrha climbed the steps. They cheered for all that Pyrrha could not see them.

All she could see now was the statue looming over her and the altar of pure white marble.

The altar on which had been laid all her victories, all the spoils that she had dedicated in the Temple of Victory, the laurels of her tournament victories … there was the golden horse that she had had commissioned after Team SAPR's defeat of the Karkadann, the golden horse with sapphire eyes and onyx hooves and fiery hair and tail like Sunset had.

Pyrrha's circlet was in her hands. She didn't remember taking it off, but there it was nevertheless, in her palms, the gold bright against the brown of her gloves, and she slowly laid it down upon the altar with her laurel wreaths.

The last of her glories offered to the Fall Maiden.

The crowd kept cheering as a flame leapt up from nowhere and consumed all of Pyrrha's offerings and trophies, the fire devouring up the gold, and turning it to ashes until nothing remained.

Nothing but the cheering.


Pyrrha's eyes opened upon darkness, and for a moment, she thought with a sense of rising panic that it might be the darkness of oblivion, until someone switched the light on to illuminate the very familiar ceiling of the Team SAPR dorm room.

Pyrrha closed her eyes and attempted to restrict her sigh of relief to a gentle breath that would escape notice.

A dream. Just a dream.

"Good morning, everybody!" Penny declared cheerily. "I hope you all slept well!"

"Okay, I guess," Jaune muttered. "But good morning anyway, Penny. I mean, I guess it is a pretty good morning. At least, I hope it is. What do you think, Pyrrha? Is it a good morning?"

Pyrrha might, uncharacteristically, have liked to simply lie in bed, lights on or no, for a few moments at least, but Jaune's question proved to be the push that she needed to force herself to sit up and throw the blankets off of her as she swung her legs out to touch the floor beneath her feet.

"Good morning," she said softly. She would have smiled at him and hoped that he would smile at her in turn, and that would have made her feel a little better instantly, but … she wasn't sure how he would take it. She wasn't entirely sure how he felt. And so she said, "As to whether it is a good morning or not…" She got up, and took a step towards the curtains before she yanked them open, allowing the light of the rising sun to drift in and compete with the artificial light.

It being the autumn, there was not so much sunlight that they could do without the lights on.

"It certainly seems to be a fine day for it," Pyrrha said. "I can hardly see a cloud."

"That's not exactly what I—" Jaune began.

"That's fantastic!" Penny declared. "We wouldn't want rain on your big day! Not to mention Rainbow Dash, and your friend Arslan, and Yang, and … do you think Sun will go forward into the one-on-one round, or will it be Neptune?"

"I think it will be Sun," Pyrrha said, glad of the distraction; she turned to face Penny. "Neptune is not unskilled, to be sure, but he does not … Sun is not only the more skilled, but he has the more flair in his performance." One corner of her lip twitched upwards. "And I think he'll want to show off for Blake."

Amber mumbled wordlessly for a few moments, before some comprehensible words made their way out of her mouth. "Would whoever drew those curtains mind pulling them back again, and whoever turned the lights on turn them off? I'm afraid I'm not ready for this day to start yet."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Amber," Penny said, "but I think that we probably need to get up and start getting ready."

"Really?" Amber groaned.

"What's the matter?" Dove asked, getting up off the camp bed, stretching his arms up. "Didn't you sleep well?"

Amber was silent for a moment, before she said, "I certainly don't feel as though I did. I had the strangest dream last night."

"Like a nightmare?" asked Ruby, as she sat up in bed.

Amber appeared to concede that they were not going to turn off the lights and close the curtains, before she, too, sat up in bed. "No, it wasn't a nightmare," she explained. "I … I dreamed I dined with Ozpin, that we dined with him, you and I," she said to Dove. "We … were in his office, only there was a giant dining table set up there, and we were sitting at one end, and Ozpin was sitting at the other end, and there was…" She trailed off.

Dove sat down on the bed, although the fact that Amber's legs were still running down the length of the bed meant that he had to perch awkwardly upon the edge of it. Nevertheless, his gaze was wholly upon her, and he reached out to take her hand, and his voice was ever so tender as he asked, "There was what?"

"A … a great feast," Amber said, turning her back on Dove as she swung her legs out of the other side of the bed. "A great feast laid out before us, so great that the table groaned beneath it, but … anything that I ate, it turned to ashes in my mouth, it tasted foul, rotten even." She looked at him. "You … looked as though you wanted to be sick."

"That doesn't sound great," Ruby muttered. "But I wouldn't lose any sleep over it. It's just a dream, after all."

"Is it?" Pyrrha asked softly.

Ruby frowned. "Yes," she said. "Yes, that's all it was, because it was a dream."

"And yet, dreams … can have power, upon occasion," Pyrrha replied. "Not always, of course; many times, false dreams fly swiftly through the gate of ivory, but every now and then, a true dream will float through the gate of sawn horn to touch our minds with messages."

"Messages from who?" asked Penny.

The question gave Pyrrha pause. Her ancestors, of course, had believed that it was the gods, particularly Erech, from whose domain the dreams arose to pass through the gates of horn or ivory, who were sending such true dreams, but the gods … had never been. There had only been two gods in Remnant, and neither of them were named Seraphis, or Tithys, or Re or Amphitrite, Erech, Callisto, Eulalia, or any other god or goddess in the pantheon. And yet, though Pyrrha knew that the gods of Mistral had never been gods, she could yet believe in much else contained within the tales, and she could believe in dreams.

"I know not," she admitted. "And I know not whether it truly matters; yet, I believe that dreams may sometimes speak to us nonetheless and should not always be dismissed. In your case, Amber … though it may not have always been a pleasant dream, nonetheless, I think it may mean that you will reconcile with Professor Ozpin soon." She smiled a little. "Although you may not have a feast in his office — it's hard to think how he would get a table up there — you may have dinner with him, the two of you, before you … go."

Amber looked over her shoulder at Pyrrha, then turned away again. "I don't think that will happen," she murmured. "I'm not sure that I'd even want it. Should I?"

Pyrrha hesitated. Sunset, if she had been here, would have encouraged the idea, without doubt, but Sunset was not here, and Pyrrha's own attitude towards Professor Ozpin was … somewhat more ambivalent. After all, if it had been left up to Professor Ozpin, then Pyrrha's body might be playing host to an amalgam of her and Amber's souls right now.

And yet, at the same time… "I will not tell you how to feel, of course," Pyrrha said, "but, when my mother and I were on the outs … although I would not have relented without an apology, once my mother unbent sufficiently to apologise, I am glad that I accepted it, rather than continuing to hold a grudge. But, as I say, it is your choice, not one that anyone here should make for you. And it may be that Ruby is right, and this dream of yours presages nothing at all but, if it is not so, please keep an open mind."

She might have preferred it if Ruby had been right, at least tonight, because it would have meant that her dream, too, meant nothing at all. But Pyrrha … true dreams, it was said, lingered in the memory, while false ones faded away, and while that was obviously not completely true — Pyrrha could remember more than a few dreams that had been utter nonsense — nevertheless, she would have preferred to have forgotten this dream swiftly.

Instead, it stayed with her, and the cheering of the crowd still echoed in her ears.

The cheering of the crowd as she had offered up all her glories to the Fall Maiden.

Perhaps it meant only good things, perhaps it meant that she would win the tournament today, but that offering, the Fall Maiden … Cinder was the Fall Maiden — or had half the Fall Maiden's power — and she was not dead yet, as far as Pyrrha knew. Perhaps … perhaps they would meet again, and Pyrrha would be alone this time, and Cinder would—

No. No, that was too much, that was far too much; Cinder was captured, Cinder had been beaten, Cinder had been beaten by her amongst others; to fear her now was ludicrous. Cinder had been defeated and could trouble them no more.

Speak only good things.

That worked out well, didn't it?


There was a very loud, insistent knocking on the door.

"Hey, it's me!" Yang called, her voice so loud that the door only slightly muffled it. "Open up!"

Penny was the closest to the door itself, and it was Penny who opened it, her tone bright as she said, "Good morning, Yang."

"Okay," Yang said, as she stood in the doorway wearing an orange tank top and black short shorts, "I have three— Penny?"

"Precisely."

Yang blinked, her lips moving silently. "What are you doing here?"

Penny did not reply for a second, and when she did reply, it was to say, taking a step backwards, "Why don't you come inside?"

Yang's mouth opened, but no words emerged before she did as Penny suggested and walked into the dorm room, shutting the door behind her.

"Hey, Yang," Ruby said. "What's up?"

Now it was Yang's turn not to respond as her eyes swept around the dorm room, passing over Pyrrha and everyone else. Silently, she stalked across the room to the bathroom door, flinging it open and looking inside.

Finding it empty, Yang turned around to face the occupants of the room.

"Okay," she said again, "first of all— Dove? You too?"

Dove smiled sheepishly. "Morning, Yang."

"If I get down on my knees, am I going to find Weiss under the bed?"

"I sincerely hope not," Pyrrha murmured.

"Mmm," Yang muttered. "And Blake's not here either?"

"She spent the night with Team Rosepetal," Penny explained.

"Of course she did," Yang said. She took a breath. "Right, before you took the wind out of my sails a little bit, I had three questions, and that was one of them. I have two left." She got out her scroll and opened it. Pyrrha was too far away to see what was on the scroll, except that she thought she could make out Lisa Lavender's picture. "Have you guys seen this, is it true, and where's Sunset?"

"That's three questions," Penny pointed out.

Yang's eyes narrowed a little. "Nobody likes a smartass, Penny."

"Sunset," Pyrrha began. "Sunset is…"

"Sunset," Jaune said, "is on a—"

"Sunset's gone," Ruby said. "I sent her away."

Everyone looked at her.

"Well, we can tell Yang, right?" Ruby asked. "I mean, she already knows everything else; why shouldn't tell her this too?"

"Thank you, Ruby," Yang said. "About time," she muttered, not quite under her breath enough that the others couldn't hear it.

Ruby looked away.

Yang snapped her scroll shut. "I guess that answers my other questions," she said quietly, as she put the scroll away. "It's true, then? What they're saying?"

"Yes," Pyrrha said. "Yes, it is true, but you can't tell anyone outside this room."

Yang looked at her. "Because … because the First Councillor knew about it, and the old First Councillor as well?"

"And Ozpin too," Jaune added.

Yang blinked twice. "Ozpin?" she squawked. "Oz-Ozpin knew about it?"

"Yeah," Ruby growled. "He knew everything. Knew and did nothing."

Yang's mouth hung open for a few moments. "Gotta say, I was not expecting that." She paused again. "Is it wrong of me that the thing I'm thinking the most right now is wondering where the hell he got off looking down on me for who I was and who my mom was, and all the while, he knew exactly what Sunset had done, and he didn't give a damn?"

"Don't you think there are bigger things to worry about?" asked Ruby. "Bigger things to be upset at Ozpin about?"

"Probably there are, but that's the one that's personal to me, so you'll have to forgive me—"

"No," Ruby snapped. "No, I don't; why would you expect me to just forgive you for something like that? Personal isn't the same as important; why is it so hard for everybody to get that?"

There was silence in the dorm room.

Yang turned her head slightly, so that she was looking at Ruby out of, if not the corners of her eyes, then something close to them. "Ruby?" she murmured. "Are you okay?"

Ruby exhaled out of her nostrils. "I'm fine."

"Sure," Yang said, with a slight chuckle. "Sure you are." She scratched the back of her head with one hand. "So … you knew about this before this morning, right? Last night?"

"It emerged," Pyrrha said quietly, "while we were at the police station, with Cinder."

"Right," Yang said. "Cinder. What happened with—?"

"It doesn't matter now," Ruby said.

"Actually," Pyrrha said, "it does. I know that we were too … I know that we didn't talk about it last night because of … well, you know, but the fact is that we would have talked about it under different circumstances, and we should talk about it. Cinder had quite a lot to say, and while some of it was obvious nonsense, some of it … is less easily dismissed."

"Pyrrha's right," Penny said. "We should hear what Cinder said, or at least we should hear the important parts. Yang—"

"Hey, it's fine," Yang said. "We can get back to the other stuff later on. I'd like to hear what's going on myself. Unless it's too sensitive for my ears to handle."

"Yang," Ruby moaned.

"Sorry, sorry, you're not in the mood, obviously," Yang muttered. "Of course you aren't." She looked around the room, taking one of the seats beside the wall and pulling it out, sitting down on it backwards, legs spread out and arms resting on the back. "So, what did she say?"

Pyrrha walked forwards, away from the curtains and the window, closer to the centre of the room.

"She said," she began, considering whether she ought to or needed to include any of the rubbish, and deciding that no, she didn't, since it was clearly not true, since everyone who had heard it agreed that it wasn't true, and if she spoke it aloud, then it might do what Cinder had presumably intended that it would and spread distrust. No, better to leave that out and focus only upon what might, at least, be true. "Now, please, bear in mind that there is no proof of this bar Cinder's own word; take that for what it may be worth to you. But Cinder says that Professor Lionheart, of Haven Academy, has betrayed Professor Ozpin to Salem."

"Who?" asked Dove. "Salem?"

Pyrrha realised with a little bit of a sinking feeling that Dove didn't know about Salem because they hadn't told him about her.

It's so very hard to keep track.

"That's Cinder's boss," Jaune said, coming to her rescue. "She's … like a crime lord, or a terrorist, or … the point is that she's got tentacles everywhere, and Cinder's just one of her followers."

"If a particularly important one," Pyrrha added, in case it seemed like the capture of Cinder had meant nothing at all, since she was just a pawn who could be replaced on the board in an instant. "Although if Professor Lionheart has betrayed Professor Ozpin to Salem, he would also be an important asset for her." She looked at Amber. "According to Cinder, Professor Lionheart's treachery is how Cinder knew where to find you, Amber, or at least, that is how she knew that you were the Fall Maiden."

"That explains that," Jaune said. "But then, what about the other Maidens? Does Salem know who they are too? Are any of them safe?"

"I'm sure that Professor Ozpin will be moving them somewhere safer now that he knows that they are — or at least that they may be — at risk," Pyrrha said. "The Spring Maiden is … missing, apparently."

"'Missing'?" Amber repeated. "You mean they—?"

"No, not like that," Pyrrha assured her. "It seems that the Spring Maiden found it all a little bit much, after a while. Too much. She ran away and disappeared. Neither Salem nor Professor Ozpin can find her, although Salem is certainly looking for her, and I must assume that Professor Ozpin is doing the same, to some extent. But Anima is a very large land, with a lot of sparsely populated space where one might go to ground."

"So she got away," Amber murmured. "She got away from him, and all of them." She closed her eyes, and her free hand rose to her face, to the scars that criss-crossed that face like rivers cutting through the land.

"But what kind of life does she lead?" asked Pyrrha. "A very lonely one, I should imagine; for all your travails, I think you are the more fortunate."

Amber glanced up at her, and then looked at Dove. Her scars, even without any makeup of any kind to hide them, seemed to soften as she smiled at him. "Yes," she agreed. "Yes, I'm sure you're right, Pyrrha."

"And do you believe that?" asked Jaune. "Not about Amber, I mean, about Professor Lionheart having betrayed Ozpin, betrayed Amber, betrayed … all of us."

Pyrrha was silent for a moment. "Arslan told me something interesting, some time ago," she said. "I confess I thought too little of it at the time, but … she told me that she had been at home in Mistral during the spring break, with her parents."

Yang frowned. "I'm not getting the—"

"Professor Lionheart told us that we were the only ones who could hunt the Karkadann prowling around Mistral during that break, when we were there," Ruby explained. "Because all the other huntsmen were busy, and all the students had gone away. There was only us, and Cinder. And Juturna's friend Camilla, but I'm not sure she's actually a huntress."

"No, she isn't," Pyrrha agreed. "She is well respected by many, feared by the rest, but she has never set foot within a combat school or an academy. But the point is that—"

"That Arslan was there too," Jaune said. "And, you know, come to think of it … most of the Haven students must come from Mistral, right, so a lot of them would have been at home, wouldn't they?"

"I don't know whether I would say 'most,'" Pyrrha replied. "Mistral controls a large territory, and many students, great and small, hail from settlements across Anima — I know that Medea comes from Colchis, Meleager from Calydon, Jason from Iolcos, and so on — but you are right, there must be more than just Arslan, and so—"

"Lionheart lied to us," Ruby said.

"Or he just didn't know," Penny suggested.

"Isn't it his job to know?" Ruby demanded. "And someone told Cinder who the Fall Maiden was, and if it wasn't him, then who?"

"But why would Cinder tell the truth?" asked Yang. To Pyrrha, she said, "Why do you believe any of this? If you don't believe some of it, why do you think that she's telling the truth at all?"

"Because it makes some sense," Pyrrha said. "As Ruby pointed out, he should have known, or at least it feels as if he should. To speak truly, the only reason I would prefer for this not to be true is that it would prove some of the worst people in Mistral right about him."

Yang snorted. "Yeah, that's annoying when it happens, but you have to admit that it does happen sometimes. So what's happening about that?"

"I don't know," Pyrrha admitted. "Professor Ozpin … sent us to bed. He was going to consult with General Ironwood and Professor Goodwitch—"

"And Uncle Qrow too," Ruby added. "He was there, when Penny and I went to see him."

"You went to see him?" asked Yang.

"Of course," Ruby said. "I wanted to know why he'd allowed Sunset to stay in school, after what she had done."

Yang looked from Ruby, to Pyrrha, and then back again. "I want to hear about that," she said, "but first of all, let's let Pyrrha finish. What else did Cinder have to say?"

"That there are, unfortunately, other agents of Salem present at Beacon," Pyrrha said. "So we cannot relax our vigilance around Amber just yet."

"Others?" Jaune asked. "There are more people that we didn't know about. Even after Cinder got found out and had to run, there have been others just … sitting here?"

"Did she say who they were?" asked Ruby.

"She gave two names," Pyrrha replied. "Whether they are the right two names, I do not know."

"Who are they?"

Pyrrha licked her lips. "Tempest Shadow, the Atlas student … and Bon Bon."

"'Bon Bon'?" Amber whispered. "Tempest Shadow and Bon Bon, those were the names she gave?"

"Precisely," Pyrrha said. "Although it may be that she was just giving names to distract us from the real agents."

"Is that…?" Dove paused for a moment. "Is that what you think?"

Pyrrha sighed. "I don't know what to think, and neither…" She stopped herself before she could say 'and neither did Sunset'; those would not be welcome words amongst this company. Instead, she said, "I don't know what to think. Tempest Shadow is unknown to me. Do any of you know her?"

"Tempest," Yang mused. "Tempest Shadow, she's Team Tsunami, right? Blake went on a mission with her; why don't you ask her if she noticed anything or sensed anything, if anything seemed off about her?"

Pyrrha nodded. "That is a good idea, we will do so; thank you Yang."

Yang grinned. "I've got my moments."

"But as for Bon Bon," Pyrrha went on, "we've left her with Amber, she's been around her; sometimes, she's been around her when we haven't, and Dove, she is your friend, isn't she?"

Dove didn't look at Pyrrha. He seemed strangely reluctant to meet her eyes. "She was my friend," he said, his voice sounding a little hoarse. "She and Lyra were a great comfort to me during this year, before … when I thought Amber was … you know, before Sunset—"

Ruby growled wordlessly.

"Just because you have fallen out of love with her doesn't mean that I will forget everything that she has done for us," Dove declared. "But Bon Bon was my friend, true."

"'Was'?" Ruby asked. "Did something happen between you?"

"If what you're saying is true—" Dove began.

"What Pyrrha's saying is that she's having a hard time believing it," Jaune said. "Isn't that right, Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha nodded. "That was my meaning, yes."

"And it's clear that Bon Bon didn't hurt Amber because, if she did, then Amber wouldn't be here," Penny said. "In fact, if I say that these agents of Salem here at Beacon haven't done anything since Cinder left, would that be wrong? Anyone? Can anyone think of anything that would prove me wrong?"

"No," Ruby said. "No, I can't think of anything that they've done. But that doesn't mean that they haven't done anything, just that we don't know about it. Did Cinder say what they've been doing?"

"She spoke of an imminent attack on Vale," Pyrrha said.

"By the grimm?" Ruby asked.

"What grimm?" asked Yang.

"There are a lot of grimm massing around Vale," Ruby told her.

"There are?" Yang cried. "Since when? And why haven't the Atlesians done anything about them, isn't that what they're here for?"

"General Blackthorn has tied General Ironwood's hands," Jaune said. "We saw them face off about it last night."

"But Councillor Emerald is going to summon all the huntsmen back to defend Vale, and after the Atlesians leave, they're going to mount a big counterattack to drive the grimm back," Ruby added. "And we can help!"

"After the Atlesians leave?" Yang asked. "Why not before?"

"Because of politics," Pyrrha said softly.

"Oh, great, so we have to put up with a whole bunch of grimm camped outside our city because of nationalist dick swinging, awesome," Yang growled. "You know, sometimes, I think the Last King of Vale should have just taken over the whole world. No more kingdoms, or just one kingdom, that didn't have to worry about how it looked in the eyes of the other kingdoms, because they'd all be one big happy family. Brothers, instead of rivals."

"I'm sure he had his reasons for doing otherwise," Pyrrha said. "But, in any case, Cinder spoke also of a magical creature, a creature … from Sunset's home of Equestria, something that has been causing, or at least stoking, the unrest in Vale, the ill-feeling towards the faunus and the Atlesians. She called it a Siren, and Sunset recognised the word."

"A creature from Sunset's home?" Ruby asked. "Messing with Vale using her … magic?"

"So Cinder said."

Ruby was silent for a moment. "I wish we'd never heard of Equestria," she muttered.

"Ruby!" Penny cried. "That's … you don't mean that."

"No," Ruby said. "No, I don't. We need to know so that we can fight monsters like the one that Cinder brought here to Vale."

"Did Cinder say what she is?" asked Jaune. "I mean, what's a Siren?"

"There are three of them," Pyrrha said, recalling what Sunset had explained to her. "Although I think only one of them is in Vale at present. They use their voices to stir up negative emotions, strife and hatred; they feed upon such things, apparently. And then, having surfeited, their powers are increased and may control the minds or wills of others."

"Yikes," Jaune said. "They sound bad."

"But do we have to hear them singing?" Ruby asked. "If we wore ear plugs, then maybe—"

"Do you have to do anything?" asked Yang. "What's Professor Ozpin going to do about all this?"

"We don't know," Pyrrha said.

"Right, yeah, maybe you should have asked him that when you were up there asking him about Sunset," Yang suggested.

"I didn't know about any of this, we didn't talk about it," Ruby pointed out.

"Well maybe you should have," said Yang. "Before you…" She paused and rubbed the bridge of her nose with her forefinger and thumb. "But let's put that on pause again; Pyrrha, was there anything else?"

Pyrrha considered. She had told them about the attack on Vale, about Tempest and Bon Bon, about Professor Lionheart … there was only the accusation of Amber's own treachery, which she would not mention because it was pointless to bring up something so ridiculous, and everything that Cinder had had to say about her own past. Pyrrha would not call that pointless; it had made her rather … rather pitiable in Pyrrha's eyes; someone who had been stripped so violently of all the comforts and advantages which they had once enjoyed and had thought to enjoy was, it might be argued, even worse placed than someone like Arslan, who had never enjoyed them to begin with and thus never had to learn to cope with the lack. And Arslan, at least, from what Pyrrha understood and knew of her, which admittedly was not a complete picture, had had loving parents, which Cinder had also felt the lack of eventually. She had been wounded, that was plain; Pyrrha could understand why she had come to hate the world.

It did not excuse her actions, but Pyrrha pitied her nonetheless.

"Cinder spoke of her own past," Pyrrha said. "In fact, even more than giving us any warnings of the future, I think the account of her past was what she mainly desired to get across. She wanted to be remembered by someone. But I think you would probably rather discuss the events of last night than Cinder's travails growing up."

Yang nodded. "Unless there's anything more important you need to share with the team."

Pyrrha shook her head. "No, nothing more."

"Right," Yang murmured. "So…" She ran one hand through her luxuriously long blonde hair. "You were at the police station and … the news came on? With this?"

"That's it, yeah," Jaune said. "Pyrrha and Sunset were down with Professor Ozpin in the interrogation room when we noticed that this was on all the TVs: someone had gotten that deleted email from somewhere and passed it on."

"First Councillor Emerald denied it," Ruby said. "He said it was all nonsense, said that he'd never do something like that. He said the real scandal was how someone had gotten one of Skystar's deleted emails in the first place. But I knew what Sunset had done. I knew that she would have done it."

"Hmm," Yang murmured. "I gotta say, that is kinda worrying, I thought that when you deleted stuff, it was gone. Not that I've got anything like that sitting around that I deleted, but … is it really that easy?" She shuddered. "But, anyway, go on."

"That news was still playing when Sunset and I returned with Cinder and Professor Ozpin," Pyrrha took up the account. "Sunset said nothing, but Professor Ozpin spoke in Sunset's defence—"

"That should have been a clue," Ruby muttered.

"As did Cinder," Pyrrha said. "With great eloquence, I must confess."

Yang's eyes narrowed. "Cinder? You…" She looked down at the floor, shuffling her feet awkwardly. "You don't think … you don't think—?"

"No," Pyrrha said before she could say. "No, I do not think that, and I urge you not to finish suggesting it. Let the words lie while they still possess some comfortable element of ambiguity. What Sunset did, she did not do it because she is a servant of Salem, I will stake my life upon it."

"I … agree," Jaune said. "Sunset isn't working against us. That's … not the problem."

"They're right," said Ruby, more softly. "Pyrrha's right, although I wouldn't say it in quite the way she did. But that's not something we have to worry about."

"Sunset is not our enemy," Amber said. "She is not my enemy."

"It seems like we can all agree on that," said Penny. "Even if we can't agree on a lot of other things."

"Good," Yang said softly. "That's good. I didn't really … she never seemed the type, but with everything … I just wanted to make sure." She sighed. "So then why did Cinder defend her?"

"Honestly? Vanity, I think," Pyrrha said. "She didn't want to share the spotlight with Sunset. This was supposed to be her moment."

Yang frowned. "Her moment … of being captured?"

"She would at least get to dominate the news," Pyrrha explained. "Councillor Emerald was certainly hoping that she would dominate the news when he arrived at the police station: the menace of the year captured and soon to be brought to justice. And since Cinder could not achieve anything that she had set out to achieve, I think she was hoping for that moment of fame as … a last resort?"

The frown remained upon Yang's face. "I've got to be honest, that sounds really weird."

"I don't claim that it makes perfect sense, only that I think it was Cinder's thought," Pyrrha said. "It formed part of the tenor of her speech, along with pointing out that the accusations against Sunset were very similar to the ones recently made against me. A point I must confess I found convincing."

"I can see it," Yang admitted. "So Professor Ozpin, Councillor Emerald … Cinder, they all spoke up for Sunset, and then…"

"Valish soldiers took Cinder away to be detained until her trial," Jaune said.

"Soldiers!" Pyrrha gasped. "That was the last thing that Cinder said, that the Siren's song had gone so far as to affect soldiers of the Valish Defence Forces!"

Yang's eyebrows rose. "And you forgot that?"

"I'm sorry," Pyrrha said. "But it was a very long and busy night."

"I guess it was," Yang said. "And you don't know what's being done about that either?"

"I don't think Councillor Emerald trusts General Blackthorn," Ruby said. "He seemed pretty upset when he found out that the general wasn't doing anything about the grimm outside the walls."

"Makes sense," Yang said. "I'm not too happy about that myself."

"And then Professor Ozpin suggested using the police to defend power and stuff like that," Ruby went on. "In case someone tries to sabotage it. And I think that's going to happen."

"'Sabotage'?" Yang asked.

"Maybe that's what the Siren plans to get people to do?" suggested Jaune.

"Yikes," Yang muttered. "You are not making this a very happy morning, guys, I've gotta say."

"It wasn't a very pleasant night for us, either," Penny pointed out.

Yang winced. "No, no, I guess it wasn't. But, going back to that night, even if it wasn't very nice for you, what happened?"

"We came back to Beacon, and Professor Ozpin told us to get some rest, while he and General Ironwood and Professor Goodwitch went to make plans, like we said," Ruby said. "But we didn't go to bed."

"Obviously not," said Yang.

"Instead," Ruby went on, "we all gathered here—"

"'All'?" asked Yang.

"Everyone here," Ruby said, "and Blake, Rainbow Dash, Ciel, and Twilight."

"Right," Yang said. "Of course."

"And when I confronted Sunset about what she'd done," Ruby said. "She … admitted it."

"She admitted it?" Yang repeated. "She confessed?"

"She said that it was fear for our lives that motivated her," Pyrrha said softly.

"She told us that Cinder had left her the trigger to blow the mine in the cab of the train," Jaune explained. "She arrived before any of us, and it seemed — Cinder made it seem — like if she didn't blow the mine, and blow the Breach, then we'd all die down there in that tunnel."

Yang was very still, practically frozen, her body rigid, her arms trapped despite the somewhat awkwardness of the angle at which they were trapped, held up in their gesture of surprise from the fact that Sunset had confessed at all.

Her mouth barely seemed to move at all, and her voice, trembling, was quiet. "She did it to save you."

"She did it because she doesn't care about other people," Ruby declared. "She did it because she doesn't care about Vale, or about the values of a huntress. She just cares about—"

"About you," Yang said. "About whether you live or die."

"That doesn't make it right," Ruby insisted. "That doesn't make it any less evil."

"'Evil'?" Yang repeated. "Evil, that …" She paused. "How… how are you—?"

"I'm fine," Ruby muttered.

Yang took a step towards her, and then another. "Ruby—"

"I said I'm fine!" Ruby snapped. She closed her eyes. "I … I don't need … I know you're trying to help, but this isn't about me, and I don't need a hug or a coddle or anything else, so can we please, please just carry on?"

"Sure," Yang said, the softness of her tone belied somewhat by the way in which she raised her hands pacifically. "Sure, I didn't mean to … okay, we can get on." She glanced around the room. "How did you all take it?"

"Ruby was very—" Amber began, but then stopped, glancing at Ruby.

"I did what had to be done," Ruby said firmly. "There was no alternative."

"I was angry," Jaune said. "One of my friends was cut up in all of that, one of her friends was one of those who died, and … it was because of her. I can't say for certain that I would have had the strength to do the right thing, but it's like Ruby said, that doesn't make it any less … to hear her admit it was … it made me angry."

Yang gave a slight, barely perceptible nod of her head. Her gaze fell upon Pyrrha, as Pyrrha had known that it must even as she had hoped that it might not.

"Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha swallowed. "I … am sad to see her go. She was a great friend to me, for all her faults."

"But she went," Yang said. "You sent her away?"

"How could she stay in this school after what she did?" Ruby demanded, looking at Yang once more. "How could Professor Ozpin let her stay in this school?"

Yang didn't answer that. Instead, she said, "So Sunset left? Do you know where she went?"

"She went to see Skystar Aris, at the latter's request," Pyrrha said. "That was where she was bound when I left her. But where she went after that, I do not know."

"And you went to see Professor Ozpin?" Yang asked. "What did he say?"

"That Sunset … that he needs Sunset," Ruby said. "That sometimes, we have to work with people who aren't the best, who aren't heroes, who might have done things that we don't like. That he knows best and knows what he's doing. Uncle Qrow agreed with him."

"Maybe they're right," Yang said. "They've been doing this for a while, seems like."

"That doesn't mean that she has to stay at this school," Ruby said. "Just because Sunset might have some use to Ozpin doesn't mean that she needs to be here!"

"No," said Yang. "No, I guess it doesn't."

"And he…" Penny cleared her throat. "He also made me team leader."

Yang turned to look at her. "You?" she said. "I mean … you! You, that's … but you're an Atlas student."

"I'm transferring to Beacon next year," Penny pointed out. "So why shouldn't I transfer early?"

"Like Blake has, spending the night with Team Rosepetal," Yang muttered. "Still, at least you're amongst friends, and at least Team … what are you—?"

"I decided not to change the team name," Penny said. "Not yet, anyway. It felt disrespectful, and besides, we don't actually want people to know that Sunset's gone."

"Right," Yang said, with obvious scepticism in her voice. "Well, I'm glad that this team has a leader who knows the people in it, but … so, to be clear, you kicked Sunset out because what she did was so awful that you couldn't stand to be around her, but at the same time, you don't want anyone to know that Sunset actually did it, and you're going to stand by what Councillor Emerald said that this is all just a load of garbage?"

"We don't want to cause a panic," Jaune said. "Or cause another First Councillor to have to quit."

"Three in one year would be a lot," Ruby said. "People would get worried, and with there already being a lot of grimm outside, we don't want to—"

"And a magical creature stirring the pot, apparently," Yang said. "I get all that, but … you don't see a contradiction here, or any problems at all with this scenario? I mean … are you going to tell everybody that Sunset ran away because she wasn't guilty?"

"We talked about that last night," Penny explained. "We're going to tell everyone that Sunset is away on a mission."

"A mission that she so conveniently got sent on, alone, while her teammate is fighting in the one-on-one round of the Vytal Tournament, while Vale is being half encircled by grimm by the sounds of it, just as she by complete coincidence happens to get accused of a crime," Yang said. "Uh huh, sure, I'll buy that; I'm sure everyone else will too. Have you spoken to Sunset about this?"

"No," Pyrrha confessed. "She had already departed by the time that we discussed the matter."

"Then you're going to have to call her," said Yang.

"What?" Ruby cried. "No!"

"Yes!" Yang insisted. "What do you think it's going to look like if you tell everyone that Sunset has left on a mission, while Sunset herself is bumming around Vale because she hasn't got anywhere to go because the city is being surrounded by grimm? Where is Sunset gonna go, anyway?"

"Back where she came from, maybe,"

"I … I suggested that she might speak to my mother," Pyrrha said, very quietly; she would have rather not said anything at all, but silence would have been rather cowardly, especially in the face of Yang's direct questioning. "I thought that perhaps Mother might find her a position, if not in her household, then in Mistral, at least."

"Your mother?" Ruby repeated. "Your … after what she did—"

"I rather fear that what Sunset has done will burnish her up in my mother's esteem," Pyrrha said. "You could pile Vale upon Vale until the mass of cities overshadowed the mountains, and it would not equal up the worth of my life in my mother's eyes. It is … unfortunate, but—"

"But it's Mistral," Jaune said. "To be fair, I'm sure that there are some people out there for whom a lot of Valish would see Mistral get overrun for."

Ruby looked at Pyrrha for a second. Then she snorted. "Sounds like they're a perfect match, then," she said. "If that's where Sunset decides to go, then I hope she's happy there, but I won't be able to stay in the same house as her if we ever visit Mistral again."

"Fortunately, Mistral is not short of hotels, provided you book ahead," said Pyrrha.

"To get back to the point," said Yang, "you need to talk to Sunset to make sure that you're all on the same page, story wise, or else you're all going to look like liars, and bad liars at that, and that won't help anyone."

Ruby's jaw clenched. "Fine," she muttered. "Pyrrha—"

"I'll call Sunset," Penny declared. "Since I'm the team leader, I should be the one to do it."

Because you're the team leader, or because you didn't get to say goodbye? Pyrrha thought. Not that she begrudged Penny the decision; as team leader, it was her right to make such decisions, after all, and so long as the good of the team was not affected — and Pyrrha had no reason to believe that it would be, in this case — then there was nothing saying a team leader had to be completely selfless.

She wished Penny joy of the conversation, although how pleased Sunset would be to be called up so that they could discuss how to manage her banishment was not something Pyrrha would speculate on with any confidence.

She took her departure in good part, I suppose.

But that is no guarantee that such a mood has lasted.

On the other hand, if there is anyone with whom Sunset will find it difficult to be bitter towards, it's Penny.


"We should talk to Ozpin too," Yang said. "Find out what he's going to do about … all of this other stuff." She sighed as she folded her arms. "I don't know about you, Pyrrha, but this is kind of denting my enthusiasm for today's matches."

Pyrrha let out a soft chuckle from her lips as she retreated towards the window and sat down on the seat there. "Indeed," she murmured. "It all seems … rather unimportant, doesn't it? Assuming that the matches even go ahead, with the danger from the grimm—"

"If they were going to be cancelled, they would have been cancelled already, wouldn't they?" asked Jaune.

"You may be right," Pyrrha said. "Something else that Professor Ozpin might tell us. Shall we … shall we get dressed and go and see him?"

"Or we could call him," Penny suggested. "That way, we wouldn't have to wait until everyone was ready, and we wouldn't have to worry about people seeing us on the way. Sometimes, it's better not to be noticed."

Penny spoke wisely; in light of what had just come out — or rather, what had been suggested, since the truth was something that they were hoping would not come out — then any eyes that were abroad this morning would doubtless be drawn to them even more than the tournament warranted, and she was not at all sure they wanted the attention.

"Will he be awake at this hour?" she asked.

"Does he ever sleep?" asked Jaune.

"He must do so," said Dove. "Sometimes."

"If we call him, the worst that can happen is that he doesn't pick up," Ruby pointed out.

"That's true," Penny acknowledged. "Alright then, I'll call him."

Penny, who alone of everyone in the room was completely dressed, got out her scroll. In fact, she had gotten so far as opening it up before she stopped and said, "I don't have his number."

"Here, Penny, I've got it," said Ruby, picking up her own scroll from where it sat on the pile of books next to the silver rose. "I'll send it to you."

Ruby opened up her scroll, and there was a momentary pause while her fingers worked across the screen before Penny's device gave off a little buzz for a message received.

"Thank you!" Penny said brightly. "Now I can call him."

Now it was the turn of her fingers to skip lightly across the screen before she held out the scroll, flat on the palm of her hand, away from her as though it smelled, or carried a disease she feared to catch.

There was a pause. Pyrrha got up from the window seat and moved closer to Penny and her scroll; Jaune and Ruby likewise moved. Amber and Dove did not move, and Yang had no need to.

The pause ended, the quiet broken by Professor Ozpin's voice entering into the room. "Miss Polendina, good morning."

"Good morning, Professor!" Penny cried in an effervescent tone. "I'm sorry to bother you so early—"

"Not at all, Miss Polendina, not at all," Professor Ozpin assures her. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm here with T—… with my entire team," Penny said, letting out a little giggle of excitement that no one could begrudge her, "as well as Amber, Dove, and Yang. Pyrrha just finished telling us everything that Cinder said last night."

"'Everything,' Miss Nikos?" Professor Ozpin asked, in a tone so pointed that Pyrrha could see him staring at her over his spectacles in her mind's eye.

"Yes, Professor," Pyrrha said, raising her voice a little so that he could hear her. "All the relevant information."

Professor Ozpin took a moment to say, "I see. Thank you, Miss Nikos."

"We were wondering," Penny said, "if there was anything you wanted us to do about any of the things Pyrrha mentioned."

"Or if you had any plans to deal with them," Yang added.

"Indeed, Miss Xiao Long, I have not been sitting idle," Professor Ozpin replied, with no sign that the question irked him. "General Ironwood's forces will be on standby to resist an assault by the grimm mustering around our walls, and prepared for any … difficulties with the Valish Defence Forces. General Ironwood will also be taking steps to monitor his accused student, Miss Shadow."

"And … Bon Bon?" Amber asked, her voice trembling somewhat. "What about Bon Bon?"

Professor Ozpin did not offer an immediate response. "It is … difficult to credit Miss Fall's accusation, but nevertheless, I would appreciate it if you would keep Amber out of Miss Bonaventure's way. I'm sorry, Mister Bronzewing, I know she is your friend, but we must err on the side of caution."

"I understand," Dove said. "And it's alright. When it comes to Amber's safety, we don't want to take any risks."

"Quite so, Mister Bronzewing," Professor Ozpin said approvingly. "Now, I had intended to ask Team Sapphire to hunt down the Siren that Miss Fall claims is responsible for so much discord on the streets, but without Miss Shimmer—"

"We can do it, Professor," Ruby insisted. "We don't need Sunset to be a good team, or for you to rely on us."

Professor Ozpin took a moment to reply. "The Siren is a creature of Equestrian magic, Miss Rose, and I had thought to counter it with magic of the same origin. There was no other judgement implied."

"Then let us help anyway," Ruby insisted. "Let us take care of it for you. Let us prove to you that even without Sunset we're still as good a team and as worthy of your trust as we were when … when you sent us into Mountain Glenn."

Pyrrha wondered if she was the only one thinking that it might have been better if Professor Ozpin had not sent them there.

"I … will consider it, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin said, in an even tone. "For now, Miss Nikos and Miss Xiao Long must both look to the tournament."

"Really?" Ruby said. "Really, Professor, when Vale—?"

"Yes, really, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin said, cutting her off before she could finish. "If the tournament is cancelled, or even postponed, due to the grimm threat, then more people will learn about the grimm threat, and that … will only make things worse, not better."

"Bread and circuses, Professor?" Pyrrha asked.

"Most people in the fairgrounds seem to prefer popcorn or cotton candy, Miss Nikos," Professor Ozpin replied dryly. "But … yes, you are correct. Whatever its other qualities — and it has many — the tournament is, at this point, also an exercise in managing the mood of the city of Vale; in this febrile atmosphere, despite the possible presence of this Siren, the tournament has nevertheless … I would like to say that it has reminded the people of Vale, and all our guests, that there is more that unites than divides us. With this unfortunate business surrounding Miss Schnee, I fear that it would be a lie to say so, but nevertheless, if it has not healed all the wounds of Remnant, it has, I daresay, spread good cheer and glad hearts throughout Vale and the wider world. And in these perilous times, as the era of peace we have long enjoyed is threatened from without, as shadows grow long across the green, that is not nothing."

"I guess not … when you put it like that, anyway," Yang muttered. "But all the same—"

"It seems a trivial thing to fight for the entertainment of the crowds when there may be real battles to be fought soon enough?" Professor Ozpin asked. "Is that not always true, Miss Xiao Long? Is that not the very paradox of this entire spectacle?"

"Thanks for pointing that out, Professor," Yang said. "But it's more than that now, because it's … at least, normally, it's not all happening in the same day! Or even so soon after."

Professor Ozpin chuckled. "You are not wrong, Miss Xiao Long, but, if I may, why did you want to fight in the tournament in the first place?"

Yang shrugged, for all that Professor Ozpin couldn't see it. "For the fun of it," she said. "For the test too — I wanted to see how far I could go against the best — but … mostly for the fun of it."

"And is the possibility of real danger, of real risk, not reason enough to have fun while you can?" Professor Ozpin asked. "To revel in the joy of a battle without consequence, with only pride at stake?"

Pyrrha could not help but chuckle. "Some would dispute that a battle with pride or honour at stake is without consequence, Professor."

"No doubt, Miss Nikos, please forgive me," Professor Ozpin said. "But my point remains: it is true that the grimm may attack soon, it is true that you may be asked to fight a fight more real than any that you will find in the Amity Colosseum, but that, it seems to me at least, is all the more reason to enjoy yourselves while you may.

"Miss Shimmer erred out of a fear of death. I do not judge her too harshly for that, for death is something greatly to be feared, but it should also be a reminder to savour the sweetness of life while the chance remains.

"And, if that is not enough to move you, then please remember that in keeping the people happy and content, in distracting from the shadows even as they lengthen beyond the walls, you are doing as good service as any you might render on the battlefield.

"So please, Miss Xiao Long, Miss Nikos, fight hard, fight for Beacon … and, in spite of everything that's happened, please, try and enjoy yourselves."

XxXxX
Author's Note: The next chapter will be up on Saturday, rather than Friday as normal; this is because (spoiler) it's a chapter where Sunset writes to Twilight in the journal and it's easier for me to do all the formatting that involves on Saturday when I have more leisure.
 
Chapter 71 - Press Conference
Press Conference


"What's that?" Skystar asked as she got out of bed, stretching her arms above her head.

"This?" Sunset asked, looking down at the magical journal resting on her legs. "It's a journal."

"And you're going to write about what happened yesterday?" Skystar asked, looking down at Sunset.

"I don't…" Sunset trailed off from saying that she didn't have much choice, because that was a bit of a nonsense; the only person who could make her was herself, after all. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I'm going to write about what happened last night."

"Write about yesterday," Skystar said. "I mean … if it was me, and if I kept a journal — which I don't, I have to tell you — then I would not want to write about what happened last night."

"I can understand why," Sunset admitted. "But, at the same time, I think … I think it's nights like last night that we have to write about, even if we don't want to."

"It's your journal, I suppose," Skystar murmured. "How did you sleep last night?"

"Okay," Sunset said quietly.

"That's what people say when they don't want to give a real answer," Skystar pointed out.

"I don't know about that, sometimes things are just … okay," Sunset replied. "But, I will tell you, that if I didn't sleep well last night, it was nothing to do with the comfort or otherwise of the sleeping arrangements. You did very well, especially considering … this wasn't something that you'd planned on." Yes, she'd slept on the floor, but she had also slept on a groundsheet, in a sleeping bag, and Skystar had even given up one of her pillows for Sunset and found a slightly frayed sea-green poncho to serve as a blanket for her. It was more than Sunset could have asked for, in the circumstances; certainly, it was more than she'd had a right to expect. "With everything that happened, I wouldn't have slept very well in the most comfortable bed in the most luxurious hotel in Vale."

"I know what you mean; I didn't sleep too well either," Skystar admitted.

"I know; I could hear you rolling over and over," Sunset said.

"My ears got really hot against the pillow," Skystar said defensively. "I just … I couldn't stop thinking about stuff. And I've got less to think about than you." She frowned. "Are you sure that this idea of yours is going to work?"

"Honestly? No," Sunset said. "No, I'm not certain. But I don't have a better idea and … we don't have an unlimited amount of time; if we don't come up with an explanation soon — like, right now — then it's going to look—"

"Like I was telling the truth the first time," Skystar murmured.

"If that's the only explanation on offer, then … yeah, I'm afraid so," Sunset said. "People will think that, if there's a good explanation—"

"Why haven't we brought it up," Skystar said.

"Exactly," Sunset sighed. "But, since we haven't said anything yet, there's still time to come up with a new idea, an idea that might… might make you seem…" She squirmed where she sat on the blue sleeping bag. "Might make you seem a little less—"

"Deranged?" Skystar asked.

"I was going to suggest 'petty,'" Sunset said.

"I think your idea goes a teensy little bit beyond pettiness," Skystar said.

Sunset wobbled her head from side to side a little bit. "Maybe," she conceded. "As I say, if you have another idea—"

"If I had another idea, I wouldn't be considering yours, I've got to say," Skystar told her. "But I don't, and I … I mean, how many reasons are there to falsely accuse your mom of covering up something like this — or of somebody doing it." She sighed. "I was never going to get out of this without seeming a little … something. It's my fault—"

"None of this is your fault," Sunset assured her.

Skystar shrugged. "It doesn't matter whose fault it is. We just … have to live with it. I'll survive. I'll survive better than Mom or Aspen will with people believing that they did … that." She paused. "Can I ask you something?"

"I think you've earned the right to ask me just about anything," Sunset replied.

"Are you honest, in there, that journal?" Skystar asked. "Are you honest with yourself?"

"I … not always," Sunset admitted. "But I try to be. And I think that I get better at it as I go through the pages." That might be the story of my life. I've gotten better as I go along, just not quite quick enough. "Why do you ask?"

"Just … curious, I guess," Skystar admitted. "No real reason, just … curious."

There was a knock at the door. "Can I come in?" asked Former Councillor Aris from the other side.

"Sure, Mom," Skystar said.

The door opened, at least enough to admit the head and shoulders of Former Councillor Aris. "Good morning."

"Morning, Mom," Skystar said. She smiled. "How's Aspen?"

"He slept on the couch," Former Councillor Aris insisted. "How was your night?"

"Thoughtful," Skystar said. "But not in a good way."

Former Councillor Aris pursed her lips together. "I see. I'm sorry to hear it."

"But it would have been weird otherwise," Skystar said. "Right?"

The Former Councillor didn't respond to that; she just said, "Are you still going to go through with this?"

"Do we have any other ideas?" Skystar asked.

"No," Former Councillor Aris conceded, "but—"

"Then we don't have any other options," Skystar said. "Do we?"

Former Councillor Aris was quiet for a moment, before she murmured, "I suppose not. Aspen is already arranging the press conference, if you're both ready."

"I'm not ready ready," Skystar said. "But … I'd kind of like to get it over with."

Former Councillor Aris nodded, before she glanced around the door. "Miss Shimmer?"

"I am … more or less prepared, ma'am," Sunset said softly. "I am sorry that I couldn't come up with a better idea—"

"But then, neither could the rest of us, so it's all a bit of a wash," said Former Councillor Aris. "It isn't ideal, but in the absence of anything better, it will have to do. It may even work; at least it doesn't spring out of nowhere as a story. Are you coming down for breakfast? I was going to make waffles."

"Oh, you know I'm not going to miss that," Skystar said.

Former Councillor Aris smiled. "I thought that it was the least you deserved."

Skystar grinned. "Thanks, Mom. Sunset?"

"Um, no," Sunset said. "No, thank you, ma'am; I'm sure it will be delicious, but I have some things to take care of up here."

"I could bring you something up?" Skystar said. "Would you like some juice?"

Sunset looked at her. "In the circumstances, there is something very wrong about the idea of you waiting on me."

"What else are you going to do for breakfast?" Skystar asked. "Run out to Snow Burger?"

"This seems like too nice a neighbourhood to have a Snow Burger nearby," Sunset observed.

"It is," Skystar said. "That's part of your problem."

Sunset paused for a moment. "What kind of juice do you have?"

"Apple or grapefruit?"

"Grapefruit, please," Sunset murmured.

"Coming up," Skystar said, with more good cheer in her voice than the situation really warranted, as she and her mother both left the bedroom, closing the door behind them.

Sunset was left alone, with her journal.

She opened up the book to the first blank page. The number of blank pages remaining — or the lack thereof — was becoming a little concerning, but at the same time, if there was ever a situation worth writing to Twilight about, then this was surely it.

And besides, it occurred to Sunset that, right now, she was far freer to simply pop back to Canterlot and pick up a new journal — plus, perhaps, a journal for Professor Ozpin as well — than she had been before.

Every cloud and all that.

Sunset got out her pen, started to write.

Twilight, are you there? Is this a good time?

There was only a slight pause before letters written in Twilight's elegant handwriting began to appear on the page.

Hey, Sunset. It feels as though I haven't heard from you in a while.

That's probably because you haven't.

Yes, I know, I was being polite.

And I appreciate that, but in the circumstances, I might as well be honest.

Well, you're writing now, so I know that you aren't dead. Shall I have Spike send a letter to Princess Celestia?

No.
Sunset had to resist the urge to put an exclamation mark at the end of that word. No. Don't do that. I just want to talk to you right now, if that's alright.

Of course. What's up?

How are things with you on this fine morning? Is it a fine morning? What's the weather like in Equestria? What kind of day do the pegasi have planned for you?

Sunshine with a few clouds, why?

Because I'm curious to know. You know, I don't think you really appreciate what a boon it is being able to control the weather until you get to a world where it's all random.

Sunset, are you okay?

Honestly? No. Not really. But I don't want to talk about it yet. I really, really do want to hear about you. I should tell you this more than I do, but honestly? Your life sounds pretty cool when you tell me about it. So cool that I envy you for it much more than I used to envy you for being a princess, albeit hopefully in a way that the envy doesn't turn me sour.


There was a pause, nothing written in the book, for a second or two.

Are you sure that you don't want me to send a message to Princess Celestia?

I'm positive. I have a good reason for it, trust me.

Okay then. If you really want to hear about my life, well
There was another pause, and Sunset could sort of imagine Twilight — well, to an extent; she knew Twilight's colouring, so she could construct a vague mental image of what a lavender alicorn might look like, with more or less the same manestyle as Remnant's Twilight Sparkle, even though they'd never met — pondering her words.

things have been going pretty well with Starlight Glimmer, my new apprentice, albeit we have had a few teething troubles. I have to admit that I didn't exactly cover myself in glory recently.

What happened?

I set Starlight the task of making a friend, by herself, without me introducing them or facilitating it in any way, but then, having set that challenge, I didn't like her choice, and I wasn't shy about admitting it.


Sunset frowned. Could it be…? Was it Sunburst Flare, Tempest Shadow, or Trixie Lulamoon?

Actually, Sunburst and Starlight are childhood friends, and I'll tell you about that in a little bit, and neither of us knows a Tempest Shadow, but it was Trixie, yes.

I can't say I'm surprised. The two of them are tight in our world. But why did you have a problem with it? Trixie's great.

Trixie in your world might be great, but in my world, she's vain, boastful

She's those things in my world too; it's part of her charm.

I sometimes think that you and I have very different definitions of what a charming characteristic is. Although I doubt even you would find it very charming if Trixie in all her vainglory took over Beacon and exiled you from it.


Well, that would depend on what I did to get myself exiled, wouldn't it? 'Exiled'?

That was a while ago, I have to admit, before I became a princess. And I probably shouldn't still be hung upon it, and in fact, I'll tell you that I'm not hung up about it — it's not like I hold a grudge or anything — I just

What happened?

Trixie — who is the one who actually held a grudge against me, not the other way around — got hold of a dark magical artefact called the Alicorn Amulet and used it to boost her magical powers until she could beat me in a magic duel, and as the price of my defeat, I had to leave Ponyville.

Well, obviously that didn't take. What did you do?

I tricked her into taking the amulet off.

Very clever, but how did you do that, if it was the source of her power?

I convinced her that I had another, even more powerful amulet that I was willing to give her. A trick, as I said.

And as I said, very clever. So then what happened? What did she do?

She left. I don't know where she went; I didn't see her again for quite some time until she showed up with Starlight, the friend that I'd asked her to make. And very smug she was about it as well.

Based on my experience, Trixie is a better person than first impressions, or even second impressions, might suggest.

I did think about that. I thought about what you'd told me about your Trixie, and I considered that maybe I'd been too harsh on my Trixie, and maybe, since your Trixie had it in her to become a hero, someone who helps and protects those in need, that maybe my Trixie also had admirable and sterling qualities hidden — very well hidden — somewhere deep inside.


Then I decided that it didn't matter what another person who just happens to be called Trixie Lulamoon was like; I knew the Trixie standing in front of me, and she was bad news. And I told Starlight so.

You'll forgive me for saying so, but that doesn't sound like your greatest moment.

No, it wasn't. Starlight didn't take it very well. And it doesn't give me any comfort to tell you that I was momentarily correct: Trixie was just trying to make me jealous. Or at least, she was trying to make me jealous — to beat me, in her words — by having Starlight choose her over me.

I have to say, that doesn't sound at all like the Trixie I know.

Different worlds, different circumstances, is it really any surprise that we're not exactly the same as our alternate selves? If we were, if there were no differences whatsoever between us, that would essentially say that there was no free will at all, and we were just following pre-ordained paths, playing roles that had been set down for us generations ago by someone who came before us. It would be terrible.

Yes, I suppose you've got a point there, but all the same, that's really not something I could imagine my Trixie ever doing to Starlight.

If it helps, she regretted it almost immediately.

Did that help her? Or Starlight?

Seeing as how they made up, I'd say it did, yes.

And you?

And I what?

Did you make up with Trixie in the end?

Oh, absolutely not, I still can't stand her.


Sunset snorted. I'm sniggering at you right now, just so you know.

And I might deserve it, but I just can't get on with her. Something about her manner just rubs me up the wrong way. You might find it charming, but that doesn't mean I have to be enthralled by someone who refers to themselves in the third person and rolls their r's far, far more than is necessary.

You don't like the trrrrrrilling sound of the grrrrreat and

Please don't.

Alright, I won't. Still, although you talked about this like a mistake, it sounds like a situation where all's well that more or less ends well. I'd take that, if I were you.

Oh, I'm not broken-hearted about it, don't get me wrong. I might mutter under my breath about Trixie every now and then, but the main thing that I take from this is that, even though I'm the teacher and Starlight is the student, that doesn't mean that I don't sometimes have things to learn too.


Sunset smiled. You know, I can imagine Princess Celestia saying that.

Really?

Yeah. You can't?

Princess Celestia doesn't have anything to learn at her age, as experienced as she is, and as wise.

Absolutely true, but she's also very humble.

That is also true. So if you meant that she might say it, not that it would necessarily be correct, then, yes, I could agree with that. What about your Professor Ozpin?


Sunset thought about that for a second. Hopefully, it will make sense when I say that I can't hear it in his voice in my head the way I can with Princess Celestia, but at the same time, Professor Ozpin being quite humble himself, I can imagine that he might say it, but it's a bit more abstract with him. Do you understand what I'm saying?

I think I do; you're saying that you still don't know him as well as you know Princess Celestia.

True. Although, of course, that also leaves me room to have misjudged the man. I think Pyrrha and Jaune would say that I have.


If Jaune were speaking to me, that is. Sunset didn't want to talk about that just yet.

But Princess Celestia would say that I have his measure, or at least a better measure of him than I had before, when I was the one who didn't trust him. So, anyway, anything else new with you?

Why do I suspect that you've got something to say but you're stalling on saying it?

Whatever would make you think that?

The fact that you're clearly stalling on saying something. Why are you changing the subject?

Because I really want to know about your life!
She paused for a second, her chest rising and falling with her breath.

A frown creased her brow. Yes, you're right, I do have something that I need to talk about. And yes, you're right, I don't want to talk about it. But I am curious as to what's up, and I really do like hearing about Equestria — a land that is at peace, a land that isn't under threat, a land that is so, so much happier than this one is. So please, Twilight, sweep me away with a tale of Equestria. Keep me distracted just a little while longer.

There was a slight pause on the other end. And this thing you don't want to talk about is the reason you don't want me to get Princess Celestia?

Twilight.

Okay, I will give you a little time if that's what you want. If you are looking for some happy news, I became an aunt not too long ago.

Really? Congratulations! Not that you really did anything to be congratulated for.

Not that I did anything? I will have you know — not that I don't understand what you mean, but — I played a crucial role in little Flurry Heart's Crystalling.

Ah, yes, the Crystalling. That is


She had to stop writing while she wracked her brain to try and remember what in Equestria a Crystalling was. Crystalling evoked Crystal Empire, and Twilight said that the lost Crystal Empire had returned, and Princess Cadance now ruled the Crystal Empire under Princess Celestia, and Cadance was married to Twilight's brother, so of course their child would have a Crystalling.

Whatever that was.

It's fine to admit you don't know.

I know what a Crystalling is, it's where


She had to pause again, for a little more thought to get her over the line.

It's where the filly or colt is presented to the Crystal Heart

They're presented to the ponies of the Empire, and the love felt for the child empowers the Crystal Heart, making it even stronger than before.

And with each successive generation, love compounding upon love, the magic of the Crystal Heart will only grow. No wonder King Sombra wanted it so badly; it must already be the most powerful magical artefact in Equestria.

Powerful, but fragile, as we found out during the preparations for Flurry's Crystalling.

It wasn't all joy and happiness? You weren't attacked by another villain, were you?

No, no, that hasn't been a problem for a while. I think Tirek was the last time someone truly evil troubled Equestria; Starlight was just hurting and misguided, after all. But no, that wasn't the issue; nobody tried to disrupt Flurry Heart's Crystalling except Flurry herself.


Sunset frowned. She's a little filly; she is a filly, right?

Right.

So what's she going to do?

Well, you know how infant unicorns have quite strong, untamed magic before it settles down after a few months, reaching an equilibrium?

Yes, Clover called it a magical incarnation of the vigour of youth, or even of the concept of youthful vigour. Fillies and colts have a lot of energy for magic in the same way they have a lot of energy for crawling around. On the other hand, or hoof, Buttercup believed it was a representation of youthful possibility and promise.

I've never really bought into that. If it were so, wouldn't it last until you got your cutie mark?

That would suggest that cutie mark's imply a loss of potential.


That isn't what I meant, but never mind. The point is that thus is a well-documented fact, for whatever reason.

But, for all that, it's nothing an adult unicorn can't handle.

But imagine what an alicorn filly in such a state of young power would be capable of.


Sunset blinked. Then she blinked again. She thought she must have misread Twilight, but no, there was that word, sitting there on the page as plain as the daylight coming in through the crack in the curtains.

An alicorn'? Did you say 'alicorn'? Your niece is an alicorn?

I was as surprised as you when she unfurled her wings.

I doubt that somehow. An alicorn? Really? Seriously? I'm sorry, but what in Equestria did she do to earn that at all of newborn old?

Obviously, she didn't earn anything; she was born an alicorn.

That doesn't make it any better, Twilight! You had to complete one of Starswirl the Bearded's unfinished spells to earn — mark that — earn your wings. Cadance had to defeat a witch to earn her horn. I barred myself from my own destiny and ambitions because of the flaws of my nature, but apparently, instead of regretting that or becoming a better person than I was, I should have really regretted that I wasn't born into the right family where I could just pop out with wings and a horn both at once and never need to accomplish a single thing or possess a single virtue in my life!

Don't you call your friend Pyrrha's mother 'Lady Nikos'?

You think you've caught me out with that, but you haven't.

Haven't I?

No. No, you haven't. I am no republican, I can accept the virtues of hereditary privilege, I can defend its glories, I can wax rhapsodic about the greatness of storied families like Pyrrha's, old in honour and rich in glory. But to become an alicorn, to be an alicorn, is something else altogether; it is not a matter of mere birth, it is


Once more, Sunset paused to take stock of her words and to choose the right ones.

To become an alicorn is something transcendental, something numinous. We're talking about an external force — one might even call it the embodiment of magic itself —

I'm not sure that I'd go that far. Magic isn't alive; it's a tool that we use, no different from a pegasi's ability to fly or manipulate the weather or an earth pony's strength. It's nothing to speak so boastfully of.

I'm not boasting.

Unicorn magic should not be placed upon a pedestal. That way leads putting unicorns upon a pedestal, and that way lies Evenfall Gleaming and her madness.

Did you just call me a racist?

No, I advised you not to let your thoughts tend in that direction.

I think you're wildly misinterpreting what I said if you got any of that from what I wrote. I'm just saying, I'm trying to say, trying to write, that ascension is, or should be, something extraordinary, a reward for extraordinary accomplishment and also a signifier of an extraordinary pony. To have somepony simply be born to alicorn-ness cheapens it, or so it seems to me; it tarnishes something beautiful in the same way that the succession of the Maidens here in Remnant was tarnished by the theft of the magic by the first Red Queen.

You mean the murderer who killed the Maiden to take their magic?

Okay, so it's not exactly the same, but can you at least see, without judgement or twisting my words or misinterpreting what I'm writing — and to be clear, I mean no malice whatsoever towards your niece, I'm sure she's lovely — that I'm making some sense?

I do get where you're coming from. As I mentioned, it was a shock to me as well when her wings popped out. But, while I wasn't expecting it, and while Cadance and Shining Armor weren't expecting it either, according to Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, it's far from unheard of. In fact, it seems to be a return to the old way.

'The old way?'

While Princess Celestia was as surprised to see Flurry Heart an alicorn as any of us, she did tell me later that alicorn fillies and colts used to be very common. In fact, born alicorns used to be far more common than ascended ones.

Really? When was this?

Oh, years and years ago, before Princess Celestia and Princess Luna ascended — no pun intended — to the rule of Equestria, when they were little fillies themselves. Did you know that they were both born alicorns?


Sunset bit on her lip just a little. You know, we never really talked about Princess Celestia's childhood. I mean, we did, but always in the context of the early history of Equestria, when the three tribes were still coming together as one kingdom and Starswirl the Bearded was preparing Celestia for the throne, although I suppose that that was more of her adolescence than her childhood. I mean, it's not like I thought that she'd always been there and always would be — not consciously, anyway.

I know what you mean.

But I never really thought about her being a kid, having parents, that sort of thing. Maybe I should have.

I won't pretend that I thought about it before Princess Celestia brought it up. I suppose an adolescent Celestia, who had a few things to learn but was already on the pathway to her destiny, being mentored by the wisest and most powerful unicorn of her day, is a lot easier to accept than a filly Celestia playing pranks on Luna.

Although, now that you've said that, I can see it.

Me too. But, anyway, according to Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, the two of them spent their childhoods in a place called Skyros, growing up in a community of alicorns.

A community of alicorns? Now that I'm having trouble imagining. What would that even look like? I suppose I should ask 'what did that look like?'

I'm not entirely sure; Princess Celestia said that she was happy there but was also quite vague about what it was actually like, beyond the fact that they were all alicorns. But I think it must have been a community much like any other, like Ponyville or Canterlot.

Except they were all alicorns.

Exactly. But what was interesting to me was that even alicorns born — although I suppose, going from the examples of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, that it shouldn't have surprised me — were embodiments of some specific ability or concept. So, not only was Princess Celestia the sun alicorn, and Princess Luna the moon alicorn, but their playmate Opaline was the fire alicorn.

So what happened? Why did Princess Celestia and Princess Luna leave this Skyros and come to Equestria? And so young, too; Princess Celestia told me that she was barely a teenager when Starswirl presented her and her sister at the Great Conclave of the Tribes, when he urged all three races to come together under her rule and promised to guide them on their path to be the rulers that Equestria deserved, and when the rulers of three tribes knelt before them, and the pony tribes acclaimed them, despite the hoof-full of voices raised against them. But then, why did they come to Equestria so young and unaccompanied? Where were their parents, where were the other alicorns?

I don't know. Princess Celestia didn't say. She went quiet, and I fear that it must be a sad story.


Sunset closed her eyes. I fear it too, although had you not made that point, I would have told myself that it was just this place has conditioned me to expect sad stories. And yet, if it were so sad, why did she tell you?

So that I'd understand that Flurry Heart isn't so unusual after all? Or maybe she just wanted to tell me, so that Skyros, her home, wouldn't be completely forgotten, even if all I know is so vague about it. I've been trying to get Princess Celestia to tell me where it is, or was, so that we can go on an expedition there.

'We'?

Me and my friends, of course; and Starlight too. Although Starlight doesn't seem particularly enthusiastic.

She doesn't fancy the journey?

I think it's more that she's concerned about what we'll find there. After all, if it is a sad story, then

Then maybe there are things better left unfound, secrets left untold. Things left in the past. Perhaps there is a reason Princess Celestia will not say more.

Perhaps, but still: an ancient community of alicorns? Living outside of what we now call Equestria? How am I supposed to take such crumbs of knowledge and be satisfied?! How am I supposed to not want to know, to find out more, to discover the truth, whatever that truth might be?

The truth can hurt sometimes, and be unsatisfying. Do what you will, but for my sake and for the sake of Princess Celestia, promise that you'll be careful.

I don't need to be careful when I have my friends by my side.


Sunset winced as Twilight's words stabbed her in the heart; they caused her almost physical pain, so much so that she almost dropped the pen in her hand and felt the urge to clutch at her chest.

Twilight, please.

Okay, I promise. Now, where was I?

Flurry Heart's Crystalling.

Yes, the Crystalling that was almost ruined when Flurry destroyed the Crystal Heart.

She destroyed it?

Not on purpose, obviously.

Even so, she destroyed one of the most powerful magical artefacts in Equestria?

As I said, powerful but very fragile.

So what did you do?

Well, we were all very fortunate that Starlight's childhood friend Sunburst had moved to the Crystal Empire. I'd told her that she ought to meet him, catch up, try and rekindle their friendship, which, reluctantly, she did.

'Reluctantly'?

She was ashamed of what she'd done. Understandable, I guess, even if it did underestimate Sunburst's capacity for forgiveness. Anyway, the way Spike told it, Sunburst was pretty ashamed and embarrassed to see Starlight, too.

What did he have to be ashamed of?

The fact that he felt he hadn't lived up to his potential, hadn't become the great mage the whole town thought he would be when he got his cutie mark and they sent him off to magic school. However, luckily for us, luckily for the Crystal Empire, while Sunburst isn't the most powerful unicorn in Equestria, he is very knowledgeable on magical theory. In fact, he turned out to know more than I did.

More than you? Really?

Yes, really, he knew what I didn't, that a traditional repair spell wouldn't work upon a magical artefact like the Crystal Heart, but he also knew the right combination of spells that would repair the Heart and complete Flurry Heart's Crystalling and put a restraint on her powers for the sake of Shining Armor and Cadance!

All that at once?

Pretty amazing, huh?

All at once, yeah, that is impressive. So that's what he brings to the table.

And so, with Sunburst's knowledge and my power, we were able to restore the Crystal Heart and Crystal Flurry Heart as planned. And the whole Crystal Empire sparkled with the light of love. I have to say, while I'm not sure that I'd like to live permanently in my crystalline form, it is very neat when it happens.


Sunset smiled. You sound like you have a very lovely life, and I mean that in both the nicest but also the kind of envious way.

I choose to take that as a compliment, so thank you, if thanks are appropriate. And you're right, I do have a very nice life. The best. It's a life I wouldn't trade for anything, anything at all.


The writing stopped momentarily, before it resumed.

So what's up that you don't want to talk about? What's up that you don't want to tell Princess Celestia about?

Sunset closed her eyes. She supposed, as much as she would have much rather gone on not talking about it, as much as she would have much rather gone on talking about Equestria, about Twilight's life, about the history of alicorns, anything … they had reached the moment. Having been asked the question so directly, she couldn't put it off any longer.

Ruby found out what I did, in the tunnel under Mountain Glenn. Everyone found out what I did.

There was another pause with no reply from Twilight, a pause that seemed longer and more drawn out than previous delays in her answers.

I see. At least, I see why you didn't want to talk to Princess Celestia about this. How did they find out?

It's a little complicated, but basically — okay, so some good news before that; we won our first two matches in the tournament!

Does that still matter?

Not really, no, but all the same, when we won, when Pyrrha and I beat Trixie and Starlight yesterday in the two-on-two round, it felt so amazing, so wonderful, so glorious. Whatever happened after that, and happens next, I hope never to forget the way that felt, that joy, the roar of the crowd echoing in my ears, the sheer thrill, the fun of a battle with no consequence but fun and entertainment. The joy of Team Sapphire's last triumphs.

That's ominous.

After that, we took Amber to the carnival, where who should show up but Cinder?

Cinder? I thought she was wanted; how did she get into Vale?

That wasn't the most important question on our minds. She was there for Amber, except at the same time, I'm not altogether sure that's true. More than that, I think she just wanted a fight.


Sunset grinned.

And we certainly gave her one of those. The four of us, and Penny, fought her, and beat her, and took her prisoner.

I'd offer my congratulations if I didn't know what was coming up. Was it Cinder who told everyone what you did?

No, Cinder was very chivalrous about the whole thing really; she took her defeat on the chin and even told us a lot of information about Salem's operations in Vale and beyond. Not all of it was true, there were at least a couple of lies in there because I suppose she just can't help herself, but she warned us about a Siren in Vale

A Siren? You mean the creatures vanished from Equestria by Starswirl the Bearded?

The same. I would have rather that Starswirl's wisdom would have extended to finding somewhere else to send monsters and villains.

Princess Celestia told me that she's apologised on behalf of Equestria to Professor Ozpin. So what are you going to do about the Siren?

I'm not sure. Everything happened after that before we could make plans. You see, Cinder also warned us that there were other agents of Salem still in hiding at Beacon, and they must have leaked the information about what I did in the tunnel.

And you couldn't deny it? Was there proof?

No proof that I couldn't have denied, no proof that Councillor Emerald didn't deny, but although I could deny it to the wider world, I just couldn't deny it to my friends anymore, not to their faces, not in private. So when Ruby straight up demanded to know if it was true or not, I confessed to them.

I see. Well, I'm sure that Applejack would say that you did the right thing.

And you?


I should probably say that you did the right thing too, but, even leaving aside the judgement of what you did, simply assuming that it was a fault, having compounded the fault by keeping the secret from everyone for so long, why now? Why choose to confess?

Because Ruby knew it was true. She knew what I'd done; I could see it in her eyes. And, although this may sound stupid, keeping a secret was different from lying to her face when she asked.

No, that isn't stupid at all; it makes perfect sense. To me, anyway. So, if you don't mind me asking, how much trouble are you in?


If we were talking, this is the moment where I would laugh bitterly. Because in a sense, I'm not in any trouble at all. It's as you say, having compounded the fault by keeping it a secret, the public can't be allowed to believe that it's true, what I've been accused of, what I did, because if it were known to be true, then Councillor Emerald — who was accused of knowing what I did, along with Former Councillor Aris — would be destroyed by it politically; and maybe personally too, depending on how vengeful the people were feeling. Since that wouldn't be in the best interests of Vale or its people, he's got my back, and even Ruby has agreed that it mustn't come out, or bring down the First Councillor. Stability in Vale has to come first, the prevention of panic has to be our top priority, and so, I have, in a sense, gotten away with it.

Except you haven't, have you? The fact that you said 'even Ruby,' the fact that you wanted to talk about it, tells me that much. How did she take it? How did they all take it? Who is 'all,' actually? You said it's being kept a secret, but who knows the truth?

All of my friends: Ruby, Pyrrha, Jaune, Penny, Amber, Blake, Twilight — the other Twilight — Ciel, and Dove. Rainbow knew already, but unlike the fact that Councillor Emerald and Professor Ozpin knew, that hasn't come out. As for how they took it, none of them took it well, but Ruby took it hardest. She has a right to not take it well, I've been too bad of a friend to her to bank upon any kind of loyalty or generosity from her. If I wanted to sit upon that branch, I shouldn't have sawn it off with such vigour. She cast me out.

I'm sorry, what?

Just like you were banished from Ponyville by Trixie, I've been banished from Beacon by Ruby.

Trixie was being driven mad by a dark magical artefact.

And Ruby is possessed by a righteous intensity. She blazes with a light more powerful than any that springs from her magical eyes, and it will not abide the presence of a darkness.

You're not a darkness.

Ruby would say otherwise.


You were trying to save everyone.

What are you telling me for, I was there?

Right, I know, I'm sorry; it just seems harsh, that's all.

Perhaps being a huntress is harsh. Or perhaps it should be. Perhaps it was always too harsh for me, and Ruby is just helping me realise what I should have realised a long time ago, that I'm not cut out for this. I don't begrudge her.

I don't believe you're not upset.

Not upset? Of course I'm upset! Come on, Twilight, these are my best friends, this was my home, this was my everything! Yes, I'm upset, obviously, wouldn't you be upset if you had to leave your friends behind? I'm upset. I'm just not angry at Ruby, is all.

And everyone else? Pyrrha, Jaune, didn't they get a say in this? Or did they agree with Ruby?

Jaune probably would have agreed; he wasn't very pleased with me either. Pyrrha gave me a very kind and courteous send-off, fitting of her gentle nature and her royal race. But I don't know whether that gentleness would have stretched to supporting my continued presence in the team if it had come to something as sordid as a vote. Not that I fought for my place; Ruby had made it clear that she could not abide my presence a second longer, and I wasn't going to tear the team apart purely upon my own behalf. I


Sunset screwed up her face.

I deserve this. I don't like it at all, but I deserve it. Certainly, I wasn't going to, I mean, if I'd tried to fight my corner, how would I even have gone about it? And it could be worse; I mean, I could be headed to prison or something.

I suppose. Even so, I'm sorry. You realise I'll have to tell Princess Celestia about this.

If I wanted Princess Celestia to know, then I would have asked you to send for her!

I can't just keep the fact that you've been thrown out of Beacon — or left Beacon, since I doubt that Ruby has the power to expel you — to myself! You can't keep it from Princess Celestia either! What are you going to tell her next time you write and she asks about your friends?

I will

Please don't say you're going to lie to her.

No, I'll tell her that Professor Ozpin asked me to leave school so that I could do some work for him.

You mean lie to her.

When you put it like that, it sounds bad.

Funny, that.

How am I supposed to tell her what I did? How am I supposed to tell her why I had to leave, why Ruby was so incensed with me? I can't tell her. I don't want to tell her.

Understandable, but at this point, I'm not sure that you have a lot of choice.

You might be right. You are right. I hate it, but you're right. But that doesn't mean I have to tell her now, does it?


So long as you tell her the next time you speak, that should be alright. So, what are you going to do now? Do you know? Do you have any idea? Dare I ask if you've considered coming home?

I've considered it, yes.

And?

And I can't.

No? You know, you could have a lovely life yourself. It would be here, waiting for you, if you wanted.

Oh, I want it, believe you me. To have the life that you have, a life that might not be entirely free from fear, but nevertheless more free from it than otherwise, a life without the risk of death, a life of fun and frolics and easy companionship, I want that very much. But just because I want it doesn't mean that I get to have it, and I don't want it just for myself, to selfishly possess all on my own.

Equestria isn't my home anymore, Twilight; it will always have a claim upon my heart, and so will Princess Celestia, but Remnant is my home. It's where my friends are and where my friends are engaged in a great and deadly struggle. I can't just abandon them and swan off to live a lovely life in Equestria while they're still fighting.


It doesn't sound as though they want your help.

Well, tough on them, they've got it anyway. Somehow. In some fashion. I haven't worked out the details yet; I'm hoping that Professor Ozpin will find some use for me, even outside of Beacon. Maybe I can roam around Remnant like Ruby's uncle. Actually, no, I don't think I really want to be him; he dresses like a tramp, and he reeks of alcohol. Ugh. I would prefer Professor Ozpin to find me something a little more fitting for someone who has a little of their self-respect remaining. Maybe I can go to Mistral and serve Lady Nikos, as Pyrrha suggested.

Pyrrha suggested that? It sounds as though she's on your side still.

She suggested that I go to Mistral; that doesn't mean that she wants me around.

She wants you around her house and her mother.

Her mother who she doesn't get on with.

That is a fair point. Have you spoken to her? Pyrrha's mother, I mean.

No, although I should at some point, whether or not I ask her for a place and a position. It would only be courteous, especially since she cannot remain ignorant of these accusations for long. I suppose what I'm saying is that I have options. Even if I don't go to Equestria, which I won't, I am not without choices just because I am without Beacon. There are ways I hope that I may be of service to Professor Ozpin and my friends. I'm just saying that I'm not yet at the door of destitution; there are a few steps left before I'm at the crust of humility.


And even if I was there, I still wouldn't turn bandit, thank you, Raven.

Can I just say that you're taking this very well?

Well, thank you, first of all, although I'm not sure how much I really deserve the thanks. In part, it's just the fact that I'm writing to you in the morning, rather than last night. I have wept out my tears, at least for now. But more than that, it's simply the fact that I have no one to blame for this but myself. And so, that being the case, it makes it very hard to get overly emotional about it. Especially when the Aris family has been so good to me; I'm writing this in Skystar's bedroom. They know what I've done, and still, they offer me hospitality. Pyrrha found out what I'd done, and still, she bade me take Soteria, the sword of her family, with her. Her mother may hold out a hand to offer me a place of honour in her household. Though I have left Beacon, and though that wounds me, nevertheless, I am reminded that I have a great deal to be thankful for, and that cuts against the hurt.

When you put it like that, it seems to me that you, too, have a very lovely life.


Sunset laughed, despite the vast distance of worlds between them. I hadn't thought of it like that, but you know, you might have a point. And you are a part of that, with your constant ear. Thank you, for listening, but also for sharing those stories with me; it was a relief to hear them. If you do make it to Skyros, you'll tell me what you find, won't you? My curiosity is somewhat piqued.

I'll tell you everything that I find out, if I manage to make it there. Take care, Sunset, and don't wait too long to tell Princess Celestia.

I won't, I promise. Thanks again, Twilight, and take care yourself, especially if you go to Skyros. But now, I'm afraid I have to go; I have to prepare for a press conference.

Good luck with that, and with everything else. We'll speak again soon.

I hope so.


She shut the book, her hand resting upon the leather cover, upon the symbol of her cutie mark, the red-gold sun.

Sunset tilted her head back, letting her flaming hair fall down behind her, feeling a little bit of water prick at the corners of her eyes.

Yes. Yes, I am very fortunate for all my faults. I am blessed.

A lovely life.

If not quite so lovely now as once it was, not so very long ago.

Still, like I said to Twilight, I have only myself to blame on that front; nothing to do but make the best of it.


The door opened; Skystar stood in the doorway. "Are you coming?"

"Yes, sorry," Sunset said, "I just … got caught up in the writing, I suppose?"

Skystar frowned. "Are you worried that someone will find that, read it, and discover the truth about what you did?"

"No," Sunset said, as she put the journal aside and got to her feet.

"'No'?" Skystar repeated.

"No," Sunset said again. "Trust me, I'm not going to just leave this lying around people that I don't … trust."

Skystar smiled a little. "Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"And besides," Sunset went on, "what do I have to hide from you?"

"Also a good point," Skystar murmured.

Sunset took a couple of steps across the bedroom floor — with her boots off, her feet made almost no sound at all — when her scroll went off.

"Sorry about this," she said, "but it might be important."

"Just don't answer it if it's the press calling you for a statement," Skystar said.

"If it's not a number I know, I won't bother answering," Sunset said, as she got out her scroll and opened it up. It was … Penny?

Huh.

Sunset debated not answering; she didn't know what Penny wanted, and she wasn't looking forward to trying to explain herself to Penny, if Penny wanted an explanation. But it would be kind of mean to just straight up not answer; courtesy demanded that she at least find out what Penny wanted.

If the conversation strayed into uncomfortable territory, she could also explain that she didn't want to talk.

Failing that, she could always hang up. She didn't want to, but … it wasn't as though she and Penny were going to be spending a lot of time together in future, were they?

"I'm sorry, but I should take this," Sunset murmured. "I will be down as soon as I'm done."

Skystar stepped closer. "Take your time."

Sunset looked up from her scroll. "You don't have to stick around."

"Does it bother you if I do?"

"I … no, I suppose not," Sunset replied. So long as Penny doesn't mention Salem, we should be fine. "I just hope you're not bored."

She pushed the green button to answer the call.

Penny's face appeared on the screen, looking up at Sunset; she smiled up with a glee that seemed, in the circumstances, to verge upon the inappropriate.

"Sunset!" she cried. Her face fell a little, and she looked away somewhere off-screen, as though she was afraid that she was going to get into trouble for sounding too eager. "I mean, um … it's good to see you again."

"Is it?" Sunset asked.

Okay, so maybe I'm a little upset.

"Of course!" Penny declared. "Just because of what happened doesn't mean that we're not friends. Does it?"

"That … isn't really for me to say is it?" asked Sunset. "I mean, I'm the one who … do you still want to be my friend, even after … you know?"

Penny nodded. "Even though what you did was wrong, I still like you. I wish you didn't have to go away."

Sunset bowed her head for a second, her hair falling down all around her face; she brushed it out of the way, lest it form a curtain of concealment between her and Penny. "I wish that too, Penny, even though I think … it's probably for the best. Maybe it … thank you, Penny; it's very nice to hear that."

Penny shifted her head leftwards and rightwards, as though she were trying to peer out of the corners of the screen. "Where are you? That looks like a house?"

"I'm in Former Councillor Aris' house, in Skystar Aris' bedroom," Sunset said. "Skystar is here with me."

Skystar shuffled forwards, leaning in so that her head was just a little bit below Sunset's, somewhat visible in the screen. "Hello. It's Penny Polendina from Atlas' Team Rosepetal, isn't it?"

"I am Penny Polendina, yes," Penny replied. "You remember me?"

"I remember all the Vytal Tournament contestants," Skystar replied. "Names, teams, schools. It all comes with the role. Not that I'll have that for much longer."

"Well, the truth is, maybe you shouldn't tell anyone about this, but the truth is, I'm not part of Team Rosepetal anymore."

Sunset frowned. "You're not?" she asked, stepping away from Skystar so that the latter didn't obstruct her view of Penny. "Why not, what happened?"

Penny cannot have been exiled too, what in Remnant for?

What would move Rainbow Dash to treat Penny as Ruby has treated me?


Penny hesitated for a second. "I … don't be mad, Sunset, but … Professor Ozpin asked me to lead Team Sapphire, at least for now."

"You?" Sunset repeated, before realising how that sounded. "You," she said again, in a hopefully less surprised tone of voice. "You, you are the new leader of the team, wow, that…" She found herself trailing off.

It was fair to say that Penny would not have been Sunset's choice, if Professor Ozpin had bothered to consult her. She had, some time ago, made the decision that if anything were to happen to her, then her voice in the succession would go to Pyrrha, and if she had been consulted, she would have stood by that decision. But Professor Ozpin had not consulted with her, and given the circumstances, he wasn't really obliged to; instead … instead he had chosen Penny.

Not someone that Sunset would have considered, if only because she went to the wrong school, but Sunset supposed, considering it now, that she could see the advantages in it. Penny was, after all, transferring to Beacon, and the topic of where she would fit in, what team would she be a part of, whether she would make any new friends, they had all been things that everyone had been considering, and for which there were no easy answers. But Sunset by removing herself — by being removed — from the equation, had provided just such an easy answer. Sunset slotted out, Penny slotted in, and Team SAPR — or whatever its new name ended up being — had four members again, as Sunset had always wished that it should.

She had said to Pyrrha that she didn't want there to be a permanent empty slot on the team serving as her memorial in death, and she didn't need for it to be a permanent reminder of her defenestration now, either. And Penny, skilled, brave, loving Penny, was perhaps the best choice of a replacement that Sunset could have hoped for in the circumstances.

As for being the leader … Sunset supposed that she could see what Professor Ozpin had been thinking: Penny was popular; she cared about the other members of the team; she was curious, which hopefully also meant that she was keen to learn; she was both a newcomer but at the same time also known to the others.

There were worse building blocks to start off with, even if there were also easier and more propitious starts to being a team leader.

"Congratulations, Penny," she said, "that is—"

"You don't have to lie to me," Penny said. "I know I'm not who you would have chosen."

Sunset was silent for a moment. "That … that's neither a slight nor a judgement on you, Penny," she said. "It … events have proven that my judgement is far from infallible."

"I'm not upset," Penny said. "I get it, I … I'm a little nervous about it myself, but I want you to know — I want you to know, especially — that I … this opportunity means more than anything to me, and I … I promise you that I'll do everything that I can to keep everyone safe. Ruby said that I shouldn't say that."

"I can see why," Sunset murmured. "But I'll take that in the spirit in which it was intended. For what it's worth, I do believe that they will be safer with you than without you, and safer with you than with pretty much anyone else I can think of who might take my place."

"I don't know if I can be as good a leader as you," Penny said. "But I'm going to try."

"You can't be as good a leader as me, Penny," Sunset said, "but I'm sure that if you try hard enough, you can be better."

Penny blinked. "You … you think so?"

It wouldn't be that difficult. "I do."

"Sunset," Penny whispered. "That means a lot. I … I'm so glad. Can I tell you a secret?" She leaned forwards. "A big part of the reason I told everyone that I'd call you is because I was hoping that you'd approve. It … it wouldn't feel right, taking over if you didn't want me to."

"You don't need my blessing," Sunset told her, "but if it helps, you have it. I'm glad to know the team is in good hands. So, now that there are two Ps but no S, what are you going to call the team now?"

"Since nobody can know that you're not on the team anymore, in case they suspect that … you know," Penny said.

"That I did the things they're saying that I did," Sunset said.

"Yes," said Penny, "that. Because of that, we're staying as Team Sapphire for now, and people aren't supposed to really know that I'm the team leader. Luckily, I hang out with you guys all the time, so nobody should suspect anything … except the fact that you're not here. That's why I got this chance to call you, Pyrrha was telling us about last night, and, well, we realised that we need to make sure that if people ask why you're not at Beacon, then we're all giving the same answer. Otherwise, it'll look really suspicious."

"True, but I've had a thought about that," Sunset said. "Councillor Emerald is going to say that he's sending me off on a mission—"

"Snap!" Penny cried. "We were going to say that you were on a mission, too!"

"Great minds, Penny," Sunset said. "To give you the details: I'll soon be leaving for Mount Aris, to take care of some grimm there. And I will actually be leaving, by the way; this is a real mission, given to me by Former Councillor Aris, because she has confidence in me beyond my deserving. But the current Councillor Emerald is going to take the credit for it, prove that he has confidence in me as well, and explain why I'm not around."

"Until your mission is over," Penny said. "But missions end."

"Here we go," Skystar muttered.

"It's a great idea," Sunset insisted.

"What is?" asked Penny.

"I'm going to fake my own death," Sunset declared.

"That doesn't sound like a great idea," Penny replied. "We were thinking that we'd just tell everyone that you decided to drop out of school."

"Very sensible," Skystar commented.

"But that makes it seem like I was … weak," Sunset said. "Or that I couldn't cut it."

"Awww, that sounds awful," Skystar said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Sunset narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, okay, but there's nothing wrong with wanting to be remembered fondly, whether I strictly speaking deserve it or not. And besides, as I've explained, it also draws a sharp line under everything. Nobody's going to ask awkward questions about me if I'm dead. If I'm dead, nobody will care anymore. All of this will be forgotten, and the public will move on to something else."

"But you're not actually going to die, right?" Penny said.

"No," Sunset said. "I'm not actually going to die; I'm just going to disguise myself as someone else. Stop rolling your eyes, Skystar."

Skystar rolled her eyes more. "Penny, help me out and tell Sunset how ridiculous this is."

"I don't know," Penny said. "Is it really that ridiculous?"

"No," said Sunset.

"Yes!" Skystar cried. "How can you not see that?"

"It does sound hard, having to go around for the rest of your life pretending to be somebody you're not," Penny admitted. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Not really," Sunset conceded. "But I'd rather that than have people continue looking into me, trying to work out if I did it or not, not to mention questioning Councillor Emerald — or thinking that I ran away from Beacon, for that matter."

"It sounds difficult, but not that bad a plan," Penny replied. "But if Skystar thinks that it's that bad, then maybe Pyrrha or Jaune or Ruby would agree with her. I should probably talk to them about it."

"You certainly wouldn't want them to think Sunset was actually dead," Skystar informed her. "That kind of thing can spiral out of control in the worst ways imaginable."

Sunset huffed. "Well, look, no firm decisions have to be made right now, so just … I still have time to think about this, okay? Maybe … maybe I'll talk to Lady Nikos and see what she thinks, since Pyrrha seems to think that she'd be willing to speak to me. I think that I'm right, but I am willing to be counselled otherwise. But, for now, you can tell anyone who asks that I'm going on a mission and that I went to speak to Skystar about this … email that she wrote."

"What are you going to say about that?" asked Penny.

"Watch our press conference and find out," Skystar instructed.

"Will do!" Penny declared. "When is it?"

"In about an hour's time," Skystar said. "So we should probably eat something and get ready if we don't want to be facing the press on an empty stomach and in our PJs." She chuckled. "That would have the merit of being original, although I'd still rather eat something."

"Does that mean you need to go?" asked Penny.

"Before we do," Sunset said quickly, "did Pyrrha tell you—?"

"Everything," Penny said. "Pyrrha told us everything, but when we talked to Professor Ozpin, he told us that the most important thing that Pyrrha or Yang could do today was fight in the tournament."

"Well, tell Pyrrha good luck for me, won't you?"

"You could also tell her yourself," Penny said.

"No, we've said our goodbyes," Sunset said. "But I'll be watching, you can count on that." She paused. "I … I hope that we will meet again, whether or not I'm wearing a disguise at the time. I haven't spoken to Professor Ozpin yet, but when I do, I hope he will continue to accept my service."

"Oh, yes, he will!" Penny cried. "Last night, he told Professor Goodwitch to meet you."

"He did?" Sunset replied. "Meet me where?"

"At Pyrrha's mother's," Penny said. "Professor Ozpin thought you'd probably go see her."

"Professor Ozpin is a wise man," Sunset murmured. "At least I am not to be completely cast out. Nevertheless, I… I won't speak to Pyrrha again, just yet. If nothing else it would undermine the notion of saying goodbye at Beacon, and make it all seem… a bit melodramatic. If…" she paused for a moment. "If we do not meet again-"

"Then I'm really glad that I got to meet you," Penny said.

A sigh escaped from Sunset's lips; she could hold it in no longer. "I'm glad I got to meet you too," she said. "Even if this is only for now, as I hope it is, goodbye, Penny."

Penny's face fell as she nodded. "Goodbye, Sunset."

Sunset hung up, staring down at her scroll as the screen went blank, no voice, no sound.

Nothing.

Nothing left at all.

Sunset sighed again. She couldn't seem to help herself. She glanced up at Skystar. "Do you think that any of this is going to work?"

"I … I don't know," Skystar admitted. "I've got no idea. But I do know that we've got no choice but to try and make it work, right?"

"Right," Sunset murmured. She nodded, she forced herself to nod, just as she forced her voice to sound stronger. "You're absolutely right. We've got no choice, so we've just got to do it."

XxXxX​

It was a little under an hour later that they stood outside of Former Councillor Aris' house, facing the press as though they were facing a firing squad.

With the number of flashes going off in their faces, the comparison was not an inapt one.

There were four of them outside, all four of them being photographed, being filmed, all of them having the flashes erupt into their eyes, trying not to flinch away from the bright lights. Skystar and Sunset stood in the centre, with Former Councillor Aris on her daughter's left, and First Councillor Emerald upon Sunset's right.

Their expressions were all grave; that was appropriate for the circumstances, but also fit their moods.

At least, that was how it seemed to Sunset.

She really, really wished that it didn't have to be this way. She really wished that she could have come up with something better for Skystar to say to excuse why she had written that email, because it wasn't great, but … she hadn't been able to think of anything better, and neither had anybody else, so they were stuck with this, and so was Skystar.

Hopefully, it would die down and be forgotten.

"My name," Skystar said, her voice trembling. Sunset would have taken her hand if she had thought it would have been welcome. She was not certain that it would be, and anyway, it would have looked odd for the cameras. "My name is Skystar Aris, and this fuss was started because of an email that I wrote. I wrote it, but I never sent it, I never seriously intended to send it, and this whole thing has been blown up by some hacker who got a hold of a piece of rubbish, as though they stole a scrawled up note from my wastepaper basket."

"So you're denying everything written in the email?" came a question from out of the press pack.

"Yes," Skystar said. "Yes, it isn't true. Councillor Emerald, my mom, they would never cover something like that up."

"Then why did you write it?"

"Because…" Skystar hesitated for a second. "Because Sunset … because Sunset is the person who leaked that recording of Cardin Winchester, the one where he was saying those awful things about the faunus to Blake Belladonna. You might remember, or you might not; it's been a while, and a lot's happened since then. I don't blame you if you've forgotten, I guess it wasn't really that big of a deal, it died down pretty fast, but … but Cardin was my boyfriend, and I … it hurt, finding that stuff out in that way. And so, when I found out, when Sunset told me that she'd done it … I was upset with her, and I wanted to get her back, and so I thought that maybe I would leak something about her, see how she liked it. Only … only I'd have to make something up because Sunset hadn't done anything wrong. It was stupid and petty and mean, and I knew all of that; that's why I didn't send the email. I knew that it would be wrong to lie about Sunset that way."

"What about Councillor Emerald? What about your mother?"

"I knew, I thought, that they would be able to clear everything up, after Sunset had been made to sweat for a little bit," Skystar said. "I knew, I thought, that nobody would seriously believe that they would do something like this." She bowed her head. "I am so sorry for any distress that I've caused to those who lost friends or relatives in the Breach, my message was inappropriate, but—"

"But not intended to be sent," Former Councillor Aris added. "My daughter is here apologising out of maturity and a sense of responsibility, but this is not her fault. She did not contact the news with this information; she thought better of her actions before they led anywhere. The fault, the sole fault, lies with those who illegally accessed her data and used it for malicious purposes."

"Quite frankly," said Councillor Emerald, "the fact that this single message, with no supporting evidence, was blurted out all over the news, reported on by all of you with no due diligence whatsoever, nor even an attempt to contact Miss Aris, Miss Shimmer, myself, or Novo Aris beforehand for our side of the story is utterly disgraceful and a mockery of even the most basic standards of journalism. At least look out the window before you tell me it's raining!"

"Sunset Shimmer, do you deny all this too?"

"It has been categorically denied," said Councillor Emerald. "How many times?"

"Sunset Shimmer, do you deny it?"

"Yes!" Sunset snapped. "Yes, I deny it. I…" She took a deep breath. "My team captured Cinder Fall last night. My teammate, Pyrrha Nikos, is competing in the one-on-one round of the Vytal Tournament today. That should be what you're reporting on, not harassing Skystar for having put something in her deleted items folder!" She took a step forward. "You can come at me, if you want to, you can lie about me, I can handle it; but leave Skystar out of it, leave her mother out of it, and for that matter, leave Councillor Emerald out of it too; he is … he is a good man trying to do his best for Vale in some pretty rough circumstances, and I think he's doing a pretty good job."

Sunset forced herself to look straight ahead, in spite of the flashes going off in her face.

"So will you be watching Pyrrha Nikos in the tournament?"

"Unfortunately not," Sunset said. "I'd love to, but duty calls: Councillor Emerald has asked me to go to Mount Aris to assist in dealing with some grimm there; I'll be setting out as soon as possible."

"Is that true, Councillor?"

"She would hardly have said it if it weren't," Councillor Emerald observed "Yes, it is true. Miss Shimmer has proved herself both capable and reliable, and these false accusations do not dent my confidence in her. I am certain that she will serve Vale as well in Mount Aris as she has served Vale so well so many times already."

XxXxX
Author's Note: The details in here about alicorns derives from my interpretation of what details MLP G5 had offered, up until the end of Chapter 5 of Make Your Mark; it was just my luck that before this chapter got published Chapter 6 of Make Your Mark came out and possibly invalidated some of this, nevertheless I've decided to keep it unchanged because I felt like some of the (possible) Chapter 6 reveals took away some of the interesting possibilities suggested earlier.
 
Chapter 72 - Shadow Over Proceedings
Shadow Over Proceedings


"So, today's the day, huh?" Sunburst said. "Do you think Rainbow Dash will be able to pull it off, go all the way? Or maybe even Neon?"

"How do you know it will be Neon Katt?" asked Starlight. "I mean, they might pick their team leader to go through to the one on one round."

Sunburst shook his head. "Neon is the one with the most talent on Team Funky; they'd be smart to send her through."

"That doesn't mean they'll do it," Starlight pointed out.

"Maybe not," Sunburst admitted. "But I also overheard her other two teammates talking about how Neon was going to go through to the one-on-one."

"Oh, well that does suggest that it'll be her," Starlight admitted.

The four members of Team TTSS were in their dorm room. Trixie had just come out of the bathroom, the last of them to enter and thus the last to leave, and was currently clasping her starry cape around her neck and shoulders as a unique addition to the Atlas uniform that they were all wearing. Sunburst was sitting on his bed, while Starlight was on her feet, standing in the middle of the dorm room, arms folded.

Tempest was, like Sunburst, sat on her bed at the far end of the room, looking down at her scroll.

"Personally, I don't think that she'll go all the way," Starlight went on. "Neon isn't bad, don't get me wrong, but she's not all that great, and there are some good fighters — or at least, there'll probably be some other good fighters in the mix — and I'm not sure that she has what it takes to get past them."

Trixie looked at her, her cape swirling around her. "There are probably some other good fighters in the mix?"

"We don't know who's going to be representing all the teams, do we?" Starlight replied.

"No," Sunburst admitted. "But do you think any of the possible choices could be bad?"

Starlight hesitated for a moment. "Flash Sentry," she said. "I know that he's Rainbow's friend from combat school—"

"And Trixie's too," Trixie reminded her. "Flash isn't bad."

"He's not all that great, either," Starlight said. "They'd be better off sending Weiss to the one-on-one round."

"Better off for who?" asked Sunburst. "It might not be better off for Weiss to walk into that arena again and get booed and jeered at."

"She didn't mind it so much that it kept her away from the two-on-two," Starlight pointed out. "Admittedly, I don't know Weiss Schnee … at all, but I know that Blake and Rainbow like her, and I don't think they would if she didn't have the guts to face the crowd in spite of their reception. Besides which, as much as it might seem like the whole world hates her and her family, that's not actually true. The people who do hate her are making the most noise right now, but there are other people who…" She sighed. "I bet there are people who think that her family knew all about those camps, and they should be loud and proud about it; it's just they daren't say anything right away."

"They want the Schnees to be loud and proud, but they're silent," Trixie muttered. "Ironic. Hopefully, Weiss Schnee wouldn't want that kind of support."

"No, I'm just saying that just because the crowd sounds hostile doesn't mean that it is," Starlight replied.

"But what about it, if they're too afraid or too ashamed to make some noise?" asked Trixie. "It doesn't matter what the crowd feels; it matters what the crowd says. Is Weiss Schnee, or anyone competing in the final round, supposed to work out what the crowd is really feeling? The only thing that they'll know is what they can hear, and what they hear is what the crowd feels, to all intents and purposes. Anything else is just … if the crowd didn't cheer for your act, you're just kidding yourself if you say that a silent majority thought it was great." She coughed. "Not that the Grrrrrreat and Powerrrrrful Trrrrrrixie has ever had a problem with a silent crowd, obviously; Trrrrrrixie gets them on their feet, every single time."

Starlight smiled. "Of course you do," she said. "You're great." The smile stayed on her face. "Anyway, to answer Sunburst's original question, or the half that I didn't answer before: Rainbow might go all the way, or she might not; it depends on who she gets drawn up against. Just like it was for us, if we'd been drawn against some of the Shade or Haven teams that were up yesterday, then Trixie would be one of those appearing in the finals today; it was only bad luck that we got Sunset and Pyrrha the way we did. If Rainbow's first fight is against Pyrrha Nikos, then with all love and respect for Rainbow, she'll be out. Against some other opponents, she stands a much better chance. It's the luck of the draw."

"You don't think Rainbow can beat Pyrrha?" Sunburst asked.

"If Starlight couldn't defeat Pyrrha Nikos, then there's no way that Rainbow Dash will be able to do it," declared Trixie.

Starlight shook her head slightly. "What do you think?" she asked Sunburst. "You've watched her fight; what's your read on her?"

Sunburst cupped his chin with one hand. "Rainbow has speed on her side," he murmured. "But in the tight quarters that the final rounds take place in, I'm not sure how much good that will do her. You're probably right, but not definitely. Despite her name, no one is invincible."

"I suppose we'll see about that, won't we?" asked Starlight. "It would be good to see Rainbow fly the flag for Atlas all the way."

"If it matters," Tempest remarked, from the end of the room.

The other three members of the team looked at her, Sunburst shuffling around on his bed.

"'If it matters'?" Trixie repeated, her voice rising in pitch like the squawk of a parrot. "'If it matters'? Of course it matters; it's the Vytal Tournament, why wouldn't it matter?"

Tempest looked up from her scroll, turning her neck to look at the three of them. "Because I've just read something pretty interesting on the news. It seems that Dash's Beacon friend Sunset Shimmer has been a bit of a naughty girl."

Trixie frowned. "What do you mean, 'naughty'?"

"It says here," Tempest said, "that she caused the Breach at the end of the last semester; she's the one who let the grimm into Vale."

"What?" Starlight demanded. That didn't sound like Sunset, or at least, it didn't sound like the Sunset that she and Trixie had worked with in Arcadia Lake. Admittedly, that had been after the Breach, but still, the Sunset that they'd worked with had tried to save Arcadia Lake; why would she have bothered to do that if she'd been planning on destroying Vale? If she was like Eve, or like the Cinder Fall, then … why bother?

It just didn't make any sense to her.

"I'm just telling you what I'm reading," Tempest said.

"Reading where?" Starlight stalked across the room and plucked Tempest's scroll out of her hands.

"Hey!"

"Valish News Network," Starlight read from off Tempest's screen. "Okay, let's see … they captured Cinder Fall! You could have opened with that."

"Who did?" asked Trixie.

"Sunset and her team, and Penny Polendina from Team Rosepetal," Starlight said. "It said they did it last night; she was … out on the street at the carnival?"

"The wanted criminal went to the carnival?" Sunburst asked.

"Everyone needs to relax and unwind sometimes, it seems," Trixie muttered.

"Even so!" Sunburst said. "But they took her out."

"Apparently," Starlight said. "There was a fight, but judging by these pictures … and this video." She tapped the screen to play the clip, but didn't turn the sound on. "Yeah, Sunset projected a shield around the fight to protect bystanders."

"Nice," Trixie said. She frowned. "But it was only Penny Polendina from Team Rosepetal? No one else."

"It doesn't mention Rainbow or Ciel Soleil or even Blake," Starlight said. "I guess they weren't there. You know how Penny Polendina's practically half Beacon already, and she's transferring here next year. She must have been hanging out with her friends."

Trixie shrugged. "So what's this about Sunset causing the Breach?"

"Scroll down," instructed Tempest.

Starlight did as she was bade, scrolling down the screen to read further. She blinked. "So, someone anonymously sent in an email that they had hacked out of the Amity Princess' deleted emails—"

"They can do that?" squawked Sunburst. "I thought they were deleted!"

"Apparently not," Trixie said. "What do you have in your deleted emails, Sunburst?"

"Nothing," Sunburst said, and now, it was the turn of his voice to rise. "I certainly don't have a lot of angry replies to my mom that I didn't have the guts to send to her when she pestered me about my career plans."

Starlight rolled her eyes. "Honestly, in a few years, you're going to be a commissioned officer with the Atlesian military; what more does your mom want?"

"I think what she really wants is for me to have an office job with the SDC," Sunburst replied. "Or at least she did, before all this. She kept asking me if I'd had the chance to ingratiate myself with Weiss Schnee yet."

"Did you even try to ingratiate yourself with Weiss Schnee?"

"No, of course not," Sunburst said. "I'm not that kind of person … and even if I was that kind of person, I still wouldn't have had the guts to actually do it."

"What does it say about Sunset?" pressed Trixie. "What was in this email from the Amity Princess? What does the Amity Princess have to do with anything?"

"The Amity Princess for this festival is Skystar Aris; she's the daughter of … her mother was the First Councillor of Vale," Sunburst explained. "She got forced out after the Breach."

"So she's bitter," Trixie said flatly.

"According to this," Starlight said, "the email states that the Amity Princess, Skystar Aris, overheard her mother and the Valish Councillor Aspen Emerald talking to Sunset about what she'd done, or Sunset confessing to it and them agreeing to cover it up."

Starlight scrolled further down — only to find that there wasn't much further to scroll. "That's it?" she said, turning to face Tempest, tossing her scroll back to her. Tempest caught it in one hand.

"That's it?" Starlight repeated. "There's no other evidence, nothing, it's just … that?"

"You don't believe it?" asked Tempest.

"I can barely work out what I'm being asked to believe," Starlight said.

"That Sunset Shimmer, forced to choose between the lives of her friends or the security of Vale, chose her friends and was willing to sacrifice the city of Vale for their sake," Tempest said.

"You got that from that write-up?" Starlight asked. "No, I don't believe that, it doesn't track with me, and if you wanted to get me to believe it, you'd need more than someone slipping a letter under the door. There's nothing there. It's fake news."

"There is the email," Tempest pointed out.

Starlight's eyes narrowed. "Does it matter to you that I believe this?"

Tempest was silent for a moment. "I just think that they wouldn't be reporting on it if there wasn't some chance that it was true."

"If it's true, then we'll find out eventually," Trixie said. "Until then, I'm not going to start suspecting our friend, a fellow Canterlot Girl, someone that Trixie has fought alongside, because of a few words written by some Valish journalist. No, that will not be happening."

"I wonder who'd do something like that?" Starlight murmured. "Who would create that fake email and send it to the press?"

"Assuming that it is a fake," Tempest said.

"Either way, I find their motives more interesting than the story itself," Starlight murmured.

"Greatness attracts envy, as the Grrrreat and Powerrrrful Trrrriixie knows only too well," Trixie said. "Perhaps someone saw a faunus victorious in the tournament yesterday and thought that she needed to be cut down to size?"

"Kind of extreme, don't you think?" asked Sunburst.

"But the Valish Councillor is a faunus too, and the Aris family has faunus relatives, I think," Starlight said. "So it might be racism."

"Whatever the motive, it's nonsense up until it isn't, which Trixie doesn't think is very likely," Trixie said. "If Sunset is arrested, then Trixie will, with the greatest reluctance, admit that she was wrong, but unless that happens, we are not in the business of suspecting our allies or our friends. Is that clear?"

"No," Tempest said bluntly. "What are you asking me to do?"

"I'm ordering you to be a little less…" Trixie waved her hand up and down in Tempest's direction. "You. I'm telling you not to make any snide remarks about this when you see Sunset or Rainbow Dash or Blake or anyone else."

Tempest smirked and threw Trixie a salute that Starlight couldn't help but feel had a rather mocking quality about it. "Yes, ma'am."

There was a series of very heavy knocks upon the door.

"I'll get it," Starlight said, and once more made her way across the room to open the door.

General Ironwood stood on the other side; Starlight had to look up after being initially confronted with the sight of his chest.

"Sir!" Starlight barked, taking a step backwards. "Officer on deck, ten-hut!"

Sunburst and Tempest both leapt to their feet as Trixie slammed her heels together, her hands going to her sides as all four members of Team TTSS sprang to attention.

"At ease," General Ironwood said as he strode inside.

The four members of Team TTSS relaxed their posture appropriately, spacing their feet out and clasping their hands together behind their backs.

"To what do we owe the pleasure, sir?" Trixie asked.

Starlight was wondering that as well; if General Ironwood was going to pay a visit to any team this morning, he would have expected it to be RSPT or FNKI, to give Rainbow or Neon — or both of them — a pep talk ahead of the final rounds. Instead, he was here for them, even though they'd been defeated and had become irrelevant to the tournament. Which meant that he was here for something else. But what?

General Ironwood also had his hands clasped together. He looked around the room — no, he was looking around at the team — as he strode into the centre of the room.

His eyes seemed to linger on Tempest for a moment longer than on anyone else.

"Shadow, Flare," he said, "dismissed. Close the door on your way out."

"Uh, yes, yes sir," Sunburst said, as he began to march to the still-open doorway. Tempest did likewise, with a sideways glance at General Ironwood.

The door shut behind them with a thud.

Whatever it is, it's for me and Trixie, not Sunburst or Tempest.

Something … secret, then?
Starlight, at least, was privy to some of General Ironwood's secrets, as much as she wished that she wasn't, but Trixie? Were they about to be made privy to some of them?

Or was this just a job that General Ironwood had for just the two of them?

Whatever it was, Starlight was starting to wish that General Ironwood hadn't decided to pay them a visit. She didn't like this, and not just because she wasn't as fond of General Ironwood as some of her fellow students were. She didn't want to be … involved in anything right now; she wanted to cheer on Rainbow Dash in the final rounds, that was all.

She suspected that that wasn't going to be all by the time that General Ironwood was through with them.

Neither she, nor Trixie, said anything. They stood silently at ease, waiting for General Ironwood to divulge his intentions.

"I … understand that you fought well yesterday," General Ironwood said. "I hope that you don't feel too disappointed by your loss."

"A little, sir," Trixie said.

"'A little'? That's only natural," General Ironwood assured her. "But don't take it too much to heart. You're good students and a good team; I wouldn't want you to lose sight of that."

Trixie raised her chin a little. "Never, sir."

A smile tugged at the corners of General Ironwood's lips. "I'm glad to hear it, Lulamoon. Glad to see that chin up too."

"Thank you, sir."

General Ironwood looked at Starlight. "And you, Glimmer? How are you taking it?"

"We gave it our best shot, sir," Starlight said, not quite looking at General Ironwood. "We were unfortunate to draw a pair who outmatched us. But I think that says more about them than it does about us."

General Ironwood nodded. "True enough. That's a good attitude to have, Glimmer."

"Sir," Starlight said softly.

General Ironwood went quiet. He almost looked as if he was going to frown, although he didn't. Still, he did pause for a few seconds.

"I'm afraid there is no easy way to say this," he admitted. "Have you two noticed anything unusual or suspicious about Shadow recently?"

Starlight couldn't keep her eyebrows from rising. Unusual or suspicious? Tempest?

What in Remnant's going on?


Trixie licked her lips. "General … would you mind explaining yourself a little more? I mean … Trixie knows that some people might call things that Trrrrixie does unusual, even if they weren't suspicious."

"I'm not asking about personal habits," General Ironwood said. "Unless you've noticed Shadow becoming unusually secretive lately? Does she sneak out often, disappear without explanation, conceal her activities from you?"

"Yes," Starlight said softly. "Yes, sir, she has, sometimes; around the time of the bombing at the Mistralian Embassy, Tempest disappeared for a couple of days, didn't show up."

"Did she say where she'd been when she came back?" General Ironwood asked.

"She told Trixie that she was going to enjoy her Valish liberty, before we went back to Atlas and curfew, sir," Trixie said. "That was before she left."

"I see," General Ironwood murmured. "And you allowed that?"

Trixie hesitated for a moment. "When in Vale, sir?"

"Hmm," General Ironwood said, without revealing what he thought of that. "Anything else? Has she been spending a lot of time with Bonnie Bonaventure of Beacon's Team Bluebell?"

"Bon Bon?" Trixie said. "Sir, what's this about ?"

"Answer the question please, Lulamoon," General Ironwood. "Or you, Glimmer. Has Shadow been spending a lot of time with Miss Bonaventure?"

"'A lot'?" Trixie asked. "I've seen them together a couple of times, but not a lot. General—"

"I know," General Ironwood said. "I know, this looks as suspicious as anything that I'm asking you about, me barging in here asking questions about one of your teammates. I know that your instinct, your training, as a team leader, is to cover for your teammate."

"Yes, sir," Trixie said. "Trixie won't pretend that Tempest and I are best friends, but she is on my team, so I'd like to know why you're asking me to throw her under a bus."

"I'm not asking you to condemn Shadow, I'm not looking for evidence against her," General Ironwood said, "but accusations have been made against Shadow which I cannot in good conscience ignore or dismiss, as much as I might want to."

"'Accusations'?" Starlight repeated.

"I'm afraid the details are classified," General Ironwood said. "Suffice to say that, as much as my instinct, my training, as yours, is to defend my people, as much as I would hate to believe that anyone wearing the white of Atlas would betray their comrades, recent revelations have forced me to admit that we may have one or two rotten apples within the ranks. And I can't ignore the possibility that Shadow might be one of those rotten apples." He paused. "And so I'm afraid I have a job for you two. It's one you won't like, and I'm afraid it's one that will give you scant reward, but it is one that may be necessary, and it's a task that I cannot let go undone. I need you to monitor Shadow for at least the next couple of days, don't leave her unattended; don't worry about making her suspicious, that's not important, what's important is—"

"That she doesn't have space to do anything unobserved, sir?" Starlight asked.

General Ironwood nodded. "Precisely, Glimmer."

Starlight pursed her lips together. It was safe to say that, just like Trixie, she wasn't the biggest fan of Tempest Shadow: she was aloof, smug, and … Starlight mentally searched for ways to express this without sounding terrible even in the confines of her own head; she was aware that people like Tempest, who had lost limbs and needed prosthetics as a result, sometimes suffered discrimination or prejudice because of it. It was one of those things you couldn't be unaware of, like bigotry against the faunus; it wasn't right, but it happened sometimes. But there were times when it seemed as though Tempest wasn't going to wait around for the actual bigotry; she was just going to assume it had already happened and take action against people for it.

Suffice to say that she wasn't the most likeable person that Starlight had ever met.

But she was still Starlight's teammate, and for all her faults, they had fought together, and Starlight didn't want to suspect her of … well, it didn't help that General Ironwood was being very vague about what it was that he suspected Tempest of. Accusations had been made against her, by who?

By Cinder Fall? That would explain the timing; Team SAPR had caught Cinder last night, and she'd started singing. She'd fingered Tempest, and probably Bon Bon too, judging by what General Ironwood had said, as … something; grimm cultists or some such. Bad news, in any case. She'd named them, and General Ironwood didn't feel as if he could ignore it.

The worst part was that he was right: it couldn't be ignored. Yes, they couldn't and shouldn't lock Tempest up on the word of some little villain, but as much as Starlight didn't want it to be true, if it were true, and they ignored it, then … then they wouldn't be the ones facing the consequences.

"Understood, sir," Trixie said, in a rather glum, rather quiet voice.

"Thank you, Lulamoon," General Ironwood said quietly. "I appreciate that. I hope it will turn out to be unnecessary, but if it isn't—"

"Then what, sir?" asked Starlight.

General Ironwood looked down at her. "Then stop her," he said softly. His voice rose a little as he said, "That's all."

Starlight and Trixie both stood to attention. "Sir."

General Ironwood turned away and walked to the door. He left it open behind him as he walked out.

Starlight looked at Trixie. She opened her mouth—

"Can we come back in?" asked Sunburst from outside.

Starlight closed her mouth again.

"Yes," Trixie said. "It's fine."

Sunburst led the way in, followed by Tempest, who shut the door behind her.

She glanced between Trixie and Starlight.

"Anything we should know about?" she asked.

"If there was, you would have been in the room to hear about it," Trixie replied.

Tempest smiled, or maybe she smirked; it was hard to tell. "Of course."

Starlight found she couldn't take her eyes off Tempest, because that was what they'd just been ordered to do, keep an eye on Tempest, but also because … that was the worst thing about suspicion, wasn't it? Like a cancer, it was hard to get rid of once it was there.

What do they think you've done, Tempest?

Or what do they think you're going to do?


XxXxX​

"A grimm attack?" Rainbow asked. "There's going to be a grimm attack?"

"Possibly, if what Cinder said is true," General Ironwood said. "For obvious reasons, no one's sure of how much of what she said ought to be believed. But I've taken precautions, both against the grimm and against any potential … action from the Valish."

"What about Tempest Shadow?" asked Blake. "Or Bon Bon, for that matter?"

Rainbow, Blake, Ciel, and Twilight were lined up in a row, facing General Ironwood, who had just finished explaining to them what Cinder had told Sunset and Pyrrha, before the whole 'Sunset caused the Breach' thing kicked off and caused Ruby to kick Sunset out and generally just drove everything else out of everyone else's mind for a little while.

It was like General Ironwood had said: the question was how much of what Cinder had said ought to be believed. After all, it was Cinder saying it.

Some of it, like the grimm attack, they lost nothing by preparing for, especially since the grimm were actually sitting right there and, while it wouldn't be complete unheard of for them to sit on the outskirts growling and making noises only to turn around and slink off again — they'd done just that to all those little Valish villages, after all — it also wouldn't be very surprising for them to have another go at Vale, and the General didn't lose anything by preparing for that.

And as for the idea that there was some kind of magical creature from Equestria who was making everyone hate Atlas — and the faunus — well, that … that was one of those things that you wouldn't say unless it was true because it just sounded so out there otherwise; I mean, who'd come up with something like that?

Apart from anything else, how would Cinder know about Equestria if Salem hadn't come into contact with some Equestrian monsters? Sunset had never mentioned telling her.

So, yeah, Rainbow could buy that, and she was open to the idea that the grimm were about to attack because that was what they did; for the rest, though? She didn't know this Professor Lionheart, at all, but Tempest and Bon Bon?

How well did she know Tempest Shadow? Not well, not nearly as well as she knew Trixie or Starlight. If Cinder had named either of them, then Rainbow would have known straight away that she was full of it, but Tempest?

Not everyone who wore an Atlesian uniform was a saint, unfortunately; if Phoebe could hide her evil in a cloud of boot polish and deafen the whimpering of her victims with the noisy clicking of her heels and the thump of her feet slamming into the floor, then why not Tempest?

It wasn't unfortunate, it was really unfortunate, but you couldn't say that anybody was above suspicion just because they wore the whites.

So maybe Cinder was right about Tempest; not right, maybe she was telling the truth about Tempest. But Bon Bon? Bon Bon, really?

"There's no way that Bon Bon could be mixed up in this," Rainbow muttered.

"She tried to frame me for assaulting her and Cardin so that I'd get expelled," Blake reminded her.

"Which was a jerk move on her part, but it doesn't make her evil," Rainbow pointed out. "Or is Cardin working for Salem too?"

"Okay, that's a fair point," Blake replied. "But … why are you so sure that Bon Bon can't be involved?"

"Because I've known her for years; we were at combat school together."

"And how well do you really know her after all these years?" asked Ciel softly.

Rainbow's mouth opened, but no words emerged. "That … okay," she admitted. "But—"

"But we know her well enough that she doesn't seem to be capable of … of working with Salem," Twilight said. "She was never cruel, never … has she been that good of an actor this whole time, to have fooled everyone? Cinder was new to Haven, nobody knew where she was, and she couldn't keep up the charade for a whole year, but Bon Bon has been doing it for five years now? And would Salem really recruit someone that young?"

"Not to mention the fact that…" Rainbow hesitated. "I mean, in the nicest possible way—"

"She's not that good?" Blake suggested.

"Yes, exactly," Rainbow said. "With Cinder, you can see why Salem would want her: she's pretty hard core; it took the whole of Team Sapphire and Penny to bring her down. Tempest … didn't do so well against Cinder, but why would she even try if she was working with her—?"

"Perhaps they are not working together?" offered Ciel. "Perhaps Cinder's willingness to expose her comrades indicates some rift in Salem's camp? Perhaps Salem is simply one of those who believes that pitting your subordinates against one another in a tooth and claw battle for supremacy produces better results than cooperation and coordination?"

"Maybe," Rainbow agreed. "But anyway, even Tempest, I guess I could see it, but Bon Bon? Again, in the nicest possible way—"

"You know she's not actually here to hear this, right?" interjected Twilight.

"Yeah, but still," Rainbow said. "Why? What does she bring that would be worth having?"

"Miss Bonaventure is Ozpin's concern, as his student," General Ironwood said. "He can deal with her, or not, as he wishes. As for Shadow, I've ordered Lulamoon and Glimmer to monitor her activities for the time being, make sure that she doesn't do anything untoward."

"And is there anything that we can do, sir?" asked Blake. "About … any of this?"

"There's no need to involve yourself with Shadow," General Ironwood declared. "And there's nothing that you can do about the Valish, but in the event that there is a grimm attack, then Dash, Belladonna, Soleil, I want you to get Lady Belladonna and escort her to safety aboard my ship. Councillor Cadenza has her own security detail, but as far as I'm aware, Lady Belladonna is here alone, isn't that right, Belladonna?"

"Yes, sir, it is," said Blake.

"Are you going to be watching the finals with your mother in Councillor Cadenza's box?" asked General Ironwood.

"I wasn't—"

"Do it," General Ironwood said. "And see if you can wrangle Soleil an invitation up there as well; if not—"

"I can lurk around the vicinity if need be, sir," Ciel said.

"Councillor Cadenza's security detail might have something to say about that," General Ironwood muttered. "Dash, if … if you have bad luck out there today, make your way up there as well."

"Understood, sir," Rainbow said. "I'll fly my airship up to the Colosseum so we can fly Lady Belladonna out if we have to, instead of relying on a Skybus."

"The Skybuses that everyone else will be using," Blake murmured.

"Everyone else isn't a VIP," Rainbow said.

"Even so—"

"We can't afford to lose the High Chieftainness of Menagerie," the General said firmly. "It's bad enough that we have to worry about the Valish, without one of the most prominent faunus on Remnant getting eaten by a nevermore on our watch. Stay with your mother, and if need be, get her out. Do you think she'll accept sanctuary aboard an Atlesian cruiser?"

"Yes, sir, I think she will," Blake said. "Frankly, I'm more worried that she'll insist that I stay there with her."

"If that's what it takes, do it," said General Ironwood.

"Sir!" Blake gasped. "I … with all due respect, I don't want to sit around aboard the Valiant while everyone else is fighting against the grimm."

"Believe me, Belladonna, I can think of many better uses for your talents," General Ironwood assured her,"but when high ranking officials and diplomats are involved, sometimes, we have to compromise against our instincts. If you want to rise in rank in the service, you'll need to learn to sometimes do things you don't like in order to keep the politicians happy."

"I … suppose so, sir," Blake huffed. "I just wish that it wouldn't start before I've actually joined the service, or even the academy."

General Ironwood chuckled softly. "Trust me, Belladonna, there'll be plenty more opportunities to display your valour to come, and that's even if your mother behaves as you're afraid she will. She might surprise you and let you re-enter the fray."

"You're right, sir, that would be surprising," Blake muttered dryly.

"I know that Councillor Cadance has her own security detail, sir," Rainbow said. "But it would be easy for me to fly them both out to the Valiant, since they'll both be coming from the same place."

General Ironwood nodded. "If it comes to that, do it. Twilight, I'd like you to stick close to Councillor Cadenza today as well."

"Yes, General," Twilight murmured. "So the tournament is still going ahead?"

"We can't call it off, Twilight," General Ironwood said. "Not without risking a panic, and not without tipping our hand to the Valish. I'm afraid that we have to let this play out, and if Cinder is lying, then we won't have cancelled one of the biggest events of the year for nothing. But I'm increasing security on the arena and the grounds of Beacon: I'm positioning the Resolution and the Gallant in close proximity to the arena and the school, all forces are on standby for an attack, and … we're ready for this. If the grimm attack, they won't take us by surprise."

"What about the Siren, sir, this … magical monster?" asked Rainbow Dash. "The one that's the reason we have to worry about the Valish, that's the reason why the faunus have to tiptoe around. What are we going to do about that?"

General Ironwood sighed. "I'm honestly not sure, Dash. I don't know who we could put up against a creature like that who wouldn't be vulnerable to their powers. Ozpin had hope that Miss Shimmer would be able to handle it with the help of her team, but now … Ozpin still intends to reach out to her, but there's a question mark over whether she'll do it or not."

"I don't think that Sunset will turn down a request like that; it's not who she is," Rainbow replied. "But even if she does, that doesn't mean that we have to do nothing."

"Ideally, we wouldn't, but there's no point in throwing men into battle who'd just get … whatever it is this creature does. We don't have enough of an idea of its strengths, its vulnerabilities, to know how to stop it. Even if we could find it, rushing in might simply be handing it more weapons to use against us." General Ironwood paused. "Oz is going to speak to Miss Shimmer about this, and if her own team won't back her up, then—"

"She can count on us, sir," Blake said.

"I'll be sure to tell Ozpin that," said General Ironwood. "But for now, Belladonna, Soleil, focus on Lady Belladonna as your top priority. And Dash, for now, your priority is the tournament itself. Put on a good show to distract the crowd from all their worries. That's the point, after all, and never more apposite than in a situation like this."

Rainbow's back straightened. "Yes, sir. I won't let Atlas down, sir."

"I know," General Ironwood said. Again, he took a breath. "I know that this isn't the best news, and I'm sorry that the last day of the tournament can't only be about that, but don't worry too much. We're doing everything we can. That will be all for now."

"Yes, sir," Rainbow said.

General Ironwood walked to the door, opening it. He paused in the doorway, giving Rainbow Dash one last look. "Good luck out there, Dash."

"Yes, sir!" Rainbow said as General Ironwood shut the door behind him.

A moment of silence followed as the sound of the door closing faded.

Rainbow unclasped her hands from behind her back and let them fall to her side. "A grimm attack, huh?"

"Not exactly unexpected, once one learns that the grimm are already close by," Ciel observed. "I would call it the most believable part of Cinder's so-called information."

"You think the rest isn't true?"

"It may be," Ciel allowed. "Or it may not. We cannot say for certain, since Cinder has provided no proof, but equally, we have not looked to convict or vindicate Tempest Shadow or Bon Bon. It is all up in the air. That is why General Ironwood must take precautions in regards to Tempest, as much as in regard to Lady Belladonna's safety."

Rainbow glanced at Blake. "Perhaps you should just tell your mom to stay in her hotel."

"Would she be safer in her hotel, in the middle of a city that might turn hostile, than in the Amity Colosseum surrounded by young huntsmen and huntresses, and with me right there beside her?" Blake asked. "And Sun, too, for that matter."

"That … is a very good point," Rainbow admitted. She had been thinking about suggesting that Applejack should keep the others away — there was nothing confidential about saying 'there are a lot of grimm sat outside Vale, and we're worried that they might attack' for the safety of the kids, but Blake did make a very good point.

"All the same," she said, getting out her scroll, "I'm gonna call Applejack, see if she brought One in a Thousand with her, just in case."

"That might make the others a little suspicious," Blake said.

"She can tell them why she's carrying it, if she likes," Rainbow replied as she opened up her scroll.

It only took a few flicks with one finger to find Applejack's number and a single push of a button to call it.

And it only took a couple of seconds after that for Applejack to answer.

"Mornin', Rainbow Dash," she said, interrupting herself halfway through for a pretty darn impressive yawn. "What can I do you for?"

"Morning, Applejack," Rainbow said. "Did you bring your gun with you?"

Applejack's eyes narrowed just a little bit. "Why?"

"Because there are a lot of grimm sat on their butts outside the Green Line," Rainbow said. "Now, do you have One in a Thousand or not?"

"Yeah, Ah've got it," Applejack said. "How many grimm are we talkin' about?"

"Maybe you should bring it with you to today's matches," Rainbow said.

"How many grimm are we talkin' about?" Applejack repeated.

Rainbow Dash took a deep breath in. "A lot," she admitted.

"And you're worried they might attack?" Applejack asked.

"The General's worried about it," Rainbow said. "He's got the troops on the front line standing by, the airships, the cruisers, all prepped and ready for him. Sure, maybe they'll go away, but you know as well as I do that sometimes — a lot of the time — they don't go away; they go for the throat."

"And Ah know that we could start bombin' them right now before they do—"

"In Atlas, sure," Rainbow said. "But this is Vale; the General's hands are tied by … politics." Politics and a magical monster stirring up hate against us. "We have to wait for them to come to us."

Applejack frowned. "I ain't heard anything about no grimm until now."

"I think they're keeping it covered up so people don't panic," Rainbow said.

Applejack huffed. "Panic, panic, panic; you know, sometimes, Ah wish that the high and mighty would stop trying to keep everyone calm by lyin' to 'em and start trustin' folks to be responsible with the truth! 'Don't wanna cause a panic!' You know, one of these days, what'll cause a real panic around here is once people work out that they're being lied to all the live-long day like little kids bein' told about the Great Seedlin'! It's enough to make a girl believe in conspiracy theories."

Twilight chuckled. "Enough for someone who doesn't have her feet on the ground the way that you do, maybe."

"Hey, Twilight!" Applejack called. "So you're here too, huh?"

"And Blake," Rainbow said.

"Good morning," Blake said, her voice rising a little bit. "I hope that we didn't wake you up."

"Nah, you're all good, sugarcube," Applejack said. "And I appreciate you lettin' me know. Are you sure it's gonna be safe up on that Amity Arena?"

"Applejack, believe me, if I thought that it would be safer for you to shelter in place, then I would tell you to do just that," Rainbow said, "but Blake has pointed out — and she's putting her own mother on the line to prove it — that you'll be safer in the Colosseum than you will be down in Vale."

"Is that right, Blake?" Applejack asked.

"Yes," Blake said as Rainbow turned in place, lifting her scroll upwards so that Applejack could see Blake and Twilight as well as Rainbow Dash herself. "General Ironwood is increasing security in the arena itself and at Beacon against the risk, including two cruisers in close proximity, and I'll be in Cadance's box with you and everyone else and Shining Armor, and probably Sun and Ciel as well. And … if there is an attack on Vale, and things get chaotic, then with all of the anti-Atlas and anti-faunus sentiment going around in the city, things could get ugly in the chaos."

Applejack scratched her head, running her fingers through her straw-coloured hair. "Yeah, I guess you got some good points about that. What about you, Twilight, what are you doin'?"

"I'll be in the box with Cadance," Twilight said. "And you, hopefully."

"Well, if you're gonna be there, Ah guess Ah can't stay away, can Ah?" Applejack said. "But what you're sayin' is that the arena is safe, but you want to bring mah gun anyway?"

"What I'm saying," Rainbow replied, "is that the Amity Arena might be the safest place in Vale … but that if you bring your gun with you today, it will be that extra little bit even safer."
 
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