SAPR: Volume 3 (RWBY/MLP)

[ScipioSmith]

Penny Drops

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Starlight was grateful that she hadn't been stabbed in the back yet in the course of this fight.

She hated it.

Not that she wanted to be stabbed in the back, obviously, but she hated — she absolutely hated — the fact that she was grateful.

She blamed the General.

Starlight was — or liked to think she was — a more realistic sort of person than some of her friends and fellow students. She didn't put General Ironwood up on a pedestal — certainly not anymore — and she didn't wholly believe in all that 'rah rah, we're Atlesians, sorority of sisters' stuff that Trixie or Rainbow could make sound so grand and that had possessed so much dazzling allure for Blake that she was prepared to chase it all the way to the frozen north. Starlight knew better. Starlight, in her own opinion, saw the world more how it was, with all the shades of grey. Not everyone could be trusted, even if they wore an Atlas uniform, and sometimes, General Ironwood would call you into a secret meeting and tell you that you had to hang around a dying woman for the foreseeable future so that she could pass on her secret magic powers to you and then you could spend the rest of your life keeping them every bit as secret.

A lot of shades of grey, and some of them could get pretty dark.

But you could go too far with an attitude like that; it was one thing to acknowledge shades of grey in the world and another to go all in on cynicism. Just because not everyone could be trusted was no reason not to trust anyone; in fact, the very fact that some people were not to be trusted made it even more imperative to find people you could trust and cling onto them tightly. Otherwise, if you prided yourself on trusting no one, you were liable to end up trusting precisely the wrong person at precisely the wrong time.

And top of the list of people you should trust — or ought to be able to trust — were your teammates. If you couldn't trust them — if you couldn't rely on them — then you really were screwed.

Starlight trusted Trixie with her life; she trusted Sunburst absolutely — the difference between with her life and absolutely being largely a value judgement on Trixie and Sunburst's relative competence — and Tempest … even if Starlight had never liked Tempest — and it was fair to admit that she hadn't — she'd never actually distrusted her. Tempest was spiky sometimes, snide often, unpleasant to be around frequently, but Starlight had never doubted that she was on their side. She was unlikeable, but she knew what she was doing, and Starlight had never been afraid to fight by her side.

Until now. It was all General Ironwood's fault, coming around with his insinuations, his unverified intelligence that suggested that Tempest might — might, mark you, not was, but might — be working against them. No proof, or at least no proof that he could share with Starlight or Trixie, just instructions to keep an eye on her.

That had gone out of the window now, for obvious reasons, and now, Starlight was fighting side by side with Tempest, and her back itched in the process, and she was grateful for every moment that Tempest didn't attack her instead of the grimm.

She hated it. She wanted to be able to focus squarely and solely on the enemy in front of her, not have to worry about the possible enemy beside her all the time.

Tempest wasn't actually right behind her at this moment; Starlight was the only one of Team TTSS presently holding the line; Trixie had had an idea to even the odds a bit and had taken Sunburst off to help her carry it out, while Tempest had gotten tired of not being able to act until the grimm came closer; maybe someone should have gone with her as well, but with Trixie having taken Sunburst away, Starlight couldn't exactly go anywhere because, as stated, she was the only one left holding the line.

There were other huntsman teams still in or around Beacon — Starlight could hear some of them fighting back in other areas — but right now, right here, in this particular part of the fairgrounds, it was only Team TTSS, which meant that it was only Starlight for the moment.

She was crouched in one of the fairground stalls, behind the counter, where the guy actually running the stall would have stood before they ran off in fear of the grimm; there was a wall full of plushies behind her, grinning down at Starlight with big googly eyes while her knees bumped against plastic boxes full of tennis balls.

The grimm advanced in a mass, a black mass enlivened by blotches of white where you could see their faces, white with touches of red, be it gleaming eyes or marks like paint. It was weird how some grimm looked like they put on warpaint.

Perhaps they did put on warpaint; even the Grimm Studies teachers didn't know a lot about what grimm got up to in their spare time. Perhaps they all sat around painting their skulls in preparation for the big fight.

Then I'd best give them the fight they were preparing for.

Starlight gritted her teeth as she fired Equaliser into the advancing grimm; the blue beams seemed to be disappearing into the black mass, swallowed up by the sheer numbers of the advancing grimm. Seemed, not were; Starlight aimed for the heads, for the white masks with the red eyes and markings, and she could see the masks shatter, see the heads disappear, see the grimm fall, even if they were so swiftly subsumed within the advance that, if she didn't trust her own eyes, she might not have believed they fell.

But they indeed fell. She was thinning the ranks.

Just not quite fast enough all by herself. Sometimes, it took two, three, maybe even five shots from Equaliser to kill a single big ursa or alpha beowolf; yes, the weaker creatures, the creeps or the juveniles, she could get in one, but there were just so many.

So many of them and only one of her.

Come on, Trixie, where are you?

At this rate, she might have to fall back. She didn't want to do that; they'd already fallen back once, having intended to hold the grimm beyond the edge of the fairground; the numbers of the enemy — and the fact that they were kind of on their own out here — had forced TTSS to fall back into the fairgrounds itself, giving up the burger van, the Bat the Rat, and the Bucket Toss; if Starlight had to fall back again, the grimm would be on top of the carousel.

It all might seem trivial stuff, but every step that they retreated reduced the amount of safe space for the civilians.

But Starlight might have to do it, because if those grimm kept on coming like they were coming now, then the alternative … well, she didn't want to die for some kind of bucket toss and a lot of smiling plushies.

She glanced sideways as Tempest returned, carrying a rifle with a pipe attached to it, a pipe that led to some kind of canister which Tempest dumped on the floor.

"What's that?" Starlight asked, as she kept shooting.

"A rifle," Tempest replied, stating the obvious. As she loaded it, she said, "I got tired of having to wait for the grimm to get close, especially since you and Trixie don't like letting the grimm get close."

"Forgive us for preferring to keep the grimm at a range where they can't hit back," Starlight muttered. "Did you get that from a fairground game?"

"I doubt the grimm care what they get shot with," Tempest declared, as she loaded a magazine into the rifle. She raised the gun — it had a wooden stock and a slender barrel extending out past said stock — and fired. "Sights are off, though."

"I wonder why that might be?" Starlight muttered.

Tempest didn't reply; she just scowled a little bit — not unusual for Tempest — and then fired again. This time, she hit something; a beowolf yelped in pain and collapsed on the ground, not dead but clutching at its chest.

"You grasped it quickly," Starlight observed.

"I was aiming for the one to the left," Tempest replied.

There were times, when she was feeling agreeable, when Tempest could muster a wit that wasn't aimed at any of her teammates or their friends; Starlight wished that she could appreciate it without wondering if Tempest was putting on an act.

Don't think about that. We have bigger problems right now.

I might not think that if Tempest actually betrayed me.

Maybe not, but she hasn't yet, so worry about it when she actually does.

Trixie arrived, running up on the right hand side of the stand, carrying several big crates stacked one on top of the other, piled high in such a way that she couldn't actually see what was in front of her, and it seemed like a miracle that she didn't run right into the grimm.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my apologies for the delay to today's extrrrrrraordinary performance!" Trixie declared in her grandiose style as she put down the crates. "The unexpected circumstances forced some last minute adjustments. Sunburst, that'll do."

Sunburst had come up behind Trixie, similarly laded with the wooden crates, and if it hadn't been for Trixie's warning, he wouldn't have stopped when he did and started, like her, putting the boxes down.

"I hope it was worth it, whatever it was," Starlight said as she fired some more shots from Equaliser. The power pack was almost drained, so she quickly swapped it out, putting the old one back into a pouch at her belt, to be used again if she ran out of fresh power cells. "What was it you went looking for?"

Trixie grinned viciously as she kicked over one of the crates; an array of fireworks, large and small, painted in bright colours and decorated with shooting stars and fizzing lines like the waves of an explosion, spilled out onto the grass.

"The Grrrrreat and Powerrrrrrful Trrrrrrixie thought that this situation called for some artillery support!" Trixie proclaimed. "After all, it's not as though there's going to be a show tonight."

"That's true," Sunburst said as he upended more of the crates so that their fireworks spilled out onto the grass. "But will this actually work?"

"I don't see why not; they're filled with dust," Trixie said. She flourished her wand as the chill breeze made her cape flutter behind her, the moonlight dancing upon the stars. "And if it doesn't, we'll get a light show out of it. Stand back, Sunburst! Don't try this at home, children!"

"Who's she talking to?" muttered Tempest.

Nobody replied as Trixie pointed her wand down at the first crate. There were warnings about the flammable contents and to keep away from flames.

Fire leapt from the tip of Trixie's wand; the flames caught the wooden crate and began to devour it; the fire spread as she Trixie flourished her wand sideways; soon, all the boxes were aflame, even as Trixie retreated from them.

Starlight and Tempest kept shooting as the grimm advanced, heedless of what Trixie had just done — or were they? Starlight could see some of the larger grimm, the ursai major and the alpha beowolves, beginning to retreat, or at least to stand still and let the younger, more numerous, less experienced grimm pass around them and take their places in the front line. Did they know? Did they recognise what a firework was?

But if they knew, then why not save their followers instead of letting them press on like this?

You could get a headache trying to understand why the grimm behaved the way they did, at least when they were doing anything more complicated than trying to kill someone.

Anyway, the grimm — some of the grimm, a lot of grimm — kept coming, and Starlight kept firing, Tempest too.

The flames consumed the wooden crates and their warnings. Starlight could hear spitting sounds from the fireworks within.

"Fire in the hole!" Trixie yelled.

The fireworks erupted out of the burning crates, showering sparks of blue, green, white, yellow — the colours of the four academies the most prominent amongst the set — in a host of hues and shades, along with lesser-seen examples of a riot of other colours too; they all leapt out of the burning boxes, sparks flying out behind them. They moved erratically, some of them flying upwards into the air, corkscrewing wildly over the heads of the grimm to hit nevermores in the skies above or just to explode with loud bangs and showers of colourful sparks that lit up the night sky; most of them didn't miss like that, some rose a little off the ground but not so high, others flew along the ground itself like startled snakes, turning this way and that even as they moved forwards. Their sparks singed the grass or even lit it on fire, trails of flame following in the wake of the fireworks even as the fire that Trixie had set began to spread out too.

The grimm were so numerous that they could hardly miss.

Most of them didn't.

The fireworks flew swiftly into the midst of the great mass of grimm, causing yelps and howls of pain as the sparks flew, making beowolves flail with their paws as low-flying fireworks slammed into them, and then they exploded. They exploded in so many colours, with so many sparks of light erupting out of every firework that it was blinding. Starlight couldn't see the grimm before them, she couldn't hear them roar or growl or bellow in their rage, she couldn't hear anything but the banging of so many fireworks exploding, couldn't see anything but the field of explosions flowering in front of her. She had to shut her eyes against the brightness and the colours, and even when she did so, the many hues danced in the darkness before her eyes, the echoes of the explosions shifting first this way and then that.

The explosions continued to sound in her ears, sometimes fading a little but then returning again with renewed volume and intensity; the fireworks must have come with a variety of different fuse lengths, cut to get the fireworks going off at different points in the sky; now, it sounded as though they were going off at different points amongst the grimm; sometimes, Starlight could hear them when the fireworks themselves became less loud — bellowing, mewling in pain, pounding feet like a stampede — but then the fireworks rose in sound to a new crescendo and drowned them out again.

It sounded, when she could hear them, like the grimm were panicking; they had swarmed forward expecting a victory against a token force arrayed against them, first one huntress, then three and one huntsman, then they had been assailed by such a sudden force out of nowhere; doubtless, the young grimm could not comprehend it; they would have never seen anything like it before.

The sound of the fireworks dropped; Starlight opened her eyes to see that the field of sparkling flowers had ceased to bloom, although a layer of smoke had settled over the battlefield, drifting listlessly over smouldering grass and the ash-shedding remains of fallen grimm.

Sunburst carried a long staff, taller than he was at its maximum length, and he set an ice dust crystal into the head of the staff and waved it in front of him. A small wave of ice emerged out of the staff to quell the flames that Trixie had begun, covering the remains of the burnt out boxes and the grass in a layer of sparkling ice.

The colours drifted across Starlight's vision like the smoke, both serving to slightly obscure what was before her blue eyes. But they could not conceal the fact that the grimm were thinned out in numbers, the great black mass that had borne down on Starlight diminished. Some grimm, not quite dead, lay on the grass amongst their smoking fellows, moaning and mewling; they were missing limbs or else had chunks taken out of them.

Others hung back, standing still or even starting to shuffle backwards, glaring at Team TTSS warily.

Starlight despatched each wounded grimm with singular well-aimed shots of Equaliser. Still, the grimm continued to hold, or slowly back away, staring at the Atlesian team from across the battlefield.

If they had had reinforcements, if the numbers on their side had been greater, if they had even been sure that backup was coming soon though it was not there yet, then now, Starlight was sure, would have been the moment for a counterattack. Now would have been the moment when Trixie could — and would, no doubt — have stepped forward, flourishing her wand in the air above her head, and called for a charge. Dazed as they were by the effects of the fireworks, confused, injured, the morale of the grimm would not have stood before it, and the older, wiser grimm would have broken and fled, leaving the younger and less experienced to be cut down.

If, if, if. If they had had the numbers for it, or the numbers on their way that they could trust to hurl themselves into the battle on their behalf, but they didn't. There were no reinforcements coming — at least, not that they knew of — and with just the four of them, they might make the grimm recoil temporarily, but they would soon recover their courage along with the knowledge of their numerical advantage, and Team TTSS would be surrounded and destroyed.

As it was, Starlight thought that what was mainly holding the grimm back was the worry they might have more fireworks.

And the moment they figure out we don't…

The grimm began to growl. It was low at first, a rumble like far-off thunder, but the thunder got closer, closer and closer to TTSS until all the grimm were roaring.

And then they were surging forwards once again.

Starlight leapt over the counter of the bucket toss. "Fall back?" she asked as she raised Equaliser to her shoulder and resumed firing.

"Not yet," Trixie replied, her voice calm as she took two steps forward. Her cape fluttered behind her as she thrust out her wand and a jet of fire burst from the tip, expanding outwards into a cone, a mouth that devoured a chunk of the onrushing grimm.

Tempest fired her fairground air rifle again, then threw it down in frustration. "Sunburst!" she snapped. "Give me something."

Sunburst planted his staff in the ground and reached behind him for the book — an old-fashioned looking, leather bound book, the sort of heavy tome one expected to see as a prop in a movie about sealed tombs and ancient curses — that he carried strapped to his back under his star-and-moon cape. He opened the tome, holding it in one hand and flicking through the pages with the other. "Rapid fire or penetration?"

"Do you have anything with both?" Tempest asked.

Sunburst pushed his spectacles back up his nose. "I think I might, yeah. Just a second." He held his hand out over the back, fingers spread out, as the pages began to flicker and dance as though the wind were so much stronger than was actually the case. The book began to glow with a golden light, the same soft gold as Sunburst's aura shining out of the book to light up Sunburst's lean, whey face.

He thrust his hand out in Tempest's direction. "Tempest! Catch!" he cried as what looked like a boxy, chunky handbag formed out of golden light and flew through the air in her direction.

Sunburst's semblance, Analytica, enabled him to understand a weapon just by looking at it — just once, just seeing it in operation, and he got it; everything snapped into place in his mind. Starlight thought that once his semblance evolved, he would be able to do the same thing to other semblances too, but he wasn't quite there yet. His book, Tome of Knowledge, contained page after page of schematics from which he could summon constructs — none of which he could use himself. It was the weakness of his semblance; for all its versatility, it was of no use to him personally whatsoever; all his understanding could only benefit others.

Like Tempest, as she followed Starlight over the stall counter and grabbed the handbag with one hand. She placed her other hand upon it as the handbag started to transform in her hand, folding and unfolding and expanding in her grasp into a rotary cannon.

Right, that's the leader of Team CFVY's weapon, isn't it?

Tempest grinned. "Oh, yes, come to mama." She was still grinning like a maniac as she levelled the rotary cannon in the direction of the grimm and opened fire.

Magenta 'bullets' — Sunburst's aura created the weapon, but Tempest had to pitch into it also — spat from the cannon as the barrels rotated rapidly, spitting a storm of fire towards the grimm. The grimm wilted before the storm, mowed down by it, beowolves tumbling, ursai only lasting a few moments longer before they, too, were cut down.

Tempest had a wild look on her face, her opal eyes gleaming as she began to advance, turning from the waist this way and that to spread her fire in a wide arc. "That's right, come and get it," she growled as she bore down on the grimm, firing as she went. "Come on!"

"Tempest, what are you doing?" Trixie demanded. "Get back here!"

Tempest ignored her; she just kept on walking towards the grimm, the golden light of Sunburst's aura dancing in her eyes as she swept deadly fire across the front ranks of the grimm. "That's it, come and get some! And some for you as well, plenty for everyone!"

"Tempest, stand fast!" Trixie shouted.

Tempest took no notice. She kept on walking, heedless of the way that the grimm were moving in from the flanks to surround her.

Starlight started to advance as well, and Trixie too; Starlight fired as she moved forward, bolts flying from Equaliser's barrel; Trixie's cape billowed out behind her as she ran forwards.

Tempest had stopped moving by now, and it was the grimm who were moving, closing in all around her as she fired, heedless, still wearing that manic look as though she were in no danger whatsoever.

Trixie pointed her wand towards the grimm, and more fire spilled out from the tip; Starlight switched Equaliser from rifle into polearm mode as she charged forward, if she could only reach Tempest, then she could drag her out and to safety—

The grimm closed the net. Tempest disappeared from Starlight's view, but Starlight could still hear her laughing wildly, consumed with battle madness.

Starlight's own eyes were wide as she hurled herself against the grimm, Equaliser whirling in her hands as she slashed at them, cutting through beowolves, hacking off the heads of ursai. But the grimm kept coming; where they had advanced in a mass, now they closed in on a point, intent on bringing Tempest down and blocking off all attempts to reach her.

Tempest's wild exultations turned to screams of pain.

"Tempest!" Starlight cried. No, no, they couldn't lose her, this could not be it, this could not be how she died: mistrusted by her teammates, suspected of treachery, thought ill of by those who should have trusted her. This … this couldn't be it. This couldn't be how Tempest died. This couldn't be how Team TTSS lost someone.

Tears pricked at the corners of Starlight's eyes as she hurled herself against the grimm, hacking and slashing, cutting wildly, desperate to get through them. The grimm were moving to surround her now, but Starlight didn't care. Tempest was in front of her; if she could just get to her, then—

"Starlight!" Trixie yelled, grabbing Starlight by the collar and hauling her back. "Starlight, get back!"

Trixie was casting fire in both directions, fending the grimm off with her flames as she tried to pull Starlight away, but the flames were flickering; she was running out of dust in the cartridge. "Starlight, come on!" she yelled. "If we don't fall back, we'll be cut off!"

"We can't just leave her!" Starlight yelled, straining against Trixie's grip.

"Starlight, it's too late, she's gone!" Trixie bellowed into Starlight's ears. "She's gone, but I am not losing you too; now, do as I say and FALL. BACK!"

Starlight obeyed, the instincts of obedience kicking in, the same instincts that Tempest had ignored. She and Trixie both stumbled backwards, away from the grimm who remained arrayed as though they were surrounding Tempest, although Starlight…

Starlight couldn't hear her anymore.

Damn you, General.

Trixie's hand shook a little as she tried to reload her wand. She dropped a dust cartridge down on the floor at her feet and fumbled for another. "We'll … retreat to the carousel," she said, gulping. "And use the roof as high ground. I'll be the rearguard."

Starlight blinked. Her eyes stung. "Trix—"

"I'll do it!" Trixie declared, her voice fierce despite — or maybe because — of the way it trembled. She pointed her wand towards the grimm. "Go on, I'll follow."

The grimm turned towards them, and in a mass, as though they were one mind, they started towards them — but then were checked; their advance ceased, and many grimm turned their faces southwards as cries of pain and despair rose up from that direction.

Grimm cries, not human ones. The grimm were crying out as something, some great force cut through them, throwing their ranks into disarray.

Not something, someone: a girl with a scarred face, with one eye seeming to burn through use of dust, a girl that Starlight had often seen lately in the company of Team SAPR, and sometimes of Team RSPT as well.

Amber. Her name is Amber.

XxXxX​

"I didn't want this," Amber whispered as she stared up at the nevermores wheeling and darting through the night sky above, blocking out the clouds, fleeting across the moon, darting down with talons outstretched to pluck people up from Beacon below like … like worms at the mercy of the magpies in the garden.

She hadn't wanted this.

Dove was stood a little in front of her, sword half-drawn, steel showing from the scabbard at his hip. Bon Bon had one hand on Amber's arm — Amber didn't like the feeling; her grip was too sharp and too insistent — while Lyra stood just a little behind.

Dove didn't say anything to her; he had no words of comfort to offer. It pierced Amber more surely than his half-drawn sword would do, as much as the shrieking of the nevermores above and the growling of the beowolves and the ursai on the ground did.

She had … she had let him down. He was upset with her; he had been ever since she had suggested … since she had tried to… she had let him down over the way that she had treated Ruby. He was upset with her, and he had a right to be upset. She had behaved … she had not been worthy of herself, and certainly, she had not been worthy of him.

This was … when the grimm had started to attack that great floating arena up in the sky, when Lyra had come back — with Bon Bon only a step behind — to tell her that the flying arena was under attack; when she and Dove had looked out of the window to see the fire from the Atlesians floating warships trying to destroy the grimm, Amber had not liked it. She hadn't liked to think of Pyrrha and Jaune, or Penny, or sweet Ciel who knew so much about makeup, in danger so very high up in the sky, their very footing in danger of being ripped out from under them by flying monsters. She hadn't liked it, but she had salved her conscience by telling herself that they were brave and bold and far from helpless; she had told herself that these Atlesians, these northmen, were much vaunted — by themselves, to be sure, but by others too — and that should mean they could defend the flying arena, shouldn't it?

She had told herself that a distraction had been necessary, that something like this to distract Ozpin's eyes and keep her friends — her friends who, unfortunately, were also her gaolers and would choose their task as gaolers over their friendship with her the moment they learned of her intent — occupied while she escaped.

She had told herself all of this — told herself silently, because Lyra knew nothing of this, and Amber, for one, was in no hurry to enlighten her — and hoped that they would all come through it alright, even while she feared that Dove's misgivings were stronger and working harder on his spirit.

As they had looked out of the window, as Lyra had wondered what could be causing this sudden grimm assault, Amber had watched Dove's face twitch once or twice, seen a scowl flit across his face, as though he were struggling to hide his distaste.

She was trespassing upon the boundaries of his affection. She was reaching the limits beyond which he would not be Dove Bronzewing, good Dove, her Dove, and by reaching those limits … he might not be her Dove much longer.

They could not get out with a distraction, but Amber understood why that was cold comfort; the dish sat uncomfortably upon her own stomach. If Pyrrha were to perish, so beautiful, so kind, and so in love, why should Pyrrha die for Amber's sake?

If she should die, take her and cut her into little stars, and she shall make the darkness sparkle so that all the world shall be in love with night.

Why should all Remnant be in love with night that Amber may walk freely in the sun?

Why should Jaune be plunged into misery, cast into despond's darkest and most murky depths? Why should he grow his hair wild with misery and let a beard consume his face — or would he cut his hair instead, shedding the luscious, lovely locks that Pyrrha loved so well? Why should he do either of those things, so that Amber might be happy with Dove?

If she could be happy, after this. If Dove could be happy, if he could find happiness within him — or within her, more to the point.

I told myself my freedom was worth any cost, but now, the time has come to pay the bill.

That had all been bad enough, these thoughts and feelings had been bad enough before, when the battle was up above them in the sky, but now … now, there were grimm in Beacon, in the air above, on the grounds … now, the bill looked grave indeed, and the hand of the waiter tight upon her arm.

People were screaming. Some were running away, towards the docking pad, although there were no airships there; others had been trying to get into the school buildings — as Amber, Dove, Lyra, and Bon Bon had tried to get out, they had met by a crowd of people trying to get in, the doors to the dorm rooms thrown open to admit them and offer some shelter from the nevermores — but now, it seemed the grimm were getting too close to the buildings for comfort, and people were flying out again.

From where she stood in the courtyard, Amber could see to the dining hall, where they had all sat and eaten together, and she could see an immense ursa with great spikes erupting out of its back smash through the wall, opening the way for a pack of smaller grimm to swarm in behind and begin to tear up that place of memories, to smash the seats and devour the tables that had once been theirs.

Amber could hear some shooting, some battle cries, she could hear a lot of fireworks going off from the direction of the fairground, but it seemed that there weren't enough people left to defend the school. Either they were up in the sky still, or else they had gone into Vale with Professor Goodwitch, to deal with some trouble there.

They had gone and left the people here with too few protectors.

All part of the plan.

Amber felt sick.

"Amber," Lyra murmured. "Why would you say something like that? Of course you didn't want this, how…?" She trailed off.

Amber turned her head to look at her. Lyra had a frown upon her face, her brow furrowed intently.

"How," she repeated, slowly, each word stumbling out of her mouth, "could you even know that this was going to happen." She paused for a moment, and the furrow of her brow deepened yet further. "Did you know—?"

"Of course not," Bon Bon said quickly. "Of course not, Lyra, how would Amber have known that there was going to be a grimm attack?" She chuckled, or tried to; it came out as a rather strangled sound. "But I knew that—"

"You knew?" Lyra exclaimed.

"We needed a distraction!" Bon Bon hissed. "What did you think, that Professor Ozpin was just going to let us walk out?"

"But, but…" Lyra stammered. "People are dying, Bon Bon! People are scared, and … Sky wouldn't have wanted this."

Bon Bon shuddered but didn't reply to Lyra. She pulled at Amber's arm. "We have to go. Everyone's heading for the docks, straight away from the grimm, so we can head south across the face of the grimm, down the road, and into the open country behind the Green Line; we can lie low there and wait for Tempest to join us, if she can."

Dove half-turned his head, although he didn't quite look back. "What about the—?"

"Later," Bon Bon said. "We can't get it now, it's still too risky; we'll come back for it after, when things are quieter."

"Come back for what?" Lyra asked.

"Something that we need," Bon Bon replied. "Something stolen by Ozpin; Amber needs it to bargain for her freedom."

"'Bargain for her—'" Lyra repeated. "I thought we were doing this because it was right!"

"We are."

"It doesn't look or sound like it!" Lyra cried.

"Lyra, just—"

"You're right," Amber said, shaking Bon Bon's hand off her arm. She turned to face Lyra. A light breeze blew through the embattled school, grasping at the edges of Amber's forest-green cloak, making the hem dance around her legs; she planted one end of her staff, Sapphire — ironic name, now, and never seeming more inappropriate than in this moment — upon the courtyard stone as she placed her free hand on Lyra's shoulder. "You're right," she said again. "What we are … this is wrong. This should not have been done. For my freedom, I thought myself willing to pay any price, but now, I find myself recoiling from the cost." She smiled. "But we will make it right, before we go."

Dove turned around, spinning on one toe until he faced her and Lyra. "'Before we go'?"
Amber let her hand fall from Lyra's shoulder. "Will you … will you fight with me, my Dove, my knight, my Roland?"

"'Fight'?" Dove repeated. His mouth hung open. "You … you want to fight?"

Amber bowed her head a moment. "No," she confessed. "But I … though I did not ask to be made thus, I think that I must be what I was made to be, this one occasion." She reached up and stroked his face, her golden bangles bumping gently against his skin. "You have been my conscience, and my better half. Now be my sword, if you will, as I will be your rod and staff."

"You can't be serious!" Bon Bon exclaimed. "This … this is madness!"

"Since my mother died, I have been consumed with madness," Amber replied. "I have slept in madness, dwelt in madness; all the world has been consumed with madness; and the madness of the world has made me frantic, fearful, and unkind. Let this be hope's madness, then, a good heart's madness. Love's madness."

Dove let out a ragged gasp that set his whole body trembling. He closed his blue eyes as he took her hand and pressed it fiercely against his cheek as though he hoped her fingers and her palm would leave a permanent mark upon his skin. He was still clutching her hand — firmly, but not at all painfully — as he raised it to his lips and kissed her fingertips.

"I will fight," he said, his voice hoarse. "I will fight with you."

Amber closed her eyes and felt like sighing herself, for whatever happened now, whatever befell, she had restored herself into the good graces of Dove's heart, and that … she would rather die in his love than live a hundred years out of his affection.

And perhaps, when my friends discover what I have done, they will learn all that I have done and wonder that I could not be all wickedness, for I fought for the people on this night.

I was the Fall Maiden once, before I took my leave.

She walked forward, stepping around Dove and just ahead of him, letting her hand fall by her side as she looked forwards. There were grimm before her, in the dining hall and creeping around the dormitory of the Beacon students; possibly, they were inside the dorm as well, though Amber could see them not.

Having declared her intent to fight, Amber did not lack for enemies. They were before her, in all their fury, in all their howling noise, their gnashing of white teeth, in all their spikes and crimson marks upon their skulls, there they were.

Sapphire remained resting upon the ground, the wooden butt of the staff upon the stone.

The enemy lay before her, and Amber was still as the statue of the huntsman and the huntress; like them, she stood posed before snarling monsters, and she was doing as much to fight the real and living monsters.

She had never fought a battle before. She had trained for it — even before she became the Fall Maiden, she had been taught a little of fighting by her mother and Ozpin — she knew how to wield the quarterstaff in her hand, but she had never fought. Not until the day that Cinder came for her with her companions had Amber had to fight, and that battle had nearly been the death of her. Fear lay on Amber's shoulders as much as her cloak. Dread rose out of the ground and clasped its monstrous hands around her ankles and held them fast. Terror blew its breeze across Beacon and froze her solid.

And yet, in the midst of the chill wind, there was warmth. The warmth of a hand taking hers. Dove's hand closed around hers.

"Courage, Amber," he whispered to her. "Courage, for all that is to come."

He drew his sword with a resounding ring. His look was resolute, his jaw set, his handsome face suffused with courage as he cast his eyes around the battlefield. Amber kept her eyes on him, their hands clasped together, taking him in, drinking in how much more a hero he looked to her than he had ever looked before. Despite its dun brown colour, the moonlight that fell upon them seemed to make his armour shine.

Her Dove. Her knight. Her hero.

Courage, she thought. Yes, I must have courage, this once. Though I am a coward all the days of my life that are to come, tonight, I must have courage.

Music began to float into her ears from behind her. Lyra was playing her harp, her lithe, deft fingers plucking upon the tender strings, and the rising notes made Amber's heart rise with them. The heat of Dove's hand melted away the chill that froze her; dread hands unclasped her ankles, and the mantle of fear lay less heavily upon her.

She was the Fall Maiden; she had not sought to be, nor asked to be — it was an unwelcome inheritance, the most unsentimental heirloom that a mother could bestow upon a child — but she was the Fall Maiden. And tonight, she would be the Fall Maiden, that tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, she might be but Amber Bronzewing and in some humble cottage dwell in peace beside her love.

Tomorrow.

Tonight, she called upon her magic. It was not easy; it had never been easy for her, it was as though the magic could sense her nerves the way dogs could sometimes, and now, the magic felt … different than it had done before, scarred and wounded. But she was not so nervous now; a calm settled over her, and with that calm came authority over the power that had been bestowed on her whether she would or no. She was the Fall Maiden, and the magic of the Maiden — what remained — would respond to her.

The dog came, responding to authoritative command. As Amber pulled her hand away from Dove and gripped her staff tightly in both hands, a wing of fire leapt up from and around her left eye.

Another flame, a little lick of flame, burned on the tip of her staff.

Still, Lyra played her lovely harp.

Amber and Dove charged forth. They made no sound, neither of them shouted a loud war cry, they just charged towards the nearest grimm, to finish them before they could finish anyone else.

Her lessons with the staff pounded like a drumbeat in Amber's mind as she approached a group of snarling beowolves. As she closed, the first one swiped at her with a paw larger than her head; Amber slowed a little, but not completely; she slid forwards upon her armoured boots, leaning back to duck beneath the swiping stroke before she hit the beowolf with the end of Sapphire hard enough to make its head whip around. She drew back her staff and used it like a spear, thrusting the butt forward many times in quick succession, laying hit after hit upon the beowolf's unprotected chest as the howling beast recoiled before her. The sixth or seventh stroke finished it, and as its body toppled back and began to smoke, Amber whirled her staff around, letting fire rip from the tip to erupt outwards in a flaming shockwave. She spun upon her toe, cape whirling around her as she twirled, to unleash a second and even greater wave — careful not to hit Dove — to follow hard upon the first. Beowolves wilted before her flames. Amber spun her staff around before her so fast that it became a blur, gripping it in one hand before she thrust out her hand to unleash a gust of wind that sent beowolves flying backwards; when they slammed into the ground, the impact finished off what the flames had begun.

Dove had sought out the alpha of the group, the largest of the group and with the largest teeth and claws, yet when the beowolf brought one massive paw down, Dove took the blow upon his arm, bracing himself, quivering but not yielding. With his other hand, he drove his sword into the beowolf's chest all the way up to the hilt. He shot twice with the gun part of his gun sword, the bangs slightly muffled by being buried in the grimm itself.

Amber scowled as she slammed her staff into the back of the beowolf's leg hard enough to drive the grimm down to its knees on the ground. Dove twisted his sword, drew it out of the monster's chest, and with a single smooth stroke, cut off its head.

He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

They said nothing as they pushed onwards, into the dining hall. Amber set fires as she flung flames round; the fire that leapt from the tip of her staff did not just strike creeps or beowolves but the tables and benches as well, the seats where she had sat with all her friends beginning to burn, fire licking at the corners of the hall, smoke rising. But she killed the grimm. She and Dove killed the grimm together, so what did a little fire in an empty dining hall matter compared to that? She burned the grimm as they tried to rush in through the hole in the wall that the ursa had made, and then she and Dove were in amongst them; Amber lashed out with her staff, her body moving a lithely as a willow tree under a strong wind, weaving and swaying and staying out of the way of grimm paws and grimm teeth; Dove was more solid, and more stolid, enduring blows as though he felt them not — Amber would have to take more of the lead, to spare his aura — before making strong counterattacks, his sword thrusting in and out or slashing from side to side. Amber thrust with her staff in rapid blows that landed in close clusters, one after another, the way that Ozpin had taught her, or else she fought in more the fashion of her mother, clubbing grimm across the sides of their heads with her staff, driving them to the ground before hammering them upon their backs until the smoke began to rise. The tip of her staff was always aflame, the fire adding a touch to every stroke or blow, making the grimm howl just that little bit harder.

They killed the big ursa together. Dove led the way, drawing the grimm's attention, but as it raised a clawed paw, Amber loosed a little narrow jet of flame over Dove's head to strike the ursa in the eyes. The grimm recoiled, covering its bony face with one paw, flailing with the other, and as that paw flailed, Dove began to hack at it with his sword. Once, twice, three times, he hacked, his sword glimmering in the fires Amber had started, before he severed the paw and left only an ugly red stump in its place. The ursa roared as it dropped down onto its remaining three legs, presenting his spike-covered back and shoulders in place of its less well protected chest. Dove fell back a little as the ursa lunged for him, jaws open. Amber leapt over a smouldering table and assailed the ursa from its side, thrusting her staff forward in seven quick consecutive thrusts, then darting away, then stepping forth once more to swing Sapphire into the ursa's hind leg.

The ursa turned her head towards her, but as it did, Dove returned to the fray, slicing into the ursa's neck.

The ursa roared and swung its head back around to bodily slam into Dove and knock him off his feet.

Amber jammed her staff into the black of the ursa's leg and let the flames engulf the wood and rush down towards the monster.

The ursa howled, mouth opening.

Dove rammed his sword into that same mouth, until his arm was in its maw up to the elbow.

But the ursa's bite did not close around his arm; rather, the ursa remained frozen, mouth agape, before its remaining legs gave way and it slumped to the ground. Ash and smoke began to rise from its remains.

Dove climbed, only a little unsteadily, to his feet. His blade hung by his side. "You … you stand on the verge of making me feel inadequate," he murmured.

Amber smiled, but only a little, to show she meant no mockery. "I would not be here if it weren't for you," she said. "I … I would have no will nor constant heart to fight were it not for you, is that not enough?" She paused. "But … guard yourself, I pray you, for my happiness."

Dove offered her a courtly bow from the waist. "How can I refuse such a fair request?"

Together, they fought their way north from the courtyard, across the edge of the fairgrounds, coming to the aid of civilians and students — including Tempest, whom Amber might rather have let the grimm devour except that if she did that, then who knew what might happen to her and to the bargain that she had made for her security? — alike, scything their way through the grimm as they came on. And as they fought, and as Amber's eye burned with the magic that remained to her, all the remnants of the fear that bound her like chains, that clung to her like cold, shattered and melted away into nothingness.

I can kill! She thought. I can kill as well as you can, Ruby! Or Pyrrha or Sunset or any of you! I don't have to be afraid of Cinder anymore!

I'm not afraid anymore!

I'll take my freedom, and no one will stop me. Even if you come after me, Ruby, I won't yield to you. I won't let anyone stand in my way.

No one will ever bind me again.

She could fight. She could protect herself, and Dove, and anyone she chose. Let Ozpin send hunters after her if he wanted to; she'd fight them too.

She could fight if she had to, and she would if she needed to.

With Dove beside her, she could do anything.

And with Dove beside her, and with Lyra's music and destiny itself driving her on, she fought all the way across the face of the advancing grimm, across the fairgrounds, relieving the pressure for a little while and only stopping her rampage when she reached the farm.

The farm where they had all gone on that night, after everyone had taken Amber into Vale, when they had all been together and talked about … everything and nothing and what the future might hold. When she had dreamed of visiting Mistral with Team SAPR and Penny.

That future would never be now. She would never see Mistral, certainly not in the company of Pyrrha and the others, but the Beacon farm was still here, and the chickens clucked and waddled about within their pen as though nothing at all was amiss, as though the world was carrying on just as it always had, in complete ignorance of all that had occurred and all that was occurring not so far away.

The goat raised its head, baaed at the group, and then lay down again.

Of course, grimm didn't trouble animals; neither the goat nor the chickens would be in any danger from a beowolf, unless they picked a fight, and why should they do that? They were very fortunate, and they didn't even realise how lucky they were.

Amber rested the butt of her staff on the grass and leaned on Sapphire for a moment, as the fire faded from around her eye. She felt rather tired, and though she hoped that her breath and strength would return shortly, right now, she could use a moment to rest.

"Are you alright?" Dove asked solicitously.

"I will be," Amber assured him. Dove, she thought, could also use a little respite to recharge his aura, although she did not say so.

Lyra let the music die. "That was," she began, "that was incredible! I see what you mean, Bon Bon, that was amazing! That wasn't dust you were using, was it? For the fire? Or the wind? Some people might think it was, I suppose, but from where I was standing … where was the dust? It wasn't on your staff, not the way you were using it; you don't have a sleeve to hide dust up, so where was it?"

Amber took a deep breath. "There is no dust, it is as you say," she said softly. "I am … empowered. It's why Ozpin wants to keep me under his control. And why I must buy my liberty with something of great value, else my powers make me too valuable to be allowed to go quietly into peace."

Lyra bit her lip for a moment. "I see," she muttered. "But, all the same, you did the right thing here, as well as the cool thing." She paused for a moment. "What now?"

"Now, as impressive a display as that was," Tempest said as she emerged out of the darkness, "we need to go, before someone comes looking for you, or my teammates realise that I wasn't devoured by beowolves." She paused. "This was an unwise move."

"It was the right thing to do," Lyra declared.

Tempest glanced at her. "And who are you?"

"She's a friend," Amber said, taking a step forward because she wasn't afraid of Tempest anymore either. "She's my friend."

Tempest looked down at her. "I see," she said softly. "And your minder?"

"She … you don't have to worry," Amber replied.

Tempest nodded. Perhaps she thought that Ruby was dead; if she thought that, then Amber wasn't going to correct her. There was a part of her that still wished Ruby was dead, nasty girl. If she came after Amber, then Amber was prepared to fight her now, fight her and kill her, but that being the case, why not kill her now and get it over with?

Because Dove wouldn't like it. Because Dove didn't want it.

Because Dove is an honourable man, and because he likes Ruby.

But if she came for me, he would choose me over her; once more, he would; I have won him back.

"We should go," Tempest said. "Now."

"But the grimm are still coming!" Lyra protested.

"It wouldn't be much of a distraction if they weren't," Tempest replied sharply.

"People are still in danger," Lyra said. "If Amber leaves now, then what was the point?"

Tempest didn't reply; Lyra was answered instead by the sound of explosions in the sky above and the whine of airship engines. Faces and eyes were turned towards the heavens, to where airships, the fat and bulbous-looking Atlesian transports, were descending from the Amity Arena, escorted by the smaller, blockier Atlesian fighters. Both kinds of airship were firing at the grimm as they descended, with guns and lasers and missiles fired from the noses of the transports.

"Reinforcements," Tempest muttered. "They must be bringing the students down from Amity to join the battle." She returned her attention to Amber. "Now do you see? You can skip away with a clear conscience knowing that Rainbow Dash and all the rest are coming with enough warm bodies to hold off the grimm and make sure none of the ungrateful populace gets hurt — they'll all be around to sneer at the wounded and turn their backs on them tomorrow morning, I guarantee it — or you can stay and see what happens when Pyrrha Nikos and the rest catch up with you."

She made a very good point. Several good points, actually. If she left now, she would hardly be leaving people in the lurch; everyone was coming down from the Colosseum, and protecting people was what they were trained for. More importantly, it was what they wanted to do; Amber had never wanted any part of this, but everyone else had chosen to come to this school. So why shouldn't she put down the burden for them to take up? Taking it up was their dream and goal, while to her, it was nothing but a burden.

And if she did not go, well, they would doubtless be looking for her.

Best to slip away quietly, if she could.

"Alright," she said, "let's go." To Dove and Lyra she added, "It will be alright now, I'm certain. Now that Pyrrha and Penny and the rest are coming, these people have nothing to worry about."

XxXxX​

"I think we might be getting everyone out of here soon," Rainbow observed. "Most of the grimm seem to have been taken care of."

Blake, standing beside her on the docking platform, nodded. "Makes you wonder what the point was."

Rainbow frowned a little. "To kill us all?" she suggested. "To provide cover for the Valish ship to try and sucker punch us? Both?"

"Perhaps," Blake murmured. She glanced behind her. Civilians were few and far between on the Promenade now, with most of them having retreated down into the interior corridors, but it was as though Blake could see them in her mind's eye, waiting in the corridors and the break rooms. "Although, where are people going to go? Can they really go back to Vale?"

Rainbow didn't reply straight away; they'd heard the news from Vale while they waited up here: grimm cultists, martial law, it sounded as though the city was kind of in chaos. It sounded as though their problems with the Valish Defence Force weren't over just because their destroyer and fighters had been taken out.

It didn't sound like the kind of place you could just drop civilians into and say 'well, best of luck!'

"I'm sure," she began, "that the General has a plan to deal with this. I mean," — she lowered her voice, just in case — "it's not like he didn't know this might be coming, right? I'm sure there's a plan to retake Vale and make the city safe. And in the meantime, people can wait at Beacon. It's probably more comfortable than getting stuck up here." She ventured a smile. "They can all get dinner at Benni Haven's while they wait."

Blake's eyebrows rose. "That's a lot of dinners."

"Well, it is their busiest time of the year, right?" Rainbow replied.

Whether Blake might have had a response to that or not, she got no chance to give it as Twilight's voice floated out over the intercom. "Rainbow Dash to the information desk, Rainbow Dash to the information desk, thank you."

Rainbow glanced at Blake. She started towards the desk, with Blake silently falling in behind her as they strode across the Promenade. Weiss, standing with Team WWSR not far away, followed them with her eyes for a moment, before she began to follow them with her feet also, leading her team in their footsteps.

There seemed to be fewer children around the information desk, but Pinkie still had a few children to entertain. She had a rubber chicken out as Rainbow and the others walked by. It flopped about by the neck in her grasp as she waved at Rainbow and Blake.

Rainbow waved back as she walked to the desk. She leaned on it, looking down at Twilight and Fluttershy. "Hey, is everything okay?"

"It's the General," Twilight said softly, holding up her scroll.

Rainbow took it, then put it down on top of the desk. She was conscious of Blake silently leaning in towards her, their shoulders touching.

"Sir?"

"Dash," General Ironwood said. "I wasn't sure if this would be a bad time."

"The fighters have done most of the work for us, sir," Rainbow replied. "Blake is here too."

"Sir."

"Belladonna," General Ironwood said. "I don't know how much you're aware of, but Vale is in chaos right now. There are blackouts, reports of fights between police and grimm cultists all over the city, and General Blackthorn threatening to shoot people on the streets. To make matters worse, Beacon has just come under attack."

"Beacon!" Blake exclaimed. "How?"

"Grimm are scaling the cliffs in conjunction with assault from the air," General Ironwood explained. "The remaining students on the ground are attempting to mount a defence, but a number of them had already been sent into Vale to assist in restoring order to the city; Professor Goodwitch was with them."

"Understood, sir," Rainbow muttered. It was starting to become clear now: hit Amity to try and take out a lot of huntsmen and huntresses, stir up trouble in Vale to pull huntsmen away from Beacon, then hit Beacon last of all. It was why it had been done this way, one step at a time.

It still wasn't good for them that their attack on Amity had failed, that … that was looking like their saving grace, that the enemy had so drastically underestimated Atlesian airpower.

Because the number of huntsmen they had managed to pull away to Vale could now be replaced by a mighty fist dropping out of the sky.

"Sir," she said, "there are a lot of us here, and—"

"I'm ahead of you, Dash; I need you to take as many of the students as are prepared to fight down to Beacon to reinforce the school. Leave a small group to hold the arena. Our primary objective is to safeguard the evacuation of civilians up from Beacon to Amity Arena."

Rainbow's eyebrows rose. "Did you just say 'up to Amity Arena,' sir?"

"I did, Dash," General Ironwood said. "Beacon isn't safe for them, and Vale certainly isn't safe, but with the skies cleared, Amity is safe, and we should be able to keep it that way for the duration of this battle. So that's what we're going to do: keep the civilians up on the Colosseum until the battle is done and they can be removed, hopefully to Vale."

"A lifeboat, sir," Dash murmured.

"Exactly," General Ironwood replied.

"That might not be popular," Blake pointed out. "And what about food?"

"I'm afraid they'll just have to manage with what's available on the arena," General Ironwood said. "Perhaps, once Beacon has been secured, some food can be brought up to them from there, but it's not our priority."

"But once Beacon—" Blake began.

"Even after it's been secured, there's no guarantee that it won't come under attack again," General Ironwood pointed out. "Everyone will be safest up in the sky."

"Yes, sir," Blake said softly. "Understood."

"What about Lady Belladonna, sir?" asked Rainbow. "What about Councillor Cadenza?"

There was a moment's pause from the General before he replied. "Leave them on Amity as well," he said. "They'll be safer there than aboard the Valiant if I have to take her into battle. I'm sure the Councillor will understand. Belladonna, try and impress on your mother—"

"I'm sure that Mom won't have a problem with it," Blake assured him. "She probably would have hated the idea of getting special treatment."

"Sir," Rainbow said. "What's the status of Ruby and Amber?"

"Unknown. I'm afraid that I haven't had the chance to check up on your friends, Dash," General Ironwood replied, a little testiness creeping into his voice.

Rainbow winced. Of course, General Ironwood wasn't alone on the bridge; all the officers could hear him, and they didn't know why Amber was so important. It had been a mistake for her to ask.

But the General's answer had told her something important, even if it did make her look self-centred: they hadn't heard from Ruby or Amber. That was good to know.

She didn't ask about Team TTSS; she could only imagine that they were in the thick of things right now. Rainbow hoped that Trixie and Starlight remembered to watch their back around Tempest, as awful as it was to think that way about a fellow Atlesian.

"Sorry, sir," she said. "What about air support?"

"I've ordered a Skybolt squadron to commence strafing the cliffs and cut off the grimm reinforcements," General Ironwood replied. "But close air support is out while there are still civilians in the zone."

"Understood, sir," Rainbow said. "Can I recommend drop sites?"

"Go on."

"The skydocks, the courtyard, and the fairgrounds, sir," Rainbow said. "Three zones, in more or less equal strength."

There was a moment of pause before the General said, "Vey well. The pilots will be instructed to take their lead from you."

"Thank you, sir!" Rainbow exclaimed. "We'll get it done; you can rely on us."

"I know I can," General Ironwood said. "Watch each other's backs out there."

"Always, sir," Blake replied.

"Then go to it," General Ironwood commanded. "The airships will be there shortly. Ironwood out."

Twilight's scroll went dark.

Rainbow breathed out as she nudged the scroll back in Twilight's direction. "Thanks, Twi."

"Anytime," Twilight said. She almost smiled. "Check you out, getting to order the pilots around."

"Yeah, well…" Rainbow muttered. She pushed herself off the desk. "I mean … under the circumstances—"

"Finding a little thing to take pride in can't hurt," Blake pointed out. "Congratulations."

"…thanks," Rainbow said and allowed herself a second to grin and take a degree of pride in the fact that she was being given this opportunity.

That she was trusted for this. It was responsibility, sure, but it was also an honour.

She allowed herself a second, at most, before the smile faded from her face. "Right, time to break the news. Twilight, can I have the microphone?"

"How do you think people will take it?" Twilight asked.

"Not great," Rainbow said. "But as long as they don't panic so much that they draw another wave of grimm, I think we should be okay." She paused. "I mean, are you gonna be okay? Staying up here, I mean?"

"Where all the grimm aren't?" Twilight asked. "Yeah, I think I'll manage."

"Fluttershy?" Rainbow asked, looking in her direction.

"I don't think that there's a lot of choice, is there?" Fluttershy asked. "Which means the real choice is whether to make the best of it or not, which is always the right choice to make."

"Are you really coming up with these spontaneously or do you write them down in advance?" Rainbow asked teasingly. She shook her head, marshalling her words. "Okay, Twi, put me on."

Twilight nodded. The fact that she didn't say anything was a sign that the next words would be broadcast all over the arena.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Rainbow said, and sure enough her words emerged out of the intercom all over the promenade, all over the arena. "Huntsmen and huntresses. You'll all be glad to hear that, thanks to our Atlesian pilots, the grimm — and any other dangers — have been driven away from the Amity Arena. The sky around Amity is clear."

Since that was the good news, she paused for a second to let it sink in. She could hear a cheer going up from somewhere around the Promenade.

"Unfortunately," she went on, raising her voice a little bit to be heard in case anyone else was celebrating, "for those of you who haven't had your eyes glued to your scroll, it is my duty to inform you that while we've been up here, both Beacon and Vale have come under assault. Grimm have scaled the cliffs and gained the grounds of Beacon as well as the skies over the school, while in Vale, the situation is very confused: power stations are under attack, and the military has declared martial law. In light of this, General Ironwood believes that it is impossible to move you anywhere safer than you are now, and so I have to ask for you all to remain calm and stay where you are for now. I know that that isn't the news that you wanted to hear, and I know that I said that you'd be getting out of here, but that was when I assumed that Beacon would be a safe destination, and then Vale after that. Things have changed. Things have changed so much that we're actually going to be moving people from Beacon up here where it's safer, so although the Promenade is now safe to come out, can you please bear in mind that there will be other people joining you shortly?

"I really am sorry about this. On behalf of Atlas, I apologise. I'm sure that some of you are probably getting hungry, and so if anyone would like to get the hotdog stand and the coffee shop and anything else like that up and running again, I'm sure that everyone else would appreciate that a lot." She took a breath. "I'm sure that some of you are probably scared. Maybe you have friends or family down in Vale or at Beacon. All I can say to that is that there is already a party of huntsmen and huntresses on their way into Vale to assist the police, and we're going to do everything that we can for Beacon.

"This is for the huntsmen and huntresses: anyone who is willing to drop down and join the defence of Beacon, regroup in the arena, and I'll outline the mission plan and assign companies. If you aren't willing, then stay here and guard the arena and everyone on it until this battle is over.

"To everyone else: please be patient and trust us. We've won the first stage, and we're not about to stop now."

She stepped away from the microphone.

Blake put a hand on Rainbow's shoulder and nodded.

Rainbow started in the direction of the nearest tunnel that led to the arena. Blake followed, as did Weiss and the rest of Team WWSR. And other students, too, began to make their way off the promenade back towards the battlefield, most of the ones who had come down into the battlefield to fight in the first place.

Nevertheless, Rainbow Dash made it back there first, passing through the dark tunnel and into an arena that was a lot more badly damaged than it had been when she'd left it; something had blown a chunk out of the ceiling and scattered debris all around — and when Rainbow looked more closely at some of that debris, she realised that the something that had caused the explosion had been an Atlesian airship. There were claw marks in the metal floor, and dents; parts of the stands looked as though they'd been torn to shreds.

It was unfortunate that this wouldn't be a fit place for the civilians to spill once they started evacuating them from Beacon, although some of the stands looked a little less torn up than others.

People would have to make do, she supposed.

Team SAPR — three quarters of the new Team SAPR, anyway — were waiting amidst the torn up battlefield, and all three of them rushed towards Rainbow as she came in. Their eyes were wide with shock, their mouths open with concern.

"Is it true?" Penny asked. "Is Beacon under attack?"

"What's happened to Amber?" asked Pyrrha.

"Have you heard anything from Ruby?" demanded Jaune.

"Yes, no, and no," Rainbow said quickly, and in a quiet voice as more people followed her inside. "But when we get on the ground, I need you three to find Amber and make sure that she gets on an airship back here unless Professor Ozpin tells you something different, then do that." She wasn't sure if Professor Ozpin would have any special plan for Amber in this circumstance — maybe he had an airship standing by to fly her somewhere else even safer than Amity — but if he did, then he could tell Team SAPR that himself, assuming that he hadn't already just bundled her and Ruby aboard by now. If not, then if the Amity Colosseum was safe enough for everyone else, then it was probably safe enough for Amber too right now.

She didn't bother to ask if Team SAPR was coming down to join the fight; she took that as going without saying.

Penny nodded. "And then … once she's here … should we stay with her?"

Rainbow didn't reply, although it was a good question. The fact that it was a good question made it a hard one to answer: should they stay with Amber, or was the fact that she was up in the sky protection enough?

Rainbow couldn't help think that the right answer was, in fact, stay with Amber, but at the same time, that would mean Team SAPR sitting out the rest of the fight, which might be … well, it might be hard for some people to understand, to say nothing of how they might feel about it themselves.

"You'll have to use your own judgement on that one, Penny, 'cause I don't know," Rainbow said, taking the coward's way out. "Welcome to being team leader."

"Thank you," Penny murmured, not sounding very grateful.

By now, other teams were arriving in the arena, stepping lightly around the rubble and the wreckage and the flames to fill up the open space that remained: WWSR, YRN, SSSN — Sun had rejoined his teammates, presumably because Lady Belladonna didn't seem to be in much danger at the moment — ABRN, FNKI, Rarity, Ciel, Maud Pie too.

"Maud?" Rainbow asked.

"Applejack can keep an eye on everyone up here," Maud said in her usual subdued voice. She paused for a moment. "Starlight's down there, right?"

Rainbow nodded. "That's right."

"Then I'd like to help," Maud replied.

Rainbow's eyes narrowed a little. "Do you have your weapons?"

Maud raised her hands. "I have two weapons right here," she said in a voice of absolute serenity.

Rainbow snorted. "Okay then, welcome aboard."

She looked around, surveying who had come and who had not; there was still not much sign of a Shade Academy presence, outside of Team UMBR and a couple of other teams who had answered her call the first time. Rainbow still couldn't blame them too much: it wasn't their fight, and just as importantly, it wasn't their way of fighting. If the Vacuan way was to sit on this arena and wait for the whole thing to blow over, then … more power to them, she supposed. They'd all be alive come morning, and it seemed they wouldn't even think badly of themselves for it.

But it was lucky for Beacon that the other schools didn't feel the same way, and most of the students who had answered the call to defend the arena had now come back, ready to drop down into Beacon. As she looked around, the only notable absentees that Rainbow could see were Team JAMM of Haven and half of Team BALL of that same school, the latter having a very good excuse.

Although, if Team SABR had stayed behind, maybe it would have been better.

"Sabine—" Rainbow began.

Sabine put one hand upon her hip. "We're not staying here tending to cuts and bruises while a battle's raging down below, Dash," she declared flatly, in a voice that brooked no argument. "Get General Ironwood to send a medical team up here to take care of people."

Rainbow raised one hand. "Okay," she said. "Okay."

She paused for a moment. Team JAMM and the Shade students, and Applejack, and Shining Armor. That should be enough to defend Amity now, shouldn't it? To protect Cadance and Lady Belladonna and the kids.

And the airships.

Yeah. Yeah, that should be fine. I don't need to assign anyone else to defend the arena.

I don't need to leave anyone behind.

"Okay," she said for the third time, raising her voice. "Everyone, listen up. The airships are already on their way, so I'll be quick. The situation is as you already heard: grimm are attacking Beacon by air and land; they're attacking in numbers, they're advancing against limited opposition, and close air support is out until all civilians have been evacuated from the combat zone. This will not be easy.

"But just because it's difficult doesn't mean that it can't be done. Already, Atlesian Skybolts are pounding the grimm at the base of the cliffs to try and cut off their reinforcements; that will reduce the numbers that we have to deal with when we get down there, and our fighters will escort us down and take control of the skies the way they have up here. All we have to do is secure three locations: the docking pads, the courtyard, and the fairgrounds, as well as maintaining connective routes between the three. That's why we will drop in three companies: Yang, you'll lead Alpha Company to secure the docks; I'll lead Bravo Company dropping into the courtyard; and…" Rainbow paused for a second. She thought it was probably important to pick a Haven student to lead the last group — Mistralians were a touchy lot, after all, very proud, and they might take offence at having multiple Beacon or Atlas students chosen while they were passed over — but she didn't really know that many Haven students, and the one she knew best, Sun, didn't strike her as well suited to this, no offence to him. Pyrrha's friend Arslan was a celebrity, and people might follow her for that reason alone, but Rainbow wasn't sure how much of a leader she was. "Violet Valeria," she said, naming the leader of Team VLCA; it was true that Rainbow didn't know much about her, but she was a second-year, and she'd gotten her team through the four-on-four round, so she couldn't be terrible. "You'll lead Charlie Company, dropping into the fairgrounds. Each group will have two objectives: to secure the area, if necessary by pushing beyond them to deny the grimm an approach, and to make a link to the other nearest objective or objectives. So, when all objectives are met, we will have established a safe chain to pass civilians from the fairground to the courtyard to the docking pads where the airships will be waiting to take them up here to Amity.

"That's all we have to do: three locations and connective tissue. If we can do that and hold that ground, then we can get everyone evacuated, and once that's done, then our airships rain fire down on the grimm from above, and we can mop up the rest of them.

"If we do this right, if we succeed, then everyone currently down at Beacon will be gotten away safely and will take refuge here until the battle is over and order is restored to Vale. If we don't do this, then there will be a massacre.

"But I know you won't let that happen. Any questions?"

Weiss raised her hand. Rainbow might not have seen it if she hadn't been so close by. "When you say 'push forward'—?"

"What I mean is that it will be easier to secure the courtyard if we also control the surrounding buildings," Rainbow explained. "Otherwise, while we might technically hold the courtyard, grimm could jump out at us from the top windows of the dorms or something. And of course, Alpha will need to push towards the courtyard even while Bravo pushes back to the dockyards. But no one should overextend themselves, no one should go running off chasing the grimm towards the cliffs; that's not our mission. We take and hold what we need to to pass the tourists out, nothing more, not until the evacuation is complete."

"What about the other flank?" asked Umber.

"Yeah," Yang added. "What about Benni Havens'?"

"It's too far away; we don't have enough people to hold it and all the space between there and the courtyard," Rainbow replied. "Not to mention, it's the farthest point from the cliffs; the grimm probably aren't heading in that direction, and anyone there can evacuate down the road to Vale." She paused. "We can't try and reoccupy the whole school, not at once; we don't have the numbers."

Yang didn't look thrilled by that answer, but she didn't contradict Rainbow or press the argument either. Rainbow was free, then, to assign companies: she gave her own Bravo Company Team SAPR, at least nominally, while more actually giving herself Team WWSR, SABR, ABRN, and UMBR; to Yang and Alpha Company, she assigned Team FNKI and Team CFVY; to Violet and Charlie Company, she assigned Team SSSN and the remaining half of Team BALL. Overall, she weighted the numbers a little in favour of Bravo Company, which not only had to cover the courtyard and the surrounding buildings, but also push outwards towards both the docking pads and the fairgrounds, in contrast to Alpha and Charlie which both only had to push towards the courtyard. Thus, she tried to get an even split between those two companies, although she suspected that in numbers terms, Yang might end up with the short end of the stick, since both Bravo and Charlie could expect to be swelled by the huntsmen and huntresses already down at Beacon fighting the grimm, which Yang couldn't really count on. On the other hand, you could also say that she had the easiest job, since few grimm could have gotten to the docking pads yet, so it all balanced out.

"Okay," she said, when she'd assigned all of the teams. "When you mount your Skyray, just tell the pilot where you want to go, and they'll drop you off. Let's move out!"

They headed out, just as they had headed out once before, swarming through the shady tunnels and out, only this time, the Promenade wasn't completely blocked off by a squeeze of frightened people waiting for skybuses that weren't coming. Now, though there were still some forlorn and abandoned balloons floating near the ceiling, the few people who had emerged back out onto the Promenade were watching from a respectful distance as Skyrays landed on all the intact docking pads.

The doors slid open in expectation of their charges.

The various teams of huntsmen and huntresses split up, choosing Skyrays based on other teams in their company or, in some cases, getting Skyrays all to themselves. Rainbow chose one of the nearest airships, with the word 'Foehammer' painted on the nose. She was followed there by Blake, Ciel, Rarity, Maud, and Team SAPR; there would still be plenty of room.

Rainbow was the first one in, leaping up and moving briskly into the cockpit. "Hey," she said to the pilot and copilot. "I'm Rainbow Dash; thanks for the lift."

"The General says we're to take you where you want to go," the pilot, a woman of indeterminate age whose features were hidden behind her helmet and visor. "So where do you want to go, kid?"

"Beacon courtyard," Rainbow said. "As close to the statue as you can manage."

"Copy that," the pilot said. "You might want to man the guns; it could get hot on the way down."

"Understood," Rainbow said as she left the cockpit and left the pilots to it. "Blake, Ciel, man the guns," she said, as everyone else mounted up. "Everybody else, hold onto something."

She reached up and grabbed one of the loops that hung down on a rail running the length of the main compartment. Rarity, Maud, Penny, Jaune, and Pyrrha all did likewise, forming a rough line moving towards the back of the airship, while Blake and Ciel brought the twin rotary cannons down from the ceiling on their mountings and turned them to face outwards.

"Rainbow Dash," Blake said, pointing out towards the Promenade they had just left.

Rainbow looked and saw Lady Belladonna standing on the Promenade, with Cadance standing next to her and Shining Armor at his wife's side. Twilight and Applejack stood not far away, Applejack holding One in a Thousand loosely in both hands.

She touched the brim of her hat.

Rainbow grinned and gave her a quick salute with her fore and middle fingers, almost flicking it off her brow, touching the longest bang of her hair. Rarity blew them a kiss.

Lady Belladonna waved. "I love you!" she cried.

Blake smiled tightly. "I know, Mom," she said softly.

"Then perhaps you should say it louder, darling, as a suggestion," Rarity murmured.

The drone of the Skyray's engines grew louder as the airship began to lift off, forcing Blake to shout to be heard over them, but nevertheless she did shout, "I love you too!"

Lady Belladonna must have heard, for the engines were not so loud, nor Blake so quiet, but whether she heard or not, she kept on waving as the Skyray turned away from them and dipped out of sight as it began to descend on Beacon.

XxXxX​

Pyrrha held on to the ceiling strap with one hand as, with her other hand, she put her scroll away. "No answer from Amber or Dove."

"Or Ruby," Jaune added, from behind her.

"Perhaps," Penny said, "they're too busy to respond." She paused. "That's not very comforting, is it?"

Not in the circumstances, no, although Pyrrha saw no point in saying that to Penny, who seemed to have worked it out for herself; it would have seemed petty and unkind to have rubbed it in. Still keeping one hand on the ceiling strap, she turned around as best she could to look at Jaune and Penny behind her. "Might they have joined the battle, do you think? With so many people in danger, it would be Ruby's instinct."

"Ruby would want to go and fight, sure," Jaune said, looking around at Penny before looking back at Pyrrha. "But she wouldn't put Amber at risk; she knows…" He trailed off; after all, not everyone in the airship knew what Amber was or what was at stake. "She wouldn't put Amber at risk," he said again. "And Amber wouldn't want to fight, would she?"

Pyrrha thought; although Amber had demonstrated that she knew a little of fighting, it was hard to imagine her actually wishing to put that knowledge to use. She was so frightened; surely, her instinct would be to get as far away as possible.

"No," she agreed. "No, she wouldn't."

"And Ruby wouldn't leave Amber undefended," Jaune declared. "It'll be killing her not to fight, but she'll have stuck with Amber. Wherever they are, they're together."

"Alright then," Penny said. "Where shall we find them?"

Neither Jaune nor Pyrrha said anything, not for a few moments.

"Is this something I have to decide?" Penny asked. She frowned. "You deserve a team leader who knows what they're doing at a time like this."

"You're doing fine, Penny," Pyrrha assured her. "And we would help you, gladly, if … I fear there is no easy answer to the question." She paused a moment. "Professor Ozpin might be our best chance of finding out where they have gone; Ruby might have taken Amber to him when the battle started, seeking either a safe refuge or instructions as to what to do next."

"Then why aren't any of them answering their scrolls?" Jaune asked. "If they're safe, if they're in Professor Ozpin's office drinking hot cocoa waiting for all this to blow over, then why don't they pick up? Why doesn't Professor Ozpin tell us where to find them?"

"You make a good point," Pyrrha murmured. "But where, then? You yourself said that Ruby would not take Amber into battle."

"Perhaps they stayed in the dorm room," Penny suggested. "Or at least left a note to say where they were going."

"I can't imagine them sitting tight while all this happened," Jaune replied. "But I admit that I can't think where they might have gone, either. They might have taken the Vale road south then east, but again, why not answer if they went that way? Unless a battle found them, no matter how hard they tried to avoid it."

"If it did, then … then they'll be okay," Penny declared. "They're all strong in their own way; they'll be fine." She paused. "I think that we should check the dorm room first; it's closest to where we'll be landing, so it won't take long. Then, if we don't find them, or anything that tells us where they went, we'll go to the CCT and see if Professor Ozpin knows anything. And if he doesn't, then … then we'll search the whole school, and if we still don't find them, we'll search on the road towards Vale."

Pyrrha nodded. "A sound plan."

"The best we can come up with," Jaune murmured.

None of their Atlesian friends or comrades said anything; either they thought that it was none of their business, even Rainbow Dash and Blake, or else they didn't understand enough of what the three of them were discussing to comment. Or perhaps they were just naturally taciturn. Or perhaps, and perhaps most likely, they were preoccupied with their own concerns and with the battle that awaited them on the ground below.

Atlesian fighters zoomed past the open hatches on either side of the airship, and when they passed, Pyrrha could see the other Skyrays on either side of them, the small armada of airships carrying the students down from the Amity Arena to Beacon. They were quite different from the bunting-adorned skybuses in which they had ridden up this morning, but then, these were quite different circumstances, weren't they?

Below, but getting louder, Pyrrha could hear the screeching of nevermores and griffons. She could hear the rattle of machine guns, and out of the side hatches, she could see some of the other airships, lower than their own, already firing their own rotary cannons out of the side hatches, although what they were firing at, she couldn't see.

But she imagined the flying grimm just below them, bobbing and weaving through the dark sky, rising up from terrorising the poor people on the ground to intercept the reinforcements before they could land and join the battle.

An explosion beneath them made the Skyray shake, but what had made the explosion, Pyrrha could not say.

"Just a little turbulence, that's all," Rainbow said.

It was not a little turbulence that attacked the Skyray closest to them on the left-hand side; it was a nevermore that erupted up into the view from below to assail the other airship from the front, digging its claws through the windows and into the cockpit.

Blake opened fire with her rotary cannon, the barrels whirring as they spat bullets into the nevermore's black body. For a few seconds, the grimm clung on, enduring the fire, its talons jammed inside the airship, its black wings half engulfing it. Then it let go, releasing the airship and flying upwards — only to rain an almost spiteful shower of feathers down upon the Skyray from above, slamming into the fuselage and piercing the engine on the right wing. Flames began to billow out of the engine as the plane began to drop, nose downwards, heading straight for the ground.

There was another explosion, and their own airship jerked alarmingly, throwing everyone sideways — and 'thrown' would have been right if anyone had had a less than secure grip on the ceiling strap; Pyrrha's feet left the ground for a second as the Skyray tilted, legs pointed towards the open hatch and empty air beneath, and when the airship righted itself again, there wasn't anyone aboard who hadn't been knocked askew by the experience. Jaune was holding onto the strap with both hands now, as was Rainbow's friend Rarity. Blake had wide eyes and was breathing heavily.

An Atlesian fighter flew in front of them, laser blasting away at some unseen target.

Out of the right-hand hatch, Pyrrha saw a Skyray explode, the whole airship consumed by a fireball, with no sign of any survivors.

"Gods," Jaune muttered.

How many people were onboard that airship? Pyrrha thought. To what school will they fail to return? From what tower will they watch for their coming? In what kingdom will they weep for them? And how many tears?

"May the Lady speak with grace and eloquence on their behalf, that they be judged not justly, but with mercy," Ciel murmured.

There are times when I envy you your faith, Pyrrha thought. It seems so warm and comforting. My own faith has a rather cold embrace by comparison.

Perhaps I should pray to the old gods of Mistral.

But how can I, when I know that they are not, and never were?

Ciel opened fire upon a griffon that was coming close, but as soon as Ciel started to shoot at it, the grimm darted away again, and Pyrrha lost sight of it in the dark.

They were getting lower now. Out of the left-hand hatch, Pyrrha could see the Emerald Tower; she half thought to see the emerald lights obscured by grimm flitting this way and that before them, but there were none. The lights burned unobscured, as though the emerald light itself kept the monsters at bay.

Then the lights were above them, and then so far above that they were out of sight as the airship began to descend increasingly rapidly.

The points of a flurry of feathers burst in from above, penetrating the ceiling, jamming into Rainbow's knuckles as she held onto the ceiling strap. Rainbow winced but didn't let go.

"Didn't hit any vital systems," the pilot called from the cockpit. "Nobody panic; we're almost there."

The airship began to rotate as it descended, turning so that, out of the left-hand hatch, Blake's hatch, Pyrrha could see the dorm room. She could see the roof on which she had first suggested that Jaune train with her, and Team WWSR's dorm room below that. The lights were off there. The lights were off everywhere in the building as the airship descended; no lights shone out of the windows or out of the shattered holes where the windows ought to have been. An ursa stuck its head through one such hole in the wall, but Blake opened fire on it, and it disappeared, either dead or retreated.

Pyrrha hoped that Ruby, Amber, and Dove had not remained in the dorm room. But Penny was right; it made sense as a place to start their search.

"This is it," Rainbow called out as the airship dropped so low that the statue was visible in the courtyard. "Go! Go! Go!"

They leapt from the airship. Pyrrha pulled Miló and Akoúo̱ over her shoulders and into her hand and onto her arm respectively as she descended the modest drop, her knees bending as she landed. Grimm and civilians mingled in the courtyard, but Pyrrha couldn't see any other huntsmen except for those who were dropping from the airships.

She threw Akoúo̱ at the closest grimm, a beowolf menacing some poor man in a Haven Academy t-shirt, and it decapitated the creature before her shield flew back onto her waiting, outstretched arm.

Pyrrha began to run towards the dormitory building, taking the lead and expecting Jaune and Penny to follow — after all, Penny had already issued their instructions. She heard gunfire as she ran, the booming of Rainbow's shotgun, the softer snapping sound of Blake's pistol, the immense thunderous report of Ciel's rifle, but she paid little attention to it, trusting them to take care of themselves, and of the courtyard, for that matter.

She — Team SAPR — had other concerns.

More beowolves barred her way, though Pyrrha could see the green bolts of Penny's lasers flying over her shoulder to assail the group even as Pyrrha charged them. Miló was in spear mode in her hand as she thrust it deep into the first beowolf's belly; as it died, Pyrrha whirled on her toes, sash spinning around her, and as she spun, she switched her weapon from spear to sword and slashed once, twice, three times across the chest of the beowolf before her fourth stroke took its head. A third beowolf lunged at her, crouched down low, jaws open; Pyrrha swayed her whole body away, letting those open jaws close upon empty hair before she rammed Miló up to the hilt in the grimm's neck. She threw Akoúo̱ at the alpha beowolf, her shield bouncing off the grimm's bony skull and back onto her arm even as it staggered the grimm. Pyrrha rushed and then dived forward, skidding along the ground between the alpha beowolf's legs to slash at both its ankles with swift slashing strokes, one before and one behind. The grimm went down as Pyrrha rose up, slashing once at the beowolf's neck — it was too thick to cut through — as she danced gracefully around the creature, Miló transforming back to spear in her hand before she rammed it into the beowolf's open mouth. She thrust the weapon home until she felt the point strike something hard and immovable.

Miló was still in the monster's gullet as she transformed it into rifle mode and fired a single shot.

The alpha beowolf fell over, dead.

Penny killed three more beowolves by skewering them all at once upon the blades of Floating Array, while Jaune encased the body of one of them in ice dust, giving him absolute freedom to cut off its head. When another came at him, he took its swiping claws upon his shield then slew it with a strong disembowelling blow across its belly.

The air still rang with gunfire as Pyrrha resumed her course — almost her charge with the speed she was moving, sash and hair flying out behind her like banners — across the courtyard, reaching the dormitory door. She didn't know if the ordinary lock was working or if it had been disabled, but the door opened when she kicked it.

The lights were off in the hallway and on the stairs. She couldn't see a single light on anywhere.

Pyrrha paused just a moment, to give Jaune and Penny a chance to catch up with her. Then, in a less headlong rush now, more slowly and more cautiously, she began to move forward.

The stairs creaked underfoot as she climbed them, and behind her too, as Jaune and Penny made the steps groan in their turn. Glancing up, Pyrrha could see two swords of Floating Array, both folded into their laser configuration, hovering over her head like guardian spirits. As she climbed the stairs, her watching swords turned in unison first to the left and then to the right, as though they were eyes and Penny could see out of them to glance in both directions before she went any further.

On the first floor landing, Pyrrha could see that doors had broken down, walls smashed, objects spilled out of dorm rooms and across the floor. There was blood on the carpet, although there was no sign as to whose blood it was; with good fortune, that meant they had escaped.

There was no sign of anyone else, nor sign nor sound of anything else, just the creaking of the stairs as they climbed up to the next floor.

On their floor, there was no sign of anyone either; it was as deserted as it had been downstairs, just the same evidence of destruction and devastation. Something had broken into Team YRBN's room, and a great quantity of sugary snacks and drinks bestrewed the corridor floor, some of said drinks leaking and staining the carpet.

Better that than blood.

Team SAPR's door had also been broken, ripped off its hinges, the letters that spelled out their team name scattered on the floor. The photo of their team at Benni Havens', taken in times so much simpler and happier than now, before she and Sunset had both contrived to fall out with Ruby, lay on the floor as well. Something had stepped on the frame, shattering it, spilling glass all over the crumpled photo.

Worse, it sounded like there was something still inside their room. Certainly Pyrrha could hear a rumbling coming from within.

She drew back Miló for an overarm thrust as she approached the broken doorway.

She stepped delicately over one of the white knights they had taken in the forest during Initiation; it looked as though something had chewed on it. As she shuffled forward, Pyrrha's foot bumped into another, smaller chess piece, one that Sunset had found during another trip into the forest, the one that had ended with them confronting Doctor Merlot on his island.

The floor of the dorm room itself was covered in the torn out pages of books, although which books, Pyrrha could not say because her attention was rather on the ursa that was standing in the closet doorway.

It was a young-ish ursa, judging by the lack of extravagant bone sticking out of the back which it presented to Pyrrha, but big enough for all that; it was having to hunch down in order to fit even halfway through the closet. It sounded as though it was eating something. It turned, banging its head — cracking the wall — at first, then managing to get around and show Pyrrha that it was munching on something far worse than Pyrrha's dresses.

Ruby's legs dangled out of the ursa's mouth; nothing above her skirt was visible; it disappeared down the creature's maw.

Pyrrha made a sound that mingled shriek and roar and outraged howl all at once. She threw Akoúo̱ across the room and charged after it herself; the shield struck the ursa in the belly, then rebounded off to slam into the wall and bury itself there, but by then, Pyrrha had already closed the distance and, with both hands, thrust her spear deep into the grimm's extended gut. Miló roared as she extended the spear out further into the grimm.

Pyrrha kept one hand upon Miló, but with her other, she grabbed one of Ruby's motionless legs and tried to pull her free from out of the ursa's jaws. The ursa bit down, holding on tightly as it flailed at her with its paws.

Jaune blocked the blow of one paw with his shield as he stepped up beside her, screaming in anger as he thrust Crocea Mors into the torso of the ursa time and time again. From the doorway, Penny did likewise, the blades of Floating Array flying across the room to rise and fall, rise and fall like the knives of the conspirators that strike a statesman down, piercing the ursa over and over again.

The grimm hung onto Ruby with its teeth.

Pyrrha drew Miló out and transformed her weapon fluidly into sword mode as she hacked down on the ursa's paw, severing it from its body in two strokes.

The ursa opened its mouth to roar in pain, and Pyrrha fell backwards as Ruby abruptly flew out of the creature's mouth and landed on top of her. Jaune stepped back, covering both of them with his shield.

The swords of Floating Array flew back to Penny, forming a tight ring in front of her as the blades retracted.

The tips of the carbines began to glow bright green.

The wounded ursa let out a mewling sound of confusion.

The laser blast consumed the ursa, causing everything above the belly to vanish along with the SAPR closet, a good deal of the contents, and parts of several walls behind running through the building.

As the remains of the ursa smoked, Penny folded her swords up behind her. "How is she? Ruby?!"

"I don't know," Pyrrha said, sitting up a little. Ruby was unconscious; she was alive — when Pyrrha held her vambrace up to her mouth, the metal misted up — but her eyes were closed, and there was no sign of her stirring.

Pyrrha turned her onto her side, face downwards, not pressed into the floor but positioned so that if she vomited or the like, she would not choke upon it.

"Ruby?" she said. "Ruby?"

There was no response. A frown creased Pyrrha's brow beneath her circlet. Yes, being eaten by a grimm had a paralysing effect — if you were unfortunate enough to be swallowed by one, you couldn't fight your way out again; someone else would have to act quickly to rescue you — but if you were rescued, then the paralysing effect wore off quite quickly; at least, that was Pyrrha's understanding — and her experience, with Sunset in Mountain Glenn.

Jaune sheathed his sword and knelt down over her. One hand glowed with the shimmering golden light of his semblance, but he said, "If her aura was broken, then that ursa would have bitten her in half, but she isn't even injured. Not a bite mark on her." His brow creased. "And how did one ursa — and that ursa wasn't that strong or that smart — get the drop on her enough to half eat her before we came along? How did it get the drop on all three of them? There's no way that thing ate Dove and Amber and then was onto Ruby without any of them doing anything to stop it. No way that happened."

"Then where are Amber and Dove?" asked Penny.

"Amber," Pyrrha whispered, with one hand stroking Ruby's cheek. Ruby's slumbering cheek. A chill dread stole over her. The memory of the first day of the tournament, just the day before yesterday, when they had all tested Penny's new semblance, and Amber … Amber had shown them her semblance.

Golden motes of light floating through the air, and a feeling of drowsiness.

No. No, it can't be. It can't, it … it just can't.

I cannot be, but I fear, I very much fear, I dread … what a fool I was, what fools we were.

Amber.

Pyrrha got to her feet. Though her legs trembled beneath her, though they felt like melted chocolate being held in place only by her armoured greaves and cuisses, or perhaps because they felt so weak, she rose nonetheless. She rose and almost staggered backwards, having to put one hand out to the wall for support.

"Pyrrha?" Penny asked, looking at her. "What's wrong?"

"Amber," Pyrrha whispered. "Amber did this. She has betrayed us all."

XxXxX
​

Author's Note: The great picture of Dove and Amber was done for me by the very talented Rainbow Zebra

 

[ScipioSmith]

Command in the Courtyard

​

Amber and her … her cohort, she did not like them all enough to call them friends, nor did she trust them all enough to call them her allies, but for better or worse, they were her companions, and as a group, they crept away from Beacon.

They were fortunate; it seemed that Pyrrha and Ciel and Penny and all the rest were not trying to retake the whole of Beacon in one fell swoop. Rather, they appeared only to be fighting in or around certain parts of the school. Amber could hear the gunfire, which was certainly louder than it had been when she had ventured out onto the field herself, but the firing and the sounds of battle were only coming from certain places, not everywhere. Amber and those who accompanied her had been able to pick a way through the grounds unseen, unnoticed, skirting grimm and students both alike.

Amber would be glad to be away from here, away from Beacon, away from the fighting that raged in other parts of the school — fighting that, with every gunshot, reminded Amber that this was her fault, her doing, that this was all for her benefit — and away especially from the tower, with those emerald lights that burned still, in spite of everything. Though on the ground, the dark was closing in, up above, the emerald lights yet burned against the darkness. Amber could not help but imagine Ozpin there, his eyes all-seeing, watching her.

Ridiculous, of course; Ozpin's eyes were not all-seeing; she could fill a book up with the things that he had failed to see: her first flight, Cinder's attempt on her life, her present … her present betrayal.

The emerald lights might burn atop the tower, but Ozpin's eyes were blind there.

Yet, nevertheless, she longed to be away from the lights.

It would not be long now. Soon, they would have reached the end of Beacon proper, the grounds of the school; they still needed to creep past Benni Havens', but after that, they could take the road south for a while. Tempest, leading the way, said she knew a place where they could hide, for a few hours at least, until it was time to return and get the Relic.

Some old house, apparently; Cinder had used it but had no more need of it now.

Amber didn't really want to stay somewhere lately inhabited by Cinder, but if it was only a few hours, then she would bear it.

The prize made such things worth it.

She wondered if they had started looking for her yet, or if they would not find her missing until the battle was done.

If they did look for her, then they might find Ruby sleeping, and since Amber had shown them her semblance, then they might work out that Amber was the one who had put her to sleep.

And then … then, they would keep looking for her, she supposed, and their chance of finding her would be just the same whether they sought her as friends or foes.

Although it might be better if some grimm ate the little beast — not that she would ever say so where Dove could hear her — to put off the moment when the truth came out.

Either way, the main thing right now was to come away from here.

They were almost away. Benni Havens' lay on their right as they crept through the dark, and as they passed by, Amber could not help but turn her head in the direction of the restaurant. It had not been destroyed; it didn't even look damaged. All the lights were on inside, casting a light out to illuminate the exterior, which didn't look to be in quite such good condition: a lot of the outdoor tables and chairs had been broken or knocked aside, and so had the fake stuffed grimm who had decorated the space.

But the building itself looked fine. That was … that was good. Dove, Lyra, Sunset, Pyrrha, they all seemed to have happy memories of the place, and though Amber had only been there once, that once had been a lovely evening.

It was good it had not been destroyed.

As they snuck by, using the dark to mask themselves from prying eyes, the door to Benni's was flung open, and a large form, silhouetted against the light from within, stood in the doorway.

"Okay, I know you're out there!" Benni yelled into the night. "How about you come out and we get this over with, huh?"

They heard the sound of a gun being cocked, or pumped, or whatever the right word was.

"Don't shoot!" Dove cried, holding out his hands as he stepped forward into the light. "Please, ma'am, don't shoot."

"Dove?" Benni asked. She stepped forward, out of the doorway, so that the light didn't conceal her face and features in silhouette as it had done. She held a double-barrel shotgun with a two-headed axe attached to the barrels, although she let the weapon fall to her side, holding it loosely in one hand. Her squirrel tail curled up behind her head. "Dove, is that you?"

Dove nodded. "It's me," he said. "I'm glad to see you're alright."

Benni laughed. "The grimm have had their chances to kill me; they didn't take 'em, but you!" She pulled Dove into a one-armed hug, pressing his head against her chest. "I'm glad to see you're okay, kid." She let him go. "But what are you doing here? Are you all by yourself?"

"No," Amber answered for him as she emerged out of the dark. "No, he's not alone."

Lyra, Bon Bon, and with the most reluctance, Tempest came to stand beside her.

"Lyra, Bon Bon, Amber, I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Benni said softly. She glanced at Tempest. "I don't think we've met."

"No, we haven't," Tempest said. She paused for so long that Amber thought that she was going to leave it at that, before she said, "Tempest. My name is Tempest."

"Nice to meet you; wish it were under better circumstances," Benni said. "I'm Benni; I run this place." She turned her attention back to Dove and the others. "What are you kids doing here? I mean, it's great to see you're all still kicking, but—"

"They're escorting me," Amber told her. "I … I'm not a huntress, not a fighter, I…" Amber looked down. The words came easily to her because there was so much truth in them. "I'm afraid. When the grimm came and everything started happening … I can't help, and I'd only get in the way, and I'm so frightened. Ozpin agreed to let my friends escort me somewhere safe."

"Right," Benni replied. "I can't blame you for being scared. It's a scary time. To think that I'd live to see grimm in Beacon, gods, and be able to hear all my kids fighting right outside." She paused. "Well, if you want to wait inside, I've already got a whole restaurant full of frightened people waiting for all this to blow over, so there's room for the five of you as well. I tell you, I'd be making a fortune if I wasn't so kindhearted as to feed them all for free."

"Have you had any trouble with the grimm?" Dove asked. "I'm surprised all that fear isn't drawing them."

"I don't think they're coming this way," Benni replied. "But if they do," — she held up her shotgun — "I guess we'll see if I've still got it."

"It's very kind of you to offer," Amber said. "But we're heading down the road, towards Vale."

"Are you sure?" asked Benni. "Have you heard the news about what's going on in Vale? Grimm cultists, power outages, General Blackthorn has declared martial law, and who knows where the Council is? Seriously, I think you'd be better off in here."

"I … no," Amber said, shaking her head. "As I say it … it's very kind of you, but this place … it's too close. I should like to get further away."

Benni nodded slowly. "I guess I can understand that," she said. "Well, if you want to take your chances in Vale, then I can't stop you, but … be careful, okay. Take care…" She held out one arm, as though she wanted to hug someone, maybe even all of them, all of them except Tempest perhaps, the person that she didn't know. Or perhaps even Tempest, too, unknown to her or not.

"I can't really give you a hug while I'm holding this," she said, "so just take care. Take care of each other. That's all there is at the end of the day: just take care of one another. Take care and … wait right here a second; I'll be right back." She turned away and walked quickly back towards the door, disappearing through it back into the restaurant.

"We should leave before she comes back," Tempest said.

"We can't do that!" Lyra cried. "We have to stay and see what it is."

"What it is might be calling Ozpin on us," Tempest muttered.

"Benni wouldn't do that," Lyra insisted. "Benni's our friend."

"Are you sure of that?" asked Tempest.

"Yes!"

"Lyra's right," Amber said calmly. "She is a friend, of Lyra and Dove, and we're going to stay and find out why she asked us to. She won't be long."

Indeed, she wasn't long at all; it was minutes at most when Benni emerged again, with a brown paper bag slung under her arm and a cardboard box in her hand.

"Lyra, take this box, will you?" she asked.

Lyra took the box, at which point, Benni held out the bag to Amber.

"There's some fries in here," she said, as the smell of the chips wafted out of the bag and into Amber's nostrils. "And in the box Lyra's holding, there's apple pie with some whipped cream. I would have given you ice cream, but I didn't want it to melt. It's just a little something for the road, in case you get hungry."

Amber inhaled the smell of the chips she was holding; it would have smelled nice in many contexts, delicious and enticing, but at the moment, in the circumstances, it just made her feel a little ill. Sick to her stomach, in fact.

Tempest was right; we should have just gone.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"It's nothing," Benni said dismissively. "Listen, I don't know what your plans are, but when all this blows over, I expect to see you all back here for at least one more meal to say a real goodbye, you hear me?"

"Of course," Amber replied, Amber lied, Amber pretended that this wasn't the last time they would ever see her. "Of course we will."

XxXxX​

Pyrrha would have sat down, had she felt as though the circumstances allowed it.

As things stood, it felt a little self-indulgent, and so she tried to remain on her feet for all that the ursa in the room, or even an ursa major, couldn't have hit her harder than this revelation was hitting her right now.

Amber had betrayed them. Cinder had been right about her.

Cinder had been right about Amber.

It hardly seemed credible. Compare the two of them, and Amber and Cinder were, or seemed to be, Alcestis — daughter of the gods of the sky and wife to Theseus — to a boarbatusk. One was all goodness, all virtues, all sweetness and sweet things, engaging and delightful, the other … the other was all wrath, pride, and self-pity mingled in unlikeable concoction, all danger and foul scents and fouler tasting things besides. Cinder was not without virtue, perhaps, just as Amber was not without fault — Cinder could not be honestly said to lack personal courage, just as Amber at times seemed to possess rather little of the same, and Cinder was certainly honourable, upon her own terms if no other — but compared one against the other … who would not choose Amber over Cinder? Who would not trust Amber more, who would not believe in Amber over Cinder, who would not put their faith in the goddess rather than the imp who cringed away from darkness?

One was the true Maiden, chosen by Ozpin to inherit the power of the Fall Maiden, embodiment of a line of Maidens who had since ancient days upheld the virtues of gratitude and acceptance; the other had sought to steal that power for herself, no matter the cost.

If someone were to come and look at this, without any other knowledge or personal history with the two, would they not say that Amber was the trustworthy one? What impartial observer of the case would believe Cinder? Cinder hadn't even offered any proof!

And yet, she had been right.

Cinder had been right, and she, Pyrrha, had been wrong.

I and Sunset and Professor Ozpin.

But Sunset wasn't here, was she? Pyrrha had stood by and let Ruby send her away, a decision which … whatever Sunset might or might not have done in regard to Amber specifically, it didn't change the fact that that decision, and Pyrrha's acceptance of it, was looking less and less like a good decision with every passing moment.

Or perhaps I would have just liked someone else here to take responsibility, or share it with me at the least.

But Sunset wasn't here, and as for Professor Ozpin … she had, unfortunately or no, passed the point at which she could attribute all blame to Professor Ozpin. After all, if she had disagreed with Professor Ozpin, she could have told her friends what Cinder had said about Amber. But she hadn't.

No, she could not excuse away her part in this. She had given Amber the opportunity to do this, and Ruby had nearly paid the price for it.

Cinder might not know it, but by the mere fact of being right, she had injured Pyrrha more than she could have done with her obsidian blades.

And now, she must confess the fault and explain herself to Jaune and Penny.

They were both still kneeling on the floor on either side of Ruby. Jaune had his hand upon Ruby's forehead, and his semblance was spreading golden light over Ruby's body, enveloping her in the soft embrace of his semblance.

It didn't seem to be making any difference. Ruby showed no more signs of waking now than she had displayed before.

She lay there, still and silent with her eyes closed, seeming so much younger than she did awake, while Jaune and Penny knelt around her in the midst of torn up pages.

Pyrrha looked down and bent down a little to get a better look at what the pages had been torn out from.

Some of them were from her copy of The Mistraliad; she recognised the verse, that deathless verse as it had been referred to by its admirers, the unparallelled, unequalled verse; it might be deathless, but her copy had surely died the death at the hands of that ursa, and any other grimm who had been through here. Not that it was of any great matter; it was not a rare or expensive copy; in her family home in Mistral, there was a hand-inked copy that was centuries old, given to Prince Pericles Nikos as a wedding gift by the then Lady Rutulus upon his wedding to her daughter, Lady Lucretia. But of course, Pyrrha hadn't brought that with her to Beacon; this was just an ordinary store-bought copy of the kind that you could find in any good bookshop.

More precious by far, Pyrrha could see as she looked around the floor at the scattered and tattered bits of paper that concealed the carpet, were the pages that seemed to have been torn out of Ruby's copy of The Song of Olivia. That, as she understood it, was a rare book: a book that had belonged to Dove's grandfather, a book that was hard to come by these days, a book that was rare and precious and … and now gone. They might sort through the pages, try and find them all, bind the book again either in the old covers or a new one, but it would not be quite the same, even if they found every last page and every page was still intact enough to read. Something … something would have been lost, nonetheless.

Something irreplaceable.

Penny turned her head and looked up at Pyrrha. "Pyrrha? Why would you say that? Why would you say that about Amber?"

"Because…" Pyrrha choked. The shame scalded her throat and stopped the words. "Because we saw her semblance, just two days ago, when you found your semblance; Amber showed us hers, she—"

"Can put people to sleep," Jaune murmured. He raised his hand away from Ruby, the golden light that had enveloped her flickering and dying. "I … I guess that she could have done this, but come on, Pyrrha, why would she? Why…" The words died. "There's something you're not saying, isn't there?"

"There is something that I don't want to say," Pyrrha admitted. She bowed her head and closed her eyes. She didn't really want to look at any of the others at the moment. "Last night…" Goodness, had it only been last night? It seemed so very long ago. "Last night, when we spoke to Cinder, she told us that … that Amber had…" — her body trembled — "that Amber had betrayed us. That she had sold out to Salem."

"But…" Jaune said. "But then why—?"

"Because in accepting Amber's betrayal, Salem had betrayed Cinder in her turn," Pyrrha explained. "There cannot be two Fall Maidens, after all, and Amber can give Salem far more than Cinder can; Cinder does not know where the Relic of Choice is being held, but Amber does."

"So … Cinder attacked Amber because she knew that Amber had sided with Salem, and that meant that Salem didn't need Cinder anymore," Penny said. "So … Cinder was hoping to kill Amber last night so that Salem would need her — Cinder, that is — again?"

"That … would have made some sense," Pyrrha conceded. "But I think it makes more sense than was in Cinder's heart that night; she was driven not by sense but by … by her emotions, though those emotions may be too much of a whirl for me to describe: anger, despair, pride. I think, to the extent that she thought of anything, she wanted nothing more than to die that night, a death in battle, facing her great enemies; she charged for glory seeking death. A death that I denied to her."

"But how did she know?" Penny asked. "How did she know that Amber—?"

"She didn't," Pyrrha said quickly, because it was perhaps the one exonerating detail in all of this, that Cinder had offered not a shred of proof of any of this. "She offered no proof, only her supposition as to what had happened. She had worked it out, she claimed, from seeing Tempest Shadow so close by us that night, and Tempest, as she said—"

"Is also working for Salem," Jaune finished for her.

"Precisely," Pyrrha said softly. "Cinder believed that Tempest's presence was a sign that Amber was on the other side now and that Tempest was at the carnival, as we were, to safeguard her. But she offered no proof of that, or any other of her accusations. She asked us to accept her deductions on faith."

"But you told us all the rest of her accusations," Jaune pointed out.

Pyrrha opened her eyes. She couldn't not open them, in the face of Jaune's tone. It was a hard tone, flat like the surface of his shield. His expression was the same way — flat, and difficult to read. He had risen to his feet, and now looked ever so slightly down upon her.

"Yes," Pyrrha admitted, because she could hardly do anything else in the circumstances. "Yes, I told you that Cinder had accused Tempest, and Bon Bon, and Professor Lionheart at Haven—"

"But not Amber," Jaune said.

"We didn't believe her!" Pyrrha cried. "None of us did, not I, nor Sunset, nor Professor Ozpin." She stopped for a moment, wincing at the ease with which she had sought to include them in this as though that offered some defence. "And Cinder offered no proof, and … and it was Amber. Should I have told you all that Cinder had suggested Amber had betrayed us, what then? Would either of you have chosen to believe Cinder instead of Amber, our friend?"

"No," Penny said quickly. "No, I wouldn't. I would have had faith in our friend, the same way you did. I would have thought that Cinder was lying to us, trying to trick us, trying to make us turn on one another. The same…" — she hesitated for a moment, then said — "the same way that—"

"That we turned on Sunset?" Jaune said quietly. "That's what you were going to say, wasn't it?"

Penny looked up at him. She, too, rose to her feet; although that didn't bring her so close to either Jaune or Pyrrha, she was still left looking up at the both of them. "I'm sorry," she said. "I know—"

"You don't need to apologise," Jaune said quickly, before she could. His voice was very soft now, not a whisper, but as gentle a breeze as had ever wafted through the window. "I…" He glanced away from them, then looked at Pyrrha. "You're right," he said. "Who … nobody would have believed Cinder when she said that Amber was our enemy. Even if you had told us — and that would have been awkward, with Amber and Dove right there — we would have all just laughed it off because, well, it was Amber. This isn't your fault."

"No?" Pyrrha asked. "Though I kept silent?"

"Does it matter if you would have talked or not if none of us would have believed you?" Jaune asked. "I mean, it was Cinder telling you this; why would we listen to her? The only person who might actually have believed her was Sunset, but she didn't, did she?"

"No," Pyrrha murmured. "She … became rather irate when she heard it."

"Then it's not your fault," Jaune told her. "You trusted Amber, but so did I, so did Sunset, so did Ruby; we all trusted Amber. We all would have trusted Amber even if we knew that Cinder had told us that Amber wasn't to be trusted. We would have thought it was some kind of scheme or something. Penny's right; they did … what would we have done differently?"

"Perhaps nothing," Pyrrha conceded. "But I would feel less guilty if I had told you."

"Because we'd all share in the guilt of ignoring Cinder?" Jaune asked, eyebrows raising.

Pyrrha looked away. "Yes," she muttered. "I don't like the fact that she was right, especially about this. Especially about Amber … I liked her very much."

"I liked her too," Penny said. "Are we sure that Cinder was right about her? I mean, like you said, there wasn't any proof, and what if Ruby fell asleep because of some other reason? I can't think of one, but that doesn't mean that there isn't any other way that Ruby could have ended up like this!"

"Then where are Amber and Dove?" asked Jaune.

"I…" Penny hesitated. "I don't know."

"I fear that there are only a few possibilities," Pyrrha said. "Either Amber and Dove are dead, and Ruby is the last survivor because we were in time to save her and not the others; or Amber and Dove fled, leaving Ruby in this state; or Amber — and Dove — have betrayed us, they put Ruby to sleep, and then … departed, leaving her to the mercy of the grimm. If they were … if Amber has not betrayed us, if Cinder is lying—"

"Then why not take Ruby with them?" Jaune asked. "And why, for that matter, would they all just stay here with the grimm attacking the school? Wouldn't Ruby have tried to get them out? Or get them somewhere safer, anyway."

Penny frowned. "We wouldn't be considering this if Cinder hadn't said it."

"No," Pyrrha allowed. "But she did say it, and as much as I wish it didn't, it fits what we see, doesn't it?"

Penny took a second to reply. "I wish that it didn't."

"We all do," Jaune said. "She was … we all … I can hardly believe it, and Dove? Dove? I can't even … no, that's a lie, I know why. It's because he loves her." He gave a sort of wan smile. "He loves her so much that he'll do anything for her, to be with her. Because now that he's got her back, he realises that he can't live without her. Because he's hers, and she's his, and it's the two of them, together, whatever it takes."

"But why is Amber doing it?" Penny demanded. "Why would she do this to Ruby? Why would she do this to all of us?"

"Because she's frightened," Pyrrha murmured.

"But we could have protected her!" Penny cried. "We did protect her, we kept her safe from Cinder, we won."

"That … it seems that wasn't enough," Pyrrha replied. "If … Amber would have been hunted all her life for the powers of the Fall Maiden, so that Cinder or someone else in Salem's service could retrieve the Relic of Choice. But if Amber gives the Relic to Salem, then … then Salem will have no more need to hunt her."

"Is that where you think she's gone?" Penny asked. "To get the Relic? Is that where we need to go?"

"I … don't know," Pyrrha admitted. "I think … I don't know; maybe they mean to wait until the grimm have taken Beacon? I don't know; I've no idea what they intend."

Penny looked down at Ruby. She knelt once more down by her side. "And if Amber did this to Ruby, then how do we wake her up again?" She reached out and put her hand palm down on Ruby's forehead. She frowned. Then she scowled. Then she made a noise that might have suggested stomach trouble if she had a stomach. "It didn't work," she said with a pout. "I thought that maybe I could use my semblance on Ruby to break Amber's semblance, but it seems like it only works on me."

"That makes sense," Pyrrha said. "It was your freedom that you sought, not ours."

"I suppose," Penny said, with obvious unhappiness clear in her voice. "What are we…?" She stopped. "We'll go and find Professor Ozpin and take Ruby with us. Maybe he can help her, but even if he can't, then he can keep her safe until she wakes up. And we can tell him about Amber. About what we think we know about Amber. The Relic … the Relic can wait until we've gotten Ruby to safety, if that's what Professor Ozpin wants; if that's where he thinks we should go, then we'll go there, and … but Ruby comes first." She paused. "And Pyrrha … don't blame yourself. You trusted your friend; that's not a bad thing."

"Even when she turns out to be a false friend?"

"That's on her, not you," Penny said. "You were the best friend you could be to Amber, we all tried to be her friend, and as her friends, we thought well of her. That she didn't deserve that isn't your fault or your problem." Again, she paused. "And will you do something for me?"

"Of course," Pyrrha said. "What is it?"

Penny glanced at Jaune. "I'd like you to call Sunset and tell her that we would like her help and if she can could she get to the CCT and meet us there."

Now, it was Pyrrha's turn to glance at Jaune to see how he would react.

"Why are you both looking at me?" Jaune asked. "I think … you're right. We could do with Sunset's help. No offence, Penny, but we never let a grimm get away the way we did at the arena when Sunset was with us, and, well, as much as I might not be ready to completely forgive her for what she did … I shouldn't have forgotten all the things that she did for us either, for me. I was too quick to forget that, or too slow to remember. She helped me, she saved Pyrrha's life, I promised that I wouldn't forget it, and then…"

The evil that men do lives after them, Pyrrha thought. The good is oft interred with their bones.

But Sunset is not yet dead, if fortune be good, so her good may yet be remembered.

"And besides," Jaune went on, "I can't help feeling like we've kind of walked into the bad guys' trap when it comes to sending her away. And if Amber is our enemy, then we could use all the help we can get. We could use someone with magic of her own, and a lot of luck. But, if Ruby wakes up, I'm not sure she'll see it the same way."

"Well, I'm sorry, but Ruby isn't the team leader, I am," Penny declared. "And I think this is the right decision. Pyrrha, will you please make the call?"

Pyrrha nodded and got out her scroll. Sunset would have every right to be affronted to receive it — that they had kicked her, spurned her from the door, banished her out of their presence, but now that it seemed they needed her help, they expected her to, for these great courtesies, fight alongside them in battle — but she knew that Sunset would not react like that. She was, whatever her other faults might be, too kind to them, too full of love in her heart for them, too devoted to them to refuse and turn away, justified though some might find the turning.

Sunset would fly to their aid if she could the moment it was asked.

Or so Pyrrha thought. But Sunset didn't actually answer her scroll. The indicator remained resolutely amber, trying but failing to connect, the moments, the seconds, a whole minute passing by with no shift of the icon to green, no sound of Sunset's voice, no sight of her face.

Sunset would answer if she could. She would not ignore us. "I fear she may be caught up in events elsewhere," Pyrrha said. "If she is in Vale—"

"Right," Penny murmured. "Right, then … then I'm sure she's doing what she can … somehow. And I guess we'll have to keep doing what we can without her." She paused. "I'm doing the right thing, aren't I? Going to Professor Ozpin?"

Jaune picked Ruby up, cradling her in his arms as she lay sleeping. "I think so. He needs to know, and … we could maybe use some advice, even if it is from him."

Yes, Pyrrha thought. Yes, we could.

If the Professor is in a state to give advice once he hears the news we have to bring him.

XxXxX​

Rainbow leapt down out of the airship and immediately shot a beowolf square in the chest with her shotgun. The grimm was blasted backwards, already turning to ashes before it hit the ground.

She pumped Undying Loyalty and fired again at another close-by beowolf, this time blowing its leg off. She reversed her grip on the shotgun and clubbed it across the face with the butt to finish it off.

She pumped it again as she reversed it back into its proper grip.

The courtyard was confused. It was all confusion, there were civilians and grimm both present, and both coming in from all directions, from the fairgrounds and from the school buildings around the courtyard where they'd been sheltering.

There was blood on some of the courtyard stone.

Lights had been set up around the courtyard for the benefit of the festival goers who would be sticking around past darkness falling, and they combined with the moonlight to illuminate the area; beyond the lights, around the buildings, it was harder to see anything, but Rainbow could still catch glimpses of the red eyes of more grimm gleaming there, watching in the dark.

She'd deal with them later. Right now, there were enough grimm to deal with where she could see them.

"Get back!" she yelled to the tourists, gesturing backwards with one hand as she shot another beowolf. "Get behind us."

The initial drop was likely to be the easiest part of this battle, the part at which the huntsmen, concentrated in one location — well, three locations, but concentrated in a single location at each of the three key points — struck like a fist into the diffuse and spread out grimm. A giant ursa major with spikes taller than Rainbow's height lumbered forward, growling and snarling, but a single shot from Ciel's Distant Thunder blew half its head clean off, and it fell down dead on the ground. A beowolf threw itself on Rarity, but she held it off with one of her diamonds before driving her épée straight into its open mouth. A griffon tried to swoop down upon them from above, but Blake managed to land her hook into its chest and dragged it down to the ground where she slashed at it in a furious flurry with blade and cleaver alike until it was nothing but smoke and ashes. Maud tore a huge chunk of earth from the lawn just beyond the courtyard and threw it at a cluster of beowolves with her geokinetic semblance, obliterating them in a cloud of dust. Huntsmen and huntresses poured out of the Skyrays, descending into the courtyard and into the battle. Civilians sheltered behind them as they charged into the grimm; it wasn't quite true to say that they achieved numerical superiority, but they definitely achieved combat superiority in those first moments of landing. The grimm couldn't stand before them as the courtyard erupted with the sounds of gunfire, drowning out the howls and cries of the grimm.

An alpha beowolf leapt down from one of the upper floors, landing on the huntsmen and huntress statue that dominated the courtyard; its landing shattered the huntsman, turning it to fragments of black stone, leaving only a pair of trunkless legs with jagged, ragged ankles and the beowolf standing over them.

With a single swing of its paw, it broke the huntress too, breaking her statue at the waist, sending more shards of black stone showering down upon the courtyard.

It beat its chest as it roared out defiance to the night sky and the broken moon.

Rainbow fired Undying Loyalty once, then pumped, then fired again. The alpha beowolf raised its arms to cover its chest and face; those arms were covered with plates and spurs of bone, the spikes not too long but looking wickedly sharp for all that.

Blake found an opening in the beowolf's armour, her hook flying through the air to bury itself in the beowolf's shoulder between two plates of bone. Then it was Blake who flew as she leapt upon the thread of black ribbon to aim a forceful flying kick straight at the grimm.

The alpha beowolf again blocked, twisting its body to present face and chest and its two protected warding forelegs. Blake's kick slammed into one of its bony spurs without any visible damage. The beowolf swept its arms out, but Blake disappeared in the black flickering of a clone, reappearing lower on the black rock that was the statue base, hurling herself upon the alpha beowolf from behind. Sword and cleaver alike whirled in her hands as she slashed with blow after blow at the beowolf's back and side, both her weapons glancing off the armoured plates.

The alpha beowolf rounded on her.

Rainbow leapt, a single bound carrying her from the courtyard up onto the statue where she bodily slammed into the beowolf's flank.

It was a tough one not to get knocked clean off the plinth; it dug its hind paw claws into the black stone, doing more damage to the remains of the poor old huntsman as it anchored itself to the plinth. It swiped at Rainbow's back with its claws as Rainbow, hunched over, wrapped her arms around its midriff.

She winced as she felt the monster's paw strike at her, claws scoring her aura, but it didn't stop her from kicking at its knee repeatedly with one foot until she had dislodged it from its grip on the rock-like plinth beneath them.

Grunting with effort, Rainbow hoisted the beowolf up into the air, all four of its legs flailing wildly, and then slammed it down with a thudding, smashing sound — and an unfortunate breaking of what was left of the huntsman's feet and ankles — down into the plinth.

Blake appeared above the snarling creature, descending on it from above to land squarely on its chest before driving her black katana down through the alpha's unprotected neck.

It didn't kill the creature, but it did drive all the way through it and into the plinth below, pinning it.

The alpha beowolf growled and gurgled and struggled to free itself as Blake hacked away with her cleaver until she had taken its head.

And then, as the beowolf dissolved, Blake stood on the highest point of the rock and drew her sword out of the stone and raised it up triumphantly above her head.

And for a moment, as the moonlight caught her, pale as the moon but with hair black as night, as it glinted off her silver armband, as she stood with her sword in the air on the top of the rock, Blake looked more heroic than that old huntsman ever had.

And judging by the way that people — huntsmen and civilians alike — cheered, Rainbow wasn't the only one who thought so.

She smiled, in spite of the circumstances, and shuffled backwards a little down the rock only to bump into what was left of the huntress.

From her vantage point, Rainbow looked around and saw that they had cleared the courtyard. That was to be expected. That was the easy part, the part before their own forces became as or more diffuse than the grimm, spread out by the necessity of holding or retaking the nearby buildings or holding the ways open to the fairgrounds and the docks.

Nevertheless, it was an achievement. It was stage one accomplished.

"Listen up, everyone who's not a huntsman!" Rainbow shouted. "We are going to get you out of here. As we speak, some of our fellow students are securing the docking pads, and once we've opened up a safe path for you, then airships are going to start taking you up to the Amity Arena where you'll be safe! But until that route opens up, just stay here and don't worry; we're here to protect you."

"Would you like me to patch you through to all the other students?" Midnight asked, her voice appearing from somewhere behind — no, it was from down around the small of Rainbow's back.

Rainbow instinctually looked around, her body twisting at the waist. "Midnight? Where—?"

"What you were doing sounded a lot more fun than hanging around with Twilight up in the Colosseum," Midnight explained matter-of-factly. "So I hitched a ride on your scroll."

Rainbow's eyebrows rose. "You can do that? Wow, you're advanced."

"Why, thank you, Rainbow Dash. You're my new favourite."

"Sure I am," Rainbow muttered. "But that's a great idea, patch me through."

"Coming right up," Midnight said. There was a moment's pause before she added, "You're on."

"Huntsmen and huntresses, this is Rainbow Dash of Atlas Academy," Rainbow said. "For those of you who have been down at Beacon the whole time, reinforcements have just landed from the Amity Arena to assist you and evacuate all the civilians out of the school. All teams should try and regroup at the fairgrounds, the courtyard, or the docking pads, whichever is closest to you, especially if you have civilians with you. Once you get there, report to me at the courtyard, Yang Xiao Long at the docking pads, or Violet Valeria at the fairgrounds for further instructions."

"Rainbow Dash?" Trixie's voice emerged from behind Rainbow. "Is Trixie glad to hear from you!"

"Trixie, where are you?" Rainbow asked. "What's your status?"

"Trixie is at the fairground with Starlight and Sunburst, and our status is…" Trixie paused. "Tempest didn't make it."

I guess Cinder was wrong about her, Rainbow thought. A shame she had to earn her spot on These Are My Jewels to prove it. A terrible shame. "I'm sorry to hear that," she murmured. "I'm gonna send Maud to get you back up to full strength; Maud—"

"I'm on my way," Maud said, her voice slow and even and a contrast to the speed with which she moved; she practically disappeared, she was so fast, a grey streak soon lost in the darkness.

"Maud?" Starlight asked. "Maud Pie?"

"The one and only," Rainbow said. "I'm sure you've done a great job, but report to Violet Valeria; she's in charge in your sector. Company commanders, what's your status?"

"We've taken the docking pads themselves," Yang said. "But there's some grimm between us and where you are."

"We've taken the courtyard too, so you send someone to fight their way down, we'll send someone to fight their way up, we should catch them in a pincer," Rainbow said. "Violet, what's Charlie Company's status?"

"We're doing what we can," Violet said. "But it's a big fairground, and there's a lot of grimm around here. I don't know if I can hold the perimeter and send anyone towards the courtyard."

"Okay, leave that part to me; I'll send teams through to you," Rainbow said.

She jumped down off the now-empty rock where the statues had once stood. Blake leapt down beside her. Having completed stage one of the battle, the more difficult stage two opened up before her and her team — and all of them, actually, spread out across the school. They'd taken the courtyard, yes, but there were still grimm out there — she could still see a few pairs of red eyes gleaming in the dark, although after Ciel shot a couple of them, the others mostly slunk away, deeper into the cover of night where not even their eyes could be seen — and holding the courtyard, even with the civilians there sheltering beneath their protection, was almost meaningless if they couldn't open up a safe route to get them from Beacon completely. Not to mention the fact that the courtyard was the most vulnerable location to a grimm counterattack, with a lot of buildings overlooking it — the dining hall to the south where flames flickered and burned within, the dormitories directly in front of them, the main school building with all the classrooms and the amphitheatre, both to the north — where grimm could approach through cover, and nobody would see them coming unless Rainbow did something to secure the buildings.

That was why she'd given herself the greater share of the forces — although, perhaps she should have strengthened Charlie Company as well — because, although they'd taken the courtyard quickly through force concentration, she now risked spreading her strength out so much that they were vulnerable to a grimm counterattack.

And yet, she couldn't not spread them out, or she'd leave the grimm with easy avenues of approach, not to mention the need to link up with the fairgrounds and the docks.

Since Yang was coming down the road from the docking pad, which was more than could be said for anyone from Charlie Company at the moment, Rainbow sent only a single team, Shade's Team GEAR, one of only two Shade teams to descend from Amity, up the road to meet them; the other effort, towards the fairgrounds, she stacked a little more, with Team UMBR and Team ABRN jointly leading the effort in that direction, although Rainbow gave them the job of securing the dining hall as well. Team SABR led the push forward into the dormitories, while Team WWSR spearheaded the push north to the classrooms.

"You don't need to clear the whole building; just make sure the grimm can't use it as an approach," Rainbow said.

"What about survivors?" asked Russel Thrush.

"If you can search for them without leaving your rear undefended, then do it," Rainbow said, "but protecting the flank of the courtyard comes first."

Weiss bowed forty-five degrees from the waist before leading her team off, with the other teams following behind her.

That left Rainbow with just a couple of teams to play with holding the courtyard and possibly reinforcing anyone who got into trouble — plus, Blake, Ciel, Rarity, and herself. She had hope that other teams would make their way to the courtyard and boost the overall numbers — where were Lyra and Bon Bon? — but until or unless they did, there wasn't a lot left.

"Yang," Rainbow said. "Can you spare someone to check out the amphitheatre? I'm running a little low on teams."

There was the sound of Yang's gauntlets going off, followed by an explosion. "If you can give me a few minutes, I should be able to manage that," Yang replied.

"Awesome," Rainbow said. "Anyone who needs assistance, just shout up; we'll do what we can." She started to reload her shotgun, pulling the shells out and feeding them one at a time into the loading gate. "What is it, Ciel: up, through snow and storm like death?"

"Quite," Ciel replied. "And may the Lady steel our hearts, strengthen our arms, and judge us mercifully, if need be."

"Mmm-hmm," Neon added, from out of either Rainbow or Ciel's scrolls.

Rainbow pulled her goggles down over her eyes as she walked to the edge of the courtyard, to where the lights did not shine, and briefly turned on the night vision mode in order to scan the darkness. There were … no, there were some grimm still out there, she hadn't seen them at first, but now she did, a few more beowolves slinking this way and that on all fours, down low, looking almost more like Mistralian beowolves than the Valish kind. Mistralian beowolves were bigger for some reason, with broader limbs and thicker bodies, and they moved on all fours, more like real wolves. Valish beowolves were leaner, wirier, and they were as much or more comfortable up on their hind legs, using their forelegs like arms. Except these ones were moving around on all fours, probably to keep their profiles low. They could see Rainbow Dash — they were looking right at her, and their eyes were solid points of bright colour in the night vision — but they didn't move to attack her, in spite of seeming quite young and immature, without much bone to speak of.

There's another alpha out here; I just can't see it, Rainbow thought. She looked around, first left, then right, but she still couldn't see the alpha. A dispersed pack, with the alpha somewhere out of sight, either in cover or else deep into those parts of the grounds they had already overrun?

It was possible. It was also possible that these beowolves were just smart for juveniles. Smart enough not to attack all by themselves.

Not smart enough to back away when they saw that I could see them, Rainbow thought. Holding Undying Loyalty in one hand, she drew Plain Awesome with her left and carefully took aim.

She opened fire, squeezing the trigger then unsqueezing it, firing very short bursts so that the kick didn't throw her aim off — distance and darkness meant that missing wouldn't be difficult — towards the young beowolves that she could see.

That made them attack. They rushed towards her, five of them, staying on all fours to keep their profile low.

Rainbow heard the snap of Gambol Shroud firing from behind and to her left. Two beowolves went down almost at the same time, then another, then another, and there was only one beowolf left to make a flying leap towards Rainbow, forepaws outstretched.

Rainbow holstered Plain Awesome and raised Undying Loyalty to let the beowolf have it. Her shotgun roared, and only the ashes of the grimm brushed lightly past her face as its body dissolved.

There were no other grimm that she could see.

"Do you think they'll be back?" Blake asked.

"Midnight," Rainbow said softly. "Put me on mute for a second." She didn't want everyone on the battlefield to hear everything that she was saying.

"You're muted," Midnight replied. "Except from me, obviously."

"Thanks," Rainbow said softly. She began to back away towards the courtyard and the broken statue. "Yeah, I think they'll be back," she said. "I think they're gathering numbers, and they're gonna make another push once they think they have enough grimm."

"Do you think they know you've just sent most of our huntsmen away?" Blake asked.

"I think maybe those beowolves there were scouting," Rainbow replied. "But I don't know whether to answer that I hope not, because they'll spend longer getting ready, or I hope so because they'll try an indirect approach and run into Sabre or Wisteria or one of the other teams sent out to guard the indirect approaches."

Blake nodded, if only a little bit. "It feels wrong to wait here, doing nothing, with Weiss and the others sent off to fight."

"We're not doing nothing; we're holding this position," Rainbow said. "But if it makes you feel any better — although it shouldn't — if anyone gets into trouble and calls for backup, I'll be sending you. Do you still remember how to work alone?"

"'Alone'?" Blake repeated.

"Like I told Yang, there aren't a lot of teams to send," Rainbow replied. "But I can send you, Ciel … and then I'll have to go myself."

"And Rarity?"

"I'm not sending her anywhere by herself," Rainbow said, sharply even though she kept quiet. "I don't mind she's here, she can take care of herself, but even if she'd gone to the academy, she still wouldn't be 'solo mission' good; she's not you."

"Thanks," Blake murmured, dryly. "I—" She turned around, in the direction of the dorm buildings. "Ruby?"

Rainbow turned in Blake's direction, to see that Team SAPR had just emerged from out of the dormitory: Pyrrha first, then Jaune, then Penny.

Jaune was carrying Ruby in his arms.

Blake was the first to move in their direction, with Rainbow starting a step behind her but swiftly overtaking to reach them first. The way that Ruby wasn't moving, the way that she was just lying there while Jaune cradled her form, it made Rainbow fear the worst, that they had gotten there too late, that Ruby had … but there were no visible injuries on her, no claw marks or bite marks, no blood at all. It was like she was sleeping, not dead. Sleeping in Jaune's arms, deaf to all the battle going on around her.

"What happened?" Rainbow asked, keeping her voice low so as not to wake Ruby up — maybe that was stupid, but it was instinctual; you just didn't go around being loud around sleeping people; it was rude — and also so that they weren't overhead by too many other people.

"We found Ruby like this, in our dorm room," Penny answered, being a little quiet herself.

"And Amber?" Blake asked, also speaking in a hushed whisper. "Dove?"

"We…" Penny hesitated. "We didn't see them, we…" She looked at Pyrrha.

Pyrrha leaned forward, to speak more closely into Rainbow's ear. "If you see Amber, be wary of her; we think she did this to Ruby."

"WHAT?" Rainbow exclaimed, the tact and politeness of quiet around sleeping people forgotten as the word galloped out of her mouth. Amber had … seriously? Why would Pyrrha even say something like that?

"There's no sign of Amber or Dove, and we can't wake Ruby," Pyrrha replied. "Amber's semblance has the power to put people to sleep and…" Pyrrha's face flushed with colour. "Cinder warned us last night that Amber was going to betray us."

"Cinder…?" Rainbow gasped.

"General Ironwood didn't say anything about that," Blake murmured.

"Nobody believed her," Pyrrha explained. "Although perhaps we should. Please, take care around her."

"Okay," Rainbow said softly, although she wasn't sure how much good taking care was going to do them. If Amber chose to use that semblance on them, like she'd used it on Ruby — apparently; Pyrrha could be wrong — then there didn't seem to be much that she could do about it. On the other hand, if Amber didn't use her semblance, then … it was Amber; she was — or seemed to be — nice enough, but she didn't seem a fighter. She seemed like she'd faint if you said 'boo' to her.

Then again, Fluttershy seemed that way as well, and yet, anyone who thought that would be mistaken. Sometimes, you had to dig to fight the hidden metal underneath.

Or the hidden rot. Could Amber really have betrayed us? And why? Why would she side with the people who scarred her face and stole half her magic?

"What do you plan to do now?" Rainbow asked.

"We're taking Ruby to Professor Ozpin," Penny replied. "To see if he can help her and to tell him about Amber."

"Okay, but I'm not sure anyone's certain where Professor Ozpin is, and I don't know what the situation's like around the CCT," Rainbow warned them. "So watch yourselves out there."

XxXxX​

When they had descended in their Skyray down onto the courtyard, Pyrrha had seen the top of the Emerald Tower and seen that there were no grimm flying around it, as though the lights themselves kept the monsters at bay.

It seemed that those same lights had less power when further away, because there were plenty of grimm around the base of the tower when the three — four, with the unconscious Ruby still cradled in Jaune's arms — of them reached it. The square before the tower, what might be called Beacon's second courtyard, which had no statue but did have the Beacon symbol of the crossed axes painted in white across the stone, was crawling with the creatures: beowolves, ursai, one or two large and ape-like beringels with arms as thick as the supporting columns that jutted out from the CCT, around and beneath which the grimm moved without opposition.

There was no one that they could see protecting the tower, and yet, the grimm were making no moves to get inside it; at least, from where Pyrrha, Jaune, and Penny crouched behind a column and a low wall overlooking the square, it didn't look as though they were trying to do so. Although they prowled around the square, stepping with wild abandon upon the painted Beacon axes beneath them, not only did they fail to approach the door, they did not even try to climb the steps that led up to the door.

Perhaps there really was something about the tower that kept them away. Perhaps the fear of Professor Ozpin drove them to keep their distance.

Although the fear of him had not prevented them from attacking Beacon, and it had to be said that whatever power the tower possessed, it was not keeping the grimm at any great distance away.

The square itself still thronged with the creatures of grimm, after all, and they would have to pass through said square in order to reach the tower.

Could Pyrrha and Penny fight them all, while Jaune was effectively out of action carrying Ruby? Perhaps, but could they do so while guaranteeing the protection of Jaune and Ruby? Pyrrha would not like to take that risk. Could Jaune leave Ruby somewhere hidden until they had cleared out the grimm? Again, perhaps, but what if something found Ruby, sleeping and defenceless?

Pyrrha would have been tempted to suggest asking Rainbow Dash for help, but she seemed to be stretched, even with all the teams and students that had come down with them from Amity, and they had to put the evacuation first.

No, this would be something that they would have to do themselves.

Perhaps simply running for the door and hoping the grimm didn't catch them? But what if the … the spell, for want of a better word, protecting the tower faded, and the grimm pursued them there? That was a risk, but despite it, flight might still be a better option in the circumstances than fight.

"Do either of you have an idea?" Penny asked. "I'm not sure."

"No," Jaune said at once. "I don't."

Pyrrha glanced at him. "You said that very quickly."

Jaune blinked. "What do you mean? I don't have an idea, so I said so."

"But you didn't even think about it," Pyrrha pointed out.

"I have been thinking about it, and I didn't come up with anything," Jaune insisted. "Pyrrha, where are you going with this?"

"I'm not sure; why don't you want to share your plan?" asked Pyrrha.

Jaune looked at her. "What makes you think that I have a plan?"

"I … you could call it intuition, I suppose," Pyrrha said softly. "Just … something about your response seemed a little … not yourself."

Jaune was silent for a moment. A sigh escaped his lips. "Okay, so I do have an idea," he admitted. "But I'm not gonna say it because … it asks too much of you."

Pyrrha smiled slightly. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that?"

Jaune sighed again. "I was thinking that if you caused a distraction, then I could run across the courtyard with Ruby and get into the tower before the grimm realised. Then you and Penny — who would cover you from here — could follow."

Pyrrha looked away, her eyes scanning the grimm that crowded the square. "Very well," she said. "Be ready to move when the grimm start to descend upon me."

"But there are so many—" Jaune began.

"I don't have to fight them all," Pyrrha reminded him. "Just distract them, as you said. And I don't think any of us have any better ideas, in any case."

"No," Penny said. "I don't. But are you sure you can do it, Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha nodded. "With good fortune, I think so."

"Okay," Penny said, her voice firm. "Then I'll cover you."

"You should move with me, first," Pyrrha pointed out. "If you start shooting from here, then the grimm might notice Jaune and Ruby, too."

"Good point," Penny said. "Lead the way. I'll follow you."

Pyrrha crept away from Jaune and Ruby, moving crouched down, feeling very conscious as she moved that her outfit was not in the least designed for stealth; rather, her armour was such as the moonlight would glimmer off it, her circlet would shine where her hair did not conceal it, her skin was in many places bare to the world. That would all stand her in good stead when the time came to reveal herself and dare the grimm to do their worst, but right now, it was — or it felt — very conspicuous indeed.

And yet, the grimm did not spot her. Pyrrha was able to move in her gilded greaves and cuisses and her corset-cuirass with its gilded strip down the front and her gorget and all the rest, and there was no howl of alarm raised, no great roar that announced she had become the target of the grimm gathered in the square.

What are they doing? She wondered. What are they waiting for?

Whatever the answers — and Pyrrha could not begin to guess at them — she was able to make it to the corner of the square away from Jaune and slumbering Ruby. If she could lure the grimm in this direction, or even further, then Jaune should be able to make it into the tower with Ruby.

Then it would simply be a matter of Pyrrha and Penny doing the same.

The swords of Floating Array emerged behind Penny but did not separate yet. They remained clumped together in a single mass, ready to deploy.

"Are you ready, Pyrrha?"

"Yes, I am," Pyrrha said. "Don't shoot until they've started to engage me; otherwise, you will be their focus."

"That wouldn't be so bad," Penny pointed out.

"Perhaps not, but it would leave me with little to do," Pyrrha replied, trying to put on a light tone. "Best if you let me draw their attention while you provide support."

"Right," Penny said. "Do your best."

"I hope I shall," Pyrrha murmured.

She took a deep breath in and out.

Pyrrha stood up and left the crouching Penny behind as she strode out onto the square. Her sash swayed loosely at her hip as she walked slowly into view, her footfalls echoed on the stones of the square.

She pulled Miló and Akoúo̱ over her shoulders; Miló shifted into sword mode with a succession of clicks and clanks.

That sound, the sound of her footsteps, the fact that Pyrrha had ceased to make any effort to conceal herself as she walked in an even pace, back straight, head up, ponytail bouncing up and down behind her, all of that meant that some of the grimm were taking notice of her even before she had approached an almost comically confused-looking beowolf and cut off its head in one smooth stroke.

"My name is Pyrrha Nikos!" Pyrrha cried, spreading her arms out on either side of her. "I am the daughter of Hippolyta Nikos, and Achilles was my father!"

She tried to think of something else to say, some quote, something from The Mistraliad, or Tarpeia Thrax's words for Prince Pyrrhus … but the ones that she could think of sounded too melodramatic for the situation, and those that might have been more appropriate were, unfortunately, not coming to mind. Perhaps there really was nothing to be said that was not too melodramatic, too self-important, too heavy with the weight of impending death.

The grimm began to advance upon her, from all parts of the square closing in around her, forming a loose but steadily closing ring. Beowolves and ursai descended onto all fours, bearing their teeth in her direction.

"Come and get me," she said. It was not very dramatic, but it was all she could think of.

She charged straight ahead, and the grimm rushed to meet her, a thousand roaring growls erupting out of their throats.

"Eulalia! For Mistral!" Pyrrha cried. She did not use war cries very often, let alone the cries to gods that she did not honour, but she was trying to attract attention after all, and the more noise she made, the better. She had no horn to sound, but she had a voice to raise, and so she let the ancient cry charge from her lips in answer to the grimm. "Eulalia!"

A creep opened its snapping jaws, but Pyrrha kicked it hard enough to send it flying into a nearby beowolf. The beowolf recoiled, and Pyrrha was on it, slashing with Miló once, twice, spinning on her toe and reversing the blade to stab the grim for one final stroke. She spun again, using Akoúo̱ to take the stroke of a beowolf's paw before hitting the grimm with it and physically forcing it out of her way, opening up a space for her to run. She had to keep moving. If she stopped and stood still, then the grimm would overwhelm her. No matter what, she had to keep moving, like Juturna running around the walls of Mistral — except that, unlike Juturna, she couldn't run circuits because, if she did that, she would pass the doors, and that would defeat the whole object.

But she had to keep moving nonetheless, so long as she kept moving only in certain areas.

She killed another creep by stamping on it hard enough to shatter its skull. An ursa, down on all fours, tried to physically place itself athwart her path as two beowolves closed in from either side. Pyrrha threw Akoúo̱ at one, knocking it backwards, and threw Miló at the other, burying the blade in the grimm's chest, as she ran straight for the ursa.

With her right hand, she grabbed her fluttering sash so that only her hair flew behind her as she leapt over the ursa. The grimm's jaws closed on the empty air — missing her sash, or Pyrrha would have been in difficulty — as Pyrrha rolled down its back and landed on the ground in a crouch.

The black outline of Polarity consumed her hands and arms as she summoned Miló and Akoúo̱ back to her; her fingers closed around the sword as the shield took its accustomed place upon her arm.

Pyrrha charged, sash and hair alike now both streaming out behind her as she brought up Akoúo̱ before her face. She slammed bodily into a beowolf, bearing it back as it tried to reach its legs around her shield, and while she bore it back, she stabbed it twice in quick succession before throwing it aside.

There were grimm chasing her now, the hue and cry well and truly raised, but there were other grimm trying to get ahead of her, trying to block off her passage so that she could be surrounded and torn to pieces. Green beams of light lanced into the grimm that tried to block her way, scattering and disordering them, striking them down as they ran this way and that in their confusion.

Pyrrha skidded under an ursa major's swiping paws, slashing at its leg as she went but not staying to do more. She didn't need to kill the grimm; she just needed to keep their attention.

Although she certainly would kill them if she could: she nearly decapitated a beowolf with a well-aimed throw of Akoúo̱; the shield flew back onto her arm.

Pyrrha glanced behind her and saw that a couple of ursa might be more interested in Penny than in her. She switched Miló quickly from sword to rifle mode and backed away, snapping off a pair of shots into the offending grimm.

"Here!" she shouted. "Here, I'm here! Follow—"

Her words were cut off as something very big and very heavy slammed into her from the side, moving too fast for her to avoid it, lifting her up and hurling her across the square, where she landed on the paving stones with a hard thump that dented her aura. She bounced, rolling as she bounced, before she came to rest with her hair all askew and her arms spread out on either side, lying on her back.

What just—?

A beowolf. A beowolf had just hit her. A beowolf had just flown into her, and it lay beside her, on its belly, growling softly as it breathed heavily in and out.

Pyrrha rolled half upright, crouched down, and drove Miló into the back of the beowolf's neck before it could get up.

Then, without waiting to watch it die, she turned in the direction that it had come from.

The beringel laughed softly, or least, it sounded like a laugh, a guttural sound like a saw moving back and forth.

Pyrrha switched Miló into spear mode for greater reach, as she stepped into a low stance, knees bent, spear drawn back, Akoúo̱ held before her.

The beringel picked up another nearby beowolf and threw it at her. Pyrrha dodged this one, swaying to one side and letting the squawking grimm pass by.

Then she charged.

She charged, but not at the beringel. While she had little doubt that she could kill the creature, she was less certain of her ability to kill it quickly, and to become bogged down in any single battle here would put her in a deal of trouble, even with all the support that Penny was providing as her lasers lanced out of the dark to pierce the grimm from flank and rear.

So she feinted towards the beringel only to dart away, throwing Miló before her to hit an ursa squarely in the chest. Her single stroke was not enough to slay it, but she did knock it onto its hind legs so that she could leap over it.

Her right hand was wreathed on the black outline of Polarity as she spun her spear in a wide ring all around her, keeping the grimm at bay.

The beringel roared in frustration; it threw more things at her: more hapless beowolves who howled as they sailed through the air or else stones ripped from the courtyard and hurled at Pyrrha, who had her work cut out swaying and skidding and dodging the array of missiles flung her way.

"PYRRHA!" Jaune yelled, his voice cutting through the darkness. "I MADE IT!"

A smile crossed Pyrrha's face as she took a beowolf's charge upon her shield and flung the grimm up and over her head.

She did not stop to slay the grimm; she left it behind as she ran, slashing her spear as she went to keep the grimm at bay, for one of the supporting pillars that rose out of the ground before angling towards the tower itself.

Pyrrha didn't know if they served some greater than artistic function; it didn't much matter at this stage.

She slew two beowolves who tried to stand before her and was grateful to Penny for several laser bolts that finished off an ursa before she had to confront it, and then she threw Akoúo̱ outwards and upwards towards the pillar.

Pyrrha leapt after it, only to be interrupted in mid-leap by a beowolf flung her way by the beringel. It did not hit — Pyrrha twisted in mud air like a salmon leaping from the river — but she fumbled her grasp at Akoúo̱ and landed down upon the ground again.

The beringel huffed and slammed its fists into the ground in quick succession like a drumbeat, shattering the stones beneath its knuckles.

A volley of laser bolts slammed into the beringel's back. The grimm gave a hostile growl as it turned in Penny's direction.

Pyrrha leapt upright and leapt again, summoning Akoúo̱ back down towards her so that she could grab it by the lip with one hand. With a heave, she pulled herself up, kicking a beowolf in the snarling skull when it sought to leap after her, and planted her legs upon her shield and used it as the platform for a further leap, where she jammed Miló into the high metal pillar and hung there by one hand.

She summoned Akoúo̱ back to her and slung it across her back.

Pyrrha was high above the grimm now, the beowolves scrambling about below, trying to climb up after but not having much success. The beringels, with their fondness for throwing things, presented much more difficulty, but Pyrrha didn't intend to be here for long.

"Penny!" Pyrrha shouted. "Don't use your semblance!"

Hopefully, Penny heard and understood, but Pyrrha had no time to wait for an answer as several grimm were already advancing in Penny's direction, including the beowolf-tossing beringel.

Pyrrha stretched out her free hand, wreathed in Polarity, and closed the hand of her semblance around Penny.

Penny did not resist with Freedom, that was very good. Rather, she folded up Floating Array behind her as Pyrrha lifted her through the air, over the heads of the grimm, and swung her around the tower and set her down out of Pyrrha's sight, but what she thought must be before the doors.

Pyrrha kicked off her lofty purchase, pulling Miló free of where she had rammed it, turning as she fell to land on her feet, for all that the impact jarred up her legs and jarred her aura, too.

Then she ran, ignoring the grimm who started to pursue her except inasmuch as she sought to get away from them. She ran, and her sash waved in the faces of her pursuers like an invitation as it fluttered behind her, the object of many snapping jaws as grimm ran hard upon her heels.

Pyrrha saw Penny waiting in the open doorway as she rounded the curve of the tower, and Penny once more gave her some covering fire, bolts flying past Pyrrha's face in both directions as she sounded up the steps.

Penny retreated moments before Pyrrha leapt through the open doorway.

Jaune slammed the doors shut behind her.

Pyrrha expected to hear beringel fists pounding upon the door, to hear the scratching of beowolf claws upon it, but she didn't. She heard nothing, not a pound or scratch or growl or roar.

It seemed that, once more, whatever power kept the grimm at bay from the tower had taken hold and offered them sanctuary.

"I don't understand," Pyrrha murmured. "Why don't they try to follow?"

"Maybe," Jaune began. "Maybe they don't want to provoke Ozpin?"

"The school is under attack; how much more provocation is needed?" asked Pyrrha.

"I don't know," Penny said. "But maybe we should be glad that we knew just where to find him?"

She was clutching at her chest with one hand, as though she were suffering from heartburn — or a heart attack.

Pyrrha frowned. "Penny, are you alright?"

Penny smiled, but it was a smile possessed of a slightly wan quality. "I'll be fine, but … well … no, no, it's fine, it's nothing."

"It does not sound fine or nothing," Pyrrha pointed out.

Penny hesitated. "Well … when you use your semblance on me, it… it hurts. In my chest."

"Penny!" Pyrrha cried. She started to reach out for Penny, then drew back, fearing to compound the offence. "Penny, I'm so sorry, I had no idea." Though with hindsight, she supposed that she ought to have done: magnets and computers did not mix, after all. The thought of what kind of damage she could have done to Penny, of what kind of damage she might have already done, it chilled her stomach just to contemplate it. "I will do better from now on, you have my word."

"This is why I didn't want to tell you," Penny said. "I didn't want you to feel guilty or start treating me differently—"

"Have I not already been treating you differently by using my semblance on you simply because your body is made of metal?" Pyrrha asked.

"But I know why you did it," Penny replied. "And I would have had a hard time getting across the square otherwise." She smiled. "My legs aren't as long as yours. And with my semblance, I can always stop you if it gets too bad."

"I suppose that's all true," Pyrrha allowed. "But nonetheless, I'll try to be more careful and considerate in future."

"Speaking of using your semblance," Jaune said, "how's your aura?"

"I … suppose that I did make rather a lot of use of it out there," Pyrrha admitted. "Can you spare your own aura?"

"Yeah, I'm good," Jaune replied confidently.

"Are you sure?"

"If you can hear a plan that uses you as the bait, I can decide whether or not I have enough aura left, don't you think?" Jaune pointed out.

"Yes, yes, that seems fair," Pyrrha admitted. "But perhaps that should wait until we're in the elevator and on our way up to see Professor Ozpin."

Pyrrha bent down and picked up Ruby off the floor, where Jaune must have placed her when he got inside. She had not woken, she had not stirred, there was no sign that any of the night's alarms had disturbed her sleep in any way. She looked completely placid and utterly lost to the waking world.

Pyrrha hoped she was at least having pleasant dreams.

The CCT was empty apart from the four of them, which was at once both surprising and utterly unsurprising; unsurprising that the tower was not a buzzing hive of activity, with grimm right outside and everything going on, but at the same time, Pyrrha found herself a little surprised that nobody, not a single soul, had fled here to take refuge. Surely, so notable a landmark as the CCT would be a magnet for the fearful?

Unless they had all taken the elevator up to one of the higher floors, fearing that the lobby was too vulnerable to the grimm?

That would make sense.

In any case, they had the lobby to themselves; the soft green lights, never bright but not dimmed by the battle either, enveloped them. Combined with the lack of noise from the grimm outside, it was almost as if, by stepping through those incongruously wooden-looking doors, they had somehow been transported to a different world, safer and more peaceful.

They walked quickly across that more peaceful world to reach the elevator, climbing inside, where Penny pushed the button to take them all the way up to Professor Ozpin's office.

As the elevator ground upwards — the sloth of its movement seemed less forgivable now than it had been; Pyrrha was tempted to give it a shove with her semblance but feared that she might break it in the process — Jaune placed his hands on both their shoulders, and the light of his semblance embraced them both.

The warm light engulfed Pyrrha, the prickly but pleasant sensation tickling her skin like a shower washing over her. Jaune's semblance, the feel of it, the warmth, the comfort, the feeling of both a reviving shower and a comfortable blanket all at the same time, it always made Pyrrha feel so much better.

And yet, in the instance, even Jaune's semblance could not wash away all tension from her, nor stop it returning as he took his hands off her and Penny both. There was just a little too much for him to relieve her of it all, from the fate of Ruby sleeping in her arms to the fact of Amber's treachery — which she had known of and ignored — to what Amber might be doing or might plan to do next.

There was simply too much to be unhappy of, too much even for a shower of renewing light to take away.

The elevator stopped, and the door opened with a grinding sound.

They stepped out into Professor Ozpin's office. It was dark, as it so often was, but seemed even more dark than usual; at night, there was usually some kind of light, something coming from the desk which illuminated the headmaster, if no one and nothing else, and illuminated Professor Ozpin's work for him as he burned the midnight dust. Now, there was nothing, no light save only the light of the moon outside, and the stars where they were not interrupted by clouds or airships or grimm. The lights of the Emerald Tower burned yet, visible from without, but it seemed that within, they had no light to guide them.

The moonlight fell upon Professor Ozpin, making his white hair gleam in the darkness; he had his back to them, looking out of the window. Pyrrha thought that he could see the docks from there; was he looking down to see Yang and her company fighting to hold the docking pads?

Pyrrha half-hoped, half-feared to see it herself as she walked further into the office, closer to the headmaster's desk, closer to the headmaster, passing beneath the shadows of the grinding gears.

Professor Ozpin gave no acknowledgement, no sign that he was aware of them. He was as still as any statue, his eyes fixed upon whatever it was that he beheld out of the window that so preoccupied him.

"Professor?" Penny asked tremulously. "Professor Ozpin?"

Professor Ozpin looked up, whirling around to face them. "Miss Polendina, Miss … what are you doing here, you should— Miss Rose?!"

He strode towards them, marching past his desk to bear down on Pyrrha. He stood over her, and over Ruby where she lay in Pyrrha's arms. He put one hand upon her forehead. "What happened to her?" He looked up, and looked around. "Where is Amber? Is she safe? Why didn't you bring her with you?"

"Professor…" Penny began, but trailed off.

"Professor Ozpin…" Pyrrha murmured, but found that she, too, was unable to speak further. It had to be done, it had to be said, he had to be told, but … but it was a hard thing to say, to tell. It was very hard indeed. Hard to know where to start.

Hard to know how to do it gently, if it was possible to do it gently at all.

Professor Ozpin looked from Pyrrha to Penny, to Jaune, then back to Pyrrha. "Well?" he said impatiently. "One of you, speak. Where is she, what has…?" He paused, and swallowed. His face, which was never a great fount of colour, paled. "No," he whispered, taking a step backwards. "No, no, say not that she has—"

"I don't think so, Professor," Pyrrha said quickly. "We don't think so, but … but … but we … I fear that Cinder may have been correct."

"'Cinder'?" Professor Ozpin repeated, as though Pyrrha had just said the most stupid thing that he had ever heard in all his years of teaching. "'Cinder'? Miss Fall, what do you…?" He trailed off. He straightened somewhat, his shadow seeming to lengthen in the moonlight as he pushed his spectacles up his nose. His voice, when it came next, was calmer than it had been, and colder too, as cold as the air up in this lofty tower. "I advise you not to explain yourself, Miss Nikos."

"We found Ruby like this, in our dorm room," Pyrrha explained. "With no sign of Amber or Dove. Professor, you must know what Amber's semblance is."

"Correlation is not proof, Miss Nikos; I'm disappointed that I need to point that out to you."

"I like this no better than you—"

"I doubt that, Miss Nikos."

"But Cinder—"

"I will not take the word of that slithering serpent over my own child!" Professor Ozpin shouted. "Bad enough I must give credence to her hissing when it comes to a trusted friend and colleague of many years, but Amber? A girl I have known all her life, someone I have watched grow and blossom into … no. No, I will not. I will not countenance it. I will not stoop so low; I will not debase myself, nor disgrace Amber by suspicion."

He turned away from them. "In the whole history of this circle, no Maiden has ever succumbed to the allure of the darkness. They have been hunted, they have been murdered for their powers, but none have ever fallen."

"Pallas Kommenos, Professor," Pyrrha said, taking a step forward, closer towards him. "The Empress' childhood companion, her favourite, some suggest even her lover. Bearer of Soteria. When another Red Queen arose in Mistral, to whom did the Empress turn but to her most loyal servant, to take her black sword and warriors beneath the Imperial standard to put this monster down before she could wreak the havoc of her predecessor? And Pallas went and struck down that latest Red Queen, splitting her head open with Soteria. And the moment that the power passed to her, the Maiden's power, she proclaimed herself the Empress of Mistral and bid all her warriors bow down before her or die."

"She was not a true Maiden," Professor Ozpin replied sharply. "She came by the power in blood, as all the other unworthy and false usurpers of that era did; she was not chosen through the proper line of succession."

"No one likes the fact that we have to think this," Jaune insisted. "It … it shouldn't be easy, to suspect your friends … or the people you care about." He looked away. "But … but it makes sense, with the way we found Ruby, with the fact that Amber was gone—"

"There could be other explanations."

"We thought the same thing, when Pyrrha told us," Penny declared. "Neither Jaune nor I wanted to believe it. I understand why you and Pyrrha and Sunset didn't believe it either, but … what else could put Ruby to sleep like that? Why won't she wake up?"

"She might have used her silver eyes," Professor Ozpin pointed out. "The last time rendered her comatose."

"And we carried her to safety, Professor; why wouldn't Amber and Dove do the same?" Pyrrha asked. She paused. "When Cinder told us that Amber had betrayed us to Salem, we didn't want to believe her. We thought that she was lying, Sunset directly accused her of it—"

"She had no proof," Professor Ozpin pointed out.

"But what motive did she have to lie to us?" Pyrrha asked. "With … with our minds unclouded by our affection for Amber, or at least a little less clouded, surely, Cinder would have to know that she wouldn't be believed. What purpose did it serve other than to cast doubt on the rest of her story?"

Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. "You think … you think that Amber used her semblance to send Miss Rose to sleep so that she could steal away unnoticed?" he asked softly.

"Yes, Professor," Pyrrha replied, her voice equally soft, if not softer.

"You believe that … that she…" Professor Ozpin seemed to age before her eyes, the lines on his face deepening, his shadow diminishing, shrinking away from her. "That she has betrayed us. Betrayed … me."

Pyrrha swallowed. "I fear so, Professor."

Professor Ozpin looked down at the floor. "Sharper than a serpent's tooth," he murmured. Again, he pushed his glasses up his nose; this time, his hand shook as he raised it. "Was she really so unhappy? Did she truly hate me so? Did I use her so ill?"

You bestowed a cruel fate upon her, a fate that she could not escape, save by death or treason. You asked much of her. She thought about what Sunset had said, about how, in her world, great power was only bestowed after one had proven themselves worthy of it. It is a pity that Amber was not given the chance to prove herself unworthy before the power and the responsibility were thrust upon her.

"Everyone wants to be free," Penny said quietly. "At least, I think they do. I know I did. And Amber never wanted this, never wanted any part in this. She didn't choose it. She just wanted to be free, she wants to be free, and I understand why, because freedom … freedom is the most wonderful gift in the world; it's the thing that makes everything else worthwhile." She paused. "But I also don't think it's your fault, Professor. I don't think you should blame yourself. Because if Amber wants to be free, then … then that means that she has to take responsibility for her own choices; she can't ask anyone else to take them on for her."

That was well said, in Pyrrha's opinion, but if it gave Professor Ozpin any comfort, he did not show it. He walked away— no, he did not walk; rather, he slouched away with slumped shoulders and a crooked back, slouching towards his desk, where he placed his hands and leaned against the glass surface with his head bowed.

"Is there anything that you can do for Ruby?" Jaune asked. "Can you … break Amber's semblance?"

"No," Professor Ozpin replied, his voice tired, the word drawn out with weariness. "It may be that Miss Rose herself can do that, if she wishes to, but I cannot, save by breaking Amber's aura." He paused. "But you may leave her here; I think she will be safe enough."

Jaune looked at Pyrrha. His mouth was fixed in a sort of wincing expression, one side open and square, the other tighter and more narrow. He did not look, to say the least, as though he found Professor Ozpin's assurance very reassuring. But what choice did they have? Take Ruby with them? Into battle? No, no, in this, if nothing else, Professor Ozpin was right. She would be safer here.

"Thank you, Professor," Pyrrha said, setting Ruby gently down in the centre of the room. Kneeling, she fussed a little with Ruby's cape until it was draped across her torso like a blanket.

Though I know you wouldn't wish to be sleeping, Ruby, I really do hope you're having pleasant dreams.

It would be as well that someone is having a good night.

"What should we do now, Professor?" Penny asked.

Professor Ozpin mumbled something indistinct.

"Professor?" Penny repeated, taking a step forward. "Should … should we go to the Vault and guard the Relic?"

"Why should you listen to me?" Professor Ozpin mumbled, just loud enough for them to hear it.

"Because…" Penny looked helplessly to Pyrrha and Jaune. "Because you're our leader."

"A leader?" Professor Ozpin chuckled darkly. "Yes, and I have led so well. I have led so well that my friends and comrades, my most beloved betray me, that all my designs and good intentions turn to ash, that my own school is under attack."

"Yes, Professor, it is," Pyrrha said, getting up from off her knees. "What are you doing about it?"

Jaune looked around at her, eyes wide.

In the circumstances, I hope I can be forgiven for coming on strongly, Pyrrha thought.

"What can I do, Miss Nikos?" Professor Ozpin asked. "When there is no one I can trust to obey any commands that I might give?"

"You can trust us," Penny said.

Professor Ozpin glanced at her over his shoulder. "Can I?" he asked, a mixture of scepticism and, worse, mockery in his voice.

He is a broken man, Pyrrha thought. This news of Amber, it has undone him.

I fear that he was creaking even before we brought the news, else why should he sit here like this, marooned in his tower while the very survival of Beacon hangs by a thread?

Professor Ozpin turned away. "General Ironwood has the command," he declared. "Seek there for orders; ask him what he would have you do. All things are in his hands now."

Pyrrha, Jaune, and Penny looked at one another.

I'm glad that the tower itself seems to be keeping grimm at bay, for I might not trust Professor Ozpin here with Ruby.

Pyrrha bowed her head. "Yes, Professor."

XxXxX
​

The picture is by Pao

 

[ScipioSmith]

Against Such a Moment

​

"We … we did the right thing, didn't we?" Penny asked. "Telling Professor Ozpin about Amber?"

"Yeah," Jaune said at once. "Yeah, of course. He needed to know. What were we supposed to do, keep it from him?"

"I suppose not," Penny murmured. She clasped her hands together in front of her and looked down at them, rubbing them together a little as she did so. "But he seemed so … so sad. When he believed it, anyway."

"More than sad," Jaune said. "More like … broken."

"His child," Pyrrha whispered.

"Pyrrha?" Jaune asked.

"He called her his child," Pyrrha repeated. "He loved her. He truly loved her, for all that he … used her ill, it was not out of malice in his heart."

"He loved her, but he made her a Maiden, painted a target on her back, made a normal life for her impossible?" Jaune asked. "Some love."

"Parents do not always act in the way that their children would wish," Pyrrha said. "They do not always restrain themselves from putting their own desires and ambitions ahead of those of their children. But it doesn't mean that there isn't love there, although it may sometimes seem that way to the child. As it seemed to Amber herself."

"But just because a parent loves their daughter, it doesn't make them right or mean that they have to be forgiven for the mistakes that they've made," Penny replied. "It doesn't mean that the child isn't right to try and find their own path, to want their freedom."

"At what cost?" asked Pyrrha. She looked at Penny. "Your freedom costs nothing, except perhaps some lien to Atlas and a little embarrassment to General Ironwood. Amber's freedom may cost … a great deal."

Penny nodded. "All the same, I … I don't know if I really want to fight Amber." She frowned. "No, that's not right; I do know: I don't want to fight Amber. I liked her; she was nice. I don't want her to be my enemy."

"No one wants Amber to be our enemy," Jaune said. "But she's chosen to be our enemy. That's what she's decided, that's what she was willing to do, to be free. She's not you; she didn't just decide to follow a dream no matter where it took her and Professor Ozpin and we don't agree with what her dream is. She isn't even me; I could have put people in danger—"

"Jaune," Pyrrha began.

Jaune ploughed on. "But I didn't set out to hurt anyone. Amber deliberately used her semblance on Ruby and left her there, and she would have been killed if we hadn't showed up when we did. Now, I hope that Amber didn't think she was leaving Ruby to get eaten by the grimm, but she obviously didn't care that much. Maybe she never cared about any of us at all."

"I think you do her wrong, to go so far," Pyrrha said softly. "I think that she cared, or at least, I think that the affection that Amber showed to us was genuine. It was simply outweighed by other considerations."

Penny nodded. "I suppose. But I still don't want to fight her. I mean, if we fight her, are we supposed to kill her? Is that what we're going to have to do?"

There was a moment of silence within the elevator, with only the ambient sound of the lift itself grinding its way down the high tower to disturb them.

Pyrrha might have welcomed more sound than that, in truth; she did not want to consider what Penny had said, although it doubtless had to be considered. Killing Amber. Amber's blood upon her hands.

She had never killed anyone before. Or rather … that was probably not strictly true; there had been deaths in battles in which she had taken part, most notably the White Fang during the fight in the tunnel under Mountain Glenn. Just because she hadn't seen the light leave anybody's eyes, just because she hadn't seen their blood upon the edge of Miló, could she really say that she hadn't been responsible for anyone's deaths?

No, no, in all honesty, she could not, but she did not feel responsible, if that made any sense at all; she did not feel as though she had taken life, she did not feel as though she had passed that watershed. It might be an intellectual falsehood, but it did not alter her conscience.

But if she killed Amber, even if she took part in a battle and Amber was dead at the end of the battle although it was technically Penny or Jaune who had struck the final blow, nevertheless, Pyrrha would feel partially responsible. She would feel it in ways that she currently did not.

Pyrrha had always known that it might be necessary to take life in battle — the great stories of Mistral's heroic past were far from bloodless affairs, after all; at times, there were so many slain that rivers were choked with the dead — but to have her first kill, or what felt like her first kill, be someone whom Pyrrha had considered a friend, for all that that friend had betrayed them?

It did not make the prospect any easier to contemplate.

Some deaths would have been easier to look to; some people would have been easier to kill. Pyrrha felt as though she might have killed Cinder gladly at one point, although when the opportunity had finally been within her grasp, she had shrank from it, preferring to hide behind the Valish law and the proper procedures of the kingdom in which she was a guest. Even Cinder, someone who was Pyrrha's enemy, but someone she had fought beside, someone to whom she owed all their lives, had proven difficult in the end.

Pyrrha did not owe Amber her life, but she was a friend.

I suppose what I'm saying is that I would prefer to kill a stranger, someone I did not know and was in no way connected with.

Which I've probably already done, not that it helps to consider taking Amber's life.

The thought of Amber's blood upon her blade, of Amber's eyes looking up at Pyrrha as the light left them, of Amber's face — that sweet, scarred face — slowly going rigid, it wracked Pyrrha's body with a shudder.

Jaune gripped the hilt of Crocea Mors with one hand. "It isn't, or it shouldn't be, easy to … to take a life. And I'm not going to tell you that it'll be fine if we have to … to kill Amber. It won't be. It shouldn't be. But at the same time, it can be, with help, like Professor Goodwitch helped me after our mission at the start of second semester. And what choice do we have? Amber's our enemy now, and we think she's going to give the Relic to Salem. What choice do we have but to fight her with everything we have?"

"If we kill Amber, then all the Fall Maiden's power will pass to Cinder," Pyrrha pointed out.

"And Cinder doesn't know where the Relic is, so we might be better off that way than we are now," Jaune replied. "And anyway, we don't know that's what will happen. That's what Ozpin was afraid would happen, which is why he wanted to transfer the powers to you with that machine, but he didn't know for sure. This has never happened before. For all we know, Amber's half of the powers would go to you or Penny."

If either of us would want them, Pyrrha thought. After all, she could understand why the power of the Fall Maiden having been forced upon her had driven Amber to betray Professor Ozpin and everyone else. It was a heavy burden, to be sure.

Heavy, but at the same time, not without honour; a burden, but at the same time, a great privilege if one desired it. To be chosen was to be thought well of, to possess it was to have many great examples to live up to — and some less praiseworthy examples to avoid — and although it cast one into a great and everlasting struggle, that was less of a hardship if one was already committed to such a struggle, albeit in a different form.

Did Pyrrha desire the power? Not at any cost, no, but would she pick it up if it lay by the wayside, with her eyes open and in full knowledge of what it would entail? Yes. Yes, she would.

Would she pick them up at the cost of Amber's life? Amber might have her own opinions on that particular question, opinions which would carry as much weight as Pyrrha's own.

Falling leaves. Autumn leaves falling like rain.

Amber dreamt last night she dined with Professor Ozpin, and how likely is that now? Amber and I both had a bit of supper go down the wrong way, that's all.

But I dreamt that I would triumph in the tournament, and I did.

And then I dreamt that I would offer up all my glories in sacrifice to the Fall Maiden.

Pyrrha felt a chill in her heart; she had thought, if the dream meant anything, that it must mean Cinder was fated to be her destroyer, and so she had taken comfort from the knowledge that Cinder had been defeated and caged. She had never considered that it might be Amber that she dreamt of, that Amber might be the one fated to defeat her.

Amber was not without some skill, although Pyrrha would have said, not unkindly but nevertheless, that Amber lacked the heart to use her skill to its fullest. Had she been but Amber, then Pyrrha would not have feared the skill that she possessed — she might be more technically proficient than Cinder, she appeared on Pyrrha's brief examination to have been better trained, but while Cinder fought with a wild abandon that would do discredit to a gutter thug, she also fight with a tiger's heart and a ferocity that animated her natural speed and strength — but the fact was that she was not just Amber. She was also the Fall Maiden, possessed of great magical power.

Maidens have been defeated before, for good or ill.

And we have beaten Cinder when she deigned to use her powers.

But Sunset was with us then, and Ruby.

Shorn of those allies and facing an enemy who was not alone — for they must expect at least Dove to be with her — would the three of them be sufficient?

Pyrrha looked at them, Jaune and Penny, her companions in the elevator and her companions in battle.

Her love and her dear friend besides.

Let me not mourn that I do not go into battle alongside all that I might wish; let me rather rejoice that I do not go into battle alone, but with some of those most dear to me.

Alright, Weiss, I will concede it: I really am very fortunate indeed.

The corners of her lips turned upwards in a smile.

Jaune must have caught it out of the corner of his eye, for he said, "A fine time to smile, Pyrrha."

His tone was light, but Pyrrha felt reproached nevertheless, and justly so. "I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I was just…"

"What?" asked Penny.

"It's nothing, really."

"I don't think you'd smile at nothing," Penny pointed out. "Not now."

Pyrrha sighed. "I was just thinking that, if we must face Amber, to whatever outcome, then I'm glad we'll be doing it together. I was thinking that, instead of regretting that not everyone is with us whom we might like, we should be grateful that some of us we would want are here."

She felt Jaune's hand slip into hers, their fingers interlocking.

"I guess you're right," Penny said. "I wouldn't want to do any of this without you, all on my own. But maybe we won't have to fight Amber; maybe General Ironwood will tell us to do something else."

"General Ironwood shouldn't be the one telling us what to do," Jaune muttered. "Ozpin should."

Penny blinked. "I thought you didn't like Professor Ozpin very much."

"I'm not crazy about the guy, not anymore, but he's still supposed to be in charge!" Jaune declared, his grip on Pyrrha's hand tightening just a little. "He's the headmaster and the leader of this fight against Salem; where does he get off just standing up there, staring out the window, telling us to go and talk to General Ironwood as though he doesn't give a damn anymore?"

"I think he's upset," Penny pointed out.

"We're all pretty upset," Jaune replied. "But you don't see us moping around!"

The elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened upon the lobby, with its soft green lights and otherworldly, all-too-peaceful feel.

There was still no sound from the grimm outside. Assuming that they were still outside, but it would be foolish to imagine they had gone.

"Whatever else we do," Pyrrha said, "our first task will be to fight our way out of this tower."

"But we should talk to General Ironwood first," Penny said, getting out her scroll, "and ask him what we should do. I hope he's not too busy to answer."

"He needs to know about Amber," Pyrrha said. "Especially since Professor Ozpin seems … no longer capable of doing anything at present."

Penny nodded as she opened up her scroll; her finger flicked across the screen, tapping lightly here and there like a dancer leaping across the floor. She pulled back her hand, closing it into a fist as she waited.

It was not a long wait before they all heard General Ironwood's voice.

"Penny?" he said. "Is something wrong?"

"Y-yes, sir, it is," Penny said. "I'm afraid that it looks like what Cinder told us about Amber is true."

There was silence on the other end of the line. Pyrrha wondered if General Ironwood would be as sceptical about that as Professor Ozpin had been.

"And what makes you think that, Penny?" General Ironwood asked calmly.

"We found Ruby unconscious in our dorm room," Penny said. "It looked like Amber's semblance had put her to sleep."

Again, silence, or at least a pause from the general, before he said. "I see. That's … unfortunate, but it's also more Professor Ozpin's business than mine. You should inform him and—"

"We did inform him, sir," Penny said quickly. "But he told us that you were in charge and that we should ask you for our orders."

"Did he?" General Ironwood asked, in a curt tone. "Is that all?"

"Um … he was quite upset, sir," Penny said softly.

Once more, a silence. Seconds passed. General Ironwood said, "You say 'we'; are Miss Nikos and Mister Arc with you?"

"Yes, sir."

"And Miss Rose?"

"Still unconscious, sir," Penny said. "We left her with Professor Ozpin."

"Understood," General Ironwood. "Make a cursory search of the grounds for Amber and any confederates; if you can't find her in the school, or if you find evidence that she has left the school, then join the defence of the evacuees. Present yourselves to Dash for more detailed instructions. I'm afraid we can't afford to have a good team standing idle under the present circumstances; we need everyone on the dancefloor now."

"Yes, sir," Penny said. "I understand."

"Good luck," General Ironwood said, although what he might consider good luck — finding Amber, or not finding her — he did not say. "Ironwood out."

Penny snapped her scroll shut and put it away. "Do you think we should go to the Vault first? Check if Amber did go to get the Relic?"

"If she went to get the Relic straight away, then we're already too late," Jaune replied. "And besides, would she go there first thing?"

"When better?" Pyrrha asked. "In the chaos of the battle, she could slip away unnoticed."

"Or she could get caught, and there'd be a lot of people around to try and stop her," Jaune replied.

"Why would the grimm attack the school, if not to provide cover for Amber's escape and theft of the Relic?" asked Pyrrha.

"Her escape, yes," Jaune said. "I think that's why, so that she could slip away from everyone while they were preoccupied, but the Relic? If Amber went back to the Vault for it now, then she'd have to leave through the middle of the battle; it's a big risk. I think … I think we should check Benni Havens' for her; it sits right by the exit, if Amber left Beacon, then someone might have seen her, and if they haven't, we can ask Benni to keep an eye out for her while we search the rest of the school, or as much as the grimm will let us."

"That makes sense," Penny said, nodding her head up and down. "Okay, we'll go there first."

"Second," Pyrrha murmured. "First, we need to get out of this tower."

"Right," Penny agreed. "But since we have a job to do, we'll try and cut through them and get away. They might not follow us away from the tower, the same way they didn't follow us inside."

"What do you think they're doing?" Jaune asked. "They don't seem to want people getting in, but once they're in, then they won't follow them?"

"If they destroyed the tower, it would be catastrophic," Pyrrha murmured. "The kingdoms would lose the ability to communicate with one another. Perhaps … perhaps Salem appreciates having the ability to communicate with her agents in the field."

"She could use that grimm thing from Mountain Glenn, right?" Jaune asked.

Pyrrha shuddered at the memory. "Perhaps her servants find that as unpleasant as we did, and she does not like to burden them unduly."

"I suppose it doesn't matter why they do all the things that they do," Penny said. "It only matters what they do. Pyrrha, will you go first out the door, then Jaune, and I'll bring up the rear." Floating Array emerged out from behind her but did not spread out; Penny kept the blades tight together, presumably so they would fit through the door.

"Of course," Pyrrha said, pulling Miló and Akoúo̱ over her shoulders. Miló was in spear form, and she drew it back as she approached the door.

She could hear Jaune draw Crocea Mors behind her and heard his scabbard click as it unfurled into his shield.

"Is everyone ready?" Pyrrha asked.

"I'm ready," Jaune said.

"Combat ready," declared Penny.

"Very well then," Pyrrha said and pushed the button beside the door to unlock it.

She wrenched the door open with a touch of Polarity and burst through, with Jaune and Penny hard on her heels.

The grimm were still there, and at least some of them were watching the doors, because as soon as the three came out, a warning howl sounded through the air.

The grimm drew back. They did more than draw back; they parted, opening a channel through their midst, a clear and unobstructed route out of the square.

The beringel who had been so eager to throw things at Pyrrha gestured to that same open channel, making a snuffling sound as he did so.

Pyrrha stood still, and felt the others doing likewise behind her. She wasn't quite sure what was happening. Or rather, she was sure what was happening but couldn't make any sense out of it. It was one thing to say that the grimm might not pursue them away from the tower, but another to not even try to attack them around the tower.

And yet, they did not. The grimm were silent, not a roar or a growl or a snarl to be heard. They all watched the huntsman and huntresses, their red eyes gleaming in the darkness, but not a single one made any move towards them.

Will they be so placid under attack? Pyrrha thought.

Penny must have had the same thought, because she stepped away from Jaune and Pyrrha so that she had a clear shot at the beringel. Her swords, the blades folded into their laser configuration, assembled in front of her chest and began to charge, a green glow brightening at the tips of each carbine.

The beringel grabbed a beowolf, which yelped as the bigger grimm threw it at Penny. Pyrrha leapt on her — using her body instead of her semblance — and shoved Penny aside, bearing them both to the ground as the beowolf flew over them and struck the tower wall with a thump.

Jaune stepped quickly forward and finished it off before it could get up.

The beringel grunted insistently as it once more gestured towards the open path and away from the square.

Pyrrha got up. "What should we do?"

Penny, likewise, got to her feet. "If they're not going to stop us, then we should just leave; we'd just be wasting time if we started a fight."

"Alright," Pyrrha agreed quietly, but she kept her weapons in her hands, and Akoúo̱ in particular raised to ward off any approaching blow as she led the way.

The path was not wide at any point, and the grimm who lined the path were never far away. The beowolves, sat upon their haunches, followed the three with their gazes, heads turning as they passed by. Pyrrha could hear them sniffing at the air.

But they did not bark or growl or bare their teeth more than fangs were already bared by the absence of lips. They simply watched, a whole assembly of silent grimm watching them.

It felt like flight. It didn't matter how Pyrrha tried to keep her back straight, her head up, it didn't matter how she tried to walk so that her sash would sway proudly back and forth at her side, it still felt like running away. And the closer they got to the end of the path, the more grimm were behind them than ahead, the more it felt like flight, like they were running away with their tails between their legs.

Perhaps they were.

But if they were, at least they were running towards something.

XxXxX​

Rainbow blasted the last beowolf in the face with Undying Loyalty, then looked around to check that it really was the last beowolf.

Satisfied that it was, for now, she started reloading.

After only a short while, the grimm's strategy had become clearer: they were not trying to break through, but rather grind through. In the centre, and on the right — because they had lapped around the courtyard and were coming at the docks from the side — there had been no mass attack, only a succession of small scale, piecemeal assaults, as small groups of grimm assailed parts of the defence: a pack of beowolves had tried to get into the dorm rooms, clawing their way into or up the building; a trio of ursae had been found and killed in the amphitheatre, only for four more of them to show up and try to retake the building; a group of creeps had come up out of the ground between the courtyard and the fairgrounds; an ursa major had led a mixed group of grimm into the dining hall just as another group of beowolves had flanked around the building to come at the courtyard itself; griffons had swooped down on the docking pads and the road between there and the courtyard. At first, Rainbow had thought that these small attacks, none of them huge in number, all of them repulsed, had been reconnaissance in force by the grimm trying to work out the enemy strength and deployment. She had expected that, having done that, the grimm would then concentrate their assault on one particular spot, the spot that they believed to be the weakness of the line.

Well, they were doing that, but not in the centre or on the right, no, the piecemeal attacks were the point; they were constant nibbles at the huntsmen and huntresses lined up against them, incessant bites that didn't take huge chunks out of the huntsmen, but were making them bleed a little bit at a time. Nobody had died, but they had had aura breaks and injuries: Team ABRN had lost Nadir Shiko with his aura broken and a nasty set of claw marks across his chest; Sabine's aura had been broken too, but being a stubborn ass, Sabine was refusing to go anywhere and was staying with her team; Yatsuhashi, the big guy from Team CFVY, had taken a nasty blow to the head. Rainbow had sent the wounded and the aura-less to the docking pads — those that would go, Sabine — if they only had no aura, they could wait there for their aura to recharge or help with the defence in the last resort. If they were wounded, then they were getting on — or being carried on — an airship up to the Amity Arena, where a proper medical team had set up a triage centre, with flights to the medical frigate Comfort taking place for serious cases.

But even the aura breaks weakened the defence when the next assault came, no larger than the one before, but then it didn't need to be larger if the defence was weaker, and they certainly weren't giving the defenders a long respite between assaults. The individual attacks were small, but the tempo was rapid.

And all the while, the main assault on the left flank ground forwards.

As much as the grimm might want or hope to bleed the centre and right so much that they collapsed, it was on the left that they had concentrated their forces, and they were continually pushing forwards into the fairgrounds, while Violet continually asked for reinforcements to bolster the defence.

It wasn't all bad news, by any means: Yang had taken the docking pads and was holding them, meaning that the airships were landing and the evacuations were taking place. Frightened civilians; crying children; cosplayers of all ages; dishevelled tourists with wide eyes absent-mindedly holding onto souvenirs or candy floss as though they simply hadn't had time, in all the confusion, to think to drop them; they were all being passed from the fairgrounds to the courtyards and then on to the docking pads where the airships landed. Sometimes, the flow would stop, backing up where one part or other of the line came under attack as everyone became reluctant to get too close to the grimm; when the passage to the docking pad was assaulted, people would stay in the courtyard; when the courtyard was attacked, they built up in the space between there and the fairgrounds; then, when the attack was over, everyone would start to move again.

It was the advantage to the grimm's strategy; if they'd attacked everywhere at once, they could have paralysed the whole system or forced people to take their chances running the gauntlet of the grimm.

As it was, they were getting people off, but there were still people coming in from the fairgrounds even as the grimm pressed hard there, and a queue building up at the docking pads as people arrived faster than the airships could get them airborne.

Rainbow turned in the direction of the fairgrounds and shouted, "It's clear!" She waved with one hand for good measure.

After a short while, a group of people stumbled into the courtyard. There were eleven of them: three children and eight adults. One of the children had accessorised a Weiss Schnee snowflake T-shirt with a rainbow wig, thus proving that she had more sense than a fair few adults had possessed at the start of this tournament.

A woman with her pointed to Rainbow and Blake. "You see? There they are. It's just like I told you: they're going to save us, like they saved everyone at the mines."

"Keep moving," Rainbow instructed them. "Once you reach the docking pads, just wait patiently, and an airship will pick you up as soon as possible to take you up to the Amity Arena."

She turned her back on them as they shuffled along.

Rainbow took a step towards the plinth where the statue of the huntsman and huntress had once stood, or to where the statue of the beowolf now stood radically recontextualised, as Spearhead might have had it, by the absence of the rest of the piece, and said, "Violet, how much longer do you estimate before everyone's evacuated from the fairgrounds?"

"I don't know," Violet said sharply, her voice emerging out of Rainbow's scroll. "It's not like I can spare anyone to round people up."

"How bad is it?" asked Rainbow.

"We're being flanked," Violet said. "The grimm are curling around left of the fairgrounds and coming in from the side as well as in front; I'm worried they'll work their way fully around and we'll be mostly encircled. I need reinforcements."

Rainbow breathed in between her gritted teeth. Reinforcements. This wasn't the first time in the short battle that Violet had asked for reinforcements; the fairgrounds had become the maw that was devouring their strength. Yang's company had been stripped for parts in order to reinforce the fairgrounds, and Rainbow had sent what she could as well. Rainbow had been strengthened at first by huntsmen and teams coming in from other parts of the school, heading towards where they saw the airships land: Ditzy had come in, and Rainbow had sent her to the fairgrounds; she'd sent a Beacon team down there too, led by a guy named Jack, and others besides. Violet now commanded the greatest concentration of their forces, and it still wasn't enough.

And Rainbow was running out of reinforcements.

She looked around the courtyard. There was one team there, Beacon's Team ONYX, plus Blake, Ciel, Rarity, and Rainbow herself. The most that Rainbow could send from there would be Blake or Ciel.

"Yang," Rainbow said. "Can you—?"

"No!" Yang said firmly, almost shouting. "No, I cannot. I'm holding the docking pads with just me, Ren, and Nora; there is no one else!"

"Calm down, I had to check," Rainbow said. She exhaled.

Blake took a step towards her. Her mouth opened—

Rainbow held up one hand to stop her before she could say 'I'll go.' Rainbow might end up sending her anyway, but once she said it, then it would be difficult not to send her, and Rainbow kind of wanted to keep Blake in her back pocket in case of a real emergency — not that Violet didn't need assistance in the fairgrounds, but it didn't sound like the grimm had broken through yet.

Perhaps I should pull people out of the buildings and focus on a tighter defence of the courtyard?

Some of the arguments for occupying the outer buildings stood, most notably the fact that the grimm couldn't launch any sneak attacks on the courtyard from them, but against that was the fact that they weren't completely stopping the grimm from reaching the courtyard, even if they had to do it across more open ground, and they were tying up several good teams like WWSR who could otherwise have reinforced the fairgrounds. It was a balancing act, and Rainbow might have landed on the wrong side of the scales.

"Midnight," she said quietly. "Put me on mute and contact General Ironwood."

"Patching you through, Rainbow Dash," Midnight said. There was a brief pause before she huffed, "I feel like a secretary."

"What did you think you were going to be doing?" Rainbow demanded.

"I thought I'd be advising you as we stormed across maps to complete your objectives."

"You've been watching too many video game let's plays," Rainbow muttered. "Have you put me through yet?"

"Dash," General Ironwood said. "What's the situation?"

"We're holding sir, but it feels touch and go sometimes," Rainbow replied. "Sir, can you assign more air units to the interdiction effort? The grimm are still being reinforced and we're being stretched thin."

"It looks like the grimm are gearing up to hit Vale, Dash; I can't redeploy too much," General Ironwood replied. "But I'll find another squadron to support Guardian."

"Thank you, sir," Rainbow said. "I don't suppose you could find an infantry company and some more airships to speed up the evacuation as well?"

"I can drop some androids to support you, Dash; that's the best I can offer."

"I'll take that, sir," Rainbow said. I'd take anything at this stage. "Drop them in the fairgrounds; that's where the grimm are pushing hardest."

"I'll have them dispatched at once. How long until evacuations are complete?"

"Hard to say, sir; we haven't had a chance to take a headcount."

"The Knights should relieve enough pressure to assign someone to it," General Ironwood said. "We need to clear the school before we start bombing the grounds; I don't want any civilian casualties."

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir," Rainbow said. "Dash out." She paused. "Midnight, put me through to the other students again."

"Such a trying task," Midnight drawled. "Not. All done!"

"Violet," Rainbow said, without responding to Midnight's grumbling. "The Atlesians are about to start dropping Knights on your position; that should take some of the pressure off. And I'm going to contract the perimeter around the courtyard to free up more teams, but you have to get someone to do a run around the fairgrounds and round up all the strays; we need to get people out quicker; we can't just rely on them working out where to go."

"Okay," Violet said. "Once those robots turn up, and they'd better show up fast, I'll get someone on it."

"Have Ditzy do it; she's got a nice face," Rainbow suggested. "Did you hear that, Ditzy?"

"Yeah, that was really kind of you to say, Rainbow Dash," Ditzy declared. "I won't let you down!"

"Be on the lookout for any lost children; they might be hiding while they wait for their parents to come back," Rainbow advised. "Weiss, I need you to pull Team Wisteria back to the courtyard."

There was no response.

"Weiss, I need you to fall back to the courtyard, acknowledge."

Still no answer.

"Blake," Rainbow said. "Get to the main school building, find everyone, and get them out and back here on the double. And … save them, if they're in trouble."

XxXxX​

"So Amber already left?" Jaune asked.

Benni Haven nodded. "Yeah, she told me that she was scared, because of the battle, and her friends were escorting her away. Said that Professor Ozpin had told them to take care of her. I'm surprised that he didn't tell the three of you that." She paused. "Well, maybe not that surprised. He was always kinda … never the friendliest guy. I know he was the headmaster and I was just a student, but he never felt like someone you could approach, you know? I always went to Professor Goodwitch when I was in trouble."

"You say that Amber's friends were escorting her," Pyrrha said. "You mean Dove?"

"Dove, Lyra, Bon Bon," Benni said. "And someone else, too, someone I hadn't seen before. Tall, reddish hair all stuck up in a mohawk. Stuck up in other ways, too, looked like she had a smell under her nose."

"That sounds like Tempest Shadow from Team Tsunami!" Penny cried.

"Sounds like you know her," Benni observed mildly. "But yeah, they were all with Amber, and after we'd spoken and I'd given them a little something to eat, they took the road headed for Vale. I tried to tell them Vale wasn't any safer than Beacon right now, and that they were welcome to stay in here and wait with everyone else, but they wouldn't have it. I guess I can't blame her much; we're safe, but we're still kinda close to the grimm."

"Yes," Pyrrha murmured. "Are you sure that you're alright here? I mean, are you sure that you want to stay?"

Benni smiled wryly at her. "I've put everything I had into this business: my money, my time, my sweat, everything; since I quit hunting, this place has been my life. This is my place, with my name on it, and I'm not gonna let some beowolf chase me out of it without a fight! Without it, I'm just a washed up ex-huntress with one arm gone and nothing to her name." The tip of her tail curled inwards. "And anyway, I couldn't just leave all the pictures on the wall to get broken, trampled, chewed up. All my boys and girls deserve better than that."

Pyrrha thought of their own picture on the door, broken and trampled if not chewed up, and found that she could understand Benni's reasoning, whether it was correct or not. "You're a very brave woman."

"Nah, I'm just a small business owner; they teach this attitude in vocational training," Benni said lightly. She paused. "You know … you know what I'm afraid of? I'm afraid that when the morning comes, there'll be some more kids who are only remembered from the pictures on my wall. Like Sky."

Pyrrha didn't say anything. What was there to be said? It was a possibility, to be sure, and to deny it would have seemed naïve, patronising at worst. Benni knew the score as well as anyone, and probably better than some.

"I hope not," Penny said.

Benni snorted. "We all hope that, kid," she said, not unkindly. "I guess it's a relief that Amber got out when she did, huh? Something less for you to worry about?"

"Yeah," Jaune said. "That's right. Thanks for telling us."

"No problem," Benni said. "I'd offer you something, but I doubt you'd have time to eat it."

"No, I don't think they, I mean we, would," Penny replied. "It's very kind of you, but we should be going now."

"Come back when all this is over; I want to make sure you're still here," Benni said. "Give 'em hell out there."

"We'll do our best," Jaune promised.

Benni nodded, and there was a smile on her face as she stepped back inside her restaurant — she had just stepped out the door to speak to them — and closed the door behind her. The bell tinkled.

"You were right," Pyrrha said. "Amber did leave."

"With Bon Bon and Tempest Shadow," Jaune said. "So Cinder was right about all of them."

"Cinder didn't mention Lyra," Pyrrha pointed out.

"She didn't mention Dove either; he's doing it for love," Jaune replied. "Maybe Lyra's doing it for the same reason. Maybe they don't know what's really going on."

"Maybe," Penny agreed. "It doesn't matter now anyway. We've got our orders from General Ironwood: since Amber's gone, we need to find Rainbow Dash and see how we can help."

XxXxX​

The corridor was quiet.

Quieter than it had ever been on a school day when Team WWSR and their fellow students had moved with varying levels of speed and enthusiasm to their various classes. Whether they crawled along like slugs to Professor Port's Grimm Studies or walked with higher spirits to Doctor Oobleck's History class — Weiss had liked it, even if none of the rest of her teammates had — there had always been a certain level of ambient noise that came from the mixture of the chatter of the students, the sound of so many feet moving along the corridors in nothing that even approached unison. There were times when you got used to the noise, when you learned to tune it out, when you stopped really hearing Lyra's poetry or Pyrrha's soft chuckles or Sunset holding forth in a voice that was louder than it needed to be; there was a time when you didn't hear Blake talking passionately — it didn't matter what she was talking about; Blake always talked passionately — or Yang and Nora competing to see who could laugh the loudest or Dove passing Lyra and Bon Bon the answers for yesterday's homework. You learned to stuff your ears selectively, so that you could only hear what Flash or Cardin or sometimes Russel was saying.

Weiss had learned to tune out the other sounds, or else, she would never be able to think straight.

But at the same time, she missed them now that they were gone.

They were gone now. The corridor was silent save for the echo of their footsteps.

Team WWSR advanced in single file, with Flash leading the way, then Weiss, then Russel, with Cardin bringing up the rear. The corridor they were heading down led to and then beyond Doctor Oobleck's classroom. Having left Team APDT guarding the door out from the school building into the courtyard, Team WWSR was sweeping the building for any survivors. Apparently, when the grimm attack began, people had taken shelter in the buildings; considering that the attack had opened with a descent by airborne grimm upon them, that made sense. It had made less sense when the ground grimm arrived; these walls weren't going to keep out ursai or even beowolves. But in the confusion of the fighting so far, it wouldn't be surprising if there weren't some people still sheltering here.

Assuming that the grimm hadn't reached them first.

If they had, then WWSR couldn't help them, but if they were still alive, then WWSR would find them.

And then, if possible, they would secure the fire exit and prevent any grimm from entering the building on the ground floor, never getting out onto the other side.

Beacon's Team GRAY were taking the upper floor, where the offices of the professors were, while Team WWSR had the ground floor, which was much larger due to the size of the various classrooms, with their theatre-like arrangement of banks of seats climbing up the wall.

There were only two floors despite the size of the building; only two floors where the grimm could get in.

So far, they had seen a few grimm, and slain a few besides; they had been griffons, strangely, despite the relative lack of room to fly even in the classrooms; they had found a trio of them in Professor Port's classroom, squabbling over the polished bust of the professor himself. In the process, they had done a considerable amount of damage to the room, but then Team WWSR had done a considerable amount of damage to them.

They had come across no more grimm, although it seemed that they had been here at one point and that Team WWSR were not the first to have ventured here to try and fight them off: sections of the corridor walls were demolished, and there were small fires burning here and there — they did not seem to have in any danger of spreading, thankfully — as well as detritus strewn out of the smashed up rooms.

No bodies, thank gods. If there had been a battle here, there was no evidence that it had cost anyone their lives. There wasn't even any blood on the floor.

"We just lost scroll signal," Russel said in a hushed whisper. "Completely gone, dead."

"What are you checking your scroll for?" Cardin asked quietly, leaning forwards.

"'Cause I heard that the classrooms have scroll jammers in them to stop us from messing around on our scrolls in class, and I wanted to know if we lost signal," Russel replied. "We can't call for backup now."

Weiss considered that it might only be Russel's scroll that had lost its signal — that shouldn't happen, but these things could be temperamental at times and sometimes behaved in ways that didn't make sense on first glance — but a quick check of her own scroll before she put it away showed that he was quite right: she had no signal either.

"A signal jammer in a classroom sounds a rather draconian step to take," she observed quietly. "But why would it be on now, of all times? Who would have turned it on?"

Russel shrugged. "Maybe it came on by itself."

"Things don't just—"

Flash shushed them. "I think I hear something."

They all fell silent, listening intently.

Weiss heard it too: a groan coming from ahead, from inside Doctor Oobleck's classroom if she was hearing it correctly.

"Go!" she hissed, and they quickened their pace, Flash still leading the way, with Rho Aias held protectively before him and Caliburn in spear mode drawn back for an underarm thrust.

Weiss held Mytenaster lightly in one hand, with fire dust in the chamber and a black glyph in her mind, ready to conjure it in case she needed it to protect her team from a sudden attack.

Their footfalls continued to echo down the corridor, the echoes mingling and merging with one another as they moved more swiftly, occasionally being drowned out by the groaning of the person they were coming to help.

There was no sound of any grimm, no growls or snarls that indicate that this person, whoever they were, was being menaced or tormented. Only the groans of pain.

Team WWSR burst into Doctor Oobleck's classroom; the door had been ripped off its hinged and tossed into the corridor, and they all leapt over it before they rushed through the open doorway to see a dead body lying on the floor in front of Doctor Oobleck's desk, in the space where the doctor had been wont to zip here and there lecturing them upon history or fairy tales.

Now, a body lay there, utterly still, never to move again. He was a young man, wearing the grey and white school uniform of Atlas Academy, with light brown hair cut short on the back and sides, a little like Cardin; a gun, Weiss thought it might be a laser, lay on the ground next to him.

Clearly, he wasn't the one making the noise. So then—

The groan came again, and Weiss realised that it was coming from above them.

She looked up. They all looked up. There, hanging from the rafters by one leg, was another Atlas student in the grey and white. Like his comrade down on the floor, he wasn't moving; Weiss might have thought him dead too if it weren't for the soft sounds that he was making.

"Flash, guard the door," she said. "Russel, search the room. Cardin, wait there."

For herself, Weiss conjured up a white glyph a foot or two off the floor and hopped onto it. Then she conjured up another, and another, a stairway of silver-white platforms leading her upwards towards the ceiling of the classroom, where the student hung.

He had floppy blond hair that dangled downwards, leaving his face exposed where ordinarily it would have shielded it like curtains. The face it left exposed was bruised and swollen and smeared with blood, as were his clothes.

Russel, who had climbed up the steps to check the rows of seats that climbed upwards, stopped, looking at something behind the left bank of desks. "There's another body here, an Atlas girl."

The young man hung from the ceiling groaned again, as if the reminder of his comrade pained him. Weiss looked at the string that held him, and it was only a string, a very thin cord to take somebody's weight. Her eyes followed the string over the ceiling beam and then back down again to a brass hook on the wall that was used to restrain the curtains; the other end of the string had been looped around it.

Weiss thrust Myrtenaster into the sash at her waist. She reached out and placed both hands upon the bloody, beaten Atlas boy.

"Cardin," she said. "Take that string off the hook. But do it gently."

She couldn't see what Cardin was doing, but he must have done what she asked because the Atlas boy — gently — lowered down into her waiting arms. Weiss placed him over her shoulder as she hopped down her stairway of white glyphs, each glyph dissolving behind her, until she jumped back down to the floor.

"He needs medical attention," she announced as she set him down on the floor. "Russel, get him to safety and then come back here and rejoin the rest of us."

"Who put him up there in the first place?" asked Cardin, walking back towards them from the far side of the classroom. "Did a grimm do that?"

"He didn't put himself up there or put those injuries on his face," Weiss observed. "And I doubt he killed his own teammates either."

"Even if a grimm could, why would a grimm do that?" asked Russel as he descended the steps. "Why not just kill him like it killed the other two?"

An enormous hand, thick and black, punched through the front wall of the classroom to engulf Flash before he could respond. Fingers thicker than Weiss' waist engulfed him pulling with a yelp through the hole in the wall.

"Flash!" Weiss cried, drawing Myrtenaster from her waist once more, firing two blasts of fire dust in quick succession at the wall. To follow Flash through the hole the grimm had made would be foolish, but Doctor Oobleck would forgive her for blowing a second hole which, though it burned at the edges, she could fly through on the line of sliver-white glyphs she conjured up, gliding over them, through the smouldering hole and into the next room.

It was Doctor Oobleck's private office, a lot of old books with leather bindings strewn haphazardly everywhere and historical curios like the old relics you could find in the Emerald Forest if you looked down at your feet. Some of them were broken, as was the desk and the chair; the office was occupied by a massive beringel that had to hunch itself to fit into the cramped office.

It held Flash in one hand; he had dropped Rho Aias, but he still had Caliburn in his hand, and he had changed it from spear to sword mode as he stabbed it frantically into the beringel's hand.

The beringel didn't seem to notice. It gave a husky laugh as it squeezed him with its massive fingers.

Weiss flew towards them, Myrtenaster pointed before her like a lance, aimed at the small of the beringel's back. Beringel's were strong, but they lacked armour in comparison to other grimm; even the eldest of them was unprotected compared with a beowolf or an ursa of similar age or younger. The beringel's back was all black, no plates of armour to be seen, nothing to interrupt her blade at all.

She drove Myrtenaster home, and as the slender blade pierced the black hide, Weiss fired another blast of fire dust straight into the grimm.

The beringel squawked and dropped Flash to the floor.

Weiss smirked as she extracted her blade, conjuring an array of black glyphs to shield her from the inevitable—

The beringel swung its enormous trunk-like arm in a backhand blow that smashed through Weiss' glyphs as though they were made of glass, not aura, swatting Weiss backwards with a blow that sent her aura plummeting. The pain, the flaring protest of her injured aura, consumed Weiss' mind for a moment as she flew backwards, smashing through the classroom wall to make a third hole and further damage her abused aura. Only after that did she recover herself sufficiently to conjure up a glyph to stop her progress, and even that was a somewhat hard landing.

She barely managed to keep her feet as she landed unsteadily upon the ground.

Cardin stepped protectively in front of her as the beringel pursued, joining the two holes in the wall that Weiss had made as it broke through, roaring and beating its chest with both its mighty hands.

It planted its fists heavily onto the floor with a thud that made the classroom shake.

"Cardin, cover me," Weiss commanded, raising Myrtenaster in front of her as she began to conjure a time dilation glyph. "Russel, flank it!"

The smoky silver time dilation glyph began to take shape beneath Weiss' feet, but slowly, achingly slowly.

The beringel raised one first. Cardin charged with a shout, Executioner drawn back for a two-handed swing aimed at the beringel's face. The beringel caught the mace in one hand, not even able to wrap all of its fingers around the weapon. Cardin's shout changed to a growl of frustration as he pushed and shoved, trying to regain control of his weapon. The beringel, its other fist still planted firmly on the floor, let out a kind of husky laughing sound as it engaged in this tug of war. Cardin was sometimes able to push forwards, shoving the beringel's arm back, then he had to take a step back in turn, but he couldn't wrench his mace out of the beringel's grip.

Russel came in from the side, daggers gleaming in the moonlight that streamed through the window as he stabbed at the beringel's back hip, hands and arms a blur as the knives ripped in and out, in and out, and every strike exploding with a little blast of dust.

The beringel huffed and brought its other hand up off the floor to smack Cardin backwards into Weiss — the glyph she had been conjuring dissolved into nothing — and bearing them both back through the front row of desks and into the second.

The grimm rounded on Russel, rearing up as it raised both first up towards the ceiling. Russel backed away as the fists flew down, slamming into the floor hard enough to make craters. The beringel tried to bring its fists down again, then tried more swatting sideswipes, but Russel was swift on his feet and able to stay a step ahead of the mighty hands.

Weiss, having crawled out from underneath Cardin, took advantage of the beringel's distraction with Russel to think. Speed was their ally here, since the beringel was too strong to be withstood by her barrier glyphs; they would just have to stay one step ahead of him.

And if they could stop the beringel from moving too, then so much the better.

She rotated Myrtenaster's chamber so that, instead of fire dust, she had blue ice dust loaded.

"Be ready to move on my signal," she instructed Cardin as she conjured an array of white glyphs all around the classroom, criss-crossing it in every direction, passing under and around the beringel as it lumbered in pursuit of Russel.

The beringel looked down at the glyphs appearing all around it.

Weiss swooped forward, racing along her glyphs towards the beringel's rear. She slashed out with Mytenaster, firing a blast of ice dust that crystallised around the beringel's leg, covering it in sparkling ice up to the haunch and pinning the grimm to the floor. She flew around it, her slender blade darting out to strike at the beringel's flank before she slid around in front of it.

The beringel raised both fists to slam them down on her, but Weiss was too quick, and both hammer-like hands struck down onto the floor. Weiss fired another blast of ice dust, catching both hands before they could rise again, sticking them to the floor as well as the ice dust rose up to the beringel's elbows.

"Now!" Weiss cried, cycling Myrtenaster's chamber from ice dust to yellow lightning dust.

Cardin followed in Weiss' gliding path, using her glyphs to flow forwards rapidly and hammer the beringel from the side, pounding on its thigh with Executioner. Flash charged out of Doctor Oobleck's office, Rho Aias recovered and Caliburn back in spear mode; he drove Caliburn into the beringel's flank, twisting the spear as he did so. Russel dived underneath the beringel and began to stab at its chest and belly with his flickering knives.

"Everyone hold back a moment," Weiss commanded, waiting until all their metal weapons were away from the beringel before she struck, on the side opposite to Flash, stabbing the beringel with her slim sword and unleashing the lightning dust stored within.

Yellow lightning rippled up and down the black body of the grimm, crackling, snapping, snarling, biting like dogs the lightning bit at the beringel. The grimm roared in pain, its whole body shook, it trembled in its icy restraints.

The beringel ripped its arms free of the ice with a great roar, its whole body rearing up as its arms rose to touch the ceiling — and then its whole body flopping down again right on top of Russel. Russel tried to roll away, but he was not fast enough this time, and Weiss had no glyphs beneath the beringel to help him. The grimm landed with a thud to shake the ceiling, and there was no sign of Russel underneath.

Weiss, Cardin, and Flash all renewed their assault, sword, mace, and spear rising and falling.

The beringel's restrained leg broke free of the ice as well and lashed out, prehensile toes gripping Cardin by the ankle and pulling him off balance. The grimm pushed itself up — exposing Russel to view, lying flat on the ground but with no visible injuries — and slammed its fist down on Flash.

Flash caught the blow on Rho Aias, his semblance enabling him to withstand the hideous strength without moving. Lightning erupted out of Rho Aias to blast up the beringel's arm, once more snapping and crackling as it tore towards the grimm's bony skull. The beringel did not flinch; rather, as the lightning rippled up its arm, it grabbed Rho Aias by the lip of the shield and pulled Flash forwards and flat on his face to the floor.

Weiss conjured a succession of black glyphs over him, five, six, seven black glyphs stacked in a row over Flash as the beringel's fist descended.

It broke the first glyph, and the second, and the third. Four, five glyphs shattered by the beringel's hand, the sixth crumbling, and the seventh … the seventh holding firm against the beringel's blow.

The grimm turned its head to regard her with a pair of burning red eyes.

It sprang for her, but Weiss first recoiled away then rushed forwards, skidding beneath the beringel's legs and behind it to grab Russel — his aura might not be broken, but by his wide eyes and the way he was shaking, he was in no fit state to rejoin the battle right now — and pull him at least a little way out of danger, to the doorway of the corridor. She slid forward on more glyphs to do the same for the injured Atlesian, dragging him out of reach.

Not that the beringel seemed to notice. Its attention was on Cardin, still grabbed by the foot despite the way that he hammered at the monster with his mace. The beringel grunted as it grabbed him by the hand, squeezing his shoulder and twisting Executioner out of his grip.

Weiss began to conjure hard light glyphs, Russel had impugned her lasers, but perhaps—

With this free hand, the beringel grabbed a section of desk and threw it at her, throwing her off her conjuring, causing her glyphs to flicker and die.

Flash, back on his feet, drove Caliburn into the small of the beringel's back.

The grimm rounded on him but still kept hold of Cardin, using him as a weapon, beating Flash with him; Cardin's arms flailed, and he cried out in pain as the beringel beat him up and down on Flash's upraised shield. Flash's semblance allowed him to absorb the shocks, but Cardin had no such luck, and in any case, Flash's semblance consumed his aura as much as the repeated impacts consumed Cardin's.

Weiss once more tried to summon her laser glyphs; no other blow she'd landed had been sufficient; it was all that she could think to try.

Cardin's aura broke, and the beringel threw him at Weiss, who had to swiftly dodge to avoid him. She just about managed to conjure a black glyph to catch him before he slammed into the wall, but how much softer that really was, she couldn't say.

Flash stabbed the beringel in the chest. It barely seemed to notice as it pounded on him with its immense fists, those great hammers rising and falling.

Flash stood like a tree buffeted by a storm, the winds of the hurricane pushing at the stiff old trunk.

The stiff old trunk that never bends but breaks.

Flash's aura broke, consumed by his semblance. The next blow of the beringel drove him into the floor. He cried out in pain.

His cry turned to a scream of agony as the next blow shattered his legs beneath the beringel's fist.

Weiss screamed too, a piercing scream of fear and frustration. If she did nothing, then Flash would die. Flash was helpless, aura broken, going to die if Weiss did nothing, and Weiss could do nothing. She couldn't help. She couldn't hurt this monster. All she could do was watch.

There's nothing I can do.

There must be something I can do!

The beringel's fist rose up, and fell.

A white hand, a shimmering white hand of ghostly samite, grabbed the grimm's descending fist and held it fast.

The beringel made a soft noise of confusion.

Weiss stared, wide-eyed. This hand, and the arm to which was attached, had emerged out of an ornate white glyph, elegant but inscrutable patterns swirling in the air in front of the beringel. The glyph, like the hand and the arm, were so pale as to be almost spectral, glowing like a vision from some other world, giving off a sort of smoke as though they were all some transient thing that began to decay by the mere act of being in the world.

And yet, at the same time, solid enough to stop the beringel's blow and hold it fast despite its efforts to free itself, for tug as it might, it could not break free.

Hand and arm alike were clad in armour, segmented plates of armour with sharp and overlapping edges.

She had seen this armour before, in her father's house — and in the battle she had been forced to fight before attending Beacon, when he had had a geist placed in one of his suits of armour and then loosed it on her.

A sword emerged from the same glyph, a long white sword, broader than Weiss or Flash, almost as broad as Cardin's chest, a sword that seemed it must be made for two hands yet here wielded in one. Another armoured arm drove that sword out of the glyph and into the beringel's chest and out the other side.

The beringel whimpered as it was lifted off the floor.

A warrior emerged out of the glyph, a giant warrior clad all in ghostly armour, everything concealed beneath the shimmering plate. Behind the slit in its visor, there lay nothing at all.

The arma gigas had to stoop to emerge out of the glyph, then straightened up; it was almost as tall as the high ceiling of the classroom. It looked down at the beringel hung upon its sword, and contemptuously shook it free.

As the beringel was flung through the air, the arma gigas swung its sword once more and cut it in two.

The grimm's ashes scattered across the room.

Weiss stared in amazement at the mighty warrior that she had summoned.

She had done it.

She had saved Flash.

Tears sprang to the corners of her eyes.

The arma gigas turned towards her. Taking a step forward, it placed its sword tip first upon the floor and knelt to her, upon one knee, as a retainer to his princess in some soppy old fairy story.

Weiss' whole body trembled.

She collapsed forward, her own much more slender blade hitting the floor point first as she leaned upon it, managing to only fall to her knees instead of flat on her face.

The arma gigas dissolved into nothing as her aura broke.

She heard footsteps, footsteps running down the corridor. She heard Blake's voice crying, "Weiss? Weiss?"

"In here!" Weiss shouted, her voice trembling just like her body. "In here, we need help!"

Blake's steps quickened yet further, and she burst in with Gambol Shroud in her hand. Her golden eyes darted around the room. "Weiss, are you—?" She gasped when she saw Flash, saw the bloody ruin that the grimm had made of his legs.

Weiss rose unsteadily to her feet. Without her aura, she felt so incredibly weary, so weak, as though she had gone days without food. She moved slowly, ever so slowly as she staggered across the ruined classroom, kneeling once more by Flash's side.

"Flash?" she whispered. "Flash, can you hear me?"

Flash groaned. His blue eyes flickered. "I … am I dreaming?"

"No," Weiss said, swallowing the phlegm that threatened to clog her throat. "No, I … I hope that a dream would be more pleasant than this."

Flash managed to smile weakly, but said, "But I thought … I thought I saw … saved by … a beautiful thing. Second most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

His eyes began to close.

"Flash!" Weiss cried. "No, Flash, you have to stay awake!" She looked at Blake. "My aura's broken; you'll have to carry him."

"Of course," Blake said, sheathing her sword as she ran towards them.

XxXxX​

The sound of gunfire rattled out of Rainbow's scroll.

"This is Coco Adel!" Coco shouted over the sound of the gun. "We could use some assistance here!"

Team CFVY — what remained of Team CFVY — was one of the teams holding the path between the docking pads and the courtyard; just by looking west, Rainbow could see first the nearly-continuous muzzle flashes of Coco's weapon lighting up the darkness, and by looking through her goggles, she could see that Coco — and Velvet, who had copied Coco's weapon — were firing into a large group of mixed beowolves and ursai bearing down on them.

"Understood, Coffee," Rainbow said. "Ciel, go."

Ciel nodded and turned away, running westward down the path, Distant Thunder rising and falling in her arms as she ran.

With Ciel gone, that left just Rainbow, Rarity, and Team ONYX defending the courtyard.

Since she had sent Blake into the main school building to fetch WWSR, APDT, and GRAY, Rainbow had pulled the Haven Team PHIN out of the dining hall and sent them to hold the gap between the fairground and the courtyard, which in turn let her send Team UMBR onwards to join the fight in the fairgrounds itself. The grimm now occupied the dining hall — she could see them silhouetted against the flames — and used it to gather their strength in a degree of cover before launching attacks on either Team PHIN or on Rainbow and ONYX in the courtyard. She had also pulled another Haven team, APAA — pronounced 'apparel' — out of the dorms, leaving only Team SABR to hold them, and sent them to bolster the fairgrounds as well.

It was not ideal, and it had not been her first choice, but the situation in the fairground remained tense, and the fairground remained the place where they were still finding civilians who needed to be evacuated — they were still coming in a steady trickle down the path that the huntsmen held, to the courtyard and then west to the docking pads.

There were some civilians waiting in the courtyard, waiting for Ciel to reinforce Team CFVY and drive off this latest attack, but they were being swollen in number by people still arriving from the fairgrounds.

If the situation in the fairgrounds still wasn't stabilised … Rainbow could really do with Team WWSR back here; there wasn't a lot of other fat left.

"Rainbow Dash," the voice of Violet Valeria intruded upon her thoughts.

There was a moment when Rainbow wished that she was a praying person so that she could pray for some good news. "Violet, please tell me that you're contacting me because all the civilians are away."

"I wish I could say that," Violet said. "Your girl Ditzy is running around checking, but in the meantime, most of your Atlesian robots are down, and we've been enveloped on three sides now."

"Can you hold?" Rainbow asked.

"I wouldn't be calling if I was sure I could," Violet replied.

I'm not sitting on a bottomless pit of huntsmen, you know, Rainbow thought. This isn't a videogame where I can push a button and generate a new team for seventy-five lien a time. But one of the rules of leadership once you got down the list a little — twenty-five or twenty-six or something — was not losing your temper with your subordinates, and so, Rainbow took a deep breath before she responded.

I'll have to go down there myself. I haven't got anyone else to send. Once Blake gets back, she can take overall command.

Maybe the problem is Violet's been too defensive. With the grimm enveloping on three sides, they can't be that strong everywhere; a counterattack could roll them back and stabilise the situation.

I'll go and—

"Rainbow Dash!"

"Penny!" Rainbow cried, turning around to see Penny, Pyrrha, and Jaune approaching from the south, stepping into the lights that surrounded the courtyard. A ragged sigh of relief burst from Rainbow's mouth even as said mouth broke into a grin. "Am— Violet, hold on, just a second; I'll have something for you."

"Hurry up."

"Midnight, put me on mute," Rainbow said as she jogged forwards towards the three members of Team SAPR. "Penny, am I glad to see you!" She pulled her into a quick one-armed hug, contenting herself with a nod of welcome to Pyrrha and Jaune. "How's Ruby?"

"Still sleeping," Penny said. "We left her with Professor Ozpin."

"I kinda wish you'd left her somewhere alone and brought Professor Ozpin here with you, but never mind," Rainbow muttered. "What about…?" She licked her lips. "What about Amber?"

"She's gone," Penny said softly. "She left the school with Dove, Lyra, Bon Bon, and Tempest Shadow."

"With Tempest?" Rainbow repeated, her voice rising a little. "Tempest's dead!"

"Not according to Benni Haven," Jaune replied. "She saw her — or at least someone who looks a lot like her — leaving with Amber and the others; they took the road towards Vale."

"How did Tempest die?" Pyrrha asked. "Or seem to die?"

"I don't know," Rainbow admitted. "Trixie just told me that she had. She could have fooled them, I guess." Poor Tsunami; they're going to feel like rubes when they find out. Or if they find out; it might be better to let them think—

Only if Tempest actually dies tonight; if she's still around, then they need to know in case they run into her again.

Poor Tsunami.

"So what about you?" she asked. "Where do you go from here?"

She hoped, she dared to hope, that they were here to help her out — they could certainly use the help — but at the same time, Rainbow tried to mentally prepare herself for the possibility that they were not, that Professor Ozpin had given them other orders, to guard the Relic, maybe, or get an airship somewhere into Vale, or kill Cinder or something else related to Salem and the secret war.

It would be a disappointment if they had, but it would be something she couldn't help and would have to make the best of.

"General Ironwood told us to report to you for instructions."

Yes! Thank you, thank you, General! "Thank the lights," Rainbow muttered. She cleared her throat. "Okay, here's what I want you to do: we still haven't evacuated everyone out of the fairgrounds — we think; it's confused over there; we're always finding new civilians still wondering what to do. Violet Valeria of Team Volcano is leading the defence, but I don't want you to take orders from her. Instead, what I want you to do is … the grimm are mainly advancing from the east, but they've worked around the open ground north of the fairgrounds, and they're pressing from the north and now from the west as well, but I think they must be weak to the west because their main forces are coming from the other side of the battlefield. So what I want you to do is head to the fairgrounds, then take Team Auburn and Team Tsunami, and I want you to counterattack the grimm on the western flank, okay? You come up from the south and hit them here like this," — Rainbow held up one hand palm flat, making a vertical straight line, and then slowly moved her other fist upwards to hit her flat palm on the wrist — "and then I want you to drive them back and roll them up all the way around the fairgrounds until they're only coming from the eastern side. That will mean there's a lot less ground to defend for the number of huntsmen. Does that make sense?"

"I think so," Penny said.

"It sounds like a risk," Pyrrha murmured.

"I can't help that," Rainbow replied. "Playing defence has gotten us into a situation where most of our forces are down there already, and it's still not enough. We need a brisk counterattack to take some of the pressure off." She paused. "I know it's a big ask, but that's why I'm asking you. You're one of the best teams on the field right now; I need you to be—"

"The tip of the spear," Pyrrha said softly. "Put like that, how can we refuse?"

"We can't, and we won't," Penny declared. "You can rely on us, Rainbow Dash."

"I know," Rainbow said, giving her a pat on the shoulder. "Now go to it." She stepped aside to let them pass. As they ran by, Pyrrha's sash fluttering out behind her, Rainbow said, "Midnight, unmute me."

"Done."

"Violet," Rainbow said. "I'm sending Team Sapphire your way. When they get there, I want them to join with Team Auburn and Team Tsunami and counterattack the grimm coming in from the west."

"'Counterattack'?"

"Yes, I think it should relieve the pressure if we can drive back their flanking forces," Rainbow said.

"I understand," Violet said. "Thank you, Rainbow Dash." Her voice rose, and Rainbow understood that she was not speaking directly to Rainbow Dash as she shouted. "Take heart, sons and daughters! Stand fast, for the Champion comes to our aid!"

Rainbow rolled her eyes. Mistralians.

"Rainbow Dash!" Blake's voice rose sharply out of Rainbow's scroll.

"Blake," Rainbow said. "Did you find Wisteria?"

"I left Team Aspidistra holding the school doors, but the interior has been abandoned," Blake said. "Team Gray is … helping me with the wounded."

Rainbow blinked. Her faunus ears pricked up on top of her head. "Helping you … how bad is it?"

There was a pause, then Blake said, "We had to leave two dead bodies in Doctor Oobleck's classroom; Atlesians, but I didn't recognise them, I don't think they came down with us. We've got another student I don't know wounded and on top of that Team Wisteria is… they're pretty well out of it right now. Weiss' aura has been broken; Russel still has some of his aura, but I think he's in shock; Cardin's badly hurt; and Flash…"

"Flash is what?" Rainbow demanded. Flash is … dead? She could hardly imagine that. They'd never been super close, but he'd always been there, a friendly face in the corridor or around the table. Poor Flash, stuck with a girlfriend like Sunset; poor Flash, pining after Twilight; poor Flash, isn't it terrible what happened to his old man? Good old Flash, trying his best; good for Flash, finding his semblance like that; Flash sure plays a mean guitar.

Good luck, Flash, I wish you were coming to Atlas.

Flash's funeral was a very dignified affair.

No. No, it can't be. "Flash what, Blake?"

"His legs," Blake replied, the words sounding like they'd burst out unbidden. Her voice dropped. "I think he'll lose both legs."

Behind Rainbow, Rarity whimpered.

Rainbow's ears drooped down on top of her head. That was … at least he was alive, but at the same time, it was hardly good news. Both legs? To lose one was bad enough, but to lose both? Living was the only consolation for something like that. "What happened?"

"A beringel," Blake explained. "Weiss killed it in the end, just before I got there, but it took all of her aura. I'm carrying Flash now, and I can hear the pain in every breath that Cardin takes. Team Wisteria's down, Rainbow Dash."

Rainbow cursed inwardly. "I see," she muttered. "Okay, take them to the docking pads; you say Team Gray is escorting you?"

"Yes. And helping Cardin to walk."

"Right," Rainbow said. "Make sure Flash and Cardin get on board an airship ASAP; if Russel doesn't seem better by the time you get there, get him aboard too. Weiss can stay or go; it's her choice. She might want to keep an eye on her team. But once you've got them to the docking pads, I need you to come back here with Team Gray."

"Understood."

Rainbow closed her eyes.

I'm so sorry, Flash.

She ran one hand through her rainbow hair as she turned around to face Rarity.

Rarity looked pale, even paler than usual, which was saying quite a lot. Her mouth was covered with both her hands, and her blue eyes — already big, and made to seem bigger with the purple eyeshadow she wore — had grown wide with horror.

Rainbow tried to find a reassuring smile as she closed the distance to her friend. "It's gonna be okay," she said. She reached out to put a hand on Rarity's shoulder. "Flash is gonna be okay."

"But Blake—" Rarity began.

"I know," Rainbow said softly. "But they'll get him stabilised up on the Comfort, and then they'll take him home to Atlas, and once he's there, they'll fit him with a new set of legs. With who his mother is, her connections, he'll get a top-of-the-line pair, just like that."

She snapped her fingers.

And then no one will look at him the same way again. People won't see him as human anymore; they'll look at him and see a machine or a monster.

Someone really ought to change that part of our society, too.

"And he'll be back on his feet in no time," she said to Rarity. "Back on his feet … good as new."

XxXxX​

Pyrrha led the charge, Miló switching fluidly from sword to spear and back again as she cut, then thrust, then threw her shield to decapitate an alpha, then changed briefly to gun to fire off her last few shots, then switched back to spear to whirl it before her in both hands. Against a particularly tough-looking foe, a wave of aura rippled from the tip of Miló to tear through the grimm before her.

Arslan was on her right, wordless roars ripping from the throat of the Golden Lion, Nemean Claw gleaming in one hand; sometimes, out of the corner of her eye, Pyrrha saw her reach for the necklace of fire dust crystals that she habitually wore, only to realise that she'd used them all up in her fight against Pyrrha. They were none of them starting this battle in the completely fresh state they would have liked. Nonetheless, Arslan pushed on at Pyrrha's side, roaring, punching, kicking, throwing her knife to bury it in the necks of grimm and then retrieve it by the string wound around her hands. Sometimes, her blows had the force of aura behind them; Pyrrha felt the aftershocks through the air, blowing through her ponytail.

Trixie was on Pyrrha's left, her wand in one hand, and in the other, a replica of Blake's Gambol Shroud, fashioned out of aura by Trixie's teammate Sunburst. Fire erupted from the tip of Trixie's wand while she switched between gun and sword almost as smoothly as Blake did. Her starry cape streamed out behind her as she charged forward, and her tall pointy hat looked forever as though it was on the verge of flying off her head.

Starlight and Bolin held the flanks of the wedge; Starlight's weapon was in its polearm configuration, the blade glowing a brilliant blue that lit up the darkness; Bolin's staff whirled in his grasp. Starlight had asked to copy Jaune's semblance before they began their assault, and so, her hands would glow with a brilliant opal light as she strengthened her arms to cut down the mightiest foes that confronted her.

Jaune was right behind Pyrrha, sometimes stepping out to the right, sometimes to the left to blast dust outwards at the grimm before them, sometimes sheathing Crocea Mors to give someone a much needed boost to their aura. Sunburst was with him, a wind dust crystal set in his staff which he used to blast grimm aside from the safety of the second rank.

And in the centre of the wedge was Penny, the swords of Floating Array rising on their wires above the heads of Pyrrha and Jaune and all the rest before descending like thunderbolts upon the grimm. She scythed them down like wheat in the harvest time.

They charged forth, driving through the flank of the grimm, and as they cut through their ranks, the embattled huntsmen who had struggled to hold them back cheered for them; they did not cheer so loud as the crowds in the arena had cheered earlier that day, but as their cheers rang in the ears of Pyrrha and the others, she reflected that the cheers meant more, just as this battle meant more, than all the loud applause that they had won in the arena.

And so, with the cheering echoing in their ears and stiffening their hearts, they charged forwards, slicing through the grimm that confronted them. This was their aristeia, their slaughter of which the poets sang, as the grimm fell before them like a great tree falling to the woodcutter's axe.

It was not enough.

For every grimm that fell, two more took its place; three more, even. They shattered the western flank of the grimm assault, but as they turned upon the northern wing, as they pushed eastward, so the numbers of the grimm increased and the momentum of their charge collapsed into a battle to hold the line against the constantly replenishing creatures that confronted them.

As she hacked and slashed and thrust her spear to strike down every grimm that came against her only to see more grimm step forward over their smouldering bodies, as she felt her arms beginning to grow heavy, Pyrrha began to fear that they would truly need the Atlesian air support to hurl the grimm back and that if it did not come soon, then the tide of the battle for Beacon would turn against them.

Atlesian air support, or a miracle.



Ozpin was collapsed into his chair. He could barely move. He could barely think — or rather, the only thing that he could think was one thing.

Amber had betrayed him.

Amber had betrayed all of them, but him especially. Amber, the Fall Maiden, the girl he had known since she was a babe in arms, had betrayed him.

"Are you really that surprised?" Amber asked.

She stood in the centre of his office, looking down at him where he sat, half-sprawled, in his chair. The scars on her face, the scars that Cinder had inflicted upon her, the scars that rebuked him for his failure to protect her, were especially visible upon her face. There was no makeup to hide or soften them now, and even the dim light of the office did not hide them.

They all stood out so clearly, and all of them cried out to him that they were his fault, that all of this was his fault.

"Why wouldn't I betray you?" Amber asked, taking a step towards him. Her arms were held out at her sides, and she raised them as though she was trying to embrace them. "After all the things that you have done to me, what reason, what right do you have to expect loyalty from me, to demand devotion?"

"I loved you," Ozpin whispered. "I still love you."

"You ruined my life! That's not love!" Amber shrieked. "You never asked me if I wanted to be your Maiden; you never gave me a choice — or a chance."

"None of us are given a chance," Raven muttered. "Even those of us who got a choice."

"That's not true!" Summer insisted. "We all—"

"Whose child is that lying there on the floor?" Raven demanded, gesturing at the sleeping, unconscious form of Miss Rose lying there. "It's yours, isn't it? It's your daughter who's lying here because she got mixed up in all of this." Her voice became hoarse, almost choked. "Who grew up without a mother because you got mixed up in all this?"

Summer fell silent, staring at Raven, staring at Miss Rose, pointedly not looking at Ozpin.

Then she disappeared.

Leaving Ozpin without a champion or a defender, not that he deserved one.

"I almost died for this once," Amber reminded him, as though he could have forgotten. "I almost died for something that I never wanted. Why should I risk my life for it again and again, over and over again until death claims me? Why should I cleave to you, just so that you can find someone else to inherit my magic when I'm gone?"

"I thought I was brave before I met you," Raven declared. "I thought that I was strong, I thought that I was resilient, I thought that I could handle anything that Remnant threw at me. And when I met Summer and Tai, when I met my first friends, I thought that together we could … but you showed me such things as took my courage clean away. You killed my friend, you killed Summer … and you killed the vision of myself I had. You killed the me I thought I was, and the me I wanted to become."

"You killed my self-respect," Lionheart said, as he appeared where Summer had been standing just a second ago. "You trapped me in Mistral, prey to every condescending remark, every racist microaggression, every sneer, every curled lip. Did you ever wonder how lonely I'd become?"

"So many betrayals," Raven murmured. "So many people turned against you. Did you ever wonder if maybe you were the problem?"

"Of course he's wondered that," Salem said. She appeared next to Amber, so tall that her head nearly touched the slowly grinding gears of the clock. She glided forwards, her feet and the hem of her black dress obscured by smoke rising up around her. "It's always on his mind." She stood over him now, leaning down, hands pale as death upon his desk, red eyes staring down at him. "It's a monster that stalks him while he wakes and gnaws upon him while he sleeps. It never rests but always lurks at the back of his mind, whispering." She smiled. "I've come to triumph over you when all is won, Ozpin."

Ozpin fought to control the trembling in his hands. "You are not here."

"No," Salem conceded. Her smile widened, her teeth flashing like knives. "But I have triumphed over you."

"Not yet you haven't," Miss Shimmer said.

Ozpin looked to his right. There, Miss Shimmer stood, leaning against the window, arms folded across her chest. Her ears were drooped down into her fiery hair, and she was glaring at Salem.

"Don't count your grades until you get the papers back," she said. "You haven't triumphed yet."

Salem straightened up, turning to face Miss Shimmer. "My grimm are rampaging across the school; the Fall Maiden has given herself into my hands and will deliver the Relic of Choice the same way." She chuckled. "Where is my disadvantage?"

Miss Shimmer straightened up and walked around the edge of the room, until she stood over Ozpin, over his shoulder, glaring at Salem and Amber and Raven.

She leaned over Ozpin's shoulder, and with his hand, she pushed a button on his desk. The glass surface of the desk flickered, and a half-dozen windows opened up, projected up in front of him.

They were images coming from the cameras placed around the school, images of the battle raging in the school right now, while he sat here in his tower. Looking at them, forcing himself to look at them, Ozpin could see Miss Nikos, Mister Arc, and Miss Polendina fighting alongside some Haven and Atlas students with whom he was much less familiar. He could see Miss Dash, James' prized protégé, directing the defences. He could see Miss Xiao Long and her teammates fighting to hold the grimm back from the docking pads as people queued to get aboard airships. He could see the battle raging across Beacon as students from all four academies, even Shade, fought to hold back the grimm and defend the school and those who had come here in good faith.

Miss Shimmer gestured to the screens, her hand pointing to the feed of Miss Nikos, Miss Polendina, and Mister Arc.

"There!" she snapped. "There is your disadvantage!"

The smile slid off Salem's face. "For now."

Miss Shimmer huffed and snapped her fingers.

Salem, Amber, and Raven all just disappeared, turning to smoke as though they were grimm and Miss Shimmer had slain them all. They were banished from his office just as Miss Shimmer — the real Miss Shimmer — had been banished from the school by Miss Rose.

"That's better," Miss Shimmer said. "We can have a conversation now." She walked around Ozpin's desk until she was on the other side of it, the side on which Salem and the rest had confronted him just a moment ago.

She looked down at him, but with less hostility in her green eyes than they had shown in theirs. "Look at them, Professor," she implored him. "Please."

"I can see, Miss Shimmer," Ozpin replied quietly.

"Look again," Sunset said. "And tell me that you can fault their courage."

"I have never denied their courage," Ozpin told her. "Only…"

Miss Shimmer sat down on the desk, twisting her body at the waist to look at him still. "Only your own?"

"As you are me, sprung out of my head, it would be pointless to deny it, would it not?"

"Just because I'm you doesn't mean I'm right," Miss Shimmer told him. "Any more than they were right before. Which they weren't by the way; you can't blame yourself. It's not your fault that you have been ill-used and betrayed."

"Is it not?" Ozpin asked.

"No!" Miss Shimmer said hotly. "No, of course not."

Ozpin looked away. He gave a little wan smile. "If someone is continuously getting in car accidents, there comes a time when he should ask if he is perhaps the bad driver, no? If I am forever being betrayed, should I not ask if I am responsible for my own betrayals?"

Miss Shimmer scratched between her eyebrows. "Look again at those cameras, Professor, look at Pyrrha and Jaune and Penny, and you will be reminded that, for all that the betrayals may stick in your mind, they're far outnumbered by the people who remained loyal to you."

Ozpin's eyes wandered back to that particular camera, to see Miss Nikos fighting with might and main against the hordes of grimm, Mister Arc supporting all their allies with his semblance as best he could, Miss Polendina striking from behind the line. And their comrades, too, their friends from Atlas and Haven, all of them fighting so hard.

Everyone was fighting so fine.

"Look at them shine, Professor," Miss Shimmer whispered. "Look at them shine so brightly as they streak across the sky."

Ozpin glanced at her. "Princess Celestia's words."

"She is very wise," Miss Shimmer said, smiling at him. "And never wrong."

"Then she must be very wise indeed, to be never wrong," Ozpin murmured. "But in this case…"

He fell silent, his words trailing off as he watched the battle unfolding, the valour on display, the skill. The skill was beautiful, though not so beautiful as the brave hearts which animated that skill and gave it purpose.

Though the night was dark, they did indeed shine brightly. He could not deny that. He would not try to deny that.

"Professor Lionheart betrayed you," Miss Shimmer said, "but General Ironwood has not, nor Professor Goodwitch. Raven betrayed you, but Summer Rose didn't, nor Qrow, or Ruby's father. Amber betrayed you…" — she ran one hand over the top of her fiery hair — "and I betrayed you too."

"I have never thought that, Miss Shimmer," Ozpin said.

Miss Shimmer raised her eyebrows as she looked at him.

Ozpin stared back at her, his face impassive.

Miss Shimmer sighed. "But Pyrrha hasn't, nor Jaune, Ruby, Penny; Rainbow, Blake, Ciel, they're loyal too, albeit to General Ironwood instead of you specifically, but loyal nonetheless. The point is that, while I get that it can seem as though you're surrounded by traitors, you're really not. They're far outnumbered by all the people, all the brilliant people, all the lights in the sky that are loyal to you and your cause."

"Even unto death," Ozpin murmured.

"Well, if that's what you're worried about, why don't you do something about it?!" Miss Shimmer snapped. She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Professor, but … you shouldn't blame yourself for the fact that a few people have betrayed you. But if you wanted to blame yourself for the fact that you're sat up here on your hindquarters while there's a battle going on downstairs, that wouldn't be entirely undeserved." She got up off the desk. "They need help, Professor. This is your school: you built this place; you turned it into a place they wanted to go, a place that they would fight to defend it. They still defend it. They risk their lives defending it. How can you do any less?

"Please, Professor, I know … I know you're scared." Miss Shimmer frowned. "I was scared too. I was scared of what would happen to them. Please don't leave them."

Ozpin looked at his staff, propped up against his desk. He gingerly reached for it, almost stroking the white domed head, fingertips not quite touching the surface.

So many years. So many battles.

So much power.

What had he been saving it for, if not for this?

"You wound me, Miss Shimmer," Ozpin said. "And yet, you wound me precisely as I deserve."

He looked at them all, all fighting, all striving, all defending his school while he … while he used others as his weapons.

So do all great lords if they are wise.

No. No, it was not always so.

It need not always be so.

Ozpin got to his feet and took up his staff. "I fear that I must be going," he said. "Thank you, Miss Shimmer."

Miss Shimmer shook her head. "You've no one to thank but yourself, Professor."

Ozpin nodded to her and strode briskly towards the elevator. His back was straight once more, his gait was firm, his stride was long.

His steps did not falter.

His breathing was calm as he stepped into the lift and let it bear him downwards.

He rested the tip of his cane on the floor as the elevator ground down. Perhaps he should have installed a swifter lift. It had never seemed the most urgent use of funds. There had always been something else — RAAC discovered in the main building, asbestos in the dorm rooms, expanded weapons maintenance facilities — that demanded urgent attention and resources.

The speed or otherwise of the elevator had never seemed to be of any great concern.

Yet now, having decided to go down and join the fight, Ozpin began to feel some of that same impatience that his students must have felt when coming up to see him.

He could only hope that they had taken the opportunity to have some scintillating and illuminating conversations on the way.

For himself, he had had his fill of such for tonight.

Of course, if I had decided to move sooner, if I had done what I should have done when the battle began, I would have no reason to curse the elevator for its sloth.

In this instance, I really do have no one to blame but myself.

The elevator reached the bottom, and the doors opened out on to the ghastly Atlesian décor of the tower lobby. He appreciated the CCT, but he didn't understand why it couldn't have been made to look more Valish. His own office was the only place in the whole tower that looked of a piece with the rest of Beacon's aesthetic. It was almost enough to make one believe that the Atlesians were trying to assimilate the world by stealth.

Almost.

It was not something that had to bother him for very long, as his swift steps carried him to the door and beyond.

A large group of grimm waited outside, under the leadership of a beringel.

The grimm seemed to have been waiting for him, for as soon as he stepped out of doors, they rose to their feet, and a clamour of howling rose out of their throats.

Ozpin regarded them evenly. They were too close for him to use the cane. It required a little time to use.

So he would need to deal with these grimm first.

He twirled his cane lightly in his hand as he descended a step.

He looked at the grimm over his small, round spectacles.

"Who would like to go first?" he asked calmly.

Many of them would, or none of them, for they sprang at him not one at a time but in a great mass of black fur and oily bodies, white masks and red eyes all blurring together as they rushed up the steps towards him.

Ozpin met them with his cane, a cane that moved so swiftly it blurred even before his eyes. He shimmered in the air before the creatures of grimm, moving like a haze in the air, never where they saw him but always somewhere else just beyond, so that their leaps and bites and charges descended on empty air before his staff descended upon them. His strokes were light — he favoured the thrust rather than the clubbing stroke; it was so much more elegant — but his thrusting blows were so rapid, landing on the target in quick succession, that they were more powerful collectively than the strongest clubbing blow could have been.

Grimm fell before him, and when the grimm pressed about him too numerously, he protected himself by conjuring up an emerald shield of magic to withstand them until he was ready to burst forth like a butterfly and assault them once more.

With his cane, he fought his way through the grimm, slaying them left and right to reach the beringel who led them. The beringel took to throwing grimm at him in an attempt to slow him down, but Ozpin didn't even need to dodge; he simply shimmered in place, his body a blur, appearing to move in all directions at once and none, and the grimm passed harmlessly through him. Or else his cane lashed out to strike them down.

He rushed towards the beringel. The grimm bellowed in anger and raised an enormous fist to crush him.

The fist came down. Ozpin's cane rose up.

The tip of his cane struck one of the beringel's fingers, stopping it in its tracks. Ozpin had barely felt a thing.

The beringel recoiled, howling in pain as it clutched at its hand.

Ozpin leapt up, his body rising into the air, rising above the moon, letting the light catch his hair before he began to fall, descending like a thunderbolt, towards the hapless, helpless beringel.

If you wanted to contain me, Salem, you should have sent much more.

How disappointing.

The beringel yelped as Ozpin drove his cane down, shattering the grimm's skull and penetrating its head with a single blow.

The rest of the grimm seemed to gasp in horror as Ozpin landed on the ground and turned towards them.

Having finished off the rest of the grimm, Ozpin stood alone in the square before the tower.

He looked down at the cane in his hands. Inside, stored within the gears that seemed to be merely a part of the handle, was an immense store of kinetic energy, the byproduct of all the battles in which he had used the cane — and he had fought many battles. Every blow, every strike, it all added to the energy within the cane. Even this little affair had made his cane a little more powerful.

And what was stored could be released.

And for what had he stored it away, if not against such a moment as this?

He was not near the centre of the school; parts of the grounds were a long way off from here. But moving closer to the centre of the school would invite questions — not least about the cane — that he did not really wish to answer.

And after so long, there was enough energy within to manage.

Ozpin raised his cane up, like a sword held before his face. He closed his eyes for a moment to focus himself, then opened them again.

He concentrated. He willed.

He called upon the power of battles long ago, of combats fought, of enemies defeated, of places saved or sacked, of armies laid low, of grimm hordes turned away.

So many battles. So much death.

So much drawn together for this.

The gears of the cane began to glow golden. The glow became brighter, brighter and brighter, as motes of emerald light began to drift out of the cane to hover around Ozpin like friendly fireflies.

He could feel the power, the power of the cane, and his own power also. He could feel it pricking at his hands, he could feel it trembling down his arms, he could feel the flood, and he could feel the walls cracking.

The gears of the cane shone brighter than the sun, the gears obscured from sight by the sheer brightness.

Golden light raced up the cane to the tip, and motes of gold rose also, mingling with the motes of green that danced around.

Ozpin pushed down upon the level built into the handle.

A shield of emerald magic surrounded him as rays of light rippled up and down the cane, whooshing with excitement, hissing with delight like eager creatures kept on leashes for too long and now, at last, set free to run.

The beam leapt out, erupting from the cane, bursting from the shield and spreading out, out, out across the whole of Beacon to cleanse the school of all its darkness.

 

[ScipioSmith]

After the Blast

​

Rainbow Dash fired both her machine pistols, blazing away at the grimm so close by that she could hardly miss.

Bullets flew from Brutal Honesty and Plain Awesome, blasting out of the flashing muzzles to rip into the swarm of grimm.

Right up until they didn't.

First Plain Awesome, then Brutal Honesty stopped firing, and Rainbow was rewarded with a series of clicks as the mechanisms on her empty weapons worked.

Rainbow gritted her teeth as she thrust her pistols back into their holsters and raised her fists.

"Okay then, you want some?" she shouted. "Come on!"

The grimm charged forward, growling and snarling.

And then an explosion split the sky. It looked almost as though there'd been a lightning strike, although there had been no lightning yet tonight, no rain, no adverse weather forecasts predicting a storm. But it looked like lightning, golden lightning lancing down out of the sky to land near Beacon Tower. There was a kind of weird sound, like a hooting, like a whooping alert calling the crew to General Quarters, and then there was the unmistakable sound of an explosion.

There was a bright light, there was a light so bright that Rainbow had to take a step back and shield her eyes despite the presence of the grimm. Except that the grimm all seemed to have stopped; from what Rainbow could see, which wasn't too much, they were turning to look at the blinding light from the tower behind them.

And the blast that was erupting out from that same explosion, expanding out in all directions in a dome of brilliant golden light, devouring everything in its path.

"TAKE COVER!" Rainbow bellowed at the top of her voice, and she turned and ran towards Rarity who was standing, hand covering her eyes, standing frozen as the blast expanded.

Rainbow closed the distance in an instant, a rainbow trail streaming behind her as she slammed into Rarity. She wrapped her arms around her as she leapt clear over the courtyard statue — what was left of it — and landed on the other side, throwing Rarity to the ground with Rainbow on top of her.

Rainbow covered Rarity with her body; she was taller than Rarity, and broader in the shoulders too, and she angled her body so that she was facing the blast, her arms cradling Rarity's head, her chin resting on Rarity's forehead.

Rainbow closed her eyes, though the brightness of the blast felt like it was burning through her eyelids. She could see the golden light, barely filtered by the shutting of her eyes, and she could feel…

She could feel warmth. She could feel heat, rather; it only felt warm for a second, and then it felt hot. It felt so hot. It felt sort of Vacuo hot; Rainbow had never felt this hot before, but she imagined that it must be what living in the desert felt like.

She heard the grimm cry out in horror; it almost sounded as though they were screaming.

And then it was gone. The sudden heat, passing over her, receded, and the cool night air of Beacon returned.

Rainbow lay there for a moment, on top of Rarity, shielding her protectively. Her breathing was heavy. Her body was shaking a little.

But she was alive.

"Rarity," Rainbow murmured; she coughed, because something had gotten into her throat. "Are you okay?"

"You're a little heavy, darling," Rarity replied, in a voice that was trembling despite her efforts to control it. "But other than that, I'm fine."

Rainbow let out a little ragged laugh. "Sorry," she muttered. She opened her eyes. Everything looked … normal. The statue behind which they'd taken cover was still intact, or at least as intact as it had been before the blast. The courtyard also looked fine, and it looked even better as Rainbow got up, looking around even as she held out a hand to help Rarity get up as well.

In fact, the courtyard looked better than fine because all the grimm were gone. There was not a single one left. There was only their ashes, rising lazily up into the air.

The blast had consumed them anyway, even though it had left the statue and the dorms and the other buildings around the courtyard and now Rainbow could even see the tower again, with its lights glowing in the distance. It all looked as though nothing had happened.

Rainbow coughed again. "Is anyone hurt?" she called. "Is everyone okay?"

"We're okay," said Orlando Adrian, the leader of Team ONYX. "It gave us a scare, but it didn't hurt us." He paused. "Hurt the grimm though, by the looks of things."

"Uh huh," Rainbow said. "All teams," she coughed. "All teams, report in; how are you doing? Just as importantly, how are the grimm doing?"

"What grimm?" Yang asked. "I mean, there was this big flash of light, and I thought we were in big trouble when I saw that explosion, but then, after it got hot for a second, basically nothing. We're all fine here, and more importantly, so are all the civilians. And the airships." There was a pause. "Okay, the civilians are kind of freaked out by what just happened, but I'm sure I can calm them down. It's okay, folks! It is okay! As you can say, we are all alive, and we're not even hurt! And the grimm are gone!"

"The grimm are gone where you are too?" Rainbow asked.

"Oh, yeah, the grimm are all gone. It's like the blast killed them but didn't hurt us."

"Do you think it could be a semblance?" asked Blake, her voice coming out of Rainbow's scroll. "I'm fine, by the way. I'm on my way back to you now, but what do you think that was?"

"I don't know, I've got no idea, but I'm pretty sure it wasn't a semblance," Rainbow replied.

"What makes you so sure?" asked Blake.

"Because it's too big to be a semblance!" Rainbow declared. "And if someone could make an explosion like that with their semblance, why wouldn't they have done it already? And from the tower? Who's even at the tower? Anyway, I'm glad you're okay, and I'm glad you're coming back, but I need to hear the status reports from the other teams; can everyone please keep them coming?"

"Team Sabre here; I think I have broken ribs," Sabine grumbled. "Not because of the explosion but because Bella shoved me out of the way of the explosion, forgetting that my aura was broken."

Rainbow snorted. "That's the price you pay for being a charismatic leader whom your teammates want to protect—"

"Not something you'd know anything about from experience."

Rainbow ignored that. "You should be flattered. No other injuries?"

"Just a lot of dead grimm in front of us."

"Ciel here; I am quite well."

"Team Coffee here; all good."

"Team Gray here; we're fine."

"The Grrrrreat and Powerrrrrrful Trrrrrrixie and her team have escaped without … further loss."

Or any loss at all, Rainbow thought, wondering how in Remnant she was going to break that to Trixie.

"Team Funky reporting; everything is A-OK."

"Team Aspidistra here; we're good to go."

"Team Umber is intact and in good shape," Umber announced. "Although I'm not sure that I'd expect an answer from any Haven team right away."

Rainbow frowned. "Why n—?"

"MISTRAL VICTOR!" the shout that emerged from Rainbow's scroll came from many throats, although Rainbow thought that she could make out Arslan Altan's voice prominently amongst them. "Mistral Victor!"

The shout was repeated, becoming more irregular, individuals losing harmony with one another and allowing Rainbow to pick out the voices of Violet Valeria and her VLCA teammates, hers and Ciel's opponents in the two-on-two round.

She listened for Sun, but didn't think that she could hear him — it still wasn't that easy to make out all the voices, just because there were a lot of them — but she thought that she could make out his buddy Neptune amongst the shouting students.

"Mistral Victor!"

Rainbow was torn between wanting to smile or roll her eyes. And people give Atlas grief for stuff like this. Not that there was anything wrong with a bit of celebration, and Rainbow would be glad to raise a shout once they actually did win.

They hadn't won yet.

Still, it was good that their morale was high, perhaps especially considering that they hadn't won yet.

"Penny," Rainbow said. When there was no answer, she raised her voice. "Penny, can you hear me?"

"Just about, Rainbow Dash," Penny replied.

Rainbow grinned. "Does it look how I imagine it looks over there?"

"Um … everyone's waving their weapons in the air while they shout?"

"Yeah, that's about what I imagined," Rainbow said.

"It feels very exciting," Penny declared. "I wish I could join in."

"I'm sure no one will hold it against you if you do," Rainbow told her.

"But I'm not a Haven student or a Mistralian, so I probably shouldn't," Penny replied. "You don't know if there's a Beacon shout, do you?"

"I'm afraid not," Rainbow answered. "Is Pyrrha joining in?"

"Yes," Penny said. "But her cheeks have gone a little pink."

"You're all okay then?" Rainbow asked. "You, Pyrrha, Jaune?"

"Yes, we're all fine here," Penny announced. "That light didn't seem to do anything to us, even though it destroyed the grimm. It felt … a little weird, when it passed over me, kind of tingly, like static electricity, but then it was gone again. Do you know what it was?"

"No, Penny, I don't; that's what I want you to try and find out for me," Rainbow said. "I want you to go back to the tower and see what you can see, any evidence of what that was. And check on Professor Ozpin again; he's probably fine, but he was a lot closer to the blast than we were, so just make sure."

"Understood!" Penny said. "Pyrrha, Jaune, we've got a job to do!"

"Blake," Rainbow said, before pausing. "No, sorry, Trixie, I need you to get over to the courtyard and take command in my absence." As much as Rainbow liked Blake, and as much as Rainbow thought that Blake could absolutely take command, the fact remained that she wasn't even a team leader, and it might be hard to get people — people who were team leaders, especially — to take orders from her. Trixie was not as good a huntress, but she was a better choice for this.

"Clearly, the Grrrrrrrreat and Powerrrrrrful Trrrrrrixie will be happy to issue all necessary orders," Trixie declared. "But what's this 'in my absence'? Where are you going?"

"I'm going to scout down to the cliffs and see if the grimm are really all gone or if there are any of them still out there," Rainbow said.

"I'll come with you," Blake said. "I'm almost at the courtyard."

"No need; I'll move faster on my own," Rainbow said.

"If the grimm aren't all gone, you'll be glad of the backup."

"And if the grimm aren't all gone, I'll be glad you're here at the lynchpin of the line," Rainbow replied. "Hold your position in the courtyard; I'll report back soon."

She sped off, trailing a rainbow in her wake as she dashed around the side of the dorms and out across the open ground towards the forest-facing cliffs. She pulled her goggles down over her eyes and turned on the night vision mode, so that even as she left the lights of the courtyard and the school behind, she could still see what she was doing — and see any grimm who might still be out here, what was more.

She saw none. She saw — or thought that she saw, because even with night vision, it was hard to make out in the dark — the swirling ashes, gently rising to the sky, that were all that remained of dead grimm, but living grimm? Not a one. Not an ursa or beowolf on the ground, not a nevermore or griffon in the skies; Beacon was deserted of them. There were no growling sounds, no snarls; the only noises that she could hear were the Haven students in the fairgrounds with their tails up. Occasionally, Rainbow stopped running to get a better look around, in case the reason she wasn't seeing any grimm was that she was moving too fast, but even when she stopped and took a look, she still didn't see anything. Not a grimm in sight.

Not a single one.

Of all the grimm who had descended on Beacon, all the grimm who had threatened them just a little while ago, they had all just disappeared.

Swept away by that … whatever it was. Rainbow was loath to keep thinking of it as an explosion, considering that it had only killed grimm and left the people and the buildings completely unharmed, but … what else was it? What else were you supposed to call something that went off with a bang and spread death out from its epicentre?

Besides a real stroke of luck, that was.

With a little more luck, Team SAPR would soon find out what it was that they'd seen and what had saved them; more important was finding out just how completely it had saved them.

Rainbow covered the rest of the distance to the cliffs swiftly and without seeing a single grimm along the way. As she reached the cliffs, she did at least see something other than herself: the redoubtable Atlesian Skybolts with their huge fuel tanks balanced on the tail and their massive Tempest cannons mounted beneath the fuselage. They were swooping across the skies, flying low across the cliff face, but they weren't shooting at anything. They were rolling, turning in the air, flying back and forth across the cliffs without engaging.

Because there was nothing to engage. Rainbow stood on the cliff edge and looked down; she looked in either direction, and she couldn't see a single grimm. Not a one climbing up the cliffs, not one emerging out of the forest. They were all gone. All dead, it seemed.

If she looked south, then unfortunately, the grimm beyond the forest, massed beyond the Green Line, were very much still in evidence; even in the darkness, there were so many of them that their black mass was unmistakable, and they were making enough noise that it was carrying faintly all the way to Rainbow's ears. That was why the Mistralians were being a little premature about their celebration. But as for Beacon, and maybe even for the Emerald Forest, there was nothing to see.

Nothing to see and nothing to worry about.

They were all gone. Dead and gone.

I don't know how it happened, but I'm glad it did.

"Attention everyone," Rainbow announced. "I'm now standing on the edge of the cliffs and can confirm that there are no grimm on the grounds of the school or on the cliffs themselves. Therefore, I want all teams to focus on searching for civilians and getting everyone to the docking pads for evacuation."

"With no grimm gone, why do we still need to evacuate?" asked Nora.

"Because the grimm might come back, and Amity is still safer," Rainbow replied. "Midnight, put me through to General Ironwood."

XxXxX​

Ironwood was forced to turn away, the brightness of the blast that suddenly erupted from near Beacon Tower forcing him to flinch, to cover his face, to screw his eyes tight shut.

"All hands, brace for impact!" he shouted as the explosive dome rushed towards them, consuming buildings, grimm, and airships alike.

He felt an intense momentary buzzing in his brain, felt a sharp, needling sensation in his prosthetics.

And then it was gone, and so was the bright light that had burned its way past his eyelids.

Ironwood opened his eyes to see that the bridge of the Valiant seemed perfectly fine; everyone looked as though they had braced as commanded, but nobody had been thrown out of their seats, nobody had been tossed across the CIC as it was jolted in this or that direction, nobody was injured. Nothing was damaged either; the ship looked completely intact.

"Damage report," he commanded.

"No damage, sir," replied Lieutenant Cunningham. "The ship is intact."

"'No damage'?" Fitzjames muttered as he straightened up in his chair. "What in the gods' names was that?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Fitzjames," Ironwood replied. "Des Voeux, I want status reports from all squadron leaders as soon as they've ascertained the condition of their squadrons."

"Yes, sir," des Voeux said. Speaking into the microphone, he added, "All squadron leaders, determine status of squadrons and report in."

Ironwood walked forwards, past Fitzjames, towards the windows looking out down the nose of the Atlesian cruiser. The long black prow pointed the way like an arrow towards Beacon. It looked intact, no visible damage to any of the buildings, not even to the tower where the explosion — if it was an explosion — had originated. It looked as solid as it had been before the blast.

What he couldn't see out of the windows were any grimm.

"Cunningham, what are our sensors showing?" Ironwood asked.

There was a moment's pause before Cunningham answered. "Sensors are showing all our airships still in the air, no losses that I can make out, no obvious signs of damage … and no grimm on the scope, sir."

"All squadrons are reporting no casualties from the blast, all airships operating normally," des Voeux informed him. "Guardian Leader reports that all the grimm around the cliffs have disappeared. He didn't see them die, but that's his strong suspicion."

"A reasonable assumption," Ironwood muttered. A blast that only kills grimm but does no damage to buildings, ships … or people?

"Some kind of experimental weapon?" Fitzjames suggested. "Something cooked up in the labs by R&D?"

"If it is, they kept it secret from me too, Major," Ironwood replied.

"If it wasn't them, they should get working on it," Fitzjames said. "Seems like a useful thing to have around in a tight spot."

"We'll see," Ironwood said. "Des Voeux, get me Professor Ozpin on the line."

"Yes, sir."

"Ozpin?" asked Fitzjames.

"That blast came from the tower," Ironwood said, turning back towards him, walking away from the windows. "I want to make sure he's okay."

"Would we notice if he wasn't?"

"Fitzjames," Ironwood growled. "That will do."

"Apologies, sir."

"Putting you through now, sir," said des Voeux.

There was another minute after he said that before Ozpin's voice emerged into the bridge. "Ah, James," he said, in a voice that was almost incomparably light compared to when Ozpin had spoken to him last. "I hope that I didn't alarm you too much with that display."

"You hope that didn't alarm … that was you?" Ironwood gasped.

He hadn't really had any hypothesis in his mind as to what the blast might have been, but he hadn't expected — hadn't even considered — that Ozpin might have caused it. He knew the old man had more power than he usually let on about — what he'd done to Qrow was proof of that — but first off, he usually kept those powers a secret, and secondly, Ironwood had never known or suspected that he was that powerful.

It begged the question of why he didn't put forth such displays of power more often.

"Guilty as charged," Ozpin replied. "I remembered what it was criminal of me to have forgotten: that this is my school to defend and that I really had no business at all sitting idle in my office while the students fought so bravely. I can only hope that none of them paid the ultimate price for my folly and self-indulgence."

"I don't have any casualty figures myself," Ironwood said. "But, Oz, how? What was that?"

"My semblance allows me to store energy," Ozpin explained. "When I deal a blow, as I did when I was a younger man, I retain the energy of the blow, stored within me, and the more blows I struck, the more energy builds up. And I allowed a great deal to build up, holding it in my back pocket as it were. And now, I have released it. I think you will find that all the grimm have been eliminated from the school and the skies above it, with no damage to the buildings or, more importantly, harm to the students or the civilians."

Ironwood was absolutely certain that Oz was lying about this, and the reason he was absolutely certain was because Oz didn't have a semblance. He couldn't have one; it was one of the — many — downsides of being Oz. Something about the fact that semblances were a reflection of the soul, but Oz's soul was doomed to be in flux for so long — and not in the usual sense in which souls might change and their semblances evolve with them — that it never settled long enough to reflect anything. Oz's soul, as Oz himself had put it to James once, was like a pool of water being rained upon, and the raindrops were forever disrupting the placidity of the surface and disturbing it with constant ripples. So, if you looked down into the pool, then the ripples would be all you saw.

So, yes, Oz was lying about this blast being the result of his semblance, but on the other hand, he surely remembered telling Ironwood about his lack of semblance and had to know that Ironwood knew that he was lying. Which meant there was another explanation, a more mystical or magical explanation, which he didn't want to speak of in front of Ironwood's officers.

Fair enough. Of all Ozpin's secrets, this was one of the more minor ones; Ironwood would have the chance to get the truth out of him later on, in private.

"I think a lot of people will be glad that you hung onto that trick, even if some also wonder why you didn't use it before," Ironwood said. There were times when it could have been useful — the Breach, Ozpin's Stand against the grimm after the fall of Mountain Glenn — but Ozpin had clearly thought that those situations could be resolved without it, and he'd been right on both counts. "You know I have to ask if you can do it again."

"I'm afraid not, James," Ozpin said. "It took me many years to build up that amount of power; my reserves are all but spent."

Ironwood believed him. Ozpin might lie about what exactly he had done, and how, but if he had the power to repeat the trick, then he would tell Ironwood; he wouldn't let people risk their lives on a lie. And it explained why he hadn't done that party piece before: if you only had one shot, it behooved you to be careful before pulling the trigger.

"That's too bad, but we'll make do somehow," he said. "It's good to have you back, Oz."

"Thank you, James," Ozpin said. "You have heard that we have suffered some treachery amongst the students?"

Meaning Amber. "Yes, I'm aware," Ironwood said. "I told Team Sapphire not to spend too long looking for her; I decided the defence was more important and required all hands on deck."

"That was … your decision to make, at the time," Ozpin said, without passing judgement on whether or not he felt it had been the correct decision. Ironwood couldn't help but feel that Ozpin was damning him with faint praise a little, but at the same time appreciated the old man not criticising a decision that he had washed his own hands of. "And is there any news from Vale?"

"Not yet," Ironwood said. "But Winter's assault should be beginning shortly. I expect good news soon."

"Indeed," Ozpin murmured. "I regret the necessity but have every confidence in your people, nevertheless. And the rest of the grimm? I don't think my power was sufficient to destroy all of them."

A quick look at the scanners displayed in front of him told Ironwood that, no, the main body of the grimm hordes were still massed in front of the Green Line, ready to assault the Atlesian and Valish forces at their leisure. "They're still there," he said. "And Colonel Harper thinks they'll start to attack soon. Apparently, they're getting restless."

And, if he was right about the purpose of all this, then an attack on Vale itself made sense as the next step. Step One: Attack the Amity Colosseum, kill all the students in the skies, cause mass demoralisation from everyone watching on live television; well, that part hadn't worked out for them, but it wasn't a dealbreaker. Step Two: Attack Beacon itself, causing enough confusion that Amber could slip away; Team SAPR could tell them if Ironwood was right about that and whether or not it had worked. Step Three: Attack Vale, drawing defenders away from Beacon down onto the Green Line and the open ground behind it, enabling Amber to return to an empty fortress and claim the Relic.

But, if they didn't walk into the trap that had been laid out for them, if they didn't commit everything to the defence of Vale and Vale was breached for a second time … the same logic that had driven him to order Team SAPR not to pursue Amber now militated against concentrating forces in Beacon to defend the Relic against Amber.

Of course, now that Oz was back, this was his call now, at least partly. "If the grimm do attack," he said, "and I think they will, what do you want to do?"

"I will remain here to guard Beacon, in case the grimm should return," Ozpin declared, "but any students who wish to join in holding the outer defences against the grimm will be welcome to go. I will not stop them. I doubt I could, even if I wished to do so. No doubt, the Valish, Atlesian, and Mistralian students will all wish to stand alongside the soldiers of their kingdoms."

Before Ironwood could respond, des Voeux said, "Sir, Rainbow Dash wishes to speak with you."

Ironwood considered for half a moment. "Patch her through, Lieutenant. Dash, Professor Ozpin can hear you as well."

"Professor," Dash said. "Sir, I guess you saw that explosion just now."

"I did, Dash; it was hard to miss."

"Sir," Dash went on, "I've done a reconnaissance of the grounds, no sign of any grimm. It looks like the blast killed them all, even though it didn't touch us."

"You have Ozpin to thank for that," Ironwood said. "He used … his semblance, to release energy stored as a result of many battles."

There was a pause. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Please do, Miss Dash," Ozpin said before Ironwood could respond.

"Could you have done that this entire time?" Dash demanded, her voice rising with indignation.

"Only once, Dash," Ironwood said.

Dash did not respond except to say, "Sir."

"Miss Dash," Ozpin said. "Do you know if there have been any casualties amongst the students?"

"Amongst the students who dropped with me, no casualties, some injuries ranging from severe to minor," Dash responded. "But we've also found some casualties from students who were here when the grimm attack started. I'm afraid we haven't been able to identify them."

"I see," Ozpin said softly.

"We're treating the lightly injured aboard the Amity Colosseum," Ironwood informed him. "The more serious cases are being transferred to an Atlesian medical frigate for now. Dash, it seems the grimm are likely to move on the Green Line soon, so any Atlas student who wishes to join the defence there should present themselves to Colonel Harper for deployment. I'll have airships sent to ferry you down."

"Understood, sir, what about the non-Atlas students?"

"We can ferry them to the Mistralian command post, but they'll have to make their way to the Valish lines themselves if they wish, for obvious reasons," Ironwood replied.

"Yes, sir," Dash said. "What about defending Beacon? Should I assign a few teams—?"

"No, Miss Dash, I will not hold anyone here who wishes to be elsewhere," Ozpin declared. "The protection of Vale must come first."

"Understood, Professor," Dash said, without giving any clue as to what she thought about that. "I'll pass the word."

XxXxX​

The tower still stood. That was a comfort to Pyrrha as they ran back the way that they had come, through the courtyard and out the other side, heading towards the tower, with its emerald lights still glowing in the darkness.

The tower still stood despite the immense blast that had — according to Rainbow Dash — come from that direction.

Pyrrha hadn't seen it for herself. She had been facing the other way, facing off against the grimm who continued to oppose them in numbers that only seemed to swell with every passing moment. For every grimm that turned to ash, more took its place in a battle without end.

And then the explosion had split the sky. Pyrrha had not turned towards it, although the grimm had, turning their faces southwards. Pyrrha had focussed more upon killing the grimm; if they wanted to succumb to distraction just because an Atlesian airship was firing missiles nearby — she had some hope that General Ironwood had finally unleashed his airships in their support, but she had not allowed herself to become distracted by it — then she was happy to punish them for the lapse in concentration. And so Pyrrha had laid about the grimm with Miló, striking them down while they failed to resist, and though the explosion had continued to rumble on, it was not until the light in the corner of her eyes grew blinding, not until Jaune had grabbed her and started boosting her aura, that she had paid attention to the way that the dome of destruction, the blinding light that blotted out all else, was rushing towards them.

Pyrrha found herself, upon reflection, grateful that she hadn't had any time to think about it before the wave of light, the intense heat that flared up and then disappeared again, passed over them.

Jaune's boost to her aura had not, after all, been needed, for neither she nor he nor Penny nor anyone else had taken any harm, which was a lot more than could be said for the grimm.

No doubt, the cheering of her fellow Mistralians had seemed, to some, to be rather absurdly overblown; did they really have so much to cheer about, especially when the battle was not over yet, and this part of the battle had been won by a miracle rather than by the valour of Mistralian arms — or anyone else's arms, for that matter? Valid points, perhaps, but at the same time, it could not be denied that, by whatever means, they had won. They had held off the grimm, they had protected at least some of the fairgrounds, they had protected the people there, they had won. They had won, and they were entitled to shout about it. And if the battle continued, if there was another attack on Beacon or elsewhere, then it would do no harm for them to go forward and fight knowing that they had already bested the grimm once tonight and could do so again if need be.

If the next battle was against the grimm. Amber must surely return for the Crown of Choice, and when she did…

When she did, someone would have to stop her, and all those fears, everything that Pyrrha had been glad to avoid when General Ironwood had told them not to look too hard for Amber, they would all come back, craving attention, refusing to be put off any longer.

The question of Amber's death would loom once more.

The question of whether they would have to kill her, having called her friend, would loom once more.

Cowardly though it might be, Pyrrha would be glad to put that off for as long as she could.

For now, at Rainbow's command, Penny led them towards the tower, where Rainbow said the explosion had originated. In common with all the other buildings in Beacon, it still looked intact, and if they had escaped the blast unharmed — and everyone else had too, even those closer to the blast like Rainbow or Yang — then there was no reason why Ruby or Professor Ozpin should not have done the same.

No reason, but it would be good to get there and see it for themselves.

They reached the tower, their run carrying them back to the square before it, where all the grimm who had thronged there on their last visit to this place had vanished, without even the swirling of ashes in the air to indicate that they were recently deceased. There was no evidence of their presence whatsoever, only Professor Ozpin, trifling with his cane in one hand.

"Professor!" Penny cried, her pace quickening as she ran out in front of Pyrrha to approach Professor Ozpin. "Professor, are you alright?"

Professor Ozpin smiled down at her. "Thank you, Miss Polendina, I am quite well. In fact, I daresay I am much better than when you saw me last, for which conduct I must apologise. Miss Nikos, Mister Arc."

Pyrrha slowed to a stop just behind Penny, with Jaune doing likewise. "Professor Ozpin."

"Professor," Jaune murmured.

"As I say, I owe you all an apology," Professor Ozpin murmured. "I was unfairly hostile and … unforgivably dilatory. I failed in my duties, in every capacity." He paused. "I am glad to see you all well. When Miss Dash told me there had been injuries, I feared that you might have been among them."

"No, we're alright, Professor," Penny replied. "We protected one another."

"I'm glad to hear it," Professor Ozpin said, the smile still on his face. "And now, I imagine that you are back here to investigate the blast that came from this direction, that slew the grimm but harmed neither man nor structure?"

Penny nodded. "Rainbow Dash sent us to have a look around."

Professor Ozpin chuckled. "As it happens, I have already provided an explanation to Miss Dash: she believes, as the world will believe, that I have a semblance that allows me to store energy, the results of past battles, and to release that store of energy in just such an explosive torrent as you have witnessed."

"'Believes,'" Pyrrha repeated. "You mean it isn't true, Professor?"

"It is not too far from the truth, Miss Nikos, but the truth is a little less prosaic," Professor Ozpin replied. He held up his cane. "This cane is not an ordinary walking stick; it is not even the ordinary weapon of a huntsman. It was fashioned by a wizard of immense power in ancient days, before even the original Four Maidens were blessed — or cursed — with their magic. The wizard who created it made it in such a way that it — and not my semblance — stores up the kinetic energy generated by its use. With every blow that is struck with this cane, a little more energy — the energy of the blow itself — is stored within this mechanism." He briefly held his thumb over the gears at the base of the handle. "And can be released, either in part or in full, by the wielder at any time of their choosing." His voice dropped. "Well does it deserve the name Long Memory, for the echoes of many battles are — have been — contained within this weapon. It is not a Relic of the gods, but it is a relic of our circle and has been borne by my predecessors down the ages before being passed on to me."

"There are magic weapons too?" Penny gasped.

Professor Ozpin chuckled. "I'm afraid so, Miss Polendina, but fortunately, they are few in number and very rare." He paused, and the smile faded from his face. "General Ironwood tells me that he ordered you not to search very hard for Amber."

"That's right, Professor," Penny said. "We reported to Rainbow Dash, and she sent us to help in the fight at the fairgrounds."

Professor Ozpin nodded. "Nevertheless, I must ask if you … I do not suppose you found her, but any evidence of her whereabouts or destination?"

"She left the school, Professor," Penny announced.

"Benni Haven, the restaurant owner, saw her leaving by the road south to Vale," Jaune added. "They told her that they were escorting Amber away from the fighting because she was scared."

"There is a certain irony in that, if I had been more in my right mind, I would have ordered Miss Rose to do the same," Professor Ozpin murmured. "But they, Mister Arc, who are 'they'?"

"According to Benni Haven, she was joined by Dove and Lyra," Pyrrha said. "And by Bon Bon and Tempest Shadow."

Professor Ozpin closed his eyes. "So, of the four names Cinder gave us, three of them seem to have been proven correct."

"It seems so, Professor," Pyrrha murmured.

Professor Ozpin tapped the butt of Long Memory upon the floor. It clicked against the stone of the plaza. "So, she is gone; she used the chaos of the battle to escape."

"But she might come back," Jaune said.

"Yes, Mister Arc, I daresay she will," Professor Ozpin replied. "As Miss Fall pointed out, had I been willing to listen, there is only one thing that Amber could offer Salem to barter for her life and liberty."

Pyrrha felt a chill settle upon her stomach. They were come to it, the question of Amber's fate. "What…" She swallowed, her throat straining a little at the restraint of her gilded gorget. "Professor, what will become of her?"

Professor Ozpin sighed. "I do not desire Amber's end," he said. "Greatly do I not desire it. I … still remember when she was a child and she would run to me so excitedly when I came visiting."

I failed to speak up for one friend; I would be remiss indeed to ignore another so hard upon. "I do not believe that she has a wicked spirit, Professor," Pyrrha said. "I … I think she is afraid, no more than that."

"After what she did to Ruby?" Jaune asked.

"She could have killed Ruby, smothered her with a pillow," Pyrrha replied. "But she did not."

"You are very kind, Miss Nikos, but more importantly, I think that you are right in this," Professor Ozpin said. "Perhaps it is simply that I would not like to believe it so. But I cannot … I have allowed my affection for Amber to cloud my judgement too much already, I cannot continue to do so. I will not. Nor will I allow the Relic of Choice to fall into the hands of Salem, I cannot." He smiled, though it was a wan smile and scarcely reached his eyes. "It does credit to your nature that you do not wish to fight against one whom you called friend, nor will I ask you to do so lightly. Amber is my mistake and one that I intend to put right myself, if Amber comes this way again."

"'Put right,' Professor?" asked Penny. "What does that mean?"

"What Amber herself allows it to mean, in part," Professor Ozpin said. "But, if it should become necessary, can I rely on you to defend the Relic and keep it out of the hands of Salem, even if it means facing Amber in battle, even if it means … killing her?"

There was a moment of silence. None of them spoke, not even Jaune. Pyrrha hoped, she thought, that he would not hold that pause against them, for it was a hard thing that he asked. A very hard thing.

A hard thing, but a necessary one. He was right; as horrible as it was to contemplate, as wretched as it felt, there were some things that came before their friendship with Amber, a friendship that Amber had chosen to sunder and betray in any case. And one of those things, surely, was one of the four Relics that Salem sought and which Amber would seek to give to her.

If ever there was a cause in which to fight a friend, was it not that? Not even friendship's sake could justify standing aside for that, surely.

The thought of Amber's blood on Miló's edge intruded once more into Pyrrha's thoughts.

My ancestors did more than this, even to those whom they loved dearly, and for lesser causes.

Stand with me now and put your heart into me.

"You can, Professor," Pyrrha said, and hoped that her voice did not tremble as she said it.

She could do it. She hoped that she would not have to do it, she hoped that very much, but if it came to it, if it was necessary, then she could do it.

"Yes," Jaune said. "You can."

"That's right," Penny agreed. "We'll do … whatever it takes."

"I'm glad to hear it," Professor Ozpin said. "But for now, I will remain here and defend the school, while if you are willing—"

"Ruby?" Penny asked, gasping.

Pyrrha gasped as well as she followed Penny's gaze behind Professor Ozpin to the doors into the CCT.

The doors that had just opened as Ruby emerged and began to descend the stairs.

 

[ScipioSmith]

The Knight of Roses

​

The Knight of Roses sat up.

She was not altogether certain where she was, save that she was in a room of some sort. A dark room, with cobwebs strung along the corners of the walls and little furniture but the hard bed on which she sat, a little wooden table with a jug upon it — and a modest dressing table with a cracked mirror.

The mirror was covered in dust, its reflective surface dulled even where the glass had not vanished from the frame, but the Knight got up off the hard bed and approached it nonetheless.

She reached out with one armoured hand — her armour was dull, tarnished in places with rust as red as roses; it would not have shone even had there been any light within this dark and nearly lightless room to shine by — to brush at the mirror. She wiped away very little dust but feared she was in danger of scratching the glass.

She leaned forwards and blew; a little more of the dust was blown away, though it was blown away into her face. Nevertheless, by the little light that entered through a crack in the boarded up window, the Knight could see herself, in part.

She was all clad in armour. Nothing of who she was or what she looked like beneath was visible; her face was concealed beneath an armet helm, fully enclosed, and a gorget encircled her neck; a cuirass embraced her body, pauldrons, rerebrace, couter, vambrace, gauntlet, and so on; every part of her was covered in dull and tarnished metal. There was not a single inch of her to be seen.

Not a single inch of her was vulnerable. The world might beat in all its fury upon her, but she was armoured proof against its terrors and temptations.

Her besagews, that sat upon her elbows, protecting the joints where the cuirass met the pauldrons, were crafted to look like roses; they alone, of all her armour, possessed some gleam about them, a silvery sheen even in this dark place. Upon the rest of her armour, the vambraces and rerebrace upon her arms, the gauntlets that enclosed her hands, the cuirass over her chest, even her gauntlet, upon all her armour had been worked not roses but thorns, lines of thorns wrapped around her neck, crawling over her chest, winding their way around her arms, reaching her fingers, and all the thorns had sharp spikes jutting upwards as though they meant to prick unwary enemies.

A red cape, as red as blood, hung from her shoulders down her back. The Knight turned around enough to see in the mirror that her cape was ragged, torn at the hem.

She was in disrepair. She had been ill-used, she was sure, to reach such a state, although … she could not recall how that might have been.

Where was she? What was she doing here? What was her quest?

The Knight turned away from the mirror; she would get no answers gazing on her own reflection.

She would have to seek them elsewhere.

By the door leading out of the little room in which she had awoken, she found a sword and shield placed. The shield was round and made of wood, broad in size, with an iron band around the rim. It was painted black and decorated with four roses, two red and two white, occupying the four quadrants of the shield, while strings of green thorns crawled in the space between them. The sword was a sickle blade that curved forwards with the cutting blade on the inside, not the out. The blade, in contrast to the Knight's armour, was not in the least bit touched by tarnish or by rust. The hilt was crafted out of black ebony, and in the pommel of the sword was set a glistening ruby cut in the shape of a rose.

The Knight picked up the sword; it felt well balanced in their hand, which the blade fitted as though it had been made for her. Perhaps it had been, though she did not recall.

But she was the Knight of Roses, and sword and shield alike were rose adorned and here with her. It would be a curious thing indeed if they were not meant for her.

So the Knight took up the shield also, thrusting her arm through the straps; there was no sheath to secure the sword, so the Knight thrust it into their belt as she walked out of the room. This place was dark and dusty everywhere, undecorated and unloved-seeming. She was confronted by a narrow wooden staircase turning around plain white daubed walls, and the Knight followed that staircase down. The steps creaked beneath her tread.

At the bottom of the staircase, there was a door, a door that — by the amount of light streaming in — led outside into the sunlight. The Knight quickened her step, striding out of the open door and into the daylight.

She did not fear the light. Some did, she knew, wicked creatures who loathed the light that shone on their misdeeds, but the Knight of Roses was a servant of the light, its stalwart defender and its champion. Though all others forsook goodness and virtue, she would remain faithful.

She turned around. She stood in a forest, a forest that was in the grip of Fall, all the leaves turned red, some drifting down to the ground below, though there seemed to be no shortage still on the trees.

Behind her, the place she had awoken was revealed to be an old cottage, a tumbledown-looking place with a sagging roof and walls stained with muck and mildew.

How had she come to be here, and to what purpose?

The Knight of Roses turned away. The answers would no doubt be found before her, not behind.

And before her, only a short way down the path that led from the cottage deeper into the woods, was a little creature, a sort of starfish that seemed to be — that was — made of bright sunny yellow paper. It had no face, no eyes, no mouth, and the only thing that distinguished head from arms and legs was that it stood upon two points of the star and used two more to hold a broom with which it was sweeping leaves off the path, which meant the uppermost point must be its head.

It was a Paper Pleaser, the Knight knew, although she could not have said how she knew that.

The Knight approached and cleared her throat. The sound echoed out of her closed helm.

The Paper Pleaser had been bent down upon her sweeping, but now looked up. "Brave Knight!" they cried, for all that they had no mouth. "Thank goodness you are awake! The Princess has been kidnapped by the Wicked Witch of the Setting Sun! Please, go forth and rescue her, before it's too late!"

A quest! Now, the Knight's path was clear, in spirit if not in fact. They had a foe before them, and a goal; surely, they had come here in the first place to rescue the princess, and slay this foul witch, whose very name spoke of darkness.

"I shall, at once," the Knight declared. "Fear not; no evil shall stand before my might!"

"Excellent!" cried the Paper Pleaser. "I would go myself, but these leaves won't sweep themselves."

"A heavy loss, but I shall try and make do on my own," the Knight said dryly. "Do you know where the witch and the Princess may be found?"

"Good luck on your journey, brave knight," the Paper Pleaser said, resuming her sweeping. "There isn't a moment to lose to rescue the Princess."

"I am sure not," the Knight replied, "but if you could give me perhaps a direction, I will be on my way at once."

"Good luck on your journey, brave knight," said the Paper Pleaser, still sweeping up in that same patch of the path. "There isn't a moment to lose to rescue the Princess."

The Knight felt this was not very helpful, but it was clear they were not going to get anything more out of the Paper Pleaser.

Once more, she looked around; there was only one path that she could see, though even that was half covered in the falling leaves of red and gold. She would follow it, for want of any better direction in which to go; if the path did not lead her to the Princess, then it would hopefully lead to someone of more sense than the Paper Pleaser who would be able to answer her questions.

The Knight of Roses began to walk down the path, the fallen leaves crunching beneath her armoured feet.

There was a brief rise in the ground, though it hardly exerted the Knight to climb up it, beyond which she could see a little stable, in no better state of repair than the cottage that she had just left, with the wooden boards falling apart and holes in the straw roof.

But the Knight was in need of a mount — she could be a knight without a horse, but a steed would bear her more swiftly on her quest — and what was theft when weighed against the cause in which she was engaged?

So she walked towards the stable, and her heart was gladdened when a horse emerged from it, albeit a horse of a very curious colour: yellow, with black stripes like a zebra running up and down its body.

Bumblebee. The horse's name was Bumblebee. The Knight of Roses knew that, although she did not remember how she knew, and she did not remember who the horse belonged to, although she remembered that it belonged to someone.

Someone who would be vexed if the unusually coloured horse were to vanish.

But her need was great. As the Paper Pleaser had said, there was no time to lose in rescuing the Princess.

The Knight took a step towards Bumblebee, who shied away, looking at the Knight with one suspicious yellow eye.

The Knight was about to take another step forward when she heard something growling behind her.

She turned, her right hand reaching for the sword at her belt, to be confronted with an enormous wolf. Not a beowolf, an actual wolf, a black wolf as large as a horse with thick fur and silver eyes looking right at her, its eyes piercing her visor and her armour and seeming to see into the Knight's very soul.

The Knight of Roses was righteous, she was a servant of all things good and just, she was a warrior for the people, she was un chevalier sans peur et sans reproche, if any had the right to claim that title, and yet, the way the wolf looked at her with those eyes of silver caused her to recoil a pace, and she felt as though some of the pricking thorns that covered her armour had turned inwards to prick at her instead.

The Knight's hand was frozen; she did not reach for her blade. Rather, having taken a step back, she was still, while the wolf stared at her, a low rumbling sound rising out of its throat.

"I…" the Knight murmured. "I thought my need for the horse was great, but I suppose that the need of the farmer for a horse to pull his plough is also great, as great as that of a princess for a rescuer."

She had no idea whether the wolf would understand her words — and no real reason to expect she would — but … but she felt guilty; the wolf's gaze made her guilty, and so she spoke the words that rose most rapidly when she considered her guilt.

The wolf continued to stare, its face impassive, its eyes harder than the silver they resembled.

Then the wolf turned away and bent its legs, lowering its body towards the ground.

"Mount," the wolf commanded in a deep, gruff growl.

"You can talk?" the Knight exclaimed.

"I can, although I say nothing when I have nothing to say," the wolf replied. "I will bear you through the forest, to the castle of the Witch of the Setting Sun, where she holds the Princess captive. Come, mount. My back is strong enough to bear your weight."

"Will not my armour prick you with its thorns?" asked the Knight.

"My hide is tougher than your thorns are sharp," said the wolf.

"Why would you help me? What is the Princess or my quest to you?" asked the Knight.

The wolf was silent a moment, before he said, "Like you, I would see right done. What reason need I more than that? Come, are you not in haste?"

And so, the Knight mounted the wolf, climbing upon his back, gripping some of his long, black fur with her gauntlet-clad hands. He didn't protest, nor did he make a sound or act as though he was in any way hurt by the thorns that grew from her armour, or that he was discomfited by her weight. He bore her easily, steadily, and he leapt forward at a run as though she weighed nothing at all to him.

The wolf raced down the leaf-strewn path with the Knight on his back, the trees and their scarlet leaves a blur as they flew by. The distance was devoured by the wolf's tread, and the Knight's red cape streamed out behind her as she was borne along, grateful for her armour which protected her from the buffeting of the air that otherwise would have surely raced towards her.

As the wolf ran on, the Knight began to hear sounds coming through the forest, sounds which sometimes grew louder and sometimes softer, as though they were passing by those who made the sound, drawing near but then leaving them behind: they were the sounds of marching feet tramping upon the ground, the thunderous thumps of heavy footsteps, the roars and growls of monstrous grimm.

This was a world of danger. A world where brigands lurked and monsters stalked and armies marched. A world where innocent travellers feared to walk the roads. The Knight would change all that, if she could, but she had no time now to right every wrong, to fight every battle, to hunt down all monsters. She would turn her attention to them all, and none would escape her wrath, but right now, her quest claimed her energies and her attention: the rescue of the Princess, the downfall of this most foul witch. All else must wait until after.

The wolf bore the knight all the way to a crossroads, where three ways lay open to them: due west, where the signpost pointed the way to Patch; southwest, which the sign proclaimed would lead to Starhead; and southeast, to a place called Mountain Glenn.

Mountain Glenn, that was a name of ill-omen; it filled the Knight's heart with dread, though she knew not why. She had forgotten, but she had not forgotten the feeling of foreboding that the name inspired in her.

"Do you know these names?" the Knight asked the wolf.

"Nay," the wolf said. "Your names mean nought to me, but I know smells, and only one path smells sweet to my nose: the southwest path."

The Knight could not smell so well, could not distinguish between sweet smells and foul, but nevertheless, she understood the wolf perfectly. The name of Patch was … tempting and yet not. It evoked distant silver sounds, and yet, at the same time, it was as if those same sounds, though they might once have welcomed her, now bade her turn away and choose another route. And as for Mountain Glenn … that name made her want to turn away without even the consolation that it might once have bestowed some welcome on her. Of the three, only the name of Starhead brought any joy to her heart, only it attracted her rather than repelling, whether the repulse be gentle or severe. Her heart desired to bid the wolf take her that way, towards Starhead, but how likely was it that the Witch was to be found in a place the Knight would want to go? Would she not likely be rather in the foulest place that could be found?

Was it not more likely that the Knight's quest would take them to those places she most desired not to go?

"Perhaps they will know?" the wolf said, gesturing with his head towards a girl sitting on a rock not far from the crossroads, with her back to the Knight and the wolf.

The Knight looked at her. The girl was young and small, with short black hair trimmed at the tips as red as blood. She was dressed as if for bed, for some strange reason, too lightly dressed to be out in such a land as this, and in her hand, she held a stick, which she was waving down towards the earth, as if she wished to scratch it but couldn't quite reach.

Although she could always have gotten off the rock. Perhaps she simply liked waving a stick about.

Perhaps she was a strange child, too strange to be of any real help to them.

Yet there was no one else around, so the Knight supposed they would have to approach such folk as fortune threw across her path.

"Hello there!" the Knight called out. "Can you help us?"

The girl on the rock looked round at them. She stared for a moment, then leapt down off her rocky perch and scampered towards them. Her eyes, the Knight saw, were silver, just like the wolf.

"You are the Knight of Roses," she observed.

"I have that honour," the Knight declared proudly, for she was glad to be recognised and not ashamed to admit the fact; she had done deeds worthy of recognition and would have done deeds further still, and greater still, if only she had been allowed. "And you are?"

"A girl," said the girl. "A poor girl, a country girl, a girl of woods and leaves." She smiled. "A girl of metal and gears, a girl of stories, a girl of capes, a girl of needle and thread, a girl of weapons—"

"You are a girl of many things, it seems," the Knight said.

"Aren't we all?" asked the girl. "Aren't you?"

"I am a knight," proclaimed the knight. "A true knight, a brave knight, a knight of courage and resolve, a knight without fear—"

"That sounds like a lot of things."

"It is one thing," said the knight. "Or rather … it is all things bound in one, as the clover has three leaves but is yet one clover, all things in me around bound in one, bound beneath my armour, bound in knighthood." She paused. "What brings a young girl to such a place as this? Whither are you bound?"

"I am bound for Patch," the girl replied. "I'm going home to my father and sister."

"And your mother?" the Knight asked.

The girl was silent for a moment. "My mother does not wait for me there. Perhaps she's waiting for you instead."

The Knight did not know what the girl meant by that, unless she was delivering a prophecy of the Knight's death. If that was so, then … then it would be so; she had no fear of it. So long as she could rescue the Princess first, then she would gladly expire from her wounds afterwards. "For my own part, I am on a quest," she said. "I seek to rescue the Princess from the Wicked Witch of the West. Do you know where I may find them both?"

The girl nodded. "I know where they are. I saw the Wicked Witch go past here not long ago, only she didn't seem very wicked to me. She gave me a song."

"You are fortunate she gave you nothing else," the Knight muttered. "Yes, I have no doubt that she seemed not wicked to you. In faith, she can seem fair indeed when she wishes to; she seems fair, and with her fairness, she draws in victims, lures them as a spider into her web and, with her honeyed words, ensnares them such that they cannot escape even when her foulness stands revealed."

The girl cocked her head to one side. "You don't like her, do you?"

"I hate her," the Knight hissed. "I would strike her down, if the chance presented itself, and rid this land of her villainy once and for all."

The girl folded her arms. "Is that why you became a knight, to strike down the wicked?"

The Knight was quiet a moment. "Nay," they said. "I … I wished to save people."

"And did you?"

"Some," the Knight said. "Less than I would, if I had been allowed."

"But now you want to kill people instead of saving them?"

"Sometimes, the best way to save people is to kill wicked people who would otherwise do them harm," the Knight said.

"Hmm," the girl murmured. "I … guess. But she didn't seem very wicked to me."

"That is because you are a child and know nothing of the world and its realities," the Knight said haughtily.

"What does that make you, then?" asked the girl.

The Knight stared down at her in incomprehension. What did that … what sort of a question was that? What else would it make her but a knight? Why would this child ask such a thing?

"What can it make me but what I am?" demanded the Knight. "Have you no respect for my spurs, for my armour and my blade?"

"Nope," said the girl. "I only respect people I agree with."

The Knight could not help but snort. "I should put you over the back of my mount and spank you for your impertinence, but that I admire your courage to speak so boldly. You said you saw the Witch, wicked or no, pass by here? Will you not tell me where she went, which path?"

"She went to Mountain Glenn," said the girl. "Obviously."

"Obviously," muttered the Knight, for she had spent a great deal of time bandying words with a precocious youth only to learn what her own instincts had told her straight away. "Fare you well, then, and I hope your father and sister are as tolerant of your precocious tongue as I have been."

She said no other words to the girl, and the wolf must have known that she didn't mean to say anything else to her, for it bore her off, moving at a walk down the road towards Mountain Glenn. The wolf did not run as it had done before they reached the crossroads, but he did move away, and they began to leave the girl behind them.

"She knew her own heart," said the wolf approvingly.

"She knew her own heart better than she knew the world," said the Knight. "And knowing the world will be the changing of her heart, I guarantee it."

"Is that what happened to you?" asked the wolf.

"I … do not recall," the Knight admitted. "Is that of any consequence?"

"Might you have thought differently," the wolf suggested, "once upon a time?"

"Nay," said the Knight. "Always, my heart would have desired to save the Princess."

"And slay the Wicked Witch?" asked the wolf. "Would your heart have always desired that also?"

"The Wicked Witch," said the Knight. "If you knew what she had done to me—"

"To you?"

"To the world!" the Knight said quickly. "If you knew what she had done, you would not question that she deserves death."

"If all got what they deserve, it would be a very empty world, no?" asked the wolf.

The Knight could scarcely argue with that; it was a wicked world, and barren of real virtue; were the Knight to spare only those that she deemed virtuous, then she would lay waste to many that a knight was sworn to protect.

But that did not excuse the Wicked Witch what she had done. What she had done to— to the world, to everyone.

This was not personal. It was only duty.

The wolf moved slowly, walking along the southeast road, leaves crunching beneath his padded feet, turning to mush as he trampled them. The Knight would have liked for him to pick up speed a little, but if he did not want to take the dread road to Mountain Glenn, then she could hardly blame him.

"If you do not want to carry me here, I will walk," she told the wolf. "You have no obligation to me, or to the Princess."

The wolf growled. "I said that I would bear you on your quest, and I will. I may have no obligation to you, but I have obligation to myself."

"Wait!" cried a girl's high-pitched voice from behind them. "Please, wait for me!"

The Knight looked around to see a jade green doll, the size of a man, running down the patch after them. She — so the Knight assumed because of her voice, although her body could have been that of a man — was, or seemed to be, made all out of green glass, and though she was made to look like a person with arms, legs, torso, and a head, her head had no features, no eyes, nose, or mouth. Like Yang, her voice seemed to come from nowhere, and yet, it did come, and it was a sweet sound to the Knight's ears.

The wolf stopped, and the Jade Doll ran up beside him, stopping when she was level with the Knight.

"Brave knight," she said. "You are the Knight of Roses, aren't you?"

"I am," the Knight said. "What would you have of me?"

"I would come with you!" the Jade Doll said. "I have run away from the camp of the White Company and sold my horse and armour to buy my freedom from the tin captain. I don't want to be a soldier, but I would love to be a knight like you. Let me come with you, and squire for you, and learn from you what it is to be a knight so gallant and fearless."

"It will be dangerous," the Knight warned her. "We are on a perilous road."

"I'm ready!" proclaimed the Jade Doll. "I'm combat ready, though I sold my weapons along with my horse and armour. But I promise, you won't find my heart wanting."

The Knight looked down at the wolf upon whose back she rode.

"I can carry two as easily as one," the wolf said, as though he could read her mind.

"Then climb aboard," the Knight said. "And welcome aboard. I would tell you to hold onto me, but you may get pricked by my thorns."

"I don't mind," said the Jade Doll as she climbed up onto the wolf's back and wrapped her green arms around the Knight's waist. "I only get hurt on the inside."

The wolf began to run, running as he had run before, tearing up the distance between them and their destination. The forest began to change as the wolf ran on, bearing them further and further down the southeast road, closer and closer towards Mountain Glenn, that evil-omened place. The trees began to look sickly or dead, the leaves of scarlet disappeared or were replaced with black, dead leaves, the branches drooped down towards the ground, the trunks became caked with slime and lichen, and poisonous-looking mushrooms began to sprout up in the spaces between the leaves. A mist began to float about the wolf's feet, obscuring the ground beneath from view. The sunlight began to disappear, and the whole world darkened.

A sound began to echo through the dying trees, a cacophonous, yapping, barking sound, like thirty hounds questing on the hunt.

But if the Knight was right, then all that noise in its discord was coming from a single throat.

The wolf stopped, a growl rising from his own throat in answer to the baying of the legion. His fur began to rise, and he bared his teeth.

The Knight dismounted. "Wait here," she told the Jade Doll. "You have no weapons, so remain, and trust to the wolf to protect you."

For her own part, she drew her sickle sword once more and held her shield before her as she walked before the wolf, ready and waiting.

The sound of many hounds drew closer and closer, until the Knight could see the beast that made that sound in all its ugliness. It was a Questing Beast, a hideous, misshaped chimera of a thing, with the head and long, sinuous neck of a snake, the spotted body of a leopard, the haunches of a lion, and the cloven hooves of a deer. The sounds of all those hounds issued from its throat as it waved its long, serpentine neck back and forth before the Knight.

And on its back, there sat the Wicked Witch of the Setting Sun.

She wore scraps and patches of armour here and there — a pauldron on one shoulder, vambraces upon her arms, a buff coat of black leather — but for the most part, she was unprotected. Her heart was vulnerable, without the armour that the Knight wore to proof it against danger and disappointment alike. Her eyes were green and glimmered snakelike in a face that looked fair, concealing how foul it truly was beneath. Her hair was vivid red and gold, like flames, and spilled down across her shoulders and down her back; a pair of pony ears emerged from it, poking up above the hair like mountains rising above the mist. She wore a sword — a black sword, straight and double-edged — strapped across her back.

She dismounted, revealing a tail between her legs the same colour as her hair, and patted her ugly mount upon its snake's head as she advanced towards the Knight. Her look was grave; in her long acquaintance, the Knight had noticed that the Witch's look was often grave; it was part of how she convinced the unwary that she was making hard but necessary decisions. In that way did she cover over her villainy and give it a veneer of anguished rectitude.

The Knight did not believe it for a moment.

"Rose Knight," the Witch said. "Well met."

"Ill met," replied the Knight. "No meeting with you will ever be well with me."

The Witch's ears drooped. "You … you have my love, and always will, though I concede it may not always seem so by my actions towards you."

"It matters not," the Knight said sharply. "It matter not one bit whether you love me or no, not while you hurt others with your wickedness!"

"Who have I hurt this time, to bring you here?" inquired the Witch.

"The Princess you have abducted!" the Knight shouted. "Where is she?"

The Wicked Witch did not reply. Instead, she looked over the Knight's head at the wolf and the Jade Doll upon her back. "I see you have a new mount," she observed.

"You have the same wretched creature to ride as always," growled the Knight.

"Bite your tongue! He is a faithful beast," the Wicked Witch said, reaching out with one hand to rub the snake's head. To the Jade Doll she said, "How now, Miss? I have not seen you before?"

"Do not answer," the Knight said. "She will twist your words."

"Let her speak," the Witch said, in a voice heavy and insistent.

The Jade Doll hesitated. "I … I wish to be a knight, like this brave Knight of Roses, and she has let me accompany her, to witness her courage and to learn from her."

"And why is it that you want to be a knight?" asked the Witch. "Does your heart burn with a zeal for justice?"

Again, the Jade Doll hesitated. "I … want companionship," she said. "For in the camp of the White Company, I was very lonely, and I hope that the knights, so good and gallant, will be my friends; I hope that, though I am just a doll, they will treat me like a person."

"You are a person," said both the Knight and the Witch at once.

The Knight huffed.

The Witch smirked. "The Princess is with me," she admitted.

"Then let her go, you villain!" the Knight demanded.

"Let her go to where, and to what fate?" demanded the Witch in turn. "In this world so full of peril, so besieged by monsters, so marched across by armies and marauding brigand bands, what fate awaits a princess in such a world as this? What fate awaits anyone? What fate awaits us all? Death. Death and darkness. The Princess is with me," she repeated. "The Princess is safe with me, protected by me, invulnerable within the walls of my fortress. She sleeps there, upon a goosedown mattress, with soft pillows on which to lay her head. She sleeps, eternal and immortal, away from harm. Safe from any who might do her harm." She reached out gingerly towards the Knight, then pulled back her hand. "The Champion sleeps there too, and the Knight of Sunbeams. They lie in twin beds, hands reaching out to touch one another."

She smiled, though it was a frosty smile, and the Knight would have called it a sad smile had she thought a wicked witch to be capable of sadness.

"I will gather them all, if I may," the Witch declared. "The Wild Warrior and all the rest, and you, too, may come and be gathered in, and I will keep you safe from all those who would mistreat you. In this world so full of cruelty, I will make a refuge of my heart's delight, and delightful hearts shall safely beat within it."

"You have made a cage," the Knight spat. "A cage with flowers growing around it, a prison with pleasant pictures on the walls, but a prison nonetheless."

"That is not my intent," said the Witch.

"Intent or no, it is your outcome," said the Knight. "And for your outcome, I will strike you down!"

The Witch drew her black sword, even as she said, "Stay your hand, righteous knight. I would not fight you." She retreated back a step. "I cannot persuade you to turn away from here, to give up this quest, to leave the Princess and all those I care for in my charge?"

"No," said the Knight. "For I will never turn aside from what is right. Just as I will never forgive you what you have done."

"Then no doubt we shall fight," said the Witch as she mounted the Questing Beast once more. "But not now. Not yet. Perhaps not…" She sheathed her sword. "Turn away, Knight of Roses, for both our sakes."

But it was the Questing Beast who turned away, with the Witch upon its back, still growling like a clamour of dogs upon the hunt as it scampered off, vanishing into the recesses of the darkening forest.

"She didn't seem very wicked," said the Jade Doll.

"She abducts people!" squawked the Knight in dismay. "She puts spells on them! She keeps them in eternal sleep!"

"I didn't say she wasn't wrong," protested the Jade Doll. "Just that she doesn't seem very wicked about it."

"No," the Knight agreed. "No, she doesn't seem very wicked, does she? That's why nobody sees her that way." She thrust her sword back into her belt. "Nobody has ever seen her that way. The Champion, the Knight of Sunbeams, the Old Man of the Tower, none of them saw it. They all trusted her. They all … chose her." She would have looked down, but all her armour made that very difficult. "They all thought that…" She trailed off.

The Jade Doll leaned forward upon the back of the wolf. "What did they think?"

"It doesn't matter," said the Knight. "She isn't what they all thought she was."

"Then what is she?" asked the wolf.

"She is our enemy, that's all," said the Knight, as she mounted the wolf's back once more. "Now let's keep moving. We still have a way to go."

The Jade Doll placed her arms around the Knight's waist as the wolf began to run again; the path was becoming harder to see — for the Knight at least — as the sky became darker above, and the dark, dying trees with drooping limbs and branches that seemed to be reaching out towards them grew ever closer, but the wolf seemed able to instinctively find the way forward, to know which way to go, to find the path that had become lost to the eyes of the Knight of Roses.

The wolf ran, and as the wolf ran, the Knight thought that she could see lights up ahead: fires burning on the ground and lanterns hung from the decaying branches of old trees. There might be someone up ahead, but in a place like this, anyone choosing to make camp was more likely foe to them than friend.

A glass arrow flew out of the darkness, whipped past the Knight's face, and buried itself in the trunk of the nearest tree, rather proving the point.

"Stand and deliver," purred a woman who stepped out from behind another tree, illuminated by the light of a nearby burning fire. She was tall, with night-dark hair that looked very well taken care of in the circumstances, cascading down one side of her face, hiding one eye from view. She was armoured all in glass, but being glass, it was perfectly possible to see through it to the fiery red dress she wore beneath. In one hand, she held a bow of black obsidian, and black too was the paint upon her lips and nails.

"Stand and deliver what?" asked the Jade Doll.

The woman paused for a moment. "Well, why don't we start with your lives, and then I'll take anything else I want off your bodies?"

"That doesn't sound very nice," observed the Jade Doll.

"No, it doesn't, does it?" purred the woman, sounding very pleased about the fact. "For I am no kind or gentle creature. I am the Brigand of Glass and Ashes, a plain, fair-dealing villain, and I laugh at the very idea of being nice." She began to cackle wickedly, just to prove it.

The Knight leapt down from the wolf's back, planting herself between the wolf and the Jade Doll and the Brigand. "Are you an ally of the Wicked Witch?"

"'The Wicked Witch'? 'The Wicked Witch'?" the Brigand repeated, turning her head upwards, tapping her foot. "Ah, yes, the Wicked Witch! I know her of old. What a drip. No, I am no friend of hers." She smiled. "She thinks she can keep all her little pets safe from me behind her walls. She thinks that she can lock them in their bedrooms, away from any unsuitable princes, but one day, I will creep over her walls and slink about the shadows slitting the throats of the Princess and the Champion and all the rest. And then I'll slit her throat too, but first, I'll give her time to realise what I've done."

The Knight stepped forward. "You will not! I will save the Princess from the Witch, and all her other victims too, but first, I'll bring your life to a close. Your end is here, villain!"

The Brigand grinned. "My, how you storm." Her glass bow dissolved in her hand, reforming into a pair of scimitars. "Come then, brave knight, gallant knight, renowned knight, virtuous knight, righteous and self-righteous knight. Come, all your qualities, come, and I'll spill your blood that's red like roses!"

She charged, and the Knight charged towards her in turn, crashing across the ground to get to grips with her enemy. She already knew how she would win this battle. The Brigand might have armoured herself in glass, but the Knight was armoured in steel, and tarnished or no, she would put her faith in steel over glass any day.

The Brigand hurled herself on the Knight, slashing at her from all directions, launching wild strokes at the Knight without any discipline or focus or any sign of training. She was as swift as the wind on a stormy day, and like a storm, she assailed the Knight, but the Knight simply charged forwards regardless, holding her shield up to protect her head, letting the strokes of the glass scimitars beat on her armour like rain beating on the windows of a house, and she pressed forward.

Some reckoned the armour made her slow, but it was not so; it was so well-fitted that she barely felt the weight for all that it was considerable, and since she barely felt the weight, she could build up speed.

Yet since the weight was considerable, others would feel it even when she did not, and the Knight could also build up momentum.

And so the Knight charged through the onslaught of the Brigand, enduring her wild fury, enduring the pounding of the swords on her armour as she pushed through the Brigand's guard and was on her. The Brigand tried to retreat, but it was too late; the Knight could not be stopped now; she struck the Brigand full on with her body and knocked her back and down onto the ground.

The fires in the forest illuminated the shock on the Brigand's face as the Knight brought down one armoured foot upon her chest. Her glass cuirass cracked beneath the impact, fissures spreading up and down the carapace, hiding the red dress beneath.

The Brigand grappled at the Knight's foot with both hands, her unprotected hands scraping and scratching at the thorns, but she could not budge it, could not throw the Knight off.

The Knight raised her sickle sword to cut off the Brigand's head. Her sword swung down, but the Brigand caught the blow upon her glass vambrace. That glass cracked too, if only in a couple of places, far less spectacularly than her cuirass had, but it did not break, and the Brigand's arm but trembled. She held the Knight's sword in place, until the Knight pulled it back.

She raised the blade again, reversing her grip on it for a straight downward thrust to break the Brigand's cuirass and impale her.

She thrust. The Brigand caught the blade between the palms of her hands, slamming them together as though she were catching a fly that buzzed about the room. The Knight's blade was stuck; she could not push it forwards, nor when she tried could she pull it back out of the Brigand's grasp.

The Brigand smirked at her.

The smirk soon died on her face as the Knight pressed down with her foot, causing her glass armour to crack yet further, audibly crunching as it began to give way.

The Brigand growled and snarled as fiercely as any beowolf as she tried to rise, but the Knight was as steadfast as the mountain and as constant as the stars and would not be thrown off.

Flames sparked from the side of the Brigand's visible eye, and yet more flames leapt from her fingertips to race up the Knight's sword and consume her in her armour.

"No!" cried the Jade Doll.

The Brigand began to cackle triumphantly, but the Knight was not moved. Though she could feel the heat building on her armour, though she could feel herself starting to roast within it, though she closed her eyes and flinched against the flames that flickered before her visor, she continued to press down with her foot upon the Brigand's chest.

The glass cuirass shattered completely. The Knight brought down her foot upon the Brigand herself and began to crush her ribs as she had shattered the glass.

The Brigand cried out in pain, the flames from her fingers flickering, her grip on the Knight's sword faltering as blood burst out of her mouth.

The Knight thrust downwards, impaling the Brigand through the chest.

The Brigand's amber eyes widened. She gasped, her head jerking.

"Oh, oh, I am slain," she murmured, coughing up more blood out of her mouth, to stain her black-painted lips. "Alack, alack, I am undone. Come, death, and close my eyes. Dead … for a lien … dead." Her eyes were not closed, by death or anyone else; they remained open so the Knight could see the light leaving them as her head lolled sideways and was still.

The Knight withdrew her sword.

"So end all who take the path of wickedness," she said, kneeling to wipe the blood off her sword.

"I was worried about you," the Jade Doll said. "When those flames sprung up, I thought that—"

"I'm fine," the Knight assured her. "I can overcome any trial, master any obstacle. You need have no fears for me. I am a knight, and there is no battle that I cannot win.

"Don't be overconfident," the wolf growled.

The Knight paused. "You're right," she admitted. "That was a lie. I cannot say that I will never meet a foe who is stronger than I am. But I would rather lay down my life in a good cause than live amidst all the comforts in the world if I must live with the shame of cowardice. If I should die, mourn me not; rather, rejoice at the fact that I died for something worth fighting for."

"I'd rather you didn't die," said the Jade Doll plaintively.

The Knight laughed. "Then to please you," she said, "I shall endeavour to live on."

She thrust her sword back into her belt and walked back towards the wolf.

"It was not for this that you dreamed of knighthood, no?" asked the wolf.

"What else would you have had me do?" asked the Knight in turn. "What else could I do but what I did?"

"I said nought of that," said the wolf.

"Did you not?" demanded the Knight. "I did what my duty required of me."

"Yet it was not for this that you dreamed of knighthood," the wolf repeated. "Or am I mistaken?"

The Knight did not call him mistaken, for he … was not mistaken. Her triumph, the death of the Brigand, it brought her scant joy and small satisfaction. Yes, a villain was dead, the victory was hers, but…

But she would rather save a life than take it. Her blood was not so hot that it burned to the shedding of the blood of others.

Yet if she had to…

If she had to, then she would.

But she might give thought to it before she did the deed, lest she regret it later.

Not that she regretted the Brigand's passing, not by any means, but in future, there might come a time, there might come a person…

Not her. Not after what she did.

"Not for this," the Knight conceded. "But I will do it nonetheless." She climbed aboard the wolf's back once again.

The wolf set off. He did not move so quickly as he had done before; his pace was more cautious now, his steps more considered; the wolf turned his head this way and that, constantly looking for any further dangers like the Brigand, sniffing the air for scents of ambush.

He stopped. "There are two people ahead."

"I don't see them," said the Knight, for she saw nothing before her but the trees.

"There are still two people ahead," said the wolf.

"Is it the Witch?" asked the Knight.

"No," the wolf answered her. "I have not smelled these two before."

"They might be friendly," the Jade Doll suggested optimistically.

"Then what are they doing here?" asked the Knight. "This is not a place to find friends."

"If they know we're here, they might be wondering what we're doing here," the Jade Doll pointed out.

The Knight and the wolf were silent for a moment.

"She makes a good point," said the wolf.

"I suppose," muttered the Knight. "Okay then, let's go and see who they are and what they want." She placed a hand upon the hilt of her sword but did not draw it.

The wolf padded slowly forwards, moving through the gloom. The Knight looked carefully, hoping to see what the wolf had smelled or seen, but she could still see nothing, nor could she smell anything or even hear anything. She had no idea of what waited for them, until eventually, they drew close enough that she could see them: two people, sitting by the side of the path — or at least what remained of the path — a woman whom the Knight did not recognise and a man whom she did.

"Dove!" the Knight cried, leaping off the wolf's back and running towards him. "Dove, what are you doing here?"

The Knight of Doves was a squat but broad-shouldered young man, distinguishable by the dove-feather cape that he wore hanging off his shoulders and down his back, and by his helmet, which was adorned with wings jutting out on either side. His armour was white but did not cover his hands, nor to be honest did it offer as much protection around the joints — elbows, knees, waist — as the Knight's armour did.

He had his helmet off, revealing sandy blond hair and blue eyes and a smile when he heard the Knight's voice issuing out of her armour.

"Well met!" he cried. "Well met indeed! It gladdens my heart to see a friendly face in this grim place. Though I suppose better a grim place than a grimm place, eh?"

The Knight stared at him. "That … that was terrible."

Dove's face fell. "You … may be right," he admitted. "In fact, you probably are, as you are about most things. But what brings you here, and…" — he was not tall enough to look over the Knight's shoulder, so he contented himself with looking around her — "so accompanied?"

"I am on a quest to Mountain Glenn, to rescue the Princess who has been kidnapped by the Wicked Witch of the Setting Sun," the Knight explained. "I will put an end to her villainy once and for all. You should come with me. I could use another strong, stout-hearted sword like yours."

Dove chuckled lightly. "The praise of the praiseworthy is above all rewards, and I am flattered indeed by yours, but I fear I cannot. I have a quest of my own to discharge." He gestured to the woman with him, who sat beside the road and had not gotten up. "This maiden is … the Fall Maiden. I have pledged to escort her through these dark lands and bring her safely home."

"I see," said the Knight. "That is a worthy thing, and I would not ask you to forsake such a quest, nor to put a maiden in danger." She bowed to the Fall Maiden. "Good day to you, my lady."

The Fall Maiden looked up at her. Her eyes were amber, just like the eyes of the Brigand that the Knight had lately slain, although her hair was a soft brown, cut short around the nape of her neck. Her face was pretty, but marred by heavy scars upon one side of her face, suggesting that she had been attacked by something — or someone; doubtless, that was why she was eager for a night to escort her on this new journey. She wore a green cloak, drawn around her, and golden bands glistened upon her arms.

She smiled, softening her scars. "Good day," she said, getting up. "Good day, brave knight. You must forgive me, but in times like these, on roads like these, one feels wary of travellers; but, if you are a friend of the Knight of Doves, then you are my friend also."

She reached out and placed a hand upon the Knight's shoulder pauldron, only to pierce her hand upon the thorns that sprouted from the armour. She gave a little shriek and yanked her hand back, clutching at it with her other hand as blood stained her palm and fingers.

"I'm sorry!" the Knight cried. "I didn't mean to … I'm sorry."

"It's alright," the Maiden said quickly, although there was pain in her voice as she said it. "It's alright. It's not your fault."

"Here, let me help you," Dove said, producing a handkerchief as though out of nowhere and making to tie it around the Maiden's hands.

She winced at his touch.

He drew back his hand. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "Warrior's hands."

"Don't stop," the Maiden whispered, looking into his eyes.

Dove looked into her eyes in turn, and kept looking at them as he — gently, delicately, with such care in every single motion no matter how slight that one might have thought the Maiden was made of glass just as the Jade Doll was — wound his handkerchief around her hand as a makeshift bandage.

The Knight could hardly miss the way they looked at one another. Well, he would not be the first. And if he was happy, if they were happy, then so be it.

Dove cleared his throat. "No doubt, you will want to continue on your quest," he said. "And we should be moving on as well—"

"No," said the Fall Maiden. "Oh no, you cannot go yet. I mean, you must be weary after travelling so far into this gloomy place. Rest awhile with us, share some food and wine to refresh your bodies and your spirits."

"I don't have a mouth," said the Jade Doll.

"I do," said the wolf.

"Yes, you need more rest than I do," said the Knight. "You have borne me far, and all I have done is slain one single villain."

"You have fought?" asked Dove.

"A bandit," the Knight explained. "The Brigand of Glass and Ashes, she called herself. She presented little challenge."

"You … you killed her?" asked the Fall Maiden, a tremble in her voice.

"Yes. What else should I do with the likes of her?" asked the Knight.

"I suppose you're right," the Maiden murmured. "Yes. Yes, I know you're right." She smiled. "Please, please, sit down."

The Knight sat, her legs hunched up, the thorns of her cuisses scratching at her cuirass and vice versa.

Dove watched her, his eyes flickering between the Knight and the Maiden.

The Jade Doll got down off the back of the wolf, and the wolf sat down beside the Knight; he seemed almost to be purring as he closed his silver eyes.

"Yes, now, take the weight off your feet for a little while, and you'll feel better," the Fall Maiden told them. She turned away and walked to a couple of packs that sat on the ground not far from them.

Dove continued to stand and watch as the Fall Maiden knelt at the packs, her fingers working dexterously as she opened it up. With her back to the Knight and her body obscuring the packs, it was hard to see exactly what she was doing, but the Knight presumed that she was getting food and drink out of the bags.

The Fall Maiden turned, looking at the Knight over her shoulder. Her eyes were wide and … frightened? Yes, frightened, unmistakably frightened: her mouth was open and her lower lip flat with alarm; she was afraid, but … why? What did she have to be afraid of?

Soft lights began to rise out of the Fall Maiden's palm. They were golden lights, motes of light that sparkled like stars in this gloomy forest. It was as if she was conjuring fireflies out of gold, bringing them to life and sending them forth in a swarm straight towards the Knight.

They were beautiful. They were so beautiful.

The Knight felt weary. She watched the motes of light as they emerged, she watched them come closer towards her, and she felt … she felt a darkness that was nought to do with the forest, she felt her head loll forwards, she felt herself slipping sideways.

She felt…

She felt…

Amber.

Beacon.

Semblance.

Fall Maiden.

Danger.

Protect.

Semblance.

Sleepy.

Sapphire.

Alone.

Dove.

Semblance.

"What?" the Knight — Ruby, was her name Ruby? Who was the girl in the black dress, was that her? Who was she? — asked, or tried to ask. Sleep slurred her words and made them trip as they shambled out of her mouth. "Amber, what—?"

"Stop!" cried the Jade Doll as she rushed past the Knight towards the Fall Maiden — Amber, was that her name? — and grabbed her by the shoulders. The Jade Doll started to shake her. "Whatever you're doing to her, stop it!"

Dove drew the short sword he wore at his hip.

The Knight stumbled to her feet, fumbling for her own sword even as she charged at Dove. She didn't know what it was that was in her mind, she didn't know what these thoughts were that she had … remembered or imagined or … she didn't know why those words had suddenly come flooding in, but she knew that Dove had betrayed her, that this Fall Maiden was not to be trusted, and she knew that if she did nothing, then Dove would draw his sword upon the Jade Doll, and she could not allow that to happen.

Dove's sword was out; the Knight could not draw hers, she could not find the hilt, her mind was too fogged by sleep. But she charged anyway, bent down so that her head was level with Dove's waist. She charged more like a bull than a man, grappling with him, both her hands around his waist — he yelped as the thorns on her armour pricked him in the vulnerable spot around his waist — before they both fell to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs.

The Knight was atop him. He hit her in the head with a mixture of his hand and his sword hilt, but though he made her head ring, he hurt his hand more than he injured her; the Knight heard him cry out in pain.

He should have armoured his hands.

The Knight roared with anger. He had betrayed her. He had betrayed her! He was a villain, as vile as any which they were sworn to fight. She grabbed him by the neck with one hand, and with the other hand, she punched him while he lay on the ground, her fist rising and falling like a hammer down upon him. His head snapped sideways, and a tooth flew from his mouth to land on the ground in a pool of blood.

"Villain," the Knight snarled as she hit him again. His cheek was bloody and raw, scarred by the thorns on her gauntlet; blood was pouring out of his mouth.

The Knight raised her hand for a third blow.

"No!" the Fall Maiden cried as she leapt on the Knight from behind. She cut herself on the thorns — the Knight could hear her wincing and whimpering in pain — but she clung on nevertheless, trying to pull the Knight off of Dove, or maybe trying to pull the Knight's helmet off, or both.

It wasn't wholly clear what she was trying to do, but it was clear that she would not succeed. Her strength was insufficient.

Although, if she was holding onto the Knight, what had she done to the Jade Doll?

The Knight growled and got off Dove — so that she could grab the Fall Maiden by the arms instead and bodily wrench her off and throw her off, casting her aside, flinging her at a nearby tree. She hit the trunk with a sickening thud and landed in a heap on the ground.

The wolf barked, and a growl emanated from his throat.

The Knight left Dove lying on the ground — he tried to move, but his attempts were sluggish, the pain was slowing him — as she advanced upon the Fall Maiden.

She drew her sword.

"What now?" asked the wolf. "Will you slay her? Will you slay them both?"

"Is she not a villain, subtle, false, and treacherous?" the Knight murmured. "Is not death the best salvation for those she would hurt otherwise?"

She looked down at the Fall Maiden. Her arms were covered in cuts; they did not bleed too much, any of them, but together, they had soaked her arms and hands in blood; together, they made her whimper and mewl as she lay at the Knight's feet.

She lay at the Knight's feet. She was curled up there, tears in her eyes, her whole body trembling. She held her arms against her chest, staining her white tunic with the blood of her many cuts.

She stared up at the Knight with frightened eyes, tears running down the scars on her face, the scars that seemed so especially large and prominent to the Knight's gaze now.

"Though you be false, you are no villain," the Knight murmured. Her sword remained drawn and poised to strike. "Being so, then why?" she demanded. "Why did you attack me?"

"For my safety," the Fall Maiden whispered.

"Your safety?" the Knight repeated. "For your safety, I … I do not understand."

"Because of Salem!" the Fall Maiden shrieked.

The Knight's sword trembled in her hand. Salem. She knew the name. A great darkness, greater than the Wicked Witch could ever be, so great that not the Knight, nor all the knights, could hope to bring her down. A menace. A shadow on the world.

A shadow against which she was powerless.

"She gave you those scars," the Knight said.

The Fall Maiden let out a little choked sob. "She hurt me. She was going to kill me. But I … I went to the Witch, and she promised that she'd protect me, but I didn't believe her. I didn't trust her. Hiding in her ruined castle with everyone asleep. She said I didn't have to fall asleep if I didn't want to, but … she said she'd die to keep me safe, and I believed her, but so what? What if she died to protect me, or to protect the Princess, or the Champion, or anyone else? She'd just be dead. Dead and gone and … and they … and I…" She closed her eyes. "Salem said she'd let me go, if only I could … if I … if I lured knights to their deaths. I didn't want to do it, and Dove didn't want to do it — Dove hated it, hated every moment of it — but … but it was the only way. The only way I could be safe."

The Knight stood over her, looking down upon her, sword raised above her. Her sword was raised, but it shook in her hands.

The Fall Maiden was a wicked woman. She had made a pact with a great evil; she had put her life, her safety, above the lives of others; she had encompassed the deaths of noble knights; but standing over her, watching her curled up before her with bleeding arms, watching her sob and shake, the Knight felt … the Knight did not feel … all the righteous wrath that had consumed her when confronted with the Brigand of Glass and Ashes had melted away like morning dew.

There was only a cold sadness left in her, a sadness that it had come to this, that the world was such that things like this could happen, and people less steadfast in their virtues than herself could be forced to do such things to survive in it.

She lowered her sickle sword a little as she rounded on Dove. "You didn't like it?" she asked. "You hated it? Then why did you do it?"

Dove, like the Fall Maiden, lay on the ground. He spat blood out of his mouth, and looked up at her. "For love," he said, softly and simply. "Because I love her."

They deserved death. They had both done such things that warranted it. If the Knight were to cut off their heads here and now, then no one — no one at all — would be able to say that she had done the wrong thing. But she did not desire to do it. Rather, her sword felt heavy in her hand, and she wanted nothing more than to thrust it back into her belt and not to draw it for a while.

She looked past Dove, to where the Jade Doll lay on her side on the ground.

"Are you alright?" asked the Knight. "Did she hurt you?"

"She pushed me," the Jade Doll replied with a slight groan. "But I'll be fine." She climbed slowly back up to her feet. "I was afraid I was going to crack somewhere, but I don't think I did."

"I'm glad," the Knight said softly. She felt a little guilty to even consider that that — some harm done to the Jade Doll — might have stirred her to an anger that the other crimes of these two did not; after all, as a virtuous individual, and even more as a brave knight, she ought to weigh all lives equally in her heart. But it would have grieved her if they had shattered the Doll, and might have driven away some of the pity that she felt for this frightened, wounded girl who had sought to escape the thorns.

It did not excuse her crimes, but it did make the Knight inclined … inclined to pause and give thought before she shed her blood.

For the Knight's own blood did not thrill to the thought of shedding the blood of others. She was no Brigand of Glass and Ashes; she took life only … only for the safety of others, just as the Fall Maiden had sought to take her life for her own safety.

She took life only to protect, to save, because that was why she had dreamed of knighthood: to save people, not to kill them.

So why then should she not save the Fall Maiden? Why should she not save Dove?

Why should she not save lives from herself and over-eager judgement?

Not that there was anything eager about any judgement she might render upon these two. All the more reason to save them then.

"Go," the Knight muttered. "I'll not shed your blood. Go and … I pray you do not give me cause to regret this … kindness. Do no evil, serve Salem no longer, live and love and keep the peace. And call on me, if ever you are in need again, and I will come and save you once again."

There was a moment of pause, of silence. The Fall Maiden stared up at her, with eyes wide. "You … you're letting us go?"

The Knight sheathed her sword. "I am trusting you to reform yourself and live better after this," she said. "Perhaps I am naive, but perhaps it is better to be naive than to let the world make me a killer, when I set out to save lives instead. Therefore, let me save your lives, if only from myself."

Again, a pause. Dove said, "Thank—"

"Don't thank me," the Knight said. "I do this not for your gratitude but my own heart … and perhaps for a girl I met at a crossroads, who might approve. Go now, and fare you well in love and peace for all the days hereafter."

She watched as Dove scrambled to his feet and made his way as quick as she could over to the Fall Maiden. She watched as he lifted her up in his arms, cradling her there while she put her arms around his neck, and started to carry her away.

She did not watch as he carried her off; rather, she turned her back upon the both of them, but she could still hear the sounds, hear Dove grunting with effort as he fought through his own pain to carry off the Fall Maiden.

The Knight couldn't help but think that he deserved better.

But then, what was true about deserving punishment surely applied to the deserving of love also, no? If all were loved only by those who deserved to be loved, then many would be lonely.

Though perhaps I would be less lonely than I am.

The wolf padded softly over to her. "What will become of them now?" he asked.

"I don't know," the Knight replied. "I have hope for them, or else I wouldn't have let them go like that, but I don't know. I only hope that I don't regret it, and that they don't fall into anymore that … that they'll regret."

"You were very kind to them," said the Jade Doll.

"I was merciful," the Knight corrected her. "Kindness has nothing to do with it."

"No?" asked the Jade Doll.

"There is nothing kind about letting the wicked roam free," the Knight declared. "But I did not believe that she was wicked, and I know that Dove is not. And I don't think that he would fall in love with a wicked soul; no, she was not foul; she … she was afraid, not malicious. And while that makes her a coward, at the same time … at the same time, this is a world that's full of things to be afraid of."

"Just like the Witch said," said the Jade Doll softly.

The Knight didn't answer that. She didn't want to answer it, for all that — or because — the Jade Doll was not wrong. The Wicked Witch was afraid, of the many things in the world there were to be afraid of, just like the Fall Maiden. And she had betrayed the Knight, just as Dove had. So, really, what was the difference between them?

But that was not something the Knight wished to answer or admit, and so she said to the wolf, "How do you feel? Do you need to rest for real?"

The wolf shook his head. "Nay, I can bear you yet, if you wish. It is not far now."

And so, the Knight and the Jade Doll mounted on the wolf's back once more, and the faithful wolf carried them out of the dark forest — and into an even darker place.

He bore them into Mountain Glenn.

It was a ruined city. It was a dead city. It was a city of wreckage and rubble, a city of crumbling old collapsing buildings, of fallen barricades that had failed to keep the grimm at bay … of old bleached skulls and discarded bones lying in the streets.

"What happened here?" the Jade Doll asked, her arms shivered where they wrapped around the Knight's waist.

"I don't know," the Knight admitted. "But I imagine the grimm came, and once they came, they could not be driven out until…"

Until everyone was dead.

"Why would anyone choose to live here now?" asked the Jade Doll. "Why would anyone want to make a home in a place like this?"

At one point — at one point not very long ago at all — the Knight would have answered that it was because the Wicked Witch was as wicked as her name, and so she was drawn to death, and to decay, and to reminders of the destruction that she hoped to visit upon the world. Now, however, she thought that it might be different. Now, she wondered if the Witch might have other motives.

"She is a coward, devoid of valour," the Knight said. "She fears the world, and so she has come here, to a place where only death and nothing living dwells, and hopes the world will pass her by."

"That doesn't sound very nice," the Jade Doll said.

"No," the Knight agreed. "But there is a sort of sense to it, as twisted as that sense may be."

Mountain Glenn was dark, darker even than the forest they had passed through to reach this place; the sun had failed completely, the moon was dead; it was so dark, it was as if they were underground rather than above it. It was so dark, it was as though the earth had swallowed them up, whole and entire, and left only a little light coming from … it was hard to say where the light was coming from, only that the Knight could see a little of what lay around them.

She found herself glad that she could not see more. She did not want to see more. She did not want to see the whole vast expanse of this place in all its devastation. She did not want to see the bones piled high, the gruesome remains of a home destroyed.

What she could see was bad enough.

There seemed to be no grimm here in the city; they might have destroyed it, but they had moved on afterwards. There was not a howl or growl or snarl to be heard, no shuffling feet somewhere off in the darkness, nothing skittering or crawling around unseen. No doubt, that was why the Witch had felt safe enough to set up her base here; she would not have felt so secure had the grimm continued to infest this city of the dead.

As to where the Witch herself might be, an emerald light shone in the darkness, illuminating the top of a ragged tower, holed in places but still standing tall above the rest of a crumbling old ruined fortress. The Fall Maiden had talked of just such a thing, the Witch hiding in her ruined castle, trying to convince the Maiden that she could hold off Salem's malice.

The light showed them the way. A folly on the part of the Witch, to show where she was to any comers. After all, how many friendly visitors was she likely to have?

They approached the crumbling walls of the castle, where the gatehouse — what remained of it — gaped open like an open mouth, and the crenellations had fallen away from the walls, where old stone gargoyles looked out across the rotting corpse of a city filled with corpses.

And so too looked the Wicked Witch of the Setting Sun. She was silhouetted by the emerald light of the tower behind her, but the Knight knew that it was her, that it must be her, and not just by the length of her hair as it waved in the chill wind that wafted through the dead city.

She stood on the crumbling battlements and looked down on them as they approached. As they drew near, the Witch's voice echoed down to them.

"So you are come to my gate, brave knight!" she shouted down at them.

"What gate?" called the Jade Doll back up to her.

"It's a metaphorical gate," replied the Witch, a touch of irritation entering her voice. "Why have you come? Have you come to join me, to sleep in fairyland and let the world in all its horrors pass you by?"

"No!" declared the Knight. "No, not in a thousand years, not ever. You know why I am here. I am here to save the Princess…" She paused, and when she spoke again it was in a voice almost tender. "And to save you, also."

"To save me?" demanded the Wicked Witch. "I pray you, by our old fellowship, mock me not, for I am … I am not made to bear the mocking scorn; I do not like it. I would rather have your honest hate than your feigned pity."

"And what if the pity were not feigned?" asked the Knight.

"I … I don't believe you!" cried the Wicked Witch. "I thought you better than to play such games, to toy with spirits, to speak untruths and raise … false hopes. You are come to my gate, my metaphorical gate, but further than that, you shall not enter, not for the Princess nor any other. You cannot enter here!"

So she spoke, and as she spoke, her voice acquired an echo of power, an echo which made the city shake, made the shattered walls of the buildings tremble and shed yet further detritus upon the ground, even as the ground itself rumbled and roiled. The wolf took a step back, and then another, as thorns, vast thorns, a great hedge of thorns each broader than the waist of a strong man burst out of the ground to form a new wall, stronger than the stone wall with all its weaknesses, around the castle.

The thorns grew twenty feet high or higher; the Wicked Witch was lost behind them; she and her wall and even the light of the tower were concealed. There were only the thorns, and the barbs like spearheads protruding out to snag the unwary.

But the Knight was not unwary. She was the Knight of Roses, and she had thorns of her own; she was covered in them as much as this new wall was, and she feared no other thorns in the garden. She leapt from the wolf's back, drawing her sickle sword, and began to scythe away at the thorns before her, her blade cutting through the vines no matter how thick they were, hacking at them, wounding them, severing them completely until they fell. She feared no thorns, for her armour was proof against all barbs, while they had no such protection from her blade. She cut through them as though they were nothing at all; they could not stand before her, and she hewed a path for the wolf and the Jade Doll to follow behind her, cutting and cutting until she had cut clean through the thorns and forged a path through to the other side.

The Knight walked through the gap in the thorns, her cloak rippling behind her, managing not to get caught on any barbs on either side as she took the final steps beyond the makeshift wall the Witch had conjured.

The Witch was waiting for her on the other side, her black sword drawn, the night-dark blade almost invisible in this darkness, until the Witch by some power lit it aflame, and the fire that rippled up the sword showed clearly where it was: raised above the Witch's head, poised for a descending stroke.

"Now you will deal with me, O Knight," the Witch declared. "And all the power at my command."

"As I have told you," the Knight looked down at her own sword. She thrust it into her belt. "I would rather not."

The Witch's green eyes bulged. There was a touch of hysterical laughter in her voice as she said, "No?"

"No," replied the Knight. "No, I don't want to fight you. I don't want to kill you."

"Bold of you to assume you would," the Witch muttered. "But if you are not here to fight, and not to sleep, why are you here?"

"To show you mercy," the Knight answered.

The Witch of the Setting Sun stared at her a moment, and longer than a moment; moments passed, and still, the Witch stared. "'Mercy'?" she whispered. She snorted. "Still you play this game with me?"

"It is no game, but words truly spoken," insisted the Knight.

"'Truly spoken'?" cried the Witch. "You are not merciful!"

The Knight recoiled. "I … if I am become hard, is it not because you and the world have made me so?" she demanded. "Have I not cause to armour up my heart, when you misused it so?"

The Witch licked her lips. "Cause," she whispered. "Some cause, great cause, unquestionable cause, 'tis so, I will concede it. I did not seek to abuse your heart, but through the course of mine own heart, I hurt yours nonetheless." She turned her eyes away. "Ignored your counsel, thought little of your beliefs, belittled and demeaned you through my conduct." She shook her head. "And for this courtesy, you would show me mercy?"

"Aye, for all that I would," said the Knight. "For I would not be what you have made of me. I would be more. I would be better, as once I was when I set out." She took a step forward. "You're afraid, aren't you?"

The Witch's lower lip trembled. Her sword shook in her hands; it shook so much that she had to lower it. "'Afraid'?" the Witch said softly. "I am terrified."

"But not for yourself," the Knight said, taking another step towards her. "It is for others that you fear, no? For the Champion, for the Knight of Sunbeams, for the Princess—"

"For you," the Witch said tremulously.

The Knight paused. "I … I remember," she murmured. "Or I have dreamed, or I have imagined, or … I know not what it is, but I see a girl — a little girl in red and black — and you. A warrior rushes towards you with a terrible red sword, the girl pushes you aside, and then … she receives in return a dolorous blow."

"Yes," the Witch whispered. "Yes. I…" She took a step back, a stumbling step away from the Knight. Her burning sword fell from her hands and landed with a clatter on the ground. "I would take a hundred wounds upon my breast; cut off my breasts, let crows pluck out my eyes, feed my entrails to the baying hounds, and I shall smile." She did smile, though it did not reach her eyes, and seemed a rather unsettling sight as it quivered and wobbled on her face. Tears began to well in her eyes. "I will smile," she said again, "so long as you … all of you…" She wiped at her eyes with one hand. "This world is so cruel, so hard, so full of peril, and you … all of you … all my pretty ones, I…"

"What you have done is wrong," the Knight said. "What you do is evil."

"I know it well enough," said the Witch, her voice hoarse and quiet.

"But you," the Knight said. "You are not … you do not deserve the style of Wicked Witch."

The Witch blinked back a few tears, though more sprung swiftly up to take their place. "No?"

"No," the Knight said. "You are … you are pitiful. You're … pathetic. A half-formed and misshapen thing, with no morals or values to guide you, only … only impulse, and a heart." She paused, and took two more steps towards the Witch. "But it is … I must admit, it is a heart that aims for goodness, though it misses the mark more oft than not."

The Witch sniffed. "A heart which aims for goodness," she repeated. "A good heart, a constant heart, a tender and a feeling heart."

"It is not enough," the Knight told her. "It is far, far from enough. A good heart alone does not goodness make, not by a yard nor even by a mile." She paused. "But … it is so much that my own heart does not sit easy at the thought of stopping yours. Live, then. Be saved from me, by me. Live and fear my wrath no more. It is all spent, as is my love, love and hate and all things … gone. We are nothing to one another now, not friends or foes but … perfect strangers. Not forgiven … but erased."

The Knight felt something change; she could not say exactly what she felt, but when she looked down at her hands, at the gauntlets that enclosed her hands, at her arms and her chest, the thorns were gone. All the thorns that had sprouted from her armour were gone, vanished, shrunk back into the metal, disappeared as though they had never been at all.

And in their place, flowers were engraved upon the metal, which bore no tarnish now but shone as bright as silver, silver engraved with myriad roses, a field of flowers blooming in her defence.

The Witch, not the Wicked Witch, just the Witch, half-turned away from the Knight. She did not bother to wipe her eyes; the tears were falling down her cheeks too readily for that. She said nothing.

"What you're doing is wrong," the Knight said softly. "You know that, don't you?"

The Witch sniffed and nodded. "I wanted to protect them."

"I know," said the Knight. "But you can't, and even if you could, you wouldn't have the right. Where is the Princess?"

The Witch hesitated a moment, and then nodded. "Come with me."

She led the way, and the Knight followed.

She followed across the courtyard of the ruined castle and into the tower from which the emerald light shone so brightly. She followed up the narrow, winding stairs, where cobwebs clung to the walls, where the wind howled through the gaps in the stonework, and where the decaying wooden boards creaked alarmingly beneath the Knight's feet. She followed up and up, round and round, climbing and climbing until the Witch led her all the way to a room, in good repair considering the state of the tower, with no holes in the walls visible.

In that room, in a bed surrounded by flowers, there lay a girl, a young girl with a pale face, dressed in a black dress with red trim around the hem, wearing black stockings and high black boots. A girl with short black hair, with tips of bloody red.

In the bed, there lay the girl that the Knight had dreamed.

In the bed, there lay herself.

Memories returned as Ruby Rose shoved Sunset aside and crossed the room, rose petals falling on the floor in her wake, to where she lay. Amber had used her semblance on her, Amber had put her to sleep, and now…

Now, here she was.

She didn't know how she knew, but she did know that she could wake up from this, if she chose. She was right here. She was sleeping, but she could choose not to. She could break the … the spell, for want of a better word, that Amber had put on her.

She could wake up.

And she could let go of all her anger. Let go of hate, let go of love, let go of … everything. Perfect strangers, all things erased between them. No bitterness, no need to…

No need to let Sunset Shimmer trouble her mind or heart, for Sunset would be as nothing to her.

Ruby reached out for her forehead.

"You don't have to go," Sunset said from where she stood by the doorway. "You can stay here, if you will. Stay in fairyland, where you are strong enough to overcome all your enemies with ease—"

"Fake enemies," Ruby replied. "They're not real, nor are the battles. Cinder isn't dead, and Amber … why did Amber do that to me?"

"How should I know, I'm not really here?" asked Sunset dryly. "But even if you can't defeat your real enemies here, at least you're safe. Safe from danger, safe from harm—"

"Safe from living?" Ruby asked. "No. No, I can't stay. I won't." She looked down at herself, her sleeping self. "But I'll remember this. I'll remember what I decided." She paused. "Since you're not really here, I don't need to say goodbye, do I?"

"No," Sunset said. "But I can wish you good luck. I don't know what you're going to wake up into."

"Neither do I," said Ruby. "That's what makes life exciting."

She turned away and reached out to place her armoured hand upon the shoulder of her sleeping self, where she lay atop the bed.

"Time to wake up," she said.

XxXxX​

Ruby Rose opened her eyes.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Jailbreak

​

The rat crept about the corner of the cell.

It was a grotty corner, filthy, caked with grime, like the grime that covered so much of the floor. It was a corner fit for a rat, like the rat that crept about, dragging its tail behind it; every so often, it lifted its head and glanced this way or that, then lowered its head back down again and crept forward, scratching at the floor and the muck with its paws.

On the bed, in a position to look down on the rat like a bird of prey looking down upon the mouse in the field, Gilda moved very slowly. She was aware that too sudden a movement, that any motion too swift, might disturb the creature and send it scurrying away for its hole in the wall. So she moved slowly. The mattress on which she lay — the mattress that was so old it had springs sticking out of it through the fabric — shifted beneath her weight, but it didn't make enough noise to disturb the rat.

It just kept on doing what it was doing, crawling about, looking up, looking down, scratching.

Gilda shuffled to the edge of the bed. Her hands were shackled together, which was awkward, but she could still move them enough, she thought, for this.

She watched the creeping rat like a hawk. The rat still hadn't noticed her presence.

Gilda sprang off the bed, hurling herself down on the grubby floor and on the rat. The rat tried to run, but Gilda was too quick, her hands lashing out to grab the rat tight. The rat squeaked in alarm, it scratched at Gilda's hands, it bit her — and Gilda felt all of it, with her aura suppressed like it was; each scratch and bite hurt far more than it felt like it should — the rat squirmed and struggled and wriggled in her grasp, but Gilda held on.

She held on despite the pain in her finger, the blood leaking from the cuts. She held on, and even adjusted her grip upon the wriggling rat, moving her hand up its fat body towards its neck.

The rat bit her again, sinking its teeth in deep to Gilda's forefinger.

Gilda winced, but she didn't let go; in fact, she gripped the rat's neck between her forefinger and thumb and snapped it with a sharp twist.

"Please tell me you're not going to eat that," Ilia said.

Gilda looked up. Of the group that she had led on their ill-fated mission to kill Dashie and Blake, Ilia was the only one sharing a cell with her. The others were … she didn't actually know where the others were; they might all be still in the hospital for all she knew. Or they might be in other cells here, or in other prisons. Ilia was the only one whose location she knew.

Gilda wasn't sure that was altogether a good thing.

The cell in which they were both confined was a grim place; the floor — on which Gilda was lying, getting stains on her grey prison overalls — looked like it hadn't had a clean in ever, and the plaster in the walls was crumbling in some places, not to mention the hole in said wall that the rat had come through.

There was a nasty smell coming from the toilet on the far side of the room, opposite the bunk beds that … the mattresses could have been better, but Gilda supposed the beds were alright.

They were about the only thing in here that could be called alright, in her opinion.

The door into the cell was barred but open; anyone could see into it if they came down the corridor, although no one showed any sign of coming down the corridor; it had been a while since they last saw a guard.

Gilda wasn't too surprised; this place was such a dump that she wouldn't want to come down here either.

She got up onto her knees, and opened her mouth, and leaned forwards towards the dead rat hanging limply in her grip.

"Ugh!" Ilia groaned, turning away and covering her mouth with one hand.

Gilda rolled her eyes as she lowered the dead rat. "I'm not actually going to eat it, come on!" she cried.

Ilia glanced back at her. "You're not?"

"No!" Gilda shouted, throwing the rat over Ilia's head and through the bars of the cell doors. It hit the wall on the other side of the corridor and then fell down, motionless, onto the corridor floor. "I just wanted to kill it, that's all. I didn't want it crawling on me in the middle of the night when I'm trying to sleep."

"Oh," Ilia murmured. "That makes sense, I guess."

Gilda stood up. "Did you really think that I might actually eat it? A dead rat? Raw?"

"You were just scrabbling around on the floor with a rat," Ilia pointed out. "Also, those cuts are gonna get infected if you leave them in a room like this."

Gilda looked down at her hands. They were bleeding, not a lot, but a bit. "I don't suppose you can help me tear up my sheet and make a couple of bandages?" she asked.

"What are you going to use for a blanket afterwards?" asked Ilia.

"I'm not sure I'll notice the difference; have you seen these blankets?" Gilda asked. She got up and walked over to the bed, grabbing the thin quilt and throwing it to the foot of the bed so that she could get at the thin white sheet that lay underneath. She started to tug it free. "Hold onto this while I start tearing some strips off, will you?"

Ilia took a step forward. "I also," she began. "I mean, you are from Low Town, right?"

Gilda looked at her. She stared at her. She dropped the blanket and flipped Ilia off with both hands because that was the only reasonable response to what she had just said. "Seriously?" She demanded. "Seriously? That … that is just … piss on you, okay! You think Low Town is full of people just eating rats? And I suppose you think we have cockroaches for dessert?"

Ilia's face began to turn blue.

"If you weren't a faunus, I would say that that's really racist," Gilda declared. "Since you are a faunus, it's just really classist."

"But you did have rats, right?" Ilia asked. "In Low Town?"

Gilda snorted. "No," she said. "My parents kept a nice, clean house. It was cold, yeah, there were icicles on the windows, and we didn't always get a very good CCT signal, and it was a little bit small and pokey, but it was clean, and we kept it clean because it was ours. Our house. Our home."

Ilia was silent for a moment. "We had rats," she admitted. "And cockroaches."

"Did you eat them?" Gilda asked.

A touch of red mingled with the blue on Ilia's skin as she glared at Gilda.

"Not so much fun when the boot is on the other foot, is it?" Gilda asked.

Ilia didn't respond.

Gilda continued to pull at the sheet. "So, where was this?"

"Mantle," Ilia said. "You know a place called The Pitworks?"

Gilda shook her head. "I don't know Mantle."

"Never been?" asked Ilia.

"No," Gilda replied. "Never."

"You haven't missed much," Ilia muttered. "Here, give me that." She held out her hands; they were shackled together just like Gilda's.

Gilda handed her the blanket; Ilia took it and held it still while Gilda began to tear off strips.

"Our home wasn't cold, but it was small," Ilia went on. "And we had rats, and cockroaches like I said, and … and in the neighbourhood, people used to say that at least we were better off than the folks in Low Town."

"I guess everyone needs to look down on someone, just to feel a little better about themselves," replied Gilda. "Would you mind?"

"Sure," Ilia murmured, throwing the now-torn sheet back onto the bed and taking the strips that Gilda had torn off. She began to wind them around Gilda's hands, covering off the cuts that the rat had made, wrapping them tightly and then tying them off. "You realise that if we stay the night here, we'll probably get cockroaches here too?"

Gilda looked around. She couldn't see any sign of any creepy-crawlies anywhere. "You think so?"

"They'll come when it's dark, when the lights go out," Ilia said. "This place is disgusting. Of course they'd put faunus in a cell like this."

"Or all the cells are just as bad as this one," Gilda muttered.

"I don't believe that," Ilia said. "That's … there's no way they'd put humans in a place like this. This is only fit for animals."

"Some people say criminals are animals," Gilda replied. "And a lot of those people write for Valish newspapers. Don't get me wrong, I know there's discrimination out there; I'm just not certain this is it." She paused. "What do you mean by 'if' we spend the night in here? Do you have plans?"

"Obviously!" Ilia cried. "We can't stay here; we have to get out! We have a mission to complete!"

"We failed that mission," Gilda pointed out.

"We're alive, aren't we?" Ilia demanded. "We still have our hands, our legs, our will, and courage. That means that our mission isn't failed yet. It isn't over yet. It doesn't end until Blake and Rainbow Dash are dead, the High Leader gives us new orders, or we give our lives for the cause. We have to get out of this cell." She turned away from Gilda and approached the doors, putting her hands around the metal bars. "We have a job to do."

She began to pull at the doors, as though with her aura suppressed, she nevertheless had the strength to wrench the barred door off its hinges and throw it away, then fight her way through everyone who was or might be guarding this place.

She grunted, she heaved, she rattled the bars, but they did not budge.

Gilda watched without lending a hand or offering to do so. She just watched, silently.

She twitched, shifting from side to side; her wings were strapped down to her back, and the forced inactivity was making them restless, like legs that had sat down for too long.

Ilia turned to look at her. "Are you going to help me out?"

"Do you really think that's going to work?"

Ilia let go of the bars. "Do you have a better idea?"

"I don't know," Gilda admitted. "I mean, I've broken out of prison before, but I didn't do it in one night."

Ilia's eyebrows rose. "You were imprisoned."

"For a month and a half, no big deal," Gilda said. "It doesn't make me a martyr for the cause or nothing."

"But it isn't nothing, all the same," Ilia replied. "Here in Vale?"

Gilda shook her head. "Atlas. My cell there was a lot cleaner than this, I have to say. The bed was more comfortable too, although because it was memory foam, it remembered the person who'd been in the cell before me, and they weren't quite my size."

"I know what you mean; it's a problem with memory foam, if you don't get it new," Ilia replied, without saying how she knew this. "So what did you do? Was it for something—?"

"Not related to the White Fang, no; I didn't join the White Fang until after I got out," Gilda explained. "I … I'd been thinking about it, I'd read the pamphlets, got into a fight with Rainbow Dash about it, I was … I'd woken up to what was facing our people, but I hadn't actually gone and done anything about it yet. Not until my parents left for Menagerie. I…"

She had been all on her own for the first time in her life. She'd said goodbye to her parents with a pack of lies at the docks — yes, don't worry, I'll write, things are going to be great, I'll be fine — and then found herself all on her own, with parents gone, a best friend who didn't want to know her, and thanks to the discrimination of the system, no real prospects — not that she was without skills; she was a dab hand when it came to electronics; she could rebuild computers, although not scrolls, because they were too small and fiddly. But, because she hadn't gone to the right school, because she didn't have a virtual piece of paper on her scroll with a qualification on it, then what she could actually do, the skills that she had, didn't matter.

It was okay for her parents to go to Menagerie and live out their sunlit years, but the sun hadn't even risen on Gilda's years, and she was staring down the barrel of … what? Poverty? The Atlesian army? Taking orders from Dash, yes sir, no sir? Working down a mine? Or in a Marigold fulfilment warehouse as one of the ten percent of organic employees they were forced to keep on alongside the robots?

And so, when she'd seen an ad for an upcoming faunus rights demo up in Atlas, she'd decided to go along. She'd gone up to Atlas … and she'd bought some fireworks. She hadn't really been planning to use them, but she'd seen some chatter about how the cops might start something, so…

She couldn't exactly remember how it had started. There had been cops, and the cops wouldn't let them pass, and then … it had been dark, and there had been a bang, people had started to panic behind her, and Gilda had thrown a firework at the police.

Then she'd charged their line while they were blinded by the flash. She'd hoped to force a break in their line to let people out, but she'd only managed to crack one guy's visor before the rest piled on her.

She'd gotten sentenced to two years in prison for disorderly conduct and assaulting a police officer. She'd broken out not two months later.

"I kept my nose clean," she said. "I didn't cause trouble; I didn't get sent to the cooler. I bided my time. Then, after a little bit, after gathering the right tools, I was able to unpick the restraints holding my wings down; one day, in the exercise yard, I took off. I was over the fence and away. Then it was just a matter of finding somewhere I could land to get the cuffs off, and … I joined the White Fang after that, and they sent me here to Vale."

"Good for you," Ilia replied. "But we don't have a month and a half — we don't even have a month, or a week — the tournament ends today; you left this until the last possible moment—"

"It wasn't as though we were ever going to be blessed with opportunities to get this done," Gilda replied, her voice rising.

"Blake and Rainbow Dash will be going to Atlas soon," Ilia said. "And how are we supposed to get at them there?"

Maybe we aren't, Gilda thought. Maybe we shouldn't. Maybe we should go back to the High Leader and tell her that we couldn't do it.

Not that she was likely to look too kindly on an admission of failure like that, but what was the alternative? A fool's errand to Atlas? Ilia might say that they needed to get out of this cell and go hunting for Blake and Dashie again right this instant, but the fact was that Ilia's determination alone wasn't going to get them out of this cell. Gilda was in no doubt that they could break out of here, but it would take at least a little time.

"I don't know," she admitted. "But I know that we can't just walk out of this cell because you want to."

She looked around. The walls looked like they might fall apart in time — maybe they were made of that aerated concrete stuff that Gilda had seen in the news a while back, the stuff that had bubbles in it, as hard to fathom as that might be, and fell down after about fifty years or so — but not in time for Ilia's very tight timetable. Above them, there were no convenient ceiling tiles to be lifted up, no sign of any airways that they could crawl into, and on the floor, even if they could break the toilet, then the pipe was too small even for Ilia.

But…

"I…" Gilda hesitated. "I guess I've got one idea. Though I'm not sure it'll work."

"Your last idea didn't," Ilia pointed out. "But go on."

"How was I supposed to know that Blake was going to call for backup?" Gilda demanded. "You didn't think she would either, if I remember."

"That's why I'm still willing to listen to your idea," Ilia replied.

Gilda didn't give her idea; instead, she said, "It seems like she's changed, doesn't it? Blake. And not altogether for the worse."

"'Not for' … of course it's for the worse!" Ilia snapped. "She's with Atlas now; she's with the enemy!"

"And she called for help," Gilda reminded her. "Would she have done that before?"

Ilia was silent for a moment. Her skin turned green. "No," she muttered. "No, she wouldn't have. She would have … I would have been left wondering where she was, hoping that Adam knew where she'd gone, cursing the fact that she had to do things on her own, that she didn't … do you think that she trusts her more than me? Your Atlas friend, Rainbow Dash; do you think Blake trusts her more than she trusted me?"

"She trusts her," Gilda said. "I don't know how much she trusted you." That was about as nice as Gilda knew how to put it, considering that, on the face of it, the answer was pretty clearly 'yes, she does.' "But it seems like, however much she trusted you, being here, and around the Atlesians, has changed her from the Blake we knew. And you just said that you would have preferred the Blake who acts like this than the Blake who used to act like that."

"On our side," said Ilia.

"Obviously, yeah, but…" Gilda stopped. Maybe there's a reason for it. Maybe there's a reason why Blake has become better for spending time with those people, on that side, and not with us. Maybe it's something good about them.

Maybe it's something bad about us.

That hardly seemed like something that Ilia would like to hear, and Gilda didn't want to pick a fight, and so she said, "Anyway, my plan is that if we were to rip this toilet up out of the floor, what would happen?"

Ilia frowned. "Water would spill all over the floor of our cell?"

"Maybe," Gilda admitted. "I'm not a plumber, but I'm hoping that there'll be a big spurt of water that will shoot up like a geyser, and then the guards will open the door, and we can take them out and get their keycards to unlock our restraints and open any doors between us and getting out of here. Of course, even if that works, we'll still have all the other cops between us and freedom to worry about, not to mention the fact that we'll be wanted when we get outside."

"We'll always be wanted, no matter when we escape," Ilia replied. "And once I get my aura back, I can handle any number of Valish cops. I say we go for it; what do we have to lose?"

"We could flood our cell, and nobody cares enough to let us out since we brought it on ourselves," Gilda said flatly.

Ilia smirked, as though Gilda had been making a joke. "Perhaps," she admitted. "But with a barred door, it won't take long before the flooding is in the corridor, not just our cell; it isn't like they can just leave us to drown like animals in a sealed compartment. And besides, great heroes of the struggle have suffered more than a damp room and flooding in the cause; how can we be squeamish now? I say we go for it."

Gilda could have pointed out that the great heroes of the cause — she might have said the great martyrs of the cause — had suffered more and risked everything for a cause that was a lot more admirable than killing two people who had actually helped the cause quite a bit. It was like Dashie had said: she and Blake had done a lot for the faunus recently, and what had they done? What were they doing? They had — and they would again if they got out of here — tried to kill the two people who had actually helped. The shutting down of those rogue SDC facilities — apparently rogue; how true that was and how much it was all SDC damage control was an open question — had done more for the faunus in Atlas than … a lot more than throwing fireworks at the cops, that was for sure. Dash and Blake had done something real, and they wanted to kill her for it.

What would the old heroes and martyrs of the cause have had to say about that, huh?

Maybe I should have stuck with 'there's no way out of this cell right away; we have to be patient' and then let Blake and Rainbow Dash head to Atlas where they'll be safer.

No, there were reasons not to do that. Apart from the fact that Gilda wouldn't mind getting out of this cell more quickly if she could, there was also the fact that, if she thought that Gilda and Ilia and all the rest were lost, either dead or captured with no immediate prospect of escape, the High Leader might not just shrug and put the whole thing on hold until they could escape, if they could escape. After all, she seemed to want them dead quite a bit. It was important to her, important enough that she'd come all the way out here from Menagerie just to give the orders in person. So she probably wouldn't just shrug and accept failure as one of those things; she'd send someone else. Maybe someone more vicious, someone with less concern for keeping it clean. So long as Gilda was in charge of this operation, then she could shape it, direct it; she could make sure that no one got any ideas about killing Blake's mother, or one of Rainbow's friends — yes, sure, Gilda had been about to kill Applejack, but Applejack had brought that on herself by deciding to join the battle. If you chose to fight, then you had no right to complain if you died in the fighting. It was a completely different thing from seeking out Fluttershy and killing her, or even sticking a knife to her throat to make a point to Dash.

Not everyone that the High Leader could send on this job would be so … fair about it. And Gilda knew that because most of the people that the High Leader had assigned to this job wouldn't have been, left to their own devices. Even Ilia had been on board with killing Blake's mom, although she seemed to be thinking about how the Lady of Menagerie deserved it rather than as a tactic to get at Blake.

Either way, whatever Ilia's precise motives, the point was that Gilda couldn't afford to get left behind. The only way to keep a leash on some of these psychos was to keep herself at their head.

Or leave the rest of them to rot, go with Ilia on a second attempt, and hope that she—

No. No, I can't do that. I might not like her all that much, but I can't lead her to her death, or even hope that the fighting kills her. I'm not that kind of person.

And she doesn't deserve it.

Whatever bizarre ideas about Low Town Ilia might have, and however much she might vindicate Gilda's own ideas about Mantle as being much worse than the place she grew up ever could have been, Gilda understood the other girl. She was angry. She wanted to stick it to the human. She felt betrayed and abandoned. There were a lot of people in the White Fang who felt that way, and Gilda was one of them, and while she didn't share the sense that Ilia gave off of feeling like she was the bearer of the light when everyone around had turned to the darkness, all the same Gilda, would be lying if she said she couldn't sympathise with where Ilia was coming from.

She didn't want to get the other girl shot, see her get her head blown off by Dash or stabbed through the chest by Blake. She didn't deserve that, she deserved … Gilda wasn't one hundred percent sure what either of them deserved at this point, but it was something. Something other than to die like that.

And while she didn't feel as strongly towards the others, they had still been put under her command.

Her command; as long as it was still Gilda's command, then she was going to try and keep her people alive; that was her duty as their leader.

And so she had to try and get out of this cell.

"I'm sure you'll remember that when there's water everywhere and nobody is listening to us," Gilda muttered darkly. She knelt down on the dirty floor and ran her hands around the toilet. It was stainless steel, but while it had avoided rust, that didn't mean it had avoided stains, although Gilda tried to. Luckily, none of it looked very fresh, although that was not the most brilliant consolation ever for Gilda.

I'll probably need fresh bandages after this, she thought as she managed to get purchase under the lip of the bowl. It was awkward, what with her hands being in restraints, but she could get her fingers under there, and then push upwards.

Gilda heaved; even without her aura she still had muscles on her arms, she wasn't completely helpless, and just by pulling up she made the toilet rattle a little bit. She felt it strain against the bolts holding it on the floor, although maybe not straining as much as she would have liked.

"Help me with this," she said to Ilia, who tried to squeeze around onto the other side of the toilet from Gilda, but who found that was too much even for her small size.

So she ended up kneeling down at the front of it. "This is disgusting," she muttered.

"Are you squeamish or something?" asked Gilda.

"No," Ilia said quickly, maybe even a little too quickly.

But she got her fingers in there all the same; she obviously wasn't that squeamish.

"Okay," Gilda said. "One. Two. Three!"

They both heaved, making the poorly-fitted toilet rattled as the water in the bowl swirled around, shaken from side to side as Gilda and Ilia both pulled upwards. The fixtures strained.

Gunfire erupted.

Gilda stopped, turning her head towards the barred door. There was a moment of silence and then more gunfire. A lot more gunfire; the sound was louder than it had been.

Gilda let go of the toilet and slunk towards the barred door out of the cell. The sound didn't sound as though it was coming from their corridor, and when Gilda put her head up against the door, looking through the bars into the corridor as the cold metal pressed against her forehead, she couldn't see anything at all.

But the sound of the gunfire didn't stop.

"What's going on?" Ilia asked as she crept up behind her.

"How should I know?" Gilda demanded in a hushed whisper. She wasn't sure why she was whispering, except that it seemed like a situation where a bit of discretion might be advised.

She listened. She could hear, or she thought that she could hear, assault rifles, the boxy Valish guns that the White Fang used in this kingdom; they were the loudest sound and the deepest, heavy staccato thumping. But she also thought that she could hear pistol fire and the slow-paced bellowing of shotguns.

Is someone attacking the police station?

"Maybe it's our comrades, come to rescue us," Ilia suggested.

"What comrades?" Gilda asked. "And we were only just caught today; what kind of rescue could be mounted that fast?"

"If not the White Fang, then who?" Ilia demanded. "Who would attack the VPD?"

The Atlesians? That didn't make any sense, but at the same time, they were the only suspects that Gilda could think of off the top of her head. Who else would want to? Who else would have the capacity? Who would do something like this? None of the suspects made any sense, but at the same time, someone was committing the crime.

The sound of gunfire was starting to slack off; Gilda could still hear the assault rifles, but she was hard pressed to hear pistol or shotgun fire still. Was that a sign that the cops were losing? The police did use assault rifles, on occasion, but if someone was attacking a police station, then she'd expect a lot more pistols and some shotguns to be used as cops fought back with their sidearms. On the other hand, she'd expect the attackers, whoever they might be, to be tooled up for the assault.

The door at the end of the corridor flew open, and a police officer, a diminutive woman with curly hair, burst through the doorway and started running down the corridor.

She had just reached level with their cell door when a burst of fire, pursuing her down the corridor, slammed into her back. The officer jerked forwards then fell, face down, next to the dead rat.

Blood began to pool out of her, creeping towards the barred door.

The door that Gilda and Ilia both started to back away from,

She couldn't see the door anymore, but Gilda could hear footsteps both hammering and squeaking on the corridor floor, several pairs of footsteps.

Four pairs of footsteps, in fact, to go with the four people — three men, one woman — who marched down the corridor, stepping into the blood around the dead cop, and looked in through the bars at Gilda and Ilia.

They were all soldiers, or at least they all looked like soldiers, wearing Valish green uniforms with blue berets and some sort of polished badge on them, and three white feathers set in the badge, rising out of it to come up above the top of the beret. Three of them had assault rifles, just the kind that Gilda had heard shooting, while one of the men had only a pistol held lightly in one hand.

The three with rifles all had sword bayonets thrust into their belts, the kind that could be used as a short sword or a knife even when it wasn't attached to the rifle.

The man with the pistol — the officer, or at least the guy in charge — looked at them with disgust. His lip curled in a sneer.

"You White Fang scum," he said. "Congratulations, you've just slaughtered your way through a police depot, killing many gallant officers, only to be put down like the animals you are by the valiant forces of the Valish Defence Force." He scoffed. "So maybe don't celebrate just yet."

"You're framing us?" Ilia asked. "Typical."

Gilda wasn't sure that there was anything typical about this. Valish soldiers killing Valish cops? Why? Just why? So that they could make themselves look good by killing the perpetrators? It was a long way to go for some good publicity, wasn't it?

Mind you, I'm not sure we've got room to talk.

She said, "Sure, genius, I'm sure everyone will believe that we shot our way through an entire police precinct without ever leaving our cell. Great plan; you've really thought this one through."

The man with the pistol rolled his eyes. "Open the door, corporal."

The corporal — the woman in the squad — bent down and pulled the dead cop's ID card off her belt. She swiped it through the pad beside the cell door, there was a blaring sound, and the door slid open with a mechanical clank.

The soldiers aimed their rifles at Gilda and Ilia.

"Out you come," said the man with the pistol. "I'd rather walk you to your execution than have my men drag your bodies across the floor."

Gilda walked forward. Time to see how stupid you are. "You know it won't look real unless you take these restraints off us."

"We can take them off your bodies," replied the man with the pistol. "Now move." He gestured down the corridor, the way that he and his men had come.

Not that stupid, then. Gilda thought as she stepped into the cell doorway. "At least take my wing restraints off," she begged. "That's the first thing I'd do if I got free, and these bindings really hurt." She looked at the man with the pistol imploringly. "Come on, if you're going to kill me, then don't let me die with restless wings." She paused. "You'll have a hard time arranging them if you wait until I'm cold."

The man with the pistol hesitated for a second. "Corporal, get them off."

"Yes, sir," the woman said, slinging her rifle across her shoulder.

The sword bayonet on her hip glistened, if only in Gilda's imagination. She kept her hands down, held in front of her in her restraints, and waited.

The corporal stepped in front of Gilda, between her and the two soldiers who had their rifles trained on her. She was smaller than Gilda, her head only coming up to about Gilda's chin or mouth. She started to unbutton Gilda's overalls down the front.

When she had gotten three buttons down, Gilda moved. She threw her head down and forward; the corporal was a little short for a headbutt, but Gilda just about managed it, slamming her forehead straight down and leaving herself with a nasty pain on the forehead, but a pain which didn't stop her hands from moving like a swooping hawk to grab the sword bayonet from the corporal's belt before the corporal staggered back into the other two soldiers.

The fire of his soldiers blocked by his own corporal, the man with the pistol raised his short and stubby weapon, but Gilda had already thrown herself forward, one foot in the dead cop's blood as she slammed bodily into the man with the pistol and drove the sword bayonet into his gut.

A gasp of pain escaped him. The pistol slipped from his trembling hand. Gilda grabbed it before it could hit the floor, fumbling with it for a second as the three Valish soldiers turned.

She aimed the pistol; it didn't even matter that her hands were bound.

Eight shots, best make them count.

She fired two shots, then another two, then two more, and each pair of shots nailed one of the Valish soldiers, blasting them backwards before they could fire their rifles. They fell back into the corridor or into the cell itself to lie at Ilia's feet.

"Nice work," Ilia said. "I wouldn't have expected you to be a good shot."

"I prefer swords, but I know my way around a gun," Gilda replied. "Now come here and stand with your legs spaced apart."

Getting Gilda's point, Ilia held out her restrained hands as she approached and spread her legs out on either side of the dead cop.

Gilda fired one of the remaining shots in the pistol straight down, shattering the middle of the restraint. Ilia pulled her hands apart, then swiftly tore open the useless bounds that remained around her wrists. Then she did the same for Gilda, smashing her restraints into fragments to clatter down on the floor at their feet.

"Thanks," Gilda said as she felt her aura return to her. She felt stronger at once, and only getting stronger still, strong enough to rip that barred door off its hinges, strong enough to punch straight through that wall, strong enough to fight her way through as many friends as these Valish soldiers had waiting outside this corridor.

Strong enough to fly all the way up to the Amity Arena with only her wings.

Once she freed her wings too.

Gilda finished what the corporal had done, unfastening the front of her overalls so fast she practically tore the buttons off, before tearing the bindings off her wings with her bare hands. Her clothes were torn apart as her wings broke through the fabric, beautiful tawny wings emerging into the light once again.

Gilda flapped them back and forth as she twisted her back. "That is so much better."

"Being yourself always feels better," Ilia said as she sidled around Gilda to kneel down at the side of the Valish leader, the man who had held the pistol.

He wasn't dead yet, though there was blood trickling down out of his mouth and a lot more blood staining his green jacket. His eyes — brown — were wide, darting this way and that as though he were looking for a way out.

"Why?" Ilia asked. "What's going on here, why did you attack this place?"

The man gasped, his chest rising and falling. "Vale…" he whispered, his voice hoarse and rattling. "Vale will rise…" His head slumped backwards, and his eyes rolled away, the light leaving them.

"'Vale will rise'?" Gilda repeated. "I didn't know it had fallen."

"Weren't they attacked by grimm not too long ago?"

"Yeah, but I could count the dead on the fingers of my hands; it wasn't a catastrophe," Gilda said. "Or rather, it was a catastrophe for us, because I'd need a lot of hands to count our dead, but for them? What do they have to be sore about, and how is shooting up a police station and blaming it on us going to help?"

"They're humans," replied Ilia. "They always think blaming faunus will help."

"You might actually be right; I can't think of a better explanation," Gilda muttered. She bent down and grabbed a rifle from one of the dead Valish soldiers. "Are you ready to get out of here?"

Ilia also picked up one of the Valish guns. "Let's go."

They crept to the end of the corridor, looking out the door through which the police officer and the soldiers had come in, the door that had swung half closed since. There was no one on the other side, no one alive at least, just another dead cop slumped against the wall, one hand reaching vainly for his pistol. Gilda led the way into the next corridor; there were cells on either side, and all the cells that weren't just empty were occupied by the dead. They were human prisoners — or at least, they didn't have any visible faunus traits that she could see — and they'd been gunned down in their cells like pigs in the slaughterhouse.

But some of the cells were empty, and the doors were open.

They kept on moving. There was another door at the end of the corridor, sturdy and sound-proofed looking and painted white, with a card reader on the wall beside it. Gilda, who had forgotten to pick up the ID from either dead police officer, was about to turn back for one of them, but Ilia held one up in her hand.

She scanned it, and there was a clunking sound as the door unlocked.

Gilda pushed the door open.

On the other side of the door, she could see into the foyer, with the chairs for visitors to wait on — or for people there less voluntarily to await processing — and the booking desk where Gilda and Ilia had had their details entered into the system. Hopefully, they could use that same system to find the location of their comrades.

Right now, though, Gilda's attention was more on the half-dozen or so faunus — with bull's horns or cloven hooves or cat's whiskers on their faces — who had been gathered together in the lobby. Around them lay the bodies of Valish police officers and a smaller number of Valish soldiers. The glass-panelled doors leading outside had bullet holes in them, suggesting that the Valish troops had come in through the front and started shooting up the place. The cops had fought back, at first, and then they had lost, and some of them had tried to run, like the unfortunate who had died outside their cell.

And now, they had rounded faunus out of the cells and were going to shoot them, claim they were all White Fang — and throw in a couple of actual White Fang members to sweeten the pot — and that they had arrived too late to save the cops, but in time to avenge them.

Gilda still couldn't work out what the endgame of all this was, but it didn't really matter. What mattered was that the soldiers were moving the faunus — still wearing restraints — around the room, stepping around the bodies of fallen cops and soldiers, posing the faunus in this position or that, so that the whole tableaux would look right when it was finished.

Gilda tightened the rifle she'd taken into her shoulder.

"One," she said. "Two. Three!"

She and Ilia burst through the door, guns blazing. Two soldiers fell instantly.

"Get down!" Gilda yelled, hoping the faunus would recognise that they were on their side. She rushed forward, trusting her aura to protect her from any return fire as she selected a new target and squeezed the trigger.

Another Valish soldier fell, blown over the booking desk and disappearing on the other side.

Gilda charged the closest Valish soldier, not shooting him but braining him with the stock of her rifle, reversing her grip on it to hit him so hard his head snapped sideways and he fell to the floor like a sack of potatoes.

The Valish were returning fire now, and trying to find cover too, but Gilda didn't bother with her own cover. She kept moving, firing as she moved, partly trusting in her movement to throw off their aim, partly wanting to keep their attention in case they decided to shoot the other faunus because they were easier targets. Ilia was moving too, leaping over the booking desk then over the other side to slam into a soldier and bear her to the ground, strangling her with one hand while firing with the other.

Gilda's bullets tore through a potted plant and into a soldier who had unwisely taken cover behind it. Gilda grabbed the plant by the stem with one hand and threw it, pot first, at a soldier lining up on Ilia; the pot shattered against the back of his head, and he staggered, gun dropping; Ilia shot him between the eyes.

A soldier who had half-retreated into one of the back offices fired at Gilda from the doorway; the impacts staggered Gilda; she could feel her aura dropping; she charged, firing wildly to force the Valish soldier to take cover as she bore down on them. She leapt, her wings unfurling for a moment as she dropped straight on her Valish opponent, hitting him across the face once, twice, three times until he stopped moving.

She grabbed his rifle for good measure, looking like a faunus Spruce Willis as she wielded an assault rifle in each hand, struggling to keep the things level as she battled the weight on one hand and the recoil in the other, rifles bouncing up and down as she sprayed fire across the room.

Yippee-ki-yay!

The remaining Valish tried to fall back; unfortunately, with Gilda stood in the closest doorway, they had to try and retreat right in front of her; Gilda didn't manage to hit all of them clean as they passed — some of them, she only winged — but they went down all the same, caught in the leg or the foot or the shoulder. She finished them off before they could shoot back.

For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound being the crash of Gilda's rifles hitting the ground as she dropped them.

"Yeah, that's right!" declared a short rabbit faunus with white ears growing out of the top of his short-cropped hair. He had been lying down prone on the ground, but now, he got to his feet. "I mean, I was just about to bust out a couple of moves and take care of all these fools when y'all burst in, but I thought I'd let you have this one. You're welcome."

Gilda couldn't keep the grin off her face as she walked towards him. "Is that right? I'm sorry to steal your thunder, buddy." She snapped his restraints, and she and Ilia proceeded to free all the other faunus who had been herded in here by the soldiers.

"Everyone, get out of here!" Ilia commanded. "Go home, change out of these prison overalls, do you what you need to do to avoid being captured; just go, now."

"And may the God of Animals watch over you," Gilda said. "And for those of you who actually did something to deserve to wind up here, why don't you think about second chances and why you have this one? Maybe God means for you to turn your life around from here on."

The faunus left, all running for the door, jumping over — or just outright stepping on — the dead as they stampeded for the exit. The door was thrown back so hard it slammed into the wall with a crunch. As they got outside, Gilda could hear them whooping for joy at their unexpected freedom.

"'Second chances'?" Ilia asked.

"I guarantee at least one of those people has done something to another faunus," Gilda said. "I don't disagree with letting them go — they might be killed if they stay here — but if one person in that bunch can be convinced not to rob his eighty-year-old neighbour for her jewellery, that's a good deed done in my book."

Ilia didn't respond to that except to say, "So you're religious? The God of Animals? A little … problematic, don't you think?"

"Maybe you can tell him that when you meet him in person; he might even listen," said Gilda. "I know a lot of people don't pay much attention to the old stories these days, but … I'd like to think there's someone looking out for us."

"They haven't done a very good job, if they are," Ilia replied.

"The God of Animals could only call the chosen to his island," Gilda said. "It was up to them to get on a boat and sail there." She looked around the room, at the dead soldiers, the dead cops, the bullet casings littering the floor. "Any theories on what's going on?"

A police radio crackled, and a voice emerged before Ilia could speak.

"This is Lieutenant Martinez of the Flying Squad!" the voice shouted. "There are officers under fire at Batterham Power Stations; we are under attack by grimm cultists. Requesting backup from any available units. Repeat: backup requested at Batterham Power Station, all available units. Can anyone hear me?"

"'Grimm cultists'?" Ilia repeated, wrinkling her nose in distaste. "Do you think … could it be that these aren't real soldiers, they're grimm cultists in disguise?"

"I guess," Gilda admitted. "But would a grimm cultist say 'Vale will rise' as he was dying? Wouldn't he say…?" Gilda paused, because her knowledge of grimm worshippers was kind of hazy. "'Long live the grimm' or something? What do they talk about?"

Ilia shrugged. "Either way, it looks like the police have got their hands full. So much the better for us."

"Not necessarily," said Gilda. "If the police are getting attacked everywhere, then our guys could be in trouble. Toss me that keycard; I'll see if I can find out where they are from the computer. You go see if you can find our weapons."

Their weapons had been booked in with the pair of them, so they should be around here somewhere.

"Sure," Ilia said, tossing Gilda the keycard, then heading off into the back.

Gilda herself jumped over the desk and pushed the dead duty sergeant in their chair out of the way to get at the computer. She used the card to sign in.

"Okay," she muttered to herself, bending down to get on a better level with the screen. "Bookings, bookings, there must be a way to see who's been processed across the whole city." She typed into the keyboard. "No, I don't want emails; ah, here it is: Processing Database."

Her ears pricked up at the sound of gunfire from somewhere behind.

"Ilia?" Gilda called. "Are you okay back there?"

"I'm good," Ilia replied.

"Glad to hear it," Gilda called without turning round. She accessed the general processing database and was presented with a grey screen and a lot of blank fields: first name, surname, date of processing, location, nationality, everything that you could conceivably want to know about a prisoner.

Because she was looking for several prisoners, Gilda entered today's date as the date of processing and left the other fields blank.

She was confronted with sixty-three entries, which seemed like a lot, but it was a big city, she supposed. Luckily, all of the bookings had a photo attached — including Ilia, who was one of the first entries on account of her surname, and who was scowling at the camera with a look that would have eviscerated the photographer if only looks could kill. Gilda was a little tempted to scroll through to the end and find out what her photo looked like, but she stayed focussed. She had a job to do, after all.

And that job was to recognise the photos of her team, since they'd all been entered without names. Because they'd been unconscious at the time. Luckily, Woundwort had a very distinctive face, even with his eyes closed.

"I've found them!" Gilda shouted to Ilia.

Ilia emerged out of the back, with a black bundle held in both arms and Gilda's swords balanced on top of the bundle. She put both of them down on top of the desk. "I found our clothes, too," Ilia said. "I don't want to wear this any longer than I have to."

"You'll have to wear it for a little bit longer; we don't have time to change," Gilda declared. "They're being held under guard at Kingsland hospital, and we need to get there now — before any soldiers do."

XxXxX​

Its name, after the manner of huntsmen naming their weapons, was Red Bow, because Martinez had tied a red ribbon into a bow around the barrel when she'd given the gun to Mike as an anniversary present. It was a large calibre hunting rifle, double-barrelled with a heavy wooden stock and enough stopping power to make a goliath think twice. Martinez had gotten it for her husband to take out to sea with him in case he ran into a Sea Feilong or the like. Besides, it had a wooden stock, and wood was … one of the early anniversary ones, right?

Since Mike wasn't at sea right now, Martinez had asked if she could borrow it, and he'd said yes.

As she unwrapped it now, with her pistol empty and bullets slamming into the side of the truck, Martinez was glad she had.

The bullets were each bigger than her thumb. She opened up the breech and inserted a single round into each barrel — if there was one thing that wasn't great about this, it was the rate of fire.

Still, needs must, and hopefully, it would give those grimm freaks outside a fright.

More rounds slammed into her truck, hitting it with enough force to rock it to one side, denting the side on which they hit.

Outside, Martinez could hear the fire of both the grimm cultists and the cops, although the fire of the cops was starting to slack off a little bit; Martinez guessed she wasn't the only one who had started to run low on ammo. Hopefully, it was a case of people being careful about their shots and not a case of everyone running out like her.

Not that she had any room to talk — way back when she was a rookie, her first sergeant had warned her she was too quick to empty her pistol — but if everyone just ran out, then they were going to be in big trouble.

She held Red Bow in one hand and the box of ammo — not a very big box for the size of the bullets; she'd need to be careful with this — in the other as she shuffled back towards the door out of the truck.

Mallard was crouched at the front of the truck; he was half-leaning around the front and using his sword to fire blasts of dust towards the grimm cultists.

He took cover and glanced at Martinez as she leapt down. "I don't suppose you've got another one of those, El-Tee?"

"Sorry," Martinez said. "You running low on dust?"

"I don't have an unlimited supply," Mallard said.

"Okay, switch places with me and save your dust," Martinez told him. "Let me and Red Bow take a turn." To the large gun, she said, "Okay, honey, let's see what you've got."

Mallard crept around her while Martinez edged towards the front of the truck. She held the rifle upright, so that the top of the barrel could be seen through the shattered windows if anyone was looking that way.

She glanced around the truck, letting enemy fire whistle past her face as she tried to work out where the bad guys were. It was hard to spot them in the dark, but a lot of muzzle flashes seemed to be coming from around the second truck that they'd come in on; like the cops, they were using their vehicle as cover.

Why can't they just charge at us screaming their crap about the end times and stuff like that? Why can't they be as nuts as 'cultist' makes them sound?

Still, while using their truck for cover may have been a smart move, it also gave her a nice, big target to aim at.

Martinez cocked the rifle, dropped down on one knee, and raised Red Bow to her shoulder.

A bullet hit her, but Martinez didn't let it throw her off. She took aim at the truck's engine block.

She fired.

Red Bow roared a deafening roar and kicked back so hard into her shoulder that it did more damage to Martinez's aura than the bullet just a second ago had done.

But that was nothing compared to what it did to the truck that she'd fired at. The whole truck was knocked sideways, tilting forty-five degrees on its axis, the engine half-exploded, throwing off fragments of metal from the front and sides of the vehicle even as flames began to billow out of it. There was a groaning sound as the truck, precariously balanced on two wheels, began to fall onto its side. Martinez could hear the grimm worshippers shouting in alarm as they ran to get out of the way.

Yeah, that's right; you better run, she thought as she aimed her second shot.

She tried to couch the rifle even more firmly into her shoulder this time.

She fired again.

The truck exploded, a plume of fire and smoking reaching into the night sky as grimm cultists howled in pain.

Martinez put down Red Bow and reached up to grab her pick-axe handle from the seat of the truck.

"Okay, let's go!" she shouted. "Everyone, come on!"

Martinez screamed wordlessly as she leapt out of cover and started running towards the truck, pick-axe handle brandished overhead. Now was the moment; they were shocked by the destruction, a lot of them sounded like they'd been hurt or taken out, now was the moment when their nerve would fail them; all they had to do was be aggressive enough, and they could bag the whole bunch — then find out why nobody had come to back them up.

She knew that Mallard, at least, would follow her, and she just had to trust that other cops would follow her as well as she ran around the smouldering wreckage of the truck and brained a grimm cultist with her axe-handle.

There were grimm worshippers on the ground, dead or wounded; the rest were struggling to get it together; they were panicked, vulnerable; they were—

They were getting shot.

Fire mowed them down, fire from the machine gun mounted on top of the Defence Force armoured car that was coming around the corner, followed by two trucks in Valish green. As the machine gun atop the armoured car swept left and right, soldiers leapt from out of the trucks, swarming around the car as they, too, opened fire.

The grimm cultists didn't stand a chance. Ambushed out in the open, taken by surprise, they barely got a couple of shots off before they went down in a hail of bullets.

Martinez stared. The military. The gods-damned military had saved the day.

Well, who'd have thought it, huh?

Some cops were cheering, whooping, yelling out their thanks. Everyone was leaving their cover, even those who hadn't joined Martinez's rush. They walked across the open space in front of the power plant towards the soldiers.

Martinez did the same; holding her pick-axe handle lightly in her left hand, she approached the Valish officer — a major, judging by the crown on his shoulder — and held out her right hand.

"It's Major, isn't it?" she asked. "I'm Lieutenant DJ Martinez, VPD Flying Squad. Let me tell you, there's a lot of people who are glad to see you guys right now."

The Valish major smiled tightly. He brought up his own hand.

There was a pistol in it.

Martinez was raising her pick-axe handle when he fired. The shot hit her in the stomach, the close range making Martinez bend despite her aura. He fired again and again, and his soldiers were firing too, firing on the cops who had emerged from cover to greet the soldiers as their rescuers.

And the major still had that tight smile on his face.

Martinez ignored the impacts, the increasing damage to her aura, to step forward and whack him across the face with her pick-axe handle. His whole body whirled around, spinning, slamming into the front of the armoured car.

Martinez turned. She started to run, she needed to get back to cover, she needed to get the word out, she needed to warn anyone who might be listening that—

Assault rifles boomed, their bullets tearing into her aura, knocking Martinez forwards—

Breaking her aura—

Tearing into Martinez.

Martinez screamed in pain as she was hit in the back. More than once, she'd swear that it was more than once, it hurt like it was more than once in some places.

Other places, it didn't hurt at all.

She couldn't feel her legs. She couldn't feel them giving way to dump her flat, face-first, on the tarmac. She couldn't feel them. She couldn't feel anything. There was pain, there was so much pain, and then … then there was nothing at all.

Martinez could feel tears in her eyes as she tried to drag herself along with her hands; her hands were scraping at the tarmac, tearing themselves up. She had … had to keep moving.

Her boys. She could see her boys in front of her, she could see Tyler and Stuart, she could see them standing there. She could see Mike too, with his hands on their shoulders. He was a good father. He'd take good care of them.

But she didn't … didn't want him to have to. She wanted … she had to get home … had to get back to…

A shadow fell over her. A military boot stepped on her hand. Martinez cried out in pain as the bones cracked.

It was the major, the major with that damned tight smile; he was still smiling as he looked down at her.

Martinez looked up at him. "Why?" she asked.

The major didn't answer. He just aimed his pistol.

BANG!

 

[ScipioSmith]

Jolly Hill

​

Sunset led the way out of the Councillor's residence. The street was quiet, and not just because all the soldiers were laid out unconscious in the middle of the road around their truck. In the rest of the street, there was no sign of anyone, no one stirred from the houses within, there weren't even any visible lights on, no sign that anyone—

Sunset caught sight of something: a twitch of a curtain across the road, a brief flash or chink of light that was gone as swiftly and as soon as it had appeared.

So people were watching, if only tentatively. The fear of General Blackthorn's martial law declaration, or perhaps just the fact that a truckload of soldiers had just pulled up or maybe even the fact that someone had just taken out all those soldiers was giving them sufficient pause to stay indoors and pretend they weren't here, even as their curiosity tempted them to briefly expose themselves.

Sunset wondered if they recognised her. She still had her helmet on, so her face was concealed, but her tail wasn't, and she was wearing the same outfit that she'd worn for the Vytal Tournament. Did they recognise her, and if so, what would they think about her attacking the Valish troops and spiriting off the First Councillor like this?

Ultimately they would think what they liked; Sunset couldn't change their minds, she could only help Councillor Emerald get this situation under control, and then … and then, it would be up to the First Councillor to convince the people that everything had turned out for the best.

Councillor Emerald stepped out into the street. "Is something wrong, Miss Shimmer?"

"No, Councillor," Sunset said softly. "I was just thinking about how you've got a harder job than I have. I've only got to keep you alive tonight; you've got to run this city tomorrow."

Councillor Emerald let out a bark of laughter. "If there is still a Vale to run tomorrow, and if it is a city free from military rule and safe from grimm, then I will gladly endure all the hardships." He paused. "Do you think the grimm will attack?"

"I think they already have, Councillor," Sunset replied. "But, aside from wishing I could be there with my friends, that worries me less than what's going on inside the walls. My friends, General Ironwood's forces, all my fellow…" She stopped, remembering that she was not a Beacon student anymore; that was why she was here. "All the students, they can handle grimm. Even a lot of grimm. It's the Siren that concerns me, the Siren and what she has done to your military."

"What…" Councillor Emerald began. "What can we expect from this … this creature? If you defeat her, will General Blackthorn and all the rest become themselves again?"

"I'm afraid I don't know, Councillor," Sunset admitted. "I would hope so, but I don't know. I've never fought one of these things before."

"I'd never even heard of them before," Councillor Emerald muttered. "At some point, you must tell me how you know of it."

"We'll see how that goes, Councillor," Sunset murmured, without committing to anything. She had told the Councillor as much as he had need and, perhaps, the right to know, but to tell him everything? She didn't dislike him, by any means, but they weren't that close. "Now, we should—"

"Dad?"

Councillor Emerald turned around. Sunset leaned sideways to look past him and see Bramble standing in the doorway, wearing yellow pyjamas with elephants on them that were just a little too small for his legs, riding up above his ankles.

A middle-aged woman stood over him, her hands on his shoulders.

"Bramble," Councillor Emerald said softly. He bent down as he approached his son. "What are you doing down here? You should be in bed." He looked up at the woman as he said that.

"I'm sorry, Mister Councillor," she said apologetically. "But—"

"I heard noises," Bramble said. "What's going on? Are you leaving?"

Councillor Emerald knelt down in front of him. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I am. There's something that I have to take care of, for the good of Vale. But I shan't be long. If you go back to bed, then by the time you wake up, this will all be over, and everything will be fine."

"You promise?" Bramble asked.

"I promise," Councillor Emerald said. "I will see you in the morning."

Bramble smiled a little and looked over his father to spot Sunset standing behind him.

"Sunset?" he asked. "It is you, isn't it?"

Sunset smiled at him as she moved to stand beside the Councillor, following his lead in kneeling in front of the little boy. "Yes," she said. "Yes, it's me."

"Are you going to protect my Dad?" Bramble asked solemnly.

Sunset had promised Councillor Emerald that she would not put his life over the good of Vale. She could feel Ruby wagging her finger at her in her head, demonstrating with her about the evil consequences that a promise like this could lead to.

But the little boy in front of her was a reminder of why it was easier to put the people you knew over the people you didn't — even if he was also a reminder of why you shouldn't.

But am I really going to tell a kid that I'll let his father die for the greater good if that's what it takes?

No, no, she wasn't. That wasn't the kind of person Sunset Shimmer was. She wasn't the kind of person who could tell a kid that.

Was she the kind of person who could…?

Well, hopefully, with good fortune — and all the skill and ingenuity that she could muster up — they wouldn't have to find out.

She smiled at Bramble. "Sure I will," she said. "Of course I will. I'm going to keep your dad perfectly safe. He'll be back before you know it." She paused, but couldn't help but add, "He might even have a lot more time to spend with you in future."

"Sunset and I need to be going," Councillor Emerald declared. "And you need to get your sleep." He looked for a second as though he were about to stand up, but instead, he reached out and pulled Bramble into an embrace.

"Tonight," he said, "is nothing more than a bad dream. One that will fade away when you wake up, like something that never was." He kissed the boy on the cheek and let him go. "Now, upstairs with you, and stay there."

The Councillor himself stayed kneeling. Kneeling on the street in front of his door as the woman — some sort of housekeeper or nanny, presumably — started to chivvy Bramble upstairs, shutting the door behind them.

Only after a few seconds kneeling in front of the closed black door did the Councillor regain his feet, adjusting the fit of his jacket with both hands. He looked down at Sunset. "'Sure I will,' Miss Shimmer?"

Sunset remained kneeling on the ground, looking up at him. "What would you have had me say to him, Councillor?"

Councillor Emerald fastened his jacket. "You gave me your word, Miss Shimmer."

"I will not let Vale down," Sunset said. "Not tonight." She gestured down the street. "My bike is this way."

Councillor Emerald glanced at the soldiers. "Are they going to wake up?"

"Not until morning, I should think, at least," Sunset said. "I didn't hold back my power much. You needn't worry about them waking up and breaking down the door again; by that time, all this will be over. Come, Councillor, if you will."

Her bike was waiting where she had left it, haphazardly parked, or more accurately, stopped dead where she had dismounted to assault the Valish troops.

Councillor Emerald stopped once he got a good look at it.

He stared at it. He thrust his hands into his jacket pockets.

"It seems to me there is a good chance that we may die before I ever set eyes upon the Military Headquarters," he observed.

Sunset rolled her eyes. I am sick and tired, absolutely sick and tired, of all the casual insults rained down upon my bike. Never has a poor vehicle been so undeservedly slandered.

"This bike," Sunset declared, "will get us where we need to go, Councillor, have no fear. You may depend upon it."

She did not say that he might depend upon it as he might depend upon her, because that might have been to the motorcycle's detriment rather than its benefit.

"It is fast," she added, "and more manoeuvrable than any car we could drive — that you could drive, Councillor, for I only know how to ride. I know that she looks a little … eccentric, but she's got it where it counts." She paused. "Now, before we mount up, one more thing." She placed a hand on Councillor Emerald's shoulder and cast the reverse want-it need-it spell on him. Green lines spread out from all around him, rippling along the ground like cracks from a fault line, disappearing off into the distance.

Sunset took a deep breath as she stepped away.

Councillor Emerald shuddered. "That felt … like being doused in cold water seems the closest comparison. What—?"

"Just a little trick to keep you from notice," Sunset said. "And, in keeping you from notice, to keep you from harm also. At some point, I'll have to drop it so you can try and give some orders; otherwise, you would be shouting into the void with not an ear to hear you, but until then, well, people who don't know you're there won't shoot at you."

"But will they shoot at you, Miss Shimmer?" asked Councillor Emerald.

"Unfortunately, Councillor, if I were to do this trick on myself, you wouldn't know I was here," Sunset explained. "And that would be … awkward."

"Undoubtedly," muttered Councillor Emerald dryly. "Your semblance seems to be a plethora of diverse abilities, Miss Shimmer."

"Yes, Councillor, it is a veritable box of delights," said Sunset. She got on her bike. "Climb aboard, Councillor."

Councillor Emerald climbed on behind her. "It's a good thing that faunus with horns or antlers are exempt from the laws on crash helmets," he said. "I should hate to set a bad example."

Sunset chuckled as she pushed the visor of her own helmet down over her face. She felt Councillor Emerald put his arms around her waist, although a little more loosely than was perhaps advisable.

"Hold on tighter, Councillor; there is no call for propriety here," Sunset shouted, so as to be heard through her helmet.

The First Councillor tightened his grip. Sunset could feel him pressing against her back, although that also meant he was pressed against Soteria and Sol Invictus, which probably wasn't all that comfortable for him.

It wouldn't be too long.

Sunset kick started her bike, making the engine growl like a tiger. She turned in the middle of the road to head back the way she'd come, back in the direction of the Valish Headquarters.

Where the Siren waited.

The Siren, and Cinder.

As she retraced her tracks along the empty roads, down the deserted streets, Sunset had a little time to think about what that meant. The need to rush off and rescue Councillor Emerald meant that she had been able to put off thinking about it until now, but now … now, with the roads so quiet, she had — unfortunately or otherwise — enough time and space in her head to think about it. About Cinder, enslaved by the Siren. Bound to her — but not so completely that she had given away Sunset's location.

Cinder, the real Cinder, Cinder in all her flaws and in her glories too, was still in there.

And yet, that Cinder was half-hidden beneath the Siren's will. Yes, Cinder had concealed Sunset, but there would come a time when Sunset could not be concealed, and then … would Cinder be able to refuse to fight Sunset? Could she resist the Siren's will to that extent?

And if she could not…

Sunset didn't want to fight Cinder. She didn't want to for a whole host of reasons, not least of which was the fact that she was not at all certain that she would win such a fight. It had taken the whole team to bring down Cinder last night, and while Pyrrha had beaten Cinder by herself, Cinder had been holding back her magic at the time; Sunset couldn't expect the same courtesy from an enthralled Cinder. And Cinder could deflect her magic; she'd done it last night, using convection currents to turn the bolts aside.

And even if Sunset managed to defeat her, if she managed to pull a splendid triumph out of the bag, then … what? Kill her? Cut Cinder down?

She didn't want to do that either. She … very much did not want to do that, for all that it would solve a host of problems. With Cinder's death, Amber would be the only Fall Maiden once again and a shadow lifted from her, Professor Ozpin's mind would be set at ease, and … Sunset might prove to Ruby that she was not wholly unworthy and without use.

Yet for all that, Sunset did not desire it. There was … there was too much between them to end in blood on a black sword.

Perhaps Sunset's best hope was that Cinder felt the same way.

If only she could make her realise or recall it.

Perhaps … perhaps…

Sunset was roused from pondering some future confrontation with Cinder, inevitable though it might seem and rapidly though that future was barrelling towards them, by the fact that they were not alone on the road.

They had been, to their good fortune. The streets were clear; the lanes were empty. Not too surprising, all things considered: with the grimm attacking the Amity Arena, fighting in the streets of Vale, the declaration of martial law, General Blackthorn threatening to shoot people caught breaking curfew, it was no mystery why people were keeping to their own homes. No doubt, they were keeping their doors locked, their ears open, and their hopes bent towards the return of sanity and peace.

As Councillor Emerald had told Bramble, tonight would seem like a bad dream — provided that he and Sunset succeeded.

In the meantime, Sunset's helmet was muffling the sounds of fighting going on elsewhere in the city, but not so much that all the sound of it was gone. She could still hear, though it seemed very far off indeed, and a good thing too. She meant to steer well clear of the hotshots of the fighting; just because Councillor Emeral couldn't be noticed didn't mean he couldn't be caught by a stray bullet.

And then, as Sunset rounded a corner down a street of terraced houses, their luck ran out, because the road was no longer empty to them.

It was occupied by a Valish military convoy: an armoured car, a sort of light tank on wheels — Sunset had a vague suspicion it was not actually a tank, but right now, she didn't care about the fine details so much as about the big gun on the turret — a couple of trucks at least, and motorcycle outriders on both flanks of the column. They were trundling down the road, moving at a deliberate and steady pace, and the turret of the tank, or whatever it was, was open. A man was sticking his upper body out of the turret, addressing the empty streets through a bullhorn.

"Do not be alarmed! By order of General Blackthorn of the Valish Defence Force, martial law is now in effect. Do not panic. Remain in your homes. A curfew is in effect. Anyone caught breaking curfew will be shot on sight. Do not be alarmed. We are here to protect you. Everything is under control."

Sunset's first instinct was to turn her bike around and head back the way they had come, round the corner, out of sight. Unfortunately, the Valish troops had already seen her. The machine gun mounted on top of the armoured car was turning her direction.

"Hold on!" Sunset shouted as she squeezed the accelerator hard, sending the bike leaping forwards, towards the Valish.

She took her hand briefly — very briefly — off one handle to shoot a burst of magic towards the machine gunner, hitting him square in the chest and dropping him out of sight into the recesses of the armoured car.

Sunset grabbed the handle again just as her bike started to wobble.

The bike drove in front of the armoured car, in front of one of the motorcycle outriders, and then she turned, tires screeching, vaulting up onto the roadside pavement as she flew down the column, past the tank and the trucks and the other armoured car at the back of the convoy, flying past them them all. She turned aside at the first opportunity; she was going so fast her bike nearly fell over, but it was worth it to get out of the Valish line of fire. She wasn't quite going the right way, but she could easily—

"Miss Shimmer!" Councillor Emerald shouted.

Sunset checked her mirrors. Two Valish motorcyclists — no, four — were following her, and one of the armoured cars.

This one also had a machine gun. And it was taking aim.

Sunset kept hold of one handle — the accelerator handle, on the right — and threw her left hand out behind her as best she could, reaching around Councillor Emerald as best she could, conjuring up a shield between them and that machine gun.

Sunset could feel the bullets thudding into it, the force of impact transmitting through the magic to jar her arm. She swerved wildly — no point just taking hits when you could at least try to avoid the bullets — leaning left, then right, zipping from one side of the road to the other as the tracer rounds slammed into the road around her.

She needed to turn again, she needed — or wanted, for sure — to get out of the line of fire, but there were no good options; this was a long, straight street of terraced houses, with a dry cleaners and a coffee shop on one side of the road, but neither of them offered much in the way of escape options. There was only the left turn toward which Sunset was racing and the hope that there would be more ways out once they made the turn.

Sunset squeezed on the accelerator as hard as it would go, feeling more rounds slam into her shield even as she tried to keep the gunner guessing as to where she was going to go next.

The fire slacked off. Sunset glanced down at her mirrors. The armoured car was still behind her but had ceased fire — for the moment, at least — as two of the motorcycles raced up on either side of her.

One drew level with her, past Sunset's shield covering her and the Councillor's back; their face — their whole head — was concealed beneath a helmet painted in camouflage greens and browns. They had one hand on the handlebars and one hand on the boxy pistol they aimed at Sunset.

Sunset swerved into them, narrowly avoiding an outright collision but getting close enough to grab their gun arm and pull it towards her. The Valish soldier, yanked in Sunset's direction, struggled to keep their tottering bike under control as it swayed on the road. They fired once, twice, three times with their pistol, the bullets flying past her face, and the muzzle flashes dimmed by her smoky visor. Sunset twisted the pistol out of their hand — it clattered to the road and was swiftly left behind — and then let go of his arm to grab him by the helmet instead.

They hit her, battering at her chest with their now-released hand, but Sunset ignored it as she slammed their head down into the handlebars of her bike.

Sorry to treat you like this, but needs must.

The Valish soldier flailed as she forced their head down, one arm waving, the other still trying to control their bike. Sunset bashed their helmet into the bars once, twice; they started to struggle a bit less; she did it a third time, and they lost control of the bike. Sunset let them go before he could take her with them, and they skidded out, motorcycle slipping away to slide frantically across the road, rider rolling after it in a tangle of arms and legs.

The other outrider was a little more cautious after that; they didn't draw level with Sunset — they didn't even try — they hung back and aimed their pistol from behind her.

Sunset flung her hand out in their direction as best she could, blasts of magic flying from her fingertips. Most of them missed, though the outrider had to swerve and sway on their bike to avoid them, but one bolt struck the wheel of their motorcycle, flipping bike and rider up into the air before dumping the outrider headfirst into the road with their bike on top of them.

The gunner on the armoured car started to fire again. Sunset leaned so far to the left that Councillor Emerald's antlers were practically scraping the road as the bullets flew overhead. She was almost at the turn now, and as she turned she raised her palm and fired two blasts of magic in quick succession at the pursuing car.

They glanced off the armour, flying up into the night sky without harming the vehicle or the gunner.

Sunset gritted her teeth, but at least she'd made the turn now, the turn that led to another long street, but this one had shops and plenty of turnings and a shopping centre!

Yes!

Sunset raced down the road, heading straight on, passing two opportunities, three, to turn off in a different direction.

"Miss Shimmer?" Councillor Emerald said loudly, making his voice heard despite Sunset's helmet.

The remaining two motorcycles, faster than the armoured car, turned the corner in pursuit.

Sunset shot past another turning.

The armoured car turned the corner.

"Miss Shimmer?!" Councillor Emerald shouted.

Sunset turned hard, tires screeching as she raced towards the glass doors of the shopping centre. The name was still illuminated: Jolly Hill shopping centre.

She had just enough time to register a poster on one of the doors for some kind of wedding fair before she blew up door and poster alike with a bolt of magic, shattering the glass and sending it down in shards to cover the floor.

Sunset plunged through the hole, leaping over the little metal lip of the doors and bursting into the shopping centre; she immediately had to swerve to avoid the wedding dress mounted on a plinth right behind the doors.

There was no one around, but the lights were still on, the shutters hadn't closed over the stores, and in the sterile white lighting reflecting off the white floor, Sunset could see the common space was littered with wedding dresses on pedestals behind velvet ropes, some on their own and some in clusters, empty stalls offering fittings or photography, artisanal jewellers, cakes.

So that's what they meant by wedding fair, Sunset thought. She drove past a strapless, shoulderless wedding gown with a bodice and a ballgown skirt and thought it might look nice on Pyrrha.

Pity I don't have time to take pictures, Sunset thought as the Valish outriders destroyed two more of the glass doors to follow her inside.

Sunset grabbed a stallfull of wedding cakes with her telekinesis and threw them out in front of the leading biker; she mistimed, the cakes splattered all over the floor in front of them, and they simply drove through the resulting mess, icing and buttercream sticking to the grooves of their tires.

One was on the other side of the dresses and stands; the other was coming up behind her.

Sunset heard their pistol crack twice; she leaned forwards into the handlebars.

There was an old-fashioned carriage — as in horse and carriage — black, with red lines, sitting in the middle of the concourse, with a sign advertising traditional wedding transportation.

Perfect.

Sunset circled around the carriage, her hand glowed as she started to grip the antique vehicle.

The Valish outrider pursued.

Sunset shoved the carriage with her telekinesis, rolling it across the floor and into the Valish motorcyclist, bearing him into and through the window of the nearby budget clothes shop. He lay, unmoving, with all the broken mannequins in their Fall collection.

A bullet slammed into the side of Sunset's helmet. She was knocked sideways, her bike skidding and slipping on the shopping centre floor. She grabbed the handles with both hands as she fought for control, leaning back to the right to right herself, pulling the bike level. She heard another bang — from a gun larger than a pistol — though she didn't feel an impact.

"Councillor, tell me that didn't hit you!" she shouted.

"I don't believe it did," replied Councillor Emerald.

Sunset turned her head to the right. The last motorcyclist had stopped their bike and unslung a lever rifle from across their back. As Sunset watched, they worked the lever again.

The armoured car crashed through the doors, shattering the remaining glass and the metal and everything else that got in their way, ignoring the debris that landed on the hood of the vehicle as they ploughed on. Wedding dresses, velvet ropes, stalls and stands and signs, all fell before them as they drove into the shopping centre with all the inexorable force of a great wave, sweeping inland no matter what buildings might stand along the shore.

Sunset drove — dove, one might say — into the Valish Home Stores whose open doors gaped open to receive her. The Valish motorcyclist fired at her again as she drove in front of them but missed, and Sunset was through an entrance crowded with Vytal-themed homeware. The faces of Team SAPR smiled up at her from a stack of lampshades as she drove by.

Another shot flew over Sunset's — and Councillor Emerald's — head, shattering a plate on display.

Sunset grabbed everything in reach with her telekinesis: display tables and chairs laid out for nonexistent dinners, sofas, lamps, cushions, and rugs, she grabbed them all in as great magical handfuls as she could and dragged or threw them all past and behind her towards the doors, hoping to hit her pursuer.

She didn't hear anything — and that included any more shots from that rifle as she drove down an aisle filled with mugs on either side.

She reached the bottom of the aisle and turned as she heard the armoured car begin to crash through the debris she'd piled up around the entrance.

Fortunately, big stores like this always had more than way in or out.

At least, she hoped they did.

This one did, thank goodness, another door at a right angle to the one that she'd come in through, past a wall covered with kitchen utensils. Sunset might have tried throwing those around too, but she doubted they'd do much good against an armoured car.

She was more interested in the escalator to the second floor position right in front of the exit.

She raced towards it, hearing the armoured car continue to crash through everything in its wake. Aisles fell, crockery and glassware shattered, but the machine gun didn't fire, not yet. They must not have had a clear shot.

Sunset burst out of the store, her bike speeding towards the inert escalator. The ridged metal steps looked like they had teeth, waiting to tear into her tires.

Sunset teleported, a crack and a burst of green light bearing her, her passenger, and her bike up to the top of the escalator where they reappeared, a foot up in the air over the top step.

They landed, skidding along the ground as Sunset broke and turned, slamming her foot into the floor to bring the bike to a stop before it bore them all into the window of a jewellers.

Charm bracelets and necklaces glistened as Sunset dismounted her motorcycle.

"Stay here, Councillor," she said. She took a couple of steps away from the bike, towards the escalator and the brass rail with the transparent plastic underneath that separated the edge of the first floor from the drop down to the ground.

She didn't approach all the way, not yet. She held out her arms and conjured four — then two more to be on the safe side — six spears of magic hovering above her, poised to descend.

She wasn't sure how many people were in the armoured car, exactly, but she didn't think it could be more than six.

She heard, but didn't see, the armoured car crash through the exit from Valish Home Stores; it sounded like it was a bit of a squeeze for it: she heard the screech of scraping metal for a moment before she only heard the soft sound of an engine idling.

Sunset took another step forward. She didn't want them to see her too early. She wanted them to get out of their armoured car and follow her up the escalator.

She couldn't hear any doors opening or closing, but that might just be because her helmet was muffling the sounds.

She did hear footsteps thudding up the escalator. Sunset dashed forward to see four men with rifles jogging up the still metal steps. A fifth man still manned the machine gun, covering them.

Sunset unleashed all of her magical spears, the emerald bolts descending on her targets, two for the man on the gun. He opened fire; Sunset threw herself to one side as the bullets soared through the air. She heard cries of alarm briefly interrupted.

Then nothing.

Sunset looked up. She scrambled up onto her hands and knees at least. The machine gunner was out of it, slumped across his now-silent machine gun. The other Valish soldiers were all down too, sprawled across one another halfway up the escalator.

There was no sign of the motorcycle outrider. Sunset could only conclude that she'd gotten them with all of those domestic goods she'd thrown around earlier.

There was no sound of any other pursuit.

Sunset pushed her visor up. "I think we're good," she said. "Are you sure you're not hurt?"

"I'm fine," Councillor Emerald assured her. "I…" He paused for a second. "They ran into us completely by accident, not hunting for either of us, hardly able to recognise you; they bumped into us by random chance and decided to start shooting. To chase you through Vale and kill you."

"We are breaking curfew, Councillor," Sunset said.

"Please don't be glib, Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald murmured.

"Sorry, Councillor."

"These … these are Valish men and women," Councillor Emerald declared. "Not robots, not mindless automatons, men and women of Vale, whose homes are here in Vale, and yet … I could understand them coming to get me; if Blackthorn honestly thought he could do a better job running this city, if his soldiers thought so, then why not take me into custody, by force if necessary? But this? To shoot their fellow Valish for being out on the street? How could they do such a thing? How does it not revolt their spirits?"

"They may not be mindless automatons in ordinary circumstances," Sunset said softly. "But I fear that is what the Siren has made of them."

Councillor Emerald hesitated. "I must admit I wasn't entirely sure whether to believe you about that," he said. "It seemed a very fanciful, fantastical idea; I could conceive that General Blackthorn had been hiding his ambition and his hatred of me secretly all this time; it would have been as plausible. But now … I think you must be right."

"I am, Councillor, and you should be glad of that," Sunset told him. "Magical creatures are a lot easier to deal with than the human heart. If the military really had decided they wanted rid of you, you might need a little more help than me."

Councillor Emerald seemed for a moment as if he might smile but did not. "As you say, Miss Shimmer."

Sunset didn't want to leave the way that they'd come — just in case any of the Valish soldiers had called for backup or the rest of their convoy came sniffing around — so she took her bike by the handlebars and walked it towards a set of directions stuck to one of the columns stretching up towards the ceiling.

The arrow for 'Exit to Car Park' pointed up and in the opposite direction to their entrance, complete with a number 3 next to it.

Sunset took off her helmet for a second as the two of them walked her bike to the nearest elevator, a glass box that let them see out of it onto the shopping centre around them as they rode it up to the third floor. Not that Sunset was doing much watching. Instead, her thoughts had returned to the battle that would come once they finally reached the headquarters.

The battle with Cinder.

Her fingers tapped on the handlebars of her bike.

"Miss Shimmer?" Councillor Emerald murmured. "Is everything alright?"

Sunset wished that she'd kept her helmet on; then, he wouldn't have been able to see her face so clearly. "I'm fine, Councillor," she replied, because how could she tell him that she was worried that she couldn't win the fight against Cinder at the place she was leading him to? He was relying on her to keep him safe; his son was relying on her to keep his father safe. She had promised that she would.

So I can't lose, Cinder, not even to you. I have to beat you, or a little boy will cry.

I have to beat you, and then…

Yes. And then, and then, and then. If Sunset won the fight, as she really had to win the fight, then her problems were not at an end.

I really wish you hadn't come to Beacon, then I could cut you down with a clear conscience.

Except that wasn't really true, was it?

Getting ahead of myself; I need to beat her first.

She can deflect my magical blasts, but not telekinesis; I'll keep her at a distance and attack her from all sides. I'll do what I did to Bolin.

Of course, she's a lot more capable than Bolin.

I'll grab whatever I can in the actual headquarters and throw it at her.

Will that be enough?

It had better be; I can't hit her with a magical attack — maybe I can, but only if I'm lucky — and she's better with the sword than I am.

But she's not invulnerable. She's been beaten twice already, once in a one-on-one. I just have to make sure that I stay out of the way of her sword and her magic. I can shield myself, she can't, so I can protect myself in ways that she cannot. I can protect myself and then hit back.

Shield, then riposte. Shield, then riposte all the way to victory.

Victory, and…

Sunset looked down at her hands, her hands which were currently still enclosed within the white bridal gloves.

Perhaps…

She was grateful when the elevator carried them to their destination and the glass doors opened to let them out.

They stepped out opposite a toy shop, Fun-'n'-Games, with its window full of Vytal Festival merchandise — along with a big sticker in the window stating that it was all discounted.

They could have waited until tomorrow to do that.

"We can go through here, come out on the other side and be closer to the car park," Councillor Emerald said, pointing into the toyshop.

Sunset looked at him. "You've been here, Councillor?"

"Do you think that Councillors don't go shopping, Miss Shimmer?" Councillor Emerald asked as he led the way.

"I thought you might have people to do that for you, Councillor," Sunset admitted. "The woman left with Bramble, maybe."

"Mrs. Hughes is very useful," Councillor Emerald agreed. "But there are some things that I prefer to pick up myself. I was here just a couple of days ago, getting Bramble a, um," — he scratched his elbow — "an Amity Colosseum playset, and some additional figures to play with in it."

Sunset glanced at the window as she and the Councillor walked in. There were several different Amity Arenas there, some of which dispensed with the stands and the like and were just battlefields with the biomes, others of which presented a more complete recreation, right down to the externals. One of them was even floating.

"Which one, if I may ask?"

"The expensive one, that can use real gravity dust to float and has the biomes coming up out of the floor," Councillor Emerald replied.

Sunset wasn't altogether sure why you'd want an Amity Arena that really flew, at least not if you were Bramble's size and it would just float above your head where you couldn't get it or see anything that was going on within, but that wasn't something you said to a father who was trying his best. He'd probably just bought the most expensive one because he thought it was also the best or the coolest. "I'm sure he'll … so there are some figures who come with it?"

"A couple of Shade teams I'd never heard of," Councillor Emerald said. "I brought some of the … they called them blister packs, of teams that he would like better."

Sunset guessed from the way that he was playing ever so slightly coy that he had gotten Bramble Team SAPR but he didn't want to admit it in case he stroked her ego. Well, it was satisfying to know, to think, or to imagine that he had.

"Did he like it?" she asked instead.

"He hasn't got it yet," Councillor Emerald told her. "I was going to give it to him tonight, before…"

"You can give it to him tomorrow," Sunset said. "I'm sure he'll love it."

"I hope so, Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald said softly.

The toy shop almost seemed to have become a Vytal Tournament shop as Sunset and Councillor Emerald walked through it. Sunset spotted the blister packs that Councillor Emerald had referred to; the figures in question were quite small scale, moulded plastic in rigid poses: guns aimed or blades drawn back. There were other, larger figures that offered more movement in the arms and legs, as well as toy weapons, posters, board games. As she walked her bike through the displays, and as the eyes of the larger individual action figures in their transparent plastic packaging seemed to follow her down the aisle, Sunset's ears drooped, and her tail fell down to hang limply between her legs.

They all looked so happy. On the posters, on the lampshades in the home store, on the boxes for the toy weapons, on each and every single action figure — or doll, if you preferred — with a rigid smile painted on its face that somehow managed to reach the eyes all the same by some magic better known to artists than to unicorns. They all looked so happy. Even she, even Sunset Shimmer in a plastic bubble, with a plastic sword and a gun that didn't shoot and see-through plastic flames that could be stuck on her shoulders, even she looked happy.

Everyone was smiling.

And why not? This was their Vytal Tournament, their time, their chance to strut the stage. This was their happy time, and it had been taken away. Their happiness had been stolen. Sunset's happiness, it could be said, she had thrown away herself by her mistakes, but everyone else? Everyone else was the victim of a theft, as all of Vale was, a theft that had replaced the joy and celebration that should have been with chaos, madness, and the fear of death.

Sunset looked up and down the aisle of dolls, watching them as they seemed to watch her. Pyrrha, with a sash made of cloth; Jaune, who for some reason had been given short hair and a square jaw that made him look like Cardin, even though the picture of him at the bottom of the packaging was more or less accurate; Trixie, with a nylon hat and cape with reflective stars; Rainbow Dash, whose figure came with foldable wings; Penny, whose swords didn't connect to her body at all; they all smiled out at her from behind the plastic.

But now … Sunset couldn't help but wonder how many of them would be smiling come the morning, if they might not…

She quickened her pace, pushing the bike along faster. If this was the shortcut, then she wished that they had taken the longer route. She didn't want to stay here any longer. This plethora of merchandise … it mocked her, it wounded her, it callously reminded her of all that she had lost and of all that was precious and was now placed in jeopardy.

She was very happy when they were out of the toy store and making their way across the remainder of the shopping centre.

They reached an automatic door, which was locked but which was almost made of glass, meaning that Sunset could teleport herself, the bike, and Councillor Emerald onto the other side, onto an open-topped bridge between the shopping centre and a multi-story car park.

They walked across, Sunset turning her eyes towards the sky as she watched for any Valish airships that might be patrolling the air as their troops were patrolling the ground.

She saw none. No Bullheads bore down on them with guns blazing or deposited more troops — or worse, huntsmen, for why shouldn't any huntsmen in Vale have paid heed to the Siren's song? — to challenge and obstruct her. There was no sign of any Valish air presence, even at a distance.

Sunset pulled her helmet back on; the cool night breeze upon her face as they crossed the bridge had been welcome, but it was time to enclose herself within the vision-obstructing stuffiness of her helmet once again.

She could feel her ears, all four of them, starting to heat up almost immediately.

They entered the car park. It was empty, as far as Sunset could see in the darkness; she couldn't see a single car parked here, unless it was lurking in the very shadowy recesses out of her sight. They passed the ticket machines, sitting idle, their screens dim. Sunset turned her head towards the ramp heading upwards.

"Let's go that way, quickly," she said. "Let's see what we can see from a vantage point."

Apart from anything else, having turned aside with the Valish in pursuit, she wanted to check the route to the Valish headquarters.

Councillor Emerald did not object, and so, they walked Sunset's bike up to the top level of the carparker, higher than the upper level of the shopping centre next door, and all the way to the edge where they could look out on Vale.

It did not look like a dying city; that might seem like a low bar, but considering everything that was going on, the fact that they could stand there looking out and not see flames consuming whole districts or great explosions leaping up from every corner in immense fireballs, that seemed like, if not a victory, then something worth celebrating.

She could hear fighting going on, and the fact that whole areas of Vale were dark, the power cut off, was definitely less than ideal, but that could be fixed. Power could be restored. The fighting could end. The situation was far from unsalvageable.

For those who were left.

The sounds of the fighting, the sounds of the shooting, the blacked-out areas were reminders, in case anyone had forgotten, that not everyone would see the morn.

And while there were no immense explosions, there were some smaller ones, little flashes lighting up the night, tiny flowers of yellow blooming for a second and then vanishing again. Sunset wasn't sure what they were; artillery fire, maybe, or small missiles. It seemed too small to be airships crashing, even if there were any airships in the air to crash, which there were not. The skies were clear almost everywhere. When Sunset looked towards Beacon, or further south from there towards the outskirts of Vale, then she could see General Ironwood's Atlesian warships, but over Vale itself?

The large explosion that Sunset had been glad not to see erupted, a great ball of fire erupting into the darkness, rising towards the moon. It had come from the skydock. Had one of the great skyliners exploded? Because of who? What was going on down there?

The same thing going on all across Vale, as likely as not.

Looking away from the explosion and down from the empty sky, Sunset could see some more Valish patrols moving nearby, convoys about the same size as the one that they had run into a little while ago. One of them, which looked a little smaller, might even be the same convoy. They were not, thankfully, converging on Sunset's position, but rather, continuing to move slowly down the streets, no doubt doing as that first column had done and reminding people to stay indoors if they valued their lives.

And they were moving in such a way that Sunset could plot a course through them without running into anymore of them by accident or design.

It was important not to lose hope, not to let the small explosions, or even the big explosion on the skydock, get Sunset's spirits down too low. This wasn't … this wasn't like the description of the sack of Mistral, with the gods marshalling enemy forces everywhere to burn the city down, with desperation and death everywhere one turned one's eyes, with people being led off in chains to slavery; Vale was far from beyond salvation, provided that they could get to the Military Headquarters and set things right.

Sunset's eyes turned to said headquarters, the tall towers plainly visible.

Plainly visible, too, was the immense battleship, one of the two Mistralian battleships purchased by Vale, floating above the towers, hovering protectively over the headquarters.

"Is that going to cause you any trouble, Miss Shimmer?"

"I … think not, Councillor," Sunset murmured. "I mean, I daresay it would hurt a great deal if one of those big guns were to hit me, but I think that I'm a little too quick for them to take aim, especially on my bike."

Although, of course, there was the issue of the troops that she'd seen outside the headquarters, barricading the roads around it: the troops and tanks and roadblocks. If they could slow her down long enough…

They wouldn't fire those big guns downwards with their own troops so close, would they? It would be mad!

This whole thing is a little mad, isn't it, and the strings are pulled by a Siren; why should she care how many Valish soldiers die?

But can their guns even lower that far?

"I think," Sunset went on, "that that ship is there to deter airships rather than us; it's there in case General Ironwood decides to launch an air attack upon the headquarters."

"And will they?" Councillor Emerald asked. "Launch an aerial assault, I mean?"

"I hope not, because if they destroy that battleship, then the falling debris will crush the headquarters, and we'll never get in," Sunset muttered. "But you'd be better off asking my friend Rainbow Dash, or Twilight, or Blake; I don't know General Ironwood well enough to predict his intentions."

"So we must hope that General Ironwood shows some restraint?" asked Councillor Emerald. "I suppose he has been quite restrained so far, in spite of many provocations, some of them by me or Novo. Now, it seems, we will see how restrained he is when he is off the leash, as it were."

"My friends, at least, think very highly of him," Sunset said. "And so does Professor Ozpin. While I don't pretend to know his mind, I have faith in their good judgement, and out of that faith, I'm sure that, tonight, General Ironwood will prove himself worthy of that same good judgement."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Boarding Action

​

"God's grace, look at that," muttered Fitzjames.

Ironwood frowned slightly as he looked at the image on the viewscreen. The image of one of Vale's two Mistralian-made battleships — the one that Polemarch Yeoh had not intrigued to keep out of Valish hands — hovering directly over the Valish Military Headquarters; the warship was centred directly over the building's courtyard, though it was so large that it protruded out past it on either side to loom over the streets below. Its great guns in their dorsal and ventral turrets were turned outwards on either side, joining the bristling array of broadside-mounted cannons.

It looked a formidable sight, a floating fortress protecting the heart of the Valish military.
Looks could be deceptive, but…

This wasn't something we planned on. The plan — Schnee and Ebi's plan — to storm the headquarters had relied on the fact that the only obstacles to an aerial insertion were the anti-aircraft guns mounted on the towers. Those now seemed an almost quaint concern given the preponderance of firepower just above them.

Which wasn't to say that the Zhenyuan was invulnerable; far from it: it was slow, slower to manoeuvre, and the sheer size of its engine block combined with the placement of its guns meant that its rear was almost a blind spot. His ships might be smaller and less heavily armoured, but he'd still bet on any one of his cruisers in a one-on-one fight. The problem wasn't the ability to defeat the Zhenyuan; it was what would happen afterwards as the immense stricken battleship plunged down onto the headquarters underneath. At best, it would crush the building beneath its bulk, burying the Valish high command under tons of rubble and debris — and while that might seem like a job well done, there would then be no one to order the Valish forces to stand down, not to mention the possibility that there was another way out that the Atlesians weren't aware of — where Ironwood's strike force couldn't get to them. At worst, the ship would explode, either on the ground or in the air, and shower debris not just down on the headquarters beneath but on the city all around it, causing untold levels of devastation. Whole city blocks would be affected, if not destroyed completely.

And it wouldn't get them any closer to their goal of stopping the Valish madness.

All of which meant that a fight with the Zhenyuan was out. The Valish had parked their bus in front of the touchdown line, and there was little the Atlesians could do about it.

"Sir," des Voeux said. "Major Schnee on the line, requesting to speak with you."

"Put her through," Ironwood said. "Schnee."

"Sir, Captain Ebi is patched through from his airship," Schnee said. "We've got bad news."

"I think I'm looking at the bad news now, Major," Ironwood replied. "The Zhenyuan?"

"Yes, sir," Schnee replied.

"I'm afraid a naval engagement is out of the question," Ironwood said. "If we destroyed the ship, we'd also destroy the aboveground portion of the Valish Headquarters and lose access to the targets."

"Understood, sir," Schnee said, her tone of voice impeccable, professional, and utterly inscrutable.

"Ebi, do you think you can evade their fire and land as planned?" Ironwood asked.

"I lead a charmed life, sir, but running a gauntlet of that much firepower might be pushing even my luck," Ebi said. "And I wouldn't give much for Elm and Vine's chances in the other airship. Or Major Schnee, for that matter. Can we not convert the airstrike to take out their guns, the way we intended to take out the tower defences?"

"That's a lot of guns to take out," Schnee observed.

"And if you take out enough of them, then the ship might go down," Ironwood muttered. "Which is the one thing that we don't want." He paused. They couldn't destroy the Zhenyuan, they couldn't proceed with it still there…

Therefore, whatever remains, however difficult, is our course.

"Des Voeux," Ironwood said. "Get Defender Lead on this line."

"Aye aye, sir," des Voeux said.

Defender Wing was the grouping of First Squadron's three Skybolt bomber squadrons: Guardian, Champion, and Warden. Guardian and Champion had been deployed just past Beacon, with Warden held back for now to support Schnee's assault on the Valish headquarters. Major Salm was the wing commander, and Ironwood thought it best to go through him on this rather than going straight to the commander of Warden Squadron.

It took less than five seconds for Salm's gruff voice to shoot into the Valiant's bridge. "Sir. That bombing run is going to be a little more difficult than anticipated."

"The plan has changed, Salm," Ironwood informed him. "Warden Squadron will make a limited attack on the Valish battleship, opening up a breach in the hull, if possible close to the bow and above the centreline. Once a breach has been created, Schnee, your team will board the Zhenyuan, take the bridge, and compel the crew to steer the vessel away from the headquarters, at which point, Warden Squadron will take out the anti-aircraft guns, and Ebi, your unit will assault as planned. You'll have to do without the diversionary attack from outside the building."

"Understood, sir," Ebi said.

"If there's a pilot left in Warden Squadron, sir, it'll get done," said Salm, indicating that he wasn't sure that there would be once they were through with the battleship. Ironwood couldn't blame his hesitation on that front; it was a rough job he'd assigned to them, but it had to be done, and Ironwood didn't want to risk the excess damage that might be caused by tasking a cruiser.

"What if the Valish crew won't be compelled, sir?" asked Schnee.

"Then you'll have to learn how to fly a battleship quickly, Schnee," Ironwood said.

"Yes, sir," Schnee said, her voice continuing to display a near-complete lack of emotion. "Regardless of whether we can use the Valish crew or not, where do you want the ship steered to?"

"Out to sea," Ironwood said. "I'm afraid you may have to hold the bridge against an angry crew if Ebi can't compel the Valish surrender in time; if you think that you're about to lose the ship, cut the engines and ditch it in the water. Any other questions?"

A chorus of negatives rose from Schnee, Ebi, and Salm.

"Then get it done," Ironwood replied. "Good luck, all of you. Ironwood out."

XxXxX​

"Capturing a battleship, huh?" said Harriet Bree, her voice coming in over the comm from Clover's airship. "You'll be a real hero if you pull this one off, ma'am."

Winter snorted. "You're the one who's going to capture the Valish command staff and nip a new war in the bud."

"Yeah, but who cares about that?" asked Harriet. "Nobody remembers people who capture command posts, or even generals. They remember the general got captured, but not by who. But capturing a ship that size? With a handful of men? Now, that'll live forever."

"That'll do, Harriet," Clover said, affably but firmly all the same. "You think you can pull it off, ma'am?"

To hear Clover calling her ma'am felt strange, and not just because they were of the same actual rank — Winter's brevet had yet to turn into anything more substantial — but also because, of the two of them, Winter had expected him to make major first. Yes, she was in the privileged position of being close to General Ironwood, but Clover was the leader of the elite strike team, Clover was the man who could stand next to an exploding bomb and not get singed, Clover was the Vytal champion, Clover was the second coming of General Colton.

Clover was the man who made you feel inferior just by being in his presence.

So yes, it was very strange to hear him call her 'ma'am.' Now, she just had to prove herself worthy of it.

Worthy of her rank … and of her tarnished name.

Schnee pride did not sit so easily upon Winter as it did on Weiss. The august dignity of their family name was a bolero which suited her younger sister well, while on Winter's shoulders, it sat somewhat uneasily. Part of that was the mere fact of her being a soldier in the Atlesian military, a fact which was sufficient to render her an outcast as far as her father was concerned. Her decision to attend Atlas had prompted a blazing row between her and her father which had ended with Winter leaving home with a single suitcase and tears streaming down on her face; she'd stayed at a hotel, and then, after her father cut her off, General Ironwood had been good enough to let her start her stay at the academy early.

She still had the Schnee name, but having been stripped of the Schnee money, had the Schnee inheritance taken away from her and being denied any sort of backing from the Schnee patriarch, she had not had the opportunity or the will to conduct herself as 'a Schnee,' a superior being separate from the common run of mortal men. Those few toadies who had thought to cosy up to her on the basis of her name — 'Please, take my seat, Miss Schnee.' 'May I help you with anything, Miss Schnee?' — had soon learned there was no profit in it and left her alone, for which Winter was very thankful. She was a Schnee in name only.

Yet it was still her name. Her name, passed down to her from her illustrious grandfather, who might not have approved of her being a soldier — Mother had said that he would not, had claimed that Nicholas had seen too well what too much soldiering had done to his own father to wish it on his descendants, before she stalked out of the room to drown her sorrows — but would surely have respected that it was her decision to make for herself, not her father's. Her grandfather who, at the very least, would, she hoped, have respected her wish to do something for Atlas.

It was still her name, and her name was … not what it had once been.

The scandal had not touched Winter as it might have; one of the advantages of the fact that nobody really considered you a real Schnee was that the mud currently staining the Schnee name did not stick to her as it did to her father or, unfortunately, to Weiss. Nobody whispered about her in the mess, nobody accused her of collusion or complicity, she was … she was not a Schnee; she was an officer who just happened to be called Schnee as though it were a wholly unremarkable name, and to hold her to account for the actions of the Schnee family would seem as absurd as branding everyone with the same name as a serial killer as accomplices in the crime.

That advantage might mean that she could not restore the Schnee name for the same reason that its fall could not damage her: nobody would make the connection. Perhaps Harriet was right, and Winter would be acclaimed for her action tonight in taking the battleship, and none of it would resound to the credit of the Schnee name because the Schnee name did not belong to her in any part; she was not connected with it in the public mind. Perhaps Weiss, alone, could restore the Schnee name to its former glory, because Weiss was the only one capable of such who was still considered a Schnee. Perhaps what Winter did tonight would burnish up only her own personal glory and the glory of the Atlesian military.

Or perhaps not. Perhaps, after tonight, people might remember that she was not just named Schnee but a Schnee and think a little better of the name in consequence.

It was not something that Winter gave much thought to, as a rule, it was not one of her dearly cherished ambitions, but with her grandfather's name having sunk as it had, if she could lift it, then … perhaps it would make the old man smile, the way he used to smile when she was young.

And if not, at least she could tell herself that she'd done something important.

"If I don't do this," she said, "then we don't stop the Valish, and a war breaks out. So, yes, I'll get it done. Failure isn't an option. Major Salm, once your Skybolts have opened up a breach in the hull, I'll move in. I'll try and signal you once we've taken the Zhenyuan, but communications might not be possible; start your run on the towers once you see the ship begin to move away. Then Captain Ebi and his team can start their attack."

"Understood, Major Schnee," Salm replied. "Preparing to attack now."

XxXxX​

The Atlesian AB-10 Skybolt was a simple design; Thunderlane had always thought that if you were to give a kid a pile of junk and ask them to build you an airship, then you would get something a lot like a Skybolt: a cardboard tube or plastic bottle for the body, straight, flat wings made of card or plastic or anything flat or rectangular, and two more cardboard tubes on either side of the fuselage — stuck on the wings, with the wings projecting out past them, but a kid would probably stick them underneath the wings because it was easier — for the engines. A kid might even draw snarling fangs or razor tusks — or fangs and tusks — on the nose, the way that Skybolts had them painted on. It was the kind of airship that his own little brother, Rumble, would have come up with. Legend had it that was how the Skybolt had been designed, by the young son of a harassed naval architect. Thunderlane didn't know if it was true or not, but he'd like to believe it.

About the only thing about the Skybolt that a kid wouldn't have come up with — and they would have come up with the massive gun slung underneath the nose, for sure, and the missiles underneath the wings — was the fact that the Skybolt was a two-seater. In this particular airship — Warden Seven — Thunderlane was the pilot, sitting up front, facing forwards, while Cloudchaser was his gunner, sitting in a turret just behind the cockpit, manning the twin twenty-millimetre autocannons to protect their tail.

She could fire forwards if necessary, but the tail was the real danger and the real reason for having a gunner in the first place.

"Okay, Wardens, form up, line abreast, two ranks by pairs," Major Salm's voice galloped into Thunderlane's ears through his helmet. "We are going to attack that Valish battleship."

"Did he just say 'battleship'?" Cloudchaser asked, turning around in her turret so that she could look momentarily forwards. "As in that battleship?"

"It's not like the sky is full of battleships," Thunderlane replied as he nosed their Skybolt forwards into line. As one of the lead airships, he was in the front rank, with Warden Eight — pilot was Flitter, gunner was her twin brother Flutter — tucking in behind his starboard wing.

The sky wasn't full of battleships, but in the direction in which they formed up — with Major Salm in his distinctive white Skybolt hovering in front of them — there was one very big battleship right there, in the sky, floating over what they'd been told was their original objective, the Valish HQ.

Because the Valish had decided to start something. Tonight of all nights — not that it wouldn't have been ridiculous any other night, picking a fight with Atlas as though Atlas hadn't been here all year to help them out, as if this was going to be anything but a one-sided beatdown — when they ought to have been celebrating, when they ought to have been having a good time, when Thunderlane and Cloudchaser ought to be down in that cosy hole in the wall place they'd found in Shepherd's Bush — gotta love these Valish place names — with the ice-cold beer and the handmade curry, commiserating over Atlas' defeat. Tonight, when they had been lucky enough to win the squadron draw to get liberty, the Valish had decided to start something.

That they'd decided to pick a fight with anyone was bad enough; that they'd decided to pick it with Atlas was even worse.

Don't we have enough enemies outside the walls?

Apparently not for the Valish; they just want to fight everyone.

Well, if that was what they wanted, then Atlas was … going to be kinda restrained about it all, actually; instead of just bombing everything they could reach, they were going to go after the generals who had decided to cause all this trouble for everyone else and leave the regular folks alone. Except the Valish generals must have seen that coming, hence the battleship hovering over their headquarters.

Even at this distance, Thunderlane could see why this might make it hard for the Skyrays to land with the assault team.

That ship had a lot of guns.

"Sir," said Warden Lead, "I'm not sure we have the firepower to take that thing, even if we hit it with a full volley—"

"We're not trying to take it out, Lead," Salm informed her. "Our objective is to punch a single hole in that monster's hull through which a team of Specialists will board and take the ship."

"Board it?" Thunderlane asked. "You mean … like pirates?"

"Yaaar!" Flitter cried.

A ripple of laughter ran through the squadron, all of it emerging into Thunderlane's ears.

"Honestly, Seven? Yes, it is a little like pirates," Salm replied. "Or old-fashioned navy men, if that makes it seem more serious to you. The bottom line is, we can't destroy the ship where it is because that will destroy the target beneath, which we don't want, so we need to capture it and move it out of the way." He paused for a second. "So that's our job, to make a door for the Specialists. If you can, aim for the upper half, closer to the bow than the stern, but anything is better than nothing at all; the important thing is to breach its armour. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir!" the pilots chorused.

"I won't pretend that this will be a cakewalk," Salm said. "You can all see how many guns that ship has. It can put out heavy fire. But that fire will not be accurate, those guns are old and slow, and the fire control probably isn't anything to write home about. So remember your training, don't fly straight and level in the combat area, and pay attention to where their shells are bursting."

Salm's Skybolt inched forwards, toward the battleship and away from Warden Squadron.

"If we do this," he said, "today will be a strange blip in history that no one can explain. If we fail, then tonight could be the start of a war between Vale and Atlas. Warden Squadron, in line by pairs, half speed, advance!"

"In line, half speed?" Cloudchaser said. "What is this, a cavalry charge or something?"

"I'm sure we're going to speed up when we get closer to the target," Thunderlane replied as he throttled the Skybolt to half speed. It wasn't fast — even full speed on a Skybolt wasn't the fastest; it was an airship built for power and survivability, not speed or agility — but it was enough to get them moving.

Warden Squadron advanced in a perfect line that would have made the flight sergeant instructor back in Atlas weep with pride, every airship keeping perfectly aligned with the airship on its wing, each airship keeping in formation with the one behind or ahead.

Thunderlane switched over to the wing-pair channel. "Hey, Flitter, Flutter, how do you feel about this?"

"Well, we're in the toughest airship in the Atlesian fleet, so I like our chances," Flitter replied. "I mean, they say you can lose both wings and one engine in one of these and still fly back to Atlas, right?"

"I heard it was two wings and both engines," Flutter chimed in.

"Two wings and an engine on fire," said Cloudchaser.

"Sounds like we don't even need to bother trying to evade," Thunderlane said. "We can take a couple of hits from those guns, no big deal."

"Well, let's not put the survivability of the Skybolt to the test unless we have to, huh?" asked Cloudchaser. "I mean you might as well try not to get hit."

There was a moment of silence between the four of them. The battleship grew closer, but it didn't fire. Either they were still out of range, or like Major Salm had said, the targeting was garbage and they were holding their fire until the Skybolts got a little closer.

Thunderlane looked at the target. Up top, near the bow, ideally. There were no obvious weak spots that he could see. It looked pretty heavily armoured all over. It was probably like the Skybolt: not fast, not nimble, built to survive, not to move.

So parking it above somewhere important was kind of ideal.

Still, it was old.

Mind, the Skybolt was no spring chicken either — it had been in service for about twenty, thirty years — it was just that nothing better had ever come along to replace it. Now, sure, Skydart pilots gave you all kinds of crap about flying a museum piece and how your airship should be relegated to giving joy rides at the county fair with all the other old relics, but screw them; this thing was still around because nothing better had come along yet.

Their target, on the other hand, was just old because it was old, because the Valish wanted to buy something from the Mistralians, and so, the Mistralians had dragged whatever old garbage they had out of the mothballs and sold it to the Valish.

At least, that was how Thunderlane understood it; that was how the scuttlebutt indicated it had gone down.

There was no comparison between his airship and that battleship, as Warden Squadron were about to make very clear.

There weren't many guns on top, he noticed; yes, there were the big turrets — but those guns would have the hardest time aiming at a small airship like a Skybolt — but beneath the big gun turrets, on the side, there was a line running across the flank where there were no guns, before the broadside battery started further down. That was his target. That was where he was going to put his missile.

A shot erupted from the Zhenyuan, from a gun amidships, flying through the night air to burst just off Major Salm's white Skybolt.

There was a moment of pause.

Then the side of the Zhenyuan was consumed with fire.

"Wardens, break by pairs!" Salm ordered. "All airships to maximum speed, attack at will!"

"Stay on me, Flitter," Thunderlane muttered as he throttled up to top speed, his Skybolt surging forward through the sky. "Cloudchaser, Flutter, see if you can hit some of these shells before they hit us."

"Small targets, but I'll give it a try," Cloudchaser muttered, and her autocannons cast a shadow over Thunderlane as she turned her turret to face front.

The Zhenyuan wasn't firing every single gun it had at once; rather, it was staggering its fire, cycling it, so that despite what might be the ponderous reload times of some of those guns, especially the big ones, there were always some guns firing, always some shells being pumped out at the approaching Skybolts.

The night air was as bright as day from the bursting of the shells in air, explosions everywhere, winking in and out. The muzzles of the autocannons flared as Cloudchaser fired in controlled bursts; Thunderlane couldn't tell if she was hitting anything.

"Three is down! Repeat, Three is down!"

"Six is hit!"

"I'm okay, I can keep going."

Thunderlane gripped the stick with both hands, diving downwards as the shells burst above. Yeah, they were supposed to be aiming for a point above, but that was where the fire seemed thickest.

He dived, rolling a little as he dived, the nose of his Skybolt pointing towards the streets of Vale below.

The streets that were rising to meet them at speed.

"Thunderlane, what are you doing?" Cloudchaser asked.

"Thunderlane, you need to pull up," Flitter told him.

"Seven, what are you doing?" Salm demanded.

"I've got an idea, sir, trust me," Thunderlane said.

The streets of Vale, the tall skyscrapers of glass and steel, they were all coming up towards him, and coming up fast too for all that the Skybolt was not a fast airship; if it had been, he would have hit the deck by now. The streets were rising, but the shells weren't falling; the Valish weren't shooting at him, either because they weren't so mad as to fire on their own city or because he was too low for their guns to target or simply because the rest of Warden Squadron was keeping them too busy, but they weren't shooting at him. The shell bursts were all up above, where the rest of the squadron was dancing through the air, trying to penetrate an increasingly dense hedge of fire.

"We lost Twelve!"

"Major, that fire is too thick; it's intercepting our missiles."

Thunderlane pulled up, yanking the stick back hard. The Skybolt jerked, bucking in the air like a wild horse as it rose, shakingly for a second, then more smoothly as it soared upwards like an arrow.

An arrow aimed straight at the Zhenyuan.

Thunderlane was pointing his Skybolt straight towards the bottom of the battleship. Their guns still weren't shooting at him; he was certain it was because he was in their blindspot.

If he'd wanted to, he could have blown a hole right in the bottom of the hull, but he had something else in mind.

"Flitter, you might want to break off for this."

"Are you kidding? I'm not bailing on you now," Flitter said. "I want to see how this ends, even if it ends with you going splat."

Thunderlane laughed. "Okay then, hold on."

He pushed the stick forwards, moments before he would have slammed into the hull of the Zhenyuan. Instead, he buzzed it, the top of Cloudchaser's turret almost scraping the hull as he passed between the immense gun turrets.

The anti-air guns on the headquarters towers began to fire. Thunderlane saw the shots coming, tracer rounds lighting up the night; he heard — he felt — the shots striking home, slamming into the fuselage. He put his trust in the famed survivability of the Skybolt because there was really nothing else for it right now; stuck to the bottom of the battleship like he was, it wasn't as though he had any chance to evade.

He pulled up, rising on the far side of the Zhenyuan, the starboard side, the side where there were no guns firing and the crew didn't have time or attention to aim and fire at him as he rose past their turrets and casemates and over the big Valish battleship.

Thunderlane rolled in the air, turning his nose down once more.

He took aim, the reticle on his HUD fixed on the Zhenyuan.

"Warden Seven, missiles away," he muttered as he tapped the control on the side of the stick twice.

Two missiles streaked down from beneath his wings, descending on the Zhenyuan from above to explode on the hull beneath the great gun turrets.

Thunderlane pulled up. "Flitter, Eight, can you confirm damage?"

There was a pause. "Damage confirmed!" Flitter cried. "Confirm hull is breached, hull is breached!" She whooped. "Way to go, Thunderlane!"

"All Wardens, fall back!" Salm commanded. "Congratulations, Seven. Now let the Specialists take it from here."

XxXxX​

Winter put a hand on the back of the pilot's chair as she leaned forwards; her face was almost level with the pilot's own. "We have an entry point," she said. "Take us in."

"Aye aye, ma'am," the pilot said. She paused for a second before she added, "You might want to hold onto something; this could get a little rough."

Winter nodded and stepped back, retreating out of the cockpit and into the main compartment of the Skyray.

"Warden Squadron has opened up a door for us," she informed her team. "Now it's up to us to walk through it — and deal with whatever we find on the other side."

Kermes whooped. "Go Team Warlock! We ride again!"

The corner of Winter's lip turned upwards in a smile. When General Ironwood had given her the choice of a Specialist team for what had, at that point, been envisaged as a diversionary attack on the outside of the Valish HQ, there had only been one team that she wanted: Aurelius Cornwall, Lavender Danceflower, and Kermes Mules. They had been her team when she had been at Atlas Academy: Team WALK, pronounced 'Warlock.'

Aurelius Cornwall had a prosthetic leg — he always had, even when he'd been a first-year student, even when they had met up during Initiation — unlike many with a prosthetic, he hadn't lost the leg anywhere; he'd just been born without. He was a pretty average-looking young man, handsome in an unremarkable way — much like Weiss' partner, Flash Sentry — with dark hair cut short in a martial style, a firm jaw, high cheekbones. He wore a red jacket instead of the more usual Atlesian white, with gold facings, although he did have a white waistcoat on beneath and white crossbelts across his chest. His trousers were a tin grey, and there was more gold lining his high boots. He wore a sword — an infantry sabre, with a slender blade — at his hip, and across his knees rested a semi-automatic rifle with a fixed bayonet.

Lavender Danceflower was a tall young woman, almost as tall as Winter herself, with bright yellow hair dyed blue and pink at the tips which hung above her shoulders. She wore a green dress underneath a white jacket, with a skirt that didn't quite reach her knees, and more blue and pink dancing around the hem in a pattern that looked like both leaves and hearts at the same time. Her stockings, which covered her legs up to and beyond the hem of the skirt, were as yellow as her hair, and her boots were a yellow-brown colour that put Winter in mind of wax. She had a staff, with a large yellow lightning dust crystal set at its tip and various pouches on the brown belt that clinched her waist.

Kermes Mules had been Winter's partner; when they'd been at the Academy together, she had frequently complained of her poverty, but she seemed to be doing well enough at least to have replaced her shoes. She'd owned a truly tatty pair of red boots that had been falling apart by their fourth year at Atlas, but Kermes would not get rid of them; she'd said that she couldn't get rid of them. But they were gone now, replaced by a brand new pair of bright red boots, so new that there was still a shine on the leather and not a scuff or crumple to be seen. She wore no jacket, only a white blouse which — like the string of white pearls around her neck, another sign of her greater prosperity if they were real — contrasted with the darkness of her complexion, and left her arms bare down to the white bandages wound around her hand and wrists up towards the elbow. Kermes preferred to fight with fists and feet than with weapons — so those boots probably wouldn't be staying so immaculate for very long — but she did have a pair of revolvers shoved into the black belt at her waist.

"Yes, Kermes, we ride again," Winter said. "Or should that be 'dance again'?"

Kermes laughed. "Well, we're certainly gonna get on down on that Valish ship, right? And maybe when we're done, Lav can get on the piano like in the old days, and Aurelius can refuse to dance, just like in the old days."

"It was more fun watching you two dance," Aurelius said.

"I can't decide whether that sounds sad or creepy," said Lavender. "But I tell you what, if we make it through this mission, I'll play the piano for you all night and the next day."

"You don't think we're going to make it?" asked Kermes, sounding disappointed.

"It's the four of us against an entire battleship," Lavender pointed out. "It's … a little nuts, right?"

"So was me finding out I had a rich aunt who'd left me all her money," Kermes said. "But that happened."

Lavender's eyebrows rose. "I don't think that's in quite the same league."

"Maybe not, but we're going to do it all the same," Winter declared. "General Ironwood is counting on us. Counting on me. General Ironwood is counting me, and I am counting on all of you to help me not let him down."

Kermes grinned. "Well, when you put it like that, Winnie, how can we fail? We wouldn't want to let you down in front of the General, would we? Although I think we should get some medals for our gallantry when all this is over."

"That will depend on what my report has to say about your gallantry," Winter replied.

Kermes and Aurelius were sitting on one side of the Skyray, Lavender alone on the other. Winter sat down next to Lavender and strapped herself into the bench on which they sat. And just as well, too, because the airship began to move violently, erratically, jerking from side to side, diving and then pulling up again, as outside the ship, they could hear the explosions from the shells bursting around them.

"I apologise that this isn't the mission you were selected for," Winter said, raising her voice to be heard over the shellfire without shouting. "But this is of vital importance, much moreso than a diversionary assault would have been. We need to get this ship out of the way before Clover's team can move in."

She and Lavender both flinched as a shell fragment tore through the side of the Skyray just beside, ripping through the door and flying through the intervening space to fly out of the other door as well — Kermes and Aurelius flinched too when that happened.

Moments later, the whole Skyray jerked, and red warning klaxons began to sound in the cockpit.

"We took a hit to one engine," the pilot called to them. "But don't worry, I'll land you there in one piece."

"Understood," Winter said. "This is why we need to move that ship. The good news is that we don't have to clear the whole ship of Valish sailors; we only need to secure the bridge and fly the ship from there."

"Do we know where to find the bridge?" asked Aurelius.

"The Zhenyuan has a very traditional design," Winter informed him. "The bridge is at the top of the ship, close to the bow. That's why Warden Squadron was instructed to focus their efforts there, to give us the least amount of distance to our objective."

"What kind of opposition can we expect?" asked Aurelius.

"Unknown," Winter answered. "We don't know how well the Valish have manned the ship—"

"Those aren't robots manning all those guns, right?" Kermes said. "I mean, a ship that old, the guns must be manual; they aren't firing those weapons from the bridge."

"A good thing, they're too far away to get in our way," Lavender said. "But just because the guns are being manned doesn't mean they have a lot of ship security. That they managed to find enough sailors for the guns doesn't mean that they found enough marines to secure it as well. I don't expect heavy opposition."

"You should always expect heavy opposition," Aurelius said. "That way—"

"You're never disappointed," chorused Lavender, Kermes — and Winter, too.

"It's like I've never been away," Winter murmured.

"You know it, Winnie!" Kermes cried. "And hey, if the Valish blow us out of the sky or overwhelm us with sheer numbers, I want you guys to know I'm glad that we get to do this together, as a team." She smiled. "I've missed this."

Nobody replied to that, but Lavender smiled, and Winter … well, it did feel a lot like being back at school again. In a good way.

"Ten seconds out from the objective!" called the pilot. "You'd better be prepared for a quick exit."

Winter reached with one hand for the buckle on her restraint but didn't unclasp it, not yet. She began to count: one, two, three — the airship was still shaking, still bucking in the air, dancing through the fire aimed towards it — four, five, now, Winter unfastened herself and stood up.

The rest of her team did likewise.

They all reached for the safety straps that hung from the ceiling.

Winter conjured a quartet of black glyphs beneath their feet to keep them from slipping and sliding across the airship, slamming into the walls.

The Skyray turned sharply, then stopped moving. The door on the right-hand side of the airship opened, letting in a lot of smoke from the burning engine outside, but revealing through the smoke the hole that Warden Seven had blown in the hull of the Zhenyuan.

It was a large tear, almost as large as the Skyray, a jagged rent in the green armour plating, a window torn open to show the wooden interior of the warship within.

There was a distance between the two airships, but nothing of any concern to them.

"Let's go!" Winter shouted, her glyphs dissolving as she was the first to leap across the chasm of empty air that separated them. She landed heavily upon the wood floor with a thump, then scrambled out of the way of the others. Kermes was the first to follow, her new red boots squeaking a little on the floor, then Aurelius landed with a heavy thud, then Lavender last of all, landing so lightly that she seemed to make no sound at all.

Winter drew her sabre from her waist, and then, from the hilt of the sabre, she drew her dagger, holding it in her off hand. Kermes drew both pistols, Aurelius held his rifle to his shoulder, and Lavender gripped her staff in both hands.

Their Skyray began to turn, presenting its back to them as it flew away. The airship was illuminated by the fires of the shells bursting around it as it headed back the way it had come, towards the safety of—

The Skyray burst into flame as a direct hit from the Valish ship tore the fragile hull apart. It was only burning fragments that fell down to the city below.

"Damn," Kermes muttered. "They got us in, and then they … damn it!"

"They did what they had to do," Aurelius said. "They gave us a chance."

"I know," Kermes said. "But still…"

"Let's move," Winter said, gesturing with her sabre towards the bow of the ship. "The bridge should be in this direction."

"They know about the Skyray," Lavender said. "They probably know we're here."

"Then let's not give them time to come to us," Winter declared.

She led the way, her black boots squeaking softly on the wooden floor — wooden floor! On an airship! — as she walked down corridors that, aside from being made of wood, were as bare and austere as anything on an Atlesian cruiser. But an Atlesian cruiser would have been brighter, with overhead lights reflected off the pristine white surfaces of the walls and floor, whereas this corridor was oppressive and dark, with only fire dust crystals set in sconces on the walls to offer any illumination at all. The shadows were heavy and seemed to surround them as they moved.

The corridors were tight, and the walls were flat and offered no cover whatsoever. They might almost have been designed to catch intruders in a confined space where they could be gunned down.

And it might have worked for the squad of Valish troops who appeared at the end of the corridor, had they been facing enemies other than huntsmen, and Atlesian Specialists at that.

The Valish troops — they might be Royal Marines, but Winter couldn't say for sure — were first visible by their shadows, but the men and women themselves appeared almost immediately after, some kneeling, others standing, all of them bending around the corners on either side to send a flurry of fire from their rifles hurling down the corridor.

Winter twirled her dagger and her sword in front of her, deflecting some of the bullets, feeling others strike her and rip pieces off her aura.

"Summon cover!" Winter shouted as she dropped to one knee, jamming the tip of her sabre into the wooden floor.

She could hear Aurelius and Kermes both firing over her head as Winter conjured a blue white glyph around her planted sword.

She summoned a murder of tiny nevermores, larval grimm, each one no larger than a pigeon: dangerous alone to an untrained civilian; in a group, capable of tearing aura to shreds if they weren't interrupted. She had killed these particular nevermores in Initiation, when she and Kermes had stumbled into their nest. They were not her strongest summon, but against many enemies like this —even if some of their enemies were down already, taken out by well-placed shots — they were invaluable.

The murder of nevermores swirled around her for a moment, swarming her, just as they had done when she first blundered into them, except that they didn't attack. They were saving that for her enemies.

Winter drew her sword from out of the floor and brandished it at the Valish soldiers.

The little nevermores flew towards them, spectral white wings beating violently.

For a moment, they consumed the corridor mouth; Winter couldn't see anything but the white of the nevermores that she had summoned.

Then they split into two groups, and the shooting stopped, and the screaming began.

The team advanced rapidly, emerging out of the corridor to find all the Valish troops dead; those that hadn't been shot looked as though they had pecked to death by a hundred angry beaks or torn up by small but razor-sharp talons.

Winter's summoned nevermores hovered over them, some of the spectres dropping down to harass the bodies.

"I'd forgotten how vicious they were," Kermes observed.

Winter let the summoned creatures fade into nothingness; with no more immediate enemies, there was no point in letting the summoning consume more of her aura than necessary. She looked left and right, wondering which path to take. She decided to go right, although she would admit that she had no grounds for it beyond a vague instinct.

Turning right, and then taking the next right as the corridor turned, brought her team to an elevator shaft, a gaping black hole that led only downwards — the ceiling of the shaft was visible, with no option to go upwards.

The bridge was at the top and the bow, but did that mean the very top of the ship or might it be down just a little?

"This … we'll go back the way we came," Winter said. "If the left turning leads to another shaft like this, then the bridge must be down; if not, we'll keep going until we can't go any further, and only then can we be sure the bridge wasn't on this level."

Kermes nodded. Neither Lavender nor Aurelius said anything about her having gone the wrong way; they didn't hold it against her that her instinct had been wrong this once.

Schematics would have been good, but the layout of a pair of Mistralian museum pieces had not been something that had interested Atlesian intelligence, for obvious reasons.

They were lucky to have a vague idea of where the bridge was.

They retraced their steps, passing over the dead bodies of the Valish troops, taking the path that led to the left, rounding a corner, and another. They kept moving quickly, their footsteps echoing on the dark wood.

Winter stopped as she heard footsteps approaching. Metal footsteps, by the sound of it, and moving quickly too, a swift pitter-patter of clattering feet drawing closer to their position.

"Get ready," she hissed, dropping to her knees to give Kermes and Aurelius the opportunity to fire over her. She didn't start to summon anything, but she held her sword ready to summon, if need be.

The metallic footsteps drew closer. A metallic … metallic dog seemed like the best word for it, although there wasn't much that was doglike about it beyond the fact that it was a little small and walked on four legs. But it had no head, just a black oblong body and those little stubby legs, and some loose exposed wires connecting them.

There was a hissing sound from somewhere, and Winter flinched as something hit her. It was armed? Where? She couldn't see a weapon.

But something hit her again as more of the robots rounded the corner, advancing more slowly now down the corridor, a mass like hunting hounds, like the hounds that Mother sometimes took out with her when she wasn't so concerned with whether she brought her trophy back alive or not.

Kermes and Aurelius both opened fire, but the robots seemed to be made of sturdy stuff, and their bullets simply ricocheted off the black bodies without appearing to do any visible damage.

The robots kept advancing.

"Let me!" Lavender declared as she leapt over Winter's head, her staff twirling in her hands before she slammed it, butt down, into the wooden floor.

Lightning burst out from the crystal at the tip of the staff, striking the walls, flaying the floor, hitting the robots as they advanced. Yellow lightning struck each and every one of them, leaping from robot to robot, returning for a second strike, cascading back and forth up the swarm of robots that had stopped advancing and only jerked, and shuddered, and then collapsed onto the ground in a gently twitching heap.

The lightning ceased as Lavender spun her staff in one hand. "Gets them every time."

"Awesome work," Kermes said. "But since when do the Valish use robots?"

"Maybe they're MARS robots and came with the ship?" suggested Aurelius.

"They don't have MARS written on them," Lavender observed, kneeling down to get a better look at one. "Although there is this gold star here."

"It doesn't matter where they came from," Winter declared. "They've been dealt with, that's all. Let's keep going."

She took the fact that they were meeting additional layers of security as a sign that they were moving in the right direction, and her suspicions — her optimism — were confirmed as the corridor straightened out, all corners disappearing and presenting a straight shot towards a sealed door. Unlike the floor or the walls, this door was made of metal, presumably because even the Mistralians realised that a wooden door wasn't very secure.

There wasn't any obvious handle or button or way to open the door, but there was a guard standing before it: a single woman, tall and muscular, with high cheekbones and sunken cheeks, wearing a black tanktop and camouflage trousers, with martial boots upon her feet. Her hair was black and shaved on the back and sides, leaving only a thick but modest Mohawk on top of her head, like a strip of grass left untouched by the mower that had cut everything else.

Her arms were toned and corded with muscle, and she had a chainsaw in one hand.

In the other, she had a baton that glowed red; it was probably loaded with fire dust.

"Four of you, huh?" she purred. "My, isn't this gonna be fun?"

"One of you?" Kermes asked. "You're no Valish soldier; you're a huntress."

She flashed her teeth. They were pearly white. "Guilty as charged, honey."

"So what are you doing joining in with this crap?" Kermes demanded. "Isn't this just Valish military insanity?"

"This isn't about any kind of insanity," the huntress declared. "This is about Vale, and it's about you and how you keep taking from us and taking from us and grinding our faces into the mud with your—"

"I'm sorry I asked now," Kermes muttered. "Yeah, yeah, I'm sure you're very upset, but can we skip all the blah blah blah and get to the part where I kick your ass?" She looked at Winter. "With your permission, Major."

Winter gestured to their huntress opponent. "Be my guest."

The huntress scowled. She revved her chainsaw. "There's no way you're getting past me in one piece."

"Hey, we may look young and beautiful, but we're not some team of students the General picked out for our potential," Kermes said. She started to dance on the balls of her feet, her red boots moving almost as if they were independent of the rest of her, tapping on the wooden floor as Kermes darted from side to side, fists raised. "We're officers, so don't get cocky."

"Ooh, officers," the huntress said. "I suppose you're those Atlesian Specialists they make so much fuss about. Well, I've wanted to try my luck against one of—"

Kermes moved before she could finish. Her feet were a blur, Kermes feet were always a blur; it wasn't just that she was fast, it was that her feet seemed to take three steps where one would do and do it faster than most people would with only a single step. The squeaking of her boots was gone, replaced by a tapping sound like tap dancing, like a chorus of tap dancers as Kermes closed the distance to her opponent.

Her feet were a blur, but they became visible as she landed a roundhouse kick into the side of the Valish huntress.

The huntress gasped and swung her fire dust baton. Kermes ducked, letting the baton pass over her before she danced behind the huntress and kicked her again, knocking her forwards. She followed up with a series of punches all into her back, continuously forcing the huntress to stagger onwards.

The huntress managed to turn, to swing her chainsaw, but it was a ponderous swing, and Kermes retreated quickly from it, let it pass, and then counterattacked. She threw punches at the huntress' stomach, then darted around her to land two kicks, one to the ribs, one to the hip.

Another kick cut her legs out from under her and dumped her down on the wooden floor. Her chainsaw fell from her hands. Kermes picked it up before she could recover it, and a manic light entered her eyes as she brought the growling weapon down upon its former owner.

The huntress squirmed and wriggled on the floor — Kermes planted one red boot upon her hand — before her aura broke, a grey ripple running up and down her body.

Kermes kicked the huntress in the head, snapping it sideways and leaving her lying motionless on the deck. She dusted off her hands.

"I'd say your luck wasn't very good," she observed.

Lavender groaned.

"Come on, she asked for that one," Kermes insisted.

"Good work," Winter said. "Still got it, I see."

"You know it," Kermes said. "I can try and punch through this door for you, if you like? Think the bridge is on the other side?"

"I'm certain of it," Winter said. "But I have another idea for that. Aurelius, when the door is broken, I want you to take point, take out any guards on the bridge itself. Make sure you have a full magazine."

Aurelius nodded, and reloaded his rifle, slamming a fresh mag into place and chambering a round.

He raised the rifle to his shoulder, although there was nothing to take aim at.

Winter herself brandished her dagger at the sealed door. It was hard to see, but there was a little light blue hardlight dust in the pommel; although not nearly as obvious or as large an amount as Weiss carried in her sword, nevertheless, it was enough for the large laser glyph that she conjured up behind her.

A single glyph, firing a single concentrated beam that blew a hole clean through the armoured door.

Aurelius was moving before the beam had even faded, leaping through the breach and landing nimbly on the other side. His rifle barked again and again as he switched from target to target, turning his attention from one side of the room to the other.

By the time that Winter and the others followed him in, six bodies of soldiers or marines with rifles lay on the ground, and Aurelius was training his rifle on everyone who remained.

The bridge was a semicircle, with no viewscreens but a large window looking out on the night sky and the city beyond. The semicircle was ringed with consoles, at which Valish sailors in light green stood, although they were all looking in shock at Aurelius, and then at his comrades. No one was sitting down except the captain, a middle-aged man with a white beard, who sat in the centre of the room.

Another man, younger but also bearded, stood beside him. Winter guessed he was the second in command.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Winter said. "My name is Major Winter Schnee of the Atlesian forces, and this ship is ours."

"It is not!" the captain declared, rising from his seat. "This is a ship of the Valish Royal Navy, and we will never—"

He stopped, because Kermes had just shot him.

She kept her pistol out, running it around the bridge. "Does anybody else feel like being a hero? Does anyone else want to get up on their hind legs and make a speech?"

"Kermes," Winter murmured disapprovingly.

"I'm sorry, Win, but we don't have time for this crap," Kermes spat. "Listen up, folks, my friend here comes from a good family, and she excelled in all her classes, even etiquette. But I'm not from a good family, and I flunked etiquette class, so I'm going to give it to you straight: either you steer this ship where we tell you, or you can join your captain and your guards; speaking of which, kick those rifles this way out of temptation, all of them, come on. Now!"

The crew kicked the rifles across the wooden floor in their direction.

The presumable first officer tugged on his tunic. "What … what is your heading, Major Schnee?"

 

[ScipioSmith]

Dark Corridors

​

The Valish battleship began to move away.

As Sunset and Councillor Emerald raced towards the headquarters, they could see the tops of the towers despite all the buildings between them, and Sunset could see the battleship too, the battleship that was moving away from its position directly above the Military Headquarters and towards … it seemed to be moving inwards, over Vale.

"What are they doing?" Councillor Emerald shouted to be heard over the roar of the motorcycle engine.

"I don't know!" Sunset shouted back. For a moment, she was worried that the Siren might have just decided to destroy as much of Vale as she could and had sent the ship to accomplish that goal, but it wasn't firing on the city below. As it moved off, exposing the Military Headquarters, the battleship continued to fire on the Atlesian airships, bringing all the guns to bear on them that it could, although some guns were falling silent simply because — as far as Sunset could tell from down here — they could no longer be brought to bear on the Atlesians.

The airship was firing its guns, but at the same time, it was moving away from the position it had been defending, moving in such a way that made it harder to engage its enemies, and moving, what was more, away from any enemies. Might there be a disagreement between the people flying the ship and the people crewing the guns? One group wanted to fight the Atlesians, another was less keen. Sunset hadn't been watching the whole course of the aerial battle — she had to keep her eyes on the road at least some of the time; it would be a fine thing if this venture ended with Councillor Emerald breaking his neck after Sunset crashed her bike into a stray dog or an overturned trash can because she wasn't paying attention to where she was going — but perhaps the Atlesian attack had scared off the bridge crew, but the gunners were still full of fight.

Perhaps the bridge crew were less enthralled to the Siren's song and could recognise how absurd General Blackthorn's orders and this entire situation was, how ludicrous it was to fight the Atlesians, to declare martial law on their own people, to send out columns of infantry and armoured vehicles to shoot people for breaking a curfew that hadn't existed until tonight.

If it was so, then Sunset could only wish that there were more people of such sense in the Valish Defence Forces.

She looked back at the road, checking that there was nothing she was about to run into, and then turned her eyes towards the skies once more. The fire from the battleship was slackening all the time as its course brought it further away and increasingly badly angled to engage. The anti-airship guns on top of the towers were firing, blazing away, lighting up the night sky with their fire, but while that might have looked impressive before the great battleship had turned its side into a wall of fire, it was rather less so now.

It seemed the Atlesian airships — Rainbow could have named them, no doubt, and maybe Blake could too, but all Sunset could say was that they were not the Skyray transports — thought so too, by the way they swooped in to the attack. Flares burst from the rears of the airships, looking like falling stars as they descended through the darkness, confusing the guns as their fire ripped harmlessly through the falling lights. Some of the Atlesian ships were struck, it seemed to Sunset — one of them even had one of its bulky rear engines catch fire — but none of them fell, they were all still flying.

They were all still firing, too, as missiles leapt from beneath the rectangular wings in fiery trails to slam into the towers beneath the guns. The grim, gaunt, concrete towers were shattered, falling in fragments down to the ground, and the guns with them. Falling either inside or outside the Headquarters itself, as Sunset supposed they would find out once they reached it.

"Atlesian restraint?" Councillor Emerald cried.

"I mean, they didn't destroy the ship, Councillor!" Sunset replied. "And most of the building looks to be intact. We shouldn't have any trouble getting inside."

Two Atlesian Skyrays streaked overhead, flying towards the Headquarters even as the other airships, the ones that had just knocked out the towers, withdrew.

"At least I hope not," Sunset muttered.

"Miss Shimmer?"

"Never mind, Councillor, it was nothing," Sunset said.

So, the Atlesians were going to attack the Headquarters as well? Sunset hadn't known that they were going to do that — she'd been expelled from paradise before being able to find out what Professor Ozpin and his allies planned to do with the information Cinder had supplied — but it made sense that they would take such a step. No doubt they thought, as Councillor Emerald thought, that the key to getting a grip on this madness lay in the beating heart of the Valish Defence Force. Although what General Ironwood intended by getting a grip on things, Sunset was not so sure of. Did they mean to wipe out the Valish high command? Would that have any impact at all, so long as the Siren's spell remained in effect? And what of the Siren herself, were they prepared for her? It was hard to see how they could be — Sunset wasn't certain she was prepared for the Siren, and she at least knew what it was, what it was capable of, understood its magic as a fellow native of Equestria; how were Atlesians, who didn't understand what they were dealing with, who might not have even been told what they were dealing with, supposed to prepare better than her?

Professor Ozpin, I fear our secrecy will be our undoing. Sunset understood why Professor Ozpin and his allies were reluctant to share information with the wider world — and not least because those who knew the truth seemed to have a distressing habit of taking fright as Amber had or turning traitor as Professor Lionheart had if Cinder spoke true — but so many people were involved in this beyond the handful with whom the Professor chose to share his information. This battle relied on so many more than simply Team SAPR and Team RSPT, or General Ironwood and Qrow Branwen. So many people were fighting to contain Salem's malice, and yet, they fought with one hand behind their backs.

One could argue that battles of this scale were rare, but still … they didn't know what they were walking into.

Perhaps Sunset ought to have contacted General Ironwood herself to have informed him about her own plans, her observations, what she'd seen in the Headquarters, and what General Ironwood's people might be getting into — at the same time, she could have asked them to not shoot her if they saw her — but even if that thought had occurred to her, which, in all the excitement, it had not … she didn't have his number.

Although I think Councillor Emerald must; not that this occurred to him either.

Perhaps he thought that General Ironwood wasn't going to intervene in Vale. In fairness, for the most part, he has not. We haven't seen Atlesian troops dropping in all over the city to redeem the situation. Their only strike is coming here, at the central nerve centre.

They were getting close to the Headquarters themselves now. Sunset turned off the road and into a small side road, an alleyway connecting two larger thoroughfares. The road ahead of her would take them directly to the Headquarters, past the Albright building where Sunset had conducted her reconnaissance earlier today; that was why Sunset stopped her bike while they were still in the alley, hitting the brakes so that they came to a stop lurking behind or beside some sort of building that Sunset hadn't paid attention to before and couldn't identify now.

"Why are we stopped?" Councillor Emerald demanded.

Sunset got off her bike and took off her helmet. "We're stopped," she said, "because the last time I was here, there were roadblocks outside the HQ, and troops, and tanks. And I don't want you to get blown up, Councillor — it wouldn't be in the interests of Vale or your son — so I need you to stay here, where it's safe, and then I'll go out there, clear a path for us, and I'll shout you when it's safe to come out."

"Your consideration is appreciated, Miss Shimmer, but at some point, I suppose you will have to accept some danger to me," Councillor Emerald murmured.

"At some point, Councillor, but not a tank," Sunset replied, in a tone so tart it would have made a pleasant dessert. "They can't see you, but that doesn't mean the shell fragments couldn't do you harm. Also, there's something that I need you to do: call General Ironwood, tell him that we're on our way, and ask him to tell his men currently trying to storm the base not to shoot at us; we're on the same side."

Councillor Emerald nodded. "I don't know if he'll answer, but I can try." He got his scroll of the breast pocket of his jacket, then stopped. "Will he be able to hear me, concealed as I am?"

Sunset opened her mouth. "That … is a very good question, Councillor, to which I fear I do not know the answer. But, in the circumstances, provided you stay here…" She placed one hand upon the Councillor's shoulder and dispelled the enchantment that she had cast upon him at the beginning of their ride. "There, you can be seen and noticed as much as anyone else now, so it really is important that you stay here. Once it's safe, and you've made the call, I will restore the effect until we reach … until it's time for you to start giving orders." She stepped away. "I'll be as quick as I can."

"What are you planning to do against a tank, Miss Shimmer?" asked Councillor Emerald.

"Well, I have one or two ideas, Councillor," Sunset replied. It really depended on … how comfortable she was in killing the crew.

Not particularly, to be honest. She didn't really want to kill anyone — it hadn't been any fun the first time, and she doubted that it was going to taste better with repetition — and in any case, it wasn't really their fault that they were being controlled by a Siren. As dangerous as they might be to the peace, the people of Vale, and the stability of Remnant, it was a bit unfair to blame them or hold them responsible. So blowing up a shell in their gun so as to destroy the whole tank in a fiery explosion … no. Sunset would have done it if it had been crewed by robots just for how cool it would have looked, but people … no. She might have … hopefully, she hadn't done too much harm to the soldiers they'd encountered so far — all those motorcyclists had been wearing their helmets, after all — but blowing them up was a step too far.

Which meant…

Yeah. Yeah, that ought to do it.

Sunset drew Soteria from across her back. She gripped the black sword lightly in one hand but did not ignite it; she didn't have that much dust, she probably couldn't keep it lit for long and needed to save it. And if she'd wanted to burn someone, she'd have planned to blow up the tank.

Instead, the blade was as black as the night itself as Sunset stepped out into the street.

She didn't stop — she didn't want anyone to start shooting at her while the Councillor was still close by — she ran down the road, towards the looming building, its broken towers smoking like the topless towers of Mistral burned in The Mistraliad, and towards the roadblock that guarded it.

It was as it had been earlier that day, when she had stood on the roof of the Albright building and spied on the headquarters and the defences they had been erecting: there was a roadblock of concrete, there were troops and machine guns — and a tank parked up in front of the building itself, its array of guns pointing outwards.

Sunset could hear shooting coming from inside the headquarters; there was no sign of the two Atlesian Skyrays, so Sunset could only guess that they had dropped into the courtyard and deposited their troops within. Bold of them, but possibly easier than trying to take out any of these Valish tanks.

Tank aside, the roadblock seemed more lightly manned than it had been — or seemed to Sunset — earlier today; perhaps the Atlesian air assault had drawn troops off the roadblock and inside to defend the building.

Fortunate for us, as I thought.

One of the machine guns sat idle and unmanned, only one of them had a crew, and there was but a thin line of infantry on the roadblock, with the tank behind.

It took them a few moments to notice Sunset. Sunset had already reached out with her telekinesis, a green glow surrounding the concrete rails that cut off the road; she strained a little against the weight of them — they were certainly robust things, and she wouldn't have wanted to crash her bike or even a car into them, but her magical might far outstripped her physical strength, and she would not be balked by a couple of weighty bits of concrete and steel. As she ran forwards, hand outstretched towards the roadblock, Sunset brought her strength to bare.

The roadblock had just begun to shift when the Valish soldiers, hitherto distracted by the battle going on behind them, their eyes turned towards their own Headquarters as if they could divine the ebb and flow of the fighting through the solid wall, realised that something was happening.

They saw her, shouts rang out from the roadblock.

Sunset shoved the concrete roadblocks backwards, knocking the soldiers backwards too and onto their backs, sending them flying as — with gritted teeth — she hurled the roadblocks at the tank. They struck the angular front armour with a crash that echoed off the green metal plate, like the ringing of a gong for dinner.

The tank rocked backwards for a second, then like a sleeping dragon on its hoard awakened by the thief's approach, the turret and the great gun began to turn to track Sunset's position.

Sunset kept on running, quickening her pace, darting from one side of the road to the other. The tank fired its machine guns, one in the turret, one in a pintle-mounting on top of the turret — which opened, a soldier sticking his head out to man the gun — the guns in the sponsons bolted to the side; they all sprayed fire out at Sunset as she ran like a startled hare to try and stay one step ahead of the tracer rounds.

With Soteria in one hand, Sunset fired magic from the other, green bolts leaping from her fingertips, fired half-blindly in the direction of the tank. She let out a few bursts at the soldiers, when she could spare one, knocking them down and out before they could recover their weapons, man either machine gun, aim a rifle in her direction. Some of them were able to get shots off, to add their fire to that of the tank, but with so many bullets already flying at her, shredding the cars around her, shattering the windows of the coffee shops and CCT cafes on either side of the road, a couple of rifles really didn't make much difference. So, not all of the soldiers lay like discarded toys around the tank, nevertheless, it was for the tank that Sunset reserved most of her fire, bolt after bolt of magic bursting from her fingers.

None of them penetrated the vehicle's armour; indeed, Sunset wondered if even her strongest shot could have done that even if she'd wanted it to, but these little bolts of magic certainly could not; the green energy washing over the armour. She just hoped that the lights were distracting the crew, throwing off their aim as the turret turned this way then that, trying to track her zig-zag pathway down the road towards it.

The turret — or the crew within — gave up trying to follow her and turned the turret so that it was facing right bang down the centre of the road.

The gun fired.

Sunset, who had hoped to save her magic, teleported.

The gun roared deafeningly. The shell struck the centre of the road and obliterated it, turning the street into a crater digging down towards the water pipes and power lines beneath, the explosive power tearing through the walls of the buildings on either side and exposing the ruins within.

But Sunset had already appeared on top of the turret; she kicked the soldier manning the pintle-mounted gun, though she had to kick him twice to knock him out and send him falling down inside the tank. Sunset slammed the hatch closed with telekinesis and planted a foot on top of it. Blasts of magic flew from her hand to knock out the remaining Valish soldiers from this position.

She took a breath — she had been using quite a bit of magic lately; it was a minor miracle that she didn't feel more tired than she did. She felt … she felt weary, but not as much as she might have expected to, as if she had more magic than she had realised, as though it had grown in total amount if not in the power of the spells themselves.

Still, she needed to take a breath. She took a breath, and then she brought Soteria down upon the barrel of the tank, the venerable blade cutting into and then through the barrel, severing it from the turret. It hit the road in front of the tank with a clanging crash and rolled a few feet towards the crater it had made.

Sunset took another deep breath and gathered magic in the palm of her free hand. She held it there, gathering it, letting it wait for a few seconds, one, two, three — she tore open the hatch down into the turret and fired the magical blast straight down.

She slammed the hatch down shut again, and half-heard, half-felt the magic ricocheting off the inside of the tank, bouncing around it uncontrollably, searching for escape and finding none.

It stopped, the magic exhausted, no more sound, no more vibrations. Sunset cautiously opened the hatch and looked inside. The crew in their Valish green uniforms were all slumped in their seats or laid out on the floor of the tank.

Sunset looked around. Four corners, four roadblocks, four vehicles set around the building, and they would have heard something, so she ought to expect some sort of response from them.

One roadblock, the one to her right, was gone; the debris of the tower had fallen outside when the Atlesian airships had struck and now tank and roadblock and all accompanying soldiers were buried under a pile of grey rubble and the twisted remains of a large anti-air gun. Sunset stared at it, the wreckage of war concealing the weapon of war. It was a nasty way to go, especially for those who didn't … who hadn't invited it, except by another's voice.

In front of Sunset, protecting the northeast corner of the headquarters—

A bullet hit Sunset in the chest, knocking her backwards and off the turret. She landed on her back on the front of the hull and started to roll off it; Sunset flung out her hand and managed to grab the turret-mounted machine gun. It was hot, the heat of it burned away a scrap of her aura, but she was able to stop her descent, and she let go as soon as she'd scrabbled into a more secure position on the hull.

More bullets slammed into the back of the tank.

Sunset raised as little of her head as she could to see over the top of the turret.

In front of her, protecting the northeast corner of the headquarters, the tank had not been buried, nor had the soldiers all been stripped to defend the courtyard. It was the soldiers who were shooting at her, while their tank rolled backwards, then forwards as it began to turn its entire body in her direction; the turret swivelled too, and Sunset was left wondering whether they would fire their main gun on their own tank with their own crew inside.

Do they know the crew is still alive?

Sunset flinched as a bullet whipped past her equine ears. She ducked beneath the turret, which echoed with the sound of bullets bouncing off the armour.

Can I get them out before that other tank opens fire?

The other tank ground to a sudden stop; the turret ceased to move along with the tracks as smoke started rising out of the back.

A great deal of smoke, more of it rising every passing moment.

The top hatch opened, and the crew began to scramble out, leaping down to the ground as quick as they could and running from their vehicle towards the headquarters itself.

As the smoke turned to flame, the infantry fell back as well, taking a few last shots in Sunset's direction as they retreated to join their fellow soldiers in defence of the courtyard within.

Sunset watched the flames, wondering if the tank was going to explode. It didn't, but it did continue to burn, with no sign of the flames abating or of the plume of smoke continuing to rise up to the sky.

Is this what happens when you don't upgrade or maintain things?

Lucky for me if it is. In the circumstances, Councillor Emerald might even see it the same way.

Sunset slid off the front of the tank, landing unsteadily on the ground in front of it. She steadied herself, then picked her way forwards around the unconscious Valish soldiers, before sidling around the edge of the crater that the tank's shell had made. She looked in through the broken wall demolished by the blast: tables and chairs alike had been smashed, or else tossed aside to lie in splintered heaps upon a floor covered with dust. Thank goodness, nobody appeared to have been inside.

It was also thankful that she had left Councillor Emerald too far away to have possibly been caught by the blast.

Indeed, when Sunset rounded the corner, she found him there, just putting his scroll away.

"Councillor," Sunset said, rolling her shoulders back. "It's done."

XxXxX​

Aspen heard the gunfire erupt out in the street; it gave his fingers pause.

He didn't look out to see what was going on — he wasn't so foolish; Miss Shimmer had asked him to stay put for a reason, and that reason was that he had no defence against bullets as she did; he could do nothing to help her — but he couldn't help but wonder.

He wondered, and he wondered at his own wondering. It had not been too long ago, after all, when he would have gladly seen Miss Shimmer dead. When the thought of her being shredded by machine guns, blown to smithereens, would have brought him great joy, and yet now…

Yet now, they were saving Vale together; not only that, but he found that he hoped she came through it alright every bit as much as he wished to come through it himself.

His only misgiving about the whole thing was that she seemed almost to have become fond of him in turn, although he would be hard put to say why. Maybe it was his son she was fond of, that would make more sense; everyone liked flattery, after all, and Bramble offered up his admiration freely.

There had been a time when Aspen hadn't liked that either, lamenting the dearth of faunus role models that his son had to alight upon Sunset Shimmer of all people to take as his hero. Now … he could certainly do better, but he could also do a lot worse.

Whether it was Aspen himself or his son or even Novo that Miss Shimmer was fond of, the fondness as a notion was … it made Aspen a little nervous, though he tried to hide the fact better than he had hidden his earlier hostility to Miss Shimmer.

It made him nervous for the same reason — for part of the same reason, at any road — that he no longer hated Miss Shimmer: because she was not a callous person, not cold and uncaring. At least … she cared about some things, some people, very much indeed; that Aspen might, for whatever reason, upon whomsoever's behalf, be included in that circle caused him a degree of trepidation that might have surprised some.

When Aspen had first been elected as the Alderman for Richmond West and Williamsborough, his mentor, old Lord Bentinck, had taken him aside and warned him not to get too involved in constituency matters.

"Everybody wants you to help them, Aspen. Now, that's partly our own fault, because local government is so opaque that it's a lot easier for people to find out who their Alderman is than to work out how to approach the borough witan, but the fact remains that they'll turn you into some sort of glorified local handyman if you let them, filling in potholes on the roads and fixing leaky roofs in the social housing. You'll need to find it in yourself to resist that kind of thing without making yourself disliked over it. You need to rise above it, Aspen, rise above!"

"But it's not all potholes or leaky roofs," Aspen replied.

"Oh, they've gotten to you already, have they?" Lord Bentinck asked in a tone of despair. "What is it? Hospital waiting times? Someone in prison?"

"Sheltered accommodation," Aspen murmured. "There's a woman, she … she's hiding from her husband. She's hoping to get a place to stay."

"Yes, yes, it tugs on the old heartstrings, I'm sure," said Lord Bentinck breezily. "But that sort of thing isn't your job, and it'll consume all your energies if you let it. There's always a face to it, and there's always a story behind it, and you always want to help, wouldn't have a heart if you didn't. But you're not a social worker, Aspen, you're a legislator! And we can't legislate to fix the world one case at a time. We can't legislate to give a hospital bed to Mister Blue and Mrs. Green and all the shades of Yellow."

"But we can make sure there's provision in the system for everyone," said Aspen.

"At what cost, young man, who pays for it?" Lord Bentinck took off his spectacles and wiped the lenses on the edge of his scarlet smoking jacket. "If I can give you one piece of advice, young Aspen: just because it has adverse impacts, doesn't mean the system isn't working as it should, and as well as it can. Just because someone doesn't have everything they want doesn't mean we haven't struck the right balance between taxation and service provision; just because someone says there is an innocent person in prison doesn't mean there's been a miscarriage of justice; there will always be adverse impacts, someone, somewhere, will always lose out or be left unhappy, be left with less than they would like. You can't solve everyone's problems for them; you have to look up, look at Vale as a whole, in the round. The kingdom comes first, it has to; you can't put individuals — whatever their plight, however sorry you feel for them — ahead of the good of Vale; otherwise, we'll all be suffering adverse impacts soon enough."

It was a lesson that he feared Miss Shimmer, for all her regrets over her part in the Breach, had not learned, might not even be capable of learning. You couldn't put Miss Rose and Mister Arc above the kingdom, and you couldn't put Councillor Emerald above it either. You needed to look up, to look at Vale, to ignore the people and see only the realm. He wasn't sure that Miss Shimmer could do that, that she was capable of doing that.

He wasn't sure that if it came to it she would be able to put Vale over him, because she seemed to want to protect him.

Not that he objected to being protected in ordinary circumstances, but he was not as important as Vale itself. Otherwise, as Lord Bentinck had put it, they would all be suffering adverse impacts.

Just as they had before.

I must hope that she has changed.

Or that she is so skilled the question does not arise.

They were still shooting at her; so Miss Shimmer was at least sufficiently skilled to not have died yet.

Aspen finished calling General Ironwood. He was uncertain that he would get a response. General Ironwood must be quite busy in the circumstances, one of the reasons he had hesitated to try and get in touch with him earlier, another being that he was unsure if General Ironwood would think him responsible for this current mess; after all, they hadn't always seen eye to eye.

If the Atlesian general did not respond, then … he and Miss Shimmer would just have to muddle through and try not to get caught in the crossfire.

I can't just stand by and let the Atlesians storm our headquarters; that will make this look like even more of a war than it already did. I have to make it seem that they were at least acting on behalf of the legitimate Valish government.

Yet there was no response from General Ironwood. His scroll was seeking a connection and finding none.

General Ironwood was probably on call with half a dozen officers at any given moment; there was no point in waiting for him to be free. Aspen was about to hang up when he got a response.

"Councillor Emerald? I'm glad to hear from you, but I'm also a little busy at the moment—"

"Yes, busy ordering an attack on the headquarters of the Valish Defence Force, I know," Aspen said. "I'm outside there myself, with Miss Shimmer."

There was a pause. "With Sunset Shimmer?"

"Yes, she's been good enough to escort me here," Aspen replied. "She's currently dealing with a couple of obstacles on the way to the door." He flinched from an almighty explosion that sent dust showering down the road past his hiding place. "At least, I hope she still is."

"Councillor, what are you doing there?" demanded Ironwood.

"I'm here to take command of my military and order them to stop shooting at yours," Aspen replied. "So if you could tell your men not to shoot at Miss Shimmer or myself, that would be very much appreciated."

"The middle of an action is a hard time to get hold of an officer, Councillor; you should have contacted me sooner," Ironwood said. "I could have sent an airship to pick you up."

"In the circumstances, I'd rather not come flying in on an Atlesian airship, although I suppose a connection is unavoidable now," Aspen muttered. "General Ironwood, on behalf of the people of Vale, will you undertake to suppress this military uprising against the Council and protect the democratically elected civilian authorities?"

There was another pause. "I appreciate the figleaf, Councillor, but if you're hoping for anything more substantial than the resources I've already committed, I'm afraid I must decline. The grimm are about to attack the Green Line, and all my forces are needed at the front to repel them; I've nothing to spare for a street fight in Vale."

"Which is why you're hoping to cut the head off the snake."

"I'm hoping to force a Valish surrender," Ironwood told him. "If I may, Councillor, sit this one out. Have Miss Shimmer take you somewhere safe and let my people do their jobs."

"Until this situation with the Defence Force is resolved, I'm not sure there is a safe place in Vale," Aspen said. "And I'm not going to run and hide while you and yours, appreciated though your help might be, make this look like the next act in a brewing conflict, not when I can try and stop it. And besides … do you know what you're dealing with in there, General?" Do you know there's a magical creature that's controlling my soldiers and that only Miss Shimmer can defeat it?

Do you know that there's such a thing as magic?

"I do," Ironwood said, although since Aspen hadn't been very clear about what he meant — and how could he be clearer, when he barely understood what he meant himself? — that could have meant anything. "I will try to get in touch with Captain Ebi leading the assault, but I can't guarantee anything. If you're determined to do this—"

"I am," Aspen said.

"Then watch yourself, Councillor," Ironwood said. "Ironwood out."

He hung up.

Aspen was just in the act of putting his scroll away when Miss Shimmer appeared around the corner.

"Councillor," she said, adjusting her posture to make herself stand a little prouder. "It's done."

XxXxX​

"Councillor," Sunset said, rolling her shoulders back. "It's done."

Councillor Emerald finished putting his scroll away. "I … how was it done, Miss Shimmer?"

"Bloodlessly, on my part, though not painlessly for all concerned," Sunset replied. "And General Ironwood?"

"Suggested that I should go, and leave this to his people," Councillor Emerald declared.

"I see," Sunset murmured. "And do you wish to go, Councillor?"

"No," Councillor Emerald said. "I will press on. I trust you have no objections to that?"

"No, Councillor, none at all," Sunset said. "If you had said otherwise, you would have put me in a very awkward position."

"I'm glad to avoid that," Councillor Emerald said dryly. "Does Ironwood know what he's up against? He said he did, but does he know about this … magical creature of yours?"

Sunset hesitated for a moment. She supposed that questions like this were inevitable from the moment that she'd brought up the subject, opened up the door even a little to Councillor Emerald. That being said, perhaps she should have taken some time to prepare some answers. How much ought she to say without saying too much. How much, in the circumstances, was too much?

Professor Ozpin might say that I have said too much already.

Yes, but I've said it now, and I can't take it back. And just because Professor Ozpin believes it doesn't make it right. What should I have said else, that someone with a semblance has brainwashed the Valish Defence Force? That might not be impossible, but you'd need an awful lot of aura to keep that going on a scale like this.

The truth is … easier, in this instance; it invites fewer follow-up questions that I'd struggle to answer.

The same might be true here as well. "General Ironwood does, Councillor, yes; at least, I believe he does," Sunset replied. "His soldiers, though, I cannot answer, though I would say probably not."

Councillor Emerald's eyes narrowed. "Why the secrecy? How does Ironwood know, and if he knows, then how come I have to hear it from you? Does Ozpin know?"

"If General Ironwood knows, it is because he heard it from Professor Ozpin, who heard it from Cinder Fall," Sunset explained.

"And who didn't tell me," Councillor Emerald said.

"Professor Ozpin—"

"Had no right!" Councillor Emerald snapped. "No right, none at all! To keep this to himself and make his plans with Ironwood while I am left sitting in the dark, none at all!"

"Professor Ozpin warned you that General Blackthorn might not be entirely trustworthy, that you should use the police to protect critical infrastructure," Sunset reminded him. "If he had told you about magical creatures too, would you have believed it, or would it have diluted the impact of his other warnings?" She put a hand on the Councillor's shoulder and re-cast the spell to deflect notice away from him. "Now, shall we stand out here and gripe about the degree to which you were or were not kept informed on things, or shall we go and take your military back?"

"Quite right, Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald said. "I can rail at Ozpin tomorrow. Ironwood told me he might not be able to reach his people and warn them about us."

"I see," Sunset said. "Well, as Professor Ozpin once said to me, I suppose we'll manage to keep house. Don't worry, Councillor, I'll look after you."

"That comforts me and frightens me in equal measure, Miss Shimmer."

Sunset knew what he meant by that, and that knowing meant that, although to be honest it stung a little bit, she could see his point sufficiently that she didn't allow him to see that it stung. It would have been self-indulgent, all things considered, to have stood on her wounded dignity upon the point. She ought to be grateful that he trusted her as much as he did.

"Come on, Councillor," she said. "This way."

She took him by the arm as though he were a child and led him out onto the street and down it, past the bullet-riddled cars, the conveniences with the broken windows, the pockmarked wall of the Albright Foundation; she led him around the hole in the ground made by the Valish shell; and she led him past the tank that she had knocked out, to where he could see the other tank that had set itself on fire trying to move against her.

"Did you do that, Miss Shimmer?" Councillor Emerald asked.

"No, Councillor, it did that to itself," Sunset replied lightly.

"I see," Councillor Emerald murmured dispiritedly. "If I were to say that Councils of all stripes and persuasions have taken advantage of the peace dividend to slash defence spending, would anyone care?"

"Probably not, Councillor," Sunset admitted. "I fear the multitude are a fickle herd."

"And fortune is very fickle in politics, though I would have thought we were due for some good luck."

"I think my luck was very good in that tank catching fire before it could shoot at me," Sunset couldn't help but remark. "And if our luck holds, our way in will be just as straightforward."

Nevertheless, she was not so blithe or blasé that she skipped along towards the entrance without a care in the world. Rather, having already slung Soteria back across her back, she unslung Sol Invictus and reversed the grip so that she was holding the rifle by the barrel like a club, ready to whack anyone who came to close — she thought that, for all it was likely to hurt, it might be just a little less lethal than the sword. She hoped, at least.

The entrance lay on the north side, between the tank that Sunset had knocked out and the one that had broken down so disastrously, and as they got closer, Sunset found herself getting closer and closer to the wall until she practically had her back to it.

She climbed up the handful of steps to the door — the sound of the fighting within was getting louder now — and stood beside the door. She would have expected it to be locked, except that the tank crew and their accompanying infantry had entered somehow, hadn't they?

Sunset peered around the corner, and the automatic door slid open. Beyond, there was an array of security measures in the lobby — metal detectors, sealed doors, cameras — but nobody actually monitoring any of them. Nobody was standing guard, nobody was making sure the doors stayed closed.

Beyond the sealed but transparent doors, Sunset could see tracer rounds zipping through the air, rockets or grenades exploding, what looked like quadruped robots, although she couldn't make them out in detail. It seemed, on the basis of what lay before her, that the fighting inside the courtyard was consuming all the energies of the Valish defence.

Sunset gestured for Councillor Emerald to follow her as she stepped through the open door and into a lobby with a marble floor and oak-panelled walls. A painting of the Battle of the Four Sovereigns, showing the Last King heroically leading his soldiers against the Mistralians as lightning flashed down all around them, dominated the entire of one wall; if one were being uncharitable, one might say that it depicted the last time that Valish soldiers had won any glory. On the other side of the lobby was a desk, and Sunset headed that way, guessing that it was a security desk, even though there was no security guard.

She vaulted over the desk, finding a lot of monitors displaying images from the cameras, a visitor book and visitor passes, and a button to open the sealed door. Sunset pressed it, causing a beeping sound as the door opened; she put the visitor's book on top of the button to keep the door open as she stepped around the desk and led Councillor through the metal detectors — they sounded an alarm, but no one was around to respond to it — and through the door.

Sunset found herself crouching down, and Councillor Emerald did the same. They crept more than walked to the entrance out into the courtyard.

The quiet place into which Sunset had teleported had now become a battlefield.

The two Atlesian Skyrays had landed on either side of the fountain; they were still there, doors open, and personnel were using the interior rotary cannons to provide covering fire. The Atlesian force that had disembarked from the airships didn't look large — certainly, it didn't look as large as the number of Valish defenders — but they included at least some huntsmen — or Specialists — distinguishable by their unique weapons: a fishing rod, a hammer, no weapons at all but aura alone.

The advantages of training and aura were no doubt why the Atlesians had not been overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the Valish opposed to them, but they looked to be struggling to break out of the courtyard in either direction. Their soldiers — not counting the huntsman — were crouched on the ground, or else taking cover around the airships, exchanging fire with the Valish.

The Valish, despite having the advantage of numbers, seemed no closer to sweeping the Atlesians out of their base than the Atlesians did of breaking through into the base interior; the Valish soldiers clung to cover at the edges of the courtyard, firing from behind the columns that lined the colonnade — those that hadn't already been destroyed, at any rate. There, they exchanged fire with the Atlesian troops.

The space in between belonged to the robots.

They were not Atlesian robots, Sunset was sure of that; if nothing else, the way that they bounded across the courtyard towards the Atlesians was, to say the least, strongly suggestive of it. They were like … Sunset was at a bit of a loss to say what they were like: four-legged, headless, faceless, with none of the effort put into residual anthropomorphism that the Atlesian battle droids possessed. Their legs had joints that bent backwards, and their bodies were boxy and black and seemed to be well-armoured, judging by the way that the bullets of the Atlesian infantry were bouncing off them. The fire from the airship cannons seemed to be having a little more impact, but even that was only staggering them, not stopping them.

What was stopping them — stopping them dead in their tracks as they tried to charge across the courtyard — were the Atlesian Specialists. The poster boy with his fishing rod hooked one and tossed it up high into the air; it fell down and half shattered on impact. A small woman with a head that was mostly shaved and some sort of powered exoskeleton on her arms moved like lightning, streaking lightning after her as she shattered robot after robot with a single punch at a time. A burly fellow with an enormous black beard cut through them with his cutlass.

But those little four-legged robots were not all the Valish had — from where? Was this Starhead Technology? Had Ruby's new benefactor come up with these? — to throw against their enemies. As Sunset watched, one of the walls of the headquarters was shattered by an enormous robotic gorilla, or some such immense ape. It had arms thicker than Sunset's shoulders, a chest covered in armour plate beaten out to resemble muscles, and even the appearance of rippling fur upon its shoulders. It beat upon its armoured chest with both immense fists, and a synthetic roar emerged from a mouth that opened and closed.

The gorilla leapt up, bullets ricocheted off its armour as one of the gunners on the Skyrays futilely opened fire upon it. It descended like an avalanche upon the bearded Specialist with the cutlass. It seemed unfeeling — it was unfeeling; it was a robot, after all — to the way the small woman beat on its side with her fist as it beat down upon the man beneath it.

The lantern-jawed Specialist with the movie-star looks hooked the robotic gorilla on the back somewhere with his fishing rod, yanking it off their comrade and dumping the robot flat on its back. A large woman, built like an agglomeration of trees — she was all trunk, no branches — brought down a hammer on it that was so big it made Nora's dread weapon look like a toy.

It still took two hits to smash the gorilla's head to smithereens and lay it out twitching on the ground.

Sunset thought that that must — or might, at least — have been what she had heard thumping around when she had been here last, one of them anyway.

If that wasn't entirely certain, one thing was certain: she couldn't lead Councillor Emerald through this maelstrom.

But, on the other hand, she should be … somewhat grateful that the Atlesians didn't look like breaking through yet, held back by the waves of Valish robots.

A head start would be nothing to sneeze at.

Sunset grabbed Councillor Emerald by the shoulder, pulling him in towards her as though she meant to embrace him.

"Miss Shimmer?"

"Hold on tight, Councillor," Sunset said, as she envisaged … she envisaged the office where she had hidden briefly, the office with the bored or sedated or drained of emotion workers from the … Sunset couldn't remember what they'd been working on. But she remembered the office layout, she remembered where it was relative to the door, the corridor, the courtyard, and while that wasn't as good as being able to see the location, it was the next best thing.

And it would have to do.

Sunset teleported, carrying Councillor Emerald with her as they materialised with a crack and a flash of green light inside the office where Sunset had hidden earlier.

Unlike her last infiltration of this headquarters, the effects of her teleportation were not concealed by a spell.

The people in the office — one of them had a rifle in her hands; the others were armed with office utensils — stared at her.

"Drop your weapons and put your hands up?" Sunset suggested.

The woman with the rifle raised it. Sunset pushed Councillor Emerald to one side as she charged, saving her magic with a headlong rush over desks and across the room with Sol Invictus raised like a club over her head. The woman opened fire, spraying bullets on fully automatic. Sunset flung herself to the floor, letting the bullets fly overhead as she lashed out with her gun at the woman's ankles. She went down, but before Sunset could rise up, a man in a white shirt with an open collar had jumped on her, putting his sweaty hands around her neck.

Sunset hit him on the jaw. His head jerked, and he half fell, half rolled off her.

Another woman charged her with a letter opener, the small knife raised for a downward thrust. Sunset struck her with the butt of Sol Invictus, and her legs left the floor as she landed, unconscious, rear first on the floor.

Sunset did much the same to the man she saw going for the discarded gun.

Councillor Emerald picked himself up.

"Such madness," he muttered. "Is there no way to reason with them? To make them see—?"

"See what, Councillor?" Sunset asked. "I … I fear that this would not be so hard if there had not been … a hostility towards Atlas in the hearts of many before this."

Councillor Emerald thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. "Are you saying I should reflect on my part in all this Miss Shimmer?"

"I didn't say that, Councillor," said Sunset. "You didn't bring a Siren here."

"No," said Councillor Emerald. "But I didn't stand against the hostility." He paused. "Will everyone here be our enemy?"

"Not everyone, I hope, Councillor … but most," Sunset admitted.

Councillor Emerald scowled. "Well, if it must be so, then … best get it over with, I suppose. Lead on, Miss Shimmer."

Sunset opened the door ajar and looked around. There was no sign of any guards — or robotic gorillas.

Although, now that she knew what they were, that prospect was not as frightening as when it had been a vague, large menace. So long as there weren't so many of them that they used up all her—

Sunset stopped. Would robots be fooled by the spell she had cast over Councillor Emerald? She hadn't thought about it, for the simple reason that she hadn't thought about the Valish using robots, but now that she had seen that they did, now that she had been prompted to think about it … she found that the uncomfortable answer was 'probably not.' After all, robots didn't have attention, or attentiveness, or attention spans; they had no will, only sensors and programming, and so what chance had a spell telling you to look away? Robots didn't look anywhere, not in the conventional sense.

The spell might work on Penny, who was far more person than machine in what one might call the spiritual aspects, but a regular drone? A mindless automaton? They would see what mortal eyes could not.

Therefore, if she wished to take care of the Councillor, she would have to quickly take out any robots they encountered.

It was a good thing they didn't have any aura.

Since there were no robots around, or any guards, Sunset opened the door and stepped out. The sound of fighting in the courtyard behind them was clear to hear, and Councillor Emerald looked pained as he turned his head in that direction. He was contemplating, perhaps, how many Valish soldiers might be dead before the night was out.

He was a good man. Sunset hoped the people would look kindly on him.

For her own part, as rough as it was upon them, she hoped to find the interior deserted, or at least relatively so, as all the troops had been drawn into the fighting in the courtyard.

Mind, it appeared that the civilian employees had not been committed, but formed a second line of defence in case of a breakthrough.

She led Councillor Emerald through corridors that were every bit as dark as when she had been here last, beneath the cameras that would catch only fleeting half-seen glances of them, if there was anyone still watching. They took fire, at one point, from a group of people who had made a barricade out of their desks, but the area they were barricading was of no interest to Sunset, so she threw up a shield to protect Councillor Emerald until he was back in cover, then slipped away herself.

The defenders behind their barricade made no move to pursue her. They seemed to only want to hold their ground. Sunset guessed that they, like the occupants of the office into which she had teleported, were civilian workers in the defence ministry.

The anti-Atlesian zeal which the Siren had inspired in them was warring with their natural desire for self-preservation.

The robots they came across next did not have a sense of self-preservation. There were three of them, the little quadrupeds with their black armoured carapaces, looking like overgrown beetles in the dim light of the corridor.

Dark things for a dark corridor, vague silhouettes that spoke of menace, with no detail to be seen.

Though the battle outside could still be heard, it was not so loud now, and it was equally possible to hear the squeaking and the whirring and the scratching the robots made as they bounded rapidly forwards.

Sunset felt something hit her, something small but sharp, a needle into her aura.

The aura that they didn't have.

Sunset focused on the first thing that came to mind and shot a trio of bolts of magic out at the robots.

Each one was struck, and each one was transformed into a multicoloured plastic beetle, like the ones Sunset and Princess Celestia had competed to assemble in that game they'd played.

Three little insects, with detachable legs and heads and antennae and everything else, sat on the floor. They looked kind of cute, a marked improvement over the robots.

"A very versatile semblance," Councillor Emerald muttered.

Sunset didn't reply. It wouldn't be a productive discussion to have, even — or especially — if he was suspicious. She bent down and snatched one of the insects — it had a blue plastic body — up off the floor and put it into her jacket pocket before she kept on moving.

The elevator was guarded, and by soldiers, not civilians, soldiers who had nevertheless barricaded the position with overturned desks to give themselves some cover. Sunset's telekinesis enabled her to turn their barricade against them, lifting up their cover and making a weapon of it for herself. Once she had lain out the whole squad, she piled up the desks out of the way and approached the lift.

"Is it safe to use that?" asked Councillor Emerald, a touch of tremulousness creeping into his voice. "They won't be waiting for us at the bottom?"

Sunset hesitated. She couldn't say that it wasn't a concern, but at the same time, "If they knew we were coming, I think they would have more of a response to stop us. So far, we've come across nothing that we could not have encountered by accident: roving patrols, guards at a key point. But they didn't get the chance to signal for help."

Councillor Emerald was silent for half a moment before he said, "That makes sense. Alright then. Let's go."

Before they could go anywhere, Sunset first had to summon the lift, which took a while. As they waited, as the numbers above the door climbed slowly up and up and up towards them, Sunset found herself looking around furtively, anxious that another patrol — of robots, or worse, of humans who might be able to raise the alarm — might stumble across them.

They didn't. No one came, no soldiers, no little quadrupedal robots, no one.

The only thing that came for them was the elevator, its doors opening with a thrumming, rolling sound and a ping of notification.

The two of them shuffled inside. Sunset pushed the button for the bottom floor, and their descent commenced.

"When we get down there," Sunset said. "I will have to … fight hard. You should find somewhere safe to hide until I'm done, then you can broadcast to the people the way that General Blackthorn did."

"Somewhere safe to hide," muttered Councillor Emerald. "And … what if you lose, Miss Shimmer?"

"Then in death, I will be spared the anger of your son, Councillor," Sunset replied dryly. "But, though I don't deny this battle will be difficult, I don't mean to lose it."

"I'm glad to hear it."

Sunset smiled. "I have a plan, Councillor." She had the makings of a plan, at least, though that would not be so reassuring to the Councillor's ears. She looked down at her hand. Once she had dealt with Cinder, then…

The lift stopped. The doors opened. There was no one waiting on the other side, no firing squad, no giant, looming robot. There was only the darkness and the corridors that Sunset had traversed before.

She led Councillor Emerald in her footsteps, down corridors that seemed even more deserted than they had been previously, with no one on guard, no one to keep watch or to bar access. Had they really sent everyone up top to fight? Had the Atlesian attack, like a maelstrom, sucked everyone into it?

What would they find when they arrived at the command centre?

They would soon find out, for they were nearly there; it would not be long. They were almost at the point where Cinder—

A glass arrow slammed into the wall.

"It's Sunset Shimmer, isn't it?" the Siren called. "Why don't you stop skulking around there in the dark and come out so we can get to know each other? And … yeah, why don't you bring your friend out with you?"

XxXxX
​

Author's Note: There will be no chapter on Friday as I'm away; the next chapter will be out next Monday, the 15th April

 

[ScipioSmith]

The Last Duel

​

Sunset froze.

They knew she was here.

Well, of course they know that I'm here; they weren't calling out for the sake of it.

Or … maybe they—?

"Oh Sunset?" the Siren called out in a sing-song voice. "Sunset?"

No, she's not just testing the waters. She knows I'm here.

Did she sense the spell masking Councillor Emerald? But then, the last time that she sensed that, she thought it turned out to be nothing — Cinder kept my secret — so how could she be so sure that it was something now? And how would she know it was me?

Does it really matter? Isn't the important thing that she knows I'm here?

Yes. Yes, it was. Knowing the how of it might be … interesting, to some people, but it paled in comparison to the brute fact of Sunset's discovery.

Of the discovery of Sunset and Councillor Emerald. How certain could she be that the Councillor was here? How could she be sure that Sunset wasn't alone? She could, it seemed, pick up on Sunset's magic, at least when it was being used in that way, but she'd already demonstrated that she didn't know what it was. It tingled on her senses, but she didn't know that it was magic, not for sure; she didn't know that it was concealment, she didn't know who was really there. She hadn't known that Sunset was there, only thought someone might be, and she had been convinced by Cinder that she had imagined it. That had been Sunset's hope in coming back here: that, having sensed something once and been told that it was nothing, the Siren would dismiss the sensation if it returned again. Sunset had hoped that it would be like smelling smoke: if you checked everywhere and couldn't find a fire, then you probably wouldn't check again even if the smell persisted — not that day, anyway.

Evidently, Sunset's hope had been misplaced in that regard.

I brought Councillor Emerald into danger.

He brought himself into danger; I came with him to make it a little less dangerous.

She looked behind her at the Councillor, who was as frozen as Sunset was, staring at her, his face still and hard to read, especially in this lack of light.

Sunset motioned with one hand for him to stay still, stay where he was. The Siren couldn't be certain that he was sure, couldn't be sure. She thought there was someone else with Sunset, but she couldn't know that. If Cinder would keep faith with her again, then the Councillor might yet escape detection until it was done.

Sunset straightened up and walked the rest of the way down the corridor, emerging around the corner that had been her hiding place before, stepping into the command centre, the heart of the Valish Defence Force.

In a room that was full of people, few of them marked her. Most of those present were staring at the monitors and consoles that lined the walls, some of them occasionally tapping away, not doing a great deal, Sunset had to admit. There was a door open on the right-hand side of the room, and more light was coming in from that doorway than the rest of the building put together, it seemed. There were a couple of guards and a couple of officers who were not actively working at any of the consoles, amongst them General Blackthorn. The guards were looking at Sunset, and the Valish General turned his attention towards her briefly, a sneer of contempt crossing his face, before he returned his attention to the monitors.

But it didn't matter if most of the people in the room weren't paying any attention to Sunset because Cinder was there, standing in the middle of the dark chamber, and Cinder was looking right at Sunset.

Just as she had done before, but Sunset was starting to doubt that she would get so lucky a second time.

Cinder stared at her and said nothing. Despite the lack of light, the obsidian blade in her hands yet managed to glisten.

"Cinder," Sunset murmured.

Cinder didn't reply.

The Siren stuck her head out from behind Cinder; her lustrous ponytail drooped down towards the floor. "Hey there!" she cried. "It's nice to finally meet you at last! I'm Sonata Dusk—"

"Charmed," Sunset muttered.

"—and I know who you are, obviously," Sonata said. She smiled, a wicked thing that showed too many teeth, like the smile of a shark. "Yes, I know all about you."

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "I doubt that very much."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," Sonata said. She started to step out from behind Cinder as she went on, "I know that you're from Eques—"

Sunset raised her hand, a bolt of magic shooting from her palm towards Sonata. Cinder raised her own hand in turn, and Sunset's bolt went wild, careening off to one side to slam into a monitor just to the left of a Valish soldier. The monitor exploded, making the soldier jump as sparks flew and shards were scattered across the floor.

Someone grabbed a fire extinguisher and sprayed the destroyed monitor; they didn't look at Sunset while they worked; they just got on with it.

You deflected it? Cinder, what are you doing?

Sonata had retreated back behind the safety of Cinder's body. "That was close," she said, her hands on Cinder's waist as she peeked out from behind her. "Thank you, Cinder; I don't know what I'd do without you."

A wordless growl rose from Sunset's throat. "What have you done to her? Cinder, step aside; leave her to me!"

Cinder's face twitched. Her muscles seemed to be warring with her will as a momentary scowl appeared upon her face, then faded away again. She did not move, nor did she speak to Sunset.

"Cinder isn't going to do that, are you, Cinder?" Sonata asked. "Cinder's my … pet."

Sunset bared her teeth in a snarl as she took a step forward, hands knotting into fists.

Cinder raised her black blade, pointing it at Sunset.

Sunset came to a halt. "Cinder!"

"Cinder, Cinder," Sonata repeated mockingly. She giggled. "Cinder can't answer the door right now, Sunset Shimmer."

"What have you done?" Sunset snarled. "How could you do this to her?!"

"What did I do?" asked Sonata. "I sang her a song. Just a song. A song about wrath and anger and vengeance, a song that she preferred to any melody of yours."

Sunset shook her head. "Cinder," she said. "Cinder, come on, you … I know you're in there. I know your strength, I know the fire that burns within you, I have felt it! I know who you are. You're … you're better than this! You are Cinder Fall, no one's slave—"

"'No one's slave'?" Sonata repeated. She cackled with laughter. "A slave is all she's ever been. She was a slave to her stepmother, a slave to Salem, and now, she's a slave to me—"

"No!" Sunset cried. "You are yourself, always yourself, to no one's will beholden but your own. Cinder, you can fight this, you can beat it—"

"The way that she beat Pyrrha?" Sonata asked. "The way that she beat Team Sapphire? Let's face it; this girl doesn't have a great win record, does she?"

"Then what do you want with her?" Sunset demanded.

"Well, she's got potential, I'll give you that. Potential that she's never used, potential that she's held back by the limits that she's put on herself. I think that she might be able to do a whole lot more without those limits." Sonata stroked Cinder, running her hands up Cinder's side and down again to her thigh and touching upon the back skin of her leg where her red dress ended. "Plus, it's nice to have a big, strong girl around the house. You never know when you might need one." She smirked. "Or enjoy one."

"Don't you—"

"Oh, now you're gonna pretend that you care what happens to her?" Sonata asked. "That you care what's done to her? You didn't care last night, did you?"

"'Last night'?" Sunset repeated. "I … we spared her life."

"She wanted to die, you idiot; what do you think she was doing?" Sonata demanded. "She wanted to die — which sounds pretty stupid, I gotta admit, but it was what she wanted — and you know, if you had killed her, she wouldn't be here now. Because, you know, she'd be dead. But you didn't want to do that. You couldn't give her what she wanted; you didn't even care to try. You just turned your back on her and left her for me. Didn't she, Cinder?"

Cinder bared her own teeth now, bared them like a hound at Sunset as she nodded.

"But don't worry," Sonata said. "I'll take better care of Cinder than you ever did."

"Let her go."

"Bored now," Sonata said. "Bored of talking about Cinder anyway; is that really what you want to talk about? Too bad, let's talk about you; actually, no, first, let's talk about who your friend is and where they are."

"I'm alone," Sunset said.

Sonata chuckled as she looked up at the dark ceiling. "Has anyone ever treated you like an idiot?" she asked.

"No," Sunset said.

"Sometimes, it's nice," Sonata said. "Sometimes, it's easy to be treated like you're stupid, like you just don't get it, like you could never possibly amount to anything. It's nice and easy because the people who think of you that way will never see you coming." She put a hand on Cinder's shoulder, stroking her back and forth. "Will they, Cinder?" She chuckled again. "But there are other times, I gotta say, when it's really kind of annoying, and you want it to stop."

The smile faded from her face. "Don't treat me like an idiot. I know you've got someone else back there; I know that you're hiding them with Equestrian magic, the same magic that you used to hide them, or yourself, or someone else a little while ago, when Cinder covered for you because she's a bad girl. I had to sing her another song to make sure that didn't happen again." The smile returned to her face. "So either they get out here, or Cinder is going to fill that whole corridor with flame, and we'll see if your magic protects them from it."

Sunset raised her hands, both of them wreathed in green as she prepared to conjure up a shield to cover the corridor from the flames. "Yes, let's see that, why don't we?"

Sonata stared at her. Then she pouted as her raspberry eyes narrowed.

"Okay," she said through gritted teeth. "Okay, I'll … you've got me with that one, I guess." The smirk returned to her face. "How's it going retaking the battleship, General Blackthorn?"

"Marines and armed crew are moving to storm the bridge now," General Blackthorn replied. "Until then, we're still in control of the entire remainder of the vessel."

"Including all the guns, right?" Sonata asked.

"That's correct."

"Alrighty then," Sonata said. "How about this? Either your friend comes out right on a count of three, or I'll suggest to General Blackthorn here that it would be a good idea to start dropping shells on Vale?"

"He wouldn't," Sunset said.

"Oh, you'd be amazed at what these boys will do for me," Sonata said. "One—"

"Wait!" Councillor Emerald cried as he emerged from around the corridor with his hands up. "Wait, please. Don't shoot. There's no need. Here I am."

Sonata's eyes widened. "Aspen Emerald the First Councillor! Wow! I don't know who I was expecting, but I was not expecting this! It's an honour for you to be in my presence."

"Who are you talking to?" General Blackthorn asked, looking around the room.

"Oh, right, yeah," Sonata said. "Take the spell off."

"Why would I do that?" Sunset demanded.

"Oh, General—"

"Okay, okay!" Sunset snapped, shuffling over to Councillor Emerald and placing a hand upon his shoulder. "I told you to stay where you were."

"And I told you, Miss Shimmer, that my own life mattered little compared to the good of Vale," Councillor Emerald replied.

And how are you helping the good of Vale, exactly? Sunset thought as she dispelled the enchantment that she had placed upon him.

The Valish soldiers cried out in surprise as, to them, Councillor Emerald suddenly appeared out of nowhere. They raised their rifles, training them upon the Councillor.

"Wait!" Sonata cried. "Wait, wait, wait, there's no need to shoot him—"

"He is a traitor to Vale—" General Blackthorn began.

"Yet," Sonata said. "No need to shoot him yet." She licked her lips. "So, what was your plan, exactly? The two of you were going to come down here and … what? Order General Blackthorn to stand down in the name of the First Councillor?"

"Something like that," Councillor Emerald murmured. "Or persuade him to step back from this insanity."

Sonata giggled. "Did she not tell you what I was?"

"Miss Shimmer told me you were a magical creature," Councillor Emerald said. "But I thought that surely … General Blackthorn! You can think what you like about me, you can disagree with my decisions, disdain me all you like, expose me to the people if you wish, but to fire on the city of Vale? Upon your own people? On the word of this … girl! You're a soldier of Vale, an officer; how can you do this?"

"I don't need traitor scum to lecture me upon my duty to Vale," General Blackthorn declared coldly.

"On the night when you send soldiers into the streets threatening to shoot anyone who stirs out of doors, on the night that you order one of your ships to fire upon the Atlesians, it appears you do," Councillor Emerald snapped. "Martial law? Curfew? War with Atlas?" He looked around. "You are all soldiers of Vale! This is your kingdom! Your city! Damn it, doesn't that mean anything to any of you?"

"Vale will be stronger for this," General Blackthorn said. "Hard men produce good times, but good times produce weak men." He looked at Councillor Emerald. "We have grown weak indeed, and the weak men have produced hard times for Vale. Well, out of these hard times, we will produce strong men who will bring about a strong kingdom, proud and self-reliant and—"

"And burned in the fires of Atlesian bombs?" Councillor Emerald demanded. "Overrun by grimm? Gods, man, we should be thanking all our lucky stars that General Ironwood is only attacking this base, that he's only destroyed one ship, not sought to carry retribution into every corner of the city!"

"You're wasting your breath on him, Councillor," Sunset said. "She's the one you should be speaking to." She nodded towards Sonata. "Do you actually believe any of the things you've got him saying? Do you really think that Vale can win a war with Atlas? What's your plan here?" And what does it have to do with the Relic? She thought, but didn't ask because there should probably still be some secrets that Councillor Emerald wasn't privy to.

"Of course they can!" Sonata declared. "The gallant sons and daughters of Vale are going to take their city back from everyone who's ever tried to keep it down, inside and out. There's a camera through that door, and a broadcast feed. General Blackthorn is going to take the First Councillor through there, and he's going to confess to helping cover up what you did, you naughty, naughty girl. And then the noble general will execute the traitor—"

"Over my dead body," Sunset said.

Sonata shrugged. "If you insist."

"You do realise that the Atlesians are about to break through and get down here," Sunset said. "Or do you think your brainwashed Valish soldiers can hold them off?"

"I don't know what's going to happen," Sonata said. "But maybe I'll sing to them next."

"You don't care who wins, do you?" Sunset declared. "The chaos is all you want, the fighting, the anger, the despair. You just want to dance in the ashes while the fires spread."

"You said that, not me," Sonata replied. "But what do you want, Sunset Shimmer? What's an Equestrian doing all the way out here? What do you want?"

"Why don't you stop hiding behind Cinder, and I'll show you what I want to do?" Sunset growled.

"Okay, so you were planning to— right, gotcha, that actually makes sense," Sonata said, pointing at her. "It was kinda stupid of you to come down here all by yourself, but I can see why you did it. I bet a smart unicorn like you has a spell to cover her ears if I start singing, don't you?"

Sunset didn't reply. There was no reason to show Sonata all her cards.

Sonata huffed. "Fine. But you know, it doesn't have to be this way. You could, work with me here … work with me here? You and me, Equestrians, sticking together, could make a pretty sweet team?" She beamed eagerly.

"I could make a pretty sweet meal for you, you mean," Sunset said.

"Well, as my partner, you wouldn't be so selfish as to keep all of that delicious Equestrian magic to yourself, obviously, but you wouldn't be like this!" Sonata cried, tapping Cinder on the hip. "You'd still be you. I mean, let's not pretend you're a hero or anything. I don't know why you came here or who sent you, but I know that nopony comes from Equestria to this dump except because they got kicked out or they're running from something. And I know what you did. I know that you've already betrayed this city once."

"Once," Sunset admitted. "Doesn't mean I'll do it again."

"Why not?" Sonata demanded. "What's here for you?"

"The tattered shreds of my integrity," Sunset said. "And my ability to sleep at night."

Sonata rolled her eyes. "Boring."

"Also the fact that you seem so thoroughly obnoxious that I already wanted to stuff my ears up so I don't have to listen to you anymore," Sunset said. "The thought of spending a prolonged period of time in your presence makes me wish for a slow and painful death at the hands of the grimm."

"Well, that's just rude!" Sonata said. "It's fine if you want to say no, but there's no need to be like that about it! Honestly, that was … wow, was that uncalled for." Sonata ducked back behind Cinder. "Cinder, kill her for me. And make it slow and painful like she wants."

Sunset drew Soteria from across her back. "Step away, Councillor," she said. "This is likely to get … a little unrestrained."

"Keep your eyes on him, fellas," Sonata said. "Leave Sunset to Cinder."

"Guns on the Councillor, men," General Blackthorn commanded. "Ensure the traitor doesn't escape."

Sunset didn't look, but out of the corner of her eye, she could just about make out Councillor Emerald sidling along the wall away from her. The Valish soldiers were aiming at him — even the younger officers had drawn their sidearms — but so long as they didn't shoot, and so long as Sunset could get past Cinder to deal with Sonata, then he should, if all went well, be fine.

If all went well.

If Sunset could get past Cinder to get at Sonata.

If.

Cinder took a step towards her; her eyes were fully green, all trace of the smouldering amber colour gone from them, buried.

"You don't want to do this, Cinder," Sunset said. "I know you don't. Come on, Cinder, I know you can hear me!"

"Are you sure about that?" asked Sonata.

"Yes, I am!" Sunset shouted. "And you must be too, or you wouldn't be keeping Cinder as this … this puppet, for you to move around at your convenience, to do as you say and nothing more."

Sonata chuckled. "Then why don't we see what Cinder has to say about that, huh?" She started to hum. Sunset cast the spell to muffle her ears, because she didn't trust Sonata not to try and ensnare her with her Siren powers. She'd have to be a fool to trust Sonata that way. Instantly, her ears were filled with a ringing, all other sounds driven away, smothered beneath the ringing like that sickly green light that smothered the amber of Cinder's eyes.

The amber that returned to Cinder's eyes. There was still green there, a ring of green around her eyes, but Sunset could see the amber too, just as she had when she had seen Sunset and lied about it to Sonata.

Sunset smiled, certain that Sonata had made a mistake — a mistake for which she would pay dearly.

Cinder said something to her; Sunset could see her lips moving, even though she couldn't hear the words. Cinder paused for a moment, as though she were expecting an answer. When none was forthcoming, her brow furrowed, she cocked her head a little to one side.

Sonata stuck her head out from behind Cinder; her mouth was shut, and she mimed zipping up her lips.

Sunset dropped the spell, ready to pick it up again the moment Sonata started to sing once more.

She didn't. Instead, it was Cinder who spoke, for the first time — to Sunset — since last night, when Sunset, Pyrrha, and Professor Ozpin had interviewed her.

"Hello, Sunset," she said.

Sunset's smile widened. "Cinder—"

"What are you smiling about?" Cinder snapped. "Are you so confident in your victory that you grin like a loon before the first stroke falls?"

"Confident in my…" Sunset repeated, as the smile faded from her face. "Cinder, we don't have to do this. You don't have to do this, you can fight this, I know that you can, you've done—"

"Perhaps I can," Cinder declared, cutting Sunset off once again. She twirled her black glass sword in both hands. She grinned wolfishly as she went on, "But, in the circumstances, I think I'd rather fight you."

That had not been what Sunset had been hoping for, or even expecting. Her eyes widened. "You … you want this?"

"Always," Cinder whispered, her voice a gentle caress even as they discussed the prospect of more forceful contact to come. "I think that, since the night we met, there's been a part of me that has wanted this: to cross swords with you, to see which of us is the stronger. Don't you feel the same way, don't you want to find out?"

"I already know the answer," Sunset said softly. "I don't want to fight you, and I certainly don't want to fight you on the orders of that thing cowering behind you!"

"Harsh," said Sonata.

Sunset ignored her. "She … she's wrong, in what she said. You must have heard her, calling you a slave, saying that that's all you'd ever been; well, she's wrong. You're not a slave; you're more than that, so much—"

"Silence!" Cinder roared, flames springing up out of the side of her right eye. Her whole body trembled. "Do not … don't pretend, don't you dare pretend that you care about me, don't seek to play upon my feelings—"

"I do care," Sunset said. "I care about you."

"You left me!" Cinder bellowed, taking a step in Sunset's direction. Sunset retreated back a step in turn. "You…" Cinder shook her head from side to side. "You left me. I sought a death last night. A good death, a noble death—"

"There's no such thing as a noble death," Sunset muttered. "Dead is dead, and any one as cold as all the rest."

"So instead, you left me alive," Cinder growled. "To be caged, to be humiliated, to be hauled before the baying mob; instead of a swift end by a swift sword, you condemned me to a show trial and slow death for the gratification of the crowds. You left me to that. You took what you wanted, you turned around and walked away, and you left me, to—" She stopped, her whole body tensing, her face constricting into a pained snarl.

I left you to Sonata. To this.

"I … I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry, Cinder, I had no idea that … I should have realised that … I didn't want to see you die."

"You mean you didn't want my blood on your hands, but you were perfectly willing to turn your back and let it stain someone else's?" Cinder demanded. "Such care, such compassion; truly, your heart overflows with the milk of kindness."

"I am a coward, I own it, but my feelings—"

"You had more concern for Amber last night than you had for me—"

"I offered you all of myself!" Sunset yelled. "I offered myself up to you! In the Forever Fall, after we had escaped from Merlot's tunnels. Come away with me, I said; let me help you, I said; let me heal you, I said; I was going to take you to my home! I was going to leave everything behind, and everyone! FOR YOU! I offered it all to you, and you … you refused me! You!" she repeated, jabbing her finger in Cinder's direction. "You wouldn't have it, you wanted to … I don't even know what you wanted, to kill Pyrrha? To get yourself killed in the glorious old Mistralian tradition? To bend your knee and back for Salem, to do her work until she'd used you up and thrown you away? Maybe I should have let Ruby cut you open last night, maybe that would have been a kinder fate than this, but I'm not the one who decided to start a fight in the middle of the street, and I'm not the one who decided to … don't come at me like I didn't give you a chance. I gave you more than that. You made this cage for yourself as much as anyone else made it for you."

Silence fell in the darkened command centre. Cinder stared at her, eyes wide.

As her anger faded, Sunset began to realise that not all of that outburst had been particularly wise in the circumstances; however true it might have been — and it was true; whatever mistakes Sunset might have made, she wasn't about to stand there and act as though she'd never given Cinder a chance to turn things around — even a Cinder who was not in thrall to a Siren was not likely to be impressed by it.

"Cinder, I—"

"Enough," Cinder grunted. She half turned away from Sunset, clutching at her head with one hand. The fire around her eye died down and disappeared from sight. "Enough," she repeated as she looked at Sunset once again, straightened up, and gripped her glass sword in both hands once more. "Enough talk. Let us speak not with the words you weave like silver, but with our blades which do the night resemble, here in this place that is as black as night."

And my emotional state which is becoming more sable by the moment, Sunset thought.

"Siren song has not robbed you of your eloquence, then?" she asked.

If Cinder had smiled at that — or even smirked at it — then Sunset would have had hope; as it was, she only bared her teeth in Sunset's direction. She drew in a deep breath. "Goodbye, Sunset," she said.

She raised her sword up above her head.

Soteria leapt from Sunset's grip, held by telekinesis instead of hands. The green glow of Sunset's magic surrounded the hilt of the black blade, hurling it through the air towards Cinder's heart.

Cinder parried. Soteria leapt away, Sunset manoeuvring the sword with a deftness that her hands and feet could not have managed as the black blade danced around Cinder, assailing her from this direction, then from that, from above or from so far below it was swiping at Cinder's ankles; Cinder turned, ducked, dived, parried again and again; while Soteria preoccupied her, Cinder's attention was off Sunset herself.

Sunset prepared a battery of magical spears as quickly as she could; she had to be quick because though Cinder might not notice them, Sonata might, and they were aimed at Sonata. Sunset flung them when they were still half-formed, flickering spears of magic lancing through the air towards the Siren.

If Sunset could only get her, then—

Sonata yelped as the half-formed spears descended on her, throwing herself to the floor as the magical missiles slammed into the wall behind her; half-formed or not, they were still powerful enough to wreck consoles, shatter monitors, blow chunks out of the wall behind them.

Sonata scampered for the open door with the light spilling out of it. "I'll be in here if you need me!" she cried, chuckling nervously as she hurled herself through the open doorway; she didn't shut it, but Sunset lost sight of her, wherever she was in the next room.

She cursed inwardly. There goes my best chance.

She flung Soteria at Cinder once again.

Cinder caught the blade with one hand, closing her fingers around the black sword.

Sunset pulled at the ancient weapon, but Cinder had a vice-like grip around it; though the edges must be biting sharply into her aura, she clung on.

She clung on, and Sunset could see the inside of her hands begin to glow where she held the sword as Cinder used her semblance on it.

She's going to melt the sword. She's going to break it like she did Crocea Mors.

She didn't. Instead, Cinder flung Soteria back down to skid across the floor and halt at Sunset's feet.

"I'm not in the mood for cheap tricks, Sunset," she said. "And I'm not a nuisance for you to distract while you get on with your real work; right here, and now, in this place, and at this moment, I am your real work, your only work. Take this seriously. Take me seriously. I have that right."

Sunset levitated the sword back up into her hand. "Believe me," she muttered. "I'm taking you very seriously." Why do you think I wanted to cheat to try and remove the need for us to fight?

Cinder smiled, and as she smiled, the fire returned to her eyes, the corona of the Fall Maiden, or the half of the powers that Cinder had stolen. She let her sword slip into just one hand while a fire erupted in the other about a foot high, the flames flickering and dancing upon her palm.

The firelight danced in Cinder's eyes as she stared at it for a moment. "And so am I," she said as she flung the fireball at Sunset.

Sunset held up one hand, conjuring a shield around her upon which the fireball dissipated.

Cinder's black-painted lips curled upwards. She flung out her hand, and a jet of golden fire, like a dragon's flame, poured out of her hand towards Sunset. It flowed around Sunset's shield like water around a rock in the middle of the stream; it engulfed her, hiding Councillor Emerald, the command centre, and even Cinder herself from Sunset's sight. The whole world was gone; there was only the fire that surrounded her shield, that beat upon it, that sought to devour it. The shield held firm, but Sunset could feel it consuming more and more of her magic to retain it in the face of Cinder's assault.

Sunset regretted that she couldn't warn Councillor Emerald to get down; if he'd heard her, then it simply would have warned Cinder too. She burst her shield, turning it outwards in an eruption of energy that spread out in all directions, hurling the flames aside, knocking back Cinder and Councillor Emerald — Sunset hoped he wasn't too badly hurt; she could only console herself with the knowledge that he'd told her to put Vale's interests ahead of his own — and the Valish soldiers in the room with them as well, at least those that weren't too far away.

Cinder was thrown against the damaged wall behind her. Sunset started to run for the door, the door behind which Sonata waited, and while she ran, she flung bolts of magic from her fingertips, striking the Valish soldiers before they could recover themselves or get in her way; those that were down, she made sure stayed down; those that weren't down yet, she put down; even General Blackthorn fell unconscious before her magic as Sunset sprinted for the door. If she could just get to Sonata, then—

Sunset felt herself grabbed from behind, strong arms enveloping her for a moment, lifting her up off the floor — her legs kicked futilely — before throwing her aside, into the far wall of the command centre, where her head slammed into a monitor or something or other; the glass cracked before Sunset fell backwards, tail first onto the floor.

She scrambled upright to find Cinder facing her once again. She'd recovered just a tad too quickly from the blast, it seemed.

I should have teleported in there.

Teleported where? I don't know what's on the other side of that door. Besides, I wouldn't have been able to hit all the Valish soldiers if I'd done that.

Would that have mattered?

Possibly, if I couldn't deal with Sonata instantly.

"You said," Cinder growled, "that you were going to take me seriously."

"I'm not sure I can beat you," Sunset said. "Isn't that serious enough?"

Cinder raised one eyebrow. "Flattery will get you nowhere," she said. One corner of her lip rose. "But please, don't let that stop you."

Her glass sword shattered in her hand, obsidian shards swirling around her like visible air currents before some of the shards reformed into a dagger in her hand.

Cinder didn't take her eyes off Sunset for a moment as she threw the dagger, which slammed into the floor just in front of Councillor Emerald's hand as he reached for the rifle of one of the unconscious Valish soldiers.

"The next one," Cinder declared magisterially, "will go through your head. Sit still and wait for orders from your betters, you who are worthless, counting for nothing in battle or debate."

"It's alright, Councillor," Sunset said. "I've got this."

"You tell me you're not sure you can win, you tell the Councillor everything will be fine," Cinder murmured. "Hurrah for consistency."

Sunset didn't reply, except for charge at Cinder, Soteria drawn back above her head.

Cinder rushed to meet her, her own sword pulled back for a slashing stroke in turn.

The two came together like rival bulls, trampling across the field in their eagerness to reach one another, heads bowed and horns at the ready, but before the two clashed, Sunset teleported behind Cinder, letting her rush forward into empty air. Sunset turned, bringing her black sword down on Cinder's back—

Cinder turned too fast, faster than Sunset, her black hair flying around her as she spun like a top to parry Sunset's stroke. Black steel and black glass clashed with a ring before Sunset drew back. Cinder followed up, slashing at Sunset from high and then from low. Sunset managed to parry both, retreating towards the door.

Cinder seemed to look over Sunset's shoulder, noticing the door there, and she began to attack only from the left, forcing Sunset to shift rightwards, to move away from the door and towards the centre of the room.

Cinder twirled theatrically, her skirt rising as it whirled around her, purely to show that she could, that she was so fast that she could pull a stunt like that and Sunset still couldn't land a blow on her.

The worst part was she was right; she parried Sunset's attempt to take advantage of the turn with an ease that she made look effortless.

I might as well try and fight Pyrrha with the sword as try and win this way.

Sunset loosened her arms, almost willing her strength to leave them; when Cinder struck her sword, Sunset did not resist; she let Cinder sweep the blade out of her hands with a ringing stroke.

Sunset raised her hand and blasted a bolt of magic straight at Cinder's chest.

This close, Cinder had no chance of deflecting it with her semblance; it hit her squarely where Sunset meant it to, blasting Cinder backwards like a ragdoll, slamming her into the wall.

Sunset advanced on Cinder, firing a second blast from her palm, and then a third. The second hit her, making her writhe as though she'd just been shocked, but the third turned abruptly away from Cinder to burn through the wall nearby.

Cinder's teeth were bared in a vicious snarl as she launched herself at Sunset, flames burning from her hands and feet to propel her like a rocket. She closed the distance almost instantly to slam bodily into Sunset, bearing her backwards into the corridor from which Sunset had emerged not long ago. The two of them crashed into the wall, but Sunset felt as though her aura took far more of the brunt than Cinder's did. Cinder's eye was aflame, not only the corona of the Maiden, but her eye itself seemed to be burning brighter with an inner fire as she grabbed Sunset and turned her around.

Sunset struggled and squirmed in her grip, but Cinder was stronger than she was, and more physically accomplished. Sunset tried to blast her with more magic from point blank, but Cinder had her by the wrists and kept them well away from her.

Indeed, that was part of the reason she was manhandling Sunset like this, to remove her ability to use magic in that way.

Sunset found herself forced to the ground, in spite of her struggles, hands pinned down in front of her, Cinder straddling her back, one hand around Sunset's neck.

"Here comes a monster to gobble you up."

No, Cinder just wants to kill me.

Sunset felt the hand around her neck begin to burn, fire lapping at her neck, licking at her chin and at her fiery hair as if to teach it the difference between mere red and gold and real fire. Sunset squirmed, she struggled, she writhed and wriggled, but Cinder's grip was too strong, her pressure too great, Sunset could not escape.

But she could still use magic, just not in the form of direct attacks.

Her hands glowed green; if Cinder noticed, then she didn't react; perhaps she felt that burning through Sunset's aura was the best response she could make.

Sunset fumbled with her telekinesis as the flames devoured her protection. She could feel it dropping, feel the heat of the fire, feel the discomfort that was nevertheless only a fraction of the discomfort that she would feel if her aura broke. So she groped with her magic, feeling for the guns of the Valish soldiers where they lay on the ground.

She felt them, a rifle, and then another. Sunset winced at the heat that licked at her neck as she lifted the rifles up into the air and aimed them, she hoped, at Cinder.

Telekinetically, she pulled the triggers.

Bullets thudded into the floor; it was hard to aim properly without being able to see what she was aiming at, but Sunset could tell by her wincing that at least some of the rounds were hitting home.

Cinder let go of Sunset's neck, and Sunset felt the Valish guns ripped from her telekinesis and flung across the command centre; Sunset guessed that Cinder had hit them with a wave of fire, the impact force of her magic overwhelming Sunset's own.

But just as Sunset's magical grip on the guns was lost, Cinder's physical grip on Sunset's wrists had also loosened a little, loosened enough for her to free her right hand.

She grabbed hold of her own left wrist and, with a touch of her aura, activated the last remaining lightning dust infused into the metal vambrace.

There wasn't a lot in there — she hadn't had the opportunity to replace the dust that she'd already used; it wasn't as much as there normally would have been — but it was enough, enough to see yellow lightning rippling up Cinder's arm, snapping and snarling and tearing at her aura. It was enough to make her recoil, jerking and twitching.

It was enough to let Sunset throw her off, rolling away as she fired another bolt of magic from her palm. Cinder managed to dodge that one, letting the magic fly past her shoulder into the ceiling, but it was enough of a distraction to let Sunset put some distance between the two of them.

Sunset summoned Soteria into her right hand and then put her telekinesis to work frantically undoing the strap that kept her left — and now wholly discharged — vambrace on.

Cinder summoned her glass weapons back into her hands, forming two blades now instead of one: a pair of glass scimitars. Flames leapt up both swords, the obsidian half concealed beneath the flickering flames.

Cinder was smiling as she charged, one sword ahead, the other drawn back for a sideways slashing stroke.

Sunset threw the vambrace at her telekinetically. Cinder swatted it aside with a sweep of her sword.

Sunset teleported away from Cinder before she reached her, reappearing with a flash in the mouth of the corridor. Cinder turned on her, her smile fading a little, snorting with irritation.

She charged again. Sunset had time to take her glove off her left hand and let it fall to the floor.

One hand gloved, one hand bare, she gripped the hilt of Soteria.

Cinder sprang at her as furiously as a tiger, slashing with this sword and then that, hurling herself against Sunset with wild abandon. She didn't bother to defend herself, she seemed to have no fear that Sunset would break through her guard, she simply attacked and attacked and relied upon her speed and strength to keep Sunset at bay.

And she was not wrong to do so. She was so swift, and every blow that Sunset parried jarred her arm. Sunset retreated into the wall and had to teleport again to open up more space between Cinder and herself, but Cinder just attacked her there once more, and the pattern resumed. Worse, with every blow that Cinder struck, every time one of Cinder's burning blades clashed with Soteria, Cinder caused the flames of the sword to burst outwards, momentarily consuming Soteria and singeing Sunset's aura a little.

Sunset was very definitely on the backfoot, she could not match Cinder with the sword, she had no hope of matching it, it was just not where her skills lay.

But if only Cinder's confidence was to rise a little higher; surely, she had to be exultant by now; surely, she had to see that the victory was nearly hers.

There was a light in Cinder's eyes as she drew back both swords at once, the burning blades nearly touching her hair before she slammed them down in simultaneous slashes across Sunset's chest.

Sunset parried the stroke, the burning swords slamming into Soteria like waves into the sea wall.

Now was her chance. Sunset let go of the sword with her left hand — her bare hand — and grabbed at Cinder's hand.

Cinder dropped one sword and grabbed Sunset's outstretched wrist, around the sleeve of her jacket, so that their skin didn't touch. The flames died from the glass sword as it hit the floor between them.

Sunset grunted, she pushed against Cinder's grip, trying to reach her hand or her face, but Cinder's hold on her was as iron.

Sunset tried to kick Cinder's leg, but Cinder shuffled her foot aside, and the kick didn't land.

Cinder's glass sword collapsed into fragments, fragments that flew up in the air, dancing round Sunset like torn up paper caught by a breeze, nipping and biting at her aura. Sunset winced, but she couldn't move because Cinder held her fast.

Cinder's hand began to burn.

Not again!

Sunset couldn't reach Cinder's face, she couldn't touch the skin of her hand, but if she held her hand palm down, then she could fire a smattering of magical bolts out of her fingertips to hit Cinder in the ankle, around her anklet.

Where Sunset's foot had failed, her magic did not; the bolts struck home, Cinder recoiled her glass-clad foot and was momentarily off balance.

Sunset lunged forward, slamming into Cinder, knocking her off her remaining foot as they both fell down to the ground.

Sunset hammered Cinder in the face with Soteria. Cinder let go of Sunset's hand. Sunset reached for Cinder; she could use her semblance to—

A gunshot rang out, followed by Councillor Emerald howling in pain.

Sunset's head snapped up, her eyes widening.

Sonata stood over General Blackthorn's unconscious form, a pistol in her hand.

Councillor Emerald lay against the wall, clutching his side, groaning in pain.

Sunset raised her hand.

Sonata looked at her, and a beam of raspberry light leapt from her mouth and slammed into Sunset. It hit her with all the force of a charging goliath, it was so powerful. It lifted Sunset clean up, away from Cinder, carrying her through the air and slamming her into the wall. Sunset shattered all the consoles and the monitors upon her impact, and the sparks and the short outs bit her aura as she sunk down to the floor.

She can do that? None of the books said anything about her being able to do that.

Sonata's eyes gleamed, and so too did the large red gem, the size of a playing card; it glowed in the dark room.

She opened her mouth, and another beam burst forth to slam into Sunset's chest. Sunset cried out as the beam, the incredibly strong beam, burned through her aura until it broke, a green light rippling across Sunset's skin.

There was a burn mark on her cuirass, just beneath the setting sun emblem, where Sonata hadn't stopped until just after Sunset's aura broke.

"That was a little too close," Sonata said.

Cinder climbed to her feet. "You interrupted!"

"To help you out!" Sonata said. "You were losing! Again!"

"I was not beaten yet," Cinder insisted. "I was going to turn the battle around; her magic was … her life was mine to take."

"Then take it," Sonata said, gesturing to Sunset. "I still need him sort of alive," she added, gesturing to Councillor Emerald. "But her? I don't need her alive at all. So have at it. Do whatever you want with her."

Sunset raised her hand. Her aura was broken, but her magic was not; she fired a bolt straight at Sonata.

It was turned away by Cinder's semblance, disappearing into the corridor beyond the room.

Cinder didn't look at Sunset. "You … you want me to end her?"

"Mistress," Sonata said, softly but with an undercurrent of danger in her voice.

Cinder's jaw tightened. "You want me to finish her for you, Mistress?"

"Uh huh," Sonata said. "And afterwards, see if you can wake up General Blackthorn; I kinda need him on his feet."

Cinder stalked towards Sunset with a slinking gait, hips swinging, feet crossing over one another, looking like a cross between a catwalk model and a lioness stalking the high plains.

Sunset could not take her eyes off her. Was this it? Was this how she was going to die?

Am I going to lose because I didn't realise how powerful Sirens could be?

If I die here, if Cinder kills me like this, then… Sunset glanced at Councillor Emerald, his hand pressed against his side, blood seeping out from between his fingers. Then Councillor Emerald will die too, and Bramble will grow up without a father.

And anyway, I … I don't want to die.

To die would be … just awful.

She conjured up a shield around herself, a protective bubble of green magic between her and harm.

Cinder's eyebrows rose. "Come, friend, you too must die," she said.

"Eventually, but not yet!" Sunset squawked.

A spear appeared in Cinder's hand, a spear of flame, of fire given form, glass abandoned for now in favour of a weapon of pure magic. It was crudely made, but from what Sunset could make out of its shape, it almost resembled Miló.

That meant something, but Sunset was in no mood to try and puzzle out exactly what it meant.

Cinder held the weapon in one hand, like a javelin, poised to thrust it down upon Sunset's shield.

She closed her eyes, though the flaming corona of the Fall Maiden still burned in her right eye. She scowled and, with her free hand, clutched at her head as though she had been seized by a sudden headache.

Cinder's body trembled.

Yes. Yes, Cinder, come on. Fight it, I know you can.

"Cinder," Sunset whispered. "Cinder?"

Cinder opened her eyes. "I suppose we'll never know which of us was the stronger now, will we?"

Sunset opened her mouth a moment before she managed to get any words out. "Considering our relative positions right now … some might call it settled."

"Some," Cinder acknowledged. "But not I. You see…" She drew back her fiery spear, and took a step back with one foot, her whole body poised to throw.

Cinder spun on one glass-clad toe, whirling around to throw the spear of fire at Sonata. It struck her in the back and side, piercing her through and through, its fiery tip emerging out of her stomach.

Sunset's eyes widened.

Sonata didn't cry out. She didn't scream or shriek. She barely let out a gasp of breath leaving her. She made as if to clutch at the spear, but didn't quite, her hands almost closing around the weapon but not quite managing it.

She collapsed to her knees, a squeaky sound like a thin reed emerging from between her lips.

Cinder stalked across the command centre towards her. She knelt down beside her, one hand upon Sonata's shoulder. "I was defeated by Pyrrha Nikos," she whispered into her ear. "I was defeated by Team Sapphire. And thanks to you, I was denied my victory over Sunset. But Lo! I have triumphed over you at least, Mistress."

Sunset couldn't see Sonata's face, but found that she could imagine the look of shock the Siren must surely be wearing now, assuming that she could comprehend her position through the pain.

As for Sunset, she dispelled the shield and climbed, only a little unsteadily, to her feet. She kept her eyes on Cinder and Sonata even as she sidestepped her way towards Councillor Emerald. There was a first aid kit on the wall, and it hadn't been broken by the amount of crashing around and slamming into things that Sunset and Cinder had been doing, so Sunset levitated it into her hand as she approached the Councillor.

Cinder's spear disappeared, dissolving into nothingness, the magic that sustained it dissipated. Sonata fell forwards onto her face. Cinder rolled her onto her back. One of the Siren's hands clutched futilely at her injury, the other reached for Cinder as her lips moved.

Cinder batted her hand away contemptuously. "You seem to be having a little trouble speaking," she observed. "Good. I am no one's slave. I am no one's puppet. I am Cinder Fall, and I am…" Cinder trailed off, without saying what she was.

Sonata's hand dropped to the floor.

Cinder blinked and shook her head violently from side to side. She glanced at Sunset, there was no trace of green left in her eyes, there was only amber there now, and then looked back down at Sonata Dusk, lying unmoving before her.

"Do you mock me now?" Cinder asked softly. She raised her voice, yelling, "DO YOU MOCK ME NOW?" She roared wordlessly and kicked Sonata in the ribs. She grabbed at the spiked collar around her neck, pulling and tugging at it, tearing it in half as she wrenched it from around her throat and flung it down on the floor beside Sonata. Then she kicked the body once again.

"Do you mock me now?" Cinder demanded for the third time. "You bleeding piece of earth, I am…" Once more, she trailed off. She tossed her head and ran one hand through hair that had become a little bedraggled.

"Sunset," she said, "I—"

"Cinder, there is normally nothing I would like better than to bandy words with you, but I'm a little busy right now," Sunset muttered. She had the first aid kit open in front of her, and both her hands — she had pulled the blue sterile gloves on over both her hands, for both good hygiene and her semblance — were on Councillor Emerald, gently moving him away from the wall so that she had a little space. She took his jacket off, trying to be as gentle as she could despite the need for haste, and then her hands began to glow green as she used telekinesis to work more swiftly than her fingers could have: unbuttoning the Councillor's shirt, lifting out a sterile dressing in its sealed plastic wrapper, and a safety pin too.

The Councillor's injury was bad. There was no getting around that; he had a nasty-looking hole in the side of his belly, and it was bleeding. What was worse, Sunset thought that the bullet was still in there; there was no blood on the back of his shirt as she took it off.

Someone was going to get the bullet out if he was to have any chance, but it wasn't going to be Sunset, and it wasn't going to be here.

"What I'm going to do, Councillor," she said to him, "is hopefully stop the bleeding, and then that ought to hold you until I get you to a doctor. Someone who can get that bullet out without doing even more damage."

Councillor Emerald looked pale. There was sweat on his brow; in fact, it was all over his face. His chest rose and fell.

"Yes, well," Cinder murmured, "I'll leave you to get on with that then, shall I? Goodbye, Sunset." She started to walk away, her glass slippers tapping on the floor.

"Wait!" Sunset shouted. "Where are you going?"

"To be revenged!" Cinder called out as she disappeared from view around the corner. "On the whole pack of them!"

Whole pack of who? Not me, it seems, but Pyrrha? Amber? Or do you just mean Tempest Shadow and Bon Bon, if you still say they're Salem's agents? Who are you going to try and kill next, should I be worried?

Sunset shook her head. She had other things to worry about now, more immediate concerns than what Cinder might do if — and it was a big if — she could get out of here.

Telekinetically, she tore open the bandage pack and levitated out both pad and bandage. She pressed the pad against Councillor Emerald's wound, pressing it hard enough that the bleeding stopped, or at least didn't get any further than the white pad itself. She began to wrap the bandage around his middle.

"Go," Councillor Emerald said, his voice hoarse but audible.

"'Go'?" Sunset repeated. "Yes, Councillor, we're going to go as soon as I've done this—"

"Go after her," Councillor Emerald said.

Sunset was almost surprised enough to stop working. Fortunately, she didn't, but it was a close run thing. "Go after … you mean after Cinder?"

Councillor Emerald nodded. "Stop her. Before she can … you have to stop her."

"No, what I need to do is get you to someone with real medical training," Sunset said. "Which I will in just a second." She finished wrapping the bandage around the Councillor, wrapping it several times around for good measure before using the safety pin to pin it in place. It was rough work, and not nearly adequate for a gunshot wound, but it was the best she could do at the moment. A specialist would take over soon enough.

"Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald said, his voice almost a growl. "You promised me that—"

"That I would put the good of Vale over your life, yes, Councillor, I've not forgotten," Sunset said. "But, to run through three points very quickly: first, my aura is broken, and Cinder's is not, so any renewal of fight between us would be a very one-sided affair; two, she's a better fighter than I am, and my … particular skills might not make up the shortfall in that regard, especially with no aura; third and finally and most importantly, it is my earnest, sincere, and unbiased judgement that the good of Vale is better served by the survival of its First Councillor than by preventing Cinder from getting up to whatever nonsense she has in mind at the moment, and since I'm the one who isn't currently bleeding to death, it's my judgement that we'll be following in this instance." She began to pull his shirt and jacket back on, leaving the buttons unfastened but with at least something to preserve a degree of modesty until they reached a hospital.

She wasn't actually that worried about Cinder; at least, she wasn't worried about Cinder on behalf of Vale. She wasn't sure who, exactly, Cinder was going after, but she was certain that Cinder didn't aim to bring down Vale or bring about carnage in the streets. Even if Sunset hadn't been so sure of that, the danger to Vale would have had to have been very great indeed for her to have prioritised stopping Cinder over saving Councillor Emerald's life. Kingdoms needed leadership, after all, they could survive body blows more readily than they could survive being without a head, and that need for leadership went double for places that had already suffered bodyblows. Vale was going to be in enough confusion tomorrow morning without the death of the First Councillor to contend with.

In this instance, Sunset was fortunate that a cold-blooded pragmatism such as Ruby might have been proud of dovetailed in perfect harmony with her natural inclinations.

"So let's hear no more about that," Sunset added as she took hold of the Councillor's arm and pulled it over her shoulder. She started to stand up, pulling Councillor Emerald up with her; the weight was harder to bear without aura to enhance her strength, but she just about managed it. "And let's get you—"

"Not yet," Councillor Emerald said. "I need … I need to address the people, address the kingdom." He paused for a moment. "Is it done, Miss Shimmer? Is it … the magic, is it—?"

"Broken?" Sunset asked. "I think so, yes; I'd be amazed if it wasn't. Alright then, Councillor, they said the cameras were through here, didn't they?"

She half-helped, half-dragged Councillor Emerald across the room, trying her best for his sake to avoid the unconscious forms of the Valish soldiers — and the dead body of Sonata Dusk. What would all the soldiers think when they woke up, General Blackthorn and all the rest? Would they remember what they had done? What would they think of themselves tomorrow?

She couldn't know the answers, and ultimately, there was little enough time to ponder them.

Sunset pushed the door open into the next room, which was largely bare except for a bright lighting set up designed to throw light upwards into the face of whoever was standing in front of the camera set on a tripod just before the lights. Wires ran out of the camera down to a laptop set on a little table on the floor.

Sunset grabbed the laptop telekinetically, levitating it over to her as she helped Councillor walk around both lights and camera until he was standing in front of the camera, in the full glare of the lights which shone in both their faces.

In the laptop screen, Sunset could see what the camera was seeing: both Councillor Emerald and Sunset herself, although her face was not wholly in the frame, there was enough of her to make out who it was, and that she was supporting Councillor Emerald, although you couldn't see his wound; the camera didn't go that far down.

As far as Sunset could tell, and admittedly, she wasn't an expert in this kind of programme, everything was set up to go; all she had to do was push the right button, and they would hijack the CCT feed just the way that General Blackthorn had before. Or rather, they would activate the emergency broadcast system, which didn't sound as sinister.

"Are you ready, Councillor?"

Councillor Emerald nodded. "I believe so."

"Then you are on," Sunset said. "In three, two, one." She pushed the button. "Go."

Councillor Emerald took a deep breath. "People of Vale," he declared, unable to disguise the shortness of his breath, the pain in his voice. "My name is Aspen Emerald, your First Councillor. I am addressing you, from the headquarters of the Valish, Defence Forces. There is no cause, for panic. The attempt…" Councillor Emerald closed his eyes. "It appears that, General Blackthorn and his senior officers, have begun to suffer from a kind of, mass delirium, the origins of which, are as yet, unknown, but will be investigated, as the highest priority of the Council, once the current exigencies, are over. It was General Blackthorn, in the grip of this delusional state, who tried to discredit me, by releasing malicious, and false information, regarding my involvement in the Breach, and that of Miss Shimmer. But I will not allow, the legitimate, civilian government, to be overthrown, especially not by a group suffering, from poor mental health. I have relieved General Blackthorn, of his command, and detained him, for his own safety, and the safety of others, until his condition and those, of his fellow officers, can be properly investigated, and treated with all due care, and attention. As First Councillor, I order all units to disregard, any orders issued, by General Blackthorn, to cease hostilities against the Atlesians, and to return to barracks, or to their positions, defending our city. To General Ironwood, I ask that you cease hostilities against us, and accept my heartfelt apologies, for any losses incurred, by your forces at the hands, of confused and misled elements of, the military. People of Vale, I tell you, there is no curfew. There is…" Councillor Emerald stopped, bowing his head, screwing his eyes tight shut.

Is this too much? Sunset thought. Should I cut the feed now?

Councillor Emerald opened his eyes again. "I won't tell you that there is nothing to fear. I must confess that there are things to be afraid of. A grimm horde has mustered outside our walls, and its attacks on Vale, have already begun. For that, reason, I am ordering an immediate, evacuation of the outer limits, behind the safety, of the city walls. Take only, what you need, and move with haste.

"But our enemies, lie outside the walls, not within. Our enemies are monsters, not men. I have no doubt that our huntsmen, whose skill has been amply demonstrated, in the recent tournament, supported by our Atlesian allies, and by our loyal defence forces, will, with the courage and good heart for which we Valish are well known, deliver our city from all perils. Have courage. Have heart. And have hope, the darkness will not endure. It will be morning in Vale once more soon enough. Thank you." He looked at Sunset.

Sunset took that as her cue to cut the broadcast.

"Well said, in the circumstances, Councillor," she said, as she let the laptop drop to the floor with a clatter. "But are you really going to make General Blackthorn take all the blame for this?"

"'Blame'?" Councillor Emerald murmured. "No, not blame. Pity, in all probability, for his … condition. But better to be pitied than to be blamed, no? I'm afraid some consequence … regrettable, but unavoidable, the moment he became, the face of this … the face of this. Hopefully, some way can be found for him, to be successfully treated and to slip away into obscurity."

"I suppose," Sunset muttered. "He'll probably need some kind of treatment once he comes around."

Councillor Emerald hung his head. "Will he remember what he has done?"

"I'm not entirely certain," Sunset admitted. "The books didn't cover that part, although Cinder seems to remember well enough. Anyway, all of that … it can wait. It doesn't matter right now. Stay with me, Councillor, just a little longer, while I get you to help." She began to help him back towards the door; they would go back the way they had come, if only because that was the way that Sunset knew. "You're going to be fine, Councillor, just fine.

"Stay with me."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Comfort

​

"Talk to me, Councillor," Sunset said, as she helped Councillor Emerald move down the dark corridor away from the command centre. She was taking him — helping him, if you preferred — towards the elevator, back the way that they had come. With good fortune … no, not with good fortune; it was the way that it was going to be, the way that it had to be; with Sonata dead, the spell would be broken — some spells could sustain themselves after the death of the one who cast them, simple transfigurations, spells applied as part of potion-making, that sort of thing; not mind control, or even emotional alteration in its milder form — and everyone that Sonata had charmed with the magic of her Siren voice would come to their senses. They might be confused or disoriented; they might wonder what they had done, they might even be suffering from memory loss — a blessing for some, in the circumstances – but they would not start shooting at Sunset and Councillor Emerald.

They would have no cause to do so now. Unless they decided to shoot an intruder on sight, but even then, the First Councillor could hardly be called an intruder in an official Valish government building, could he?

Not now that the soldiers who might have sought to keep him out were free, however discomfiting that freedom might be to them.

Discomfiting or not, discomfiting to a great or small degree, surely, it was preferable to slavery?

It was preferable, with no 'surely' about it. That was what Cinder had understood, even in the throes of Sonata's enchantment herself, and that which had given herself the will to fight back and, in so doing, free everyone else from the Siren song.

Huh. Hadn't thought about it quite like that before. She might not have intended it, Sunset was absolutely certain that she had not intended it, but nevertheless, Cinder had saved everyone by killing Sonata.

She was a much bigger hero tonight than Sunset, and depending on what Pyrrha and Rainbow Dash and the rest were doing, she might be the biggest hero of the night so far.

It would have brought a smile to Sunset's face, and a chuckle too, under less serious circumstances. As it was, she could not help but wonder if Cinder realised, and what she made or would make of it if she did.

She could not dwell on such thoughts, however; if she spent too long in her own head amongst such imaginings, then she would become lost in them for good, and that wouldn't do, not now. Not when she had Councillor Emerald to take care of.

Their steps were slow; certainly, they were slower than they had been on their way down here; Sunset's lack of aura and the Councillor's gunshot wound were slowing them down. But they would get there, they would get there in the end, provided that Councillor Emerald could hold on until then. He wasn't in any state to ride on Sunset's bike, and she wasn't in the mood to trust any Valish Defence Force troops to drive her, even if they had all been freed from Sonata's control, but there were the Atlesians up in the courtyard too, and they had airships; assuming that they hadn't both been destroyed in the battle, she could get one of them to give them a ride to the nearest hospital.

Councillor Emerald just had to hold on until then. She'd staunched the bleeding, so he wasn't going to bleed to death, but … first aid didn't get the attention at Beacon that it probably should, let alone anything more advanced than that. Aura could make huntsmen a bit complacent, especially when you had Jaune on your team. All of which was to say that Sunset didn't know exactly how bad it was that Councillor Emerald had a bullet in him other than that it was bad.

It was bad, but hopefully, he could pull through. He had to pull through.

Was he going to pass out? Sunset didn't know, but she was afraid he might. You could pass out from the pain, after all; she'd done it herself, which didn't make it a good thing. That was why she had to keep him talking, keep him thinking, not allow him to just slip away from her.

"Talk to me, Councillor, come on," Sunset repeated. "Please, just … tell me about that toy that you brought for Bramble, tell me about that Amity Colosseum, that sounds pretty cool."

Councillor Emerald made a sound that was somewhere between a grunt and a snort. "It had better be, the lien I paid for it."

"How many lien?" Sunset asked.

"I'm almost embarrassed to say."

"Don't be like that, Councillor," Sunset said. "Isn't any amount of money worth it if it makes your son smile?"

"What a twee sentiment."

Sunset laughed. "Well … yes, and from my lips, I admit it may sound a little … insincere, but believe me, there are people who could make it sound incredibly earnest and undeniably true. Although, to be frank, I should tell you that those same people would probably also say that money can't buy happiness, and you'd believe that too." She stopped, because the Councillor was supposed to be talking, not her.

Except that Councillor Emerald declined to talk. Sunset turned her head, fearing that he might have lost consciousness, but found that no, he was awake, his eyes were open, albeit looking down at the ground, and he was still breathing.

"Councillor," Sunset prompted him. "I know that we didn't exactly get off to the best start, but I'd hope that we've been through enough tonight that you can share with me the embarrassing amount of money you spent on a toy. Think of it … think of it as a show of your devotion to Bramble."

Councillor Emerald glanced at her, a slight touch of incredulity in his green eyes.

"It is a yardstick, no?" Sunset asked.

Councillor Emerald drew in a breath, wincing as he did so. "Four hundred lien," he said.

Sunset's eyebrows rose. "'Four hundred lien'? That is … admittedly, a lot for a toy, but not as much as your hemming and hawing and your embarrassment led me to expect."

"It's enough, don't you think?" Councillor Emerald asked.

"It will be," Sunset replied. "If he likes it."

Councillor Emerald made another sort of snorting sound. "He'd better," he muttered. He paused, breathing deeply in and out, and as he breathed, he made a squeaky wheezing sound. "He's been so excited about this. This last month it's been, all that he can talk about. Perhaps all that he can, think about. Getting him to do his, homework, was a trial." He paused. "Albeit, a trial for Mrs. Hughes, more than myself." Another pause. "My wife," he said. "She told me once that, she was never worried about me having affairs, but that politics itself was a, formidable rival, indeed. I haven't been what you might call a, present father. Not as much as I…"

Sunset didn't know what the Councillor had meant to say next. Not as much as he should have? Or not as much as he had wanted to? "Councillor?"

"I haven't always been there," Councillor Emerald said. "I suppose expensive gifts are, no substitute, but—"

"But that doesn't mean they don't mean anything," Sunset told him. "I was raised by someone who had the weight of the community upon her shoulders, urgent matters requiring her attention, often very busy. And while the gifts, the fine quality gifts, the probably expensive gifts … while they were never as valuable to me as the actual time that we spent together, the fact that she knew me well enough to know that I'd like them, the fact that she cared enough to go to the trouble … that meant something too, and I was very appreciative."

"Was this," Councillor Emerald murmured, "in Equestria?"

Sunset was silent for a moment. "You, uh … you heard that, huh?"

"I'm not unfamiliar with the word," Councillor Emerald said. "But that girl seemed to be putting it to some uses with which I am unfamiliar. You're like her, aren't you? A magical creature?"

"Not exactly," Sunset replied. "I can't sing a song and make everyone love me." She chuckled darkly. "If I could do that, my life would have been infinitely easier — and infinitely poorer besides, not that I'd have realised that. But … yes, Councillor, I am a creature of magic. What you — what the world — took to be my very versatile semblance is actually magical power."

"Extraordinary," Councillor Emerald murmured. "So … if you are not a Siren, then—"

"A unicorn," Sunset said. "I am a unicorn."

Councillor Emerald paused. "You seem to be missing a couple of legs. And a horn."

"There are places, Councillor, where I have both," Sunset replied.

"In Equestria?" said Councillor Emerald.

"Yes, Councillor, in Equestria," Sunset replied. "A place where, I am not afraid to say, ordinary human eyes cannot go."

"You make it sound like a fairyland," Councillor Emerald said. "Like the Ever After."

"That's not the worst comparison," Sunset told him. "And who knows? Maybe the Ever After is real, maybe there's a Goblin Market in the sewers under Vale, maybe the fair folk dance in the forgotten places of the Forever Fall and if you listen closely you can hear their music, as Percy and Tristan did. Who's to say otherwise?"

"People who have been there and hear nothing?" suggested Councillor Emerald.

"Ah, but you see, they don't really want to be heard," Sunset said. "Or maybe not. Maybe you're right. All I can say is that, however much it may sound like a fairytale, I come from a place like the Ever After, except a little different, and so is … so was Sonata."

Equestria was not quite like the Ever After which, more than Alyx herself, was the real star of The Girl Who Fell Through the World, but — unless you wanted to make a stand on Equestria being real and the Ever After not — they were not so different that Sunset felt as though she were lying to Councillor Emerald. She was, perhaps, misdirecting him a little bit, encouraging him to think that Equestria was somewhere he could never reach so there was no point in looking, but that wasn't something that touched her conscience. Councillor Emerald was a good man, and a man who wanted the best for his people, but he wasn't a close friend to her, and she didn't trust him in quite the same way that she trusted Professor Ozpin, so shading the truth in some minor aspects wasn't something that she felt guilty about.

"I … see," Councillor Emerald said softly. "May I ask … who else knows about this?"

"My closest friends," Sunset said. "And Professor Ozpin."

"Ozpin," Councillor Emerald. "I suppose, I can understand why you wouldn't want to shout about it. We are not … always the most welcoming people."

Sunset didn't reply to that. Councillor Emerald didn't need her to tell him that he was correct on that score. Even a faunus in his position, exalted as it was, even someone who had risen to occupy the highest office in the land had probably dealt with some discrimination on his way up, even if he didn't want to make a big issue of it.

He was probably still dealing with it. Now that the subject had been raised, Sunset couldn't help but wonder if his faunusness might be a hindrance to Councillor Emerald in attempting to manage the situation that he had been handed in the days to come.

"Can I … can I ask you something that may seem a little personal, or impertinent, Councillor?" asked Sunset.

"You intrigue me enough that I have to say yes," Councillor Emerald replied.

"Does it worry you that…" — Sunset hesitated for a moment — "that your position tomorrow will be in greater danger because you're a faunus?"

Councillor Emerald took a moment before he replied, either thinking or catching his breath or both together. "It has, crossed my mind," he admitted. "When I took office, there were those who … confined to social media, thank goodness, anonymous and bilious and spewing hate, said I was in league with the White Fang, that I was their agent, that I'd hand control of Vale over to my 'mates.' Appalling stuff, but thankfully nobody, dared to say anything, like that aloud. I hoped that, it would all go away, with time, and with results. But now … I'm afraid they'll be back, and their voices, will be louder than before." He closed his eyes for a moment. "But, if I am thrown out over this, we must remember that, poor old Novo was defenestrated, despite being a human, so you know, it isn't really, about race, it's about democracy. The people do not have, much patience, with leaders who, they think are floundering. But I will not resign. I have no reason to resign. I shall battle on, and hope that, from this crisis, emerges a new spirit, of Valish unity. I hope that people will, rally round the flag, and the Council." He groaned. "If I survive."

"You're going to survive Councillor, you're absolutely going to survive, I guarantee it," Sunset insisted. "I promise it, just like I promised Bramble that I'd keep you safe. Don't think about any other outcome, don't worry that you haven't made a will or said goodbye or anything like that, just remember that I'm going to get you help. Think about Bramble, think about how you're going to give him that toy. Was it worth the money, do you think? I have to admit, I'm not sure about the point of a flying Amity Arena. I know that it does fly, but won't it be out of reach?"

Councillor Emerald shook his head, his magnificent antlers swaying from side to side. "The man in the shop, who I admit was very keen to sell it to me, gave me a demonstration. It only goes about a foot up off the floor, you can make it go as high as two feet, but that uses up the gravity dust, much faster. So, on the normal setting, Bramble will still be capable of standing up, and looking down, into the arena. It opens up, as well."

"'Opens up'?" Sunset asked.

Councillor Emerald nodded. "It isn't, entirely to scale," he said. "The stands are smaller than they ought to be, and the battlefield is bigger than it should be. There are only, about … ten rows, maybe twelve rows of spectator stands, and all the spectators, are moulded to their seats, so that they don't fall out, and get lost or trodden on, when the arena opens up. And the promenade, the outer parts, are not there at all. Just arches, and stickers to make it look like a bustling promenade. So I'm afraid, if anyone wanted to model, your friends taking down the White Fang, they couldn't."

"My what?" Sunset asked. "Councillor, did you say something about the White Fang?"

Councillor Emerald glanced at her. "You didn't know?"

"Didn't know what?"

"You didn't know about the White Fang?"

"No, Councillor, I didn't know about the White Fang; I've been busy," Sunset said, with a touch of impatience entering her voice. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, it turned out to be nothing much, some White Fang infiltrators got on the Amity Arena today, before all this started," Councillor Emerald said. "Tried to kill a couple of Atlas students, I believe. Friends of yours, I think, those famous faunus."

"Blake?" Sunset asked. "Blake and Rainbow Dash."

"Exactly," Councillor Emerald murmured. "Those two. They fought them off, and I understand that all the White Fang were taken into custody, and handed over to the VPD. I'm not sure why they did it. I'm not sure that anyone is sure."

"It doesn't make much sense," Sunset murmured. "Blake and Rainbow have done more to advance the cause of the faunus, or at least to strike back against the oppression of the faunus, than anyone in … why try and kill them? Of all the people, of all the things that the White Fang could be doing … maybe they're jealous?"

"'Jealous'?"

"Envy can be a powerful motive, Councillor, believe you me," Sunset said. "They're alright, aren't they?"

"Your friends?"

"Yes."

"I think so, yes," Councillor Emerald said. "Ironwood told me it had all been handled, no fuss, no bother, no reason to cancel the tournament or anything like that."

"I'm glad," Sunset said. "Yes, I'm glad. Not that the White Fang had much chance; it was stupid of them to go after them in the arena — mind you, I'm not sure there would have been many places in Vale it wouldn't have been stupid to go after them. But tell me about this opening up, Councillor, what does that mean?"

"You still want to talk about that toy?"

"I think it's something that you have to do most of the talking about, Councillor, so speak up and spill."

Councillor Emerald gave a very slight chuckle. "It's quite simple really. The sides of the arena, the walls, they open up. They're on hinges, and while they fasten together, four sides, with plastic clips, you can pull them apart, they fall back, so that it's like a … it's like a flower you see, with four petals, and then a round … filament, is that the word, the battlefield itself is the filament in the centre. That way, Bramble won't have to reach awkwardly down, to move the figures, around the battlefield, and have them fight each other. It has biomes, you know."

"Really?"

"Yes, and I'm not just talking about fixed surfaces, either," Councillor Emerald said. "It's all stored in the bottom, and they come up out of the floor, just like in real matches."

"Really?" Sunset squawked. "Seriously?"

"Apparently it's based, on the technology, that lets huntsmen transform their weapons."

"I'm beginning to think that four hundred lien was cheap for all this," Sunset muttered. "Do the biomes … do they change? Does the lava field shoot lava, and—"

"It's all coloured water, so as not to hurt the children," Councillor Emerald said. "Or melt the figures. But they do shoot up, out of the floor."

"This is an Atlesian toy, I take it?" Sunset said.

"Miss Shimmer," Councillor Emerald replied. "As a representative, of the Kingdom of Vale, I'm very offended."

Sunset turned her head to get a better look at him.

"But you happen to be right," admitted Councillor Emerald, as sheepishly as someone in his position could admit anything.

Sunset smiled. "Well, Atlesian or not, I'm sure Bramble will be thrilled with it. Especially if you have a good selection of the right teams for him to play with."

"Yes," Councillor Emerald murmured. "The right teams."

Sunset didn't press him on the point of which teams he'd bought; she didn't need to have her ego stroked thus. Instead, she asked him, "Have you wrapped it?"

"Wrapped it?"

"A toy as grand as this deserves a little effort made in handing it over, don't you think?"

"Miss Shimmer, I've been shot trying to preserve this city for future generations," Councillor Emerald reminded her. "That is all the effort that I have it in me to make at present."

"I suppose you've got the right to take that line, Councillor, if anyone does," Sunset conceded. "But all the same, it hardly seems like the kind of thing you should just hand him the box and 'here you go, son' before you leave—"

Lights flashed in Sunset's eyes, lights shining out of the darkness of the corridor down which they trudged, lights mounted on rifles held by Atlesian soldiers or held in the hands of the two Atlesian Specialists who led them out.

"Who goes there?" demanded one of them, the short woman with the power fists on her arms who Sunset had seen fighting earlier. With her was the tall man with the movie-star good looks and the fishing rod. Of their other comrades, the big woman or the bearded man who had been attacked by the robot, there was no sign amongst the ordinary Atlesian soldiers who followed behind the Specialists.

"Don't shoot!" Sunset cried, raising one hand. "This is Councillor Emerald, this is the First Councillor of Vale!"

The Atlesian soldiers kept their rifles trained on Sunset and Councillor Emerald, even as the two Specialists advanced on them. They lowered their flashlights, so that they weren't shining directly in Sunset's eyes, even as they still lit up the dark and gloomy corridor.

"She's right," the man said. "It is the Valish Councillor."

"He doesn't look too good," the woman muttered.

"Sir?" the man asked. "Sir, are you hurt?"

"He's been shot," Sunset explained. "I've stopped the bleeding, but … he needs a doctor, a hospital."

"'Shot'?" cried a Valish officer, with crowns on his shoulders, who pushed his way past the Atlesian soldiers to join the Specialists in front of Sunset and Councillor Emerald. "Councillor? Councillor Emerald, can you hear me?"

"No need to shout, Sky Beak, I can hear you," Councillor Emerald murmured. "Although it is, good to hear your voice."

Sky Beak let out a ragged sigh. "And good to hear yours, Councillor. As good as it was to hear your broadcast just a moment ago. You look…" He trailed off, presumably unable to say honestly that the First Councillor looked well or anything close to it.

"Awful," Councillor Emerald muttered. "I look awful, don't I?"

Sky Beak hesitated, before he said, "What's going on? One moment, our own soldiers were defending the Headquarters, refusing all my orders to lay down their arms, and the next moment, it was as though they'd all come out of some sort of a trance. They stopped fighting, some of them threw down their weapons, others looked as though they didn't understand what had just happened to them. And then we heard your broadcast, saying that General Blackthorn was in custody?"

"General Blackthorn is unconscious in the command centre back the way we've just come," Sunset explained. "As are all the men with him."

"So 'restrained for his own safety and that of others,' that was exaggerating things just a little bit," said the Atlesian man.

"I said what needed, to be said," Councillor Emerald insisted. "For the sake of Vale, to calm things down."

"Well, we'll go and … restrain him now, for real," said the woman.

"Although it seems as though there won't be any need to force him to order a Valish surrender," said the man.

"It might not hurt," said the woman. "General Ironwood didn't say anything about mass delirium; he said it was grimm cultists."

"No, Harriet," said the man. "Not after the First Councillor's broadcast. Not when there are Valish troops laying down their arms upstairs already." He smiled. "Congratulations, Councillor, you might just have saved the day."

"I can only hope," Councillor Emerald murmured. "Please … be as gentle as you can with, General Blackthorn and his officers; they have not been responsible for their actions. Sky … Colonel Sky Beak, with General Blackthorn … incapable of carrying out his duties, I am appointing you Commanding General of the Valish Defence Forces pending a confirmatory vote of the Council. Take command, get the troops off the streets as I instructed, maintain or reinforce," he groaned. "I won't tell you how to defend the city, but make sure that you do defend the city. The grimm outside—" He groaned again, his face twisting, contorting with pain, his head bowing. Sunset felt a sharp weight pull on her shoulder and thought the Councillor would have fallen if he hadn't been holding onto her.

"He needs a doctor," she said, "a hospital."

"We've had reports of fighting around Valish hospitals," the Atlesian man said. "Take him to the medical frigate; he can get treated there. Wierzbowski, help her with the Councillor."

"Yes, sir," said one of the Atlesian troops, slinging his rifle across his back as he dashed forwards to take Councillor Emerald's other arm and pull it over his shoulder.

"It will be done, Councillor," said Colonel Sky Beak. "I'll do everything I can to get our troops off the streets and protecting the city. You have my word."

Councillor Emerald nodded his head weakly. "Thank you, Sky Beak. I'm counting on you. Vale is counting on you."

"I'll let the airship know that you're on your way," said the Atlesian man, as he tapped his earpiece. "This is Ebi to Echo One-Two-Six, we have a wounded VIP inbound, stand by to transport them to the Comfort for urgent medical attention." He fell silent, then nodded his head after a moment. "They're waiting for you," he said. "Go."

Sunset and the Atlesian soldier — Wierzbowski — began to move, carrying Councillor Emerald much faster between the two of them than Sunset had been able to do on her own. Colonel Sky Beak and his Atlesian escort went the other way, moving past them towards the command centre; the lights from their flashlights disappeared behind Sunset and the others, vanishing off into the gloom.

As they moved, it occurred to Sunset that the Atlesians didn't seem to have encountered Cinder on their way down. She hadn't heard any gunshots, no sounds of a battle going on ahead, nor did they seem to have fought anyone. It was as though they had slipped past one another, like ghosts.

That was probably for the best. The quicker this situation could be gotten under control, the better, without Cinder starting a fight after the fight was over.

XxXxX​

Cinder had changed so quickly that she would have made actors jealous.

It helped that she had omitted the 'undressing' part of changing and still had her red dress on underneath the loose-fitting Valish uniform that she had taken from an unconscious soldier that she'd come across. It wasn't as though she was going to go around wearing this ugly, shapeless, green crime against fashion for very long — it was practically a jumpsuit, for goodness' sake — she wore it because she needed it for just a little while, but at the first opportunity, she intended to tear it off again, probably literally, and let her red dress show once again.

But, for all its excellent qualities, it had to be admitted that she would never have gotten out of the Valish Headquarters wearing the red dress. She was, after all, infamous; she was Cinder Fall, the notorious, the terrible, the would-be destroyer of Vale. Sonata had mocked her persistent failures and lack of accomplishments, but although Cinder had admittedly failed to accomplish the destruction of her enemies, she had nevertheless succeeded in making herself well known here. She was Cinder Fall, and as Cinder Fall, she wouldn't be allowed to just walk out of here.

Wearing a Valish uniform, though, with a cap covering her head and casting a shadow over her face, with her hair bound back in a ponytail using an elastic band that Cinder had found in someone's office, then there was nothing and no one stopping her from leaving to go wherever she liked.

The fact of the matter was that there were too many Valish soldiers and too few Atlesians; General Ironwood had decided to launch a small strike on the Valish Headquarters rather than to flood the area with soldiers. No doubt, he, prodded by Ozpin, had hoped to avoid the mass bloodshed that would make the pressure for war harder to resist. And yet, there had been bloodshed, on both sides. She was in the courtyard now, and there were dead Valish soldiers lying in the eaves, beside or behind columns that were pocked with bullet holes, or which had been destroyed in places by rocket or grenade fire. Dead men lay in the middle of holes in the wall, the dust of the destruction mingling with the blood. It was not only smashed and shattered robots that littered the ground, but dead men and women in green.

Dead men and women in white, also, or in the metallic armour of the Atlesian infantry. Their casualties were not so numerous, an inevitable fact by dint of their much smaller numbers of soldiers, but amongst them was one of their Specialists. They had lain their body out on the grass and covered their face and upper body with a jacket, but Cinder could see their boots and trousers and they did not resemble the other Atlesians. One of their elites had fallen in this battle.

Cinder wondered if they had a family, if they had children back home in Atlas waiting for their father or mother's return from the battlefield but whose surviving parent would have to tell them that their mommy or daddy would never be coming home. If they had children who would be expected to take comfort from the fact that mommy or daddy had died a hero, who would be solemnly handed a flag by General Ironwood as though that made any difference at all, as though a cheap rag to be run up a pole was any substitute for a mother's arms, for love and comfort, for a happy home, for safety.

Cinder felt bile rise in her throat. Bile that was directed not at General Ironwood but at herself.

I should have thought of all of that before I started all this.

How many more Ashleys have I created? How many more have I condemned? How many foolish girls have I shattered the worlds and lives of?

Perhaps when I am old and grey, if I live to be old and grey, then one of them will seek me out and have their revenge.

But revenge will not bring back their families.

I am a creature of malice, a monster who makes earthquakes where I tread, and houses fall from them.

Cinder bowed her head, clutching at one elbow with her other arm.

Nobody noticed. This whole base was now so full of shamefaced-looking Valish soldiers that one more didn't make any difference or attract any comment.

Who would have commented on it? The handful of overstretched Atlesian troops? Their numbers might have been adequate, once they had breached the courtyard, to fight their way through the corridors, but they were wholly insufficient to keep an eye on so many Valish. They were hampered by the fact that the status of the Valish was somewhat uncertain. They were not prisoners, at least not sufficiently so as to justify rounding them all up to kneel in one corner with their hands on their heads. Councillor Emerald had ordered them to cease fighting and had begged General Ironwood to do the same; he hadn't surrendered to the Atlesians, however, and the Atlesians seemed unwilling to press the point. Perhaps they were worried that, if pushed, the amazed and dismayed Valish might start to resist again. As it was, the Valish had been disarmed, their rifles stacked up under Atlesian guard, but the soldiers themselves were free to move.

And many of them were moving; they drifted here and there like dandelions blown away at the mercy of the breeze that picked them up to drop them here or there. Cinder had even caught sight of a couple that were, as she planned to, heading for the exit. Maybe they meant to obey Councillor Emerald's order to return to barracks, or maybe they were going home. Either way, there seemed no will on the part of the Atlesians to stop them.

Indeed, it might even make things easier for the Atlesians if the Valish did all abscond; they wouldn't have to keep an eye on them.

For her own part, she would leave, and then…

"To be revenged on the whole pack of them."

Cinder kept her head bowed a little as she slunk across the edges of the courtyard, passing under the shadows of the portico. She moved slowly, with her head bowed, as though shame burdened her heavily upon her shoulders. Shame did burden her: shame for what Sonata had done to her and shame for the growing realisation of what she had done: to create herself, perhaps many times over.

There was a rucksack slung across one shoulder; she had her glass slippers in there, as well as her weapons; at present, she had been forced to wear combat boots upon her feet; they were uncomfortable, they fitted poorly, and if it hadn't been for her aura, Cinder was absolutely certain that they would have given her blisters.

She would be free of all of it soon enough, once she was free of this place.

This place where the dead Specialist lay and stirred up such treacherous thoughts in Cinder's mind.

She was fortunate that neither glass slippers nor glass swords rattled or chinked or crashed in her rucksack as she walked — another reason for sloth in Cinder's movements. She was quiet as she made her way around the edges of the courtyard.

Cinder stopped as Sunset emerged. She stepped closer to a bullet-marked column, hiding within the shadows even as a part of her wanted Sunset to notice her, wanted to be spotted, wanted … something more than their meeting had given her, marred as it had been by the fact that Cinder had been too little herself.

When she thought of what Sonata had done to her, a mere spear through the gut seemed too good for her; Cinder should have incinerated the body at least, or better still, burned her alive. That would have risked Sonata using her magic on Cinder again even while she burned, but even so … her death had been too swift by far. Too swift for someone who had made a slave of Cinder, who had bound her more thoroughly than Lady Kommenos could have dreamt of, had made her more helpless than that stupid little girl who had died in Mistral.

Cinder was supposed to be stronger than that; Cinder was supposed to be, whatever else, inviolate in herself, in her will, in her resolve. Enemies could defeat her, kill her, betray and abandon her, but they could not make her other than she was.

Except they had. Sonata had. She had taken Cinder's feelings, and she had twisted and usurped them, and she had made Cinder into her plaything.

Cinder had not thought it was possible for such a fate to befall her. She hated the fact that such a fate had befallen her. She hated the fact that, in being liberated from that enslavement, she had something in common with these Valish soldiers, this common, vulgar herd devoid of … of will, passion, resolve, of destiny. Of destiny most of all.

Cinder had thought herself, had striven to be, one of the Great Ones, whose fortunes might ebb and flow like the moon but who always remained set apart from those beneath. The knowledge, the belief, the intention and desire to be … different, special, elevated, marked, chosen, it had comforted her in her darkest moments, it had inspired her at her lowest, it had driven her in the face of great obstacles. It had been her light in dark places, her guiding star even when the clouds closed in.

It had been the blanket in which she had swaddled herself, and like a baby's blanket, it had proven a fragile thing, inadequate. Her destiny, her greatness, none of it had prevented her from being used by Sonata, just as all these other men and women had.

Cinder had never thought to have anything in common with such people as these, still less to have in common that they had been slaves.

She hated it. She hated it all the more because she could not escape it. It would always be a part of her, just as it would always be a part of them, something binding them together for all that they knew it not.

At least she had been able to free herself, after a fashion. If Sunset had set her free, then that would have been unbearably demeaning. She wouldn't have been able to look Sunset in the face again without being constantly reminded of how much she owed to her; the debt would have been infuriating.

As it was, by having set herself free, Cinder could look at Sunset. She could watch her as she and an Atlesian soldier carried the First Councillor of Vale out towards one of the Atlesian airships. The Councillor did not look in a good way, but then, being shot had that effect. Still, Atlesian medicine was very advanced; a simple gunshot wound shouldn't be beyond their capabilities.

The Atlesian soldier stopped at the airship, but Sunset got on board with the injured Councillor, and Cinder lost sight of her as the airship door slammed shut. Still, she kept her eyes upon the Skyray as it rose into the night sky, taking off towards … wherever it was going. To get help for the Councillor, one presumed.

Cinder wondered if Sunset might stay up there for the rest of the battle. Probably not, but if she did, it would no doubt be safer than other places she could go.

For herself, Cinder resumed her course, moving amongst the disoriented, disaffected, distracted Valish soldiers. Moving amongst her fellow ex-slaves.

Cinder attempted not to seem as though she were moving with too much purpose, that she were as aimless as all the rest, as driven by random impulse and no coherent plan. Either it worked, or she just passed unnoticed, but no one challenged her, not even when she made her way into the deserted lobby of the building. There was a security door wide open, and Cinder ventured, quickening her step to reach it before — or in case — it closed. Her boots squeaked on the floor as she passed through the door, her pace quickening all the while so that, as she burst out into the street beyond the building, she was running.

She ran to where the barricade closing off the street had been broken down, where a silent and motionless tank with a sawn-off gun barrel sat with unconscious soldiers lying all around it. Sunset's work, no doubt, it was how she had gotten in here in the first place. Now, Cinder ran past that handiwork, and now, her glass in the rucksack clinked and clanked and clattered as she jogged it with her motions.

There was a hole in the road, and the same blast that made it had blown out the fronts of the buildings on either side also; Cinder dived into one of them, picking her way through the rubble of the blast into the bathroom, which had not been affected.

There, putting her rucksack down, she started to take off her stolen green jacket.

She stopped, looking at her neck, her bare neck, her neck which had, not too long ago, hosted that atrocious collar. Cinder stroked her bare neck with one hand, black nails scratching against pale skin. Her choker had been a simple thing, a plain and ordinary-looking black thing, but it had been hers, of her own choosing. Sonata had taken that away from her and replaced it with that hideous, awful, unbearable, mocking symbol of her enslavement. That was gone, gods be praised, but now, her neck was bare. Her neck was bare because her choice had been taken away.

Replacing it, then, was her first order of business. Replace it, and she might feel a little more herself.

And after that…

"To be revenged on the whole pack of them."

XxXxX​

The Atlesian medical frigate was not that much smaller than one of their cruisers; standing up, Sunset could look into the cockpit of the Skyray and then beyond, out of the window, to the ship that was their destination. The Comfort was rounder in shape than the cruisers, with a rounded, spherical hull and the only angles coming with the engine block mounted at the rear. The frigate was all white, lacking the blacks or dark greys of the warships; on the side was painted a very large and unmistakable red staff with a complex knot forming a four-pointed star set on top of it. It was the traditional symbol for healing and healthcare, although Sunset could not entirely remember why.

Sunset turned away from the ship, and looked down at Councillor Emerald. He was on the stretcher now, secured to the floor so that its movements wouldn't disturb him. He looked up at the ceiling with eyes that seemed a little unfocussed, worryingly so.

"Councillor?" Sunset asked softly, so as not to disturb the pilots, as she knelt down beside him. "Councillor, can you still hear me?"

Councillor Emerald blinked twice and turned his gaze slowly towards her. "Yes," he murmured. "Yes, I can hear you, Miss Shimmer."

"Good," Sunset said. "Good that … that's good. We don't want you wandering off anywhere."

Councillor Emerald blinked, although that word implied a greater speed than he actually demonstrated in the opening and closing of his eyes. "Miss Shimmer?"

"Yes, Councillor?"

"Will you … will you do me a favour?"

"That depends," Sunset said. "I'm not taking any dying messages for you because you're not dying."

"If … if I—"

"No," Sunset insisted. "No, Councillor, I'm not doing it. Save your breath, save your words, tell them yourself, because you're not going anywhere. We're almost there, and then some very talented people are going to fix you right up."

Councillor Emerald smiled faintly. "So confident, Miss Shimmer?"

"I refuse to admit any other outcome, Councillor," Sunset said stiffly.

"In that case, I ask that you go and see Bramble and tell him that I'll be fine," Councillor Emerald said softly. "Don't hide from him just because you're ashamed that I was hurt."

Sunset shifted awkwardly in place. "You … your grasp on my nature is astonishing, considering the brevity of our acquaintance. You must be a very good judge of character."

Councillor Emerald looked away. "Not … as much as I might like."

The side door of the Skyray slid open — distracted by talking to the Councillor, Sunset hadn't noticed that they were landing; even the movement of the airship as it slid inside had passed her by — and Sunset's eyes were met by a docking bay as white as the exterior of the frigate, a nearly barren space devoid of stacked crates or equipment or anything that might interrupt rapid movement, a docking bay that was as full of orderlies in green coveralls as it was deck crew in orange vests.

Two of the aforementioned orderlies were standing right outside the airship when the door opened. They sprang inside and began working assiduously to undo the straps that held the Councillor's stretcher down.

"Is this the VIP?" one of them asked without ceremony.

"Yes," Sunset said. "Yes, that's Councillor Emerald; he's been shot."

"Affirmative. OR's already been prepped for surgery."

"Let's go. On two. One, two."

They lifted the Councillor's stretcher up, bearing him quickly — but not without gentleness — out of the airship and onto a hovering table that was waiting to receive him. There was a tank strapped to the underside of the platform, with a face mask and a rubber tube joining the two. As Sunset watched, one of the two orderlies placed the mask on top of the Councillor's mouth. His antlers prevented them from strapping it on, but it stayed in place.

Councillor Emerald's eyes found Sunset again as the two orderlies bore him away. As the Councillor's eyes stayed on her, Sunset found herself following the platform. She left the airship and trailed after the two orderlies, keeping pace with them even as she lagged a little behind.

She followed the platform down stark white corridors, without the stains that Sunset might have expected, past robots doing menial tasks — they seemed to be the ones partly responsible for the absence of stains — who all rolled out of the way as the trolley came by, buzzing and beeping and making a variety of wordless scratching noises as they made a hole for the Councillor, and for Sunset following hard behind. She followed them past wards lined with beds, some of which were occupied already but most of which were empty, until they took the Councillor into a smaller surgical ward, where a transparent door closed in Sunset's face and showed no sign of opening.

Sunset stood in front of the door nonetheless, not because she thought it would open but because … why was she here? Why was she standing here like this, watching as a nurse swapped out the mask on Councillor Emerald's face for a different one, attached to a larger tank — of air, or maybe oxygen — mounted in the corner of the room? Why was she watching as doctors and nurses in blue scrubs, with their hands covered in surgical gloves, their faces sat behind transparent visors, got to work removing the Councillor's clothes, cutting away the bandage that Sunset had used to staunch the bleeding — blood spilled out of the Councillor's body.

Sunset frowned and wanted to look away but couldn't. She was stuck there, frozen, unable to do anything to help, unable to do anything but watch. Even when the medical team crowded around the Councillor and made it so Sunset couldn't see him anymore, she still wasn't able to look away. She was stuck there, because … because she was hoping that she could see enough to say with confidence that he was going to be fine.

A curtain drew across the door; it must have been triggered remotely, or else it moved automatically, because no one came over to draw the curtain. It just drew, concealing everything, even the doctors and nurses, from Sunset's sight.

Still she stayed there, rooted to the spot, staring at the blue curtain that told her nothing.

"He's very lucky."

Sunset started and looked around to see a nurse standing beside her. She was a tall woman, dark skinned after the Atlesian fashion, with black hair tied back in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She was dressed in blue, with translucent blue plastic bags on her shoes, half-concealing the white trainers underneath.

Sunset wondered if she ought to have put those on, but nobody had told her to.

The nurse held out a pair to her.

"Thanks," Sunset murmured, as she lifted up one leg and started pulling a bag over her boot. "'Lucky'?"

"Serious casualties are still quite light, so your friend was able to get taken to surgery immediately, and not just because he's a VIP," the nurse explained. "Plus, he's in the best hands. Doctor Song is an excellent surgeon. She could be making six figures in private practice if he wanted to."

"Then why isn't he?" asked Sunset.

"Because she'd rather help people than help her bank balance," the nurse replied. She glanced at the blue curtain that seemed to half-mock Sunset with its presence, and a faint smile flitted across her lips even as a sigh escaped from them. She returned her attention to Sunset. "I know that this might not seem like my place, and I know that after you brought him in here, it must seem like he's your responsibility … but the battle isn't over yet. You might want to think about whether this is the best place you can be right now."

She didn't give Sunset a chance to respond. She turned away and walked off down the corridor, leaving Sunset staring after her.

Was that a gentle way of ordering me off the ship, or…?

Whatever the motive for it, Sunset couldn't really deny that the nurse was correct; she couldn't do anything for Councillor Emerald just staring at this curtain, and it wasn't as though she couldn't do anything for anyone else either.

Of course, what else she could do for other people depended in no small part on the willingness of other people to tolerate her presence. Looking after Councillor Emerald, going with him, it had all had the advantage that she could do her part without needing to trouble Ruby — or risk Ruby's response if she came near her. Now…

With fighting going on in so many places, I'm sure I can find somewhere to be that Ruby isn't. If there's still fighting in Vale, then I can lend a hand there.

Sunset started back down the corridor, the way that she had come, when she was interrupted by the sound of orderlies crying out for people to make room. She pressed herself against the wall, Soteria and Sol Invictus tapping against the white tiles, as four orderlies rushed two more hovering platforms through. The first carried — was that Flash? Sunset caught a flash of blue hair, a familiar face — and blood, a lot of blood, blood dripping off the trolley and onto the floor.

"Flash?" Sunset whispered, but the orderlies rushed past her with their trolley, and she lost sight of Flash, or whoever was on there; she couldn't see, she could only see the orderlies as they rushed the trolley into another operating theatre.

Sunset might have followed to that door, but the second platform was hard upon the first, and she couldn't move. That platform had Cardin on it, she was certain of it, he was sitting up, and he looked at Sunset as he was pushed on by.

"Sunset?" he asked.

"Cardin?" Sunset murmured. "Cardin!" she yelled and followed him because if Cardin was here, then the odds of Flash having been pushed into that operating theatre just went up alarmingly. Sunset looked behind her, in case she saw Weiss or Russel being borne in as well, but there was no sign of either of them, just bare corridor and robots cleaning up the blood.

So Sunset followed Cardin, her shoe-covers crunching; the orderlies brought him into a large room with a lot of beds, all of them empty. Cardin got off the trolley himself and stood up as the orderlies started to remove his armour.

"Cardin!" Sunset repeated as she came in, trying to get a better look at him over or around the medical orderlies. "Cardin, what happened to you? Where's Weiss and Russel and … and…?" Was that Flash I just saw going into surgery? The words stuck in her throat; she could not say them.

"Sunset?" Cardin said, taking a step towards her before being sharply reminded to stay put. "Sunset, what are you doing here?" His blue eyes narrowed as he looked her up and down. "You don't look hurt."

"No, I brought someone wounded up here," Sunset said. "Councillor Emerald."

Cardin's eyes widened. "Councillor Emerald's been wounded?"

"He's in surgery now," Sunset explained. "They tell me that he's in good hands."

"I'm sure he is, but … dammit!" Cardin snapped. "What happened?"

"He was … he got the military to lay down their arms and stop fighting the Atlesians," Sunset said. "But he was wounded doing it."

"And you were there?" Cardin asked. "I thought you were leaving on a special mission."

Right. Mount Aris. The grimm. "Helping Councillor Emerald stop a war turned out to be an even more special mission," Sunset murmured. "I … I'm sorry that I couldn't stop him from getting hurt. I was fighting, and … I thought I'd taken care of everyone in the room, but someone else slipped in without me noticing."

"It happens, I guess," Cardin muttered. "So long as he's okay. The last thing we need is to lose another First Councillor."

"And the last thing his son needs is to lose another parent," Sunset muttered. "So … what happened to you?"

"Beringel," Cardin growled. "Busted up my arm. That's why I need help taking my armour off like a little kid." He looked at Sunset. "And yeah, you saw right, that was Flash on the other trolley. I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" Sunset repeated. "You…" she shook her head. "You don't have to be … I mean … how is he?"

"The grimm messed him up pretty good," Cardin said. "I think … his legs…"

Cardin didn't say anymore. He didn't need to say any more; his silence was speaking for him more loudly than any words could have.

His legs. He was going to lose his legs.

He was such a good dancer. That thought, that utterly absurd thought, was at the forefront of Sunset's mind. It meant nothing, it mattered less, it was utterly trivial and completely irrelevant to the situation at hand, and yet, at Cardin's words, at his implications, it was the only thought in Sunset's mind. The memory of school dances at Canterlot filled her mind, the way Flash could move, the rhythm he possessed, the way that he could dance formally with grace or get down to it with style and vigour in equal measure, it consumed Sunset's mind.

And now, he was going to lose his legs. Those legs that he had used to dance so well, to look so good, to impress so much … he was going to lose them.

Oh, Flash.

He'll walk again. He'll get a new pair of legs, and he'll walk again and run again and even fight again if he still wants to.

But he may never dance like that again.

Oh, Flash.

"And, um," Sunset murmured. "And your other teammates?"

"They're fine," Cardin said. "I mean, they're not hurt, anyway. Weiss unlocked a new part of her semblance to save our lives."

"Good for her," Sunset muttered. It sounded harsher than maybe was necessary, but it was hard to feel a lot of enthusiasm for Weiss' accomplishment when Flash was about to lose his legs. Couldn't she have done it a little sooner?

Sunset took a step backwards. "Take care of yourself, Cardin," she said. "And if you see Flash, tell him I said … I said I'm sorry."

"You're going back out there?" Cardin asked.

Sunset nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. I can't just hang around here, can I?"

"Then give 'em hell for us, okay?" Cardin said.

Sunset smiled grimly. "You bet," she said, and left him in the capable hands of the orderlies. For her own part, she strode briskly down the corridor, retracing her steps until she had made it back to the hangar bay.

There were no airships; they had all gone, and they hadn't been there to offer her taxi rides anyway. The airships were all gone, but the hangar doors were still open, and it couldn't be much farther from here down to Vale than it was from the clifftop into the forest.

Sunset walked to the edge of the landing bay and looked down to make sure that she wasn't going to drop straight onto another incoming airship. There were none. As far as she could see, the skies were clear.

Councillor, Flash, I'll bring you both some flowers when I come visit.

For now, though, once more into the breach.

But not the Breach, thank Celestia.

Anyway, here I come.

Sunset jumped and began to fall away from the Comfort and down, back down, towards the city of Vale.

And towards the battles that waited there.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Iron with Two Rs

​

Ruby rubbed her eyes with the back of one hand as she sat up on the … on the floor. The floor of … Professor Ozpin's office?

Yes, it was Professor Ozpin's office; there was the glass desk behind which the headmaster was wont to sit, and in that chair with its high back, and there overhead were the gears of the clock, grinding on without a break.

They had ground on so much that it was dark outside.

Ruby slowly got up off the floor. "Professor?" she asked, her voice still caught in that mumbled tone that follows waking up.

There was no answer. Ruby looked around, turning in a circle. She had woken up in Professor Ozpin's office, but Professor Ozpin wasn't here. She was in his office, but he wasn't. And it was dark outside, night had fallen, when the last thing Ruby remembered was—

"Amber!" Ruby cried, as the cobwebs of her mind were all blown away, and she remembered what had happened — or what she thought had happened, based on her last memories.

The last thing she remembered was her being in her dorm room — or the Team SAPR dorm room, given her resolve to leave it — with Amber and Dove. She had been … she and Amber had exchanged words, about Sunset, and Ruby's plans, and then…

And then Amber had used her semblance on Ruby.

Ruby had seen it before. Amber had shown it to all of them, on the day before yesterday, when they'd all been experimenting to find the limits of Penny's newfound semblance. Amber had shown them the motes of golden light that drifted through the air and … and put people to sleep. The way that Ruby had been put to sleep.

But why would Amber do such a thing? Why would Amber want to put Ruby to sleep when Ruby was there to protect her?

Her dream supplied an answer: that Amber had betrayed them to Salem for the promise of her own life. But that was a dream, and while it was a dream that had been satisfying in parts and in other parts had helped her come to terms with some feelings and frustrations, on the subject of Amber — or the Fall Maiden — she couldn't jump to any conclusions. Just because she had dreamed of Amber — or someone transparently based on Amber — as a villainess, it didn't make her one.

Although what other reason would she have for putting Ruby to sleep like that?

And how had she ended up in Professor Ozpin's office? Why hadn't she woken up in the dorm room? Obviously, someone had brought her to the Professor's office, but who? Amber, or Dove? Amber had put her to sleep but then carried her to Professor Ozpin? That made even less sense than Amber putting her to sleep in the first place.

Made less sense, unless…

Ruby didn't want it to be true. She didn't want to have special dreams that told her the … the present, she guessed, or the near past; she didn't want to have worked out the whole thing in her dream when the thing that she had worked out was so terrible to contemplate.

She didn't want Amber to have betrayed them; she didn't want to believe that of her.

Ruby and Amber had never been best friends, she hadn't been — she wasn't, Ruby reminded herself to think in the present tense and not write Amber off just yet — as close to her as Sunset and Pyrrha, or even as much as Ciel, but all the same, she had liked the Fall Maiden well enough, and she thought that Amber had liked her well enough too. Amber had been scared and hopeless, but that was fine by Ruby because she wasn't a huntress. She was one of the people that huntresses had to protect, and so, she had the right to be as much of a coward as she wanted to be. Huntresses were the only people who had to be brave.

But there was a difference between a coward and a traitor, and Ruby didn't want Amber to have crossed that line, didn't want to believe that she had.

It was dark outside. Maybe the tournament was over already and Jaune and Pyrrha and Penny had come back down and found her asleep in the dorm?

But why would they take her to Professor Ozpin? And why would she be just left here like this on the floor?

Ruby walked to the windows that surrounded the chamber. Looking out across Beacon, she could see … not a lot, but some of the buildings did look kind of damaged, while when she looked to the sky dock at the back of the school, looking out across Beacon, she could see a lot of people queueing up to get on board airships: a line of people all looking really small from up here.

And beyond the docks, Vale: Vale that had gone dark in patches, all the lights off, whole districts blacked out.

While she had been sleeping, while she had been sleeping because of Amber, the attack that Cinder had warned Pyrrha and Sunset of had started.

The attack had started, and she, Ruby, had slept through it.

There was a battle raging, and she had been asleep.

Asleep!

Because Amber had put her to sleep!

Whatever her reasons, even if Amber wasn't actively malicious, even if there was an explanation — although Ruby was hard pressed to come up with one — for what she'd done, there was no excuse for that, none at all!

Just like there was no excuse for Ruby standing around up here when the great attack foretold by Cinder had commenced.

Rose petals trailed after her, drifting down like drops of blood to land lazily upon the floor as Ruby raced across the office to the elevator. She hammered upon the button to summon the lift repeatedly, pressing it over and over again at rapid speed, not because she thought that it would make the elevator come any faster — although maybe it would, you never knew — but because she couldn't just stand there doing nothing. She had to do something, even if it was only mashing the button on the elevator.

The lift arrived; Ruby was through the door before it had even finished opening, before the bell had rung. She pushed the button for the ground floor even before the door had opened on Professor Ozpin's office, and she then had to wait for the doors to open fully, stay open for a few seconds that felt to Ruby like agonising hours — as agonising as the amount of time that she had passed asleep while the battle raged — before the door ground closed again, taking an eternity to do so.

Finally, finally, at long last, the lift began to descend. It would have been quicker to have thrown herself down the shaft, but at least the elevator was moving. It would get her down eventually.

And once she got down there, she would…

Well, she would join the battle, obviously, wherever that might be. Ruby found that she was forming … she was forming a guess as to what had happened to her since Amber had put her to sleep. Amber had put her to sleep for … whatever reason, Ruby still wasn't ready to condemn her just yet, but anyway, what was undeniable was that Amber had put Ruby to sleep, and then after that, her teammates had found her, and then, with the battle starting and them not able to wake her up — it was a pity that Penny's semblance couldn't work on other people, but Ruby could understand why that was; it wasn't even as though Penny's semblance stood out in that regard — they had taken her to Professor Ozpin's office. Because it was safer there than anywhere else, maybe, or because they'd hoped that Professor Ozpin might be able to wake her up. He hadn't been, or at least if he had, he'd moved very quickly afterwards to get out of his office before Ruby had realised where she was, but Ruby could understand why they hadn't just wanted to leave her in the dorm room.

It had been … considerate of them to move her.

That was not a motive she might have so readily ascribed before Amber had put her to sleep. It had reached the point where she had found it hard to attribute anything so considerate as consideration to her teammates. But sleeping, dreaming, it had … it had given her, not a whole new perspective, but it had enabled her to work out some things, to straighten out in her mind what had been a crooked maze before.

She felt as though specks had been plucked from her silver eyes.

But the consequences of that all lay ahead. For now, there was a battle to be fought and won, and she was not asleep, so she had no more excuse for failing to be a part of it.

Once she reached the bottom of the tower, then she would have to find out where exactly the battle was being fought, and then get there. Both might present some obstacles, depending on how long the battle had been raging or how it was going right now, but the more immediate issue was the 'where.' The 'where' would in some part shape the 'how.'

The blackouts that Ruby had seen from Professor Ozpin's tower suggested that the battle was being waged somewhere in Vale, and that … Ruby examined the memories of Cinder's confession, as told to them all by Pyrrha that morning: an Equestrian creature had subverted the Valish military.

Ruby did not wish, as she had wished that morning, that she had never heard the name Equestria, but she did wish that they would keep their creatures to themselves in their own world and not trouble Remnant with them. They had problems enough of their own here in Remnant, more than enough, without dealing with those of other places too.

She also wished that Professor Ozpin had acceded to her request to let them go and hunt the creature down before it could do all this. If he had, then maybe this could have been avoided. Or perhaps not; Professor Ozpin had been afraid that it wouldn't be so easy. Professor Ozpin was afraid, as Sunset was afraid, as Amber was afraid; everyone was frightened, everyone was terrified except for her.

Ruby no longer railed inwardly against that as she had done. It might be a flaw on all their parts, but when a flaw became that common, there wasn't much to do but shrug and make the best of it.

Fear was not malice, it was not wickedness; though it might produce wicked outcomes, it did not travel there by the same roads, with the same aims in mind and heart and soul.

Fear was something to be lamented, caution was something to be regretted when it gave the truly wicked freedom to act, but neither was to be … they did not deserve to be met with wrath.

Rather they should be met with pity … and forgiveness.

Forgiveness if possible.

All of that being said, Ruby could not help but be irked by the knowledge that if Professor Ozpin had allowed them to go into Vale and look for this Equestrian monster, then Amber wouldn't have been in a position to put her to sleep, and even if they hadn't been able to stop the battle, then she wouldn't have missed any of it either.

But Pyrrha's absence from the tournament would have been noticed, and not just in an 'I wonder where Pyrrha Nikos is' kind of way. More in a 'Where is Pyrrha Nikos!? Where is our Champion, where is our Princess Without a Crown? What have you Atlas scum done with her? Search high and low in all of Vale till she is found' kind of way. The kind of way that made things … awkward.

After all, they couldn't just tell everyone the Vytal Tournament had just become pointless on account of the impending attack. That might have been … bad.

But that was all in the past, all behind, all as irrelevant as the Vytal tournament itself; the battle was what mattered now — where was the battle? — she would need to find out where the battle was; was it in Vale? It seemed so, but were they fighting beyond the city too? Out by the Green Line? Had the grimm perhaps already breached the Green Line and started to advance upon the Red?

She would go…

She would go wherever the fighting was thickest. Or should she go wherever there were people most in need? After all, just because the fighting was thickest in one place didn't mean that absolutely everyone was needed there: if the fighting was thickest, it was probably because a lot of people were there already. If the grimm were attacking from outside Vale, then that was probably where a lot of people were already, but that might mean that the Valish troops who'd been taken over by the Equestrian creature would have the free run of the city to do whatever they liked — or whatever the creature controlling them liked — so maybe Ruby should go there instead.

It was a tough decision, and as the elevator continued to descend the tower, Ruby could see why people like Rainbow Dash or even Blake found it easier to just put all their trust in someone like General Ironwood, let him make all the decisions. Go here, go there, do this, do that. It was simple. It was straightforward. You didn't have to worry about whether or not you'd made the right decision because 'the General' had made it for you.

Life was simpler that way.

But Ruby didn't want that kind of simplicity. Lots of things were simple, a lot simpler than a lot of people claimed that they were, but not everything ought to be. Some things, some choices, you ought not to hand over to someone else; some choices, you ought to take responsibility for yourself, even if they were hard to make. Especially if they were hard to make.

She would go … it was pointless to decide now, stuck in this elevator, her legs twitching beneath her as she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, waiting for it to reach the bottom. She didn't know what was going on; she'd only seen that parts of Vale had been hit by blackouts. For all she knew, the crisis in Vale had been resolved, and they were about to get the power back on.

For all she knew, the battle was over.

And wouldn't that be terrific? Ruby thought, half sarcastically. Only half because, on one level, of course, it would be terrific; it would be terrific if the fighting was all wrapped up and done with already and nobody was in any more danger.

But she still thought it half sarcastically because if the battle was over and she'd slept through the whole thing, then … she wouldn't be very happy about it, however nice it was for everyone else.

She shouldn't want to fight for the sake of it, she shouldn't want to fight if it meant that she put people in danger, but … she kind of did. She wanted to fight, she didn't want to sleep the battle away, she wanted to prove … Ruby was hard pressed to say what, exactly, she wanted to prove, but she wanted to prove something.

Of course, however the battle was going, whether it was taking place in Vale or outside of Vale or both or even if the fighting was over, the first place Ruby would have to go would be back to the dorm room because whoever had carried her to Professor Ozpin's office had forgotten to bring Crescent Rose with them.

She couldn't fight anywhere without her weapon; without a weapon anyway, and she might as well use hers because she'd scrabble around for a different one even if she'd wanted it.

The lift finally, finally, came to a stop, and the doors began to open on the almost fluorescent green of the tower lobby.

Ruby burst out through the doors, trailing more rose petals after her, then slowing down a little as she approached the doors that would lead out of the tower itself and into the square beyond.

She started to get her scroll out — she still had that with her, even if she didn't have her weapon — with one hand as she reached for the button to open the door with the other. She would call … she would call … Professor Ozpin? Penny, maybe. No, Professor Ozpin; Penny would know how the fighting was going where she was, wherever that might be, but Professor Ozpin could tell her how the whole battle was going and how she'd ended up in his office, and also, she could tell him about Amber putting her to sleep, and maybe he could guess why she'd done it.

And then, once he had told her everything, Ruby could decide where she was going to go.

Which was not necessarily where Penny was.

In fact—

Ruby pushed the button. The door unlocked with a clunk, and Ruby pulled it open with her free hand, stepping out into the darkness.

She had only just started to descend the steps when she saw that there was no need to call Professor Ozpin, because he was standing in the square, not far from the tower.

So, for that matter, were Penny, Jaune, and Pyrrha.

Perhaps they only just left me in Professor Ozpin's office.

Perhaps I haven't been asleep for very long after all.

I've been asleep long enough for it to get dark; the sun was still up when Amber used her semblance on me.

Maybe they didn't find me for a while?

Ruby put her scroll away; she had only half-taken out in any case, so it was an easy thing to slip it back into its pouch; as she walked down the steps and across the square to where they stood, she found herself pushing her shoulders back.

She had nothing to be ashamed of. It wasn't her fault that Amber had put her to sleep.

But she was a little ashamed all the same. She just didn't want them to know it.

"Ruby!" Penny cried. "You're awake!"

"Yeah," Ruby replied, in a voice that was level and even, without much enthusiasm in it but without any lack of it either. She didn't smile. "Yeah, I am."

"Welcome back, Miss Rose," Professor Ozpin said genially.

Ruby looked at him. "Professor," she said, "I know this might sound crazy, but Amber did this to me. She used her semblance to put me to sleep. It's the last thing I remember: we were in the dorm room, and then all of a sudden, Amber was holding out her hand, and all those motes of light were coming towards me, and … and that's all I remember; it must have been when I fell asleep."

Ruby did not receive the reaction that she was expecting. Nobody gasped in shock; nobody protested that she must be mistaken or confused. Instead, Professor Ozpin closed his eyes, and his face became pinched and drawn looking as though he'd just been hurt. Penny bit her lip and looked away. Jaune looked at Pyrrha, while Pyrrha clutched at her long red sash with both hands, fussing with it as her cheeks reddened.

"You … you knew?" Ruby asked. "You knew, but … how?"

"When we found you in the dorm room, on your own," Penny began. She stopped, then started again. "We found you in the dorm room on your own," she said. "You were being eaten by an ursa, and then even after we killed it, we couldn't wake you up. And then Pyrrha—"

"I am afraid that I was forewarned that Amber was … not to be trusted," Professor Ozpin murmured, his voice soft but firm enough to silence Penny regardless. "Miss Fall told me so last night."

"Cinder?" Ruby gasped. "Cinder said…" She looked at Pyrrha. "You didn't say anything about this this morning!"

"I did not believe it," Professor Ozpin declared. "Miss Fall offered no proof, only supposition. She claimed that, because Miss Shadow was a traitor, a servant of Salem, and because she had protected Amber last night, then Amber must also be in league with our enemies."

"All this time?" Ruby murmured. "But then why would—?"

"No, Miss Rose, not all this time," Professor Ozpin corrected her. "Miss Fall claimed that this was a very recent development. I repeat that she offered no proof; in fact, she didn't even claim to know for sure, only to have surmised it based on Miss Shadow's proximity to Amber. She claimed that Salem had promised Amber safety in exchange for the Relic of Choice." He paused. "As I say, I did not believe it. I did not wish to believe it. I didn't want to think so ill of Amber."

"And so you kept it a secret," Ruby said, her voice sharpening. "Both of you." And Sunset too, she might have added, except that Sunset hadn't been in much of a position to say anything that morning, had she? She probably would have kept it a secret just like Pyrrha and Professor Ozpin, but it was hard to blame her for keeping silent from the house of Novo Aris in Vale.

And I wouldn't have wanted to hear from her anywhere. I might not have believed her if she had said anything.

"You should have said something."

"Repeated a lie?" Pyrrha said. "Spread slanders and suspicion without grounds?"

"Except there were grounds, weren't there?" Ruby pointed out.

"Miss Nikos is not to blame, Miss Rose; I take full responsibility for this," Professor Ozpin said. "I was adamant that Amber could not have done such a thing, that the monstrous accusations were without grounds, unworthy to be entertained. Even after Miss Polendina, Miss Nikos, and Mister Arc brought you to me, sleeping, I did not want to believe it."

Ruby thought that Professor Ozpin was covering for Pyrrha a bit there, but there was no point in arguing with that. She had no doubt that Professor Ozpin hadn't wanted to believe it, just like Pyrrha. If she'd been in the room with Cinder and heard her, then Ruby wouldn't have wanted to believe it either. And it was Cinder, after all; it wasn't like she was someone incredibly trustworthy saying something that happened to make them uncomfortable; she was a snake who lied as easily as she breathed.

The fact that she hadn't been lying about this, the fact that she'd guessed right, was unfortunate, but deciding not to believe her and not to tell other people what she'd said was … it wasn't the worst thing that anyone had ever done, or the hardest to understand.

Professor Ozpin had loved Amber, and Pyrrha had liked her a great deal; of course they hadn't wanted to believe that she would be capable of selling out to Salem to save her own skin.

Ruby hadn't wanted to believe it herself, and she wasn't nearly as close to her as either of them.

She still didn't like to believe it, for all that her subconscious had essentially called it without any help from Cinder while she was asleep.

It was one thing to be afraid, to be terrified; that was fine; that was even natural in the right situation. Amber might even be the normal one and Ruby the weirdo for not feeling any fear. But to act on that fear by doing this, by turning her back on … no, it wasn't even the betrayal. Loyalty wasn't all it was cracked up to be; at some point, you might have to stand up for higher principles; there were times when it might be the right thing to betray someone, even someone close to you. Betraying them wasn't Amber's crime. Colluding in … in Ruby didn't know exactly what because she hadn't gotten any details of the battle that was — or might be — still going on was Amber's crime. Putting Vale in danger and being willing to hand one of the four Relics over to Salem, that was Amber's crime.

A crime for which it was hard to find forgiveness. Right now, the only reason not to kill Amber was that doing so would make Cinder the Fall Maiden, and while there was a solution to that too, it carried risks with it: the risk that the powers would pass from Cinder to … who knew? It might not be possible to ensure the magic transferred to someone virtuous and trustworthy.

And anyway, who is trustworthy nowadays? Everyone seems to be unreliable.

Ruby pushed that thought aside; it was making her a little uncomfortable. "Where is Amber now?"

"We're not entirely sure," Jaune said. "We talked to Benni, and she told us that she saw Amber leaving the school grounds by the road that leads to Vale; she was with Dove, Lyra, Bon Bon, and Tempest Shadow."

"And you didn't go after her?" Ruby demanded.

"General Ironwood told us not to," Penny said. "He said—"

"General Ironwood isn't your boss anymore," Ruby declared. "You're supposed to be a—" She stopped, taking a breath. Snapping at Penny wouldn't help, and anyway, she didn't deserve it; yes, Ruby would have gone after Amber, tried to catch up with her, apprehend her to be dealt with once the crisis had passed, but Penny … Penny had decided to consult an authority figure, someone older, someone who was supposed to be wiser, someone who could take the responsibility off her shoulders. As Ruby had admitted to herself on the way down the tower, there was something comforting in doing that, even if that didn't make it right.

"I'm sorry, Penny," Ruby said. "What did General Ironwood say?"

"That if we couldn't find Amber in a quick search of the grounds, or if we found out that she'd gone, we should prioritise the defence of the school," Jaune told her. "There were grimm attacking, and Rainbow and the others were struggling to keep people safe long enough for the airships to take them off."

"I see," Ruby murmured, wishing that she could shrink a little bit and in the shrinking cause her earlier outburst to be overlooked. General Ironwood's reasoning, and the reasoning of the others for going along with it, was hard to argue with. She couldn't see any grimm right now, but Jaune wouldn't lie to her and pretend that there had been a grimm attack on Beacon when there hadn't been, and it would explain the damaged buildings that she'd seen from up in the headmaster's office. If there had been a grimm attack — there had been a grimm attack; she had faith in Jaune — and if people had been in danger, which made sense, then it also made sense to make protecting them the highest priority. Protecting people, protecting the weak, was, after all, the highest good of the huntsman.

The only argument against it was that if Salem got her hands on one of the Relics, then the whole of Remnant would be one step closer to destruction, and it wouldn't matter how many people they protected from the grimm because they would all just die later, but by that argument … there had to be limits. Huntsmen and huntresses should be prepared to die for the greater good, but for everyone else? For the ordinary people? You couldn't just start shovelling their lives onto the scales like jellybeans and seeing which of them weighed less; once you did that … that was how Mantle had ended up the way it had, before the war; you couldn't go down that road.

You had to fight for every life, except when it belonged to a huntsman. Or an enemy.

No, they had done the right thing, and Ruby felt embarrassed by her earlier outburst. "Right," she said softly, "I see." She cleared her throat, but as much as she intended to run past that as swiftly as if she'd been using her semblance, she couldn't quite bring herself to look at any of them, especially at Penny. "So, what's the situation?"

"Professor Ozpin just defeated the grimm!" Penny declared.

Now, Ruby looked at Professor Ozpin. "You led the defence?" she asked. It wasn't a question that really needed to be asked — of course the Headmaster of Beacon had led the defence of Beacon — but it was one of those things that made her especially rue her Amber-induced slumber. She wished that she could have seen it, Professor Ozpin commanding the battle the way that he had commanded Ozpin's stand; she wished that she could have been a part of it, the way that Team STRQ had been part of that earlier battle.

Hopefully, she'd get another chance tonight, if the battle wasn't over already.

"No, he just killed them all," Penny said. "With this staff. There was a bright light that spread out across the whole school, and it burned all the grimm away."

"A little," Professor Ozpin began, then paused. "A rather substantial, I must admit, touch of…"

"Magic?" Ruby guessed.

"Not exactly; kinetic energy, but stored up through magical means, yes," Professor Ozpin. "Sadly, it's not something you should expect me to be able to do again."

"Hopefully, you won't need to, Professor," Pyrrha said. "Thanks to Professor Ozpin, the grimm have been destroyed at the school, but everyone is still being evacuated up to the Amity Arena."

"Because there's trouble in Vale too, right?" Ruby said. "Just like Cinder said there would be."

One of the things you did tell us that she said.

Jaune nodded. "First, it was grimm cultists attacking all over the place, but then General Blackthorn went on TV and declared martial law and a curfew, and … it all sounded pretty nuts. And pretty bad."

"Professor Goodwitch took some volunteer students into Vale to assist the police in maintaining order, before the grimm attack on the school began," Professor Ozpin explained. "I fear she may be having more difficulty than either she or I anticipated."

"You didn't go with them?" Ruby asked.

"We hadn't gotten down from the Amity Arena yet; there were grimm all around it," Penny pointed out.

Ruby licked her lips. "Right," she said softly. "Right, of course you hadn't; I… please go on, what happened?"

"How long have you been asleep?" asked Jaune.

"Since … before the finals," Ruby said. "Was there a finals, did you get to finish the tournament?"

"Yes," Pyrrha murmured.

"And Pyrrha won," Jaune added, a slight smile playing across his face.

"It hardly seems worth saying now," Pyrrha murmured.

"I can see why Jaune did," Ruby said softly. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Pyrrha said quietly. "In the circumstances—"

"I'm sure it made a lot of people very happy," Ruby told her. "And maybe that will give them some comfort tonight, even if things get … even if things are dark. And besides, like I was thinking on the way down, if you hadn't fought in the tournament, every Mistralian in Vale would have started searching the whole city for you or accusing Atlas of having you kidnapped to wreck their chances."

Pyrrha snorted. "I fear you may not be entirely wrong."

There was a moment of silence that felt almost companionable, before Ruby said, "So, the grimm attacked Amity Arena as well, or just stopped you from leaving?"

"Okay, as quick as I can, here's what happened so far," Jaune said. "Right after Pyrrha won her match, the grimm started attacking Amity Arena, but we held them off and protected everyone inside with the help of General Ironwood's airships. That's also when the Valish Defence Force went kinda nuts and started attacking the Atlesians, but they beat them and the grimm and cleared the sky. The plan was to evacuate everyone from Amity down to Beacon, since they couldn't go to Vale, but no sooner could we get down than the grimm started attacking Beacon. So we — the students — came down, leaving everyone else up in the Colosseum. We found you in the dorm room with Amber and Dove gone, and that's when we…" — he looked at Pyrrha — "realised what Amber must have done. We brought you to Professor Ozpin, found out that Amber had left the school, and then we joined the fight against the grimm. Then Professor Ozpin did his thing to destroy all the grimm, we came back here to see what had happened because it seemed like the blast had come from this way, and that's when you woke up. Or at least when you came down here." He took a deep breath.

"So what's happening in Vale?" asked Ruby. "Or with the grimm outside of Vale, have they started to attack?"

"Not yet, but it seems they are about to," Ozpin informed her. "General Ironwood and his officers believe so, at least. As for Vale, I—"

He was interrupted by his scroll going off.

"Under the circumstances, you will excuse me," Ozpin murmured. "This might be important." He tucked his cane under one arm and got his scroll out of his jacket pocket. When he opened it up, he said, "Ah, yes, it's James; this probably is important." He answered. "James?"

"Oz, have you heard Councillor Emerald's broadcast?" General Ironwood asked; Ruby couldn't see his face, but she could hear his voice emerging into the night.

"Councillor Emerald?" Ozpin asked. "No, I'm afraid I haven't."

"He broadcast from the Valish command centre, instructing all Valish forces to cease hostilities and imploring my troops to do the same," General Ironwood informed them. "He claimed that the hostile actions of General Blackthorn had been brought about by … mass delirium, whatever that means. Not long after that, my team reached the nerve centre of the Valish Defence Force and found General Blackthorn and his staff unconscious in a room that looked like a tornado had passed through it. And on the way, they passed Councillor Emerald, wounded, along with Miss Shimmer."

"Sunset?" Penny asked. "Sunset was there?"

"Penny?" asked General Ironwood.

Penny stood to attention, even though she didn't need to. "Yes, sir, sorry, sir."

"It's fine, Penny," General Ironwood assured her. "Yes, it seems that she's been keeping herself busy."

"I'm glad to hear it," Ozpin murmured. "Did your people find … anyone who was not connected with the Valish Defence Force present at the headquarters?"

"A dead girl," General Ironwood said. "About the same age as our students. They weren't able to identify her."

"I see," Professor Ozpin said softly. "And what effect has the … Councillor's broadcast produced?"

"It's taken the wind right out of the sails of the Valish," General Ironwood said. "According to my troops, they don't know what to do next, if they even knew why they were doing what they were doing. They're throwing down their weapons, and … they're like lost sheep, apparently. Colonel Sky Beak is trying to marshal them, but his problem isn't so much disobedience as aimlessness on the part of his soldiers."

"Interesting," Ozpin said, although he didn't sound particularly interested by it. "That's one less problem to worry about, thank goodness. You said Councillor Emerald was wounded?"

"Miss Shimmer took him to one of my medical frigates; he's in surgery now," General Ironwood reported. "I'm told he stands a good chance."

"Something else to be thankful for, if true; the last thing we need is another leadership contest," Ozpin replied. "Still, if the behaviour of the Valish is replicated all across Vale, then Glynda should be able to restore order without further assistance. Thank you for letting me know, James; it gladdens my heart."

"General Ironwood?" Penny interjected. "Do you…?" She glanced at Ruby. "Do you know where Sunset is now? Is she still with Councillor Emerald?"

"I don't think so, Penny," General Ironwood replied. "Unfortunately, I don't have a better answer for you than that."

"I see," Penny said softly. "Thank you, sir."

You want her to come back, don't you? Ruby thought.

She wasn't surprised, and while she might have been upset about it before tonight, now … it meant nothing to her. She didn't hate Sunset the way that she had done; sleep, a different understanding that came with sleep, had burned the anger out of her, like a fire sweeping through the forest, leaving only ash behind. The Witch of the Setting Sun was not wicked, only afraid, and fear deserved pity, not wrath. Sunset was … a pathetic creature, in some ways, in many ways; in a lot of respects, she was every bit as frightened, every bit as much a coward, as Amber was, save that Sunset's fears were for others than herself — she did not lack for personal courage, only moral courage. She deserved pity for that, and perhaps a degree of scorn, but hatred? To be the object of Ruby's undying enmity, to be her villain, her nightmare? Sunset didn't deserve that, and even if she had, she just wasn't worth it. Ruby had outgrown her; she could leave Sunset behind without a second glance, and she would.

So, then, let Penny have her back. Her and Pyrrha both, if they wanted it so, if Jaune would have it too. Let them be happy together, if they could; if they could trust Sunset. It made no difference to Ruby. She was on a different road now.

If this was what Penny wanted, let her have it.

"This is good news," Ozpin declared. "Very good news, but we still have at least one more battle ahead before the night ends. That being so, James, I will let you get to it. Pass my thanks to your doctors, for the care they are taking with Councillor Emerald and all our wounded."

"Will do, Oz," General Ironwood said. "Ironwood out."

Ozpin put his scroll back into his jacket pocket. "It is a pity that she could not prevent the wounding of the First Councillor," he said, "but nevertheless, it seems Miss Shimmer has done well."

"But now she's done, she—" Penny began. She paused. "I mean that I would … I think that she—"

"You want Sunset to come back," Ruby said. "Don't you?"

Penny didn't reply. She shuffled an inch or two closer to Pyrrha.

Ruby began to continue. "It's—"

"Yes," Penny said, raising her head and speaking in a clear, firm voice. "Yes, I do. As the leader of this team, I think that we could use her help right now. I thought so when the school was under attack, and although the school is safe, Vale is about to come under attack next, and I still think we could use Sunset's help. I think this team will be stronger if Sunset's with us. And Jaune and Pyrrha both agree with me."

Ruby looked at Jaune. Pyrrha wasn't a surprise at all, but Jaune? She'd thought Jaune agreed with her, and while Ruby no longer objected to what Penny was asking, she was a little surprised to find that Jaune felt the same way.

Or is he only pretending to feel that way because he doesn't want to upset Pyrrha?

"Whatever mistakes Sunset's made," Jaune said, "we've never regretted having her around in a fight, have we? She's always had our backs."

Having our backs was never the problem, Ruby thought. "If that's what you want," she said.

Penny blinked. "You … you don't mind?"

"Not that it matters," Ruby said. "But no, I don't. You want Sunset on this team, then you can have her. And Jaune's right: the way Sunset performed in a fight was never the issue."

"And it is all hands on deck right now," Jaune added.

One corner of Ruby's lip twitched upwards. "From what General Ironwood said, it sounds as though Sunset's been swabbing the deck already," she pointed out. It sounded, reading between the lines of what General Ironwood had told Ozpin, that Sunset had killed the Equestrian creature and taken out General Blackwood and his entire command staff, breaking the magic spell and paving the way for Councillor Emerald, albeit wounded, to defuse the situation between the Valish and Atlesian forces.

If that's all you do tonight, Sunset, then you've done a pretty good job.

"Quite," Pyrrha said. "So far she has accomplished the most of any of us."

"The night isn't over yet," Ruby pointed out. To Ozpin, she asked, "So what happens now?"

"Any students who wish are free to bolster the defences at the Green Line," Ozpin informed them. "Airships will be dropping the Atlas and Haven students off by the Atlesian and Mistralian headquarters, respectively; I'm afraid that Beacon students will also be deposited by the Mistralians and have to walk to the Valish lines; even with the situation with the Siren seemingly resolved, I fear the airship pilots may be a little skittish about getting too close."

"And what about Amber, Professor?" Pyrrha asked. "If Cinder was right, and it seems that she guessed correctly, then won't she come back for the Relic of Choice?"

"She doesn't have it?" asked Ruby.

"Benni didn't say anything about Amber having a crown with her," Jaune said. "Amber, or any of the others."

The others. "So Cinder was telling the truth about Bon Bon and Tempest Shadow," Ruby said. "And Dove and Lyra too? So was Dove only pretending to be in love with Amber, was he working for Salem all along, did he tell Cinder where to find her in the first place?"

"Cinder didn't name him," Pyrrha said. "Or Lyra, for that matter. And I should not want to believe that Dove was so capable of so monstrous a deception. Whatever Amber has done, she loves him very much, and she does not deserve to have her heart used so ill."

"She didn't," Jaune added. "I … I'd bet a lot on it. Dove … I don't know, maybe he fooled me, but why would he even try to? When we talked, we … it felt like we really got each other, you know? I mean, I'm not gonna pretend that we spent a lot of time together, but when we did, it felt like I could see him, the real him, no tricks. Like I said, maybe he fooled me, but I don't think so. I think he really loves her. He loves her so much he's willing to do anything for her, to keep her safe; even this."

"You might be right," Ruby said softly. If you are, it shows the problems that can come from loving too much. "I hope you're right too."

She had liked Dove more than she had liked Amber; he had always been nice to her; there were times when he'd been a lot nicer to her than any of her teammates. He had given her his copy of The Song of Olivia; he had told her that he admired her a great deal. It was one thing to be fooled by Amber, to miss out on Amber's betrayal, but to be fooled by Dove too? That would have been a blow, and so Ruby would be glad to assume that it did not land, to think as Jaune did that it was only devotion to Amber that made Dove act the way he had.

Mind you, when he was telling me all those nice things today, he was planning to do this. Amber didn't only decide to give the Relic away to Salem on the spur of the moment.

Still, it would be nice to think that he'd been genuine before that.

"So Amber left the school without the Relic?" Ruby said, changing the subject back to one that was more important. "Why would she do that?"

"So that she couldn't get sent away," Penny said. "If she'd stayed, waiting for her moment, then Professor Ozpin would have told her to get on an airship, and you with her, and had you flown somewhere safe. That's why she had to use her semblance on you, so she could slip away."

"That makes sense," Ruby agreed. "Except why not try and take the Relic once she'd knocked me out?"

"Too many people around?" suggested Penny.

"Are we sure that she didn't take it?" asked Ruby.

"The Relic has not yet been moved from the Vault," Ozpin declared. "I would know if it had been."

He didn't explain how he would know, but Ruby guessed that they would have to take his word for it. She was reminded of the way that the headmaster had shown up in the Vault when Amber had shown them where it was; maybe he had some sort of connection to the place that would alert him whenever there were trespassers? Maybe he had cameras placed that way and hadn't seen Amber on the footage.

He probably had some way of knowing; there was no reason for him to pretend he did when he didn't.

"So she'll come back," Pyrrha said. "Amber will come back and try to retrieve the Relic."

"Very likely," Ozpin conceded. "Which is why I shall remain here and guard the school from the return of the grimm … and from Amber and her allies, if necessary."

"Are you…?" Ruby licked her lips.

This was the choice that she had pondered in the elevator on the way down, the choice between where the fighting was thickest and where the most people were in danger. It wasn't the choice that she had expected to be confronted with — she'd thought that she might have to pick between the Green Line and inner-city Vale — but the choice in its broad contours was before her nonetheless. Beyond Vale was where the fighting was thickest, but it was also where everyone else would be: Blake, Rainbow Dash, Yang, Weiss, Ren and Nora, team after team after team, and all of General Ironwood's soldiers too. Here at Beacon was less obviously dangerous now, but if Amber got the Relic and took it to Salem, then Remnant would move one step closer to its end.

Put like that, it wasn't exactly the hardest choice. "Are you sure you don't want us to stay up here with you for when she comes?"

"I taught Amber everything she knows, Miss Rose," said Ozpin. "Fall Maiden or not, I think I can handle her." He paused, and his voice, when it returned, became graver. "As much to the point, I think I must. Everything that has … befallen Amber, everything that Amber has become has been the result of my follies, my mistakes. I must be the one to set them right; I cannot shirk the responsibility off onto any other."

"But what about her semblance?" asked Penny. "What about the way that she just put Ruby to sleep? My semblance makes me immune to hers, but what's to stop her from just putting you to sleep and taking the Relic?"

"I have my own protection from Amber's semblance," Ozpin told them, without telling them what it was. "But, if I come to feel that my judgement was too rash, too proud, too self-assured to my own detriment and that of the cause, I will summon you back to retrieve the situation with your courage." He smiled. "But, in the meantime, I think that you should go and board the airships for the Green Line, if you wish to do so; you, especially, Miss Nikos; as the Champion of Mistral — the Champion of Vytal now — and all the other charming epithets your amusingly proud people have placed upon your brow, if you were to be seen to shirk the battle, I fear your absence would be thought very strange and much remarked upon."

Pyrrha's cheeks reddened. "I fear you are correct, Professor. You make me feel very sorry to be famous."

Ozpin chuckled. "Notoriety can be a grievous imposition, Miss Nikos, but you may find yourself appreciative of its benefits in time. There are times when you may find it very useful to be well known and well-beloved."

Pyrrha didn't reply. Instead, it was Ruby who said, "So we're all going down to fight? You don't want anyone to stay up here with you?" She could, she supposed, have decided to stay up here on her own, of her own volition. She didn't have to do as Ozpin said. But while it made some sense to stay here, to protect the Relic, to make sure Salem didn't get anywhere near it, that wasn't going to be very exciting.

If Ozpin thought that he could take Amber and the others by himself, then more power to him; Ruby was sure they could always be more help on the front line.

"If you wish to, Miss Rose," Ozpin said. "I do not force anyone to go anywhere."

Ruby nodded. "In that case, I'll go with Team Iron. That way, they'll have four people, and when Sunset arrives, Team Sapphire will have four people, so it all balances out and makes perfect sense."

There was an awkward pause, a moment of silence where no one spoke, and the air seemed to become brittle between them.

"Oh," Penny said. "Are you … are you sure?"

"Yes," Ruby said. "I think that this is for the best."

She didn't mind the fact that everyone wanted Sunset back, she didn't mind the fact that Sunset might actually come back — even for good — but that didn't mean that Ruby wanted to fight alongside her.

It didn't mean that she wanted to fight alongside any of them; not Sunset, nor Pyrrha … Jaune and Penny, maybe if things had been different … but things weren't different. Things were the way they were, and it was too late to change them now. Too much had happened, been said and done, too much … had been realised, by Ruby at least. She could forgive, after a fashion, she could show mercy — more mercy than she had shown last night, for sure — but she couldn't forget, couldn't pretend that none of this had happened, couldn't go back. She had to move forward.

Penny opened her mouth, then closed it, before she said in a very quiet voice, "Okay then."

"You don't have to do this," Pyrrha murmured.

"No," Ruby agreed. "But I want to."

Pyrrha looked into Ruby's silver eyes for a moment before she held out her hand. "Then good luck, and good fortune attend you."

Ruby hesitated for half a moment before she took Pyrrha's hand, squeezing it as firmly as she could, Pyrrha doing likewise. "Same to you," Ruby replied. "Now, you left Crescent Rose in the dorm room, right?"

Pyrrha released Ruby's hand. "I … don't actually think I remember seeing it."

"Now that you mention it, me neither," Jaune agreed. "At the time, I think we were all too shocked by the fact that you were unconscious like that to think about it, but I can't place it. Penny, did you see it?"

Penny shook her head. "There's nothing about it in my memory banks," she said. "Maybe … maybe the ursa ate it?"

"The ursa," Ruby repeated. Yes, right, Penny had mentioned an ursa, hadn't she? An ursa that had been … eating Ruby, now that was a thought. Ruby was actually kind of glad she'd been asleep for that.

Although, of course, if I'd been awake, I wouldn't have been eaten in the first place.

And I certainly wouldn't have let Crescent Rose get eaten.

Crescent Rose getting eaten, that was … that was not a thought she wished to entertain just yet, not unless she had no other choice.

"Do you think that's likely?"

"Well, it did eat a lot of stuff, seems like," Jaune replied. "The dorm room … it's kind of a mess. Some of your stuff is … ruined."

That doesn't sound good. "Including Crescent Rose?" Ruby asked weakly.

"We don't know," Jaune replied. "Just … it would explain why we didn't see it."

"I…" Ruby trailed off. No, her weapon hadn't ended up in an ursa's stomach, they just hadn't looked hard enough; she would find it, she wouldn't stop until she did, because it was there to be found, she knew it. "I'll go and take a look myself," she declared. "Then I'll find Yang and the others. Take care of each other out there."

She didn't say anything else, nor wait for anything else to be said to her. What was the point in a drawn-out goodbye? Well, maybe it seemed hard on Penny to just go, and perhaps to Jaune too — Pyrrha seemed to comprehend the situation perfectly — but she would … she'd make it up to her. There would be time for a longer goodbye later, and for apologies.

For now, she ran, she ran away from them, burning her aura as she used her semblance, trailing rose petals in her wake as she sprinted away from the tower and towards the dorm rooms.

Along the way, she passed evidence of grimm presence — footprints on the ground, claw marks on stone — but no actual grimm; it was just as they'd said: Professor Ozpin had killed them all. She hoped he didn't regret that he'd shot his shot too early.

For herself, Ruby kept on running.

The statue was destroyed, she could see that once she reached the main courtyard in the centre of the school; the plinth was still there, the winding rock the climbed upwards, but the huntsman and the huntress who had once stood there, the symbols of hope and courage and everything that a huntsman should be were gone. Wrecked. Smashed to smithereens and dusty fragments.

Ruby … Ruby could not help but stop and stare for a moment at the empty rock, at the statue where only the grimm remained. The heroic defenders of humanity were no more, and only the snarling beast endured, with teeth bared and claws out.

It felt … it felt almost as though it meant something.

It didn't. Ruby didn't believe that it did, they'd won the battle here, Professor Ozpin had killed all the grimm — but they had lost the statue.

It could be replaced, and Ruby was sure that it would be, when the battle was over, once Vale was safe, once the morning came, then it could all be replaced. Everything destroyed could be built anew.

But they could never forget that it had been destroyed in the first place.

Ruby headed inside the dorm room; the building didn't look to be in as bad a state as the statue, but only because there was at least some of the dorms still standing. It was still a bit of a mess, with windows broken and holes in the walls, but it would be easier to repair.

But again, they'd remember that it had been broken in the first place.

The door was unlocked. Ruby bounded up the stairs, wondering just how bad it would be once she reached their dorm room. They'd told her that it was a mess, so bad of a mess that they couldn't find Crescent Rose, but how bad was that really? What was she going to find when she got up there?

As Ruby climbed the stairs, she passed evidence of the grimm presence on the floors below: claw marks dug into the walls, doors broken down, belongings and objects strewn into the corridors; blood on the carpets. The signs were not encouraging.

They didn't get any more so when she arrived on the floor where her— where Team SAPR's dorm room was. There was the same evidence that the grimm had been here, and Team SAPR's own door had been ripped off its hinges and trampled down.

Team YRBN's door was open too, although she couldn't see the door itself. The corridor was littered with sugary drinks and snacks, bottles and cans torn open to leave dark stains, bags ripped and popcorn and candy spilling out everywhere. As Ruby walked down the corridor, with trepidation slowing her steps a little bit, Nora stuck her head out of the doorway.

"Hey, Ruby!" she cried, waving one hand.

"Nora! Hey!" Ruby cried back, a little startled by the sight.

"Ruby?" Yang said, pushing Nora gently but firmly out of the way as she stepped out of the room and into the corridor. "Ruby!" she repeated, rushing the short distance down the corridor towards her. She pulled her into a hug, but only briefly, her arms lingering around Ruby's shoulders for seconds, pressing Ruby's head against Yang's chest only for moments before she released her once again — although she kept both hands on Ruby's shoulders for the time being. "It's great to see you, but I gotta say, it's unexpected too. I kinda thought you'd have booked it out with Amber on the first airship once the fighting started."

"We would have seen her at the docking pads if she had, right?" Nora asked. "Besides, Ruby isn't the kind of person to walk away from a fight." She leaned around Yang and winked at Ruby. "Although I did think you might have rushed off to Vale to help out there."

"No," Ruby murmured. "No, I, um…" I was asleep, and I missed everything.

I was put to sleep, and I missed the battle.

I let down my guard, and someone got the drop on me, so I missed the whole battle.

I was asleep while you were all fighting to protect people.

While you were all doing your part and Sunset was defeating the monster, I was sleeping.

The fact that Ruby knew in her head that it wasn't her fault, that she couldn't be blamed for what Amber had done to her, didn't stop her from feeling ashamed of it, ashamed of what she hadn't done, ashamed of her absence, of her uselessness.

So ashamed that she didn't want to tell them about it — not to mention the fact that she'd have to tell them about Amber doing it to her, which would lead to all kinds of questions — but at the same time, it felt wrong to pretend that she'd actually fought in the battle, that she'd joined her teammates, that she'd protected anyone, that she'd done … anything. It would be stolen valour to which she had no claim.

That didn't make it easy to tell the truth.

Thankfully, Yang came to her rescue with a barrage of questions. "So where is Amber, then? Did you find Jaune and Pyrrha? Where are they? What are you doing up here?"

"Amber's … gone," Ruby replied. "And yeah, I found Jaune and Pyrrha and Penny too; I just left them to come here to … what are you guys doing here?"

"We're just seeing what the damage is; Rainbow Dash said we had a couple of minutes before the airships arrive," Nora replied. "Is that … is that why you're here?"

"Sort of, I…" Ruby hesitated for a second. "I … when I got Amber away, I left Crescent Rose behind in my room, and so I've come back to get it."

Yang stared down at her. Her violet eyes narrowed, and Ruby could hardly blame her; as excuses went, it was absolutely pathetic.

In my defence, I didn't have a lot of time to come up with a story.

"So … the battle started, and you grabbed Amber and left—"

"Yep."

"Without your weapon?" Yang finished.

Ruby swallowed. "Uh huh."

Nora winced. "That wasn't very smart of you, Ruby."

"Nora!" Ren's rebuking voice emerged out of the Team YRBN dorm.

"Hey, if no one tells her, how's she going to learn?" Nora responded.

Yang ignored Nora, but kept on staring down at Ruby.

"You really just … forgot?" she demanded. "You just up and left and forgot to grab Crescent Rose?"

"Yeah," Ruby said. "Why else would I be coming up here to get it?"

Yang let out a soft snort. "I'm sure you were eager to get Amber somewhere safe, but you need to be more thoughtful. What if you'd run into a grimm on the way?"

"Then I would have been in trouble, I guess," Ruby muttered, looking down at the floor rather than up at her sister. It wasn't fun being scolded for something that you hadn't done, but at the same time, Ruby couldn't really argue about it, because if she had done the thing that she had just admitted doing to Yang, then she would have deserved this scolding a lot more than she'd ever deserved the way that Sunset and Pyrrha had talked down to her.

Yang's hands fell away from Ruby's shoulders.

"Okay," she muttered. "But it might have been better if you didn't have to come back; it … it isn't great in there."

So I've been told, Ruby thought, but didn't say it because that might have led to more questions. Instead, she walked around Yang — who stepped aside and backwards against the wall to let her pass — and towards Nora, who also retreated a couple of steps into the doorway of her own room.

Ruby couldn't see Ren in there, but she found that she could imagine him tidying up anything that was out of place, moving with a quiet efficiency to restore order to the chaos.

She stepped on something; she felt and heard glass crack beneath her. Ruby looked down. It was the picture of the four of them from Benni Havens', way back at the start of the year.

God, that was such a long time ago, wasn't it?

Look how happy we all look.

Look how happy I look.

Ruby's gaze lingered upon herself, smiling, making peace signs with both hands while Sunset rested her chin on the top of Ruby's head. The enthusiastic beam on Ruby's face, it seemed to belong to a different person. A younger person, a child. From before she grew up and realised what the people she was smiling with really were. How pathetic Sunset was, and unworthy of her admiration.

Sunset had destroyed this picture and what it meant long before the grimm reached the door.

But at least she could look down at it and feel sad instead of angry, feel pity instead of hatred. That was … something, right?

Ruby stepped past and over the picture in its broken frame, over the smashed and shattered door and into the doorway of the Team SAPR dorm room, where…

Where it would take a lot more than quiet efficiency to restore order out of the chaos and confusion that confronted her.

It was a mess. Objects had been tossed aside, mementos of their missions and battles chewed up and trampled, the bedclothes too, and the mattresses torn to shreds and scattered feathers. Books had been destroyed, their pages littering the floor.

Pages that Ruby recognised. She knelt down, pale fingers reaching out to grasp one old, faded, yellowing page, ragged now and torn down one edge, where it lay on the floor by her feet.

And Olivia rushed forward, ignoring the jeers and the mockery of the gathered knights and lords to lay her sword and shield at the feet of the King.

"Good Lord!" she cried. "I beg of you a boon, as dear to my heart as any that has ever been asked of you before."

"Peace ho, friends, let the maid be heard," declared the King. "What, child, what gift would you have of us?"

"To serve your grace, in arms and offices," Olivia answered him. "I have, I do confess, neither horse nor saddle nor gilded spurs. I have not a shirt of mail or a coat of scale, still less a glimmering carapace. But I have sword and shield to lay here at thy feet, and I have a valiant heart which shall never falter. Give me leave to prove myself to thee, and on my life, I swear that you shall not regret it."

The old wizard Osferth bent low and whispered in the King's ear.

The page fell from Ruby's trembling fingers. The Song of Olivia, her book, Dove's book, the book that he had given to her, the old book, the rare book, the seldom-found and out-of-print book was … ruined. Torn to shreds. That was one of the pages that was in good condition; others looked to be much worse, with holes in them or torn in half or worse, with bits of paper mingling with the feathers. It would take an archivist to put her lovely book, Dove's book, the book that bound them, to put it back together again would be the work of months, perhaps years, if it could be done. If there weren't pages that were resting in a grimm's belly.

There was other damage to the room, most notably the hole in the closet wall that was mirrored by other holes in all the rooms to the right of theirs, but none of that meant so much to Ruby in this moment as the destruction of her book.

It was hers, or had been hers, however you were supposed to say it. Her book, her treasure, a gift given to her. Her book destroyed, her dreams shattered, always her.

And Dove … he had been a good man, if Pyrrha and Jaune were right that it was only the love of Amber that had driven him to throw his lot in with her. He had been a good man, a good friend, a good huntsman, and that book had been a reminder of that, something to carry with her in memory of who he had been before Amber had come back — something that it might have been better hadn't happened.

But that was gone too.

Ruby sniffed, and a tear fell from one silver eye to roll gently down her face.

Ruby felt a hand upon her shoulder. Nora's hand, as Nora knelt beside her, managing to be taller than Ruby in the kneeling where she wouldn't have managed it standing up.

"It's sad, I know," Nora murmured. "Believe me, I know. Places, homes, they don't turn out to be as safe as you thought they would, as you wish they would. You see the light ahead, shining in the darkness, and you think that you've found somewhere warm and welcoming, somewhere you can rest, somewhere the darkness can't get to you. But the darkness follows, and the refuge … it doesn't last." She smiled, with her mouth closed, and with her free hand, she wiped the tear from Ruby's cheek. "But so long as you're alive, so long as you can keep moving, and so long as you're with people who care about you, then you can always start again somewhere new." She squeezed Ruby's shoulder vigorously. "So long as you're still here, and so are they, you can do anything. Everything else … it's sad, but it's nothing that can't be replaced."

Nora wasn't wrong about that — some of this stuff really was irreplaceable — but Ruby understood that she was trying, and that she made a pretty good point, even though it wasn't completely correct, and so she smiled back at her. "Thanks, Nora. How's your room?"

"Not as bad as yours," Nora admitted. "It looks like something came in through the bathroom, so that's a mess. Yang's conditioner is all over the floor, and whatever it was ate Ren's face cream, but apart from that, I think we got off … we'll be okay."

Ruby nodded. "I'm glad," she said. She stood up, half-turning so that she was facing Nora but could look at Yang at the same time. "Hey, listen, you guys are going out to fight, right? At the Green Line?"

"Sure are," Yang replied. "We were just about to head out now."

"Can I come with you?" Ruby asked. "Not down to the airships, to the line, to fight with you, make up the fourth person on your team, since I guess Blake's with the Atlesians."

"But what about your team?" Nora asked. "With Sunset away on her mission, that leaves just—"

"Penny's with them too," Ruby pointed out.

"I know, Rainbow loaned her out to them since it was just Jaune and Pyrrha otherwise, and she had Blake," Nora said. "But now that you're here too—"

"They've still got Penny," Ruby said.

"Okay," said Yang, "but that's still just three people."

"One of which is Pyrrha, and another one is Penny," Ruby declared. "They'll be fine."

"And so will we, without Blake," Nora said. "It's not like we haven't got plenty of practice managing without her."

"Nora—" Yang began.

"I'm not saying it to criticise," Nora insisted. "She's on her path, and good for her. She knows where she wants to go, where she wants to make her new home, and I honestly wish her all the best with that. I hope she's happy up in the north freezing her fingers and toes off. But I'm just saying, it's not so new to us that we can't handle ourselves. Yeah, there's only three of us, but one of them is me and another one is Yang." She grinned. "We'll be fine."

"I know you will, I'm sure you will, I'm not saying that you won't, but…" Ruby trailed off for a second. "Please, I…"

I don't want to fight alongside my teammates anymore.

Yang's brow furrowed as she took a step towards Ruby. "Is everything okay?"

"I … I'd just like to go into battle with you," Ruby said. "Even if it is only this once."

Yang stared down at Ruby for a second. She glanced at Nora, who nodded.

A smile spread across Yang's face, reaching her eyes, lighting them up even brighter than usual. "Now, how can I say no to a request like that from my little sister?"

Nora slapped Ruby on the back. "Welcome to Team Iron, Ruby. Team … Y-R-R-N Iron?"

"Team Yarn," Ren suggested, unseen, his voice floating out of the YRBN dorm room.

"That's a terrible name," Nora replied. Her voice dropped. "We'll spell Iron with two Rs; it's fine."

Yang clasped Ruby on the shoulder. "This is gonna be awesome," she said. "But remember to bring your weapon this time."

I really wish I could have come up with a different excuse. "Yes, Yang," Ruby muttered as she turned away and walked into the room.

It was a mess, which made it hard to see things, but it wasn't immediately obvious where Crescent Rose was. Ruby could see why Pyrrha, Jaune, and Penny hadn't noticed it; it wasn't as though it was sitting right there and they just hadn't bothered to look.

Ruby walked forwards into the room — she couldn't avoid stepping on scattered pages, as much as she tried not to — before getting down and looking under the beds; hopefully, it would have — yes! There it was! Under Jaune's bed, it must have been kicked there by the grimm while it was rampaging around. Crescent Rose sat in shadow, but it seemed to almost glow regardless. The room around it was in ruins, but it was pristine, untouched, untarnished. As Ruby stretched out her small hand to grab hold of it, as her fingertips touched the crimson metal, she felt a bolt of lightning jolt up her arm.

As she pulled out the weapon from under the bed, as she stood up with Crescent Rose in her hand, Ruby felt … better, stronger, lighter.

She felt ready.

"Okay," she said. "Let's go."

 

[ScipioSmith]

Thin White Line

​

The Skyrays soared through the night air, the lights on their wings illuminating the darkness as they raced over the open ground beyond Vale towards the Green Line.

Rainbow crouched in the open doorway of the airship, looking downwards. Night had fallen, but there was enough moonlight to make out some of the land that they were passing over; it was hard to make out details, but then, Rainbow wasn't sure that there was a lot of detail to make out. Most of the space between the Green Line and the Red — not all, there was that bit of the city that had spread out on the wrong side of the wall, but most — was either farmland or just wild and untamed. There weren't any villages out here — there weren't even any farmhouses — for all that the Green Line was meant to be the point behind which it was safe, people lived behind the Red Line where they could, behind the walls, and went out beyond them to do their work before retreating back behind the walls again at night. That wasn't the same everywhere — there were bits of city beyond the walls, gradually expanding outside due to the pressure, and Rainbow was sure that if she searched the whole area, she could find some farmers like the Apples living out in the open beside their land, but right now, all that Rainbow could see directly underneath them was fields, with only barns or…

Okay, no, no, she could see someone's living space, even if she wouldn't call it a home; they'd just flown over a shepherd's hut on wheels parked in a field next to a flock of sheep. Trixie had lived in one of those during her time at Canterlot; she'd preferred it to boarding at the school, although that one had been a lot more colourful than the beige-looking hut they'd just flown over. Rainbow thought it must belong to an actual shepherd because of, well, the sheep, but she hoped that whoever owned it had gotten themselves behind the walls of Vale, because if the grimm broke through, then he'd be in a lot more trouble than the sheep would.

Not that the grimm were going to break through without a fight, but you never knew how a battle might turn out.

For the rest, at least this part of the area, the part that they were flying over, it all looked pretty deserted. There were fields, but they'd all been harvested by now; there were some livestock — sheep or cattle or goats — grazing in grassy fields, even some horses — at least one of which looked to have got out of its field — but no people, and the fields were only grass. There were some enclosed woods that Rainbow could see as she looked around, and some country lanes with walls and fences and such, but not a lot. It was very empty land. Empty and barren, now that fall was here and all the crops had been gathered in already.

Not bad land to fight on, if they had to fight their way back across it. Not a whole lot of cover as far as Rainbow Dash could tell, but the grimm didn't shoot for the most part, so the lack of cover wasn't such a big deal. And as much to the point, there wasn't any cover for the grimm either, except maybe in those enclosed woods. Only the darkness would prevent the Atlesians from seeing the grimm coming, and what they could see, they could shoot down before the grimm could sink their teeth into them.

Unlike during their descent on Beacon, the Skyrays weren't being covered by fighters; there were no grimm in this part of the sky, so the fighters had already raced ahead to get ready to confront the grimm over the Green Line, while the slower Skyrays lagged behind. If Rainbow looked up instead of looking down, then she could see the fighters ahead, darting in and out amongst the much larger cruisers as they formed an airborne line in counterpoint to the line of ground troops down below. Once the bombers — even slower than the Skyrays — arrived too, then they would be able to rain fire down upon the grimm from the air, inflicting huge casualties upon the horde before it got close to returning the favour against the Atlesians.

Of course, the same didn't exactly apply to the parts of the Green Line that weren't being held by the Atlesians. What the Valish would do next was anyone's guess, and as for the Mistralians, they only had that one ship, and while that one ship had a lot of guns, it was still just one ship, and a pretty old ship at that. They wouldn't be able to put out the same volume of fire — and that was without getting into their artillery, if they had any — and so they would be a lot more vulnerable to a charge from the grimm. The Atlesians could easily find themselves outflanked.

We'll just have to hope that the Beacon students can make all the difference, I guess.

There were fewer Skyrays as part of their group, flying over the Green Line towards the Atlesian position, than there had been when they swooped down on Beacon. School choice was the reason for that; at Beacon, they had all fought together, but now, they were getting split up according to what school they went to. Atlas students to the Atlesian line, Beacon students to the Valish line if the Valish were in either mood or state to take them, Haven students to the Mistralian line — plus Pyrrha, she supposed, although nobody had confirmed that. So there were fewer airships accompanying the Skyray that carried Rainbow Dash, but on those airships were, being as modest as need be, some of the best students.

Rainbow wasn't alone on the Skyray. Blake was with her, standing over her, the tails of her tailcoat flapping up and down behind her as the night breeze swept through the airship; Rarity, too, with one hand on the hilt of her sword and the other holding onto a ceiling strap; and Ciel, eyes closed and head bowed, murmuring something so quietly that Rainbow couldn't make it out. Rainbow thought she was praying.

Team TTSS were with them too, with Maud having joined the team in place of Tempest. Rainbow hadn't told them about Tempest just yet; it didn't seem the right moment to break the fact that the comrade they thought had died had actually tricked them and run off to join … an enemy whom Rainbow couldn't even properly name or describe to them. That was the kind of thing that, to Rainbow's mind, would keep until the battle was over. Otherwise, it might distract them at just the wrong moment.

What good would it do them to find out now? What were they going to do with the knowledge?

Rainbow would tell them, just not yet. When they could sit down to hear it.

For now, they should keep their minds on the battle ahead.

"See anything, Rainbow Dash?" asked Trixie, raising her voice to be heard above the Skyray engine.

"A lot of empty space," Rainbow replied. "And a shepherd's hut, like yours."

"Trrrrrixie does not have a shepherd's hut!" Trixie declared. "Trrrrrrixie has a wagon."

Rainbow frowned. "What's the difference?"

"Trixie has bigger wheels," Trixie said.

Rainbow smiled. "Ciel?"

Ciel didn't reply. She kept on murmuring — praying — for a few seconds longer, before she opened her eyes and raised her head. "Yes, Rainbow Dash?"

"What can you tell us about the commander at the front?"

"Lieutenant Colonel Olive Harper," Ciel said. "Commanding officer of the Fourth Squadron, until a full colonel is appointed. Born in Atlas. Twenty-nine years old—"

"Twenty-nine?" Rainbow spluttered. "Twenty-nine years old? She's twenty-nine and the lieutenant colonel commanding a squadron?"

"Is that young?" asked Blake.

"Yes!" Rainbow said loudly. "Yes, that is very young."

"She has had a meteoric rise through the ranks," Ciel confirmed. "And received seven commendations on the way."

"Impressive," Starlight murmured. "She must be quite something."

"We'll see that for ourselves when we meet her soon enough," Blake said. "What about the commander of the other unit, the … First?"

"Yes, the First Squadron is on the line, with the Third in reserve," Ciel replied. "We are being dropped off at Fourth Battalion headquarters, since their line adjoins onto the Valish and is thus … potentially more at risk, but if the situation changes, we could be asked to redeploy towards the left of the line."

"So who's the commanding officer there?"

"Colonel Redvers Buller is the commanding officer of the First Squadron," Ciel said. "While Lieutenant Colonel Dunnet commands the battalion, the ground element. Forty-eight years old, born in Atlas, possessed of a long record of service, including…" She paused.

"Including what?" asked Sunburst.

"Several years spent in Mistral cooperating in anti-White Fang operations with the Mistralian Imperial Police," Ciel said.

There was a moment of silence in the airship.

"Well," Starlight said. "Just because he's spent some time going up against the White Fang doesn't mean … it's not like Blake's White Fang, after all."

"No," Blake said. "No, I'm not. And the fact is that the White Fang does need to be stopped. This Colonel Dunnet has been doing good work, I'm sure."

Rainbow nodded but didn't say anything. So long as Colonel Dunnet remembered that Blake wasn't part of the White Fang anymore — that she never had been, officially — then it would all be fine.

"So, Dash," Trixie said. "How did it feel to be in charge?" She grinned. "And what's it going to feel like taking orders from someone else now?"

Rainbow snorted. "It's going to be fine, Trixie. I took charge back at Beacon because … because someone had to. But if someone else, someone better, wants to step up, then that's fine too. And a lieutenant colonel at twenty-nine with a row of commendations … I can get behind the idea that that's someone better."

They were getting close now, making their final approach to the Atlesian line. Rainbow no longer had to rely on the moonlight, as the Atlesians had set up lights all around their camp and rigged up little footlights on the ground, pointing up into the sky or across the grass so that they could see better. Landing zones were marked with rings of glowing blue and green lights, while still more lights illuminated the spider droids that sat at the rear of the line, guns angled upwards.

The Skyrays began to descend, rotating in the air as they dropped downwards into the pre-marked landing zones.

"This is it!" the pilot called from out of the cockpit. "Good hunting!"

"Copy that," Rainbow said. "Let's go!"

She led the way, leaping down from the airship, with the others swiftly following, all jumping down and crushing the grass beneath their feet. The Skyray barely waited for the last of them — Sunburst, his cape billowing out behind him — to get out before it was taking off again, heading back the way it had come in the direction of Vale. They were probably getting held in reserve, for any units that needed transport — or, in an emergency if there were no better airships available, air support.

Rainbow looked around the illuminated rear echelon. There were a few troops around, but not many; most of them must have been deployed to the front line.

An emergency aid station had been set up inside a white tent with the staff and star medical symbol on it; the sides had been rolled up so that Rainbow could see that it was empty at the moment, with doctors and nurses waiting for the casualties that would come later. It was only a triage point, to patch up the badly wounded while they waited for transport up to one of the medical frigates where they had all the serious medical equipment, but that triage might be the difference between life and death for some.

Music filled the night air, courtesy of a cluster of Atlesian Knights with speakers mounted onto their backs, playing appropriately martial music to call the battalion to arms. Maybe the sound might reach out beyond the Atlesian lines, all the way to the grimm horde gathered across the field and let the monsters know that they weren't afraid.

Probably not — it wasn't that loud — but it was a nice thought.

Other androids — and some soldiers too, troops without armour, wearing the all-blue jumpsuits of the artillery company — were attending to the spider droids that were spread out all along the rear line. Atlesian fire support didn't only come from the air; these spider droids were integral in providing a punch from down on the ground. A mobile battalion like the fourth would have forty of them, and a static force like the Mantle garrison would have more than that. They only had four legs, so the name was a bit incorrect, but they were quite spidery legs, like a tarantula without the hair, each one ending in a blunt point down into the ground. The four legs formed an X with the body in the centre, so that, more than a spider, they kind of looked like they could form the basis for a kind of grimm. Their heads resembled old-fashioned helmets and were stuck on the front of the body like a lizard or a bird. The spider droid was a modular weapons system, able to be equipped with a variety of different weapons as the commanding officer or the situation demanded. It looked like Colonel Harper had gone with a pretty even mixture of twin 105 howitzers, one mounted on each side of the head, and boxy missile launchers, again mounted in pairs on either side of the droid's shoulders. Fresh boxes of missiles and fresh shells lay in piles behind the feet of the spider droids, with androids and humans alike waiting with all their necessary cranes and equipment to reload the droids when they were out.

Rainbow glanced at Blake and saw that she was looking at the spider droids with what looked to Rainbow like apprehension in her golden eyes.

"Brings back memories?" Rainbow guessed.

Blake glanced at her. "You could say that."

Rainbow clasped her on the shoulder. "Just remember, you're on the same side now. So stop worrying and learn to appreciate the firepower."

"Ooh, that's right, you've never been in an all-out battle as part of the Atlesian military, have you, Blakey?" Neon asked, appearing in a rainbow burst with one arm around Blake's neck, leaning off of her as she smirked.

"No," Blake murmured. "Have you?"

"…no," Neon admitted. "But at least I know what to expect."

"Students!" they were hailed by a burly sergeant major with a sash across his armoured chest and a swagger stick held in one hand. "This way!"

The assembled Atlas students — not just Rainbow and her friends, not just TTSS and FNKI, the whole assembled student body who had come down to fight on the line — followed in his wake. The sergeant major led them down a path marked by two rows of red lights, down a slight descent in the fields, to where a command post had been set up.

It wasn't much of a sight to see, just a few poles stuck into the ground with some netting strung up between them to give some protection from a grimm just swooping down from above, and underneath, a couple of tables and a holoprojector.

Nearby the makeshift command post stood a couple of knights, each with a pole mounted to their backs from which flew the colours of the Fourth Battalion. One was the Atlesian Colour, the Atlas spear and gear upon its grey background, with the IV emblazoned on it in pure shining white. The other was the Battalion Colour, a black bull with fiery red eyes on a white field, and around the fringes embroidered the battle honours of the unit going back to the Great War and beyond: Mantle Incursion, Ice Field Barrens, Cold Harbour, Northampton, First-Eighth River Isis, Four Sovereigns, Crystal City, Stonecross, Vacuo Campaign. They would be able to sew 'Vale' onto the flag come tomorrow morning.

Standing just outside the command post, as if on guard, was a Mistralian orderly, an affectation enjoyed by some senior officers. This particular orderly was dressed in a vivid violet robe and lavender trousers, with a curved scimitar worn at his hip.

At the moment, a cluster of officers stood around the projector, which was displaying a vertical image of the battlefield. A single line of white crossed the ground, with various lines of red in front, and images of the Atlesian spider droids behind. The white line was their deployment then, but what were the red lines?

The students gathered on the fringes of the command post, as yet unnoticed, unsure — Rainbow was unsure, at least — whether they ought to bring themselves to the notice of officers examining the hologram.

"Ma'am," the sergeant major said. "The students are here."

A woman half turned to look at them. She was about medium height, not too tall but not short either, but slightly built, with narrow shoulders that only looked a little wider because she was wearing a blue cloak over them that swathed half her body from view, although the arm she was gesturing with had thrown the other half of it aside, revealing a spiked pauldron on her shoulder, an arm that was bare with the sleeve of her uniform cut away, and a vambrace on one arm. Rainbow could also see that she had a sword at her hip, and that was only what she could see beneath her cloak. Her hair was black and half-hidden beneath the high-peaked cap she wore on her head, but not so hidden that Rainbow couldn't see it peeking out from behind her head, just above her shoulders.

Rainbow straightened up and fancied that she wasn't the only student to do so.

"Good evening," she said, in a slightly high-pitched voice. She paused for a moment, and when she spoke again, it was softer, as though she wasn't sure if she really wanted to be overheard. "Good evening, good evening, the colonel said." She took another pause, blinking her dark eyes, before clearing her throat. "Good evening," she repeated. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Harper of the Fourth Battalion; this is Lieutenant Colonel Dunnet of the First."

Colonel Dunnet turned to regard them. He was a middle-aged man with a round face and curly brown sideburns descending down his cheeks towards his mouth; his white jacket had three layers of silver buttons running down it and black lacework crossing his chest between them.

His lip curled into a sneer. "Rather more faunus than I was expecting."

Rainbow didn't glance at Blake, although she wanted to. She hoped Blake remembered, as she was remembering right now, something that she had said to Blake way back on their first mission together, to Cold Harbour, at the start of the semester: some Atlesian officers might not mind their manners, which made it all the more important to mind yours.

Hopefully, she hadn't forgotten.

It was a good thing Rainbow hadn't forgotten either.

Blake didn't say anything. No one did, except for Colonel Harper, who said, "Haven't you been watching the tournament, Warren? If you had, few of these students would be strangers to you." A slight smile crossed lips painted a darker brown than her skin. "And if I'm identifying them right, some of these students here have distinguished themselves."

"Not here, they haven't," declared Colonel Dunnet. He turned away. "But you may as well brief them, since they're here."

"Thank you," Colonel Harper said quietly. She picked up a stick from off the table, raised her voice so that it carried to the assembled students. "Here," she said, using her stick to gesture to the main white line on the map, "is the Green Line, where we are. The Valish didn't leave us the best defensive position in Remnant, but we've had several months to improve it, so now that the grimm have finally shown up, I can say with some confidence that we're ready for them. We haven't been able to finish all the wall that the Valish stopped building, but we have filled in the gaps with earthworks and raised elevation all along the line; we'll be firing down at the grimm every step of the way. In front of the rampart, we've strung barbed wire and set up anti-ursa barriers and caltrops to break up the grimm assault in its final moments; their charge won't hit as a single solid mass, but in disorder and disarray. In front of that, we've dug two parallel ditches and mined the space between the ditches and in front of the outer ditch. Even if not a single soldier fired on the grimm as they came in, they still wouldn't reach our line intact or in what passes for formation amongst them." The smile returned to her face. "However, we are of course going to be firing at them."

A chuckle rippled through the Atlas students.

"As you will have seen on the way down here, we have our spiders deployed to provide fire support from behind the line, joined by our cruisers and bombers. Mortar platoons are closer to the line, while on the line, we have our redoubtable infantry."

"Permission to speak, ma'am?" Ciel asked.

"Granted … Soleil, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Ciel replied. "What about the new Paladins?"

"Our ramparts provide a height advantage, but they aren't huge," Colonel Harper explained. "Our Paladins, and the remaining spiders, can still fire over the top of them, just about." She paused and pointed with her stick at the right flank, where the white line turned inwards. "Here is where our position meets the Valish. We haven't had any difficulties with them, they didn't attack when their commanding officer went off the rails, but this join is still the weak link; even if all of the events of tonight hadn't happened, I don't think they'd be up to the level of an Atlesian battalion. That's why I've deployed the Military Huntsman company there, with the Light Company on the left flank joining to First Battalion and the remaining companies in between. I want you students to concentrate on the right flank, spreading yourselves out to the left but adding most of your firepower there, where we're most vulnerable. I know you're young, but I've seen enough to know you already pack one hell of a punch. Is that understood?"

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am!" the students chorused.

Colonel Dunnet sniffed.

"Alright then," Colonel Harper said. "I know that you're not a part of this unit, but I sincerely hope that this is only the first time that we get to fight alongside one another for the glory of Atlas. Sergeant Major Waters will show you the way. Go to it!"

There was no cheer. The lieutenant colonel's words had been too low key for that, although Rainbow thought that she must be saving her speech for when the whole battalion could hear it, not just the students. Nevertheless, she'd set out what they were doing, where they were going, and what had been done to prepare the position with clarity, and Rainbow felt quite content as she and the other Atlas students — and Blake — followed the sergeant major down away from the command post, leaving Colonel Harper and the other officers behind, still finalising their discussions, making their final preparations.

"Colonel Harper feels the weight of her command," Blake murmured to Rainbow Dash as the two walked briskly down a track marked by more red lights laid out along the ground. "It's pressing on her shoulders."

Rainbow glanced at her. "How do you mean?"

"'Good evening, good evening, the colonel said,'" Blake said softly. "Her words."

"Yeah," Rainbow acknowledged. "Yeah, I thought that was a little odd. Does it mean something to you?"

"It's a poem, from around the Great War," Blake told her. "'Good morning, good morning, the General said, when we met him last week on our way to the line. Now the soldiers he smiled at are most of them dead, and we're cursing his staff for incompetent swine.' She's … aware of her responsibility."

"Good," Rainbow said. "She should be aware, because it is her responsibility." She paused. "But we're not going to be cursing her tomorrow, I'm sure."

"No," Blake agreed. "No, I'm sure not. Personally, I have to admit I'm glad we're reporting to Colonel Harper instead of Colonel Dunnet."

"Me too," Rainbow muttered. "Even if it won't be the last time that we have to deal with someone like that. Which it won't," she added, glancing at Blake to see how she took that.

Blake's face twitched a little, but her voice was calm as she said, "No, I suppose it won't be." She paused for a second, before she said, "So, what's a Military Huntsman company, and what makes it so special? I thought huntsmen in the military were called Specialists?"

"Oh, yeah, you don't know, do you?" Rainbow asked. "Okay, Atlesian Military One-Oh-One coming up: an infantry battalion is divided into six companies: A military huntsman company, a light company, three rifle companies, and an artillery company. Plus battalion headquarters, but that's its own thing, and we'll ignore the cruisers and the airships for now, that's all … we'll get into that some other time. The point is that you've already seen the artillery company; it's all those spider droids set up on the back line. We didn't see them, but there'll be officers around there somewhere directing the fire, checking the range, feeding coordinates to the droids, that sort of thing."

They passed some mortar crews, also spread out in a line, a mixture of large one hundred and twenty millimetre and smaller sixty millimetre mortars with crews of Knights working under the direction of human NCOs, loading the mortars ready to fire.

"Are they part of the artillery company too?" asked Blake.

"No," Rainbow said. "Mortar platoons are assigned to infantry companies, which we're getting to now. The light company is an old thing, goes back to before the Great War; it's all the best shots in the battalion, the smartest men, the quickest men. That's the theory, anyway. Guys who could be trusted to act on their own initiative and not because a sergeant was yelling in their ear. They're the ones with the yellow stripes on their armour, but other than that, they're pretty much the same as the rifle companies, who have the blue stripes on their armour. Each company has a company aitch-queue, a mortar platoon, about three rifle platoons of … thirty to fifty soldiers each, that's about right, isn't it, Ciel?"

Ciel looked at her. "As far as summarising our military apparatus in double quick time goes, you are not doing too badly," she granted. "Each company also includes an assault platoon, men chosen to take the lead in storming enemy defensive positions, who thus have a greater than usual supply of special weapons."

"'Special weapons'?" asked Blake.

"Light machine guns, grenade launchers, sniper rifles, armour piercing rifles," Ciel said. "Flamethrowers."

"Flamethrowers?" Blake repeated. "You use flamethrowers?"

"Only in assault platoons," Ciel said.

"I … have never heard of this," Blake said. "In all my time in … you know. I never heard of Atlesian troops being equipped like that." She frowned a little. "Is there a lot of call for a unit like that?"

"No," Ciel admitted. "It goes back to the Great War and the stalemate on the northern front. But nobody wants to abandon the concept in case it should become necessary again."

"Mmm," Blake murmured. "And what about the military huntsmen, where do they differ?"

"Military Huntsmen are people who went through combat school but didn't go onto Atlas Academy," Rainbow replied. "Who … couldn't," she said quietly, in case someone with very sharp ears was listening and took offence to anything harsher than that. "Like Rarity, if she'd decided to put a uniform on."

"I'm not sure armour grey is really my colour, darling," Rarity observed.

Rainbow grinned. "They don't actually wear armour, as you'll see in just a bit; they wear the white uniforms and the peaked caps. The point is that, even though they haven't had the chance to become Specialists, they still want to serve Atlas, and they have skills and training that other soldiers don't, so they get all assigned together in a special part of the unit."

"Wouldn't it make more sense to spread them out?" Blake asked. "Distribute them amongst the other companies where they can be more effective?"

"That is a view, to be sure," Ciel allowed. "But presently, doctrine feels that they make more of a difference in a concentrated mass, able to intervene at the decisive point, than spread out in small packages that dilute their effectiveness. As now: they could not be tasked to hold the lynchpin of the line if they were not brigaded together."

Speaking of the line, they had almost reached it: the mixture of Valish wall and Atlesian-built earth rampart rose up sharply in front of them, a wall of intermingled earth and brick in interlocking sections traversing the landscape, cutting sharply across the Valish fields. The light of the broken moon shone on the Atlesian soldiers — most of them stationary, a few still moving into position — standing on the wall or on the earthworks; the light glinted off the armour of the infantry or illuminated the white overcoats of the military huntsmen. Soldiers knelt with their rifles to their shoulders, they crouched down behind light machine guns on their stands, they crouched on the ground with light support weapons — which were like light machine guns, except they were even lighter so you could, in theory, pick one up and fire it from the hip if you really wanted to — or they loaded rocket launchers and rested them on their shoulders. Knights stood on the wall too, two knights for every human soldier, although the Knights had only rifles, none of the other weapons available to the Atlesian infantry. The way the moonlight fell on them, they kind of looked like ghosts, an army of ghosts surrounding the army of the living, phantoms risen up to fight again.

If only. It would be great to have you here, Kogetsu.

Paladins — and some more spider droids, mounting four heavy laser cannons on their shoulders and arms for direct fire — stood just behind the earth rampart. The walls the Valish had built were just a little too high for them to see over, or at least to fire over, but the earthworks only came up to about their chests, with the blocky white heads of the Paladins able to clear the ramparts with ease, not to mention stick their arms over the top without getting in the way of the infantry in front. The Paladins were grouped in fours, four machines standing in relatively close proximity and then a gap before four more, while the spider droids were deployed individually, spaced out along the line.

"Are they their own company as well?" asked Blake.

Rainbow hesitated. "I … don't actually know," she admitted; because they were so new, she wasn't sure where exactly they fitted into the org chart.

"I do not believe so," Ciel murmured. "I could be mistaken, but I believe they are assigned at the company level."

"Here we are," the Sergeant Major said. "This is you lot. Up you get, face front, but keep an eye on what's happening to your right. And good hunting, and God be with you."

"And with you, Sergeant Major," Ciel murmured.

They had been led to the corner of the line, where the earthworks ended, but a trench had been hastily dug perpendicular to it, cutting through the earth and heading back towards the students. Looking over the trench and pulling her goggles down over her eyes so that she could see better in the dark, Rainbow could see the Valish troops across the field, lying or crouching down on the grass, a few of them moving furtively here and there, keeping watch on the Atlesians. She could make out the outline of one of their cumbersome tanks a little bit behind, although it wasn't pointing any of its guns at them.

The Atlesian trench was occupied by a thin line of military huntsmen, men and women in white double-breasted overcoats and white peaked caps with blue bands wrapped around them, soldiers with rifles in their hands but a variety of more unique and individualised weapons slung across their backs or at their hips: the weapons with which they might have hoped once to become huntsmen and Specialists.

None of them looked at the students, and Rainbow wondered if they might feel a little bit jealous.

Maybe, but she was sure they'd be able to keep it professional.

Anyway, nobody moved to join the military huntsmen in the trench; instead, they swarmed up the plentiful plethora of ladders that had been put on the inner side of the ramparts, climbing onto the earthworks or the wall and spreading out amongst the military huntsmen there, starting from the end of the works and moving leftwards until they were in amongst the rifle company adjoining the military huntsmen.

Rainbow and Blake found themselves more or less in the centre of the line, with Rarity and Ciel; Team TTSS was on their right, and Team FNKI on their left as they stood upon the earthwork, Atlesian troops and Knights around them, Paladins and spider droids looming behind them, standing on the rampart looking out.

Before them lay the Atlesian defensive preparations just as Colonel Harper had described them: directly in front of the earthworks and the wall, a mixture of barbed wire strung across the ground; metallic anti-ursa obstacles, those metal Xs standing upright and joined together; barely visible caltrops with the points sticking upwards at various angles. If the grimm reached them, then they would be slowed by all those obstacles, and some would bypass them more swiftly than others, disrupting the impact of an otherwise solid wall of grimm slamming headfirst into the Atlesian line. Then there was a ditch beyond that, a ditch that Rainbow couldn't see the bottom of because of the angle at which it had been dug. She couldn't see the minefield that Colonel Harper had described, but then, you weren't supposed to see the mines before you stepped on them, so that made perfect sense. Then there was another ditch, of which Rainbow could see even less, and then Colonel Harper had declared that there were more mines.

And then, beyond the mines, a great expanse of open ground; maybe it was farmed ordinarily, but the harvest had been gathered in; maybe it was too far from Vale to get to safely and back again before nightfall, and so it was just left fallow and bare and unwanted. Either way, it was barren now, just ground, flat ground without cover or obstacle, just a field that you could race across as fast as you could with nothing getting in your way.

And on the other side of that field waited the grimm.

They were massed. They absolutely well and truly deserved to be described as a horde. The grimm spread out across the landscape, swallowing it up in a black mass, and even the whites of their bony faces and their armour plate became swallowed up by the darkness of their sheer numbers. Small beowolves and ursai, tiny creeps who were dwarfed even by the immature grimm around them, made up the front ranks; just they alone were so many that it was hard to spot the larger and older grimm that Rainbow absolutely knew would be waiting there in the middle ranks; the only grimm that Rainbow could spot were the particularly big ones: the looming goliaths that rose out of the horde like skyscrapers rising above the ordinary houses to dominate the skyline of a city; or the one-eyed cyclopes standing erect amongst the other grimm who stood on all fours or crouched along the ground. Flying grimm — nevermores, griffons, some teryxes — flew above the heads of the more numerous grimm who were stuck on the ground; the fliers flapped their wings lazily as they hovered in place.

The whole horde — the whole multiple hordes, although Rainbow couldn't see where one horde waited and another one began — was waiting. They weren't attacking; they weren't even creeping forward.

But that didn't mean that they were being silent. The grimm were making as much noise as possible, their howls and roars and bellowing cries warring with the music blaring out of the speakers of the Atlesian Knights behind them. Young beowolves rose up onto their hind legs and joined the looming cyclopes in thumping their chest; goliaths trumpeted defiance; creeps shrieked, and ursai roared, and the whole thing rolled together like a bad orchestra, an awful band who couldn't keep the time so all the instruments just came together in a noise that made you want to cover your ears and turn away. The grimm sounded like that, except that their awful sound was tinged with a desire to kill. That was why, as they roared and howled, the young beowolves lunged forward with their heads, and bared their teeth.

"You know what?" Neon murmured. "I … I kind wish I had a gun right now."

Ciel hitched up her skirt to a daringly short length, revealing a pistol holster strapped around her thigh; she pulled out the pistol and wordlessly handed it to Neon as her skirt fell back down to its normal modest length.

"Thanks," Neon said softly as she took the pistol, checking that it was loaded.

"Unfortunately, I don't have any other spares," Ciel said.

"That's … quite alright, darling," Rarity whispered. "I, uh, I daresay we shall manage." She swallowed. "We will manage, won't we?"

"Yeah," Rainbow said. "Yeah, we'll be fine. We've got all the advantages."

The grimm were making it hard to say that with a clear voice. They were making so much noise that they were drowning out the Atlesian music coming from behind, Rainbow could barely make out the trumpets or the drums; all she could hear was the howling and the roaring and the trumpeting. How many grimm were there that they were making so much noise? How many grimm were about to descend upon them?

Neon's knuckles were white as she gripped the borrowed pistol, and Rainbow could see some of the guns in the hands of the military huntsmen shaking.

You need to say something. Remind them about what Colonel Harper said, all the defences the grimm have to get through before they reach us.

Rainbow opened her mouth.

"Soldiers of the Fourth Battalion!"

The words didn't come from Rainbow Dash, but from Colonel Harper as she mounted the rampart accompanied by a young officer, who barely looked older than Rainbow or Blake, and by another Knight with speakers mounted on its shoulders. As she reached the top of the ladder, Colonel Harper threw back her cloak, revealing not only the sword on her hip which she drew with a flourish, but also a pistol on her other hip. She didn't draw that yet; instead, she grabbed a microphone, attached by a cord to her accompanying Knight, and raised it to her lips.

"I've no guarantee the enemy will be considerate enough to let me finish this speech, so I'll try and make it quick," Colonel Harper went on, her words ringing out across the line and beyond. "Soldiers of the Fourth Battalion, we are facing a dangerous foe. You don't need me to tell you how numerous our enemy is; you can look in front of you and see for yourself. This is a horde, and very soon, it will hurl itself upon us in all its fury with only one objective: to sweep us away completely and descend upon the city of Vale that stands behind us.

"But we are not helpless victims. We are not lambs tied up for the slaughter. For the last several months, Atlesian forces have fortified this position against precisely such a moment as this. When the grimm attack, they will be blown apart by our mines, they will tumble into our ditches, they will get caught upon our wire, they will find the way forward blocked by our obstacles and most importantly, they will be fired upon every step of the way. Behind us, our artillery is loaded and ready, and from the skies, our cruisers and Skybolts will rain fire down from the skies upon these monsters. And you, soldiers of Atlas, you will tear these beasts apart before they and their teeth and claws get anywhere near you. Keep your eyes sharp, take careful aim, and keep your fingers on your triggers, and victory will belong to Atlas, and to us.

"Behind us, Vale stands vulnerable; behind us, Vale stands in chaos. Behind us, Vale stands helpless. Vale has no better defenders than we; Vale has no other defenders than we. Our thin white line is all that stands between victory and defeat.

"Defeat will mean not only the loss of an entire city but also the greatest stain upon the honour of Atlesian arms in their entire history. Victory will mean not only the salvation of the city but also the greatest triumph that has ever burnished up the honour of this battalion, or ever will.

"Stand fast. Take heart. Pin your honour to the colours of the Fourth Battalion and show these monsters the pride of Atlas!"

A cheer rose in answer, a cheer bursting from the throats of soldiers all across the line, a cheer that for a moment battled against the roaring of the grimm, pushing against it as if the cheers and roars themselves were the armies, clashing in the field one against the other.

Rainbow looked at Colonel Harper, almost stared at her.

I can see why she got to be a colonel so young.

Colonel Harper caught Rainbow staring and winked at her. She put the microphone back in its cradle on the Knight's sleek white body and strode leftwards down the line, her blue cloak flapping behind her.

Rainbow drew Brutal Honesty and Plain Awesome as the grimm quieted for a moment, their roaring and their howling stopping. It stayed stopped for a second, then another, before the grimm roared once again, even louder than before, every grimm in that black mass roaring as one.

And then they began to charge.

The beowolves left the ursai and the creeps behind, streaking ahead of their slower cousins, racing one another to be the first to reach the Atlesian line; the initial cohesion of the grimm was lost as a single front dissolved into several peaks and troughs as the fastest beowolves took the lead and the others in their packs, or just the closest to them, fell behind them. They were like wedges, or they would have been if they'd come to a clear end, but the peaks just dissolved into the solid black mass behind them until another ragged peak rose out of them. The whole thing was like a graph, like something Twi would come up with, with a line that rose and fell but had lots of little ups and downs in amongst the big ones.

The beowolves tore across the field, leading the way. In the air, nevermores and griffons shrieked as they darted forwards, rising up towards the Atlesian cruisers that hung in the skies above.

The roaring of the grimm was persistent as they ran, and so loud that it drowned every other sound, so loud it nearly drowned out thought.

Then the Atlesians opened fire.

It was the sound of the guns that drowned out every other sound as the spider droids started to let loose, the guns barking deeply as they tossed shells high up over the heads of the defenders. Missiles flew through the dark sky in clusters, trailing flame behind them like shooting stars, while yet more missiles fell downwards like thunderbolts from the cruisers above.

Shells and missiles struck together in a wall of fire that covered the battlefield, consuming the first wave of the grimm. Another cheer rose from the ranks of the Atlesian soldiers, before more grimm burst through the flames — the flames caught them in some instances, but the grimm didn't seem to care — leaping or lumbering through the dying explosions as they pressed forwards.

The flying grimm rose, and the Atlesian fighters dived to meet them, even as red laser bolts from the cruisers lanced down to eviscerate teryxes or turn nevermores to ashes. The bombers dived too, the Skybolts flying lower than the Skydarts to strafe the mass of grimm on the ground with their Tempest cannons, to fire missiles at the goliaths as they strode forwards.

The guns and the missiles of the spider droids kept firing, shells bursting and missiles exploding amongst the onward-rushing black mass. Explosions bloomed amongst the grimm, blowing whole clusters of them to pieces, opening up holes in the horde — holes that were filled moments later as the grimm kept coming. The Paladins and the spiders on the front line were firing too now; the spider droids' lasers leapt out to strafe across the grimm line, burning away dozens, scores of them at once, while the Paladins' metallic fists folded back to reveal cannons which fired with a thrumming sound, arms recoiling again and again.

In the skies, fighters duelled with the grimm in a chaotic battle, laser beams criss-crossing through the night sky, grimm only visible as they blocked out the stars or flitted across the face of the broken moon. Down on the ground, the mortars had started to fire as well; the smaller mortars fired starshells which burst in the air, illuminating the onrushing horde, while the larger mortars added their fire to the guns and the missiles, to the lasers and the cannons, to all the fire that was already pounding relentlessly upon the grimm, shredding them, devouring, consuming them in Atlesian fire.

Rainbow grinned at the sight, the fires of the explosions reflected in her magenta eyes. She grinned as she saw the grimm being taught, as other grimm had learned before they died, that teeth and claws and some raw bestial savagery were no match for the sheer technological might that Atlas could bring to bear against them. They were even sparing some fire for their flank, where the grimm were moving on the Valish line to the Atlesian right; a cruiser was directing its fire that way, and spider droids too, and Skybolts strafing in that direction.

"Look at this, Blake!" Rainbow cried as the fires from the sky and the ground hammered the grimm over and over again. "Look at it! Isn't it beautiful!"

The smile on Blake's face was softer, more contemplative, but still a smile. "It's power," she murmured. "It's impressive, but … there are still a lot of them out there."

She was right, unfortunately. The grimm were being battered, they were being burned, they were being consumed in fire, but they kept on coming. They kept on coming in that immense mass, and they were still so thick that Rainbow couldn't spot the apex alpha leading the horde. She could see some of the older beowolves and ursai, the more mature grimm who formed the second wave of any grimm horde, who let the youngsters die to tease out the strength of the enemy defences — they hadn't even done that completely — but there were still a few youngsters left, blessed with luck as they dodged the shells, the missiles, the mortars, who seemed untouchable as they bounded forwards.

They reached the minefield in front of the ditch; Rainbow could have sworn the first to reach it had a look of shock on his face like a funny animal picture in the split second before the mine blew it to ashes and dust.

Other grimm began to reach the minefield in front of the first ditch, and as the mines began to explode beneath them, the ground erupting in explosions, the grimm for the first time seemed to hesitate. They had pushed on through the punishing fire of the shells and the missiles, but now, they seemed unsure of what to do. Some tried to leap clean over the minefield and the ditch beyond; some missed and plunged into the ditch itself, scrabbling wildly with their paws; others made the jump only to get blown up by the mines that lay between the two ditches. The grimm stopped, milling around at the edge of the minefield; some pushed into the mines where they, too, were blown up by the sheer mass of grimm pressing down on them from behind. Others managed to stay away, only to be caught in the murderous fire from the artillery, the missiles, the mechs that continued to rain down on them.

"What are they waiting for?" Blake asked as they watched the grimm halt, holding under the murderous barrage to which they were subjected to.

"I don't know," Rainbow murmured.

A human army, she was sure, would have retreated at this point. A human army probably would have broken already under this amount of fire, but the grimm were different; grimm didn't break. The grimm also didn't seem to know how to go forward either, which was both surprising — why not just step on the mines? Eat the losses like they were eating the losses from the Atlesian fire support — but also, if they really didn't know how to go forward, then why not go back? Why not retreat, instead of holding firm like this like sitting ducks?

But the grimm did hold. They held firm as the Atlesians pummelled them, roaring and howling in defiance even as their roars were cut off by explosions that consumed them.

And then the mines started to explode. No grimm was stepping on them, none of them were even setting foot in the minefield, but the mines were exploding, throwing up clods of earth that momentarily blocked the grimm from view, explosion after explosion rippling across the field as the mines blew up without harming any of the grimm who waited beyond them.

"Creeps!" Blake snapped. "They're using creeps to go underground and detonate the mines!"

"That—" Rainbow started, then stopped. That made an unfortunate, a really unfortunate, amount of sense. "Oh, the sneaky little…"

"Clever creatures," Ciel murmured. "We underestimate them at our peril."

"What about the other mines?" Rarity asked. "The ones on the other side of the ditch? Can the creeps get at them, too?"

"I don't see why they can't just dig underneath the ditch and then come up," Starlight said. "Unless the bedrock stops them."

Maud shook her head. "There isn't enough stone here. The bedrock is too far down. We won't have dug that deep."

Sure enough, as Maud was finished speaking, the mines in the second layer, between the two ditches, also began to explode, first one or two, and then rippling explosions like waves spreading out across the battlefield.

The roaring of the grimm started to sound like laughter, mocking laughter.

"Yeah, laugh it up, assholes; we're still kicking your asses!" Neon bellowed at them.

The grimm started to move forward again as though they'd heard her. Some of them leapt over the ditch to land cleanly on the other side. Others missed their jumps, or else … some of them were actually throwing themselves headlong into the ditch as though they were stupid or something.

Since the grimm weren't stupid, it made Rainbow wonder what they were up to.

"Fourth Battalion!" Colonel Harper's voice echoed out across the line. "Battalion will commence aimed fire at will on my command. Take aim!"

Rifles were tucked more firmly into shoulders, fingers tightened on triggers.

"Fire!"

The Atlesian line exploded in flame as rifles, machine guns, rockets, grenades, all erupted at once. Soldiers and the ghost-like Knights that fought beside them opened fire on the grimm as they struggled to cross the ditches. Rockets traced flaming trails through the night, tracer rounds were hard to distinguish from lasers, Distant Thunder roared very close to Rainbow's ears as Ciel fired, chambered a new round, fired again. Blake was firing too, squeezing off individual shots from Gambol Shroud with a practised patience, every shot carefully aimed. Rainbow opened fire also; it was about the limits of her machine pistols, but if she aimed carefully and controlled her breathing, she could hit something. Like the soldiers around her, she fired in short controlled bursts, a few rounds at a time. With most of the immature grimm dead — it definitely seemed to be the more mature grimm that they were dealing with now — those few rounds wouldn't kill an older beowolf, they wouldn't blow one away the way that Ciel could kill one with a single well-placed shot, but combined with all the other fire being put out from the line, together, it was enough to bring one down.

And the grimm were falling, either in the space between the ditches or on the near side of the second ditch, falling down dead as they took their last few steps towards the rampart, dying under a thousand rounds instead of dying to a single shell, falling to turn to ash as more grimm rushed forward to take their place.

"That's it," declared Colonel Harper as she strode up and down the line, her personal amplifier walking behind her. "That's the style, kids, pour it on! You're the best shots in the whole Atlesian military; now let those monsters know it!"

I bet all the colonels say that, Rainbow thought.

The grimm were falling under the punishing Atlesian fire, but they were also falling down the ditch — down both ditches, as even some of those that jumped easily over the first pit threw themselves into the second like it didn't even matter to them whether they died from the fall or not, or like they were so desperate not to get shot or blown up that they would do anything to get away from it. It was bizarre to watch, as Rainbow fired in short, sharp bursts, these grimm that were being shot at from every which way, strafed from the air, just jumping down into the ditches like … not like lemmings, because Fluttershy had explained that lemmings weren't actually like that at all, but like … pop culture lemmings, if that made sense? Just leaping down into the ditches, more and more grimm, with their arms and legs flailing. Mostly, they were beowolves, even some alpha beowolves, but there were some ursai doing it too, jumping down into the ditch.

Jumping into the ditch and filling it up.

It took a while for Rainbow — for anyone, she guessed — to realise that was what the grimm were doing. At first, the grimm just disappeared into the ditch, which had been dug so deep that you couldn't stand on the rampart and see the bottom; so the grimm jumped in, and nobody could see them anymore. Nobody could see them, nobody could shoot at them, the artillery and the missiles were aiming past the ditch at the grimm still coming up beyond, and so, the grimm who survived that were free to keep jumping in and jumping in until the Atlesians could start to see them, the grimm all packed together, filling up the ditches with their black bodies, filling them up so that the bigger grimm, the goliaths and the cyclopes, the beringels, the big ursai major, they could all just walk across the ditches, stepping on their fellow grimm along the way, crossing what would have been impossible for grimm their size to jump.

Crossing the obstacles meant to keep them at bay.

The first goliaths crossed the inner ditch, trumpeting their accomplishment as the earth trembled beneath their tread. More goliaths behind them died from artillery fire, or were torn apart by missiles, but some goliaths made it, and cyclopes too, while beowolves and ursai gathered around their feet.

Ciel fired. Distant Thunder roared as a goliath, its bony elephantine skull cracked, turned away with a snort of pain. Spider droids concentrated their lasers on the immense targets, burning through bone and turning the elephant-like grimm to ashes. The Paladins, the soldiers with the rocket launchers, they were all concentrating their fire on the large grimm who now stood on the threshold of the Atlesian defences; the Atlesian cruisers were turning their fire that way too, where they were not too oppressed by nevermores or griffons flocking around them; they turned their main guns down on the goliaths and the cyclopes.

Indeed, it seemed as though more and more soldiers were turning their guns in that direction.

"If all you've got is a rifle, don't aim for the big ones!" Colonel Harper shouted. "Aim for the beowolves and ursai; leave the big bastards to the big guns."

Rainbow was doing that, had been doing that, taking aim at the smaller grimm that scuttled around the feet of their much larger cousins. But even as she kept up her fire, she couldn't help but keep an eye on the big grimm as they lumbered forwards. Some died, by laser fire or sustained rockets and missiles, or because the artillery was firing so short that Rainbow kept wanting to duck as the shells arced high overhead. But others kept on coming, and if they kept on coming much closer, then they would surely reach the wall or the rampart.

And once they did, they would break through.

The grimm kept coming.

Rainbow's thoughts were interrupted by a curse from Starlight.

"The Valish!" Starlight shouted. "The Valish have broken!"

 

[ScipioSmith]

Breaking Point

​

As the Skyray carried them along, Ruby could feel Yang's eyes on her.

It was only Ruby and Team YRBN — Team YRN, she supposed, or Y_RN, or however you were supposed to spell it when a team was down to three people — were the only ones in the airship. Well, there was the pilot and the co-pilot up at the front, but other than that, it was just the four of them. They weren't having to share the airship with any other team.

At first, Ruby had thought that that was lucky, but now, she was wondering if maybe the presence of another team — not SAPR, but another team that Ruby and YRN didn't know well or at all — might not have proved a welcome distraction.

A distraction for Yang to stop her staring at Ruby, or a distraction for Ruby so that she didn't notice Yang staring.

Ruby was facing away from her sister, looking out of the open doors of the Atlesian airship as it carried them towards the Mistralian command post. The Atlesian pilots weren't willing to take them all the way to the Valish line, so Team YRRN — as Nora had suggested it be called — would have to walk the rest of the way. It shouldn't be too far, though, so they ought to make it before the battle began.

Or at least, even if they didn't make it before the battle began, they should be reasonably sure of making it before it ended.

Ruby looked out. She couldn't see the Mistralians yet, still less the Valish, but it was dark, so they might have been closer to their destination than they seemed; she certainly hoped so, although she doubted that even arriving at their destination and starting to walk would grant her complete freedom from Yang's eyes on her.

She might have to actually say something, as much as she didn't really want to.

There isn't time to talk about everything, and even if there was, I don't know if I'd want to talk about it all in front of Ren and Nora.

I'm not sure that I'd want to talk about it all just to Yang.

Why can't she just drop it?

Ruby tried to focus on what she could see outside the airship, to take her mind of what — on who — was seeing her within. This part of the land just beyond Vale wasn't completely deserted; a lot of it was farmland without the actual farms, sure, but this particular part they were flying over had a couple of small old villages that hadn't been completely swallowed up by the city — yet. Vale was always growing, and so more and more of what had once been little places like these villages and hamlets were being swallowed up by the steady advance of the city limits. Of course, that was part of the reason why the Green Line had been proposed, as a protection not just for the farmland — who needed to protect farmland from grimm, and it wasn't as though Vale had a huge bandit problem — but for the people who lived in growing numbers out beyond the Red Line and the wall. The outer defences had been supposed to protect the spreading suburbs, but also all the little hamlets that Ruby could see directly beneath them, the lights on so that they shone like little beacons in the dark, or the big houses of the people who owned the villages which also sat here and there in this part of the country. The Green Line had been meant to be their shield, not just an outer tripwire for Vale, but a wall for the people who lived outside of Vale's actual wall. Unfortunately, there weren't yet enough people like that, and, well, if you didn't have the numbers, then you didn't matter in a democracy, and so, these people had lost out, just like the people in the countryside and the small settlements had lost out for years to the big cities.

Honestly, if Ruby hadn't known about the Equestrian monster and the mind control and stuff, then Ruby might well have nodded at General Blackthorn taking over the kingdom. Might, not necessarily would, but might. Not because she wanted a tyranny or thought that everyone deserved to lose their freedom overnight, but because there had to be a better way of organising a kingdom, a way that looked out for everyone, not just the selfish majority who thought only of themselves.

A better way than these short-sighted Councillors who had continuously elevated other concerns above the good of the Valish.

Councillor Novo, and Councillor Emerald too, had been more concerned with how things seemed than how they were, more concerned with making Vale look safe, and making its people feel safe, than with actually keeping Vale safe from danger. That was why they were in this position, with grimm gathering in huge numbers outside the walls, because Vale's Councillors had been unwilling to act to protect the people in case it made them temporarily unpopular.

Vale needed a leader who could tell its people some hard truths, someone who would say what needed to be said instead of what would be well received, who would do what was best instead of what was popular. A shepherd of the people, to borrow a phrase from Pyrrha's Mistralian epics — only without the shearing or the eating lamb.

A shepherd who only cared for the flock, but who didn't exploit it or want anything from it in return for their protection. A shepherd … who wouldn't be much of a shepherd at all, would they?

The more Ruby thought about it, the more that phrase seemed to say more about the Mistralians than they realised — or wanted to admit.

Not a shepherd, then. But not a sausage seller either, appealing to the crowd. Protecting people, the highest good and calling, meant sometimes…

Meant sometimes treating the people the way that Sunset and Pyrrha had treated her so infuriatingly.

That's different! I'm not one of the people, I'm one of their protectors! I'm talking about the people who are weak and in need of strong defence.

As they need protection, as they need and deserve to have their lives preserved, so do they also require guidance; otherwise, they'll just make choices that make them less safe, less secure; they'll fall prey to liars with silver tongues who take advantage of their trust.

Even huntsmen and huntresses aren't immune to that.

Ruby closed her eyes.

I understand that sometimes protecting people, helping them, saving them, means giving them what they need instead of what they want. I understand that it might mean setting limits, the way that a good dad sets limits for his kids when they're growing up.

I just wanted to be one of the protectors, instead of the protected.

I am one of the protectors, and I wanted to be treated that way.

Ruby could feel Yang looking at her, her eyes burning into the back of Ruby's neck.

"You don't need to keep staring at me, Yang," Ruby said.

"I'm not staring," Yang replied.

"Yes," Ruby said. "Yes, you are."

Yang didn't answer for a second. "I … well, I just … come on, Ruby, this is a little … what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on," Ruby said.

"Then … why are you here?" Yang asked gently.

"I think we're almost there," Ren said, sparing Ruby from replying.

Ruby thought he was right; raising her eyes from the ground to the sky, she could see one of the two immense Mistralian battleships — the one that they hadn't handed over to the Valish — lit up by the moonlight falling on its bulk, its armour, its huge number of guns. Ruby didn't know how good of a warship it actually was — she had a feeling that Rainbow Dash would tell her it was awful — but it was an impressive sight to look at. Someone had actually put that whole thing together, first dreamed it up and then created it, pulled everyone together to make it just how they wanted; someone had conceived this and seen it made a reality.

As for the effectiveness of it all, Ruby was sure it had been a good idea at the time, and even if it hadn't been, that was no reason not to admire the effort they'd put into it.

There was some reason to wish that the ship was further forward — it seemed to be hovering over the Mistralian camp when, if everything went well, then the Mistralians would be sitting this whole battle out — but the ship wasn't going to fly up and help the Valish on the line because … because it wasn't a Valish ship, and the Valish had wasted their ship picking a fight with the Atlesians. Which wasn't their fault, but still…

Anyway, the point was that, unlike the Atlesians, they couldn't expect air cover. They'd just have to make do with their own weapons, their own courage; they'd have to be like huntsmen and huntresses, without any of the fancy toys that the Atlesians used to make their lives easier.

Blake was probably going to get very lazy once she got to Atlas.

The airships proved Ren right by starting their descent, all the Skyrays turning towards the ground, carrying within them the Beacon and Haven students — and Teams UMBR and Team GEAR of Shade, the only teams from Shade, which Ruby thought people should find more annoying than they seemed to; why was everyone just accepting this? Why was everyone shrugging their shoulders at it? Why was no one angry, yelling, cursing them out, screaming at them to act like huntsmen? Maybe it wouldn't have actually helped at all, but it would have made Ruby feel a little less alone in her thoughts. As far as she could make out from Yang and Nora, it wasn't even that the Shade students were hiding because they were afraid; they just didn't want to fight. Somehow, that felt even worse. It was one thing to be scared, it was another thing to just not be bothered.

The airships would be leaving them here, returning to the Atlesian lines for Atlesian purposes.

But they'd be fine without them; they could make do. That was what huntsmen did; they made do the best they could.

The Mistralian camp, which came into focus more as the airships dropped through the night sky, was a sprawling, ramshackle thing, a forest of tents spread out across the Valish fields. Pennants stuck in the ground acted as rough rallying spots for units, while a Mistralian banner had been placed in front of a particularly large tent which Ruby guessed either belonged to their leader — Polemarch Yeoh, Pyrrha had said her name was — or a command post for all the senior officers to meet. Or both, maybe.

That tent was roughly in the middle of the camp, but beyond that, there didn't seem to be a whole lot of order or reason to it. It looked more like everyone had just pitched their tent wherever, like a huge camping trip or something.

The airships flew underneath the looming bulk of the battleship to descend on the edge of the camp, where bodies of men and women had already gathered. They weren't in ranks, but they were in clumps, sitting or standing in distinct groups, waiting for … waiting for the grimm to break through the Valish line maybe, or for them to be called upon, waiting for someone to tell them what to do. Waiting for something to happen. Ruby saw some of them turn their faces up towards the airships as they came down.

The Skyrays didn't land, but they hovered close enough to the ground that the huntsmen and huntresses within could dismount easily, leaping down onto the ground below; it was hard and dry from the lack of rain recently.

As the huntsmen leapt from the airships, which barely seemed to wait for them to get out before they rose up into the air again — they really were very keen to get rid of their passengers and return to their own lines — a woman strode out from the clumps of Mistralians. She looked … she didn't look like Raven at all, but she had that same air about her, like she could be fifty or sixty, but she still looked the same as she did when she was sixteen; the Mistralian woman looked like that, ageless.

Maybe Yang would turn out the same way, just like her mom.

The Mistralian woman, dark-haired and wearing a blue uniform, with a sword at her hip, strode forwards … towards Pyrrha, obviously.

"Welcome!" she declared. "Welcome to all the heroes of Mistral! How honoured we are to have this opportunity to fight by your sides."

Pyrrha gave some soft reply, so soft that Ruby couldn't work out exactly what it was she'd said.

The Mistralian woman — was this Polemarch Yeoh? Ruby hadn't seen any pictures of her — hadn't been speaking quietly before, but now, she raised her voice even louder. "Great ones in Mistral now asleep, or huddled gawping round a TV set, will think themselves accursed they were not here to fight with us this night—"

Ruby turned away. She wasn't interested, and there were more important things to do. "Come on," she said to the others. "We should get moving."

"Yeah, we should," Yang said, sounding like she was almost but not quite sighing about the fact.

There was no guide waiting for them, no Valish officer or soldier come to lead them up to the front line, but Ruby and the others could roughly work out where the line was; all they had to do was head due eastwards after all, and if they really needed to, they could look at a map on their scrolls. So, guide or not, they set off, walking across the field they had just landed in in the direction of the Valish position.

Looking around, Ruby saw some other Beacon teams, like CFVY, doing the same, heading off towards the Valish line and the battle along with it. They didn't come any closer to Team YRRN, nor did YRRN seek to get any closer to them, or any other team for that matter. They weren't going anywhere; they just all happened to be going to around about the same place.

"Are you…?" Yang began, then let her words trail off. She was quiet for a second or two as the four of them trudged further away from the Mistralian camp. Ren drifted a little away from the others, casting significant glances towards Nora as he did so; Nora didn't look inclined to go anywhere.

Yang spoke again, "Ruby … what's going on?"

Ruby huffed. "I don't have time to expl—"

"Talk fast and summarise," Yang said. "Because I can't just ignore—"

"Ruby's right," Ren said. "While I understand your concern, Yang, this is hardly the time. We need to keep moving."

Yang looked over Ruby's head — at Ren, Ruby guessed, and was able to confirm it by looking around herself.

When she looked back at Yang, she saw that her eyes had turned slightly red.

Nevertheless, when Ruby looked at Ren again, she saw him standing his ground, unfazed by her display of anger.

Because he knows he's right. Like I know, even though no one else agrees.

Yang frowned but said, "Okay. You're right." She turned away and strode in the direction of the Valish line, leaving everyone else running to catch up with her. "But we have to talk about this at some point because…" She paused for a moment. "I like the fact that we get the chance to fight together — really, I do; I wasn't lying about that — it's just … you can't expect me to just see you acting like you have been, forgetting your weapon, everything else, and then not expect me to worry a little bit."

"There's nothing to worry about," Ruby insisted, albeit in a quiet, almost muttering kind of way..

"Forgive me for being sceptical about that," Yang replied, muttering a bit herself.

"Don't be too hard on her, Yang; come on," Nora said, giving Ruby a pat on the back so firm that Ruby stumbled forwards and nearly fell over flat on her face on the ground. "Sometimes, things just don't work out, even if you want them to. And sometimes, people don't want them to work out." She paused. "I'm talking about them, by the way, not you, Ruby. Sometimes … sometimes, people are just jerks."

"Yeah, I know," Yang replied. "But they didn't—"

"And sometimes, people have different faces," Nora went on. "Sometimes, the most respectable and respected, the most admired, the most popular guy, the 'pillar of the community' will turn out to be the most despicable, the most self-centred, the most … sometimes … sometimes, it takes a while to see the real … them, I guess. Sometimes, people put on a show for the people they want to like them and show who they really are to people that don't matter. Sometimes, everyone puts on a show for one another except for the one person they've marked out as deserving everything that happens to them. I guess that might not all make a ton of sense, but what I'm trying to say is that, just because people seem nice doesn't mean they always are, and it can sometimes take a while to work out who they really are underneath."

"It's not that," Ruby said. She paused for a second. "I mean, I guess it kind of is like that, but not as bad. Not as … hard. They're not … they're not bad people," and although I didn't like the way they treated me, they didn't mean anything bad by it. They just saw me as one of those who needed to be protected, not one of the protectors. "They're not bad people," she repeated. "They're just not for me, and I'm … not for them. We're too different. I don't blame them, but I realise now that it isn't gonna work. It's nobody's fault, but … that's just how it is."

"That sounds rather certain," Ren murmured.

"It is," Ruby replied. "Trust me, I've given it long enough. I'm sure. This is just the way it is. It's not working out, and it isn't going to."

"So … what are you saying?" Yang asked quietly, almost whispering the question. "If it isn't working out with Team Sapphire, then … what?"

"You could come and join us full time?" Nora suggested. "I mean there's a spot open."

"Yeah," Ruby said, a little touch of a laugh entering her voice. That … that would be something, wouldn't it? Stay at Beacon after all, just change teams.

She could do it. She could do it very easily; it wasn't even as if she'd told anyone that she was leaving school. The only people that she'd told about it were Leaf and Juturna, Amber and Dove, and two of them weren't in any position to be asked about it, and the other two … still weren't in any position to be asked about it, albeit for more benign reasons. The point was that, if Ruby decided, there and then, to change her mind, to stay at Beacon, to join Team YRRN, let Penny join a team with Sunset, Jaune, and Pyrrha, then … who would know? Who was to stop her?

And if I do that, then Yang might get to join Professor Ozpin's group as well.

And Ren and Nora. Although I'm not sure if they'd want that.

But it would make Professor Goodwitch very happy, anyway.

Would it make me happy?

Ruby glanced at Yang. It was Yang, it was her sister, it was the person who had always been there for her…

Been there for her and protected her. Which was kind of the problem, wasn't it? Ruby had had quite enough protection.

But it was still Yang. And Ruby had gotten over the feeling of taint that had started to pervade the whole of Beacon after finding out what Sunset had done; she no longer felt so itchy, so dirty, so eager to begone as she had done. Sleep had done wonders that way, or at least, sleep had helped her to … come to a new understanding. She could stay at Beacon, if she wanted to; even if Sunset did likewise, Ruby wouldn't be physically revolted by her presence, wouldn't be incapable of sharing a room with her. Sunset would not be torture to her, instead … she would be like a fly, a buzzing fly, a little irritating to have around, but not really important. Ruby could put up with Sunset's presence, just so long as she didn't have to put up with being on the same team as her — still less led by her. She could manage, if she wanted to.

But did she want to? That was the question, wasn't it?

Did she want to stay here?

Did she want to stay at Beacon?

Why? Stay at Beacon for what? What would she get out of it, other than the pleasure of Yang's company or the chance to get to know Ren and Nora a little better?

Three more years with a different team, with Yang.

With my big sister. Hmm.

Three more years with a team, instead of being on my own.

I can handle myself … probably.

Against a lot of things, definitely.

I can do this. The only question is whether I really want to.

Or whether I want to spend more time with Yang and her friends.

And whether I want to uphold the principle of the system or make it work for me.

Why shouldn't I do what I want? Everyone else does.

Leaf and Juturna had both told her to go for it, in their own ways; so, too, in his own way, had Turnus. Nobody had suggested that she was wrong, nobody had given her a good reason to stay, and though Ruby herself could think of a couple, they were kind of … abstract, was that the word? They weren't about to set her heart on fire.

Leaf had told her, and Ruby thought that she was probably right about this, that there were times when you needed to make a big leap to change your life.

Changing teams just wasn't it.

It might have been fun, it might have been better if things had been that way, it might have been … but it wasn't. And it wasn't to be.

She wanted to protect people. She had always wanted to protect people. Saving people, hunting things, the family business, that had always been her heart's desire. Why should she put that on hold just to sit in a classroom, when she didn't have to?

"Maybe," Ruby lied, because she didn't want to have that conversation right now. "I'll think about it."

She would tell Yang the truth … later. Maybe when she told Dad. Best to get it done all at once than have to keep talking about it to different people.

And all of that after she'd spoken to Iona, because if Iona said no, if she wasn't willing to help Ruby cheat the system, if she wanted a graduated and licensed huntress on her side — and that was absolutely her right; Ruby wouldn't blame her at all if she said 'how can I trust someone who can't even commit to four years at school to commit to me?' — then Ruby wouldn't have much choice but to take up that offer on Team YRRN, would she?

It might not be the best thing for her — it wouldn't be — but at least it would be something. It would be better than burning her bridges now, leaping off, and then finding out that there was nothing waiting to catch her underneath.

Since Amber and Dove were … hardly going to be asked about this if anyone saw them again, then she might as well keep this all to herself until the arrangements had been made. Or at least until she found out for sure that the arrangements were possible.

All of this was in the future anyway; it didn't matter for tonight. Tonight, even if it was for just one night only, she was a part of Team YRRN, so tonight, that was all that mattered.

They walked on, through the dark and the open fields, past the odd standing tree and the occasional cottage, past an abandoned old manor house in the distance with an overgrown garden and vines climbing up the walls. They walked on, heading east, knowing that they would have to hit the Green Line soon, at some point, since they could hardly miss it except by turning north to Beacon. They walked past standing stones — or stones that had stood once but had now toppled down onto the ground — past rings of mushrooms glowing with an eerie pale blue light, past silent graveyards where the moss climbed over the half-forgotten monuments.

They walked through the night where the foxes shrieked, where the owls called out into the dark, where the grass trembled and the hedgerows shook with the approach of unseen creatures. The night that belonged to nature and where the huntsmen and huntresses who trudged towards and in search of the Valish line were the intruders.

They walked and walked, and gradually, eventually, they came upon the Valish line.

They came to it in stages, the signs of the Valish presence multiplying as they got closer and closer. First, they came to the artillery, to a quartet of guns with slender barrels, with two metal legs spread out on either side of the wheels. The barrels of the guns were pointed up and eastward, to fire over the heads of the soldiers who were presumably further forwards. A few men and women, no more than four, stood by or sat at each gun, and they all seemed to be staring at Team YRRN.

In the darkness, their eyes seemed to gleam with suspicion.

We are sure the Equestrian monster is dead, right?

"They're not gonna try and kill us, are they?" Nora whispered.

Yang laughed, only a little nervously. "Hey, guys. Is this the way to the front line?"

None of the soldiers in Valish green said anything, but one of them pointed wordlessly in the direction in which Team YRRN had been going already.

"Right," Yang said. "Thanks."

She looked at the others and winced as she led them on, past the guns — Ruby thought that she could see a few more guns, still clumped in fours or maybe sixes — further away, half hidden in the darkness of the night — and further on towards the line itself.

"They were a cheerful bunch," Nora muttered.

"They're probably out of sorts," Ren replied. "It's been a … long night for them."

"It's been a long night for us too," Nora said. "We've been fighting at the arena and down at the school docking pads; what have they been doing all night?"

"Getting orders to start fighting the Atlesians?" Yang suggested.

"It's a good thing they didn't obey those orders," Ren murmured. "But it would be understandable if they've been left confused, on edge, suspicious."

"What have they got to be suspicious of us for?" Nora asked. "Haven't they seen us on TV?"

"All I'm saying is," said Ren, "maybe cut them a little slack."

In front of the guns, they found the tanks, that seemed actually more numerous than the artillery, drawn up in a line behind the line, guns pointed out over the heads of the infantry towards the hordes of grimm that waited beyond. The tanks were pretty old; the company that had designed and built them — Valish Leland — didn't exist anymore; it had … Ruby couldn't actually remember what had happened to it, but they'd made Dad's first car, not the one he had now, one he got when he first graduated, and he didn't have a single good word to say about it in any of his stories, so maybe people just stopped buying their product because they sucked.

Anyway, the tanks were older than Dad's first car, and older than Dad himself in design, if not in manufacture. It was a little weird to think of things that were older than her father being used in battle, but then, people her father's age or older were actually fighting in battle, so why not the equipment too? And, like the old Mistralian battleship that they'd landed beneath, the fact that they were old and maybe not the best at what they were meant to do didn't detract in Ruby's eyes from the engineering accomplishment of them. Just getting things that were that big and that heavy, covered with so much solid metal plate, to move itself, to move its turret, that was impressive, leaving everything else aside.

Most of the tanks, from what Ruby could see, were 'Cataphracts,' with a short-barrelled howitzer emerging out of the squat turrets, but even in the moonlight, Ruby could also see a few 'Archer' variants with a longer, higher velocity gun for dealing with large or heavily armoured targets. Most of the tanks, of whichever type, were facing outwards, with their fronts to the grimm, but a few had turned sideways, with their turrets rotated so as to still point outwards.

Ruby could not imagine why they had done that unless it was to look cool.

"That," Nora said, as she, too, took in the tanks with their turrets and their hull-mounted weapons and their side sponsons and the machine gun near the hatch on top of the turret, "is a lot of guns."

Ruby nodded. "The idea was to cover as many different angles as possible so that the grimm couldn't get into its blindspots. Because it wouldn't have any," she added, in case that wasn't clear.

"What about the back?" asked Ren.

Ruby hesitated. "The back … yeah, it still has one blind spot. The back is where the engine is."

"So, are they any good or what?" Nora asked.

"Well," Ruby said, "the only time they've ever really been used was around Mountain Glenn, and that…" She didn't go on. She didn't need to go on. Everyone knew what had happened around Mountain Glenn. As the city grew, the Council had assigned soldiers to join the huntsmen who had protected the initial fledgling colony, and tanks like these had been part of the aggressive defence that had sought to keep the grimm away by hitting them hard before they could draw near to the city. It hadn't worked, and the Valish units assigned to undertake it had been wiped out, never to be re-established.

And the city had fallen anyway, so it hadn't even been for anything.

Tanks had not saved Mountain Glenn … the next uncomfortable thought was that no one should expect them to save Vale either.

But Vale isn't Mountain Glenn; we've got the Atlesians helping us, and the Mistralians. And we're here too. Tanks might not save Vale, but we will.

"That's reassuring," Nora muttered.

"They might have blind spots at the back, and the armour might not be able to withstand all grimm claws," Ruby admitted, "but the guns still work fine, and so as long as they stay behind the line, then it should all be okay."

It wasn't just tanks parked behind the line; there were armoured cars and some armoured transports as well, long-bodied vehicles with small turrets and small guns, which — along with some unarmed and unarmoured trucks — must have belonged to the infantry. The crew … Ruby and the others couldn't see the crew of any of these vehicles; no one was sticking their heads up out of the turrets; nobody was standing outside the tank or the transport; everyone was buttoned up inside.

Or else there was no one inside, and the tanks were just empty, sitting there like so many sculptures or statues or whatever. But that couldn't be right. Where would everyone have gone? They wouldn't just walk off and abandon their vehicles, and if they had, then Team YRRN and the other students would have met them coming the other way. No, they were in; they were just being very quiet.

At least, Ruby hoped they were. She would have rapped on the armour — or asked Yang or Nora to do it; they'd make more noise than her — to see if there was a response, but if there were people inside, then she didn't want to disturb them; they were probably concentrating.

So they kept on walking, past the tanks, at which point, it was only a short distance to the infantry and the front line itself, their destination reached at last.

The infantry were dressed in green jackets and black trousers, with black helmets and green cockades. They weren't wearing any body armour. It was hard to tell who was supposed to be in charge, as the troops were slightly unevenly spread out across the line. In some places, they stood upon incomplete sections of wall, looking out over the parapet, while in other places, the gaps between the wall, they had strung barbed wire between the walls and made a barricade out of sandbags, on which soldiers rested their rifles. There were some old-looking machine guns, so old that some of them were on wheels or big clunky tripods, others more modern-looking, lighter and leaner. The line was uneven, and not everyone was standing or kneeling at the sandbags; some people were standing just behind the line, casting anxious glances outwards towards the grimm or envious glances back towards Vale.

One of them, a sergeant with three stripes on his arms, was the first to notice them. He was a man about Dad's age, maybe a couple of years younger, with short, curly red-brown hair and a sharp nose. He had a bulky, square Valish rifle slung over his shoulder, and his hands thrust under his armpits, although Ruby didn't think it was that cold.

He said, "Alright, what are you—?" He paused. "I know you, blondie, you're the one who was on the telly today, wasn't you?"

Yang chuckled. "Yeah, that's me. Yang Xiao Long, of Team Iron."

"Name's Robbins. Sergeant Robbins, Patch Light Infantry. You was robbed, let me tell you. Daylight robbery. You 'ad that in the bag."

"Eh," Yang shrugged. "You win some, you lose some."

"It was a disappointment to my little 'uns," Sergeant Robbins went on. "I've been stuck 'ere instead of 'ome with them, but they called me up to tell me so. They thought you were smashing."

"I'm happy to hear that and sorry to have disappointed them," Yang said. "But, uh, sergeant—"

"So what's a bigshot like you doing out 'ere, anyway?" Sergeant Robbins went on, without waiting for Yang to finish.

"We're here to fight the grimm," Ruby said.

"Didn't anyone tell you we were coming?" asked Nora.

"Told?" Sergeant Robbins cried. "We've been told a lot of things tonight. First, General Blackthorn gets on the 'orn to all units, telling us to fight the Atlesians; then Councillor Emerald gets on the blower and says that we're not to fight the Atlesians, and by the way, General Blackthorn's been committed on account of being as mad as a box of hoppin' frogs, thank you very much. And everyone's to go back to barracks. Except us, probably, we're to stay 'ere. Then we hear from Colonel Sky Beak if you please of the La-Di-Da Dragoons, and he says that we're definitely to stay 'ere and prepare to receive attack, and Vale's counting on us, but no word of reinforcements, no, nor any sign of relief. It's enough to make your 'ead spin, let alone wonder if you're coming or going. I don't know who we're supposed to be listening to."

"Anyone but General Blackthorn," Yang said.

"I get that it must be confusing," Ruby added. "It would probably confuse me too, but that doesn't matter now. What matters is that…" She paused, wondering if she ought to keep going. It was clear to her just from what the sergeant had said, from the silence of the tanks, from the sullen looks in the eyes of the Valish soldiers that verged upon hostility, that morale around here wasn't great. Understandable, but not a good thing, considering. These people, these soldiers, could do with something to inspire them.

But could she do that? It had been shown that she … she didn't really get other people. Things that seemed right to her, obviously right, didn't seem that way to everyone else. It might be the same here; her words might fall on deaf ears, or do more harm than good.

But all the same, despite the risk, she had to try. She couldn't just say nothing.

She would just have to keep it as simple as possible.

"I know you must be scared," she said. She wasn't scared, but she guessed that everyone else was. "I know that it's pretty scary out there. But isn't Vale your home? The sergeant's children live there; what about the rest of you, don't you families? If we don't stop the grimm here, then who's going to protect them? You have to fight, we all have to fight, because Vale really is counting on you, just like Colonel Sky Beak said. And so is everyone who lives in it. So is everyone you care about, everyone you know and love," she added, because most people didn't care about people they didn't know, did they? "They're all depending on you to protect them from the grimm, so just think about them and let the thought of them give you courage. Fight for everyone you love, and you'll see them again, safe and sound!"

There wasn't much of a response. Ruby didn't need to get a cheer or anything, but this dead silence wasn't encouraging.

Sergeant Robbins didn't reply for a couple of seconds, before he said, "Well, if you're here to help, then welcome to our 'umble battle line. Make room for the 'eroes, fellas; they've come to take the loads off our backs."

"We're here to help," Ren said calmly.

As they moved to take their places on the firing line, Ruby felt a hand — Yang's hand — upon her shoulder.

"Not bad," Yang said. "But you missed the part where you explain how we're going to hold this line."

Ruby looked up at her. "Is that an important part?"

"Professor Goodwitch would say they're all important," Yang replied.

"So how are we going to hold this line?" asked Nora quietly. "Because I kinda wouldn't mind knowing that myself."

There was a pause in which nobody, not even Ruby, said anything.

By shooting everything that comes near, and then hitting everything that comes closer?

Is that it, or does it need to be more specific?

Ruby glanced down the line; not too far away, she could see Team CFVY, and other teams beyond them, joining the Valish line; she wondered if they were having similar conversations to the one they had just concluded with the soldiers where they were.

She could imagine how things could have gotten confusing for them, but hopefully, now they would find things a lot simpler.

Now that the grimm were about to attack.

And they were about to attack. Ruby could tell. Now that they had finally reached the Valish line, the grimm were plain to see, for all the distance between them, for all that it was dark and the grimm were usually harder to see in the darkness. Maybe it was the moonlight, because the moon was bright tonight; or maybe it was the fact that there were so many grimm out there, and they had no interest in hiding. They didn't want to blend in with the darkness of the night; they wanted to be seen. Just like they wanted to be heard.

There were so many of them. So, so many, spread out across … Ruby could look from one side to the other, and she couldn't see where the grimm started or where they ended, and she certainly couldn't see where they ended at the back. There were so many of them they made the horde that had pursued them down the tunnel from Mountain Glenn seem like just a pack of beowolves by comparison.

There were so many of them, and they were making so much noise too. They were all roaring, all howling, all shouting to the broken moon like they wanted to break it further with the noise they were making, like they were going to charge the night sky, and not the Valish line. The goliaths that rose above the other grimm like the tallest trees in the forest trumpeted to the stars. The beowolves in the front ranks beat their chests and bared their teeth.

There were a lot of grimm. Had there been this many grimm at Ozpin's Stand after Mountain Glenn fell? Or was Ruby face to face with even more grimm than even her parents and Uncle Qrow had been up against when they made their names?

Ruby closed her eyes and bowed her head for a moment.

Let me be brave.

Let me be as brave as you.

She looked up and opened her eyes again. "What's the plan?"

"Who are you asking?" demanded Sergeant Robbins, his voice shaking. "You're the one what goes to school for this; you tell me. What are we supposed to do against … against all that lot, eh?"

Ruby pulled Crescent Rose out from behind her, spinning the weapon in her hand as it unfolded its thorns, slamming the scythe point down hard into the earth on the other side of the sandbags. "The plan…" she began, then trailed off, because she still wasn't sure that 'shoot all of them, and then engage in close combat' was enough of a plan to count.

Unfortunately, faced with the sheer numbers of the grimm in front of them — and what was honestly not the best defensive position to try and defend, it had to be said — there weren't any better plans coming to mind.

"The plan," Yang said. "The plan is that we try and take out as many of them as we can, with our fire, before they reach us. If it looks like they're actually going to reach our line, then we'll fall back towards the Mistralian camp — and while we're on the subject, send a … who's actually in charge here?"

Ruby couldn't help but notice that Yang's plan wasn't much more complicated than the best she'd been able to come up with.

That was reassuring to her on one level, even as it was maybe a little concerning on another.

"Major Wills has been the commanding officer since Colonel Blackthorn got promoted up to General Blackthorn," Sergeant Robbins said. "But I've not heard much out of him lately."

"Okay, then send someone back to the Mistralians and tell them we could really use their help up here right now," Yang said.

"We're going to retreat?" Ruby asked. Not hostilely, just to make sure, to clarify for her own benefit.

"If we have to, yes," Yang said. "There aren't enough of us to go head to head with them in close combat; there are too many, and we're spread too thin; we'd be encircled. We shoot at them, and if they get too close, we open up more space so we can keep shooting. We fight and retreat."

"What about when there's no more room to retreat?" Ruby asked. "What about when we reach the wall?"

"Then we'll stand on the wall!" Yang snapped, a whiff of smoke rising from her hair. "I'm trying my best here, Ruby."

Ruby swallowed. "I didn't mean to—"

"I know," Yang said quickly. "I know, it's just…" She hesitated. "We can't just stand here until we get overrun; what good will that do?" She grinned. "I didn't lead you here for a last stand."

"And I didn't come here to make one," Ruby said softly.

She looked down the scope of Crescent Rose; the grimm immediately grew larger in her sight; she could make them out so much better now; they were individual grimm and not just a black mass distinguished by the occasional really big grimm that stuck out above the others. She could see the smaller, immature beowolves in front — typical horde behaviour; send in the cannon fodder first to spare the older, larger grimm the initial fire from the defenders — and she could see the creeps stalking in between their legs; she could see the ursai behind; she could see the really big grimm, the goliaths and the cyclopes; she even thought that she could see a few beringels, as big as some ursai, although it was hard to say for sure because they were keeping themselves to the middle of the horde, if they were here. So many different grimm — was that a stormvermin? She thought it was; again, it was down low, moving around the edges of the beowolves. So many different kinds of grimm, big and small.

"Send the runner!" Yang ordered.

"R-right," Sergeant Robbins said. "Forshie, run back to the Mistralians and tell 'em … tell 'em we could use some 'elp, on the double, yeah."

"You don't have to tell me twice, Sarge," one of the other soldiers said before she scrambled away and began to run off, past the tanks, into the night in the direction of the Mistralian camp.

Ruby hoped that she found it okay. It was hard to look at all these grimm, especially up close through the scope like she was looking at them, and not think that they could use all the help they could get.

"Hey, Ruby," Nora said. "Do you think if you were to shoot one of those guys, it would shut them up for a second?"

The grimm fell silent. Even the flying grimm, the nevermores and the griffons and the teryxes hovering over the heads of the horde — and they were worrying Ruby a little bit, because it wasn't as though they had any airships to take them on — stopped shrieking. The whole horde, or at least the part of it facing them, went quiet.

As quiet as death.

Nora blinked. "Huh. Who knew we just needed to say something?"

A single immense roar ripped from the grimm's collective throat; before, they had all roared separately, like a disorganised mob all wanting something different, all trying to make themselves heard. Now, they roared like a crowd in the Amity Colosseum, like all the Mistralian fans joining together to sing about how it was coming home.

Now, it was the grimm's turn to roar with one voice, a voice like the storm, a voice like a hurricane, a single voice crying out that tonight, they would be the ones bringing it home.

And as they roared, they charged.

The beowolves and ursai, who had been standing on their hind legs, dropped onto all fours as they surged forward, the smaller, wirier beowolves swiftly outpacing the lumbering ursai and the stumpy creeps; only the scurrying stormvermin could keep up with them, and Ruby wasn't sure if they were trying to. Goliaths made the earth tremble as they jogged forwards as part of the packed mass; the tails of the deathstalkers with their golden stingers waved above the heads of the other grimm like battle banners. Nevermores and griffons sliced through the air, wings beating furiously up and down.

Ruby started firing. She might be the only one who could fire right now, but she didn't see the point in waiting. The grimm were going to come closer, their black stain devouring the landscape, covering up the grass like they were corrupting it, but that was no reason to let them keep coming on undeterred, was it? Especially if Yang didn't want to let them get too close. She squeezed the trigger and was rewarded with a beowolf's head exploding. Sure, it was only a young one, but every dead grimm was a good grimm, right?

If that … Ruby wasn't sure if that made sense.

Never mind. The point was killing grimm was good. She killed another one with another headshot, then a third, then a fourth. She fired and fired, and with every well-aimed and carefully placed shot, another juvenile beowolf lost both head and life, its trunk collapsing to the ground to begin turning to ashes as the rest of the horde trampled it underfoot.

Ruby squeezed the trigger. Crescent Rose clicked. She was out of bullets. Ruby tore her eye away from the scope and reached for the pouches on her belt for another magazine; she had some loose bullets on her belt as well, heavy armour piercing ones, but she was going to save those either until she really needed them or she had no other ammunition left. Magazines were easier and faster to load anyway.

She pulled out the magazine and slammed it into the mag well of Crescent Rose, yanking back hard upon the bolt to chamber her first round.

"Lucky you, having spares," Nora muttered as she fired a grenade from Magnhild. The missile left a pink trail through the night air as it rose, and then fell … fell short, exploding just ahead of the charging grimm. Nora cursed. "I don't have that many of these."

Ruby glanced at her. "You mean it's just those?"

"These grenades are pretty big to carry around," Nora replied apologetically. "And the dust isn't cheap either."

Nevertheless, she fired again, and this time, her grenade did not fall short; the grimm had kept on rushing forward, and so Nora managed to put a grenade behind their front line, exploding in a shower of pink in amongst the older grimm that hung back to let the younger and less experienced bear the brunt of the fire.

That hadn't worked out for them this time, if the grenade had landed where Ruby thought it had.

"Nice work!" Yang cried.

"Just do your best with what you have," Ruby said. "That's all we can do." She looked through the scope again and spotted an ursa moving towards the front of the horde. Like the beowolves, it looked young — it had no armour plates and hardly anything in the way of bone spurs — but it was still bigger and more dangerous than the beowolves. Ruby fired. Her first shot hit in the head but didn't penetrate the skull; the ursa faltered, shaking its head from side to side.

There was a crack in its bleached bone.

Ruby took careful aim, waiting for the ursa to start running again.

The grimm looked straight ahead as it bounded forwards once more.

Ruby fired, and her second shot shattered the bone mask and the ursa's head along with it. The body stumbled forwards to the ground and was covered up beneath the grimm tide like rocks on the beach being covered up by the rising water.

"Might be nice if some of those cannons would start firing right about now," Nora said.

There was a boom like thunder from behind them, and a shell arced over their heads to burst in a flash amongst the grimm.

Nora gasped. "I've got a magic voice!"

Ruby grinned. "Maybe you should ask for them to fire faster," she suggested as she shot another beowolf dead, then shot a stormvermin through the stomach for a bit of variety. It was true that the Valish artillery was beginning to fire, shells passing overhead, but it seemed not enough to her; they were firing too slowly, there were too big gaps between the shells, and they were firing almost randomly, not together, just every gun firing for itself when it could. What were they aiming at? The grimm, obviously, but which part of the horde? The front, the middle, the back? Did it matter? Maybe not, if killing grimm was all that mattered, and it was true that Nora had managed to hit the ones in the middle herself, but … it just seemed a little disorganised.

The fact that one shell actually landed behind them, showering Ruby's hair and cape with dirt as it exploded in a fountain of earth, sending a wave of heat that passed over Ruby and made her neck tingle, didn't make them seem any less disorganised.

Then the tanks started to fire, first one, then another, then the whole line of them opening up, guns roaring so loudly that Ruby half wanted to let go of Crescent Rose and cover her ears. She didn't, she kept on shooting until she'd exhausted another magazine, then reloaded, then started shooting again, but as the shells of the tanks shrieked overhead, she couldn't help but wonder if she'd be able to hear okay after this.

Hopefully, her aura would repair her eardrums.

Yang shouted something, but Ruby didn't catch a word of it; she couldn't have even begun to understand what her sister was trying to say. The tanks behind had muffled all other sounds.

But though shells from tanks and cannons burst amongst them, the grimm kept on charging. They weren't thinning their numbers fast enough, not even though other huntsmen besides Ruby and Nora were firing too; Ruby could glance down the line and see Coco from Team CFVY firing her rotary machine gun, and more fire coming from other teams that were too far away for her to make out. To the left, it looked like the Atlesians were supporting the Valish flank, missiles raining down from one of their cruisers onto grimm that were headed towards the Valish, not the Atlesian line.

It wasn't enough. There were still immature beowolves at the front, all black and little bone; they hadn't even winnowed them away yet.

And the flying grimm descended on them. Coco Adel raised her rotary machine gun and tore one nevermore apart with a stream of deadly fire, but other grimm, the nevermores and the griffons and the big teryxes that were supposed to be rare but didn't look it right now, they all dropped out of the sky down onto the Valish and the huntsmen.

Some of them fell upon the troops themselves, ignoring the panicked rifle fire of the Valish soldiers as nevermores scooped up one or two men — or even whole handfuls for the biggest, oldest nevermores — picking up the screaming, writhing, wriggling men and carrying them off away into the night.

Some of them ignored the soldiers and dived down on the tanks behind the line. Ruby raised her eyes from her scope and turned to watch as a teryx grabbed an Archer by the long barrel of its gun, physically lifting the tank up off the ground — a soldier emerged out of the turret to fire the machine gun into the grimm's belly, but the teryx didn't seem to feel a thing — and haul it over the Valish line before throwing it through the air to land with a crash and a smash and metal thrown everywhere amongst the charging grimm. It must have crushed some, hurt or killed others with the debris that flew in all directions, but the remaining grimm didn't seem to care as they swarmed over the wreckage.

Ruby was glad that they covered the tank from view; she didn't really want to see what they did next.

She found herself hoping that the crew had died in the drop.

Few grimm were large enough to do what the teryx had done, but a nevermore was able to flip a Cataphract up onto its back like a turtle, treads spinning futilely in the air as the crew scrambled out the hull hatch. Two griffons landed on the top of another tank and started trying to claw their way through the turret.

Yang leapt to the tank's defence, bellowing furiously as she ran across the grass, throwing punches at the air and firing her Ember Celica in the process, shot after shot flying from her gauntlets to strike one of the griffons in the flank. The grimm turned, shrieking, only for Yang to leap off the ground onto the hull of the tank and punch it square in the face. The griffon's head was snapped sideways as Yang shot the other with her free hand. Ren was firing now, firing at the two griffons, his Stormflowers crackling as the barrels blazed green. The first griffon, the one who'd got punched, lunged at Yang, beak open, but Yang swayed aside, somehow managing not to fall off the tank as she did so, and grabbed it with both hands by the neck as it beak closed on the air.

Now, Yang leapt off the tank, slamming the griffon down head first onto the ground and punching it in the throat with a blast from Ember Celica for good measure.

The second griffon leapt on top of her as the first one died, driving Yang down to the ground, face down. Ren ran to her, still firing, jumping onto the griffon's back like it was a horse, slashing at its neck with the blades attached to his guns.

He leapt off again as the griffon fell down dead, collapsing onto its side.

Ren rolled to his feet and offered Yang a hand up.

She didn't take it, but she did say, "Thanks," as she got up.

And some more of the flying grimm ignored the tanks the same way as those that were attacking the tanks had ignored the soldiers, swooping past the armoured vehicles into the night beyond.

The guns, Ruby realised. They're going for the guns.

Sure enough, the fire from the artillery behind began to falter, becoming even more sporadic than it had been before.

Now, Ruby understood why the Atlesians were always banging on about their air power; if the Valish had had airships — or if they hadn't thrown them away at the whim of an Equestrian creature — then none of this would be happening.

And the grimm, the main body of the grimm, all those beowolves and ursai and all the rest, they kept on coming.

Ruby returned her attention to her scope and shot another beowolf down dead. "Come on, fire!" she shouted. "We need to shoot them!"

Some of the soldiers did begin to fire, their boxy rifles with the square barrels barking, bullets flying into the grimm, but the grimm kept coming.

Their red eyes seemed to gleam brighter with anticipation.

"Oh, sod this!" Sergeant Robbins cried, a moaning wail as he threw down his gun and turned away, and ran away, trampling the grass beneath his boots.

"Hey!" Ruby cried. "Come back!"

But he wasn't the only one running; right where they were, it was as if his departure had been the crack that brought down the dam, all of the Valish soldiers retreating, some backing away a few steps, most of them just doing as Sergeant Robbins had done and running off back in the direction of Vale, running from the grimm with their teeth and claws, running from the nevermores who swooped down from above, running from the danger that was storming towards them.

And not just the soldiers near them; Ruby could look up and down the line and see soldiers everywhere, first small groups and then in whole streams, scrambling down off the fragments of wall, throwing their guns away or just abandoning them along with their positions, flooding away from the Green Line in a headlong rush towards the Red.

Ruby … Ruby could understand it. For the Valish Defence Force, tonight had been one shock after another, she supposed. Sergeant Robbins had told them as much, starting with the orders to fight the Atlesians, then the fact that their commander had been taken away in a straitjacket and there was a new commander, shock and surprise and confusion and now … now this. Not to mention the fact that, as a huntress, as someone with aura and training and a custom weapon, you could sometimes forget how scary the grimm were to people who didn't have all those things. What was just a beowolf to be brought down for Ruby was a terrifying monster to Sergeant Robbins, something out of his nightmares.

They were scared, just like Sunset had been scared, just like Amber was scared, and as they were scared, it was hard to blame them.

Didn't mean Ruby had to love it, though.

"Come back!" Ruby shouted. "If you run away, they'll just pursue you! Vale is counting on us! We need to hold them off as long as we can!"

Her words didn't seem to have much, or any, effect. They were too frightened, too confused, too shattered, too broken. They didn't have it in them to stand and fight, only to run. Or to drive away, in some cases, as tanks began to reverse backwards, or slew around and drive off, engines grumbling and sputtering and growling as they made the best speed they could — which wasn't very fast; that would be why some crews abandoned their tanks, leaping out of hatches on the hull and the turret and taking to their heels instead of trusting their tracks. But while they were doing that, some of the soldiers were trusting wheels over feet, hurling themselves into trucks or armoured cars and trying to drive away, with even more soldiers clinging to the outside of the vehicles rather than be left behind.

"What about your families?" Ruby demanded. "Don't you want to protect them?"

Even that failed to move them; it seemed they would rather return to their families than fight for them.

Nevermores swooped down from above on the fleeing soldiers. Ruby shot one, twice, which wasn't enough to kill it but did make it wheel away from its intended victim; other Valish soldiers weren't so lucky, plucked off the ground in the nevermore claws and carried off into the darkness. Trucks were torn into, armoured cars were thrown aside like toys, but it still wasn't enough to make the Valish soldiers fight. They still kept on running.

Fear had undone them all.

"We need to fall back," Yang said. "Nora, you and I will be the rearguard, Ren and Ruby will be behind us and provide covering—"

"No, we can't retreat now," Ruby declared.

"We can't hold this line by ourselves," Yang said. "Without the soldiers—"

"If we retreat now, the grimm will catch the soldiers; they'll be massacred!" Ruby cried. "We have to buy them time."

"Buy them time to run away?" Nora asked incredulously.

"Yes!" Ruby cried. "Because even if they're cowards, we're not, and we have to fight for them regardless."

Yang looked left and right. "Ruby…" She took a deep breath. "They get a one minute head start on us, then we're falling back; steadily, but we're falling back, fighting as we go until we meet up with the Mistralians coming the other way. Understood?"

Ruby nodded. That was fine by her. A minute didn't seem like much, but it was amazing how much ground you could cover in a minute when your adrenaline was pumping, even without a semblance.

Yang nodded too. She pumped both her fists, audibly cocking Ember Celica. "Then let's do this."

They stepped up to the line of sandbags that ran between two sections of the wall.

The grimm charged at them, a black wave topped with bony, red-eyed foam, claws out and teeth bared.

All four members of Team YRRN opened fire. Flames leapt from Ember Celica, Crescent Rose snapped and snarled, Stormflowers crackled, grenades like pink-tailed comets leapt from Magnhild to explode in clouds amongst the grimm.

One pink elephant, two pink elephant…

The grimm fell before them, a crescent of death appearing in the ranks of the hordes as gunfire and explosions swallowed up the grimm in front of them.

Ten pink elephant, eleven pink elephant.

Grimm charged in from the flanks of the crescent, but not flanking them, coming in front, just from the sides a little bit while those that were just rushing straight ahead faltered and slowed down. Ruby and the others switched their focus, Yang and Ruby firing to the right, Nora and Ren to the left.

Twenty-one pink elephant, twenty-two pink elephant.

"I'm out of grenades!" Nora cried, switching Manghild into its hammer mode.

Yang held up an arm, allowing a stream of spent cartridges to flow out of Ember Celica to fall down at her feet. "Ruby, how are you fixed for ammunition?"

Ruby slammed a fresh magazine into Crescent Rose and charged the bolt, chambering a new round. "I'm getting through it," she admitted as she shot another beowolf. They were getting to some of the larger ones now, the older ones with more bone on them; whether that was just where they were or the grimm were being thinned out all over, Ruby couldn't tell.

Not to mention that 'thin' was a very … what was the word, relative, yeah, it was a pretty relative term when it came to these grimm hordes. They might have killed all the little ones, but there were still tons and tons and tons of them behind.

Thirty-five pink elephant, thirty-six pink elephant.

It would be really good if I could use my silver eyes right now.

Then I'd be asleep for the rest of the battle, probably, but I've already slept through the start; what's sleeping through the end?

Thirty-nine pink elephant, forty pink elephant.

A beowolf came at them from behind, snapping and snarling. Yang killed it with a single punch, but it wasn't a good sign.

"We can't stay here; the time we've given them will have to be good enough," she declared. "Everyone back up, now!"

Ruby obeyed. She didn't argue, she didn't question, now wasn't the time for that. They didn't have time for that.

They backed away, slowly at first, as slow as they could without being surrounded anyway, still shooting at the grimm as they backed off — well, three of them shooting at the grimm; Nora was left to wait for them to get closer, even though they didn't actually want that to happen.

The grimm were slowed by the barbed wire; some of them leapt over it or climbed over the sections of wall, but others were mired in the wire or had to spend time tearing it apart, trying to slice the fine wire with their claws.

Or they could just trample over it, like the big ursa major which forced its way to the front, trampling down who knew how many grimm to get there, and proceeded to trample the wire too, crushing it beneath its feet.

It strode over the remains of the wire, and the rest of the grimm followed, knocking down the sandbags, spreading sand across the ground, stamping it into the grass.

Ruby shot the big ursa, then fired again, neither shot seeming to injure the giant grimm. Bone spines as big as Crescent Rose unfurled jutted out of its back, and its paws were about the size of all Yang's hair.

The ursa major strode forwards, and the grimm followed behind it.

Team YRRN backed away, their speed increasing a little.

Ruby ejected her latest spent magazine. She hauled the bolt back, exposing the chamber, and plucked one of the special long silver rounds from out of the bandolier slung across her waist.

She chambered it, snapping the bolt back into place.

She stopped moving, taking careful aim at the ursa major as it advanced, its huge paws swaying from side to side as it strode towards them.

Ruby's finger tightened on the trigger. She fired. The ursa major recoiled, head reeling backwards, its whole body swaying as though it might topple over onto its spiky back.

It didn't. The ursa righted itself, staying upright, rubbing its head with one paw.

Ruby reloaded, chambering a second of her special rounds. This ursa had a tough head; she would have thought one of these armour piercing bullets would be enough for sure.

The ursa roared, mouth opening gaping wide.

Ruby fired again, putting the bullet into the ursa's roaring mouth to blow clean through and out the back of its head. Now, the ursa tumbled backwards, landing on the ground with a crash like a falling tree.

"Nice work, Ruby," Yang said, throwing out shadow punches to fire Ember Celica in a stream of fire out at the grimm.

The grimm flowed around the decaying body of the ursa major, some of them heading straight forwards, others trying to get around and behind Team YRRN. Some eager beowolves darted close indeed, close enough for Nora to catch them with swings of her hammer, or Ruby to get them with her scythe. Others were more circumspect, waiting, enduring the fire from Yang and Ren and Ruby, waiting for the right moment to arrive.

The four of them quickened the pace of their retreat — they had little choice, with the grimm flowing around them — trying to stay not only ahead of their pursuers but also ahead of those seeking to cut them off.

It didn't work. The grimm moved faster than they could retreat, and while they were able to hold them at bay in front of them — at a cost to their diminishing store of ammunition — there was nobody to stop the grimm from flowing around the flanks of Team YRRN and closing the ring of black and bone around them.

There was nowhere they could go without a fight and no direction they could fight without exposing themselves to attack from all other directions.

They stood back to back, shoulder to shoulder, waiting. Yang's fists were raised, Nora's hammer was drawn back, Stormflowers and Crescent Rose were pointed at the enemy. The beowolves, the ursai, the stormvermin gathered around them, bony faces with red marking and gleaming red eyes all turned to them, staring at them. Other grimm moved around them, heading away from Team YRRN, continuing towards the Mistralians, towards Vale. Only some of them stayed, surrounding the four huntsmen.

Ruby wondered what they were waiting for, why they didn't just attack, bury them, get it over with.

Maybe … maybe they knew the first to attack would die and so none of them wanted to be the first to step forwards.

That would be … kind of funny, if it was true.

Funny, but not able to last forever. Already, the grimm were rocking back and forth, back and forth on their legs, tensing themselves, ready to sleep.

A beowolf in front of her coiled back.

A green beam, an immense beam of laser fire burst through the ranks of the grimm, turning whole rows of the monsters, beowolves and ursai and stormvermin, all of them to ashes in an instant. Grimm yelped in surprise, heads turning westwards.

West to where Penny stood, her carbines grouped around her, tips glowing like the embers of a dying fire.

"For the honour of Mistral!" came the cry from out of the dark. "For the pride of Haven!"

"For Mistral!" came the shout torn from dozens of throats as Pyrrha and Jaune and Arslan and all the swords and fists and guns of Mistral charged out of the night and slammed like a closed and armoured fist hard into the masses of the grimm.

 

[ScipioSmith]

The Bandit Path

​

The doors of the Skyray were closed, and since she wasn't in the cockpit, Pyrrha had little way of knowing how close they were to their destination of the Mistralian camp.

Not that it particularly mattered, she supposed; they would get there, as they said, when they got there.

But in the meantime, there was nothing but the waiting.

And, for at least some of her companions, the brooding.

The diminished and re-sorted Team SAPR — herself, Jaune, and Penny — were not the only occupants in the Skyray; Team ABRN had joined them in the airship. They, too, were diminished in number: Nadir Shiko had been wounded and taken to one of the Atlesian medical frigates to receive treatment. How much that would limit the effectiveness of Team ABRN was … for Arslan to say, not Pyrrha.

In any case, Pyrrha's attention was more upon her own teammates than on Arslan's. Jaune was sat down, eyes closed, the back of his head resting against the interior of the airship's fuselage. She might have thought that he was asleep, if it wasn't for the way that he was gripping so tightly the red sash that he wore around his waist.

Penny was standing, like Pyrrha, in the middle of the airship; unlike Pyrrha, she wasn't holding onto any of the ceiling straps, managing to stand straight without the assistance. She wasn't looking at Pyrrha, or at anyone else for that matter, her head bowed and one hand wrapped around her other wrist while her free hand fussed with her skirt, fingertips brushing against the fabric.

Pyrrha couldn't pretend that she could not understand the cause of Penny's anguish — or, if 'anguish' seemed too strong a word, then displeasure to say the least. While for herself, she could understand why Ruby would want to sever ties, and bore her no ill will for the doing so, Penny — and Jaune too, for that matter — were more blameless. And being blameless, was it any wonder that Penny would take it harder than Pyrrha herself? Was it any wonder that she should be subdued?

Pyrrha could wish Ruby luck, accepting that she had been in part the cause of this and hoping that Ruby could find more satisfaction and happiness with Team YRN than she had with them; she stood by her words and deeds, even though she regretted that they had made Ruby so unhappy, that hadn't been her intent. She could only hope that things worked out better for her hereafter. But for Penny, and for Jaune too, perhaps, it was bound to be different.

I should think myself lucky that they do not blame me for Ruby's departure, Pyrrha thought. If they did, I would be hard pressed to argue against it.

"Well, you three seem bluer than a nose on midwinter's night," Arslan muttered as she held onto one of the straps on the ceiling. "You want to gather round the bonfire with some spiced wine?" She grinned.

Pyrrha glanced at her, her eyebrows rising slightly; neither Jaune nor Penny reacted at all.

Arslan rolled her olive-coloured eyes. "Oh, for gods' sake," she said, her voice rising. "This is a fine thing, isn't it, to go into battle with the Vytal Champion, and she's so gloomy you'd think we were going to our deaths and not to glory? Cheer up! Or at least … you're supposed to be setting an example here, in courage and resolve." Arslan sniffed. "Obviously, I don't need you to model heroism for me, but Bolin does."

Bolin's eyes bulged as he let out a wordless sputtering cough.

"And Reese isn't even a Mistralian, so she's got no idea how to behave, and you're putting all the wrong ideas in her head," Arslan went on. "So come on, buck up and set an example for my poor teammates."

"Thanks, Arslan," Reese muttered. "You're so considerate."

Arslan smiled close-mouthed for a second, before she who had just bidden Pyrrha to cheer up relaxed her mouth back into a neutral look that verged upon a scowl. "I could breathe on you, if that would help?"

"No," Pyrrha murmured. "No, I don't think it would. Please, Arslan, will you not let this lie?"

"I'm not sure if I should," Arslan replied. "I wasn't joking, you know. Not entirely, anyway. You're the Vytal Champion now, P-money, laurels or no; that confers certain … obligations on you."

"I can imagine," Pyrrha sighed. "Are they different to the obligations laid on me as the Champion of Mistral?"

"I don't know; we never went into battle like this when you were Champion of Mistral," Arslan said. "And if you can imagine what the obligations are, perhaps you should make an effort to live up to them. Seriously, what are people going to think when we land and you step out of the airship looking like that?" She gestured at Pyrrha, who was left to rather imagine the expression on her face in consequence.

"What would you have me do?" Pyrrha asked. "Bound from the airship with a sunny beam upon my face?"

Arslan snorted. "You don't have to go that far, but you could at least look confident."

"You don't understand," said Jaune, a little testily, as he opened his eyes.

"Oh, don't I?" demanded Arslan. "So I didn't see Ruby getting onto another airship with Team Iron, after she wasn't up in the arena today to watch Pyrrha in the finals?"

Penny looked up.

"That's right, I've got eyes," Arslan said. "Now maybe you're right, I don't know what's going on between you and her, but … have you considered that you might be better off? I mean, I never—"

"Ruby's statue hasn't been pulled down for you to spit on it," Pyrrha said, softly but firmly, before Arslan could say 'I never liked her.' It might be true — the one time that Pyrrha could recall them interacting they had butted heads — but that didn't mean it would be helpful to hear it at the moment.

Indeed, true or not, in the circumstances, it could sound awfully opportunistic.

Arslan held up one hand. "Alright, fair enough." She paused. "But something has happened, hasn't it?"

"Yes," Pyrrha whispered. "Yes, it has."

"Was it my fault?" asked Penny.

Pyrrha looked around, Arslan almost forgotten as her sudden movement tossed her ponytail across her shoulder. "What? No, Penny, of course it wasn't your fault."

Penny looked up at her. "But I was the one who suggested that—"

"I think that this was something a lot longer in the germination than a single conversation tonight," Pyrrha said gently.

Jaune nodded. "I think Pyrrha's right," he said. "If Ruby had … if she hadn't already accepted it, then she wouldn't have been so … accepting, if that makes sense. She didn't argue, she just … I think she'd already made up her mind."

"Already?" Penny repeated. "When?"

"Only Ruby could tell us that," Jaune said. "If she wanted to."

"I suppose you're right," Penny murmured. "But all the same, so soon after … it doesn't make sense."

"Ruby was on her own, or just with … Amber and Dove," Jaune said. "Who knows what she decided, before…"

Penny nodded. "I … so you really think that it wasn't what I said? You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

"No," said Jaune. "No, I don't think this had anything to do with you. You've always been a good friend to Ruby, and I'm sure that she remembers."

"But she felt the desire to walk her own path," Pyrrha said. "Just as you did."

"Oh," Penny murmured. "Oh, I see. Yes, that … that makes sense." She glanced away for a second. "In that case, I hope that she finds what she was looking for, even if I'm not a part of it. Do you think that she'll join Team Iron permanently? I mean, there is a spot open, now that Blake is going to Atlas."

"Perhaps," Pyrrha said. "Only Professor Ozpin can say for certain, but it would be perhaps the most elegant solution."

"Where else would she go?" asked Jaune. "I think that will be it, it's hard to imagine anything else; I mean, she can't join Team Bluebell, can she?"

No, Pyrrha thought. No, indeed not. She wondered if Arslan or either of her teammates were listening and perhaps wondered exactly why Ruby couldn't join Team BLBL, but if they cared at all — and why would they? — they probably thought that there were personal reasons that they, as outsiders, were not privy to. Certainly, no one could think anything suspicious of what the three members of Team SAPR were not saying to one another; they were simply the details that friends would omit, knowing they were commonly understood by all concerned.

At least, Pyrrha hoped that was how it seemed.

"There are other teams," Penny pointed out. "I think. Aren't there?"

Jaune paused. "Now that you mention it, I … think so? I can't remember any of their names, though. Pyrrha?"

"Um…" Pyrrha thought about it for a moment. "Team Draper is a name, I'm sure, led by a Jack Darby."

"Who?" asked Penny.

"Yes, I think he's rather quiet," said Pyrrha.

"Well, anyway, wherever Ruby goes, I'm sure she'll be happy," Penny said. "I hope she'll be happy. And that means that we — that I — don't have any reason not to be happy either." She paused. "I don't want to be like Neon, glaring at Ruby and spitting at her everywhere she goes because she didn't stand shoulder to shoulder with the rest of us. I want to be like Rainbow Dash, and be as happy for Ruby as Rainbow as happy for me." She smiled. "So, let's do what Arslan said, because she's right—"

"Always," Arslan said.

Penny ignored her. "We need to put a brave face on things for the battle, whether people are looking at us or not." She reached out and took Pyrrha and Jaune by the shoulders. "I know that things are dangerous right now, and that there are a lot of grimm waiting for us beyond the Green Line. I know that there's … a lot that could still happen tonight, and a lot that we might have to do. But even if it's not exactly how we would like, even if all the people that we'd like aren't here, we can still get through this, together."

Pyrrha nodded lightly. She took a deep breath, and then another, breathing in and out, her chest rising and falling. Penny was right that Arslan was right — there was no point in a grim look, even if she had grim thoughts — and Penny was right moreover that there was little excuse for grim thoughts either. If Ruby was happier where she was, or where she meant to be, than she was with them, then who was Penny to complain about it?

She really was very mature for her age.

Jaune ran one hand through his long blond hair. "You're right," he said. "You're right, Penny, it … there's no point in … so long as Ruby's okay, that's what matters." He, too, breathed deeply in. "What do you think's waiting for us out there?"

"A lot of grimm," Arslan muttered.

Pyrrha let out a little chuckle. "Indeed. More grimm than we have ever seen or, with good fortune, will ever see again."

"But have they ever seen so many huntsmen and huntresses before, that's the question?" asked Reese Chloris. "If every huntsman is worth ten, twenty grimm—"

"Thirty, at least," said Arslan.

"Thirty's a lot, but okay," Reese allowed. "My point is, we might actually outnumber them in quality terms."

"I think even if every one of us was worth fifty of them, they might still outnumber us," said Jaune.

Reese's eyebrows rose. "Seriously. There's … that many of them?"

"I don't know exactly," Jaune admitted. "But we are talking about … three hordes or something."

"'Three'?" Reese repeated, her voice growing higher pitched. "There are three grimm hordes?"

"I told you to put on a brave face, not scare my teammate," Arslan said acerbically. "Reese. Reese, look at me. Look at me, not those losers."

Reese's head moved stiffly, as though her neck had gotten stuck in place like a rusty screw that required great effort to turn.

Arslan leaned towards her. Her cheeks puffed out momentarily as she blew upon Reese's face.

"Do you want to be a Mistralian?" she asked. "Do you want to stand as tall, be as respected, as Jason or Meleager or Medea of their ancient names?"

Reese nodded.

"Then now is the moment," Arslan declared. "Now is the time when the eyes of Mistral fall upon us! Yes, the odds may be against us, the situation may be grave or grimmer than the grimm themselves, but if we take heart, if we gird our courage and remember that we are the great hearted Mistralians clad in bronze, taught by Eulalia herself to fight, if we take heart and fight like lions bloody red, then we will be thought of as high as the White Tower itself. All we need do is cut into the heart of this darkness and slay the apex monster who commands them all. Do this, and all of … of Vale will be saved, and we will be honoured throughout Anima as heroes true as any old blood scion. Is that not something grand, something almost beyond hoping, something worth fighting for?"

Reese swallowed. "It is," she murmured. "It really is."

"Then let us fight for it!" Arslan cried, letting go of the ceiling strap, wobbling a little in her soft slippers as she took Reese by both hands. "Together, you and I."

Reese nodded once again, and a little smile began to cross her face. "Together," she repeated. "You and I."

"Like lions gold," Arslan said. She nodded too, and released Reese's hands to grab at the ceiling strap just in time before she fell over. "And that, Miss Penny, is how you make a speech to put some heart in someone."

"That was pretty good," Penny cooed. "Did you learn that in leadership class?"

Bolin snorted.

Arslan ignored him. "I may not be the best leader ever," she said, "but you don't need a class to teach you how to be a leader; all you need to do is read the classics. Now, I read them because, as a girl from the lower slopes, I was never going to get anywhere amongst the society of the likes of P-money over there if I couldn't banter quotes from The Mistraliad around the place, but even apart from that, you can learn a lot from the old stories."

"Those were the Red Lion's words to his followers, weren't they?" Pyrrha asked. "From before the Battle Beneath the Red Sun, when he championed the forces of Mistral against a grimm horde."

"And why not?" Arslan asked. "I may not be the Champion, but I am the Golden Lion, and that's not a name I took for nothing."

"So you're not really going to try and kill the Apex Alpha?" asked Jaune.

"That depends," Arslan said. "If the chance arises, I won't let it slip away."

Pyrrha supposed that the words Arslan had chosen, the words that Arslan had appropriated, were not inappropriate for the circumstances. Hopefully, this night would end … the Battle Beneath the Red Sun had been won, the Red Lion had slain the Apex Alpha and broken the grimm horde that threatened the city, but the Red Lion himself had died in the process, and many of his companions with him. The red sun had risen and set in a single day upon the Red Lion's glory. Hopefully, the night would end more fortunately for Arslan and Reese.

Penny frowned. "I didn't—"

She was interrupted by the sensation of the airship beginning to descend, turning in place as it lowered; one of the side doors opened to reveal the Mistralian camp beneath them, blue tents illuminated by the light of dust lamps burning red like smouldering embers in the darkness, burning away in part the shadow of the great battleship Dingyuan that hung in the sky above the camp. As their Skyray descended, joined by a throng of other Skyrays setting down in the same rough area, the open expanse of grass that lay beyond the tents, Pyrrha could see the Mistralian soldiers in blue uniforms standing in rough groups before their tents, awaiting the arrival of the airships.

They were only new recruits. They could not have been in those blue uniforms very long; this army — if it was large enough to be called an army — did not predate the Breach; it was a hastily created thing, the work of panic and a need to be seen to be doing something. What kind of men and women were they that had joined this army, to what purpose, and had they ever imagined, when they joined, when they put those blue uniforms on, that they would be standing between Vale and more than one horde of grimm?

Did the prospect frighten them?

Pyrrha confessed to herself that it made her somewhat apprehensive; to face a single grimm horde was quite sufficient; to face more than one at once? Who would not feel a slight trembling in their knees at the prospect, however much they might wish to hide it?

As Arslan said, we must seem brave.

And it may be that the Valish Defence Forces will hold their line, and the Mistralians will be left with nothing to do and nothing to boast of come morning.

If not … Mistralian valour, the fabled Mistralian martial prowess, will see us through.

She glanced at Jaune, and Penny, and even at Arslan.

Or we shall see one another through, together. Yes, yes, that is far more likely.

Pyrrha and the others dismounted as soon as the airship was low enough, leaping down alongside the other teams from Beacon and Haven. Polemarch Yeoh was waiting for them once they landed, accompanied by eight lictors, officers of the Council bearing bundles of rods adorned with axes, symbols of the authority — the very power of life and death — conveyed upon the Polemarch. She strode out ahead of her soldiers with her arms outstretched as though she meant to embrace Pyrrha, although she soon realised that, in fact, the Polemarch meant to encompass all the students.

Something for which Pyrrha was quite thankful, even if Polemarch Yeoh did seem to be focussing her attentions upon Pyrrha herself.

"Welcome!" declared Polemarch in a grandiose tone. "Welcome to all the heroes of Mistral! How honoured we are to have this opportunity to fight by your sides!"

"I regret that it must come to such an honour," Pyrrha replied softly. "I would rather you had the opportunity to depart for home without a shot fired than fight with me, and I am sure that others would say the same."

I would rather so much more than this. Of all things this, this battle, this peril, this entire night, all that has been and may yet lie before, all is so far from my heart that to say 'I do not wish it' seems insufficient.

I would give my laurels up to Weiss, all my Mistralian triumphs and dedications in the temple unto Arslan, all my vain epithets and enthusiastic onlookers if only some god would descend on a crane and grant me the wish to undo this last day and night.

All that I have won for the chance to be back in the doubles round with Sunset, facing Trixie and Starlight. Let me throw the match and see Trixie crowned as Vytal Champion, or Umber Gorgoneion perhaps, and I will take instead some things truly worth desiring.

I would not encounter Cinder last night, not even to triumph over her. I would have Sunset remain at our side, all truths concealed.

I would go east with Ruby, I would take Amber to Mistral, I would have all things bathed in sunlight.

And I would not have this. I would have anything but this.

"Nay, Lady Pyrrha, nay, this is the work of fate," said Polemarch Yeoh. "To crown our expedition with the laurels of glory even on this same night when your brow has been crowned with the prize of victory. Glory shall be ours as it has been and even further shall be yours." She paused a moment, and raised her voice yet higher. "Great ones in Mistral now asleep, or huddled gawping round a TV set, will think themselves accursed they were not here to fight with us this night, upon this Vytal night."

"If only they were here with us," Jaune observed, "instead of where they are."

Polemarch Yeoh looked at him. "It is Jaune Arc, no? I don't believe we've had the pleasure."

"Um, sorry, no," Jaune agreed, shuffling his feet uncomfortably upon the ground. "No, we haven't. But yes, yes, I'm Jaune Arc." He stepped a little closer to Pyrrha, ending up with one arm behind her, as though he sought to hide from Polemarch Yeoh.

Polemarch Yeoh smiled. "Photographs do not do justice to the glossy lushness of your hair," she observed. "Or to the lustre of your sapphire eyes." She chuckled. "I think the magazines and newspapers must be editing your pictures to enrage the people that someone plain and unhandsome has won the heart of our Invincible Girl."

Arslan snorted. Pyrrha rather wished that she wouldn't, but then she heard Penny giggling ever so slightly as well, though she was at a loss to see what was so funny about it.

Although she had to admit that she had noticed that Jaune didn't look as cute or handsome in pictures as he did in person, but she had attributed that to the fact that, well, a reproduction could never match the quality of the real thing, nor capture intangibles such as the light in Jaune's eyes, the brightness of his smile. She had never considered that it might be the result of photo manipulation.

But then, she wasn't sure how seriously she ought to take Polemarch Yeoh at this present moment.

Jaune's cheeks flushed a little. "I, um, I don't know—"

"Do not wish for one man more, nor woman either," Polemarch Yeoh instructed him. "Not great old Chiron nor Lord Rutulus and his Bloody Fox, nor Lady Terri-Belle of the White Tower and all her Imperial Guard, wish not for any of them. We are enough, have strength enough, valour enough, weapons enough to do great things upon this Vytal night without assistance. We need no help from Vale nor Atlas, nor from Mistralians far off and sound asleep; we are enough, we gallant few. Wish not for aid, to dilute the glory that will be ours come morning; we have no need of it."

Pyrrha felt foolish for taking so long to realise that Polemarch was not really speaking to her or Jaune or any of the other students but to her soldiers, and upon her soldiers, her words seemed to be working; as she spoke them, the heads of the men and women in blue rose, their backs straightened; some of them even moved into something more like formed up ranks.

If her words give comfort, then who am I to contradict?

"As you say, Polemarch," she said, bowing her head. "For myself, you do me honour by being honoured by my presence, but I at least am at your service and command."

"And I, too, ma'am," Arslan added, bowing also.

"You are the Steward's voice here, Polemarch, a magistrate of the Mistralian people," said Violet Valeria. "Give the word."

"Even I shall obey you," said Umber Gorgoneion, the sound of whose voice came as surprise to Pyrrha who had expected her to leave with the Beacon students. "On this occasion."

Polemarch Yeoh clasped her hands behind her back. "Last night, General Ironwood asked me to be ready to move should the Valish abandon their position. He hoped that, if the Valish should falter, I and my forces could occupy the position and secure his flank. Meanwhile, General Blackthorn took great pains to assure me that my forces would not be needed tonight and that we should take our ease upon the ground like so many picnickers. They say now that he is mad, poor fellow, but Colonel Sky Beak has asked me to withdraw behind the Red Line and reinforce his troops there," she said. "I will not do that, but as I told General Ironwood, we will wait here, as a reserve, in case the Valish should abandon their position in front of us."

Pyrrha raised her head. "That is all very well, Polemarch, but … could we not move closer to their line in case we are needed? At the moment … are we not far away?"

"And what would moving closer to the Valish line avail us, Lady Pyrrha?" asked Polemarch Yeoh. "If the Valish are taxed and require help, then they know where to find me here at my camp."

"But what if they ask for help, but then the grimm break through before you get there because you're too far away?" asked Penny tentatively.

"I told General Ironwood that I would move forward, and I will," said Polemarch Yeoh. "I did not guarantee him that I would get there before the grimm, and he can have no cause to complain that I did not. Nothing is certain in battle."

"The Valish might have some cause to complain," Jaune pointed out, though Polemarch Yeoh did not choose to answer him.

Penny said, "But don't we stand a better chance trying to hold the grimm back on the defensive line, instead of somewhere behind it in these fields?"

Polemarch glanced at her. "You are … Penny Polendina, isn't it? An Atlas student?"

"I'm transferring to Beacon next year," Penny said defensively. "And I'm fighting with Team Sapphire."

If Polemarch Yeoh found that surprising, she did not let on. "Huntsmen and huntresses," she went on, "are not a Mistralian creation, and yet, they exemplify a Mistralian way of fighting, a way that is sometimes thought of as the only Mistralian way: to face your enemy head on, not only head on but head high also, to meet them openly with a brave heart and a willingness to endure all perils. That is a Mistralian way, old and honoured and celebrated in our greatest works of poetry. But it is not the only Mistralian way; there is another: the bandit's way, the brigand's way, the way of those who survived in the face of great power determined to destroy them. The way in which I have trained my soldiers. I must confess to you all I have my doubts that the Valish can withstand a grimm attack of great magnitude.

"Your Atlesians, Miss Polendina, may hold their ground; in fact, I would wager money that they will, because that is the battle for which they are well-equipped: to meet the grimm muzzle to muzzle, with all their panoply of war bent to support them. I have fought alongside Atlesians, I have been saved by Atlesians, and I have witnessed how they fight, with their airships, their spider droids, their fire support. An impressive sight, a terrible sight when one considers what it would be like to be subjected to such … and all of it necessary to fight as they do. To try and fight as they do, equipped as the Valish are, still less as we are, without airships, without droids and artillery, missiles … I fear it is a folly, and I will not throw my command away attempting to imitate Atlesian tactics without Atlesian tools.

"If the Valish request my help, then I will move forward, as I told General Ironwood that I would, but I will have you huntsmen and huntresses move forwards as a vanguard, in advance of my own troops. If you reach the Valish line and find that it is still holding, then send a swift runner back to me, and I will bring up the main body. If, on the other hand, you reach the Valish line, or reach the Valish forces having been driven from their line, then send a runner back to me and then fall back yourselves, to where I will have set an ambush capable of catching the grimm in a deadly crossfire. That is the battle I would prefer to fight, the bandit battle, a battle that will favour light forces bereft of heavy equipment. Yes, if the Valish were to break before I reached them, that would suit me better."

"As Jaune said, Polemarch, it might suit the Valish less," Pyrrha declared, thinking that the Polemarch would answer her even if she would not answer Jaune. "Far be it from me to question the plans of a magistrate of the Council, but the Valish, our own classmates amongst them, will they not be overrun?"

"Not if you run swiftly to their rescue, Lady Pyrrha," Polemarch Yeoh replied, without any sense of offence in her voice at having been so questioned. "I do not ask you to abandon your fellow students; I do not even say that the Valish must break, only that it would suit me better if they did. And if your classmates are wise, if the Valish officers are wise, they will realise that their position is untenable and begin to retreat in such good order as they can manage." She paused, looking Pyrrha in the eye. "Are your classmates wise, Lady Pyrrha?"

Pyrrha thought about it. It was … difficult to imagine Ruby retreating, but not impossible, not in the right circumstances. "I hope so," she said softly.

"If they are not, then you must run swift and run to their rescue," Polemarch Yeoh declared. "I have no doubt that you gallant young huntsmen and huntresses can make it in time."

How nice of you, Polemarch, to turn my misgivings back upon my own shoulders, Pyrrha thought.

Pyrrha was silent. Polemarch Yeoh's plan was not what she had expected to hear from the woman who had been chosen by the Council to command Mistral's fledgling forces — as Polemarch Yeoh herself had said, it was not the traditional Mistralian way of war — but that did not make it an invalid stratagem. It was not expected, it was not traditionally Mistralian — Polemarch Yeoh's comments on bandits and brigands sounded more like an attempt to coat innovation in the protective armour of orthodoxy than anything else — but the traditionally Mistralian way of war, ancient and august, sung of by the poets of the past, famed in statue and story, had failed in the Great War and died the death at the Battle of Four Sovereigns. These were not the old days. The world had moved on, and perhaps the tactics of the Mistralians must move also.

To ambush the grimm … it was not something a huntsman would have considered, but then, these were not huntsmen; they were neither trained nor equipped to face the grimm in open battle. If Polemarch Yeoh thought that she could pull this off, then there was no reason not to play their part in it — unless one felt that it was somehow immoral not to rush immediately to the aid of the Valish at the fastest speed.

We will be doing that, if called upon; the fact that Polemarch Yeoh will be following on behind more slowly is … some might call it prudent, to send a vanguard in advance of the main force, as was often done with the armies of the past.

Should I rate and rebuke her for a degree of caution?

We will be rushing forward, if we are asked for our help; that being so, why should I complain that Polemarch does not move so swiftly?

Because we may be too late, and all lost before we arrive? If the Valish, blinded by their pride, do not request help in time, then Ruby—

Ruby would rage at this, to be thought in need of rescue by us, to be thought incapable of holding the line alongside Team YRN, to have us rush to her aid before she has even asked for aid.

She would not wish us to come before we are called.

And Yang, Nora, and many other great-hearted Beacon students are there, even if the Valish soldiers are without airships to protect them; they will not be destroyed in mere moments. We must have faith in them.

I must have faith in them.

The faith I did not demonstrate before.

And they are wise, and if they need aid, they will send for it in time.

And we will run swift, as Polemarch Yeoh has put it.

All that being the case, there is no further reason to object. It seems to me, young though I am, and inexperienced, that the Polemarch's plan is as sound as any.

Not that she said so. She might be the Vytal Champion, but as she was not a Haven student, it was hardly her place to speak for the others.

Although Arslan was looking at her as though it was.

She even gestured forward with one hand, indicating for her to go ahead.

You might as well speak as I, Pyrrha thought. You are the Golden Lion, after all, and a Haven team leader.

Pyrrha looked over Arslan's head, across the other students. None of them said anything: Violet Valeria, who had led the defence of the fairgrounds; Cicero Ward the Younger, son of a Councillor; Haven students and team leaders were silent, and some of them were openly looking at her.

At last, after some uncomfortable moments had passed, someone spoke; that someone was Umber Gorgoneion, as she pushed her sunglasses a short way back up her nose. "A sound plan. If it works, it may become a model for situations such as these. Eminently feasible for us, if your forces can play their part."

"But wait a second," Sun said, finding his voice. "If the grimm break through the Valish line, and we fall back, and you set an ambush … General Ironwood's forces will have no one protecting their flank, right?"

"That is correct," Polemarch Yeoh admitted. "But I never promised General Ironwood that I would retake any position taken by the grimm, nor do I believe he would expect me to do so, for it cannot be done, certainly not by my forces and perhaps not even by his. General Ironwood will have to manage the situation as best he can; as one of the great captains, I have no doubt he will make do."

"But…" Sun began. "But if they … there must be a better way than this?"

"I will do the best I can," Polemarch Yeoh replied evenly. "But the best I can do is not to charge headlong into a mass of grimm like Lady Aetolis on the field of Four Sovereigns. A sacrifice of my command would avail Atlas nothing."

Sun was silent for a moment. All the huntsmen and huntresses were silent. Sun's jaw tightened, and his tail drooped down to the ground between his legs.

Without another word, he turned away and began to stalk off.

"Where are you going?" asked Sun's blue-haired teammate.

"Where do you think he's going?" muttered another member of Team SSSN, a young man with red hair and a red jacket slung across one shoulder. "He's going to find his girlfriend. He's so whipped I'm surprised he could stay away this long."

"Why do you have to be like this, dude?" asked the blue-haired boy.

"Why are you defending him after everything that he's—?"

"Enough!" Polemarch Yeoh declared, firmly but not angrily. "I understand that you are young, and in your youth are eager for the fray, but I have seen war, and I have seen the grimm, and I tell you with the voice of experience that I do not believe the Valish can hold their line. Yet even then, I will not abandon them, though I hope to arrive too late for the sake of my own soldiers. I walk the line between honour and wisdom, though it is a narrow path. I do what I have promised, and no more than any reasonable soldier would demand of me." She paused. "Though I am a magistrate of the Mistralian people, empowered by them, I have no authority over you. If you wish to depart, I have no right to stop you, nor will I try.

"Nevertheless, I ask you, the pride of Mistral, the hope and blooming roses of our state, to trust me. Trust in my experience, and in my goodwill towards my soldier, my kingdom, and to you — and to our allies also. I do not seek to betray Atlas or Vale; rather, I seek to play my part in the defence of Vale in the manner that will defend Vale and not merely give the grimm a few more corpses to chew upon before they rush onwards to the city walls.

"If the Valish do falter, as I believe they must, then we will be all that stands on this side of the field between the grimm and the city. So ask yourselves, what is in the better interests of Vale: that we should die well or that we should fight wisely?"

No one, not even from Team SSSN, made any move to follow Sun away.

Arslan cleared her throat. "Polemarch, this all sounds fine to me, except … maybe I'm just being ignorant of war, but how are you going to hide that for an ambush?" She pointed upwards towards the Dingyuan.

Polemarch Yeoh glanced upwards herself, as if she needed to be reminded that her ship was there.

"My hope," she said, "is that the grimm will not take the presence of the airship as a necessary indicator of ground forces below; I hope instead that they will think us incompetent, inexperienced, unable to properly coordinate the deployment of air and ground assets. Of course, when our ambush reveals itself, the Dingyuan will add its fire to that of the infantry."

"And," Pyrrha said, "until the Valish request our assistance, what then?"

"Then nothing, Lady Pyrrha," Polemarch Yeoh said. "Nothing but the waiting."

XxXxX​

The waiting was … it had to be admitted that the waiting would not be the hardest part unless the Valish managed to repel the grimm attack with ease and the Mistralians were left with nothing to do for the rest of the need, and perhaps not even then — even if the Mistralians were left with nothing to do, there might still be a need to go to Professor Ozpin's aid in dealing with Amber — but that did not make the waiting easy.

Pyrrha fussed with the vambrace on her left arm, adjusting it by minute degrees, gripping it and ungripping it, shifting her brown-gloved hand over it, tracing the arrow stamped upon it.

She looked up from the bronze vambrace, looking around to see how others were dealing with the waiting. Arslan was doing push-ups on the grass, hands pressed down into the dirt, while Reese Chloris counted for her; Bolin Hori paced up and down, twirling his staff in his hands; Sun's blue- and red-haired teammates were not speaking to one another, while their tall, green-haired companion went back and forth between the two carrying messages; young Cicero Ward was writing a letter, using the back of one of his teammates as a rest; Umber was speaking to someone who … Pyrrha thought they might be another Shade student, but not a member of Team UMBR.

Perhaps there were more Shade students here than she'd thought; evidently, there were; she appeared to have maligned them.

Although it did confuse her a little why they should be here with the Mistralians; there seemed no reason for them to stay.

Mind you, there was no reason for them to go forward with the Beacon students to the Valish line either, save that it was where the battle would be fought.

"It's quiet," Jaune observed.

"Hmm?" Pyrrha asked, looking at him. "I'm sorry, I was—"

"Thinking?" Jaune guessed.

"More looking than thinking," Pyrrha admitted. "What did you say?"

"I said 'it's quiet,'" Jaune repeated.

Pyrrha listened. It was indeed. Aside from the occasional hooting of an owl and the sounds coming from they themselves — and from the Mistralian soldiers as they, too, waited, half-formed in their companies, but not waiting silently in ranks like automatons — there was little to hear.

"Yes," Penny said, and she seemed to be moved to keep quiet by the quietness of the world around them. "Yes, it is."

"No sounds of fighting," Jaune explained. "I mean, if the grimm were attacking, then don't you think we'd hear them fighting back? We'd certainly hear the Atlesians, right? All those missiles, and whatever else they've got, and maybe we'd hear the Valish too. Not gunfire maybe, but cannons. But it's quiet. So it hasn't started yet."

"Yes," Pyrrha said. "Yes, it … it cannot have begun yet."

"So everything is fine," Penny said. "Or everyone is still fine, anyway. We don't need to…"

Pyrrha blinked. "Don't need to what, Penny?"

"Don't need to … to feel bad," Penny said. "For being here, instead of with them."

Pyrrha hesitated for a moment, before she reached out and took one of Penny's hands in her own. "But you do, don't you?"

"I…" Penny also paused for a moment. "Ruby probably wouldn't have wanted us there anyway."

Pyrrha didn't reply to that. She wasn't sure what to say.

"I'm sure she doesn't hate us that much," Jaune said.

Yes, that, that was what there was to say.

"Do you think so?" Penny asked. "Really?"

"Yeah," Jaune replied. "I really think so. She just … wants some space. Needs some space. Just like … just like I needed some space from my parents and my sisters, but … I never stopped loving them. And Ruby won't, or hasn't, stopped liking you or thinking about you as a friend just because … of this."

"Far be it from me to intrude upon your conversation," said Umber Gorgoneion airily as she swept down upon them, her long black coat trailing after her, the moonlight glinting off the toecaps of her boots. The girl that she had been speaking to followed a step and a half behind.

"But you're gonna anyway, right?" Jaune asked, in a manner that was not entirely friendly.

Umber smiled thinly. "I won't presume to comment on your relations with … Ruby, was it, but as to whether or not you should have remained here or, as Beacon students, gone with the … other Beacon students, I think that you made the right choice. While, from my perspective, it is unfortunate that … would you say it is honour that demands that we must make some effort to succour the Valish if they ask for our help?"

"Isn't that just the right thing to do?" asked Penny.

Umber chuckled. "If it were only the right thing, Penny Polendina, Mistralians wouldn't be doing it; they very rarely concern themselves with the right thing. But they can occasionally be stirred to do the honourable thing." She turned a shark-like smile on Pyrrha. "Is that not so, Lady Pyrrha?"

"I think it is a little harsh," Pyrrha said. "There are many examples, old and new, of Mistralians doing the right thing. Camilla Volsci's destruction of the criminal underworld—"

"Vengeance, sanctified by venerable tradition and the demands of honour," Umber said. "But, in any event, if Polemarch Yeoh's plan works as she hopes, it seems much more sound to me than any attempt to hold this Green Line by force of arms."

"You seem very sure of that," Pyrrha said softly. "Is that why you're here?"

Umber chuckled lightly. "No, I must confess that I, that we … forgive me, Lady Pyrrha; allow me to introduce Elektra Fury of Team Gear."

Elektra was a young woman of average height, a little shorter than Arslan, but not much more, with a dark skin tone reminiscent of Atlas — or Argus, considering her name. Her hair was red and worn in ringlets down the back of her neck halfway down her back; she wore a black tunic, loose fitting and leaving one shoulder bare, with a blood-red sash draped from her uncovered shoulder down to her other hip and beyond it, trailing down almost to the floor. A skirt with a flame pattern of gold and orange fell down to her knees. Upon both wrists, she wore golden bracelets shaped like snakes coiled around her skin, while like Umber, she wore a silver armband on her right arm. She bowed her head. "It is an honour."

"And a pleasure," Pyrrha said. "And please, Pyrrha will be perfectly well."

"In this company, I fear it would see us torn to pieces," Umber observed. "As I was saying, I am here because, having resolved to fight … Mistral is the land of my birth, though it is not the land of my choice. Being so, where should we better take our stand?"

"For most of the other Shade students, the answer seems to be nowhere," Jaune pointed out.

"Yes…" Elektra said softly. "Vacuo is … Vacuo has many excellent qualities; it is a land of light and darkness as all are, but it has a certain reputation, and it is a pity that so many of our fellow students are content or even willing to live down to it. But there is more to Vacuo than that reputation, let us assure you. Though it be less visible, another Vacuo grows in the desert sands, a better Vacuo, a bolder Vacuo, a Vacuo … a Vacuo that, if the gods are good, will resemble the Mistral that should have been but never was, the Mistral that is sung of but which never truly lived."

Pyrrha frowned. "You speak … I fear I do not take your meaning."

"You will, perhaps, in time," Umber replied. "In time, you may look back upon this conversation, and it will be as if a light was switched on in your mind, and you will understand everything, but for now, it is enough to say that, although we love Vacuo, the Vacuo we love is not afraid to stand its ground."

"But you'd rather be here than standing with the Valish or the Atlesians," Penny pointed out.

Elektra grinned. "She has us on the hip, Umber."

"Indeed you have," Umber agreed. "There is some worth to the idea of defending what belongs to one, what one has worked for and built, but just because that is true, it does not follow therefore that the best strategy is simply to plant oneself foursquare between danger and that you would protect. When faced with a stronger danger — and if it were not stronger, would it really be a danger at all? — one should be wise and cunning, as well as bold. Indeed, I will go so far as to say that cunning is to be preferred to boldness in such circumstances. The Atlesians, by means of having stolen everything of worth from Vacuo that wasn't nailed down and dug up much that might have been solidly secured beneath the earth, become rich enough and powerful enough and technologically advanced enough" — she spat those words — "that it can afford not to be cunning anymore, for its cunning in the past was sufficient to ensure its success. So now, they can be as muscle-headed as they like and stand like stones and make a wall against the power of the grimm. The rest of us, Vacuo, Mistral, and Vale if they would be sensible, are of a different sort. We must be cunning; we have no better hope."

"You make it sound hopeless for the Valish," Penny murmured.

"I do not hold out a great deal of hope that a grimm horde can be repulsed by a static defence, no; I am of the Polemarch's mind in that," Umber said honestly. "I may be proven wrong, but—"

She was interrupted by a thunderous sound from the east, a rolling thunder that began softly and then rose and rose in intensity, thunder rolling on and on because it wasn't really thunder at all; it was the firing of all the guns along the Green Line, Atlesian and, presumably, Valish also. Looking to the north, Pyrrha could see the Atlesian cruisers were firing immense barrages of missiles down to the ground, and she could see the flashes of laser fire, the red lasers of the cruisers, the green lasers of the smaller airships, she could see little lights like flares rising up out of the darkness and then falling down again. Some rose and fell slowly and singly, others flew more swiftly and in torrents.

That variety was only seen to the north; directly east of them, they only saw the single flares, spread out, which must have been conventional artillery coming from the Valish.

Pyrrha hoped that it would be enough.

Atlas has many weapons and airships, but the Valish have the Beacon students; that must count for something.

If technology is all that matters, then Umber is right: we are all lost, save only Atlas.

Penny clasped her hands together across her chest and bowed her head. She whispered, but despite the softness of her voice, she could be heard nonetheless by those who were close by.

"Lady of the North, um … you probably don't like me very much right now, and I don't have any right to ask you for anything … but I'm not asking for anything for myself; it's for someone else, and that person hasn't done anything to upset you! I'm sorry, I'm not very good at this, but let's see if I can remember how this goes: stand with Ruby and Team Iron, and with all the other Beacon students, I guess; stand with them against the grimm and keep them alive. I suppose you must be very busy standing with Ciel and the Atlesians at the moment, but Ciel's got Rainbow Dash and Blake and General Ironwood looking out for her, so could you maybe spare some attention for someone who doesn't have all of those things?"

Pyrrha wondered — she could not help but wonder — if Penny really believed that that would have any difference.

Or whether it brought her some solace nonetheless.

Arslan stopped doing her push-ups and started to walk towards them. "It's started, then," she said.

"So it would seem," Pyrrha replied in a soft voice.

Arslan reached up and played with one of the beads of fire dust around her neck. "I should carry more of these around at a time," she muttered. "There's a lot more firing coming from over there than there is from that way," she added, pointing a thumb eastwards.

"Over there is the Atlesians," Penny explained.

"Oh, yes, right, yeah, of course, I should have known," Arslan murmured. "Do you wish you were over there instead of here?"

"No," Penny said at once. "I'm … I don't wish I was over there."

"Fair," Arslan muttered. She folded her arms and turned her attention westwards, in the direction of the city itself, where the lights were partially by the wall of the Red Line, but which could still be seen gleaming over it, the lights shining though the source of the light was concealed. Vale could not be seen, but its presence could be discerned.

"This place has rotten luck, doesn't it?" Arslan asked.

"For the moment," Pyrrha said, thinking that it might be Mistral's turn to have some 'rotten luck' next.

After all, if Amber did succeed in carrying away the Relic, or if someone else did, or even if the Relic of Choice remained secure at Beacon for now, then Salem would need all four relics to complete her foul design. It stood to reason, then, that at some point, every kingdom in Remnant would endure some 'rotten luck' when Salem turned her gaze in their direction. It might be Mistral's turn next, or it might be that Atlas or even Vacuo would come under attack first, but Mistral's turn would come eventually.

And when it did … all the misfortunes that had this year fallen upon Valish heads would fall on Mistral; would her home, petty-proud and obsessed with what must be admitted to be rather trivial things, be able to bear the weight of such?

She wished that she could believe with all her heart that it would.

Certainly, Mistral had no cause to look at Vale with any smugness.

"Maybe it does," Penny said. "But at the same time, I think that Vale is very lucky, that when its luck has been so bad, it's still had so many good friends to help it."

Umber sniffed. "What an Atlesian attitude, to think someone fortunate that they have suffered misfortune in such a way that allows Atlas to swoop in and save the day — and steal all the money they can get along the way, no doubt."

"No," Penny said. "This isn't about Atlas, or at least it isn't just about Atlas; it's about everyone, being here, at this moment. At just the right time."

Perhaps Salem should have chosen a quieter time to try and bring down Vale and acquire the Relic.

"Help!" a voice cried out from the darkness. "Help!"

The eyes of all the huntsmen turned eastwards, to where the sound was coming from. The voice was not one that Pyrrha recognised. It sounded like a woman, but she could say no more than that.

She prepared to summon Miló and Akoúo̱ into her hands, as she saw other huntsmen and huntresses reaching for their weapons, and the Mistralian soldiers began to finger their weapons too.

And yet, the Valish guns were still firing to the east, and surely, if the grimm had already broken through, then they would have ceased to fire by now, the guns overrun or dragged away to prevent them from being lost. They were still firing, which must surely mean the Valish were still fighting, no?

Pyrrha looked and watched the Valish fires as they rose and fell, rose and fell; were there fewer guns firing now than there had been, or was it just her fears that told her so? How bad was it really?

"Hold fast," commanded Polemarch Yeoh, striding forward. "There is no need to panic."

"Help!" cried the voice again, a voice that soon revealed itself as belonging to a Valish soldier, dressed in green, as she burst out of the darkness with eyes wide, darting this way and that as she looked around. "Help, who… who's in charge?"

"That would be me," said Polemarch Yeoh, approaching her with swift strides. "What news, soldier?"

The Valish soldier took a deep breath. "Help," she gasped. "We … need help. Lot of grimm out there."

"Is the line holding?" Polemarch Yeoh demanded.

"I don't know," the soldier replied. "I was sent for help before they attacked."

"I see," Polemarch Yeoh murmured. She paused for a moment, drawing back her shoulders. "Soldiers! Webbing on!"

Pyrrha had no idea what she meant by that, until she saw the Mistralian soldiers throwing what looked like capes or ponchos made of net, with what seemed to be leaves or twigs or grass stuck of the netting, which covered over their blue uniforms and draped down to the ground, leaving only their arms free. They also, as she watched, started to pull similar nets on over their helmets.

"Huntsmen and huntresses, pride of Mistral, move forward," Polemarch Yeoh commanded. "We will follow, expecting word from you of what lies ahead."

The huntsmen moved. No one gave the command, no one ordered them forward, but they moved nonetheless, almost as one; they didn't move perhaps with Atlesian discipline, being in more of a rough clump than an organised formation, but they moved forward nonetheless.

Miló and Akoúo̱ flew into Pyrrha's hands as she began to run forwards; Jaune scraped Crocea Mors free of its scabbard and transformed the scabbard itself into a shield; Floating Array emerged from out of Penny and hovered over her head as she ran alongside them. All the huntsmen and huntresses had their weapons ready — except for those like Arslan who barely used weapons — in case the grimm had already broken through the Valish line.

Although, if they had already broken through, then that meant … that might mean…

No, no, she couldn't think like that. None of them could afford to think like that. They needed to maintain their focus; Pyrrha needed to maintain her focus.

Think only … think only necessary things tonight. Think only of battle, and not of nightmares.

They moved forward, without knowing how close or how far behind the Mistralian forces would be; considering Polemarch Yeoh's avowed intent to set an ambush for the grimm, Pyrrha thought that the distance would be a little more than discreet.

As they moved forward, it became impossible for Pyrrha to deny that the Valish fire was slacking off, or to dismiss it as paranoia, fear, just her imagination: the guns were falling silent. Fewer shells were rising and falling, the thunderous sound was dying down — a little at least; the Atlesians were keeping up the volume, so sound was the most unreliable indicator at present.

Nevertheless, the other indicators did not look promising. It seemed that, though they had set off before the attack began, the Valish runner may have arrived … too late, as messengers so often did.

And then, before they had reached the Valish line, before they had even come in sight of it, the last gun fell silent, and there were no cannons firing on the Valish line whatsoever.

"They've stopped shooting," Penny said.

"Maybe … maybe they ran out of ammunition?" Jaune suggested.

"So soon?" Penny asked. "But that would be … that would be pretty incompetent, wouldn't it?" She paused. "Maybe they are incompetent. Rainbow Dash would say that they're incompetent, Rainbow would laugh at them for running out of ammunition, and Ciel would say something quiet that cut like a sword, and then Blake … Blake would be very quiet and not cutting at all, just quiet. Maybe it's like that. Maybe they're just bad at this … but holding the line all the same. Maybe we'll get there, and it's all fine apart from ammunition."

"Yes, Penny," Pyrrha agreed, without much conviction in her voice. "Maybe."

She had a hard time believing that as Penny said it, and it became harder and harder to believe it as they moved forward and encountered more and more of the remnants of the Valish defence streaming the other way: Valish soldiers casting their guns aside, Valish tanks with loud, growling engines that forced the huntsmen to scatter out of the way as they rushed heedlessly on, stopping for no one. Unless they were stopped, as happened to one tank that they saw drive into a tree and get stuck, the engine growing louder and more insistent as the crew tried to free it before finally giving up and bailing out.

"Excuse me," Penny called out to some of the fleeing soldiers, to the trucks and cars that drove on by, raising her hand towards them as she tried to hail them. "Excuse me? Could you … could you please wait just a moment?"

They didn't wait. They didn't stop. They just kept on running or driving, pushing through the Mistralian huntsmen in their zeal to get away.

And some grimm were even pursuing them. A nevermore swooped down out of the night sky, talons outstretched towards a tank that was swerving wildly — as wildly as the slow and heavy vehicle could, at any rate — to try and avoid it; a soldier was half out of the turret, firing a pistol at the nevermore. The grimm paid the fire no heed at all.

It did take heed when Penny opened up on it with Floating Array, beam after emerald beam lancing up through the darkness towards it. The nevermore shrieked and turned away, wings beating; it was briefly silhouetted as it passed across the moon, and then it disappeared.

The tank crew did not stop to thank Penny for their deliverance. They just kept on driving, nearly running over Reese who had to swerve her hoverboard out of the way to escape.

"Cicero," Violet said, "go back and tell Polemarch Yeoh that the Valish defence is all swept away."

"I will," Cicero said, and yet, he did not go straight away but paused for a moment. "Will you follow on my heels?"

Violet paused for a moment. "Not yet, I think," she said. "We will go forward, meet the grimm, then draw them back with us while giving Polemarch Yeoh time to set her ambush."

She looked around, as if daring someone to contradict her.

No one did.

Cicero nodded. "Very well. I'll come back as soon as I've brought word to the Polemarch."

He turned and disappeared back the way that they had come.

The rest of the huntsmen and huntresses pressed forwards.

The nevermore that Penny had chased off was not the only sight they saw of the grimm: a couple of griffons were chasing a group of fleeing Valish soldiers, but at the sight of so many Mistralian huntsmen and huntresses — and after a couple of arrows and javelins and gunshots had been hurled their way — they, like the nevermore before them, decided that discretion was the better part of valour and flew off back the way that they had come.

"Carrying word of our coming, no doubt," said Violet Valeria.

"Word to who?" Arslan demanded. "Do they understand one another's growls and shrieks?"

"Perhaps they do," replied Lily Cornelia. "And if they do, they'll have a tale to tell."

"Let them tell it," said Arslan. "Just because they know we're coming doesn't mean there'll be anything that they can do about it."

"Perhaps we should slow down or stop," said Violet. "Lily can scout ahead, concealed by her semblance."

"Stop?" Pyrrha exclaimed. "No, we must press on; we've still seen no sign of the huntsmen and huntresses from Beacon; they may still be fighting and in need."

Violet bit her lip. She was a little short in stature, standing somewhere between Ruby's height and Penny's, but with more muscle on her arms than either of them; she wore her brown hair in a pageboy cut, with violet highlights at the tips that matched her eyes. A bodysuit of flexible, utilitarian armour, trimmed with blue highlights, embraced her form, with a short skirt decorated with golden thunderbolts dropping to just beneath her thighs and a cloak of hair boarhide hanging from her shoulders. A necklace of boar's tusks hung from about her neck.

"I … I know that they're your friends and classmates, Lady Pyrrha—"

"It's not just that," Jaune said. "If the grimm are warned of our coming, then we should move as quickly as we can before they have time to react; if we delay, then we might see what preparations they're making, but it would be better to catch them before they've made their preparations, don't you think?"

Violet was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "Very well, let us press on."

And press on they did, until they started to encounter other huntsmen and huntresses, like the three remaining members of Team CFVY, retreating from the battle.

Unlike the soldiers, they did stop, looking a little less terrified than the Valish troops in green had been in their headlong flight.

"Nice to see you all," Coco said, sarcasm lacing her voice. "But you're too late; the Green Line has already fallen; the grimm will turn the Atlesians next, I'm sure. We're falling back to the Red Line; you'll do the same if you value your lives."

"We have a plan that requires us to go forward first," Pyrrha said. "But what about Team Iron, did you see them?"

"They were to our left," Velvet explained. "But we lost track of them. I think they were slower to get away than we were."

"What's this plan?" asked Coco. "The one that means you have to go forwards towards the grimm?"

"We're going to lure them into a trap," said Penny.

Coco took a deep breath. "Okay," she said. "Okay, I'd like to see that. What do you say, guys, have we got another fight in us?"

"Without a doubt," growled Fox.

Other Beacon students joined them as they advanced, having previously fallen back but still with the aura and the valour to turn around and face the grimm again now that the odds of success were better.

Now, though they couldn't hear the guns, they began to be able to hear the grimm, in all their snarls and roars. They still couldn't see them in the dark of the night, but if they could hear them, then they must be close.

"I see them!" Penny cried, pointing straight ahead. She gasped. "They're surrounded!"

The swords of Floating Array converged in a tight group around Penny's chest, the blades folding up into their carbine configuration as the tips glowed green.

"How far?" Pyrrha asked.

"Not that far," Penny said. "Close. A hundred yards, maybe two hundred."

"That isn't far," Arslan said. "We can do that in a run."

"On Penny's shot," Pyrrha said, "we move forward."

Nobody questioned her, which Pyrrha was grateful for in the immediate circumstances.

Penny fired, an immense laser beam blasting into the darkness, momentarily illuminating a roiling mass of grimm, an immense tide of darkness dotted with white bone masks.

"For the honour of Mistral!" shouted Violet, brandishing a javelin above her head. "For the pride of Haven!"

"For Mistral!" cried Lucius Andronicus, brandishing one of his flamethrowers before him, fire leaping from the tip.

With shouts and warcries, wordless and not, the huntsmen and huntresses charged, weapons at the ready. Pyrrha's hair and sash alike trailed behind her like the banners of an army as her long legs and swift stride bore her to the forefront, outpacing Jaune and Penny and even Arslan too. Moonlight glinted off her shield and her gilded armour as she charged.

She could see them now, just as Penny had said; they came into view as if emerging from out of a wall of darkness, although it was the different wall of darkness that concerned Pyrrha, the grimm that had them surrounded. Penny's shot had cut close by Team YRRN, and the grimm were taken by surprise — Jaune had been right then about the advantages of moving swiftly — and had not yet filled in the gap.

But the grimm were still surrounding Team YRRN on three sides, and partially on the fourth.

But not for long.

Pyrrha threw Miló in spear form as she closed the distance, skewering a beowolf in the chest as it turned to face her. The spear hurled the grimm back a few paces, but Pyrrha reached it before it had dissolved and plucked her spear from its decaying corpse. She spun on one heel, sash fluttering around her as she slashed with Miló all around her to wound the beowolves that pressed about. They recoiled, whimpering and howling; one of them recoiled straight into Nora's hammer which bludgeoned its face into ruin. Pyrrha threw Akoúo̱ at a beowolf behind her even as she skewered another in front, recovering her shield and twirling once again to use its edge to sever the head of another from its body.

An ursa sailed over Pyrrha's head as Nora punted it into the air with an uppercut to the jaw. Whether it was dead before it landed in the midst of the Haven students coming up or they killed it didn't seem to matter very much.

"Hey, Pyrrha," Nora said, even as she turned around to bring her hammer down on a skittering stormvermin, crushing it beneath the blow. "You got here just in time."

"Don't flatter her," Yang said as she punched out an ursa until it was dead on the ground. "We could have taken them."

"Well, I'm grateful," Nora said, rolling her eyes a little as she hit three beowolves with a single swing of her hammer.

Pyrrha idly stepped on a stormvermin's head, crushing its skull even as her attention was upon the alpha beowolf trying to restore order to the disorganised grimm. She charged towards it, throwing Akoúo̱ before her. The spinning shield hit the grimm square on the snout, flying back towards Pyrrha as the beowolf recoiled. Pyrrha leapt onto Akoúo̱ then kicked strongly off of it, gripping Miló in both hands as she flew through the air. She tucked her legs in, rolling as she passed over the alpha beowolf, falling down behind it like one of the Valish shells that they had seen lighting up the darkness from far off, falling as she had risen. Falling behind the alpha beowolf.

The beowolf looked up, and Pyrrha wrapped Miló around its neck and planted her feet squarely on its back. Her footing was a little tentative between the spurs of bone erupting out of the creature's back, and Pyrrha could feel the bone scraping against her skin where it met the patch of bare leg — larger on the inside — between her cuisses and her microskirt. Nevertheless, as precarious as her footing might be, she braced against it, hauling Miló backwards into the beowolf's neck. The alpha flailed its arms wildly, swaying this way and that, trying and failing to throw Pyrrha off. Pyrrha felt her feet slip once or twice, but she held on and kept on pulling. The alpha was distracted as the swords of Floating Array slashed at its chest from the front, trying to find a way through its armour. Other beowolves tried to leap up to get at Pyrrha, but Jaune made a running slide between the alpha beowolf's legs — very impressive — to cut the legs out from underneath one of them, while Ruby took out two more with a swing of Crescent Rose.

Pyrrha pulled back on Miló until the spearshaft went right through the alpha beowolf's neck, severing its head from its body. Pyrrha leapt backwards, backflipping again before she landed, idly driving her spear into an ursa's chest.

"Showoff," Yang muttered.

"Do you think there are enough of us now to retake the Green Line?" Ruby asked as she brought her scythe down on a creep.

"No," Jaune said, getting to his feet. "We're going to retreat and lure the grimm into an ambush that Polemarch Yeoh is setting up behind us."

A beowolf hurled itself upon him. Jaune brought up his shield to defend himself, holding the grimm at bay as its claws tried to reach him around the shield, before he drove Crocea Mors into its shoulder and unleashed a blast of lightning dust down the blade. The grimm twitched and writhed, guttural sounds tumbling out of its mouth before it fell over dead.

"I really hope they didn't understand what I just said," Jaune added.

"Okay," Ruby murmured. "If that's the plan, then—"

Bolin cried out wordlessly as he was flung backwards through the air, tossed by a powerful blow from the trunk of a goliath that was storming forwards through the ranks of the grimm. Beowolves, creeps, and stormvermin either fell back before its passage or were trampled aside by the immense creature which advanced, heedless of whoever might stand in its way.

Reese Chloris tried to circle around it, firing both her pistols, green bolts of energy lancing up to strike the goliath's armoured head.

The goliath turned a baleful gaze on Reese as its trunk snapped out and wrapped around the huntress' waist. It was Reese's turn to cry out as the goliath hoisted her up into the air, enduring the continued fire from Reese's pistols as it lifted her over its head.

The goliath trumpeted triumphantly as it slammed Reese down into the ground in front of it. It continued to stride forward majestically as it lifted Reese up and drove her back down into the ground once more.

Reese's pistols dropped from her hands.

Arslan threw herself onto the ground directly athwart the goliath's path. The goliath advanced, raising one foot to bring it down upon her.

Arslan raised her Nemean Claw and drove it straight into the bottom of the goliath's foot as it descended.

The goliath roared in pain, rearing up on its hind legs, dropping Reese as its trunk twisted and waved in the air in pain.

Arslan was on her feet in a moment, catching Reese before she hit the ground, carrying her backwards out of the path of the goliath whose eyes seemed to be blazing an even brighter red now than they had been before.

It landed on all fours with an earth-shaking thud, and its trumpet was a low warning sound as it advanced once more, enduring bullets and arrows and blasts of dust as though they had been spit and flecks of dirt. Lucius Andronicus hit it with two blasts of flame from both his flamethrowers, but the grimm strode through the fire seemingly unharmed by it. Cicero Ward used his semblance on it, a booming shout blasting out of his mouth, but the goliath seemed barely fazed by it.

"Jaune," Pyrrha said. "Give me a boost, and then let me lift you."

Jaune didn't look as if he quite understood the necessity of the second part, but he comprehended the first part of Pyrrha's request quite well enough. He lifted his shield up like a platform — a beowolf tried to rush him, but Ren dived in front and took it out with a few well-placed slashes from the blades on the ends of his Stormflowers — to support Pyrrha as she jumped onto it.

She felt Jaune's semblance spreading up her legs, washing away the lingering feeling of the beowolf's bone upon her skin.

She leapt, a powerful jump far greater than she could have achieved on her own, carrying her higher into the air than when she had just leapt over the alpha beowolf, a leap that carried her over the heads of beowolves and ursai and onto the back of the rampaging goliath.

Goliaths didn't develop a lot of bone, even as they grew older; Professor Port said that the very oldest goliaths did grow armour plate upon their flanks, and some grew links of bone-like chain which drooped down towards the ground to protect their legs, but until they reached that greatly advanced age, their bodies remained black and oily and without spurs or spikes emerging out their backs or anywhere else. Only their heads were armoured, and that was quite bad enough.

That meant that Pyrrha didn't have to worry about anything protruding out of the goliath's back to obstruct her, but it also meant her footing was somewhat insecure, the goliath's back uneven and slippery. Pyrrha drove Miló down into the Goliath's back like a climber driving a pick into the rocky surface of a mountain, clinging onto her spear with one as the goliath thrashed from side to side. Pyrrha lost her footing and would have fallen otherwise, but she clung onto Miló, and her spear was driven deep enough to bear her weight.

The goliath reached for her with its trunk, fumbling blindly for her over its head, but Penny drove the swords of Floating Array into the black flesh of the trunk, stabbing at it over and over again.

"Come on, Pyrrha!" she cried.

Pyrrha recovered her footing and held onto Miló yet with one hand even as she reached out for Jaune with the other. Her free hand glowed black as she picked up Jaune by his armour and lifted him up through the air to join her on the back of the goliath.

She wrapped her arm around his waist, holding onto him with grip and Polarity both as she held onto Miló.

"It's weakest at the nape of the neck," she explained.

Jaune understood. Leaning back a little, leaning into Pyrrha, his body resting against her arm and shoulder, he lifted Crocea Mors up above his head and then lanced it downwards like a thunderbolt into the goliath's neck just behind its armoured skull.

He unleashed all the lightning dust that he had stored in the sword's pommel, yellow lightning piercing into the goliath, rippling up and down its black body — snapping at Pyrrha and Jaune a little too; she could feel it nipping at her aura — as it trumpeted in pain.

Jaune used all the lightning dust; he didn't stop until the phial was empty, the yellow glow completely extinguished.

The goliath stood still, silent. Then, like a crumbling old building, it began to topple over sideways.

Pyrrha jumped away, carrying Jaune with her, landing a trifle heavily upon her feet before she set him down.

Penny's swords sliced through a quartet of beowolves behind them.

The huntsmen had done well, not only breaking through to relieve Team YRRN but inflicting losses upon the grimm who had been startled by the sudden attack when they must have thought their enemy beaten and in retreat. But now, as the goliath's attack had just demonstrated, the grimm were beginning to reorganise, the advantage of surprise fading away, and no doubt, they would be faced with more goliaths soon if they stayed here.

Jaune discarded the empty phial of lightning dust, slamming a phial of light blue ice dust into the pommel of his sword and sweeping it before him, conjuring a wall of ice between the huntsmen and the grimm as they began to retreat back the way they had come.

Unfortunately, with the amount of ice that he had and the number of grimm arrayed against them, it seemed to take no time at all for the grimm to smash through the barrier and commence their pursuit.

"They'll try and encircle us," Yang warned.

And so it proved, the grimm constantly trying to get around the Haven and Beacon students, to get behind them and cut them off; they never quite managed it, but it was touch and go, the formation of the huntsmen — such as it was, they remained rather amorphous in their grouping — shifting like water to fend off attacks from one flank, then another, then the front, then from both flanks at once. The grimm died in great numbers, pierced by sword and spear, burned by fire, shot; but there were always more grimm, and often, there seemed to be larger and stronger grimm than those that died, while the swords grew heavy in the arms of the huntsmen, and their supply of ammunition and dust began to run low. Reese's aura had been broken by the goliath; she had been fortunate indeed to escape injury, but Bolin — whose aura was not in great state itself — had to carry her, or she would have fallen behind. Lily Cornelia of Team VLCA had to be helped along by Cicero Ward after a beowolf's claws broke through her aura and raked across her back. As injuries and aura breakings mounted, Pyrrha found herself hoping that they would reach the sight of Polemarch Yeoh's ambush soon.

Until they did, all they could do was keep on retreating, as large grimm began to press through the ranks of the horde once more, like the towering cyclops that was advancing through the smaller grimm, arms like ancient oak trees swinging from side to side, its long, sharp teeth seeming to grin as it bore down on them. At the pace at which they were retreating, it would surely catch up to them soon.

Their retreat was now taking them past some of the detritus of the Valish rout that they had encountered on their way forwards, such as the tank that had driven into a tree and been abandoned by its crew.

"Pyrrha!" Penny cried. "Can you throw that tank at the cyclops?"

"I think so," Pyrrha replied, slinging Akoúo̱ across her back and reaching out for the tank with one hand. The black outline of Polarity covered her hand and the abandoned tank alike. It was a heavy thing, very heavy indeed, and Pyrrha had to concentrate. The weight of the tank resisted, to say nothing of the fact that its original crew had jammed it in place; she was contending against both those facts. Pyrrha gritted her teeth with the effort and fought against the urge to grunt as she pulled upon the tank.

It came free, shattering the tree in the process unfortunately, but Pyrrha had no time to dwell on that as she swung the abandoned tank through the air and hurled it straight for the cyclops' face.

The cyclops tried to catch it, raising one meaty hand to grasp the tank, but Pyrrha lifted it up over the waiting hand and down towards the cyclops' single eye.

Penny fired a single laser from one of her carbines. The green bolt shot upwards, striking the tank in the side, piercing its armour.

The tank exploded in an immense ball of fire that consumed the head of the cyclops, a fireball that burned bright even as smaller explosions rattled within the flames, flaming debris falling down to land on the ground below.

The headless cyclops crashed to the ground, crushing numerous smaller grimm beneath it.

"I was right about where the magazine was," Penny said.

"Great job, Penny!" cried Ruby. She paused for a moment. "And you, Pyrrha."

Pyrrha didn't answer. There was no time to answer, no time to do anything except keep on retreating, falling back, always back in the face of the numbers of the grimm that pursued them. And pursue them they did, pursue them eagerly, hungry roars rising from their throats as they pressed hard upon the huntsmen before them.

They had reached a little hamlet, empty by the looks of it, a cluster of buildings spread out across the flat terrain, with barns and walled farmhouses — none of them lit up, none of them showing any signs of occupancy — spread out across the barren fields, while sunken lanes and deep drainage ditches criss-crossed the land. There was no sign of Polemarch Yeoh and her Mistralian forces.

But the battleship Dingyuan hung in the sky. The lights of the great ship shone, but that was the only sign of life as they approached the empty, deserted-seeming hamlet.

The buildings were empty, and the battleship was silent; it hung in the night sky, its light shone, but its guns did not fire and seemed oblivious to what was going on beneath it, as though they were ants to an oblivious god.

Some of the huntsmen reached the crossroads, Bolin carrying Reese between the dark and silent buildings, Cicero helping Lily along.

The grimm pressed hard upon their heels, snapping and snarling.

The Dingyuan began to slowly turn, presenting its broadside towards the onrushing grimm.

Fire rang out from out of the darkness, rifles cracking in the dark, the brief lights of muzzle flashes lighting up the darkness as fire from both sides slammed into the grimm. Beowolves fell, and even ursai too, trembling as they were hit again and again before they finally dropped. The grimm advance faltered, the grimm turning this way and that as the bullets continued to fly.

The smaller grimm faltered, at least, and now would have been the perfect moment to round on them in a counterattack if the larger grimm, smug in their invulnerability to small arms fire, had not continued to advance, striding through their disordered smaller cousins.

One side of the Dingyuan was consumed in flame as its guns opened up, a deafening roar echoing through the land just as the flash of the guns illuminated the darkness.

The shells struck home, exploding in a second wall of fire that consumed goliath and cyclopes and the smaller grimm unfortunate enough to be caught between them.

Polemarch Yeoh, it seems events have proven you correct about everything, Pyrrha thought.

I can only hope you are correct also that General Ironwood will retrieve the situation on his flank.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Great Minds

​

"Colonel Harper," Ironwood said. "How's it going down there?"

It seemed, apart from anything else, to be going very loudly down there; Ironwood could hear explosions and gunfire, plenty of both, along with some quieter and harder to make out sounds that were probably coming from the grimm. It sounded as though the battle was in full swing.

"They're pressing us hard, sir," Harper replied. "And I have to admit that they've been smarter than I was expecting them to be, took out my minefields. All the same, I think I can hold them from the front. The problem is that the Valish have completely caved in on our right flank; they broke, sir, took to their heels. The grimm have overrun that sector of the Green Line."

Fitzjames cursed. Ironwood didn't do the same because he was the commanding officer and forced to maintain a certain level of composure even in the face of difficult situations. "Are the grimm trying to flank you?"

"A few tentative moves, nothing major yet," Harper said. "The Beacon huntsmen students have made a fighting retreat, and that's kept the grimm preoccupied, at least as far as my observers can make out. But it has to be only a matter of time before they realise what they could get from rounding on us."

Ironwood was inclined to agree with that assessment. Harper was the officer on the spot, and so her words should be considered very carefully in any event, but they also made logical sense; the grimm who had driven the Valish off the field might be preoccupied with the resistance they still faced for the moment, but at some point, either once they eliminated that resistance — that was a very cold way to think about Ozpin's students, but the circumstances made it impossible to ignore — or the resistance hardened up, they would start to consider other approaches, like a way around the Atlesian flank to support the other half of their assault that wasn't progressing so well. It would be naïve to pretend that it wasn't going to happen just because it hadn't happened yet.

"What about the Mistralians?" Ironwood asked.

"Haven't seen them, sir," Harper replied.

Ironwood fought very hard to maintain his composure. "Understood," he growled.

He thought. He could order a withdrawal now, but with the grimm still attacking to the front, that would be a difficult operation for the two battalions to execute; an evacuation by air, with the grimm snapping at their heels onto the Skyrays, might get the infantry and the students away, but it would mean abandoning the spiders and the Paladins, which wasn't desirable. A retreat across country towards the Red Line, again with the grimm snapping at their heels, might preserve the artillery and the Paladins, but it would forfeit the defensive positions the Atlesians had spent months preparing and trade them in for a fight on open country. That wasn't very desirable either.

"Continue to focus on the grimm in front of you," he ordered Harper. "I'll drop the Third Battalion in to secure your flank."

That had its risks, not least of which was the fact that the Third Battalion would not be occupying prepared positions but would have to face the fury of the grimm in the open field, but it was the best option for difficult circumstances.

"Understood, sir; I'll deploy some of the students to support them," Harper said.

"If you can spare them, Colonel," Ironwood replied. "Good luck down there, Ironwood out." He paused for a moment. "Des Voeux, try and get me Polemarch Yeoh on the line?"

"Aye aye, sir," des Voeux replied, bending over his controls. Seconds passed. Seconds climbed into double figures while des Voeux tried to get a response from the Mistralian commander. Eventually, the comms officer looked apologetically up at Ironwood. "No response, sir."

Ironwood drew in a sharp intake of breath. "Cunningham, what's the status of the Dingyuan?"

There was a momentary pause before Lieutenant Cunningham replied. "It's engaging the enemy, sir."

"On screen," Ironwood instructed.

There was another pause, before a viewscreen flashed up in front of the bridge crew, displaying the Mistralian battleship that remained in Mistralian hands poured fire down onto the ground.

"I want a drone out there to see what they're shooting at," Ironwood ordered.

"Aye aye, sir, dispatching drone now," Fitzjames said.

Ironwood kept his eyes on the viewscreen. As he watched, the fire of the battleship down to the ground began to lessen as increasing numbers of flying grimm came into view, forcing the Dingyuan to target them instead. Shells that had plunged down to the ground now burst into the air around the battleship as the armoured, bulky airship became hard to see for all the black feathers swirling around it.

Were they firing in support of someone? Did the Valish troops rally?

He would find out once the drone got into position, but until it did so, there was little to be gained from speculation. He needed to get Third Battalion into position. Third Squadron was one of the two he had brought with him from Atlas at the start of the last semester, but he had recently pulled them out of the line to form his reserve; their ships had already helped to protect the Amity Arena, and it was unfortunate that they were going to be a cruiser down, the Resolution being in no state to get into another fight with the grimm, but the rest of the Squadron was still in fighting shape.

They'd better be, considering the circumstances.

"Des Voeux," Ironwood said. "Inform Colonel Palmer that he's to execute Plan Quickstep immediately." Palmer, of the Third Squadron, had already been briefed on numerous plans based on possible contingencies for the battle to come. In this instance, they were all named after dances — Waltz, Quickstep, Foxtrot, Tango — because they had unique names that couldn't be misheard for something else. Quickstep was the plan which assumed a Valish collapse and the grimm overrunning that part of the Green Line before it could be occupied by someone else. Ironwood had chosen it because, of all the plans, it might require the Third to move quickest.

"Aye aye, sir."

"And get me Colonel Sky Beak at Valish headquarters," Ironwood added. Yes, the forces that had been holding the Green Line had broken, but there might still be some way that the Valish Defence Force could support them.

"Yes, sir."

"Sir," Fitzjames said. "The drone is in position now."

"Put it on," Ironwood ordered.

The image on the viewscreen of the Dingyuan was replaced by an aerial shot of the ground below, where a large number of students, recognisable as distinct from the soldiers by their unique and colourful outfits, were engaging an even larger number of grimm. Someone was firing on the grimm from the flanks, it seemed; the drone wasn't showing who was doing the shooting, but grimm were dying, and they weren't being visibly engaged by any of the students; and it was all happening too often to be the work of one student with a rare semblance.

The students included Ozpin's proteges, he was sure; even from the drone footage, Ironwood was sure that he could spot Miss Rose and Miss Nikos; they both had quite distinct appearances. He couldn't see Penny so easily, but if Miss Rose and Miss Nikos were there, then Penny would surely be there too.

They were heavily outnumbered; the grimm seemed to be focussing their attention upon the huntsmen and huntresses, choosing to endure the fire they were receiving from other quarters. Could the students hold out, especially now that their fire support from the battleship had been cut off?

Ozpin's students were taught to fight without that kind of assistance, but against those kinds of numbers? In the circumstances, they would be well advised to fall back. He was guessing that they didn't because they'd arranged to make a stand here where someone, their unseen assistance, possibly Polemarch Yeoh's Mistralians or maybe the Valish having feigned their flight from the Green Line, would give them supporting fire.

That was all very well, but to Ironwood's eyes, it didn't look as though the supporting fire was heavy enough to counterattack the grimm's numerical advantage. If things kept up, then, though the grimm would no doubt take heavy casualties, the students would be worn down, exhausted, their aura spent, until they succumbed to the grimm tide.

A Mistralian short sword, of a type called a tanto, clattered to the floor.

"Trust me, sir, you … you don't wanna see what they … you don't want to see that." Dash trembled where she stood. "I'm sorry, sir, I … I wasn't fast enough."

There was nothing he could do to help them. He needed all his forces to hold his current position; he had no aid to spare for them. He would have to hope that the Valish did.

"Colonel Sky Beak, sir," des Voeux said.

"Put him through," Ironwood ordered. "Colonel Sky Beak, are you aware of the situation at the Green Line?"

Sky Beak sighed. "I'd hoped that the reports of soldiers of the Patch Light Infantry and the Lifeguards turning up at the gates to the Red Line proclaiming that the Green Line was lost were exaggerated. Is this where you tell me it's all true, General?"

"I'm afraid your soldiers have abandoned their posts, and the grimm are beyond the Green Line," Ironwood said, with sincere regret in his voice. He didn't envy Colonel Sky Beak one bit; the man had well and truly been thrown in at the deep end on this one; he couldn't imagine a worse time to be suddenly thrust into command.

"Damn," Sky Beak growled. "My soldiers?" he said. "But not yours?"

"My forces are still holding their part of the Green Line," Ironwood replied, in a neutral tone.

"Far be it from me to tell you what to do, but shouldn't you pull them back before they get flanked?"

"I'm hopeful that we can secure our flank and maintain the position a little longer," Ironwood said. "Just as I'm hopeful that you have some additional forces that you can commit to the fighting beyond the Red Line?"

There was a pause. "You want me to try and retake the Green Line?"

"No," Ironwood said. "But there are Beacon and Haven students still fighting in the area between the Green and Red Lines, and I think that the Mistralians may be there too. They could use some support, Colonel."

"No doubt they could," Sky Beak said. "But that doesn't mean that I have the support to give them. General, the Valish Defence Force was ordered to treat you as the enemy earlier tonight; now, they've been told that all the orders they received from their commanding officer was the result of brain fever amongst the senior command staff, and every unit is reporting a sudden epidemic of mental health issues. Soldiers are filling the sickbays up, reporting dissociative episodes, fugue states, hearing voices. It seems like General Blackthorn and his staff weren't the only ones suffering from mass delirium. I'm having to scrape together ad-hoc battle groups out of whatever troops and officers can be found fit for duty because I don't have a single battalion or company that isn't being shredded by these issues. I understand that it's an emergency, but I can't give rifles to men and women who'd be dangers to themselves and their comrades, and I barely have enough troops to man the Red Line, let alone venture beyond it."

"You won't need to hold the Red Line, or even defend it, so long as we keep the fighting beyond it," Ironwood pointed out. "Colonel, those students are fighting hard out there, but without assistance, they will be overrun."

"Then you'll need to find that support, General; I don't have any to spare," Sky Beak said. "I'm sorry. If the Council were to authorise it, that would be one thing, but the Council cannot convene in the absence of the First Councillor, and, well … I don't have the authority to compromise the integrity of Vale's defences to succour some students. Unless you can help them, they'll have to take their chances."

"They're your students," Ironwood pointed out. "Not mine."

Sky Beak was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry," he said. "I really do recommend an immediate withdrawal, but if you think you can hold, then best of luck to you and your forces. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm getting constant updates on readiness from individual commanding officers. Sky Beak out."

Ironwood stood stock still, eyes pointed directly ahead without, for the moment, seeing anything.

So much for that.

The Mistralian blade clattered to the floor.

Holding the Atlesians' present positions was likely to be challenging enough without stretching the lines thin to accommodate a rescue effort for the Beacon and Haven students — and perhaps the Mistralian forces as well. He simply didn't have the numbers for it.

Unless … maybe there was something he could do to help them that didn't require a significant investment of force.

"Des Voeux," Ironwood said. "Get me Rainbow Dash."

XxXxX​

"The Valish are breaking!"

Rainbow's head snapped around, temporarily torn away from the advancing goliath by the sound of Starlight's cry.

The Valish were breaking? The Valish were breaking already? But how could the Valish be breaking already, the battle had hardly even started yet? The grimm hadn't even … okay, maybe they were moving faster against the Valish than they were against the Atlesians, since the Atlesian preparations had slowed them down, but even so, it couldn't be that big of a difference, could it?

They were breaking already, seriously?

If you were going to run away so fast, why bother to show up at all?

And much more importantly, what was going to happen now that their flank was in the air? Yes, Colonel Harper had deployed the Military Huntsman company to hold the flank, but even so, they weren't holding a long line; the grimm could lap them now without anyone standing in their way, and if they did that, then the whole line would unravel.

A trumpeting roar from the goliath reminded Rainbow Dash that the line wouldn't need to unravel under attack from the flank if it was first battered down by the grimm already attacking it from the front.

"Eyes front!" Colonel Harper cried. "Your flank is secure, don't worry about that, worry about these bastards in front of you! Bring that goliath down, bring it down!"

The goliath was the focus of fire even before Colonel Harper's exhortation. Rifles crackled, machine guns and light support weapons blazed, tracer rounds seemed as bright as Penny's laser beams, rockets flew like shooting stars from the launchers to slam into the goliath's side.

None of it brought down the enormous elephant-looking grimm. It soaked up bullets, endured rockets bursting on its black hide, trampled down the barbed wire, and even stepped on the caltrops without slowing down.

"Ciel!" Rainbow called. "Hit that thing!"

Ciel shoved a new magazine, practically the size of one of Rainbow's machine pistols, into Distant Thunder. She worked the bolt, chambering a round.

Her expression was stiff and cold as she raised the rifle to her shoulder, turning the long barrel so that it was pointed at the goliath.

"Lady, guide my eye," Ciel murmured.

Distant Thunder roared, the barrel flashing. The shot struck the goliath in the side, in its soft unarmoured flesh.

The grimm shuddered but did not fall.

The sound of its steps were as loud as the report of Distant Thunder as it strode forwards.

Ciel worked the bolt again, discharging her spent cartridge with a thud upon the ground and chambering a new round.

She adjusted her aim, teeth visibly gritted as she bared them in a grimace.

She fired again, this time hitting the goliath on the head; the shot glanced off the bone skull.

"I've got an idea," Blake said. "But I need your help. With your semblance, I think we can wrap my ribbon around its legs and trip it up. And then … I'm not sure, but I hope it'll be easier to kill once it's on the ground."

Rainbow nodded. "That … I don't think anyone has a better idea, so okay, let's do it. Ciel, Starlight, can you give us some covering fire?"

"You got it, Dash," Starlight said.

Ciel nodded silently.

"Thanks," Rainbow said. To Blake, she said, "Right, how do you want to do this?"

Blake answered with action, not words, by leaping down off the earth rampart to the obstacle strewn ground below.

Rainbow followed, jumping down, firing with both pistols at the smaller grimm that had begun to cross the ditches in the wake of the larger ones. If the goliaths or the cyclopes breached the wall or rampart, then the little ones would all try and swarm through, but if Blake and Rainbow could bring the goliath down, then they would be nothing more than target practice for the soldiers above.

Provided that they could bring this goliath down.

Blake landed nimbly on the ground and immediately started to run for the goliath. She leapt over a patch of barbed wire, slashing with sword and cleaver alike at a beowolf that leapt for her, cutting it in half.

Blue bolts from Starlight's Equaliser flew past her, slamming into other nearby grimm.

As Blake charged, the goliath became aware of her. It bellowed angrily as it swung its trunk in her direction. Blake left a clone behind to take the hit as she ran on, diving beneath an ursa's swiping paw a moment before a shot from Distant Thunder blew the ursa's head off.

Blake used another clone to avoid another swipe of the goliath's trunk, Gambol Shroud transforming in her hand from sword to hook as she reached the goliath's thick trunk leg.

Blake buried her cleaver in the leg, cutting as deeply as she could, her pale hand almost buried in the black grimm, before she turned and threw the hook towards Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow shoved Brutal Honesty into its holster and caught the hook one handed.

Then she began to run, a rainbow trailing after her as she ran around the goliath, and as she ran, she pulled Blake's long black ribbon, the other half still held in her hand, after her.

She ran around the goliath in a rainbow burst, circling the grimm, pulling the ribbon around its legs, sliding under Blake's outstretched hands as she tied the ribbon around her cleaver. Rainbow ran around and around until there was no more ribbon left to run, and she thrust the hook into another of the goliath's legs.

All of the goliath's legs were now wrapped in black ribbon. Blake had tied off the ribbon, but she had her hands on it, and Rainbow did too, both of them channelling their aura into it so the goliath couldn't just snap it with its immense strength.

That didn't stop it from trying. The goliath strained, it pulled, it tried to move its legs and keep on striding towards the Atlesisn rampart, but all it succeeded in doing was tripping over its own tied up legs, stumbling and toppling sideways, nearly landing on Blake who had to let go of the ribbon — Rainbow held onto it — and roll aside before the goliath landed on its side with an earth-shaking thud.

The goliath writhed and raged, trumpeting furiously, waving its trunk, shaking its head. Its red eyes burned with rage.

Ciel fired again, Distant Thunder roaring. This time, she hit it in the nape of the neck, just behind the armoured skull.

The goliath shuddered, its head dropping before it began to turn to ashes.

The Atlesian troops up on the rampart cheered.

"Bravo, bravo!" Rarity cried.

Grimm howled in anger, and Rainbow drew Brutal Honesty again to let them have it with both pistols as Blake recovered Gambol Shroud.

"You ready, Blake?" Rainbow called out.

Blake switched Gambol Shroud back into its sword mode. "Ready!"

Rainbow unfurled the Wings of Harmony, spreading out on either side of her as she sheathed her machine pistols. She kicked a stormvermin who got too close, then wrapped one arm around Blake's waist before she kicked off the ground, carrying them back up off the ground and onto the rampart.

The Atlesian troops were still cheering.

"Bravo, both of you!" Rarity declared. "That was magnificent!"

"I think," Colonel Harper said from behind them, "that it may be fairly said that the two of you have distinguished yourselves here."

Rainbow turned around. "Just doing our part, ma'am."

Colonel Harper nodded. "Keep up the good work," she said. She raised her voice to add, "But don't get cocky now; there are a lot more where that came from."

Indeed, scarcely sooner had Rainbow and Blake regained the rampart then they saw more goliaths bearing down upon the Atlesian defences, and these goliaths were not alone. These grimm were learning quickly; they weren't just advancing on the defences and letting the beowolves and the ursai dog their heels while they waited for a gap to open up in the defences, no. No, as the goliaths strode forwards, the beowolves leapt up at and onto them, claws digging into the black flesh of the larger grimm as though the two kinds had suddenly become enemies and the beowolves wanted to bring the goliaths down themselves and tear them to pieces, never mind waiting for the Atlesians to do it for them. But the goliaths didn't fight back, they didn't reach around with their trunks to pull the beowolves away, they didn't try and shake them off, they bore their attacks without response, because it soon became clear that they weren't even attacks at all. The beowolves were scaling the sides of the goliaths, mounting them, clambering up onto their backs where they secured themselves with the claws of their hind paws and clung on, waving their forelegs as the goliaths carried them towards the Atlesian line like black, monstrous subway trains.

Next stop on the Battle Line: Atlesian Rampart.

Some of the beowolves died on the way, shot down off the backs of the goliaths by the Atlesian troops; at least one goliath that Rainbow saw had all its beowolf passengers swept away, picked clean by the fire that raked across the creature's back; even Colonel Harper was firing, her pistol cracking with a sharp report. But though the beowolves might die, the goliaths, mostly, lived. The enormous grimm could even stand up to the shots from the main guns of a Paladin; it took a direct hit from the lasers of a spider droid — that had to be equipped with lasers in the first place, obviously — to penetrate a goliath's thick skull from the front and burn through its body; that, or a hit from above from one of their supporting cruisers. But the supporting fire from the air was starting to slacken off, just a little bit.

It wasn't gone, not by any means — the bombers were still out there, Sky Bolts strafing the grimm horde with their Tempest cannons, doing their best to thin the grimm ranks as they stormed up towards the front line — but the flying grimm were hurling themselves against the cruisers; when Rainbow looked up, it seemed like they were ignoring the fighters, not caring how many nevermores or griffons died in the process so long as they could swarm the cruisers. At times, the Atlesian warships were almost hidden from view from the ground because of all the black wings swirling around them; she could mostly tell where the cruisers were because of the fire from the point defence systems. The cruisers could hold their own, Rainbow was sure, but it just meant that laser fire lancing down to the ground to burn away the grimm, volleys of missiles, bombs, they were becoming a rarer sight than they had been when the battle had started, and the Atlesians were more reliant on their ground artillery, their spiders and their mortars, than they had been when the battle began.

The artillery was firing long, or at least they weren't dropping many shells or rockets beyond the ditches that Colonel Harper's troops had dug; Rainbow could understand why: even with robots and computers doing the aiming, there was always a risk, and nobody wanted to die because a spider droid had dropped a shell on the Atlesians' own position, but it meant that if the goliaths — or the cyclopes, who were also serving in the siege tower role with beowolves climbing up their legs and backs; the cyclopes were easier to shoot down than the goliaths, but while they lived, the grimm they carried were more protected from fire — could just get past the ditches and stride over the grimm who had filled them up, then there wasn't much more that could touch them on their way to the rampart.

And while the grimm they carried were not so invulnerable there were always more of them, more beowolves to scramble up the sides of the goliaths, more beowolves to be carried through the barbed wire and the obstacles towards the Atlesian line.

More beowolves to leap off the backs of the goliaths and onto the rampart, landing between startled Atlesian soldiers or landing on them, bearing them off the rampart and down to the ground below.

Rainbow ran to where the closest group of beowolves had landed, a rainbow streaking after her as she sprinted across the outer edge of the earth barrier, firing her machine pistols at the last couple of beowolves still waiting on the back of the goliath — she hit one; the other jumped — before holstering them both and pulling Undying Loyalty over her shoulder.

The closest beowolf was standing over an Atlesian soldier, teeth bared, claws drawn back. Rainbow hit it in a flying kick that went right through its chest before she landed in the middle of grimm and soldiers alike. She shot a beowolf, pumped another round into her shotgun and fired again before another beowolf lunged towards her. Rainbow reversed Undying Loyalty and hit the grimm on the jaw with the butt of the weapon; the beowolf recoiled, and Rainbow hit it again, and a third time before its bone mask broke and it began to dissolve.

A cry of alarm made Rainbow turn around to see a soldier have their chest raked by the claws of a beowolf, scoring their armour, though drawing no blood — yet. The soldier fell back, stumbling, landing on the edge of the rampart.

Rainbow reversed her shotgun again and shot the beowolf in the back. The grimm lurched forwards, falling over dead on the soldier it had been about to make its prey.

The Atlesian soldier made a moaning sound of fear and disgust as it tried to push the decaying — but not decaying fast enough — beowolf off of him.

Rainbow reached down with one hand and pulled the remains of the creature off, throwing it down off the rampart behind.

"Hey!"

Rainbow looked over the rampart to see Neon down there, trailing rainbows of her own as she despatched the beowolves who had jumped clean over the rampart to land behind it.

"Sorry," Rainbow called down to her.

She was about to offer a hand to help the soldier up when she felt something snag her from behind, something tightly wrapped around her waist: the trunk of the goliath. It picked her up and lifted her clean off the rampart, red eyes burning as it squeezed.

Rainbow winced at the tightening around her waist, her aura flaring as it absorbed the squeezing sensation and let Rainbow Dash know it. She fired Undying Loyalty downwards at the goliath, but it did nothing to the big grimm; it didn't even seem to annoy it enough to smash Rainbow into the ground or throw her somewhere, much less let her go. Those red eyes kept on glaring up at Rainbow as the goliath's black trunk squeezed her and squeezed her, crushing Rainbow's aura beneath its grip.

Blake stood on the edge of the earth rampart and slashed with Gambol Shroud at the empty air. Her aura burst from the blade in a purple shockwave that sliced horizontally through the air and into the goliath's trunk.

Rainbow didn't know exactly how much aura Blake had put into that attack, but it was enough to sever the trunk completely from the goliath's head. The goliath screamed in pain, staggering backwards a few earth-shaking steps. Rainbow fell downwards, the severed trunk dissolving around her; it was all ashes by the time she landed on her back with a thud.

Blake offered a hand to help her up.

Rainbow took it. "Thanks."

"No problem," Blake said. "How's—?"

She was interrupted by a bellow of rage from the injured goliath as it stormed forwards, not waiting for any more beowolves to climb up on top of it, just moving as fast as it could to slam its bony white tusks into the earth rampart. A soldier squawked in alarm as he was knocked off the parapet — thankfully, it wasn't a particularly high drop, but it would still hurt — while others were luckier but were still thrown off balance. Rainbow and Blake were both knocked sideways, shuddering and scrambling for footing as the earth moved beneath them.

The goliath didn't breach the rampart in a single hit, but it did jar the whole section of the barrier, shifting the earth backwards like a little U from the rest of the line. Dirt fell away to the front of the barrier in clods and clumps as the goliath retreated for another run-up.

One of Rarity's blue diamond barriers appeared between the goliath and the damaged section of the rampart.

"I'm not sure how long I can hold something of this size, darlings, so please feel free to kill that brute quickly," Rarity said, grimacing a little as she spoke.

The goliath rammed Rarity's diamond, and cracks began to spread all along the sapphire blue surface.

"Any time," Rarity said.

Rainbow was about to suggest to Blake that they trip this one up too, but Starlight was already ahead of them. She leapt off the rampart, Equaliser turning from gun to polearm in her hands as she flew through the air towards the goliath. She didn't quite make it, but she came close enough to ram Equaliser's blade into the goliath's flank, hanging from the metallic pole like a gymnast. The goliath seemed to like that less than it had the claws of the beowolves digging into its side; it trumpeted angrily, shaking itself, trying to reach with the trunk that it no longer had; beowolves started to climb up its legs to get at Starlight.

Starlight's expression was unfazed; she looked utterly focussed as she swung on the pole, swinging a full one-eighty until she was perched on the pole by her hands, then pushing herself up off of the pole — pulling it out of the goliath's flesh as she went — and spinning in the air to land sitting down on the goliath's back, legs spread apart on either side of its oily black form.

As the beowolves climbed up the massive grimm, Starlight slammed Equaliser into the vulnerable spot behind the goliath's skull.

The goliath's head jerked upwards as it let out one last scream of pain and anger before it began to fall sideways. Starlight suddenly found that sitting was not the best posture to get away from the dying grimm, but she managed to tumble off and onto one of Rarity's waiting diamonds, one of a trio of well-placed platforms which dissolved as soon as Starlight had leapt from one to the other and then back to the rampart.

The goliath fell to the ground, crushing beowolves beneath it. Its ashes started to drift lazily away.

Rainbow whooped as the Atlesian troops cheered for Starlight as they had cheered for Rainbow not long before.

Their cheers were cut off by the sound of an explosion above. Rainbow's head jerked upwards to see one of their cruisers exploding in a great ball of fire, fire that consumed the grimm around, fire that shot burning debris like shooting stars across the sky. Fighters and bombers twisted in the air to avoid the wreckage; the nearest other cruiser slid sideways away from the explosion; the Atlesian troops and huntsmen dropped to their knees or bellies as the remains of a once proud and mighty ship descended on them.

Debris landed on either side of the line of defence. A piece of metal sheared a goliath's head clean off as it sliced through grimm flesh as easily as it cut through air; another piece shaped like a jagged knife pierced the armour of a Paladin, driving into the mech's chest as the walker toppled over onto its back. Men cried out in fear or pain, just as grimm did.

"Medic!" came the cry from more than once voice, but all from behind the rampart; not a single piece of metal, not a single fragment of the ship had landed directly on the defences; either the grimm in front or the men and machines behind had borne the brunt of it.

"Stand up, soldiers!" cried Colonel Harper, who had not flinched as the debris began to fall, who had not even cringed as flaming fragments of metal landed all around her. "Someone check on the pilot of that machine."

As soldiers leapt to obey her command, Colonel Harper looked upwards, to where the ship had hung just a moment earlier. Rainbow wondered which ship it had been. There were four cruisers in the Fourth Squadron, four cruisers per squadron: Courageous, Vigilant, Resolution, and their old friend Gallant which had come with them to Vale near the very start of the year and provided them with invaluable fire support in their battle at the docks. Resolution had been damaged by the Valish and left to mind the shop around the Amity Arena. That meant that the ship that had just been lost had been one of Courageous, Vigilant, or Gallant. From below, it was impossible to tell which of the three it was.

But one of them was down, and down with all hands too, by the looks of things. There were no sign of any escape pods, just debris flung across the landscape.

Rainbow looked down, her magenta-eyed gaze returning to Colonel Harper, catching her in a moment where her eyes were closed and she seemed to shrink visibly, to look more tired as though, in an instant, she'd stayed up for a couple of nights straight without even unhealthy amounts of coffee to sustain her. And then she opened her eyes again, and almost grew before Rainbow's eyes once more, weariness banished once again, the Colonel of the Fourth Battalion returned, inviolate and unyielding.

"Don't let them die in vain!" she shouted. "Do not let that loss be for nothing! Hold the line! Fight for the Fourth! Fight for the Gallant!"

The Gallant. So they had lost the Gallant. The ship that had come to Vale first, that had ferried them across the sea to fetch Penny home all those months ago.

She had been a good ship.

"I need to report to General Ironwood," Colonel Harper announced as she began to descend from the rampart. "Hold the line, soldiers of the Fourth. Keep up your fire, and they won't break through. Hold fast!"

And they did hold fast. The grimm hurled themselves against the ramparts and the walls, but they did not break through. Goliaths and cyclopes carried beowolves up to the ramparts, and those that reached the line swept the ramparts with their trunks, swatting soldiers aside or picking them up and crushing them in vice-like grips; cyclopes reached out with meaty hands to grab soldiers too slow to get out of their way, or do as the goliaths did and sweep them across the top of the wall to catch anyone standing or lying there. Beowolves leapt down from the backs of the goliaths and the cyclopes, while ursai dug their claws into the dirt and concrete and tried to climb up.

But the line was held regardless. Cyclopes were brought down by rockets, or by the fire of Paladins who also raked the backs of the goliaths with volleys of missiles. Rifles and machine guns swept the goliaths' backs to kill the beowolves, while huntsmen sallied out beyond the line to kill the goliaths before they got too close, those that weren't eviscerated by laser fire from the Paladins. Bullets rained down from the top of the rampart down on the ursai trying to climb up.

Flynt used his semblance to create three copies of himself, and four copies of his trumpet blasted out sonic waves that sent beowolves flying off a goliath's back. Sunburst did the same thing with gusts of wind dust from his staff. Maud ripped a goliath's tusk off — she was freakishly strong, considering that it wasn't even her semblance — when one came close enough, then stabbed it in the eye with its own tusk before it could dissolve. Trixie unleashed a wave of flame out of her wand that might not have killed the goliath itself but burned up everything and every grimm around it. Rarity lithely dodged a cyclops' fumbling hands and stabbed it in its one enormous eye, then Blake cut its head off while it was reeling. Rainbow and Neon dashed up and down the line, helping to repel any boarders who managed to leap from their living siege towers onto the rampart itself.

The grimm kept coming. They kept coming and coming like there was no end to them, like all the grimm that walked on the surface of Remnant had come to Vale and were running into the Atlesian fire as if they could overwhelm it with sheer numbers, bury them beneath a tide of black bodies. There were so many grimm, and they just kept coming, but the Atlesians, the soldiers of the Fourth, the huntsmen and huntresses of Atlas, held them back no matter how many there were, threw them back, turned their charges to ashes and smoke.

If the grimm hadn't decayed, if the grimm had stayed where they were dead, and each new grimm who came up, each new beowolf and new goliath had to walk across the dead of all their previous failed efforts, might they have stopped to think twice? Might it have given them pause, the way that every grimm that had come before them had ended up dead?

Probably not; grimm were smarter than they looked, but they weren't people; even so, Rainbow would have kinda liked them to have to climb over the bodies of their own dead; it would have meant they had a harder time reaching the Atlesian line.

"Rainbow Dash," Midnight said, "General Ironwood is calling."

Rainbow fired Undying Loyalty, blowing the head off an ursa before it could top the rampart, before stepping back from the edge. "Put him on."

"Dash," General Ironwood said, his voice emerging from behind Rainbow as though she'd missed him sneaking up on her during the fighting. "I've got a job for you."

"Sir," Rainbow said. "What's the assignment?"

"I take it you know the Valish have broken and the grimm have overrun half the Green Line," General Ironwood said.

"Hard to miss, sir," Rainbow replied. "But they don't seem to be rounding on us; they're still coming from the front."

"So Colonel Harper tells me, but how long will that last?" asked General Ironwood. "And in the meantime, they're pressing hard against the Beacon and Haven students who've been caught on open ground. The Mistralian forces are providing what support they can, but I'm worried about them."

Penny. The one good thing in what General Ironwood had said was that the Beacon students hadn't been overrun when the Valish line collapsed, by the sounds of it. Either they'd fallen back, or else they'd run with the Valish soldiers only to rally when they met up with the Haven students and the Mistralian troops. Honestly, while they would have been leaving the Atlesian flank hanging — not that they hadn't ended up doing that anyway; it wasn't as though the two forces had joined hands together — they might have been best served to have kept on falling back all the way to the Red Line, where they had a wall between them and the grimm pursuit. Instead … well, Rainbow wasn't there, so she couldn't say exactly what had happened — maybe they'd stood their ground; maybe they'd thought they could make it to the Green Line, only the grimm had overrun it first; maybe they'd been trying to fall back, but the grimm were faster than expected — but the bottom line was that the grimm horde had made contact in the open country, without any of the defences that the Atlesians were leveraging to hold them off.

It was kind of a testament to the skill of Penny, Pyrrha, Ruby, and all the rest that General Ironwood was only worried about them, rather than telling Rainbow that they'd been swallowed up by a black wave already.

But the General was absolutely right to be worried. He was making Rainbow a little worried too.

Pyrrha will look after Penny. They'll watch each other's backs.

That'll do them a lot of good when they're back to back and there's nothing but grimm as far as the eye can see.

"I'm sorry, sir, I wasn't fast enough."

"What are your orders, sir?" Rainbow asked, wondering why General Ironwood was telling her this. She wasn't sure what she could do on her own to help Penny now, unless General Ironwood wanted her to get Penny out, which … Penny probably wouldn't like, even if the offer did include Pyrrha and Jaune and Ruby too, and if it did, they probably wouldn't take it.

So what was she supposed to do, apart from worry?

"I want you to take Belladonna and Soleil, find the Apex Alpha leading the horde on the right flank, and kill it," General Ironwood announced. "Doing that won't stop the grimm, but it will disrupt their cohesion and should take some of the pressure off our allies and our own flank."

That was … okay, that was not what Rainbow had been expecting General Ironwood to ask of her. It was bold, to say the least, and more than a bit risky, too.

Worth it for the reward, though. And doing nothing…

Penny.

Without the Atlesian defences and advantages, without the airships and the spiders and the Paladins, facing the grimm in the open in a stand up fight, with the numbers being what they were…

"I'm sorry, sir, I wasn't fast enough."

Doing something about that was worth the risk.

Of course, there was the problem of not actually knowing where the Apex Alpha was, but General Ironwood had told her — them — to find it.

"Yes, sir, I'll get it done," Rainbow said. "But I'll need a Skyray." Searching from the air would be a bit of a risk, but it would certainly be a lot easier and a lot less risky than trying to move through the grimm hordes on the ground to find one of their leaders. "No pilot, I'll fly it myself and hand off to an android when necessary." She would hand it off to Midnight, at least; that ought to make the computer happy after a night of feeling like Rainbow's secretary.

"Understood, I'll have one dispatched at once; it'll meet you on the landing ground," General Ironwood said, not questioning her decision to fly the airship personally. "Get moving as soon as it arrives." He paused. "Good luck. Ironwood out."

"Sir," Rainbow said, unsure of whether the General had actually heard her or not. She supposed it didn't matter too much either way.

The job was what mattered now.

"Blake! Ciel!" Rainbow shouted. "Come with me! Rarity," — she stepped close towards her — "I need you to stay here, stick close to Team Tsunami; they'll look after you. Starlight, Trixie, you don't mind having Rarity around, do you?"

"Nope," Starlight said, firing a burst of shots from Equaliser. "The more the merrier."

"I can't come with you?" Rarity asked softly.

"No," Rainbow said. "I'm afraid not, not this time."

Rarity nodded, a kind of small nod, but it was there. "But you will come back," she said. "Won't you?"

"Of course," Rainbow said. "Right back, fast as we can." She patted her on the shoulder. "Take care of yourself."

She slung Undying Loyalty across her back as she descended the rampart.

Colonel Harper was nearby and coming in their direction. "Going somewhere?" she asked.

Rainbow saluted. "Ma'am, General Ironwood has just ordered us to carry out a new assignment."

Colonel Harper was silent for a moment. "I see," she murmured. "I suppose it must be something important."

"I hope so, ma'am," Rainbow replied.

"Then you'd best get to it," Colonel Harper said. "You'll be missed, but orders are orders. Good hunting, cadets."

"Ma'am," Rainbow said, saluting again before moving on, heading back the way that they'd all come at the start of the battle, past the triage tent, past the battalion headquarters where the androids still stood with the Colours, past the Knights still playing their martial music, following the path strewn with lights towards the landing area where their Skyray would soon arrive.

She kept her pace to a speed at which Blake and Ciel could keep pace with her, and they both drew level.

"An assignment?" Blake asked. "What could be more important than this?" She paused. "Is it Amber? Is it—?"

"No," Rainbow said. "No, it's not that. General Ironwood wants us to find and destroy the Apex Alpha leading the horde on the other side of the battlefield. They might try and turn our flank, and they are pressing the Beacon and Haven students hard, but if we can kill the boss of the horde, that will relieve some of the pressure on Penny and the others."

"Understood," Ciel said. "Although that is a tall order."

"But not impossible," Blake said. "Or an unsound concept. I've done it before."

"Right, that was the time when you lured away half the Apex Alpha's bodyguards all by yourself, wasn't it?" Rainbow asked. She remembered the story coming out that night they'd spent out in Vale with Lady Belladonna.

"Someone had to do something," Blake said. "It was necessary to even the odds for Weiss, Yang, and Sunset."

"Maybe it was, I wasn't there, but it was also a very you thing to do, and we'll try and stop that being necessary this time," Rainbow muttered. "I've got an airship coming; once it arrives, we're going to fly over the grimm, dodging any flying grimm obviously, towards the rear of the horde; that's where the Apex Alpha should be. Once we find it … well, how we kill it kind of depends on what kind of a grimm it is, doesn't it? Ideally, we'd hit it from the air, but it probably won't be that simple. Assuming it isn't, Ciel will provide covering fire from the Skyray while Blake and I drop down and engage the grimm on the ground. I'm sure we can figure out the details once we know what it is that we have to fight."

"It'll be well protected, whatever kind of grimm it is," Blake said. "The horde we faced, the four of us, was tiny compared to the number of grimm facing us tonight, but the Apex Alpha was still defended by a company of bodyguards, all of them alphas in their own right. This may not be easy."

"No," Rainbow agreed. "But however easy or hard it is, General Ironwood is counting on us, and so is Penny, even if she doesn't know it, so we'll find our way through, agreed?"

"Agreed," Ciel said at once.

"Agreed," Blake said, a little more softly but every bit as firmly.

They reached the landing zone, having gone past the mortars and the spider droids, where shells and missiles flew in waves. When they arrived, the landing zone was half empty, and the half that was full was occupied by Skyrays that were either waiting or else were transporting wounded up to the medical frigate for further treatment.

They were waiting, but not for long, before another Skyray flew into view, the lights on its wings illuminating the airship as it dropped vertically down to land in the centre of the landing zone.

The side doors opened. Rainbow climbed in, and in a couple of steps had reached the cockpit. There was no pilot, only a Knight in the co-pilot's seat.

"I think this is us," Rainbow called to the others. She sat down in the pilot's chair, strapping herself in. "Midnight," she said, "if I have to get out and fight, you'll be the one flying the airship."

"You mean I might finally get to do something other than handle your calls tonight?" Midnight asked.

"Yes, if you're lucky."

"Yes!" Midnight cried. "I can fly right now, if you like."

"Let's save that for later, okay?" Rainbow asked. "I'd like to keep my own hands on the controls for now. Is everyone in?"

"Affirmative," Ciel answered from behind her.

"Okay then," Rainbow said, closing the doors. "Let's hunt an Apex Alpha."

XxXxX​

The guns of the Dingyuan blazed overhead, firing not down at the grimm on the ground but at the grimm that swarmed in the air above, around the Mistralian battleship. Nevermores, griffons, teryxes, they threw themselves against the great airship, talons and claws reaching out for it. The ship's guns blazed in all directions, and many grimm perished in the flames of the explosions as shells burst in the air, so many shells that the Dingyuan seemed at times to be surrounded by a shield of fire; but for all the fire, for all the shells, for all the blazing of so many guns, the grimm were getting through. Not many, perhaps, but some nonetheless, some grimm who clawed at the hull, who tore at the armour, who were starting to open up the ship like a tin of beans for breakfast. Could the crew defend the ship from the inside if the grimm started getting in? Could the grimm actually get inside? Not the teryxes, for sure — at least, Yang didn't think so; why would anyone build the corridors on a ship big enough for grimm that size to fit in? — and probably not the big nevermores either, but the griffons? Maybe they could, and then … could the crew defend the ship against them when they got inside? Would it matter, if the grimm didn't need to 'get inside' when they could just tear the ship apart from the outside?

Either way, Yang didn't think it was looking all that great for the ship; when the battle had started, when they'd first rounded on the grimm, then the fire of all those big guns had been a welcome assist, but now … now, it had been a while since they had any fire support from the ship, and while Yang wasn't an Atlesian to feel like she needed a big ship to cover her, the fact was that it had been welcome, especially since the Mistralian troops didn't seem to be packing anything big enough to hurt the really big grimm, and there were just a lot of grimm to worry about.

A lot of grimm, and a number of huntsmen and huntresses that hadn't been huge to begin with and was only getting smaller.

Yang kind of felt, as she looked down from the skies and punched out a couple of ursai until they were dead, like she was being ungrateful by complaining about the numbers. After all, there were a lot of students here; even if Yang couldn't have told you most of their names, there were still more of them than a huntress would expect to find herself fighting alongside most of the time. Considering that, as a rule, a team of four was as good as it got for the average mission, having a big group like this all fighting together — ship or no, troops or no — that was better than anyone had any right to expect.

But just because it was good didn't mean that it was enough.

It ought to be possible to win this fight. Professor Ozpin had won at Ozpin's Stand, right? He'd led the huntsmen and the huntresses — and some of the students too, like Mom and Dad and Uncle Qrow — out to defend Vale, and they'd met the grimm … Yang really wished that they'd gotten to this in Doctor Oobleck's class, but they hadn't, so she was left to wrack her brains for the memories of Uncle Qrow's stories and primer history books from the first year of combat school for the site of the battle. Nowhere that had a name already, or they wouldn't have called it Ozpin's Stand. Somewhere between Vale and Mountain Glenn. Anyway, the point was that he'd met the grimm there, they'd all met the grimm there, and they'd beaten them. They'd met the grimm on the open ground, and they hadn't had any airships or soldiers — Atlas had refused to help them out, Yang remembered that much, and the Council had concentrated all the Defence Forces tight around Vale, writing off everywhere else — just huntsmen and huntresses with a lot of guts. And yet, they'd won. They'd beaten the horde, with no tricks, no help, no defences, just a fight out in the open, grimm vs. huntsmen, and the huntsmen had won.

It ought to be possible for them to repeat the trick here, but on the evidence of how it was going so far, Yang had to admit that it wasn't looking likely.

Yang roared as she punched a beowolf's head clean off.

It wasn't as though they weren't trying their best; they were, they really were.

A deathstalker advanced, bearing down straight towards Yang, pincers snapping at the empty air.

Yang threw a couple of shadow punches at it, shots firing from Ember Celica; they glanced harmlessly off its armour, but that was fine by Yang; she just wanted to keep the grimm's attention on her. "That's it, come on, come and get me," she muttered, grinning like a fiend — or a loon — as she made a 'come hither' gesture with one hand. "Come on." She raised her voice. "Ruby, take the stinger! Nora, give her a boost."

"You got it!" Nora replied cheerfully, putting down her hammer for a second and picking up Ruby instead, throwing the taller but lighter girl through the air before she could do anything but squawk in alarm.

Ruby flew through the air, red cape flying out behind her, rose petals falling, dragging Crescent Rose after her as she zoomed past the deathstalker and sliced through its stinger in a single clean blow. The golden stinger dropped down onto the deathstalker's bleached armour plates, getting stuck in between them. The deathstalker started wriggling, like it was trying to dislodge the sting.

"Nora, hit it!" Yang commanded.

Nora cackled. Yang charged for the deathstalker, firing as she went, Ember Celica blazing as she punched the empty air in front of her repeatedly, keeping the deathstalker's eyes on her, only on her, and not at all on the redhead who had just picked her hammer back up off the ground.

The deathstalker lunged towards her, pincers snapping, but Nora had already leapt, hammer drawn back so far that Nora's body was contorted, back arched in what had to be at least a little painful, before she brought it down on the deathstalker's protruding sting, driving it down through the armour into the creature itself.

The deathstalker flopped down to the ground, its legs giving way beneath it.

Ruby slashed her way back to them, cutting through a few beowolves on the way. "I could have made that jump myself," she said.

"Maybe," Yang admitted. "But I wanted to be sure. So long as the grimm's dead, it doesn't matter how, right?"

Ruby took a breath. "Right," she said softly. "One down—"

"And a whole lot more to go!" Nora said, with a whole lot of enthusiasm considering what she'd just said.

A whole lot more grimm to go. So many more grimm to go that it didn't seem to matter how many they killed; there were always more of the things coming up to take their place. There had to be an end to them, right? There had to be a point at which the grimm just ran out?

It wasn't like every grimm in Remnant was here; even hordes had to have a limit, right?

So where was it? Why didn't it feel like they were reaching it at all?

The goliath alerted them to its coming with its trumpeting, with the huge sound it made as it stomped through the grimm, trampling down anything smaller than it — which was most grimm — on its way to get Team YRRN.

Ren fired at it, Stormflowers blazing, but the bullets just bounced off the goliath's skull like his guns were peashooters; the grimm didn't even seem to notice them.

It seemed more interested in Nora. Had it seen her taking out the deathstalker?

Nora prepared to meet the goliath, hammer raised.

Call it instinct, but Yang thought that was a bad idea.

"Nora, get back!" she shouted, even as she rushed to meet the goliath. She fired a couple of shots, but only a couple — she wanted to get its attention, but she didn't want to waste ammunition — as she charged, rushing past Nora, her blonde hair flying. She'd been kind of lucky so far in terms of taking hits, her semblance wasn't on very much, but maybe if she took a hit from this big boy, then it would charge her up enough that she could put a serious dent in it in turn.

The goliath kept on charging, head swaying a little back and forth. Its trunk swept at her.

Yang leapt over the black trunk as it came close — sure, she'd take a hit, but she'd rather not take one that sent her flying to the other side of the battlefield — and hit it as it passed underneath her. Hopefully, it hurt the goliath even though it didn't kill it.

As she landed on her feet, Yang reached out and grabbed the goliath's tusk. Both hands wrapped around the white bone. It was cold, really cold, icy cold, cold and slippery like something that had been in the freezer and now all the ice was starting to melt, and even with her black fingerless gloves on her hands, Yang had to fight to stop her hands from slipping.

The goliath trumpeted angrily, and Yang more than half-expected it to toss its head to try and toss her away.

It didn't.

Because Nora had hold of the other tusk.

The goliath's eyes blazed, redder than the markings on its skull as it tried to advance.

Yang braced herself, digging her heels into the grass on which she stood. She was forced back a little bit, the earth giving way beneath her, but not by much. She and Nora were where they were, and the goliath, that huge old grimm, could barely move them.

Put like that, it made them sound kind of awesome.

Which wasn't to say it was easy. Yang could feel the grimm's strength pressing down on her, trying to push her back, trying to throw her away. She had to hold on, hold on tight despite the slipperiness of the goliath's tusk. Her biceps bulged, and Nora's too, as they held on and pushed against the goliath.

The goliath tried to swing its trunk at Yang, but Ruby buried Crescent Rose into the trunk and down into the ground beneath, pinning it down. Ren dived between the goliath's legs, slashing at them with the blades on the ends of his Stormflowers, before turning his attention to the creeps who tried to come to the goliath's aid. He danced among the snapping, snarling grimm, shooting this one, stabbing that, kicking another hard enough to send it flying off into the night.

The goliath bellowed and roared; it kept pushing against Yang and Nora.

Yang and Nora pushed right back.

Yang heard the goliath's tusk crack.

A grin spread out across her face as she pushed even harder, muscles straining; she grunted and winced with the effort as she shoved against the goliath's tusk, putting her shoulder to it.

Nora's tusk broke first — it was ridiculous that someone so tiny could be stronger than Yang was — and the triumphant crowing as she pulled it away showed that Nora knew it too. Yang's came away a moment later, splintering and shattering, coming free with an enormous cracking sound.

Yang knew she didn't have long; the tusk would start to dissolve at any minute. She lunged forwards, Nora doing the same, the two of them diving underneath the goliath's bony head and driving the tusks like knives up into its throat.

Yang shoved the white tusk into the black flesh as far as it would go, pushing at it and pushing at it until there was barely any visible tusk left to push.

Then the goliath fell on her as it died.

Yang gasped as the mountain of blackness fell on her, but all that did was cause her mouth to fill with the stuff, choking her; she wanted to wretch, but she could not; she wanted to breathe even more, but she couldn't do that either. All she could do was fumble blindly, digging at the oily black substance with both hands, trying to shove it away, trying to burrow through it, hoping that it would dissolve already so that she could get out from underneath it.

A strong hand seized her, Nora's hand, pulling her out and free, then standing guard over her as Yang turned away, retreating a few paces from the battle and, under Nora's watch and protection, bending double and starting to cough and retch. She expelled the ash and decaying essence from her mouth, smoke passing from between her lips like she was some sort of dragon or something. Even after the smoke, even after she felt the ash leave, even after it saw it mingled with her saliva as it was expelled from her mouth, Yang could still feel something in there, clutching at her mouth, clogging up her throat. She gasped for breath, but through her wheezing throat and the strained sounds it made, she felt only a little air reach her lungs — a little air and so much else that no sooner had she clutched that breath then she was wracked with a cough that sent her whole body shuddering. Spittle, and worse than spittle, saliva and phlegm and nasty black stuff all bundled up together in a thick and cloying substance leapt out of her mouth in all directions, some landing on her knees and legs with a nasty sticky sensation. Yang's eyes were filled with water as she breathed in another wheezing, insufficient breath and coughed again, more spittle flying.

She felt someone slapping her back. It didn't really help, but she appreciated the effort.

Yang was bent double, gasping even as her throat felt a little clearer. A little clearer. There was still something in her mouth; she could see it dripping down out of her mouth onto the grass between her feet like she was a tap that couldn't be quite shut off properly.

Her mouth felt foul. She really wanted a drink of water, only she didn't have any.

A flask was proffered in her direction, held in a hand with a green sleeve.

"Here," Ren said. "Drink this."

Yang looked up into Ren's face, a kind smile on his face and no pity in his eyes. She took the flash. "You think of everything, don't you?" she asked.

"I try," Ren said softly, the smile on his face not growing by a millimetre.

Yang drank, swallowing the swig of water, and with it probably at least some of the awful stuff in her mouth. Her stomach might not like it, but it did make her mouth feel a little better.

"Thanks," she said, handing the flask back to him. "Remind me in future not to get underneath a grimm I'm about to kill."

Ren nodded.

Yang took another breath, a deeper breath than she'd managed recently.

One down, and a lot more to go.

They were killing grimm. The monsters were dying before them, all around them, it wasn't as though they weren't fighting hard because they were, they really were fighting hard. Arslan seemed to be seeking out the cyclopes on purpose, getting between their legs and hammering away at their shins until they went down. There was a Haven student with wall eyes — Yang knew she'd seen her before, in Professor Goodwitch's class, but she couldn't remember her name — who was able to dodge every blow the grimm aimed at her, even if it was only by the skin of her teeth, then hit back or kick back twice as hard, and she didn't have to hit very many of them twice. Sun's friend Neptune kept his two teammates covered with his gun, while their big green-haired teammate hacked away at ursai with his sword. Lucius Andronicus sprayed fire in all directions. Penny's laser might take a little longer to charge than was ideal, but once it was all charged up, it could take out a goliath in one shot, while her swords could slice through half a pack of beowolves in an instant. Coco laid about with her handbag, clobbering any grimm that came in reach. Pyrrha rushed from one side of the fighting to the other, her red sash and her red hair flying out behind her like she had her own special flag, fighting to shore up wherever things looked bad. Like right now, where she was tearing through a pack of boarbatusks, Miló switching from spear to sword then back again as she skewered one, gutted another, stabbed a third through the mouth as it roared at her, grabbed a fourth one by the tusks, and beat a fifth boarbatusk to death with its own fellow; you couldn't say she wasn't pulling her weight.

They were all pulling their weight. They were all doing the best they could, they were all killing grimm, but it wasn't enough.

It didn't feel like enough.

Not least because their numbers were going down. Velvet from Team CFVY, Lucius' other teammate whose name Yang still couldn't remember, others too, the injuries they were taking were starting to mount up, and there were people … Yang didn't know for sure they were dead, but there were people whom she couldn't see anymore, and they weren't amongst the wounded. And to make things worse, the wounded were still close by because there was no way to move them, and they couldn't send them back to Vale because they couldn't spare anyone to take them, and they couldn't fall back because that would expose the wounded, and so they were kind of stuck here, and nobody even really knew how the Mistralian troops were doing — was their fire getting less, or was Yang imagining that?

They should be able to win. But it didn't feel like they would, not now, not like—

An explosion, much louder than the ever-present shell bursts that had become commonplace, ripped through the air, tearing Yang's eyes back upwards towards the Mistralian battleship.

She looked up in time to see the fireball rip its way out of the ship from the inside, bursting the armour, throwing the plate and the guns off into the darkness. Sound aside, it didn't look like a huge explosion, especially not compared with the actual size of the ship, but the airship seemed to be kind of listing a little, leaning sideways, bow pointed downwards. It hung that way for a second, while the grimm still flew around it and tore more chunks of it, but then the ship began to drop.

It moved slowly at first, so that Yang wasn't sure right away that it was actually falling or it just looked as though it was, but then as it came closer, as it grew bigger in her eyes, as it picked up speed, there was no doubt at all that ship was about to hit the ground hard.

"Get out of the way!" Yang shouted, grabbing Ruby and carrying her as she ran away from the falling ship, away from where she thought it might — would — land.

She threw Ruby to the ground, then threw herself on top of her, covering her little sister with her body.

The Dingyuan hit the ground in the middle of the grimm; it started to explode as soon as its nose collided with the surface, explosions rippling up the giant airship like steps up a ladder, or like a ladder being folded up maybe, more and more of the battleship being folded up into the explosion as the metal crumpled until about halfway up or down the ship, there was an enormous explosion, so loud it deafened Yang for a second, so bright that the flash burned through her eyelids, so hot she felt the heat wash over her and singe her aura, while the shockwave picked up her hair and tried to rip it off her head; at least, that's what it felt like it was doing.

Yang looked up, scrambling off Ruby so that she could get up as Yang, too, got to her feet.

The Dingyuan was gone. In its place was a field of smouldering flames and burning debris, an open space turned into a labyrinth of bits of metal, twisted, jagged, some of them on fire, some of them still resembling a gun or a propeller shaft, some of them even managing to still look like a part of a compartment, one that was blackened and covered with ash. Though the fires lit up the night, Yang still couldn't see much because there was now so much debris in the way. But there was no sign of any grimm; those that were caught in the explosion must all be dead, but unless that explosion had turned out to be much, much bigger than it had felt or sounded, then there was no way that it had wiped out the whole horde. It was a lot down, but a lot more still to go, and the grimm would be back, Yang had no doubt. They'd be back, slinking through the wreckage, and the huntsmen would have to plunge into the maze of debris to fight them — and all the while with nevermores and griffons coming down on them from above.

But, for now, they had a little space to catch their breath. Even the flying grimm seemed to have retreated for a minute.

They had a little space to catch their breath, and to think.

There had to be a way. It had been done before, Professor Ozpin had done it, he'd stopped a horde—

And so did I. Come on, Yang! How did you miss that? You don't need to think about Professor Ozpin; you've stopped a horde yourself. Sure, it wasn't as big as this one, but the principle's the same!

"Nora! Ren!" Yang shouted. "Pyrrha, Jaune, Penny, get over here!"

"What's up?" Ruby asked, sounding a little wary. Maybe she didn't want any more to do with her old team than she had to; that was unfortunate, and Yang was sorry that things had worked out the way that they had, she wished they'd gone better, but what she had in mind probably wasn't going to be easy, and they could use all the help they could get.

"You'll find out soon, once everyone gets here," Yang assured her.

They all come, Ren and Nora first, then the other members of Team SAPR — and Penny. They all looked kind of shocked by what had happened, with wide eyes and open mouths. Yang just hoped they weren't too shocked to pay attention.

"Okay, we can't just keep fighting them like this," Yang said. "We'll run out of aura before they run out of grimm. But I've got an idea: we're going to sneak around the edge of the horde, to the rear, find the Apex Alpha, and kill it. That will mean … maybe they won't disperse right away, but they'll stop coming at us so … single-mindedly, I guess. I hope they will, anyway; there'll just be packs of grimm, and they'll cover the area, but they'll be a lot easier to fight off, tonight and in the future."

"Like the leadership exercise from the start of the year," Ruby said.

"Yes, exactly!" Yang cried. "Me, Sunset, Weiss, and Blake found our way around the horde, found the Apex Alpha, and took it out, and the rest of the horde dispersed; it worked then, it will work now."

"Sunset came to rue that decision," Pyrrha murmured. "She said you barely escaped with your lives, and only thanks to Professor Goodwitch's intervention."

"Sunset … wasn't wrong about that," Yang admitted, running one hand through her hair. "But how long do you think that we can just keep this up? Does anyone have a better idea?"

"Do you really think it'll work?" Nora asked softly. "I get that you want to do something, but doing something that won't work just because it seems like the only option—"

"It will work," Yang insisted. "It might work," she corrected herself. "I mean, I can't offer any guarantees, we are talking about the top grimm of the horde, it might be too strong for us, it might be too well guarded, but we're still just talking about one grimm and its bodyguards, not fighting off endless waves of grimm until they're all dead or we are. I'm not saying that it will be easy, I'm not even saying that the odds are fantastic — this will be tough, even finding the Apex Alpha will be a challenge — but this is something that has been proven to work, and it means that that their numbers, their big advantage over us, won't count for so much. It won't be easy, but it is our best shot all the same."

There was a moment of silence.

"How would we get around the grimm?" asked Jaune, softly.

"Ren's semblance lets him mask emotions, hide people from the grimm; they can't sense them," Yang explained. "Especially with your help, I think he can conceal all of us if he has to. Then it's just a matter of staying out of sight of the grimm as we work our way around their flank and behind them. That's the way we did it last time."

"Makes sense," Ruby said. "This might be our best chance to save Vale. Otherwise … we can stand here and fight until we get overrun and we all die, but Vale will be in just as much danger as it was before."

Nora's jaw tightened, before she said, "I'm in."

"We're in," Ren corrected her.

"And…" Penny began. "And us too. If we work together, that increases our chances of completing the mission. And getting out again."

Okay, Yang thought. They've gone for it, that was easy.

Easier than doing it, that's for sure.

She was not blind to Pyrrha's concern. Sunset had turned it to a bit of an old worrywart over the last year, the fire that had driven her to daring risks at the year's beginning all snuffed out — the Sunset who suggested that they should throw the dice on trying to take out the Apex Alpha rather than meeting the horde head on had died sometime … it had been the fight at the docks that had killed her. Adam's sword had killed that Sunset when it sliced into Ruby's side. Yang found that she could hardly blame her for that, for all that the old Sunset had been more fun — but she'd had a point about what happened to them last time. If Professor Goodwitch hadn't shown up when she did, then they would have been in real trouble. Ten out of ten for courage, five out of ten for good sense, as Professor Goodwitch had said at the time. But, in addition to the inarguable point about them not having any better options, there was no reason why they couldn't do better this time around, learn from their mistakes.

The big mistake being, of course, that none of the four of them had given any thought to how they would escape once they had killed the Apex Alpha.

Yang, on the other hand, had thought about it: they had Ren's semblance, which would stop the grimm from picking up on their scent, and they would have speed as well.

"To the southeast, I'm sure I spotted a car that was ditched by the Valish soldiers. Provided that it hasn't been destroyed in that explosion just now, we can use it to move quickly around the grimm and get behind them — and get out again when we're done."

"That won't be quiet," Jaune warned.

"No, but I'll take the risk," Yang replied. "Pyrrha's right; last time, we didn't have a plan to get out, and we nearly paid for it; well, this is my plan to get out: by putting pedal to the metal."

Jaune nodded. "That makes sense, I guess."

"Are we all agreed then?" Yang asked. "Because we shouldn't—"

"I think Pyrrha should stay here," Ruby interrupted. "If the Mistralians see her leaving, then they might think that she's running away, and they could lose heart. We don't want them to break and run the way the Valish soldiers did."

Pyrrha stiffened.

"It's nothing personal," Ruby went on quickly. "It just … makes sense."

Pyrrha breathed in and out, her chest rising and falling. "I hate the fact you may be right."

"I'm not thrilled about it myself," muttered Yang. She'd been kind of hoping to have Pyrrha's skills on their side for this, it would have certainly made things a little easier; she'd been a little bit counting on it, to be perfectly honest. They could manage without her, Yang was sure, but it would be harder, and Yang would have rather had Pyrrha on her side.

That said … Ruby made some sense. The high regard — the excessively high regard — in which Pyrrha was held by the Mistralians, meant that they might take it the wrong way if they saw her walking off into the night, and it wasn't like they had time to explain to everyone where they were going and what they were up to.

It made sense for her to stay.

But quite apart from the fact that it would make their lives more difficult, it was also a tough thing to ask of Pyrrha. So tough that even if Yang had thought about it, she probably wouldn't have been able to ask it. She didn't have … Yang wasn't sure what to call what Ruby had that let her be so blunt to Pyrrha like this.

"I could really use Penny and Jaune's help with this," Yang murmured.

Pyrrha nodded, the movement was stiff, like her golden gorget was constraining her neck. "Of course," she whispered. She locked eyes with Yang. "Take care of them."

"There is no world where I come back and they don't," Yang said. "You have my word on that."

"I don't want your death," Pyrrha whispered. "I want their lives."

"I know," Yang said. "But I'm offering you the most I can promise for sure."

Jaune gripped the red sash around his waist with one hand. With the other hand, he reached towards her. "Pyrrha—"

She turned away. "Indulge me in a touch of superstition," she said. "If we say no farewells, then we are sure to meet again. Besides, you are in haste, and I would not delay you with a long goodbye."

"Right," Jaune muttered, looking away for a second, looking down at the hilt of his sword and at the sash around his waist. He bent forward and kissed her gently on the back of the neck before he stepped away.

Penny wrapped her arms around Pyrrha's waist and held her for a second, maybe two. Pyrrha's hands, drifted up to brush against Penny's hands, Pyrrha's fingers upon her knuckles, before Penny let go.

"Okay then," Yang said. "Everyone follow me, before the grimm come back."

They did all follow her, all save Pyrrha, whom they left standing there. She wasn't watching them, or at least Yang thought that she wasn't, but when she looked over her shoulder, she found that, no, Pyrrha was watching; maybe she'd started watching as soon as their backs were turned. She kept on watching, Yang could feel her gaze on her all the way.

And she wasn't the only one watching them. They caught the eyes of other students, although no one challenged them as they headed away from the others, away from the Mistralian camp, out into the darkness in the direction — hopefully, it was hard to tell in the dark — where she'd seen the abandoned car.

There! There it was! She could see it now: an armoured car, painted green with a red fox painted on the front door. It was square, boxy, and sturdy-looking, as well it might, considering it was armoured. It looked big too, with room for all six of them inside. There was a machine gun on the roof, with a hole in said roof to access it.

It was also stuck in a ditch, which was presumably why it had been abandoned in the first place.

But what was stuck for ordinary people wasn't necessarily stuck for huntresses, and Yang called Nora to help her. The two ran up ahead of the others and put their hands upon the car's front.

"One," Yang said. "Two, three!"

They both heaved; the car resisted for a second, the weight pushing back on them. But this armoured car was nothing, nothing at all compared to a goliath, and a second later, it began to move, and in no time at all, the two of them had pushed it out of the ditch and onto the grass.

Yang climbed into the front seat. She wasn't sure if anyone else could drive, but since she knew she could drive — she didn't drive cars very often, but Dad had shown her how — there was no point asking anybody else.

Instead of a key, there was a push button.

Result!

The others got in. Penny took the other seat up front next to Yang, leaving Ruby, Ren, Nora, and Jaune in the back, with two seats still spare.

"Do you want anyone on the gun?" asked Nora.

"Not yet," Yang replied. "And Ren, save your semblance for when we need it, okay? No point in you and Jaune using up all your aura too soon."

"Understood," Ren said.

Yang pushed the ignition key. The car started smoothly, the engine giving off a muscular growl. It was a little louder than she would have liked, but it certainly sounded powerful, and that … that wasn't bad at all.

She wouldn't want to try and make their escape in some sputtering old wreck, after all.

"Let's do this," she muttered, pressing down on the accelerator and turning the steering wheel. The car turned at her command, and soon, they were heading away from their fellow students and into the countryside that had been overrun and belonged to the grimm now.

They drove off into the darkness and were lost to sight.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Apex

​

Team TTSS — and Maud and Rarity — heard the soldiers of the Third Battalion before they saw them. Despite the sounds of the battle raging in front of them, despite the howling of the grimm, despite the roaring of the shells and the missiles as they passed overhead, despite the snapping of the rifles and the barking of the machine guns, despite all of that, it was still possible to hear the feet of a battalion of infantry hammering the ground, hear the clanking of their Knights as the androids tried to keep pace with the men, hear the thumping tread of the Paladins and the spider droids, hear all the panoply of an Atlesian unit — a strong unit; this wasn't a mere squad or even a company — coming their way.

And, having heard them, Starlight only need to turn her head to see them, the soldiers of the Third Battalion streaming down the light-strewn pathway from the landing zone; they must have only just disembarked from their Skyrays, had the Knights and the Paladins dropped from Skygraspers, but they were going to get no respite like the huntsmen and huntress students had enjoyed before the grimm attacked. No, these soldiers were about to be thrown right into the battle.

Because the grimm had noticed that the Atlesian flank was in the air, and they were done letting that stand unmolested.

That was why Starlight didn't have to look very far to see the Third coming: Team TTSS, along with a few other teams, had been redeployed by Colonel Harper to cover the flank, to hold it, and to support the Third Battalion once they arrived.

And not a moment too soon, because a wave of grimm was heading their way, and for a second there, it had looked like the fairgrounds all over again.

The grimm were running towards an open door, hoping to pour through it; the Third Battalion was running to slam the door before the grimm could get through. It would all depend on who moved fastest.

Starlight sprayed fire with Equaliser, hardly bothering to aim at all, just firing shot after shot after shot in the direction of the dark mass that devoured the ground as they charged. With the grimm so numerous and so tightly pressed together, she could hardly miss, and the more that she could drop, the fewer there would be to reach the line.

Missiles flew, meteors through the darkness to hit the ground in fiery explosions, missiles coming from the Third's cruisers as they glided in overhead, their stopping points above marking the points below where the infantry would make their stand. Flying grimm soared towards them, evading — or trying to evade — the Atlesian airships that sought to bar their way, but for now, the cruisers almost ignored them. Sure, their point defence systems blazed away at any nevermore or griffon that got too close, but their missiles and their lasers were reserved for the grimm down below, searing them and incinerating them as they charged.

Starlight kept on firing; she couldn't make out how many grimm she was killing, but she was sure that she must be getting some of them.

Rarity conjured up a line of barriers, blue diamonds lined up in front of them to delay the grimm.

"I can't cover the whole battlefield in these, darlings," she said.

"Trixie doesn't suppose that you can make a rampart here, huh, Maud?" Trixie asked.

"This is dirt," Maud said softly. "Not rock."

"Aren't they the same thing?" asked Trixie.

Maud gave her a Look.

"Right, right, not the same," Trixie said. "Nothing at all alike. Understood."

Maud had an ethereal-looking rocket launcher resting on her shoulder, conjured by Sunburst's semblance, firing grey and gold rockets towards the grimm, exploding amongst them in motes of sparkling light.

And the Fourth Battalion's Military Huntsman company was also letting the grimm have it, finally seeing some action after Colonel Harper had deployed them here against just this eventuality. The grimm weren't coming right at them — more like, they were trying to slip around them — but that just put the Military Huntsmen in prime position to enfilade the grimm as they attacked. Some of the Military Huntsmen used standard rifles, light machine guns, light support weapons, rocket launchers; others used the weapons that had carried them through Combat School and that they would have hoped to use as Specialists. Special rounds, blasts of dust, customised grenades, even some arrows and quarrels, they all flew from the flank of the Fourth Battalion to wear away at the grimm like sandpaper smoothing down a piece of wood.

The grimm kept on coming, roaring and snarling, enduring the fire from above — it was only the cruisers firing right now; the spider droids and the mortars must be taking longer to set up — and the fire from the Atlesians already here. They kept on coming, racing towards the open space in the little time they had left before it ceased to be open.

Starlight felt something, a disturbance, an alert from her aura; she moved her foot just as a creep burst through the ground and tried to wrap its bony jaws around her foot. She slammed her foot down into its face instead, hard enough to kill it, but more creeps were popping out of the ground, beneath and behind Team TTSS and the other students and the Military Huntsmen.

Creeps weren't dangerous as a rule: they were small and weak compared to other grimm — even their alphas were kind of rubbish by comparison — their only real strength was in their numbers; a big enough group could overwhelm careless soldiers. Even with surprise on their side, there was little chance of them doing that here; the Atlesians were too numerous and, quite frankly, too good. No sooner had creeps started coming out of the ground than Maud had started pounding on them like this was all some big game of whack-a-mole back at the fairgrounds.

"You focus on the others," Maud said, in her usual voice that seemed devoid of emotions unless you knew her very well. "I've got this."

And she did. Earth might not have been rock, and she might not have been able to manipulate it with her semblance, but that didn't mean that Maud couldn't move like lightning and hit like a truck; scarcely had a single creep raised its head above ground than Maud was on them like a fox on a rabbit brave enough to stick its head out of the burrow — and these creeps weren't as fast or as smart as rabbits.

With her on it, Trixie and Starlight had nothing to worry about; they could focus on the grimm.

But not every team had a Maud, and Starlight was willing to bet the Military Huntsmen didn't; she didn't think they were in danger from the creeps, but their defending themselves meant that their fire on the grimm attacking in front slackened off.

Which was no doubt exactly what the grimm had planned.

The grimm kept coming, bounding over the grass, roaring as they ran, but they were answered by the roar of fire from the soldiers of the Third, the rifles opening up even before the troops had gotten into position, the lead elements — the Light Company, with the distinctive yellow stripes on their armour — blazing away as they stormed down the approach, filling the air with their tracer rounds. They were firing from the hip, some of them, and even those who fired from the shoulder were doing so at a run, fingers on the triggers as they sprinted forwards, and so the firing was wild and inaccurate, but the grimm were so many that unless the bullets went clean over their heads — which happened, in some cases, admittedly — they were bound to hit something.

The grimm attack faltered for a moment, the lessening of the fire on their flank compensated for by the fire now coming in from their front. They stopped, the lead grimm falling like leaves from the autumn trees, unable to move forward into the fire from the front.

The Third's Skyrays flew overhead, missiles erupted from out of the bulbous noses of the airships to burst amongst the grimm, explosions rippling out like firecrackers to tear the grimm apart. That wasn't a move they could pull very often, but they'd probably timed it about right.

The grimm faltered, and the soldiers of the Third took advantage of their momentary loss of nerve, the troops starting to reach their positions and fall in.

"Come on now!" barked a sergeant with a sash and sword, a sword which they planted in the ground as a marker for the flank of their squad. "Into line, two ranks, move!"

The soldiers moved and formed two ranks: the first rank knelt; the second rank stood and took aim over their heads. Feet kicked up dust as they shuffled into position. Rifles settled into shoulders. The ranks were not shoulder to shoulder, but it was a tight grouping, less than a foot between each soldier in the rank in most cases. The Paladins stomping forwards began to move into the gaps between the squads and platoons, towering over the humans and faunus around them.

As each unit and each mech moved into position, they opened fire, spreading rightwards down the line as the battalion formed on the flank of the Fourth's Military Huntsman. The Third didn't have a rampart to stand behind, and if the grimm reached the line, then it would be a bloody business, but if they could just keep the fire up, if they put out sufficient firepower to keep the grimm at bay, they would not only hold their own line but also secure the flank of the Fourth also. That was why, as the soldiers with rifles and light support weapons fired, the troops scrambled to set up their light machine guns and rocket launchers, adding their firepower to the storm while behind them the mortar crews began to set up too.

The grimm endured the fire, standing still, soaking up the bullets with their black mass, before the roar of a large alpha beowolf rallied them and they once again charged forwards, hoping to close the distance remaining between them and the Atlesians.

The soldiers fired, the Paladins fired — and loosed the missiles from their shoulder launchers too — the cruisers fired down from above, the mortars fired overhead, every weapon that could be brought to bear was fired into the attacking grimm.

Starlight fired too, holding down the trigger of Equaliser, bolt after blue bolt leaping from her rifle until it was out of power.

Starlight reached into one of the pouches at her belt for a new power pack. The big alpha, the one that had rallied the grimm, leapt out of the mass, bullets glancing off its armour as it bounded towards her.

Starlight shifted Equaliser into polearm mode. Trixie took a step forward, wand pointing towards the grimm.

There was a bang from behind the beowolf, a blast that made the grimm stagger. There was a second blast, and a third, and a fourth, and the alpha beowolf pitched forwards, collapsing on the ground.

And behind it stood—

Rarity gasped. "Sun?"

"Hey!" Sun said, waving one hand. He laughed nervously. "You guys sure do like your missiles and stuff, don't you? I swear, I thought you were gonna blow me up a couple of times getting over here."

"Sun?" Starlight cried.

"Who's this?" asked Sunburst.

"This is Blake's boyfriend," Rarity answered. "But what are you doing here, darling?"

"Come on, Rarity," Trixie said, stepping around Sun as he approached them to casually unleash a torrent of flame in the direction of the grimm. "You know exactly why he's here."

"I was with the Mistralians when I found out that the commander was planning to ambush the grimm but at the same time leave you guys hanging, without trying to, you know, form a line with you or whatever," Sun said. "And while I guess it made sense why she wanted to do it, just leaving you all — leaving Blake — with a chance the grimm might get around behind you didn't sit right with me, so I came to find you."

"So you … fought your way here through the grimm?" Sunburst exclaimed.

"Well, they weren't always coming this way," said Sun. "But if I'd gone the long way around, it would have taken too long."

Starlight fought the urge to roll her eyes. It was kind of … no, actually, there was no 'kind of' about it; it was very dumb. Sun was as dumb as a bag of hammers. Dumb … but at the same time, pretty sweet too.

And very brave, too.

Maybe you could do a little better, Blake, but you could sure do a whole lot worse.

But Trixie was right; it had been exactly what she thought.

"So," Sun went on, "is Blake around here?"

"Sorry, you just missed her," Starlight said. "She took off, literally, with Dash and Ciel on … well, I don't know, but it must be a special mission for the General."

"Oh," Sun said, looking a little deflated. Even his tail drooped down to the ground.

"Now, you could try and fight your way through the grimm again to try and catch up with their airship," Starlight said, switching Equaliser back into rifle mode and slapping in a fresh power pack. "But that might be a little too much even for you, and in the meantime, we could use your help right here if it's not too much trouble."

"Well, it's not like I've got anything better to do," Sun admitted, fitting his staff back together and twirling it in one hand. "What's up? We just trying to kill all the monsters?"

Starlight started firing again. "That's about the size of it, yeah."

"Cool," Sun replied. "Yeah, I think I can help with that."

XxXxX​

In front of Pyrrha stood a large fragment of wreckage, a slice of metal that had once formed part of the Dingyuan. Similar fragments of metal lay all around her, a few of them still smouldering but most of the fires having long since gone out. They formed a maze spreading across the battlefield, a labyrinth of twists and turns, where the debris and the armour plates and the occasional nigh-intact compartment formed the walls, and the space between the corridors. It was chaotic, and the opportunities to squeeze between the shards of debris could be far-between upon occasion, but while that meant it was easy to get separated — or to remain separated, should one wish to — that same tangled confusion, the same confinement, the same twists and turns meant that the grimm could not hurl themselves upon the huntsmen in a great horde as they had done, and with the huntsmen so much fewer in number than the grimm — and so superior in valour and in the quality of their weapons — it had seemed to Violet Valeria and Coco Adel alike that they had less to fear from plunging into the cauldron than from letting the grimm emerge from it and reorganise themselves.

And so Pyrrha stood, alone, her teammates having left her behind — the fact that they had done so for quite sensible reasons did not lessen her regret at the fact, nor erase her fear for them; she wished that Yang had never remembered the risk that the four then-team leaders had run at the beginning of the year — facing a large, squarish fragment of metal behind which, she was certain, lurked at least one grimm.

She could hear them snuffling, snarling, growling on the other side, out of sight but not out of hearing.

Pyrrha tightened her grip on Miló in sword form.

She let out a wordless shout of anger as she kicked the metal fragment hard enough to knock it down, causing at least one grimm to yelp with pain, possibly even fatally, as Pyrrha charged, her boots clattering on the metal, to engage the beowolves behind.

Her sash flew around her as Pyrrha spun, twirling on her toes, whirling around to slash in wide arcs, cutting through many grimm at once as they pressed close in the confined space. She slashed this way, reversed her blade and cut the other; she threw Akoúo̱ and sent a beowolf flying backwards; she switched Miló into spear mode and drove it through a grimm's mouth and out of its neck; she summoned her shield back onto her arm through a grimm that barred her way; she switched Miló into rifle mode and dispatched a creep with a single shot as it emerged from underneath the ground, then switched to sword again to deal three rapid blows to the chest of a beowolf trying to come up behind her. Red flowed behind and all around her as she danced amongst the grimm, too swift for them even with her movements somewhat confined, striking here and there and dealing death to them one after another.

There was only one left — an ursa, not a beowolf — but as Pyrrha lunged for it, Miló drawn back, the grimm stopped, twitching, jerking, yelping a little in alarm before being hauled backwards onto its back, paws and legs waving in the air.

Arslan leapt on it, one hand holding the rope of Nemean Claw, the other hand drawn back.

A single punch was all it took to shatter the ursa's skull and start its transformation into ashes.

Arslan looked up. "Impressive work."

"Thank you," Pyrrha murmured.

Arslan retrieved Nemean Claw, twirling it around one finger. "Of course, I can't help but notice that you're all alone—"

"I could say the same," Pyrrha pointed out.

Arslan smirked out of one corner of her mouth. "I suppose you could. I sent Bolin back to the camp to guard Reese and the other wounded. If we all die—"

"We aren't going to die."

"Then he'll die last, and doing something notable, and notably noble," Arslan went on, as though Pyrrha hadn't said anything. "They'll remember him, how he stood in defence of the wounded to the end. He'll like that."

"We're not all going to die," Pyrrha repeated.

"Well, I certainly hope not," Arslan agreed. "But fate may have other plans for us." She paused. "But anyway, I'm not alone anymore because I've found you."

Pyrrha smiled slightly. "Which surely means that I, too, am no longer alone."

"No, and a good thing too," Arslan replied. "Even the mightiest warrior can be brought down, by a single beowolf maybe, if she gets careless." Again, she paused. "But I've told you why I am — why I was — temporarily solitary, so how about you? How come I saw Jaune and Penny running off—"

"Jaune has not run away," Pyrrha said sharply. "None of them have. They … they've gone to try and find and kill the Apex Alpha who leads this horde."

Arslan's eyebrows rose. "They … right. I see."

"Do you?" Pyrrha asked. "Do you really?"

"Really?" Arslan repeated. "No, not really. Do they even know where to look?"

"Somewhere to the rear."

"A horde this big will have a big rear," Arslan pointed out.

"They thought, Yang thought and made the case persuasively," Pyrrha said, "that something needed to be done, or we should eventually succumb to the numbers of the grimm."

Arslan gave a slight nod of her head, so slight that Pyrrha wasn't sure whether she actually understood or not. "So," she said, "why didn't you go with them?"

Pyrrha fought the urge to pout. "Ruby thought that if I was seen leaving with them, you'd think that I was running away."

"Ruby said that? Ruby said that you had to stay behind while she dragged Jaune and Penny off on a do or die reenactment of the Red Lion's glory? Ruby needs to…" Arslan muttered. "Forget it. I mean, she's probably right, but even so … never mind; let's not get into that." She shook her head. "So how are you handling it?"

"I…" Pyrrha hesitated. "My heart is so full of fear that I am ashamed," she confessed. "I should have more confidence in them. In Jaune, in Penny, in Ruby and Yang, in all of them. I should have faith that they can do this without my help, and yet … I am full of fear."

"Don't beat yourself up for that; it's not like they're just going to … do some routine mission, of which I can't give an example because I haven't looked, but you know what I mean. What they're doing…" Arslan trailed off. "Sorry, I shouldn't add to your forebodings."

"No, indeed, I would rather you didn't," Pyrrha murmured. "I would rather you leave me to … distract myself."

"Leave you?" Arslan asked. "No, I won't leave you. But I might let you distract yourself at my side, seeing as how we are both not otherwise overburdened with companions right now."

"Very well," Pyrrha said at once. "Under different circumstances, I would like that. Under the present circumstances, I have no objection."

"Excellent," Arslan said, tossing Nemean Claw up into the air and catching it without even looking. "Then let us go and see what distraction we may find, 'til these new lions shall return."

XxXxX​

The airship was dark. Rainbow didn't have any of the lights on inside the Skyray, she was using her goggles to see by, with a little help from Blake's nightvision as she stood in the cockpit with her, hand resting on the back of Rainbow's chair as they both looked out at the grimm below.

So many of them.

It was a little inconvenient for Ciel, but first of all, she didn't need to see very much right now; second of all, she really wasn't the type to complain; and third of all, being eaten by a giant nevermore would be a lot more inconvenient for Ciel and everyone else than not being able to see inside the airship for a little bit, so … yeah, Ciel would just have to deal with it.

It was the grimm that had caused Rainbow to turn off all the lights and were prompting her to make as little noise as possible — the airship was practically silent, only the occasional rustle of a chair moving, the gentle scraping of the stick as Rainbow tugged it to this side or that; nobody was speaking, not even Midnight. It was all quiet and all dark. They were past the Atlesian front line, way past wherever the Mistralian front line was now, and if they got into trouble, then they couldn't count on hard-pressed Atlesian air support being available to them. Best, then, not to draw the attention of any grimm flying by, and while they might find a grimm drawn to them by their emotions alone — Rainbow was trying her best, as she was sure the other two were as well, but she couldn't stop a little flutter in her heart, considering everything — they were twice as likely to draw one lit up like the Longest Night decorations. Running dark might not keep them safe, but it would reduce their risks, if only a little.

So, lights off, nobody making a sound they could avoid — Ciel was particularly good at that; you'd never know she was there at all, sat somewhere in the back — they soared over the grimm horde as it advanced.

So many of them.

In the air, it was even clearer than it had been on the ground just how numerous the grimm were. Yes, Rainbow had known that it was a horde, but there were degrees of horde; the horde whose Apex Alpha Blake had helped to defeat with Sunset, Weiss, and Yang had been a very low level one, an agglomeration of packs and dens, but a very manageable force, one that the Valish Defence Force could have fended off if they had to — well, they'd thought that they could have; on the evidence of their actual performance, that might have been very optimistic of them. But this … this was something else altogether, something much, much bigger and much worse. If you had taken hordes like the one that Blake had encountered before, multiplied them, and joined all those hordes together, if you had added in a couple of groups of grimm the size of the one that had pursued them down the tunnel and tried to breach Vale from underground, then … you might still not have as many grimm as were bearing down on Vale right now. There were just so many.

Looking out of the cockpit window, looking down at the grimm … that was the point; she was looking down at the grimm not just because she was looking for her target but because grimm were all that she could see down there, covering the landscape as they moved forwards.

The standard method of operation for a horde was quite straightforward: they would send the small, weak grimm in first, to test the defences and the strength of the opposition, then the older, larger, wilier, and better protected grimm would go in afterwards and take advantage of any weaknesses or simply batter their way through any defence that was weak enough. This horde, these hordes plural — plural — were kind of following that same playbook, but as Rainbow flew overhead and looked down at the grimm underneath, it looked like they were running a variation on it in which waves of the smallest, youngest weakest grimm gave way to their more experienced cousins, but then once they were all dead, there would be another wave of the small and weak ones, then some more experienced ones again. It was like they were deployed to continuously probe at the defences, then launch a full assault; then, if that assault failed, there would be more probing, then another attack; waves of probe and attack, probe and attack.

Pretty smart really, and like the waves that ebbed and flowed, there was a chance that they would wear down the opposition through sheer erosion.

That was what the General was afraid would happen; that was why he'd sent them out here, on this mission to find the Apex Alpha commanding the horde, in the hope that if they could kill it, then some of the guiding intelligence behind this assault would vanish with its body.

They hadn't found it yet, but Rainbow hadn't given up. She had an idea, a rough idea anyway, of where to look.

The Apex Alpha was the commanding grimm, right? Which meant that they were, if not the grimm general — at least not in a situation where there were multiple hordes in play; Rainbow wondered how they were coordinating their attack, if they were coordinating; was there an apex amongst apexes? That was a worrying thought — then at least the grimm equivalent to Colonel Harper. So, with that in mind, where would a grimm who was commanding the assault be? Not on the front lines, that might get them killed, and the grimm didn't need a colonel like Colonel Harper to walk the line inspiring her soldiers with her courage under attack.

Not a frontline commander. A strategist then, and where would a strategist, someone looking at the big picture, someone deciding how to roll their attack forward, where would they place themselves?

At the rear, yes, where you could always find the boss of the horde, but more than that, somewhere they could see the battle unfolding and make their decisions, decide when to commit reserves and which reserves and … communicate that forward somehow; Rainbow wasn't quite sure how they did that. As far as she was aware, nobody was aware of how they did that. Perhaps Professor Port knew and you couldn't just tell amongst all the irrelevant stuff that he said in class.

Anyway, yes, not just at the rear, but somewhere from which they could see the battle — assuming they had sharp enough eyes. From the air, it would be trivial, and it might be that the Apex Alpha was a flier, but Rainbow was inclined to doubt that. Not to say it couldn't happen or never happened, but considering the way the flying grimm had been used so far … Rainbow could be wrong about this, but her gut told her that if a nevermore or a griffon or a teryx had been leading this attack, then the honour of the decisive blow would have gone to the airborne element. As it was, the fliers seemed to be there to tie up or try to take out the Atlesian air support, leaving a free hand for the ground element to do its thing. That was even the case on this side of the battlefield, where the fliers had a freer hand but weren't using it much.

So, her assumptions were that this was a grimm on the ground, but that it would be somewhere it could get a good view of the fighting across the battlefield. Since so much of this part of Vale was flat land, cultivated farm and pastureland stretching out from the city, that didn't leave very many options, but a few miles out from the city there was a hill, one that had gotten cut off from a longer spur of hills and valleys to the southeast of Vale that formed a kind of boundary to anyone coming up from that direction — like the mountains that marked the eastern frontier of the kingdom, only a lot smaller. This particular hill was called the Wreconsetun, and there was a CCT relay on it.

A relay that had gone dark and was refusing all of Rainbow's attempts to ping it.

Now, that might not mean anything, or it might mean nothing more than that the grimm had moved over the hill and torn the relay down, or it might mean that this thirteen-hundred-foot-high hill was a good vantage point to observe an attack rolling out across otherwise pretty flat land towards Vale.

So Rainbow was heading in that direction to check it out.

The interior of the Skyray remained quiet as Rainbow guided the airship in that direction. The only real light was the faint lavender light from the faceplate of the Knight autopilot, where Midnight was currently ensconced, waiting to take over the controls.

Rainbow was glad that she was restraining her eagerness.

As the airship flew towards the hill, Rainbow wondered what kind of grimm they might find when they got there. Probably a beowolf. A big beowolf but still … a beowolf. You didn't hear of many ursai leading hordes, for whatever reason. Perhaps for the same reason they didn't form big gangs. It could be something else, a rat king maybe — they were supposed to be quite smart — but at the same time, that might be good because they were also not that hard to kill; you just to had to sever the connection between all the stormvermin. They might even be able to do that with missiles from the air.

It would not be a creep, Rainbow was sure of that; the idea was almost too ridiculous to contemplate.

A goliath? Maybe, but Rainbow hoped not. The idea wasn't implausible — they often lived for a long time, they didn't pick fights they didn't think they could win, they were thought to be pretty smart even by grimm standards — but she hoped that it wasn't the case because an Apex goliath would be really, really hard to kill.

Although if we're talking about four-legged creatures giving orders…

The thought of some grimm alicorn, some monstrous Princess Celestia with bone plates and a bone crown issuing the orders, flitted across Rainbow's mind.

Nah, probably not.

It would be, she was mostly certain, a grimm that they had seen before. Unique grimm didn't tend to rise to leadership, as a rule, maybe because everyone thought they were a bit too weird. Or maybe because, being unique, they were inclined to be loners. Anyway, Vice Principal Luna had been wont to say that a horde would be led by one of the same kind of grimm that made up the horde, and that made sense as a general rule.

She'd also said that it wouldn't necessarily be one of the most common kinds of grimm in the horde, though, so not necessarily a beowolf.

If she was right in her instincts about where the Apex Alpha was, then they'd see what it was soon enough.

They were approaching the hill now, the hill with the name that Rainbow didn't really want to think about how it was pronounced. It wasn't big, not really, but it seemed big in comparison to all the flat land around it. It was also thickly forested, not so densely that nothing could move around there — although Rainbow had doubts that a goliath could find it comfortable without knocking over a lot of trees — but thickly enough that it was hard to see anything through the trees from the air.

They flew over what looked like the remains of a ditch, like the ones that the Atlesians had dug in front of their position; there wasn't a lot left, just occasional declines in the ground that didn't exactly seem natural, enough to make Rainbow wonder if this place had been fortified once upon a time. Must have been a long time ago, considering how overgrown it had gotten now.

There was no light from the CCT relay, which according to the map was an unmanned relay station, just a little tower that picked up signals from the main tower at Beacon and bounced them on across Vale to the south and east. Although it didn't bounce them so far that they could reach Mountain Glenn easily.

Hopefully, it wasn't a necessary relay, considering it wasn't broadcasting. There ought to have been physical light, which doubled duty as a warning to airships not to crash into the hill, as well as a ping to guidance systems. Neither was happening now, but with the help of her goggles and with Blake looking over her shoulder, Rainbow was fairly confident that she wasn't about to slam into the hillside as she flew over the forested hill.

She glanced around for any sign of nevermores or griffons. There was one, a nevermore that had just taken off from the top of the hill — now why would it want to do that? — but it was flying in the opposite direction to Rainbow's Skyray, turning in a wide arc across the sky before heading towards Vale and the battle raging in front of it. It didn't seem to see or notice them. Maybe it would have sensed their emotions, but one good thing about a battle going on was that the emotions of the battle itself must be overwhelming for the grimm, intoxicating for them, so much more potent than the feelings of three people in one airship, even if they were a little nervous.

The hill was roughly oval-shaped, except with rough edges that were kind of ragged, albeit covered up by the trees down at the bottom. But at the top of the hill, where it was crowned, the trees stopped, probably cut back the way that they'd been cut back along and couple of trails leading up to the top; the clearance was much more pronounced on one side, where the hill steeply fell away and you could stand and look out towards Vale itself, which was probably the point. The open space at the crown of the hill made it a lot easier to see what was there: the relay tower, damaged by the look of it but not completely destroyed; some old stone ruins, bits of wall and such; a small building, half-wrecked but modern-looking that Rainbow couldn't identify; and a lot of grimm gathered around the largest beringel that she'd seen.

This was the Apex Alpha; Rainbow would stake her life on it. It had the size for it, being at least twenty-five feet tall, even down on its knuckles, and while that wasn't much compared to a goliath, that was plenty for a lot of other grimm. On top of which, its arms were larger than most of the trees on this hill, and its chest looked as broad or broader than the Skyray which carried them. The beringel was nearly all white, so covered in armour plates that there was barely any black visible underneath, and in fact, it was covered with plate that its armour had started to grow spikes: spikes on the shoulders, and on top of the beringel's head, there was what looked like a bone helmet with four horns emerging out of it, two curling up and around like a bull's horns, the others sticking out on either side, almost more like stag's antlers. As it raised one hand to gesture outwards, Rainbow could see — or thought that she could see; it was a little hard to tell in the dark, even with her goggles on — that it had spikes on its knuckles too, like a knuckleduster.

An enormous axe sat beside the beringel, buried in the ground by the blade. It looked, as far as Rainbow could make out from up here, like a jagged piece of metal from an airship or something strapped to a really big piece of wood. Even if the grimm had had to scavenge for metal, it was impressive that they'd been able to make the weapon at all; most grimm didn't bother.

But then, this beringel wasn't the only one that was armed. It was attended by a dozen beringels, smaller and less well-armoured, but at least half of them had some kind of stick or spear in their hands. A few large beowolves, who might have been alphas of their own packs, prowled around; they weren't armed, and sometimes, they dropped to all fours instead of standing upright.

A group of grimm stood in front of the big beringel: a griffon, two beowolves, an ursa, and a cyclops. They weren't exactly kneeling, but they were all acting submissive towards it, heads bowed, backs bent, not looking at the big guy, that kind of thing. There was no doubt who was in charge.

There was … there was the remains of something in the beringel's mouth; something hanging out of it. Rainbow found herself glad that she couldn't really make out what it was.

She wished she couldn't imagine what it was either.

The beringel was addressing the grimm gathered around it, gesturing with one hand, mouth moving as it pointed towards Vale. Rainbow had no idea what it was telling them, except that it had to be the next phase of the attack plan.

Hopefully, that plan would fall to pieces once they killed this thing.

And then Penny and the others would have an easier time of it.

Because if they failed…

Can't think about that right now. I need to stay focussed.

Rainbow turned the airship away momentarily, so that they didn't come so close that they could be spotted by the grimm on the ground, and as she turned, she glanced over her shoulder and hissed, "Ciel! Ciel, come here."

Ciel's feet shuffled a little as she approached. Blake stepped fully into the cockpit, standing between Rainbow and Midnight's temporary body, so that Ciel could stand where Blake had just been standing, over Rainbow's shoulder.

Rainbow kept her voice low as she turned the Skyray around, bringing it full circle so that Ciel could see the beringel the way that Blake and Rainbow had already seen it. Ciel already had her visor on — it was glowing blue in the dark cockpit — so she'd be able to see what was on top of the hill as well, at least out of one eye.

"Lady have mercy on a poor soul," Ciel murmured, telling Rainbow what she thought about the object coming out of the beringel's mouth.

"Does anyone disagree that that is our mission objective?" Rainbow asked, keeping her voice soft.

Nobody replied, which Rainbow took for agreement.

"Okay," Rainbow went on. "Here is the plan: Ciel, you'll stay in the Skyray and provide fire support. I want you to focus on the bodyguards, clear a path for us and make sure that we don't get too many grimm in our way."

"Understood," Ciel said.

"Midnight, you'll be flying the airship. Keep her steady for Ciel, unless you get directly attacked, in which case, take evasive action. You can also support with the Skyray's missiles, but watch for friendly fire."

"You can count on me, Rainbow Dash," Midnight said, sounding a little more serious than usual.

Rainbow breathed in and out. "Which means, Blake, you and I are going down there to deal with the Apex Alpha itself. While Ciel watches our backs, we'll take out the big guy. It won't be easy, but if you can keep it distracted, then if I put enough aura into it, I should be able to break its skull. It looks too strong to restrain with ice, so focus on using fire clones to do damage if you can. How are you fixed for dust?"

"I haven't used much of it so far," Blake said. "So I'm good."

"Excellent," Rainbow replied. "There are some grenades in the back if you want them; I'll be taking some myself." She paused for a half a second as she started to unbuckle herself from her seat. "Is everyone ready?"

Before anyone could answer, Rainbow caught sight of something coming towards them out of the corner of her eye: a tree, spinning in the air as it was hurled straight at the cockpit.

"Hold on!" Rainbow shouted, yanking the control stick hard to the right and down, sending the Skyray into a steep, sharp dive that knocked Ciel into her and sent Blake scrabbling to hold onto something.

The tree flew over the Skyray, missing them.

The beringel, the big beringel, the Apex Alpha, opened its mouth and beat its armoured chest; Rainbow couldn't hear it, but she imagined that it was roaring at them. All the other grimm on the hilltop were turned towards them — the bodyguards and the officers, for want of a better term — all looking upwards at the Skyray, which, dark or not, was now revealed to them.

"Okay, this is it!" Rainbow yelled. "Midnight, you've got the controls."

"Affirmative," Midnight said, her voice still serious and earnest, lacking the snide or playful inflections that Rainbow had come to expect. The Skyray levelled off, and tracer rounds began to leap from the rotary cannons — not a Tempest cannon, unfortunately; this wasn't the Bus; just a pair of twin-linked triple-barrelled Hailstorms — down onto the bald hilltop.

Ciel was the first one out of the cockpit, Distant Thunder beginning to unfold in her hands even as the side door slid open. Rainbow and Blake followed her.

The door on the side of the Skyray opened, and the three huntresses stood there, looking down on the hilltop, the wind whipping around them, carrying the cries and roars of the grimm up towards them.

The griffon took off, spreading its black wings out on either side, white beak open, white claws outstretched.

Ciel's right foot shuffled backwards, her body turning as she raised Distant Thunder to her shoulder. She fired, the rifle booming. The griffon rolled aside, screeching.

Ciel worked the bolt. The spent cartridge hit the floor with a thud, then bounced away out the open side of the Skyray, falling down into the darkness.

Her eyes began to glow a brighter blue before she fired again, Distant Thunder roaring. This time, she did not miss.

The screech of the griffon was abruptly cut off as half its head disappeared in a shower of white bone; the black body began bulging out from the side as though an explosion had gone off within it, and the lifeless remains fell smoking down towards the ground.

Ciel worked the bolt, ejected the cartridge — this one rolled inwards inside the Skyray — and chambered a new round. She fired a third shot, and the Apex Alpha shuddered a little, one shoulder shaking, but it didn't otherwise look harmed.

"Unfortunate," Ciel murmured. "But worth a try, was it not?"

"Sure, that would have been really convenient," Rainbow said. "But remember—"

"From now on, my trigger will pull only for the bodyguards," Ciel said. "I understand. Lady go with you."

"Blake?"

"Ready," Blake said.

"Then let's go," Rainbow said, as the two of them leapt from the Skyray, leaving Ciel alone with only Midnight at the controls for company.

Rainbow caught Blake by the waist as she fell — she was sure her landing strategy was fine for this, but she wanted to bring them in a little closer — as the Wings of Harmony unfurled, clanking and clicking as the two huntresses descended until, fully unfurled on either side of her, they caught the air currents, and the engine flared to push them closer to the top of the hill and their waiting target.

The Apex Alpha grabbed another tree from the far side of the hill, where they had been allowed to encroach closer to the top, and threw it at Rainbow and Blake. Rainbow rolled away, spinning in the air, Blake's long hair getting in her face a little bit until she righted the two of them, the tree having missed.

One of the bodyguard beringels stepped forward, up on its hind legs, spear drawn back—

There was a boom from Distant Thunder, and a hole appeared in the beringel's chest. It fell backwards, spear dropping from between its lifeless fingers.

Rainbow dropped Blake, judging the two of them were close enough now, and folded up the Wings of Harmony on her back before she, too, fell straight downwards, feet first.

She had set them down on the edge of the trees, just before they opened up to the crown of the hill, just beyond where all the grimm were gathered; the hill sloped downwards and away behind her, rolling down towards the flat ground that lay between here and Vale; a dirt trail ran down, snaking between the trees slightly, hard to spot at times because of the way that weeds and plants were reclaiming it for themselves.

And just ahead of them lay the hilltop and the grimm.

Rainbow couldn't quite see the Apex Alpha from where she was now, but she could hear it bellowing, and from below, down at the bottom or the slopes of the hill, she could hear answering roars from grimm … units, if you wanted to call them that, concealed or in reserve or whatever, ready to defend their leader.

They would need to wrap this up quick and get out of here.

Rainbow started up the hill, her trainers kicking dirt and loose twigs back down behind her.

A beringel — not their target, one of its bodyguards — smashed a slender tree aside as it leapt at her, bellowing in fury. It drew back one enormous fist as it flew through the air.

Rainbow let it come, standing her ground; then, as the beringel closed in, about to land, throwing its first towards her face to send her flying down the hill, Rainbow twisted, turning in place on her toes and reaching out — her hands and arms shimmered with a little rainbow light — to grab the beringel's wrist as its hand flew past her face.

Rainbow grunted, gritting her teeth, muscles bulging on her arms as she completed the turn, facing down the hill, and with a heave and a great effort and a touch more aura to her arms, she threw the still-shouting beringel over her shoulder and down the slope.

Several unfortunate trees were shattered to splinters as the beringel crashed through them, rolling along the ground, crushing plants and fallen logs beneath it before the grimm managed to bring itself to a stop. It scrambled up onto all fours, growling, eyes blazing like charging lasers.

Blake fired, Gambol Shroud snapping repeatedly as she shot the beringel — with fire dust rounds. The night was lit up as the grimm's side and back and left arm caught fire. The beringel hooted, waving its arm, shaking, beating at its own shoulder with its other hand.

Rainbow closed in, a rainbow trailing behind her as she descended the hill, pulled Undying Loyalty over her shoulder, and shoved it into the beringel's open mouth.

She fired. The beringel shuddered but didn't die. Rainbow pumped the shotgun and fired again before the grimm could respond, and this second shot did the trick: there was a little explosion of black grimm essence out the back of its head before the grimm toppled backwards.

Rainbow turned once more to see two big beowolves start to lope into the trees. Distance muted the sound of Distant Thunder, but it didn't stop one beowolf's head exploding even as the other ran towards Blake.

Blake stood still. The beowolf swiped at her with one long set of claws, only for Blake's clone to dissolve into shadow, revealing the real Blake behind the grimm, slinging her hook into its shoulder.

Blake hauled back on the black ribbon, but the beowolf responded by pitching itself forwards, bending over double, hunching its shoulders, lowering its centre of mass so that Blake couldn't so easily pull it off balance and backwards.

Blake hauled, but the beowolf dug its claws into the earth and didn't budge.

Then it lunged forwards, bounding on all fours down the hill, dragging Blake off balance and onto her face as she was pulled by her own ribbon down the slope.

The beowolf turned, rising onto its hind legs. Rainbow intercepted it, leaping up into the air as she closed the distance to whack the beowolf across the face with the butt of Undying Loyalty. She landed on the ground and hit the beowolf again, this time in the chest about as high as she could reach, making it stagger backwards.

She reversed her shotgun and shot it in the foot, where there wasn't much armour. The beowolf growled as it dropped to one knee, letting Rainbow quickly reach out and pull Blake's black hook free before she made to hit the grimm again in the face with her shotgun.

The beowolf caught the blow with one paw, its forearm quivering, but Rainbow's blow stopped in its tracks. Long claws like swords closed around the shotgun barrel.

The beowolf bared its teeth at her, but Rainbow threw her head forwards and headbutted the grimm before it could plant its teeth around her face. With her free hand, she drew Plain Awesome and fired upwards into the beowolf's throat and lower jaw, even as she headbutted the grimm for a second time.

The beowolf's grip around Undying Loyalty loosed, and Rainbow kicked the beowolf backwards, off the ground, sending it flying down the hill, all four legs flailing.

Blake appeared behind the grimm, Gambol Shroud in sword mode, striking from behind with blade and cleaver in perfect unison to cut the beowolf cleanly in half.

Distant Thunder fired again, though Rainbow didn't see the results.

She ran up the hill, trusting Blake to follow her, and she emerged onto the top of the hill just in time for another beringel to throw a spear at her. Rainbow dodged it, swaying out of the way to let the spear fly past her even as the beringel who had thrown the spear charged, beating its fists against its chest.

The beringel was pulled up short as a flurry of blades on wires buried themselves in its back.

The wires yanked the grimm backwards, across the hilltop towards … Penny?

XxXxX​

The armoured car's headlights were on, lighting up a little bit of the ground — not road, just grass — in front of them; it would have lit up any grimm who were in front of them too, but they'd been lucky that way so far, not having run into any. That was probably at least a little because of the way that they'd been careful to keep out of the way, going quite wide away from where all the grimm seemed to be being pulled towards the fighting with the Beacon and Haven students, but also it probably had at least something to do with Ren.

At least, Jaune assumed that Ren was doing something, using his semblance; Yang had asked him to, when a nevermore had flown overhead a little too close for comfort, and Ren had closed his eyes like he was meditating or falling asleep, and then … well, and then, Jaune wasn't quite sure what was happening. He thought that Ren must be using his semblance, but he had no idea how to tell if he was or not. Or if it was only possible to tell.

"You know," he said, "I thought that this might feel … different."

Ren opened his eyes. "My semblance masks emotions; it doesn't change them. Your feelings are your own; I only hide from the grimm." He paused. "Think of it like tofu in sauce. The tofu will still have a tofu taste no matter how much katsu sauce you slather over it; the only difference is what the eater tastes, not the internal properties of the tofu itself."

"Tofu, blegh," Nora said. "Give me some chicken any day."

Ren glanced at her. One corner of his mouth twitched up.

Nora smiled. "How's your aura holding up?"

"I'm fine," Ren told her. "This car isn't so large, and its passengers aren't so numerous."

"Are you sure you don't want a boost?" Jaune said, holding up one hand.

Ren shook his head. "You should save your strength. There may be others who need it more than I do before our task is complete."

Jaune nodded. Ren knew his own aura levels best, he was sure.

A momentary silence fell in the armoured car, disturbed only by the rumbling of the vehicle itself as it devoured the ground beneath it, heading … well, that was the thing, wasn't it? They weren't exactly sure where they were heading — where they ought to be going.

They were heading around the grimm horde, hoping to come up behind it, and then … then they also hoped to figure it out from there.

Jaune glanced around the car. Penny and Yang were up front, their backs to him, Yang's long yellow hair spilling out on either side of her, Penny's shorter copper hair mostly hidden by the seat rest. Ruby, Ren, and Nora were in the back with him. Ruby was looking down at Crescent Rose, and with one hand, she lightly stroked the silver rose that she wore at her belt.

Without looking directly at Ren, Nora reached out gingerly for his hand.

Ren shifted his hand slightly, so that Nora's fingertips brushed against his knee.

Nora's face fell.

Jaune frowned. He understood that it wasn't the best time right now, but at some point, Ren would either have to give Nora something or tell her straight up that there was nothing to give; things couldn't go on like this forever without someone getting hurt.

He also couldn't understand why Ren would want to let things go on like this. He almost certainly had his reasons — Jaune certainly hoped that he did — but Jaune couldn't work out what they were.

However, as much as clearing the air between the two of them might help in the long run, Ren was right that now wasn't the time. And so, Jaune changed the subject, or went back to the old subject after a break. "So, when you mask all our emotions, from the grimm … can you feel what we're feeling when you do it?"

Ren hesitated for a moment. "To an extent," he admitted. "It's not clear, I can't feel every emotion that everyone in this car is experiencing, but I can get some broad strokes." He paused. "To tell you the truth, I'm somewhat in awe of you."

Jaune blinked. "You … you are? You're in awe?" Nobody had … well, Dove had come close, but that was entirely because of his relationship with Pyrrha; nobody had ever said that they were in awe of him for him before. He couldn't think why.

"You're not in the least afraid," Ren said. "You don't feel any fear at all."

Jaune's eyes narrowed. "I think your semblance might be acting up a little … and you're messing with me, aren't you?"

Ren continued to stare at him, his expression the very definition of 'deadpan.'

Nora reached up and pinched his face. "I've told you before, Ren, you need to give a bit of a clue when you're having fun with someone. Just smile a little or something."

Ren pulled his face away. "Yes," he admitted. "Yes, you have. I'm sorry to disappoint you, Jaune, but you're as nervous as anyone here, although understandably so, in the circumstances." He glanced at Ruby. "Ruby, on the other hand."

Ruby looked up from Crescent Rose, although she didn't stop stroking the rose on her belt. "What do we have to be afraid of?" she asked softly.

Nora's eyebrows rose. Jaune's felt the urge to do the same, but they were too weighed down by his embarrassment. He could feel his cheeks beginning to turn pink.

"I think that was a little mean," Penny said.

"It was all in good fun!" Nora declared. "Jaune knows Ren didn't mean anything by it, right, Jaune?"

"I … yeah," Jaune said quietly. "Yeah, of course I know that." He could still feel his cheeks burning nonetheless. "I … I'm just gonna take a look…" He trailed off as he stood up, sticking his head up out of the hole in the armoured car roof.

The machine gun sat in front of him, although Jaune didn't pay it much attention; there wasn't a lot of need for it, and if there was a need for it, then he would probably sit down again and let someone more qualified handle the shooting. Like Nora — she seemed to know her way around guns — or Ruby, whose aim wouldn't be thrown off by fear.

He wasn't jealous. That wasn't what this was about; he wasn't surprised to be told that he was afraid — he knew that he was nervous; he could feel it himself – he wasn't envious of Ruby's fearlessness — good on her, but Jaune wasn't ashamed of the way he felt. He wasn't even … okay, he was a little annoyed to have his chain yanked by Ren that way, but what really bothered him, the thing that was making his face flush, the reason he was sticking his head out of this hatch so that nobody else could see it was the fact that, after a year here, he was still getting treated like the butt of the joke.

Albeit by teams other than his own. The fact that Penny had stood up for him was nice of her, and he thought that Pyrrha would have done the same if she were here. She would have stood up for him and tried to find something to say to make him feel better; it might not have worked, but she would have tried, if she'd been here.

But she wasn't here. He'd left her behind.

The night air was cool on Jaune's face. He glanced in front of them, to where the ground was illuminated by the headlights; there wasn't much in front of them; it looked like farmland: harvested farmland, with no crops, just plough marks in the soil where the earth had been tilled. They must have begun planting again after the harvest. He tried to consider what they might be growing, but his thoughts were too heavy to admit distractions like that, and Jaune found his eyes turned northwards, to where some traces of the fire from the wreck of the Dingyuan still burned.

To where Pyrrha was, fighting, alone.

Alone with a whole bunch of Haven and Beacon students, alone with Arslan Altan, alone with the Mistralian forces providing covering fire, but still, in spite of all of that and all of them, alone.

Without him, without Penny, without Sunset. Alone.

"See anything?"

Jaune looked down. Nora was clinging to the outside of the car, arms resting on the roof, hands gripped around a couple of metal brackets directly above the doors. It looked a little uncomfortable, but despite that, Nora didn't seem uncomfortable, somehow.

"Uh, no," Jaune admitted. "No, I can't say that I have."

"Makes sense," Nora said as she pulled herself up onto the roof. Her legs kicked up and down at the air as she scrambled up, until finally, she was sitting on the roof, next to Jaune, her back turned to the front of the armoured car and the ground they drove over.

With one hand, she reached out and ran her fingers through Jaune's long blond hair.

Jaune recoiled, as much as the small hatch allowed. "Hey!"

"Sorry," Nora said. "I just … sorry." She paused for a moment. "I'm sorry about … I guess Ren can be a little mean."

"It's fine," Jaune said quickly.

"It can't be that fine, or you wouldn't be out here," Nora pointed out. "Ren didn't mean to … be mean. He didn't mean to make you feel bad; he just … Ren doesn't really get people, you know. How we feel, why we feel. Ren is … complicated that way. It's nothing personal."

"Right," Jaune murmured, not entirely convinced. Would Ren have really done that to anyone else?

Nora shrugged, as if, having said her piece, Jaune could take it or leave it. "So is it her or you?"

"Huh?"

"Who are you nervous about?" Nora asked. "Pyrrha, or you?"

Jaune hesitated for a moment, looking away from Nora again, towards where the fires still burned, to where the battle must have started again. "Pyrrha," he admitted. "I know that must sound really stupid, but—"

"No," Nora said. "No, it doesn't sound stupid at all. Because you've got Penny here, and all of us, and Pyrrha's got … who?"

Jaune closed his eyes for a moment. "Right," he said. "If anything … I'd rather die out here than come back and find that she wasn't there, because…"

Nora nodded. "If it helps," she said, "Pyrrha probably feels the same way about you."

Jaune looked at her. "How is that supposed to help?"

Nora hesitated for a second. "Well," she said, "because—"

"What was that?" Jaune said, pointing out to the north-west of them.

Nora twisted around. "What was what?"

"That, there!" Jaune cried, pointing even more insistently, jabbing his finger. It was hard to make out, but it looked like it was a nevermore with something … it was so hard to make out in the dark; he'd already lost sight of— "There!" Jaune yelled as it passed in front of the moon, the grimm silhouetted. Silhouetted, too, the object writhing and wriggling in its talons like a worm.

But it wasn't a worm; it was a person.

"I see it too," Nora said. "It's got somebody!"

"Yeah," Jaune murmured. "Yeah, it has."

He ducked down inside the armoured car, kneeling down in between the two front seats, his hands resting on them. "Did you guys see that?"

"See what?" asked Yang.

"The nevermore, up there," Jaune said, pointing out the windscreen and upwards.

"I—" Yang began, before the nevermore flitted away, out of the light of the moon. "It's gone."

"I can still see it," Penny said. "It looks as if it's got somebody, although I can't tell who."

"That's what I thought as well," Jaune said.

Yang glanced at him. "So what, you want to try and rescue them?"

"No," Jaune said. "Well, yeah, that would be great, but I thought, where is that nevermore taking them, whoever they are? And why?"

"I'm guessing you've got an answer," Yang said.

"Where do birds bring worms and stuff?" asked Jaune.

"To their nests," answered Yang.

"Exactly," said Jaune. "To feed others."

There was a moment of quiet in the rumbling armoured car.

"You think that the nevermore is bringing someone to the Apex Alpha … to feed them?" asked Ren.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?" Jaune asked, looking at Ren over his shoulder. "I mean they aren't just carrying a person around in their claws for the fun of it, and if they wanted to eat them, they could have done it already."

"Yeah, it makes sense," Yang said. She tapped her hands on the steering wheel. "It does make sense. It makes a nasty kind of sense, but it makes sense. Penny, can you still see that nevermore?"

"Yes," Penny said. "Although it's going down now."

"'Down'?" Yang asked. "Where?"

"That hill," Penny said, pointing to a barely visible looming shape in the darkness, a shadow that was almost impossible to make out except for the way that the sky seemed to abruptly stop, blocked out by it. "I don't know what it's called."

"If it's the one I think it is," Ruby said, getting up and moving forward; Jaune got out of her way so that she could take his place, standing between the two front seats. "Yes, that's Wreconsetun. There used to be a fortress there, built by King Tristan during Percy's War."

"A fort, huh?" Nora said, using the top hatch to scramble back inside the car from the rooftop. She fell through it, landing in the middle of the vehicle with a soft thump. She looked up. "Sounds like it could have done with one of those up there still."

Ruby shook her head. "We're talking about the really old days here, before Vale, or at least before a Vale that controlled everything that we now call Vale. The fort was built to defend the city against attack from other kingdoms, not from grimm, just like the old forts on the hills to the southeast of here. The obstacle to the grimm were — are — the hills themselves."

"They didn't work this time," Nora pointed out.

No, but I guess Salem isn't really that concerned most of the time, Jaune thought. She just really wants this attack to happen.

"A hill," Yang murmured. "With an old fort on it, so … it's high, right? We're not just talking about some bump in the landscape. Yeah, I can see that."

"You think that's where we'll find the Apex Alpha?" asked Penny.

"I think it makes as much sense as anywhere else we could look, and at least it gives us a direction to go in," Yang said. "Okay, let's check it out."

She twisted the steering wheel, turning the armoured car in the direction of the looming dark hill that lay ahead of them. It was still hard to make out, but as Yang accelerated their vehicle — making it rattle and rumble as it rushed across the tilled earth, disturbing the careful plough lines down the fields — the dark shape of their destination grew larger and larger in the windscreen.

Yang drove through a fence and into a field which turned out to be full of cows which mooed as they got of out of the way; she crashed through the fence on the other side too and drove through a hedge for good measure, sticks and leaves and brambles piling up on top of the bonnet before Yang got the armoured car onto a road leading — according a sign — up to the Wreconsetun.

There was no sign of any grimm; Ren's semblance, it seemed, was continuing to keep them at bay. Jaune didn't think they'd be so lucky as to find that the Apex Alpha had sent them all off to fight, leaving itself undefended.

Yeah, there's no way we'd be that lucky.

The road wound upwards, curving a bit, until it came to a stop at what seemed to be more or less the foot of the hill — maybe a little higher than that, but not much — at a car park outside what looked to be, or looked as though it had been, a visitor centre.

Had been before the grimm had come through here. The welcome sign had been chewed through, and only the letters 'WEL' and then 'WREO' on the line below told Jaune that it had been a welcome sign. The wood cabin, that put Jaune in mind of Benni Havens', had been torn down, with only the front wall really left standing. The machine to pay for the car park had been devoured, although they'd left a green plastic collection box alone, just like they'd left the toilets.

"Does anyone want to go quickly?" asked Yang as she got out of the armoured car.

Everyone looked at her.

Yang shut the door. "I was just trying to lighten the mood a little, come on!" She shook her head. "Anyway," she went on, looking up the hill. The road had stopped here, and the hill looked heavily wooded; there was a path setting off into the woods and up the hill, but it was a narrow path, too narrow for the car for sure. "Looks like we're walking from here."

Everyone got out their weapons. Ruby kept Crescent Rose in carbine mode, rather than unfurling her scythe, probably because it looked a little tight between those trees. Nora, on the other hand, unfolded her hammer and rested it on her shoulder. Ren's Stormflowers dropped out of his sleeves. Penny's swords floated around her. Jaune drew his sword and unfolded his shield.

Yang pumped her arms, causing her Ember Celica to expand up her forearms, ready to fire.

"Okay," she said. "I'll lead, then Ren and Nora, Ruby in the middle, Jaune and Penny bringing up the rear. Let's keep it tight and keep it quiet, okay? There's probably some grimm around here that we can't see. Ren, how's your aura?"

"I'm fine," Ren said, but he sounded a little bit tired while he said it.

"Jaune," Yang said. "Can you give him a little bit of a touch?"

"Sure," Jaune murmured. Ren didn't protest as Jaune put his hand on the other boy's shoulder, a faint golden light shimmering around Jaune's hand, gradually spreading out across Ren's shoulder, across his face and eventually over his entire body.

The shimmering light didn't engulf him very long; just a touch, Yang had said, and so Jaune only held onto Ren for a second, just boosting his aura back up a little bit, before he took his hand away, the golden light of his semblance fading from both of them.

But Ren straightened his back, and sounded a little fresher as he murmured. "Thank you."

"Let's move," Yang said; she turned away, her white skirt bouncing a little bit as she led them up the dirt trail that climbed the hill.

It wasn't always easy going; Jaune found that his trainers sometimes slipped on the dirt, struggling to find a purchase on the soft, uneven surface where things would roll or shift under his feet, not to mention the stones that actually got into his shoes and constantly reminded him that they were there and that there was nothing — short of stopping and taking his trainers off, which he couldn't really do — he could do about them. He was glad that it was only Penny behind him to see him sometimes struggling, although he was sure the others must have heard him sometimes. But they didn't say anything, just like Penny didn't say anything even when she had to give him a helping hand. She smiled, as though he was happy to help him, happy to stop him from slipping down the path, happy to help him up. Maybe she was; she didn't seem like the kind to pretend.

With Penny's help, and with a lot of determination, Jaune made sure that, although he might fall a little behind sometimes, he never lost sight of the others up ahead. He always kept Ruby's red cloak, that swayed a little from side to side, in his view; despite the darkness, he was sure to stick close enough, or to get back close enough, that he could see it in front of him.

It really was dark here; it wasn't as though there were any lights in this forest on this hill, and the trees were good at blocking out the moonlight. There were times when Jaune was as much fumbling his way as seeing it, straying off the path to grab hold of trees, hauling himself from tree to tree up the hillside, using the roots as steps from which his feet wouldn't slip. What he could see in the moonlight was mostly trees, trees that seemed to get closer around them, assuming strange shapes like they'd become grimm themselves, reaching out towards them with crooked arms and outstretched fingers.

They weren't silent, there was too much scuffling and shuffling and muttering — Jaune wasn't the only one who couldn't always keep his footing; he thought that Nora was having some trouble as well sometimes — not to mention a little bit of thumping and bumping too for that, but they were pretty quiet. They didn't talk; instead, they listened for the sound of grimm nearby. They didn't hear them; instead, they heard owls screeching in the trees and quiet creatures scratching and scrambling somewhere off in the darkness. A nightingale sang, somewhere in the trees, and turned Jaune's thoughts once more towards Pyrrha, fighting alone somewhere far away from him.

Take care of yourself, Pyrrha.

To distract himself from his concern, Jaune tried to imagine what this place might look like in the daylight. Not too bad, he was sure, or else … well, if nobody came up here, then what would be the point of a visitor centre? Perhaps he and Pyrrha could come back here together, one day, when all this was over. It would still be as much of a hike in daylight, but if he could see where he was going, then it wouldn't be so bad, and Pyrrha would devour the climb, he was sure. They could pack a lunch and have a picnic on top of the hill, with a lovely view of Vale spread out beneath them.

That sounded quite nice, didn't it?

A grimm bellowed ahead of them, shattering the quiet of the night, silencing owls and nightingales and everything else. It was a loud roar, so loud that Jaune thought that it must have come from a pretty big grimm to make a noise like that.

Like the grimm they'd come here to kill. But what had gotten it so agitated all of a sudden?

The question was answered by a gunshot, a familiar sounding … Jaune was sure that he'd heard that before, but—

"That's Distant Thunder," Ruby said. "That's Ciel's rifle."

"Ciel?" Penny asked.

The same gun fired again, joined by another gun, firing rapidly, that didn't stir a memory in Jaune's ears.

"You're right, it is Distant Thunder," Penny said. "But why? Is Ciel the one who—?"

Grimm started roaring on all sides, roaring from down the hill, howling from out of the trees, and amongst the howling, there was more shooting; the grimm made it hard to make out the gunshots exactly, but Jaune could certainly hear some shooting, even if he couldn't tell who or what.

"Whoever it is, sounds like they've started the party without us," Yang said. "Ren, stop masking us and conserve your aura, because we're about to make ourselves known in a big way. Now let's move!"

They started to run, scrambling up the hill; Jaune dug his sword into the earth to support himself as he ran up the slope, dodging between the trees, trying to keep up with the others. Ruby took the lead, although she seemed to be only mildly using her semblance — Jaune hardly saw any rose petals at all; she must not have wanted to get too far ahead and find herself all alone. Yang was next, although she had to get on all fours sometimes and scramble up on her hands and knees, then Ren, while Nora fell a little bit behind, closer to Jaune. Penny still brought up the rear; though she seemed to be trying to outpace Jaune, the length of her legs was making it hard for her.

Regardless, though some of them found it harder to make the final run than others, they did all make it, pounding up the path, footsteps hammering dirt and stones and twigs underfoot until they emerged from the trees into a clearing that marked the top of the hill, where a steep cliff fell away down one side, and old ruins sat alongside new buildings — another toilet, by the looks of it, as well as a dark CCT relay tower — under the moonlight. The path broadened out and got easier, and now, on the last stretch of the sprint up, Penny did overtake Jaune as they ran to the top of the hill to find a huge beringel, its whole body covered with armour, an axe buried in the ground — an axe? An axe? Where did it get an axe from? — behind it, directing the fight against … Rainbow Dash?

XxXxX​

Penny was here.

Penny was here?

Penny was — you know what, fine, Penny was here; the more the merrier.

And to think we came here to save you.

Penny was hit by an ursa, hurled by the Apex Alpha beringel. She was borne backwards, pinned beneath the massive weight of the grimm which roared as it started to pick itself up.

Maybe I still can save you.

Rainbow ran towards her, a rainbow trailing out behind her. A beringel got in her way, the same beringel that Penny had impaled with her swords but which seemed now to be both free of the swords and not yet dead. Rainbow jumped, kicking off the ground, firing Undying Loyalty as she did so. It didn't kill the beringel, but it did bother it at least, and while it was recoiling from the shot, Rainbow's jump had carried her over the grimm's head and behind it. She charged for the ursa.

Ruby — okay, Ruby was here too — had gotten there before her, unfurling her scythe and stabbing it down into the ursa's back between two of its large bone spurs. Ruby pulled, either trying to cut the grimm or pull it off Penny, but not quite managing either one, though she hauled at it with all that she had, her arms straining.

Yang threw herself at the ursa as well, punching it in the face repeatedly, shots firing from her gauntlets as she pounded the ursa with uppercut after uppercut, trying not just to kill the ursa but in the meantime to make sure that it was never in a position to bite down on Penny.

Rainbow closed the distance, shoved Undying Loyalty into the ursa's backside, and pulled the trigger.

The ursa's wincing yelp of pain was louder than the roar of Yang's gauntlets as it stumbled forwards, pushing Yang backwards with sheer force even if it did get off of Penny a little.

Ruby extracted her scythe from out of the black flesh, spinning, reversing the blade before, as the ursa tried to rise onto its hind legs, cutting up to slice the edge into its neck.

Ruby pulled, and this time, the scythe blade went cleanly through the ursa's neck and cut off its head.

The headless ursa fell, still partly on top of Penny.

Ruby and Yang set to digging her out, but Rainbow had other problems, like the beringel, still alive, that nearly managed to grab her from behind. Rainbow slipped out of its fumbling grasp, turning to face it once again.

The beringel assumed a boxing stance, hands up, fists clenched, protecting its face from attack. It was such a surprising sight that the beringel almost got Rainbow with the first punch, she barely dodged it. She was better prepared for the second, and the third, giving up ground, swaying at the hips to let the punches fly past her. On the other blow, letting Undying Loyalty fall to the ground, Rainbow stepped forward, inside the beringel's guard, her own fists clenching as she hit it square in the face once, twice, three times, four times, no way this grimm could take much more—

The beringel bent over, wrapping its arms around Rainbow as it got her in a clinch. Rainbow's aura flared as the beringel squeezed her.

It wasn't as tight as the goliath's trunk. but it was still going to wear away at her aura if it kept up, and it had just made itself harder to hit.

Harder, but not impossible.

Rainbow clasped her hands together and brought them down in an axe blow onto the small of the beringel's back; she didn't make much of an aura boom, more of an aura suppressed gunshot, only using about five percent of her aura, if that, but it was enough to make the beringel go limp, its back arching, its arms falling away from Rainbow's waist. Rainbow pushed it off, then hit it one last time for good measure, a final blow that shattered the beringel's mask and started the grimm's disintegration.

Nora ran past Rainbow Dash, hammer drawn back as she charged straight towards the Apex Alpha, unmistakable for its size, its armour plating, the helmet-like growth on its head. She rushed towards it, no bodyguard getting in her way — Distant Thunder roared as Ciel dropped another beringel — as she closed the distance.

The Apex Alpha turned its head towards her.

Nora bellowed wordlessly as she swung her hammer.

The Apex Alpha caught the hammer in one hand, stopping its momentum at once. The enormous beringel grunted as it tossed the hammer aside and Nora with it, sending her flying into a tree at the back of the hill. She hit the ground, back and body bending in a way that would have been terrifying if she'd had no aura left, before she flopped down onto the ground.

"Nora!" Ren yelled, firing both his machine pistols. Green bullets bounced and skittered off the huge beringel's armour plate, but it ignored Ren and his fire as it picked up its big axe, lifting it out of the ground — yeah, it was a piece of airship metal, like off a skyliner, all jagged and crinkled edges — and stomping over to where Nora lay.

It held the axe in one hand but didn't use it; instead, it raised its other fist, with the knuckleduster spikes growing out them, and punched down towards her.

Jaune threw himself between Nora and the Apex Alpha, his shield glowing with shimmering white-gold light as he tried to use his semblance to bolster himself against the attack.

That was probably the only reason he wasn't driven into the ground. Instead, when the blow landed, Jaune's legs were driven apart, one foot scraping backwards, the other dropping, both knees trembling, but for a moment, it looked like he was going to hold firm even against the huge strength of the grimm.

The Apex Alpha raised its fist and hit him again. This second blow drove Jaune to his knees, blade driven into the ground for some support. Jaune kept his shield up, but the third blow dropped him completely.

Penny was up on her feet, firing all her lasers, green bolts lancing across the hilltop to hit the Apex Alpha from behind, but the grimm ignored it the same way that it was ignoring Ren's bullets.

It raised its axe in both hands overhead.

Ruby streaked across the beringel's path, trailing rose petals after her, cape flying as she swung her scythe at the grimm's ankles. The blade skittered off the Apex Alpha's armour, doing no harm, but she got the grimm's attention nonetheless.

Ruby came to halt, Crescent Rose drawn back behind her, a smirk on her pale face.

The giant beringel turned its attention towards her, bringing its axe down on the ground where Ruby had stood before she darted away, leaving only rosepetals in her wake.

The grimm raised its axe and brought it down, driving the shard of metal into the ground over and over again, never able to hit Ruby as she darted left and right, always keeping herself more or less in front of him, using her semblance to avoid the blows, lashing out with her scythe to glance off the armour that covered the beringel from head to toe.

And while she kept the Apex Alpha distracted, constantly avoiding any blow that it sought to hit her with, Ren rushed to Nora's side and helped her away. Yang did the same with Jaune.

Rainbow watched Ruby danced in front of the beringel, wondering how long she could keep it up; she wasn't worried that the grimm would hit Ruby — she was consistently too fast for it; the only thing she had to worry about was burning her aura up through use of her semblance — but rather that the grimm would eventually get bored with this little game of whack-a-Ruby that it was impossible to win, but also impossible to lose. Sure, Ruby could not get hit thanks to her semblance, but not a single hit she was landing on the Apex Alpha was doing anything to it; she might as well have been spitting at it. There was nothing to stop the beringel ignoring Ruby the way that it had ignored Ren or Penny, except a degree of irritation. Once it got bored with this, then…

Rainbow had hoped that a sufficiently powerful hit would break through the Apex Alpha's armour; she was no longer so sure about that.

She forced her mind to work faster than her semblance; the Apex Alpha's guards were mostly taken care of by now, but the howling and the roaring of all the other grimm coming to their leader's aid was only getting louder and louder.

Rainbow's eyes darted around. They needed to wrap this up, but how? This Apex Alpha was so…

The first of the reinforcing grimm started to bound through the trees up from the back of the hill, but it was going to be okay because Rainbow had the plan.

"Penny!" she shouted. Rainbow pointed towards the grimm charging out of the trees. "Take care of those grimm, don't let them get close; Ciel will back you up."

Ciel didn't have any orders to that effect, but Rainbow trusted Ciel's judgement on what to do once the bodyguards had been dealt with.

Distant Thunder roared, and the alpha beowolf of one of the reinforcing packs had their torso blown apart, vindicating Rainbow's judgement.

"You've got it," Penny said.

Rainbow nodded. "Yang, Ren, you too, we need to hold them off for just a little while, buy some time."

"Right," Yang said before she started to scream wordlessly and charged into grimm, her gauntlets blazing.

Ren followed her a little more cautiously, firing with both his machine pistols.

Rainbow sped across the field to Blake, who had just finished despatching the last beringel bodyguard. "Blake," Rainbow said. "I need you to help Ruby; together, you need to lead it towards the edge of that cliff, or at least facing the cliff. Hopefully, Ruby will get that once you start to do it."

"I … think I get it," Blake said.

"Good for you," Rainbow said, and trusted her to get on with it as she raced back towards Jaune and Nora. "Okay, Nora, I need you to shock yourself somehow; try that damaged relay tower. That's how your semblance works, right?"

"Uh huh," Nora said.

"Great," Rainbow said. "And Jaune, once Blake and Ruby have led the grimm away toward that edge, we're going to get behind it, and I need you to be ready to give me a boost."

"Are we going to do a cannonball to push it over the edge?" Jaune asked.

"Pretty much, yeah," Rainbow agreed. "I'm going to knock it over the edge and down the cliff — the impact ought to crack its armour — and then Nora is going to finish it off."

Blake got to work hurling herself on the flank of the giant beringel; her whole body whirled, her black ribbon spun around her as though she was a Mistralian dancer, and she struck with blade and cleaver, both blades scraping off the grimm's armour in a shower of sparks.

The Apex Alpha grunted as it glared at her.

Blake landed on the ground, barely resting for a moment before she threw herself at the giant beringel again.

The grimm swiped at her with a contemptuous paw.

Blake disappeared, leaving behind a fire clone that exploded in a burst of flame that wrapped around the Apex Alpha's paw even as the real Blake dropped on the grimm from above, landing on one of its spiky shoulders. The grimm shook and reached for its own shoulder to grab or pull her off. Blake leapt before she could be caught, doing a backflip in mid-air to land facing the grimm.

As the Apex Alpha turned towards her, Blake gave a little gesture towards Ruby, motioning for her to join Blake.

Ruby darted between the Apex Alpha's legs, Crescent Rose scraping against the grimm's armoured ankle as she went.

She came to a stop alongside Blake, raising Crescent Rose to snap off a shot that ricocheted off the beringel's armour.

Blake switched Gambol Shroud from sword to pistol mode, firing some more fire dust rounds that started a fire on the beringel's upper arm. It didn't seem to hurt the big grimm, exactly, but it did annoy it enough that it went for Blake, its big axe swinging.

Blake and Ruby retreated before it, using their semblances to stay out of trouble, speeding away or using a clone to take their place so that no blow — no chop of the axe, no swipe of a paw, no spiked-knuckle punch — could land on them. The Apex Alpha pursued them, pushing them back to the edge of the sharp drop down the hillside.

The armoured beringel, commander of the horde, faced the two of them with the sharp drop behind.

It must have been so confident in its ability to withstand any attack — with good reason, admittedly — to just ignore the others, as if it could deal with them whenever it wished, after it had dealt with Blake and Ruby.

More fool it, because while it had been chasing them to the edge of the drop-off, Rainbow, Jaune, and Nora had gotten behind it.

Nora stood at the CCT Relay tower. It was broken, leaning to one side, the control panels smashed, wires hanging out — but those wires were still sparking.

Nora jammed her hand into the broken control box, her whole body shaking and contorting as the electricity travelled up and down her body.

Meanwhile, Rainbow Dash stood on Jaune's shield, half-angled towards the Apex Alpha, the golden light of Jaune's semblance travelling from her feet up to surround her.

Rainbow had never felt Jaune's semblance like this before. He'd given her a top-up to her aura before, but this was something else; this … this felt so comforting, and so powerful too. She felt at the same time as though there was nothing to worry about and as though she could run all the way to Atlas, right over the water.

She felt as though she could do anything.

She certainly felt as though she could knock this beringel on its back.

The Apex Alpha, driven by some instinct, turned to look at her.

Rainbow launched herself off Jaune's shield with a kick more powerful than the thrust of Wings of Harmony, tracing a brilliant rainbow through the darkness as she shot like a bullet towards the grimm.

The beringel had no time to move; Rainbow was much too fast, and to her eyes, the grimm was moving oh-so-slow.

She drew back her fist, and as she slammed into the beringel at high speed, she hit it with an aura boom, burning the enhanced aura that Jaune had boosted while at the same time feeling like she hadn't used my aura at all. There was a bang louder than the report of Distant Thunder; the beringel let out an astonished hoot as it was picked up off the ground and thrown, over the heads of Ruby and Blake, off the edge of the drop.

The grimm's enormous arms flailed as it hit the ground and started to bounce and roll down the hill. The bone spikes on its shoulders snapped off, and plates began to crack under the impact.

Rainbow unfurled the Wings of Harmony, the jetpack firing to lift her up, off and away from the beringel as it fell.

The grimm stopped, digging one massive hand into the earth to stop its descent, holding on as it lay on its front, looking upwards.

The armour plates on its back were cracked and chipped.

Nora cackled loudly as leapt off the cliff, hammer raised over her head, her back bent backwards.

She was still cackling as she dropped like a rock onto the grimm, bringing her hammer straight down onto the broken armour of the beringel's back.

The armour of the grimm shattered, the hammer punching down into the grimm's black flesh. The Apex Alpha roared in pain, its back arching.

Nora yelled triumphantly as she rushed up the broken armour plates up onto the grimm's shoulders and brought her hammer down again onto the Apex Alpha's head.

Bone horns and helmet shattered into splinters, and Nora's hammer crushed the head beneath.

The remains of the head lolled to one side, and the beringel's grip on the ground loosened.

Rainbow swooped downwards, grabbing Nora bridal style and carrying her upwards before the grimm dissolved and she fell down the hill herself.

"You guys have a plan to get out of here?" Rainbow asked as the grimm howled in fury at the death of their leader. With the Apex Alpha dead, the horde might lose its coordination overall, but in the short term, they were on a hill with a lot of angry grimm headed their way.

"We've got a car waiting down the hill," Nora said.

"Down the hill?" Rainbow repeated as she set Nora down on the hilltop. "Never mind that; you can fly out with us."

As if on cue, their Skyray swooped down out of the night to hover, side door open, just beyond the drop.

"Everybody get aboard!" Rainbow shouted. "Move!"

Rainbow drew her machine pistols, stepping forward to open fire on the grimm as the others piled aboard the airship, feet hammering upon the metal as they leapt inside. First Nora, then Ruby and Blake, then Jaune, then Yang and Ren, Rainbow herself the last aboard, still firing with Brutal Honesty and Plain Awesome as the furious grimm rushed towards them.

The Skyray pulled away as soon as she was aboard; a beowolf tried to leap for them but missed; as the Skyray rose into the air, the beowolf plunged down the steep drop where the Apex Alpha was beginning to decompose.

The door to the airship slid shut.

"Congratulations, everybody," Rainbow declared. "We just cut the head off a snake!"

 

[ScipioSmith]

Premature Celebration

​

The attack took the form of a single pack of beowolves.

A pretty large pack, all things considered, twenty or maybe even thirty beowolves, but still just one pack. One pack, under a single alpha, breaking out of the dark to rush the Atlesian line, roaring and howling.

Their roars and howls of anger were swiftly drowned out by the gunfire that erupted from across the Atlesian line as the Military Huntsman of the Fourth Battalion and neighbouring troops from the Third opened up on the grimm with everything they had.

Starlight fired too, snapping off shot after shot with Equaliser, blue bolts flying through the air.

The beowolves were large — this was not a pack full of the young — and it took several shots even from Equaliser to bring them down, they soaked up bullets; it took a rocket to get a clean kill or a shot from the cannons of a Paladin. But, though it took a hail of rifle and machine gun fire, though it took multiple bolts from Starlight's rifle, though it took Trixie unleashing a torrent of fire from the tip of her wand, amplified by wind dust from Sunburst's staff to create a inferno erupting out to engulf the grimm, though it took all of that to bring them down, the beowolves were brought down. They died, and not a single one of them managed to reach the Atlesian line before they died.

The sound of shooting made Starlight look down the line, to where a single ursa major, alone and unsupported, was withering under sustained fire. It tried to lumber forward in spite of that, bullets and rockets slamming into it, before eventually, it stopped walking, swayed in place like a drunken man, and toppled down dead onto the ground.

"Is it me," Sun said, "or has this gotten a lot easier lately?"

"It's not just you," Starlight replied.

Recently — and it was very recent; until then, they had felt quite hard-pressed — the grimm had seemed to lose their coordination. The last mass wave of grimm to charge the Atlesian line in all its fury, the kind of wall of black with bony masks of the kind that Team TTSS had faced at the fairground, had been defeated, repulsed. Repulsed with some cost, but not with such great cost that it had left the line in jeopardy of falling. The Third was not so well positioned as the Fourth behind its rampart, but it had held its ground and could have held its ground for at least one more, two more, some more attacks just like that. Maybe it couldn't have held the line all night against such furious assaults, but it hadn't been in imminent danger of snapping like an elastic band that had been stretched out too many times either. There was strength in the Third Battalion yet, vigour to hold back another all-out grimm attack, especially since their spider droids on the back line had gotten into position and were able to provide some fire support, hurling shells and missiles over the Atlesian line to burst amongst the grimm in front of them.

That, in turn, meant that the airships, no longer the only source of fire support for the infantry in front, were able to devote some more of their fire to protecting themselves against the flying grimm that tried to swarm them. Missiles flew from the hulls of cruisers to hit nevermores and griffons on the wing, consuming them in fire or knocking them out of the sky where they turned to ash before they hit the ground.

They had held, and they had it in them to keep holding against other similar attacks.

If there had been another attack like it.

But there hadn't been. The enormous waves of grimm that had crashed against the line had stopped, and instead, there had been a lot of tiny little piecemeal attacks, small groups of grimm rushing out of the night on their own, without any other grimm supporting them: a pack of beowolves here, some ursai there, a group of creeps, a goliath or two. In place of unified hammer blows, the grimm were making pinpricks which didn't even prick because, by exposing themselves to such concentrated fire from across the Atlesian line, the grimm only ensured that they got shot down before they got anywhere near it. None of these attacks had wounded anyone, much less killed them. The only thing that they had maybe done was use up some Atlesian ammunition, and there was plenty more where that came from — even Starlight had power packs to keep on firing, and she'd have more trouble replenishing her supplies than most.

It wasn't a numbers issue. There were still plenty of grimm out there; she could hear them. She could see them, some of them, not attacking, but close enough to catch enough of a look to tell that they were still present in numbers. It wasn't like they'd killed them all and only a few stragglers remained to be mopped up. Nobody had pulled an Ozpin-like semblance — if that was his semblance, which Starlight doubted; she thought it was more likely to be some kind of magic, maybe even a Maiden's magic, though she couldn't work out who the Maiden who had unleashed the magic might be. That Ruby girl? Starlight hadn't seen her during the battle — out of nowhere to destroy the grimm but this time leave a few of them standing, no. The horde was still a horde, or at least it was still as large as a horde, still numerous and powerful, still with a lot of grimm to throw at them.

Not a numbers issue then, more like a loss of all cohesion, a loss of coordination, a loss of control. They were like an army where communications had broken down and the officers were too headstrong to follow the plan that had been laid out for them, like Mistralian armies where it had been difficult to order great lords and their followers around simply because they were great lords and so they did what they wanted as often as not.

It was like that, only it had happened all of a sudden, in the middle of a battle.

"Do you think it's possible," Rarity murmured, "that they might be planning something?"

"Planning what?" Trixie asked, looking at her over her shoulder.

"I've really no idea," Rarity admitted. "But to make us let our guards down?"

Trixie paused. "We don't do that, obviously," she said. "The Grrrreat Team Tsunami shall remain ever vigilant, ever prepared, ever ready to resist the darkness!" She raised her wand up above her head. "But Trixie doesn't think that's likely. Considering how they've been attacking up until now, it's a little late for them to start trying to act weak, don't you think?"

"Maybe they've given up?" Sun suggested. "Maybe they don't think they can break through here, so they're … all attacking the Mistralians, maybe?"

"Except that they're not all attacking the Mistralians," Starlight pointed. "They're attacking here; they're just doing it badly." Now it was her turn to pause for a second. "I've gotta wonder if this is Dash and Blake's doing?"

"Blake?" Sun asked. "What does Blake have to do with this?"

"Maybe nothing, I don't know," Starlight admitted. "But Rainbow Dash, Blake, and Ciel Soleil took off in an airship in the middle of a battle, and then, not long after … I'm just saying, one thing that could explain the grimm falling to pieces like this is the Apex Alpha going down. That would also explain what's going on over there." She gestured behind them and to the east, where the fire from the Fourth Battalion on the ramparts and the walls had not slackened off in intensity one bit. While the small arms of the Third Battalion had fallen silent, and only the spider droids and the mortars were continuing to harass the grimm with indirect fire, up on the ramparts, the gunfire sounded as loud as ever. "They don't sound as though they're getting the same break as us, do they?"

Sun frowned. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I think Rainbow, Blake, and Ciel took out the leader of the horde on this side, which is why we're getting a respite," Starlight explained. "The grimm here have no leader to direct them, so they're all just doing their own thing without any organisation — and so much better for us. The grimm to the north, though, they're still a horde, they still have their Apex Alpha, so that's why the attack's still going strong."

Sun scratched the side of his head with one hand. "Okay, but … why can't the Apex Alpha that's still alive just take over the other horde as well?"

"Maybe they will," Sunburst said. "But it seems like they can't do it straight away. To be honest, more than one horde at the same time is so rare, we don't really know how it all works."

"I guess," said Sun. "Do you really think they did that? Blake did that?"

"It makes sense, right?" Starlight asked. "Plus, if General Ironwood was going to ask anyone to do that, he'd ask Dash and Blake."

"Although Team Tsunami could have done it just as easily as they could, if the General had asked us instead," declared Trixie.

Starlight smiled. "Green isn't your colour, Trix."

"Trixie was just saying!"

"Whether or not anyone else could have done it," Maud said softly, "if they did it, it's impressive work."

"Yeah, really impressive," Sun replied. "Makes me wish I could have gotten here just a little faster; then I could have gone with them."

"Think of it like this," Starlight said, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "You're here now to be the first one to congratulate Blake when she gets back."

XxXxX​

General Ironwood studied the displays on the screen in front of him, abstracted images showing the state of the battlefield — Atlesian lines in white, icons denoting the positions of cruisers, black masses representing the concentrations of the grimm — combined with drone footage of the actual battle itself. It looked, from his elevated perspective, as though the attacks on the Third Battalion, holding the flank of the Atlesian line, were slackening off, even as attacks on the Fourth and First in front were continuing at the same level of intensity.

On the right hand side of the selection of images, a single camera from a single drone was still capturing the action of the Beacon and Haven students. They, too, looked to be having a slightly easier time of it, despite the loss of the Mistralian battleship.

He hadn't heard from Dash yet — possibly because he was on a call — but what he was seeing was giving him hope that she, Belladonna, and Soleil had been successful in their mission.

Now, if only he heard from them to confirm that was the case — and that they had come through it okay — then he would be well satisfied.

Yes, from his perspective, the battle appeared to be shifting in their favour; now, he wanted to hear what the eyes on the ground thought about it.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, although as it happened, he was only addressing one lady. "Situation report, if you please."

"The position is holding," said Colonel Redfern Buller of the First Squadron. "I've shifted the Thunderchild to the right to provide additional cover for the Fourth following the loss of the Gallant, and since the Emerald Forest seems pretty quiet, I've stripped out two platoons from First Company to reinforce the centre of the line. I think the grimm in the woods must have given everything they had to that attack on Beacon."

"Perhaps," Ironwood allowed. "But do you need both platoons for your centre to hold?"

"They weren't doing much where they were, sir," replied Buller.

"All the same, I don't want our left flank to collapse because we got complacent," Ironwood replied. "Move one platoon back to the left just in case, unless you think there's an imminent danger of a grimm breakthrough." After all, until Ozpin had set off his … whatever it was that he'd actually done, grimm had been continuing to emerge out of the woods to try and scale the cliffs; it was a lot to hope that they'd just reached the end of that particular concentration when Ozpin had done his thing and killed them all. More likely, they had either slipped out of the forest to join the main assault on the Green Line, or they were biding their time, waiting for more favourable circumstances to attack again elsewhere.

Or their Apex Alpha had died at Beacon, and the grimm left in the forest were leaderless, disorganised and incapable of further offensive action tonight. That was also a possibility.

Not a possibility that he wanted to count on, however. It would be a fine thing to hold their right flank only to get turned on the left.

"Yes, sir," Buller said. "I'll pass the order to Dunnett at once."

"The Fourth is holding strong as well, sir," Harper added. "We've had a couple of close calls, but I've got to say, those kids have really been showing their mettle."

Ironwood smiled, for all that he knew that none of the senior officers, all speaking to him by voice only, could see it. "I'm not surprised, Colonel, but I'm glad to hear it all the same. Any concerns?"

"With Gallant down and Resolution damaged, I've only got Courageous and Vigilant for cruiser support," Harper reminded him. "I'm grateful for the assistance from Thunderchild — thank you, Colonel — but … we'll make do, sir. My main concern is that there just doesn't seem to be an end to the bastards."

"How are you fixed for ammunition?" Ironwood asked.

"I've just sent for another drop from our supply ship," Harper said. "So long as we don't lose the skies, I think we'll manage."

"Understood," Ironwood said. "Palmer, from observation, it looks as though the grimm are slacking off; is that how it feels?"

"It certainly seems so at the moment, General," replied Colonel Ohrid Palmer of the Third Squadron. "My infantry weathered the initial grimm assaults, but I was worried that it might be touch and go if they kept on throwing themselves at us with that much ferocity; however, it seems to have died down; we're only seeing sporadic attacks against our line by small forces, nothing that we can't handle. The Lady must be smiling on us."

"Perhaps she knows she still has some worshippers in the ranks," Ironwood replied. "Harper, in light of the fact that the danger to the right flank appears to have reduced, and the fact that the Third is present to hold that flank, move your Military Huntsman company to face front and reinforce your line. Palmer, shift your battalion leftwards to take over that position and continue to cover the right flank of Fourth Battalion. To that end, I also want you to move the Audacious over the pivot point between the two units to cover both battalions and partially compensate for the loss of Gallant."

"I could do more than that, if necessary, sir," Palmer suggested.

"I'm sure you could, but like with our left, I don't want to take too big of a risk in case the grimm come back," Ironwood said. "Keep the bulk of your squadron facing right, ready to meet any future attacks, large or small."

"Yes, sir."

"How's morale?" Ironwood asked.

"Very good, sir," Palmer replied.

"High," Harper said. "But a little tiredness might be starting to set in."

"It's the same here, sir," added Buller.

"That's unfortunate, but it can't be helped," Ironwood said. "Remind them that the night won't last forever. The dawn will come, and with it, a chance for respite. They just need to stick it out for a while longer."

"And if the attack continues tomorrow, sir?" asked Buller.

"I don't think that's likely, Colonel," Ironwood said. If what Cinder Fall said is true, then Salem is aiming to get the Relic tonight, and all of this is just window dressing for that. "The grimm won't continue to attack until all of them are dead; once it becomes clear that they can't breach our line, then they'll start to slink away."

Certainly, if his instinct was correct, and Dash, Belladonna, and Soleil had successfully completed their mission, then come morning, the horde on the right, leaderless, would start to dissolve into its component groups — indeed, the loss of coordination in the attack was a sign that it had already started to do so — and some of those packs would retreat to easier hunting grounds. Others might remain, trying to occupy a plot of land beyond the Green Line as their territory, but they could be easily dealt with in detail, and even if the other horde remained intact, it would be vulnerable at that point to a flank attack.

"I hope you're right, sir," said Buller.

"So do I, Buller, so do I," Ironwood replied. He took a breath. "While the losses suffered so far are regrettable, it appears that the plans devised and measures put in place before this battle began are working. All of you continue to hold fast, and both we and Vale will live to see another day. And tell the men and women how proud I am of them."

"Yes, sir," the three commanding officers chorused at once.

"That's all; I'll let you get back to it. Ironwood out."

"A good night, sir," said Fitzjames. "One for the annals."

"It's not over yet, Fitzjames," Ironwood replied. "But yes, so far, it's been a good night."

"Sir," des Voeux said, "Cadet Dash is hailing. I think she's been trying to reach you for some time, but you—"

"Put her through," Ironwood said at once. "Dash?"

"Mission complete, sir," Dash said simply.

"Bravo!" declared Fitzjames, as a triumphant whoop rippled across the Valiant's CIC.

Ironwood chuckled. "As you might have just heard, Dash, you've made the bridge officers very happy."

"Glad we could help, sir," Dash said.

"Cough! Cough!" said a female voice that Ironwood didn't recognise.

"Yes, Nora, I'm gonna tell him," Dash said. She cleared her throat. "Sir, we ran into some Beacon students on top of the hill — that's where we found the Apex Alpha — who'd had the same idea as you. We couldn't have done it without them."

"I see," Ironwood said. "Since it seems they can all hear me: did Ozpin send you?"

"Um, no, sir," murmured another young woman, not the one who had said 'cough.' "It just seemed like a good idea at the time."

"It seems it was a good idea," Ironwood observed. "Congratulations, all of you. Any casualties or injuries?"

"No, sir," Dash said. "We're all good."

Ironwood relaxed his hands, clasped behind his back, a fraction. "Excellent. Come home, Dash."

"Yes, sir, but if I can just drop the Beacon students off first?"

"Of course," Ironwood said. "Then return to Fourth Battalion HQ."

"Aye aye, sir," Dash said. "Dash out."

Ironwood allowed himself a momentary glance upwards, at the brightly lit metallic ceiling of the bridge.

So they had done it. They had done it, and they had done so without casualties or injuries.

It occurred to him that perhaps he should have asked for the names of the Beacon students, so he could have passed them onto Ozpin.

Ah, well; no doubt, the word of their accomplishment would reach Ozpin somehow, at some point. 'Nora' and the other students would be the talk of Beacon tomorrow. Miss Nikos and her tournament victory would be put in the shade.

One horde effectively neutralised, another drastically reduced in number and seemingly quiescent for now, and the last stymied in its frontal assault on the Atlesian positions. Amity Arena protected, Beacon defended, the Valish Defence Force neutralised. They were victorious on all fronts.

As Fitzjames had said, a good night.

Is this all that you have, Salem? Ironwood wondered. Is this all that you can throw at us?

Come with your monsters, come with your fury, come in the dark of the night and beat against us like a hurricane, like waves upon the shore, and we will meet you with such fire as you cannot dream of, with such destructive power as all your grimm hordes cannot match. Against teeth and claws, we will match all the latest technological advancements — and the bravest men and women you've ever seen to wield them.

Send all your grimm from every corner of Remnant, and we will shock them.

So what else have you got?

XxXxX​

The cyclops fell to the ground with an almighty crash.

As it began to turn to ashes and smoke, Pyrrha extracted Miló from out of its eye.

She looked around her for her next opponent — or next victim.

She found … none.

Pyrrha stood on the far side of the wreckage of the Dingyuan, or at least for the most part, she did. The detritus of the explosion had been flung too far, it had scattered too widely, for Pyrrha to say that she had gone beyond all of it — there were still some twisted pieces and fragments out there, half buried in the earth — but she had passed beyond the bulk of the wreckage, beyond the smouldering shell that remained of the once-proud vessel, beyond the half-intact compartments and the most major fragments; she was, it could fairly be said, on the far side of the ship. She, and Arslan, and others, having plunged into the remains of the battleship in order to fight the grimm on a more even footing, without the horde being able to bring its vast numbers to bear, had fought their way through the debris, slaying every grimm that they had come across along the way, and now, they had come out of the ship and stood beyond it, with only a few scraps of metal to contest their claim.

Having done all that, having fought so far, the very logic that had driven them into the remains of the vessel in the first place should, by the same token, have led them to have to fall back into it, in the face of the sheer numbers of the grimm that would bear down upon them, with nothing to break up their relentless attack.

And yet, having emerged from the remains of the vessel, having slain the grimm — like the cyclops decomposing at her feet — that confronted them there, they now, like Pyrrha, looked up and found the grimm were gone.

They were not here, or at least, Pyrrha couldn't see them. Her green eyes peered into the darkness before her, scanned the ground around the fires — began by the destruction of the Dingyuan — which continued to faintly burn in the night; she sought for any sign that the moonlight could provide.

Her ears told her that the grimm had not all slipped away; she could still hear them, growling, snarling, snuffling. But their sounds were more muted now than they had been, or so it seemed to Pyrrha, at least. The grimm had been all anger, all fury, and they had let Remnant know of their fury by the bellowing shouts that they had made, by the trumpeting of the goliaths, by the howling of the beowolves; the grimm had come, and they had wanted all to know of their coming, just as they had wanted fear to come before them, carried by the cacophony they made. Now, the grimm sounded quieter, making noise, but making not only less of it, but less aggressive noise besides, the sort of noise they might have made if huntsmen had been hunting them and come upon them by surprise.

And they were out of sight. They stayed out of sight and did not…

Pyrrha's ears pricked up as at least some of the softer sounds of the grimm began to rise again, to become once more angry-sounding and aggressive.

She took a step back, Akoúo̱ raised to cover half her face as a group of beowolves bounded out of the darkness. One swiped at her, but Pyrrha turned the blow aside with her shield before thrusting up with Miló to pierce the snarling grimm through its mouth. The beowolf, feet lifted upward off the ground, hung from Pyrrha's spear like a fish as Pyrrha spun on her toe and hit another beowolf with the body of its fellow monster before it could dissolve.

Miló transformed from spear to sword in her hand, the dissolving body dropping to the ground as Pyrrha turned again, sash fluttering around her, to hack off the forearm of a third beowolf. It howled in pain as Pyrrha stepped forward, slashing across its chest, her arm a blur, before the grimm fell down dead to the ground.

As the second beowolf, the one that she had hit with another grimm, started to rise, Pyrrha flung Akoúo̱ at it; the bronze shield caught the moonlight as it hit the grimm square on the snout hard enough to crack its bone mask, before flying back onto Pyrrha's arm as the beowolf began to dissolve.

And then, once more, there were no grimm to be seen. None willing to come out and fight. None willing to even make the noise to signal such a willingness.

Arslan looked around. "This is a bit odd, isn't it?" She paused. "Or is that we've won?"

"I would say that it is odd," Pyrrha murmured. "You can still hear the grimm out there — we have not killed them all — so why do they not come out and fight?"

Arslan hesitated for a moment. She licked her lips before she said, "Perhaps Jaune and the others did it. I mean, when the Red Lion killed the big grimm, all the others just … I mean, that's the point, isn't it? He killed the leader of the horde, and the horde was broken. The forces of Mistral won the day."

"Yes," Pyrrha agreed. "Yes, that is so."

With the death of the Apex Alpha, the grimm horde that had threatened Kuchinashi had been thrown into confusion, leaderless, listless. The Lady Kommenos of the time, wielding Soteria, had led the forces of Mistral in a charge that broke the grimm, scattering them to the four winds in dribs and drabs and patches.

Perhaps we should charge, as they did, and scatter the grimm before Vale just as they were scattered before Kuchinashi. Pyrrha could not help but think — much as it was somewhat embarrassing to think — that if she were to give the command, if she were to raise Miló above her head and call out 'charge!' then people would probably obey her. They would let out a loud war cry, strike the moon above, and they would plunge into the darkness to take the fight to the grimm.

It was embarrassing, but she might have done it nonetheless if she had been convinced that it was the thing to do. A part of her longed to do it, not to lead the charge but to make it, to rush forward with Miló drawn back and cleave her way through all these grimm until she fought her way to Jaune.

To Jaune, if he had done this. To Jaune and Penny. To where they had all slain the Apex Alpha, if indeed they had — there was no proof, though Arslan's logic was compelling. To fight her way to them, to reach them and find them…

And find them alive, she hoped. In the absence of grimm, in the absence of distraction provided by the grimm, in the absence of immediate struggle to focus the mind and drive of all idle and unhelpful thoughts, those thoughts crowded about her just as the dark of night that made them stand out sharper than they would have in the sun.

The Red Lion had slain the Apex Alpha, broken the grimm horde, saved Kuchinashi, paved the way for the Mistralian victory … and had been found by the Emperor and his bodyguards dead on the ground, and many of his gallant comrades with him, his armour rent and torn, his body covered in wounds.

Two fears had Pyrrha, two fears she felt wrapped around, their hands around her neck, her gilded gorget unable to resist them. The first, that they would be caught as they sought the Apex Alpha, caught and killed even ere they found their quarry; the second, that they would succeed, as it seemed they had succeeded, but be unable to escape, unable to reach the car, unable to get away, unable to return though she climbed Professor Ozpin's tower to watch for him.

Some might call it noble, but that would be a poor balm to Pyrrha's heart even so.

It would soothe my heart no more if you were to perish also, Yang.

The idea of finding Jaune and Penny somewhere out there, of reaching them more swiftly, made the idea of a charge, a mad rush onwards into the suddenly quiescent grimm, a tempting prospect. Even more tempting was the idea of yet more battle to drive out fear and worry from her mind, to hew through the hands about her neck, to be consumed in battle and forget all else beyond the fight; it was far more tempting a prospect than to stand here, listening to grimm that would not attack, wondering where Jaune and Penny where, whether they were on their way back to her or no.

Wishing that she had defied Ruby and dared the swords of Mistral to lose heart from her seeming flight and gone with them.

I picked a fine time to listen to Ruby, didn't I?

But, leaving aside what was too late to change and focussing solely on what could be changed and decided now … this was not the daylight outside Kuchinashi; this was the night outside Vale, and a charge now would risk scattering the huntsmen of Beacon and Haven and leaving them exposed, should the grimm rally.

After all, they didn't yet know for sure that the Apex Alpha was dead. It might be, this behaviour was consistent with it, but it might be a stratagem.

Perhaps the captain of the horde itself wishes us to think them dead to lure us forth, having already…

I cannot think such thoughts, I dare not, I will not.

I will speak only good things 'til they are back.

How she longed for the sight of headlights, how she longed to hear the rumble of an engine instead of the grumbling of the grimm, how she longed for their return.

She did not see headlights, she heard no engine, but she did see an Atlesian Skyray flying towards them, over the heads of the grimm out there in the darkness, who seemed to take no notice or trouble of it.

Why should an Atlesian airship be coming to us?

And why is it coming from that direction?

Pyrrha watched and kept her eyes upon the airship as it came closer and closer, as it descended down onto the grass beyond the wreckage of the Dingyuan. She kept watching as the door opened and—

Pyrrha let out a gasp of joy as she ran forward, her sash flying out behind, her ponytail streaming after her. She reached Jaune and Penny as they dismounted from the airship and embraced them both, putting her arms around them and pulling them close as though she were drowning and they were rocks in the water that would keep her safe.

"You have returned," she said through breaths ragged with relief. "I was…" She trailed off and looked at Jaune, looked into his eyes. She closed her own eyes, as she felt water begin to well up beneath them, and pressed her forehead against his. "I understand now," she said softly, "I comprehend through bitter study what I have put you through at times in this past year. Hating the taste of it has made me contrite. I'm sorry. I understand now how frustrated I've made you."

Once more, she rested her forehead against his and closed her eyes. Slowly, softly, she felt his hand upon her cheek, first his fingertips stroking her skin and then his glove-clad palm.

Pyrrha took her hand from off his back and placed it on his hand instead, to hold it there as she looked up, over his head and towards the Atlesian airship from which he and Penny and Ruby and all the rest had disembarked.

Blake and Ciel stood in the doorway. Ciel wore a fond smile upon her face, though it was only slight; Blake looked a little more amused.

"How is it?" Rainbow Dash called, Pyrrha couldn't see her, but that was undoubtedly her voice emerging from the cockpit.

"All that is to be hoped for in happy union," Ciel replied.

"How?" Pyrrha murmured. "How did—?"

"Parallel missions," Blake explained. "We were after the Apex Alpha too. We have to get back to the Atlesian line, but good luck!"

"You too!" Yang called as the airship began to rise once more into the air, the door sliding closed to obscure Blake and Ciel from sight.

"You did it then?" Pyrrha asked. "I … should not have fretted."

"Yes," Penny said. "We did it, although I'm glad they were there with their airship." She paused. "So, what happens now?"

"We counterattack," declared Ruby. "While they're vulnerable."

The earth trembled beneath their feet. Pyrrha shook, Nora stumbled, Jaune lost his footing and fell into Pyrrha's arms as the wreckage of the Dingyuan was shaken violently from side to side.

"What the—?" Yang explained, as she flung out her arms on either side of her for balance. "Are the grimm doing this?"

Ruby buried Crescent Rose's blade in the earth to give herself something to hold onto. "What grimm?" she asked, as the earth trembled. "And how?"

XxXxX​

Up in the air, if only a little way, Rainbow didn't feel anything — but from out of the cockpit, she could see the earth beginning to shake down below.

"What in Remnant?"

XxXxX​

"Sir," Cuningham said, "we're picking up unexpected levels of seismic activity."

"'Seismic activity'?" Ironwood repeated. "An earthquake?"

"Unknown, sir."

"Can you trace the epicentre?" Ironwood asked. An earthquake in the middle of a battle wasn't ideal, but how bad it was depended on the strength. If it ripped through their defences and pulled down the ramparts they'd erected on the Green Line, that would be less than ideal, but anything less than that should be manageable. It would be rough luck for a soldier to get a broken collarbone from a fall on a night like this, but better that than their chest slashed by an ursa's claws.

"It's…" Cuningham fell silent as he worked, fingers flying over his console. "It's coming from southeast of here, sir. Just outside Mountain Glenn."

XxXxX​

Mountain Glenn had been built at the southern edge of the long range of mountains that acted as Vale's shield, protecting it from encroachment from the east. At the end of the mountain range, just north of the ruins of that dead city, was one of the tallest of those mountains, and in ancient times, it was called the Dragon's Fang, and tales were told of a creature that slumbered there, so old and so strong that even the great knights of Vale feared to challenge it.

Now, the mountain trembled. The mountain shook. If anyone had been standing upon the grey slope, they would surely have been flung aside and fallen to their deaths, if anyone had been watching the mountain from a high vantage in the necropolis, they would have seen it shuddering violently, heard it rumbling like an oncoming storm, seen — if they had gotten closer still in safety — cracks rippling up and down the rock.

They would have seen the mountain begin to flake and fall away, like an egg giving way to the chick beneath.

And as the mountain crumbled, they would have caught a glimpse of bleach white bone, red markings, and a baleful eye as red as blood staring out at them.

If any hypothetical watcher had the courage to remain after that, they would have seen the mountain shake ever more violently, seen more and more rock crumble from the mountainside and tumble downwards to the land below until, eventually, the Dragon's Fang exploded in a shower of rock and dust, thrown up as if by the eruption of a volcano, long dormant, now stirring to life.

But it was no geyser of lava that rose into the skies amidst the debris of its quickening.

It was a grimm dragon.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Eat the Rich

​

Sunset teleported, appearing an inch or two above the roof in a crack and a flash of green light before dropping down the remaining distance to land upon said roof.

"Ow!" Sunset winced, as she landed kind of heavily upon her feet; her soles and her ankles both protested it; pain throbbed up her legs, and not the momentary simulacra of pain generated by aura — because of course she didn't have any aura right now — that flared to let her know and then faded again; this was an actual — not unbearable but low-key and persistent — pain, raising its hand to get her attention.

My aura is still broken. I need to keep that in mind. It would take a while for her aura to come back, and until then, she would be vulnerable in all kinds of ways, both large — she couldn't just let herself get shot or stabbed or hit with heavy things — and small; just throwing herself around with too much reckless abandon might do her a serious injury. She would need to be a little more careful with herself.

Some might say that the most careful she could be with herself would be to stay where she was, or to have stayed on the Comfort, stayed safe and waited for her aura to come back.

Sunset turned her eyes towards the Emerald Tower, to where the green lights burned in the dark of night. Not far away, she could see other lights in the sky: the bright white lights of the Amity Arena, illuminated in all its glory; the lights of a damaged Atlesian cruiser hovering nearby, when all the other ships had gone away, to fight the grimm upon the outer defences.

But it was the green lights of the Emerald Tower that spoke to Sunset most of all, that shone especially on her, that spoke to her … that would have shamed her, if she had done nothing.

Pyrrha, Jaune, Penny, Ruby, Rainbow Dash, Blake, everyone was fighting. They had fought in the arena, they had fought at Beacon, and now, they would fight outside of Vale as well; perhaps they were already fighting beyond the walls, the battle underway. So far away as Sunset was, she could not tell. But she knew that they would fight, if they were not fighting already.

She knew that Flash had lost both his legs fighting.

A little whimper escaped Sunset's lips at the thought, though she pursed them tightly together.

Poor Flash. Poor, poor Flash; poor sweet Flash; poor handsome Flash; poor virtuous Flash. Poor Flash, would even his mother love him now?

Brave Flash, who had suffered much because he had risked much.

Her friends were fighting, and others had suffered for having fought; not only Flash but Councillor Emerald too, up on the Comfort under the knives of the surgeons.

Sunset had fought too, up until now, but if she didn't keep fighting, if she stepped back at this point … she would be shamed.

No, it would be worse than shame; she would hate herself, she could not bear it. The fact that she had no aura was of as little consequence as her remaining aura — which was to say, of no consequence at all; she had to do what she could.

But what could — or should — she do, and where ought she to do it?

She could go out, beyond the wall, and join the others there; Jaune would even be able to restore her aura so that she wasn't a liability to the others. But, even if she could get there — and there were genuine practicalities to consider such as how to find the others and whether she would find the gate opened — going out there to fight with them beyond the city would mean … it would mean coming face to face with Ruby.

That was something … perhaps best avoided for both their sakes.

She could avoid Ruby on the battlefield, but who knew if fate might bring them together, and if she wanted Jaune to boost her aura, she would presumably have to go at least somewhere near Ruby in the first place.

No, although a part of her heart desired to venture forth in that direction, perhaps it was best not. Better to…

Better to see if there was something that she could do here in Vale first. Perhaps she should look for Cinder, to stop her from going anywhere and doing anything unfortunate.

Except without aura, would she stand a chance against Cinder if she caught up with her? It wasn't as though Cinder was helpless in the face of Sunset's magic; she was not, she was quite capable of resisting it, as she had just proven in a fight in which Sunset had aura and had, in the best possible interpretation, just about gotten the upper hand before they were interrupted.

Without aura … it almost didn't bear thinking about what Cinder might do to her. Sunset would be completely at Cinder's mercy — and that really didn't bear thinking about.

Sunset wanted to do something, but she didn't want that something to be getting sliced into unicorn cutlets by Cinder's obsidian blades or squirming at Cinder's feet imploring her for mercy — for the second time tonight.

No, Cinder was … Cinder was too strong for her right now. Sunset would just have to hope that the revenge that Cinder sought was not on Pyrrha.

When her aura was restored, then perhaps … perhaps she would turn her thoughts to Cinder once again, and hope that the good outcome that had seemed at one point to be within her grasp could be repeated.

For now, for now, for now … for now, she would remain in Vale and ensure that the city was at peace again. Even before Sonata's madness had set loose the Valish Defence Force upon the streets, grimm cultists had been attacking different locations; she'd seen the skydock—

The skydock. Sunset turned on the rooftop, looking to see if she could see the skydock from here. She hadn't teleported onto one of the tallest buildings in Vale, but from the right direction, she could still see the plume of smoke rising from the direction of the dock.

She would go there. Perhaps she would get there and find that it had all been taken care of, but by the same token, she might not. It was as good a heading as any.

Sunset scampered down the fire escape, her boots making the metal steps rattle beneath them as she ran rapidly down them. She had teleported not far from the Valish Military Headquarters — intentionally so, not out of any great love or affection for the place but because it was where she had left her bike, by far her best means of traversing Vale quickly. The building onto which she had teleported, which wasn't tall enough to see the skydock, only the smoke of what Sunset guessed to be a skyliner exploding, was not far away from the imposing headquarters; it was a Vacuan restaurant, with a garden in which wooden tables and chairs mingled with potted palms and rhodolirium flowers. There was no one around, the lights were off inside the restaurant, and Sunset was able to leave the garden via the front gate without anyone questioning her presence or trying to stop her.

The street beyond was not completely deserted; it was occupied by Valish soldiers wandering aimlessly down it, unarmed, with no discipline, no order, no sense of where they were going. They shambled down the street, looking even more under the control of some other will than when Sonata … no, no, actually, it was not so; if they had been under the control of another, then they would have looked more purposeful than this.

But Sunset was glad of their lack of purpose, because it meant that none of them tried to hinder Sunset in her passage as she returned to where she had left her bike when she and Councillor Emerald had come here to try and stop Sonata.

Sunset glanced upwards and hoped that the Atlesians were as good at medicine as they were thought to be at warfare.

Sunset turned into the side alley. Her bike was there, waiting for her; nobody had taken it. There was a part of Sunset that wouldn't have been surprised to find that Cinder had stolen it, just because she could, just to annoy Sunset, but she hadn't. She had left it there, for Sunset.

Did Cinder know how to ride a bike?

Sunset preferred to think that Cinder's inaction was the result of some generosity of spirit on her part, rather than incapacity.

Or she just hadn't found the bike.

Regardless, Sunset's motorcycle was still here, waiting for her. Sunset pulled it away from the wall and climbed aboard; without aura, it felt a little harder between her legs, and when she started it off, she felt not only the familiar purr of the engine but also a more unexpected throbbing sound beneath her, juddering her a little bit, making her tailbone bump up and down.

Nevermind, it wasn't actively unpleasant, and though it might become a little wearing in time, she could stand it.

Her trusty mount would get her where she wanted, where she needed to go.

And so, with the engine growling beneath her, Sunset set off; she had to go a little slower than she would have liked at first, weaving between the shambling soldiers who headed down the road so aimlessly, with as little care for where they were standing as they seemed to have for where they were going. Because they were all over the place, not keeping to one side or part of the road at all, Sunset had to go slowly so that she could go around them. It didn't seem likely that they would make way for her, and so, she weaved and leaned and turned her bike as nimbly as it would turn to avoid hitting any of them, only being able to really open the throttle up at all once she had gotten out in front of the soldiers and had some open road before her.

Sunset counted herself lucky that it was still open road. Now that martial law was over, there was no curfew in effect, and there were no Valish soldiers patrolling the roads telling people to stay indoors or they would be shot; there was nothing stopping anyone from leaving their homes and crowding the streets.

Nothing but fear. Fear of the grimm, fear of the military if they didn't believe everything that Councillor Emerald had said, fear of the grimm cultists.

That last one wasn't really a fear, was it? Well, it was, but it wasn't an irrational fear.

Neither were the grimm.

There were plenty of reasons to stay indoors still; for all that a front door or locked windows would offer scant protection from them, it still felt less unwise than stirring abroad.

That kind of anxiety, the fear spread by the events of the night so far, might only make the grimm more eager to assault the city, but Sunset could hardly blame the people for being nervous. They had been given cause.

And she didn't even want to blame them because it was good for her. The roads were open, and she could drive her bike quickly down them without having to worry about being stuck in traffic.

The city was quiet. Subdued. Understandably so. There were still few lights on in the houses, although this wasn't a part of the city that had been blacked out. People were just keeping their lights off, or their curtains drawn, or both. Sunset saw no one. Not even stray cats or dogs were out on the road. The skies, too, were clear; the Atlesian airships had all pulled out, gone beyond the city to defend against the grimm, and as for the Valish, their airships were grounded in the wake of the recent unpleasantness.

The skies were … not quite empty; there was a Bullhead flying over Vale, a single Bullhead, as far as Sunset could make out: the airship was lit up but unaccompanied; no others flew in formation with it, no others were nearby. Just the one Bullhead, flying over the rooftops of Vale.

Because it was so rare, a single airship in an otherwise empty sky, and because the roads were as empty as the sky, the Bullhead not only drew Sunset's attention but held it there, her eyes fixed upon the airship as it traversed the skies.

Her eyes fixed upon the airship as a rocket or a missile flew up from one of the buildings beneath, from a medium-rise apartment building by the look of it, and hit the Bullhead on the wing. There was the flash of an explosion, a roaring that was dim by the time it reached Sunset, and then the Bullhead began to drop, flames and smoke streaming from one engine, descending out of sight beneath the cityscape.

Change of plans, Sunset thought as she turned off at the nearest exit, away from the skydock and in the direction of where she had seen that Bullhead go down. She didn't know who was on it or who had shot it down, or why, but she assumed that the people doing the shooting were the bad guys, which meant that there was someone there on that airship — hopefully, assuming they had survived the crash — that needed help.

And that was as good a reason to head in that direction as any.

And if nobody had survived the crash, then … better to confirm that for herself with her own eyes rather than merely assuming it.

Sunset turned off the main road that had been carrying her through Vale and back onto narrower streets, side streets, alleyways. This district was, if she remembered her map of Vale correctly, known as Laceyton, and it was a district of contradictions: some of the wealthiest people in Vale lived here, alongside some of the very poorest. Sunset drove down streets of terraced houses three storeys high, with stoops and ornate railings and large windows, so similar to the Canterlot of Equestria that it was almost like being back home; she drove beneath narrow tower blocks with small windows that cast looming shadows over her. It was from one of those tower blocks that the rocket that brought down the bullhead had been fired. Sunset also saw some evidence that perhaps the terraced houses, with their old red brickwork and their railings and their ornamental door knockers had also not been spared the madness of this night: she drove past more than one door open, perhaps broken in, no light emerging from out of the houses.

Sunset didn't stop to check on them. She didn't know what had happened here, for all that the signs indicated that nothing good had, but she knew, because she had seen it, that an airship had gone down near here, and that someone might be in trouble unless she got to them.

Then someone ran out of one of the houses, out of the open doorway, stumbling down the stoop, nearly tripping and falling down the steps, momentum carrying him out into the road where he held up one hand to Sunset.

Sunset turned her bike rapidly, throwing out one foot to stop her bike as it skidded to a halt; that felt a bit different when you didn't have any aura — she felt it considerably more in her leg and wasn't sure that it looked cool enough to be worth the sensation — but nevertheless, however much pressure it put on her leg and her feet as both of them scraped across the tarmac of the road, she nevertheless came to a stop without hitting the kid who had scrambled out of the house and into the middle of the road.

Sunset called him a kid, but he was probably about the same age as her, maybe even a little bit older, although he didn't look particularly older; he also didn't look younger, either. He had a narrow face that put Sunset in mind of Russel a little bit, with close-cropped dark hair on top of his head and big ears sticking out on either side. He had a wart under his lip, which was unfortunately large and obvious, particularly as his lips were quite thin. His teeth were a little bit yellow, which Sunset was close enough to him to see when he opened his mouth, and his eyes were blue. He had stubble growing on his cheeks and chin, indifferently shaved: in some places, quite closely cropped, in other places, barely touched by a razor. He wore a dark hoodie with some sort of cheap design upon it, a square image printed across the chest that had cracked and peeled so much it was scarcely recognizable.

Plus, there was blood on his hoodie, and on his dark blue jeans and trainers as well — he wore the same kind of trainers as Jaune, Sunset noticed — which made it even harder to make out what remained of the design on his hoodie.

He had one hand thrust into the pocket of his hoodie while he lowered the other, the one which he had raised to bring Sunset to a stop.

Sunset raised the visor of her helmet. "What…?" She stopped herself from saying 'what's wrong' because the amount of blood made it kind of obvious. For the same reason, it felt wrong to ask 'are you okay?' "You need help," she said, as a statement, not as a question.

"You … you're armed," the young man said. "Are you a huntress?"

"Something like that," Sunset said. "What happened?"

The young man hesitated. "Can I … can I see your face?"

Sunset blinked, but decided that considering what it seemed like what this lad had been through, he was entitled to an odd request. Maybe he just wanted to be sure she was a person; shock could make people feel or think funny things, and traumatic experiences … Sunset knew how they could mess with your head.

So she pulled off her helmet, and smiled reassuringly at him. "Hey," she said. "My name's Sunset Shimmer. And I … I'm here to help you, if you need it. And I've gotta say, you look like you need it."

"Sunset Shimmer," he repeated slowly. "That … that's a pretty name," he murmured. He stared at her. "You've got a pretty face too."

"Um … thanks," Sunset said softly. "Listen, why don't you start by telling me your name, and—"

"She was pretty too," he said, his whole body trembling.

Sunset tilted her head a little to one side. "Who was?"

The young man twitched. "Heather," he said. "Her name was Heather. I … I used to see her, walking to school. Different school to me, of course. I live a couple of streets away, up in…" He trailed off for a second. "But I used to see her. She laughed at me." He wiped his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. "She said that I smelled. She thought she was too good for me, thought she was too good for the likes of us, but…" Again, he trailed off, and this time, he didn't start up again.

Sunset looked down at his hand, the one that she couldn't see because he had it hidden in his hoodie pocket. "I'm going to need you to show me your other hand," she said softly. "I won't ask you again."

The young man's face twitched. "Why?" he asked. "I bet, I bet you think that you're—"

"I said show me your hand!" Sunset snapped, raising her own hand, wreathed in green magic, the green glow that engulfed the young man too as she grabbed him entire in telekinesis, lifting him up off his feet while he struggled and squirmed futilely against her magic.

She spread his arms, both of them, out on either side of him.

In the hand that he had kept in his pockets, he held a knife, one of the kind that they called chill knives, although Sunset wasn't quite sure why — something to do with movies, she thought. It was long for a knife — long for a knife that some random kid was carrying around anyway; she might not have thought much of it in the hands of a huntsman or huntress — with a curved blade and a serrated edge on the inside.

Sunset's fingers twitched, and she magically twisted the young man's hand — he winced in pain — so that the knife fell out of his hand and clattered to the ground at her feet.

Sunset kept her magical grip on the young man as she bent down to pick up the knife. It had a snarling beowolf's head engraved on the blade, along with the word RIPPER.

Sunset looked up at the young man, her lips twisting with disgust. Her gaze turned towards the doorway that he had emerged from. When he had stumbled out of the house, she had thought that it must have been his house, that he had been attacked, that he was a survivor, but now…

Now, darker possibilities filled her mind.

She should have known; she should have suspected from his hoodie with its faded design, his worn out jeans, his look. He didn't look as though he belonged in a house like this, with ornate wrought iron railings and an antique stone front.

He was looking down at her as she held him helpless and suspended. His eyes were wide with fear.

As well they should be, if what she was starting to think — to fear — had happened had, in fact, happened.

Sunset kept him held up with magic as she left her bike behind and walked up the steps, the same steps that the young man had stumbled out of.

Inside the house was dark, without even the little moonlight that fell upon the street, without the light of the street lamps that wasn't reaching inside the door. Sunset tossed the chill knife away — it wasn't something she fancied adding to her collection — and with her now-free hand, she fumbled for a light switch. She couldn't find one; her searching fingers felt only patterned wallpaper, some sort of undulating, rising and falling; she couldn't tell what it was, but she imagined maybe flowers. Flowers were the sort of thing you might find on three-dimensional wallpaper.

You might find flowers, but Sunset wasn't finding a light switch, so she cast the night vision spell upon her eyes so that she could see inside the dark house.

What she saw was a spacious hallway, with a wide staircase with fancy, old-fashioned looking rails that curved and twisted around one another like thorns. The floor was wooden, covered in smashed crockery and discarded flowers — and stained with blood.

Two people lay dead, tied to chairs; they were middle-aged, a man and a woman; he wore a sweater-vest and a shirt with cufflinks, she wore a dress with a flower-print pattern and a pearl necklace. Their faces were frozen in a rictus of fear, eyes wide, staring lifelessly out, mouths hanging open as though they had … as though they had died screaming.

Sunset's chest rose and fell. She could feel her heart beating more rapidly.

They had both been … Sunset swallowed; she could feel bile rising in her throat. They had both been stabbed more than once. In fact, they had both been stabbed repeatedly, and cut. They had wounds … she couldn't tell what colour his sweater-vest had been, and she could only tell that her dress had flowers on it from down near the bottom and the shoulders where there was less blood.

And then there was the blood on the floor, the blood in which someone had painted some sort of symbol; it reminded Sunset of Jaune's symbol, the double crescent, except that here, the crescents were bisected by a … a diamond? An arrow? It was hard to make out; it wasn't a particularly good drawing.

Plus, it was drawn in blood.

Either way, the crescent was surrounded by a star, an eight-pointed star.

Symbols weren't unknown in Equestrian magic, although they weren't common either; they were only really required for spells of exceptional complexity.

And in Equestria, they didn't require sacrifice.

There was a dead girl in the centre of the symbol; Sunset didn't know if the symbol had been made with her blood or that of the older two whom she could only presume to be her parents, just as she could only presume that this was Heather. She had magenta-coloured hair splayed out around her head, and pale skin, and green eyes that stared out as lifelessly as the eyes of her parents.

Her t-shirt was so bloody Sunset could barely see the Schnee snowflake on it. Her wrists and ankles were bound, and the ropes were likewise stained with blood.

There was a lot of blood.

Sunset turned away. She had to turn away, or she was going to be sick.

It was just as he'd said, Heather had been a pretty girl. Probably even prettier when those lifeless green eyes had been alive and had light in them.

Sunset's hands clenched into fists. The young man groaned in pain.

Sunset didn't care. In fact, there was a part of her that relished the sound.

Her mouth twisted with anger, her teeth bared like a hound as she stomped down the stoop and pulled the young man towards her, lowering him so that his feet almost touched the ground.

"You," she snarled, "are going to tell me what happened, and if you tell me everything quickly enough, then maybe — maybe — I won't jam one of these rails into your eye!"

"She had it coming, they all did!" the young man shouted. "All of them, they think they're better than us."

"'Us'?" Sunset asked. "You weren't alone, were you?"

The young man's face twitched; he bared his teeth at her just as Sunset had bared hers at him; she feared that his teeth were more frightening, yellow as they were, with gums that were worn away to make his canines look even bigger, crooked and unevenly worn. She was put in mind of a dog, a wild dog that could do with being put down.

"The rough beast is slouching towards Vytal," he said. "And when it gets there, it's not just going to claim four crowns, no. It's going to eat the rich. It's going to gobble them all up raw. The grimm are going to kill them all—"

"Then why did you go and kill that girl?" Sunset demanded.

"We have to show our commitment," the young man said. "That's what he said, that's what he told us: when the grimm arrive, we have to prove that we're worthy; we have to make a sacrifice in blood!"

"Who told you?" Sunset demanded. "Is it your friends setting off rockets? Did they shoot down that airship?"

"We're making offerings to the darkness," the young man said. "As many as we can. We're taking down the ones who look down on us and those who defend them."

"Not right now you're not," Sunset growled. "So how come you're still here when everyone else has gone? You made your offering, why stick around?"

The young man didn't answer, and Sunset found that she was actually quite glad of that. It was a question which, although she might have asked it, she wasn't sure that she actually wanted to know the answer.

And now … now she had to decide what she was going to do with him.

It wasn't as though she had a police car that she could bundle him into. She could call the police, but would they even answer?

She probably ought to try calling them, before she got into any darker ideas.

Sunset didn't want to be a taker of lives, after all.

Sunset's other hand began to glow as she magically grabbed hold of some of the iron railings outside the house of Heather, the house that this young man and his fellow grimm cultists — for that was surely what he was — had broken into and murdered the inhabitants. She held the young man still as she ripped the wrought iron railings free. The metal groaned as Sunset twisted it, bending the rails as though they were ropes — not quite; ropes would have bent much more easily — to wrap around the young man, binding his arms and legs and rendering him utterly immobile.

Sunset dumped him down on the pavement, hands tied, arms stuck to his sides, legs bound.

"You're gonna die too!" he shouted. "You're all gonna die! The rough beast—"

"Can bite my tail!" Sunset snapped. "Now shut up, or I'll gag you as well!"

"You can't stop it," he declared. "You might as well try and stop the tide, a tide that will—

Sunset rolled her eyes as she snapped her fingers.

The young man's mouth disappeared. His eyes bulged, and wordless — obviously — moaning sounds emerged from … well, behind that layer of skin.

The moans and groans became increasingly panicked.

Sunset was very tempted to leave him like that, but if she didn't come back at some point, then he was going to starve to death, or some doctor would slice his face open, neither of which would be ideal.

So she snapped her fingers again, and his mouth returned.

"Quiet!" Sunset commanded, jabbing her finger towards him as, with her other hand, she got out her scroll.

She called the police and waited.

Her scroll indicated that it was dialling; there was no response. She was getting a signal, that was indicated clearly enough, but no answer.

Then the dialling indicator switched to a green call sign — unfortunately followed by an automated message.

"Thank you for calling the Vale Police Department," said a voice which sounded as though it had recorded each word separately and out of context, such was the stilted cadence and awkward pauses between each word. "Unfortunately, there are no operators available to take your call at the moment, so please leave a message appropriate to the police service that you require, and an operator will respond to you as soon as possible. If your life is in imminent danger, please press One. If you would like to report a crime in progress, please press Two. If you would like to report a crime that has already concluded, please press Three."

Sunset pressed three. There was a pause.

"Thank you for reporting a historic offence," said the same automated voice. Sunset tapped her foot impatiently as it went on. "Due to the fact that the offence in question is no longer in progress, officers may not be able to respond immediately as historic offences will be treated as a secondary priority. Please leave a message after the tone, being sure to give your name, address, and scroll number so that officers can contact you. Thank you."

There was a beep.

"Hello," Sunset said. "This is Sunset Shimmer of Beacon Academy." Hopefully, that would move someone to take this with a modicum of seriousness. "I'm at…" — she looked around for a street sign, finding one a few yards away — "Cavendish Street, where a house has been broken into and a family has been murdered. I've secured the killer, and I've left him tied up outside the house — it's number Fourteen, Cavendish Street. He confessed to me. I've got to go now, I've seen an airship crash that I need to check out, but if someone could come and pick him up and arrest him, that would be great, thank you." She hung up and put her scroll away.

"Don't go anywhere," she told the young man as she climbed back onto her bike.

"You can't win," the young man insisted. "He told us, he told us that it's inevitable."

"He's got another thing coming then, hasn't he?" Sunset replied as she pulled her helmet on.

If he said anything else, then Sunset didn't hear him because of the way that her helmet muffled her ears. Not that she minded; she'd heard quite enough out of him already.

Sunset started up her bike and left the young man in his bloodstained clothes bound in iron on the street. Meanwhile, she rode away, towards where she had seen the airship crash.

She still believed that she was heading in the right direction.

Sunset didn't regret the diversion, exactly; if someone on the airship had died, if she got there too late, then she would regret, but in the circumstances, what ought she have done? Ignore the person stumbling out of the house covered in blood who looked like he needed help? Yes, she hadn't been able to save the family, but there was no way that she could have known that at the time.

And she had learned something: she had learned that there was a particular cell of grimm cultists operating in this area — or whatever the name for a group of grimm cultists was, a congregation or a flock or even a gang — that weren't interested in attacking vital infrastructure, but in simply killing as many people in their immediate vicinity as possible.

No doubt, it made sense to them.

As Sunset drove, she couldn't help but think of what the young man had said; yes, he was violent, deranged, but at the same time … with rich and poor living so close together, it wasn't too surprising that some of the poor would fall into … bad habits, for want of a better term. Fall to anger and resentment, just like the faunus with the White Fang.

It didn't excuse breaking into someone's house and killing her because she said that you smelled, but it did make Sunset wonder how many grimm cultists there were in this part of town.

It was a little disconcerting; the stereotypical grimm cultist, if there was such a thing, was better heeled, someone with money, maybe someone from a respectable occupation like a doctor or a lawyer, an upstanding member of society, a pillar of the community, someone who didn't have to struggle except to restrain their dark appetites and veil them from the world. Someone who was bored and susceptible to the transgressive allure of monster worship, human sacrifice, and a secret double life.

At least that was what Principal Celestia had said.

'That, or idiots,' as Vice-Principal Luna had added.

Grimm cultists were, ironically, supposed to lurk in nice houses like the one that that young man had broken into, not in the cramped high-rises of the poor and the dispossessed.

At least, that was what Sunset had been taught.

Perhaps people remember when wealthy grimm cultists get caught because it's always shocking to them.

Anyway, what worried Sunset was the prospect that there might be a lot more where that guy came from, hordes of angry grimm cultists lurking in the towers that rose around her, waiting for their opportunity to spill out and take their revenge on a society that had condemned them to have so little when their neighbours had so much.

And considering that she'd seen a rocket fired from the roof of one such tower, Sunset couldn't help but look around anxiously, wondering if she might see a rocket fired at her next, or whether she would simply have her head blown off by a sniper rifle and never see it coming.

I really wish I had my aura back. Sadly, there was no sign of its return just yet. Sunset would just have to keep going and keep her eyes and ears open.

She heard the gunshots and immediately began to swerve, leaning left and then right, leaning so far that her elbows and knees were almost touching the tarmac as she weaved wildly across the road, avoiding straight lines completely to throw off their aim.

She looked up. She could see muzzle flashes coming from the roof; the people shooting at her were firing in single shots, not bursts of fire like from an automatic weapon. Just one shot at a time, none of which were hitting her, thank Celestia. She counted two, no, three guns. Three muzzle flashes from three different parts of the roof, but all coming from the one roof, the same roof that the rocket had come from that had hit that Bullhead; she was certain of it.

With luck, that would mean that there were only grimm cultists in that one building, or at least that they had only come from that one building.

That would make things a lot easier and would perhaps make living in the community easier for both sides afterwards.

One building, one group of cultists under the leadership of this 'he' who had told them to go out and kill people for the grimm rather than following the plan that Salem's agents had laid down.

I suppose, not knowing about Salem, these people don't really know that they should obey her servants.

That one building, the building from which they were shooting at her but not hitting her, would be her objective — once she reached the crash site.

Even in the dark of the night, she could see the smoke rising from it now.

Sunset turned off, escaping the fire from that particular tower by driving around another, putting the large building between her and her opponents. The shooting stopped. Nobody else fired at her from on top of her cover.

Sunset dismounted and started to take off her helmet; then wondered if she might be better leaving it on. No, it wasn't bulletproof, and it reduced her field of vision and muffled her hearing. She'd be better off with it off and trusting in noticing the enemy rather than being able to take a blow to the head.

So she took off her helmet and unslung Sol Invictus from off her shoulder.

She thought that she could hear gunshots, not the somewhat distant gunshots that had come from people shooting at her, but closer by, gunshots coming from … were they coming from near the Bullhead crash?

Possibly. Sunset couldn't rule it out. And since she couldn't rule it out, then she would have to check it out.

She crouched down and peered around the corner. Another consequence of being without aura was that she couldn't rush to anyone's aid, even though she might want to, or she could end up dead before she got any chance to render any aid at all.

She poked as little of her head out from hiding as she possibly could while seeing anything at all. No rocket streaked through the night towards her, no sniper blew her head off. Nobody even shot her.

Sunset waited, taking a breath, and then another.

The sounds of gunfire, though they fluctuated in intensity, lessening a little, reminded her that she couldn't sit here all night.

Here goes.

Sunset sprang from out of cover, running as fast as she could across the street between the tower behind which she'd taken cover and a couple of large bins stood up against the back of a house. She crouched there, waiting for another second, waiting for a shot that didn't come, hoping that that meant that they hadn't seen her, perhaps even that they hadn't been looking that way.

I really miss aura.

But there was a straight street in front of her, not a row of the nice terraced houses, but a commercial street, with a bodega and a laundromat and a fish and chip place by the look of it and a couple of other places that Sunset couldn't … a florist, maybe. Anyway, they were all shut up right now, dark, the signs unlit; that was part of the reason why Sunset couldn't see them too clearly. They were also all two storeys high and would protect her from the direction of the tower.

Though not from the direction of the shooting, which was coming from right in front of her.

Another deep breath.

If I get shot, I'll get hurt.

I might even die.

The firing continued. Unlike the single shots fired at her, someone was firing automatically, blazing away; their gun was making a sort of purr sound.

Okay then.

Sunset ran towards the sound of the shooting, the sound of that one gun that was all that she could hear. She pulled back the hammer on Sol Invictus, ready to raise it to her shoulder as soon as she could see something to shoot at.

She could smell burning, burning dust, burning metal. And the sound of that gun was getting closer and closer.

Until, abruptly, it stopped. It stopped as a man with a rifle was hurled backwards with a squawk of alarm to land with a crack on the tarmac of the road. His rifle slipped from his hands, and he didn't move.

"You people," a familiar yet unexpected voice declared, "are getting on my last nerve!"

A figure in white strode around the corner, a figure luminous in the darkness of night, her white dress shimmering, her white hair aglow, her pale skin seeming even paler under the silver light of the moon.

"Weiss?"

 

[ScipioSmith]

Chill Out

​

"Weiss?" Sunset said, her eyes boggling. Of all the people…

Weiss turned towards her, inadvertently pointing the blade of her slender rapier up towards Sunset's midriff. The slight widening of her own eyes seemed to make her scar disappear. "Sunset?"

"You were in that airship that went down?" Sunset asked. "What were you doing there?"

"I could just as well ask you what you're doing here," Weiss replied. "But yes, I was in the airship."

"I saw the crash," Sunset said. "I saw your Bullhead get shot down. I was coming to see if there was anything I could do to help."

"Kind of you," Weiss murmured. "But fortunately and unfortunately, there's nothing you can do. I … am the only survivor, and as you've just seen, I can take care of myself."

"Who … else was in there with you?" Sunset asked; she knew where Cardin and Flash were, but Russel was still unaccounted for.

"Just the pilot," Weiss said. "I got his body out of the wreck, but … he died in the crash." She paused. "So … what are you doing in Vale; I thought you were leaving on a mission to Mount Aris."

"It's a little difficult to leave Vale at the moment," Sunset replied. "What are you doing flying into Vale?"

"I thought that I could be of more use here in Vale than as just one more sword on the lines beyond the city," Weiss replied. "Since I've worked with the VPD in the past, I thought they might appreciate my assistance restoring order here in the city." She paused. "How much do you know about everything that's been going on tonight?"

"I…" Sunset paused, glancing away for a second. "I … I know about Flash."

Weiss let out a little breath, not quite a gasp but on its way there. "I … see," she whispered. "May I ask how?"

"I had to take … someone up to the Atlesian medical frigate," Sunset explained. "I ran into Cardin there; he told me."

"Ah," Weiss murmured. "I see. I think? Who was it?"

"Who was who?"

"The person you were taking up the medical frigate?"

"Does it matter?"

"I'm a little curious about what you've been up to," Weiss said.

Sunset couldn't have put into words why she felt awkward about admitting this, but feel awkward she did; perhaps it was just the fact that this was an awkward situation all around. Of all the people that she would have chosen to run into tonight, Weiss wasn't on the list — at least, not after what Sunset had found out about Flash. She probably wouldn't have minded so much beforehand, but…

"It was Councillor Emerald," Sunset admitted. "He was wounded at the Military Headquarters, putting a stop to…"

"The military firing on the Atlesians?" Weiss suggested.

"And other things," Sunset said. "It wasn't exactly the fault of the soldiers, General Blackthorn…" She tried to remember the excuse that Councillor Emerald had come up with. "There was a gas leak in the headquarters, and it drove the officers a little mad. Councillor Emerald had to step in and restore order, but … he got shot in the process."

Weiss blinked. "A gas leak."

"Or a fault in the air filters, something like that," Sunset said. "I can't remember the exact thing, but they weren't in their right minds is the point."

"Mmm," Weiss murmured. "Well, I'm sure the surgeons aboard the medical frigate will take good care of him. Just as they'll take good care of Flash." She paused for a second. "I'm … sorry."

Sunset frowned slightly. "Sorry for what?"

"About Flash, obviously!" Weiss snapped. "What else would I be apologising for?"

"I don't know," Sunset said. "But I do know that I'm not the one you need to apologise to; Flash … I've had no claim on him for a long time. I'm sorry that he … it … I don't know how to express how much he didn't deserve to have this happen to him; it's wrong and cruel and unjust. I hate it. I hate to imagine what his life will be like now. But I don't need an apology from you." Now it was her turn to pause for a second. "I suppose … I suppose you'll be wanting a new teammate for next year, huh?"

Weiss went very quiet. She became silent, in fact. Myrtenaster trembled in her hand for a moment, before Weiss' right hand, her free hand, flew upwards through the air to slap Sunset across the face.

There was a crack, and Sunset's head whipped around to one side, her fiery hair flying all around her. She staggered sideways a step, clutching at her face. "Ow! That hurt!"

"GOOD!" shouted Weiss. "It was supposed to hurt! That's the point of slapping somebody, to hurt them!" She wheeled away, her wedge heels tapping on the ground as she stomped up and down. "How … how dare you? How dare you suggest—?"

"What, that you're a product of your culture?" Sunset asked. "I know how Atlas treats people with prosthetics, the way it looks at them, the same way that it looks at the faunus. Like they're broken, imperfect—"

"Just because I am Atlesian does not mean that I am Atlas!" Weiss snapped. "I mean, just because I'm Atlesian doesn't mean that I hold every attitude that someone from Atlas might have. Am I a racist just because some of my countrymen are?"

Sunset rubbed at her face where she'd been slapped. It was smarting, she could feel her cheek throbbing; she wouldn't be surprised if it left a mark. "No," she admitted. "At least not that I've noticed."

"Then why would you assume that I would turn my back on Flash just because he was injured fighting alongside me?" Weiss demanded. "Or did you hope I would?"

"No!" Sunset cried. "No, I … absolutely not! I told you, I have no claim on Flash, and he has none on me either; I just … you can't deny that it … that people think like that."

"No," Weiss admitted. "No, I don't deny it; I admit that there are some people who feel that way, who look at people who have had to replace their limbs with … in a certain way." She stopped pacing and whirled, ponytail flying, to look Sunset in the eye. "But I'm not one of them. I won't be one of them, especially not with Flash. He's still the man he was, and I still … care a great deal about him."

Sunset was silent for a second or two. "I'm glad to hear it," she said softly. "Because he deserves someone he can rely on." She rubbed her cheek just a little more, then lowered her hand from it. "I shouldn't have prejudged you so harshly. There was no reason to assume—"

"The worst?" Weiss finished for her. "No, there wasn't, but I can understand why you did. You still care about him yourself, don't you?"

"I want good things for him," Sunset replied. "As I said, he deserves them, even if he hasn't gotten them so far. Anyway, you have my apology, and my gratitude." She glanced down at Myrtenaster in Weiss' hand. "On an unrelated note, would you mind pointing that somewhere else; my aura is a little … broken, at the moment."

"Oh, right," Weiss said, tilting Myrtenaster so the point was aimed down at the ground. "You know, when I tried to fight with my aura broken, I almost got killed by a griffon."

"That … was before Flash and Cardin—"

"Yes," Weiss said. "That was after my loss to Pyrrha in the arena. You know that she—"

"Beat you in the final, yes, I do," Sunset said.

"Not that it matters now, except that my aura was left very low by the time she was through with me," Weiss explained. "I didn't want to retreat, and so, my aura was broken. And I was still in a better state than you."

"I'm not helpless without my aura, just … vulnerable," Sunset replied. "More vulnerable than usual. Aura or not, I can't just hide and wait for it to come back; I can't sit by or even stand by while they're fighting. They are still fighting, aren't they?"

"I presume so," Weiss answered. "After Beacon was cleared of grimm, most of the students went out to the lines outside the city. It seemed as if the grimm might attack."

"But you came here instead?"

"One more sword wouldn't make any difference out there," Weiss said. "But I might be able to make a difference in here."

"Fair enough," Sunset answered. "That's… more or less why I'm here, too."

"That," Weiss went on. "And I didn't want any sympathy from the likes of Blake and Rainbow Dash. They'd mean well, I'm sure, but I didn't want to hear how sorry they were about Flash, or how they're sure that he'll be okay, and how marvellous prosthetic limbs are in Atlas these days, or how I should stick with them since I don't have a team of my own anymore, for my own safety." She sighed. "As I said, I know that they'd mean well, and that any sympathies sent my way would be sincere and well meant, but … that doesn't mean that I want to hear them. On my own, I could—"

"I'm sorry to interrupt your solitude, but why are you on your own?" Sunset asked. "What happened to Russel?"

"I sent Russel up to the Amity Arena," Weiss explained. "His aura was broken," — she raised an eyebrow at Sunset — "and in any case, after what happened to Flash and Cardin, he was a little … unfocussed. I was worried that he would … it was best for him to take a rest." She tilted her head a little. "It might be best for you to take a rest as well."

"No," Sunset said flatly.

Weiss shook her head. "I'm sure there would be a few people who would be upset if they had to bury you."

"I don't intend to be buried, or cremated," Sunset responded. "I told you, I'm not helpless. I've already come across a grimm cultist, and I took care of him just fine without aura."

"A grimm cultist? Here?"

"Who do you think shot at you?" asked Sunset. "I saw the missile hit your Bullhead from a tower over there." She gestured in the direction of the tower block from which the rocket and the shots had come. "We can't see it from here, and they can't see us, which is good because they took shots at me too. Now, the grimm cultist told me that his group have been causing chaos in this area, the area where they live." She bit her lip. "I came across a house they'd broken into. What they'd done to the people who lived there … wasn't pretty."

Weiss frowned. "The grimm cultists are all attacking critical infrastructure. Power plants, television studios—"

"Not this group," Sunset said. "Apparently, it's down to their leader; he's told them to…" — she shuddered — "to shed blood to prove to the grimm that they are worthy."

Weiss made a shivering sound, although her body did not tremble. "I'll never understand such people. To venerate and worship man-eating monsters, the insanity of it. So what you're saying is that they're spread out across this district, committing violent acts?"

"Perhaps, but I'm not so sure," Sunset replied. "When I came across this particular cultist, he was all alone; the others had all gone—"

"Moved on to their next victim?"

"Or they'd gone back to the tower they're based out of," Sunset said. "These are poor people, to put it bluntly; whoever their leader is, it seems he's been using resentment of their rich neighbours to recruit followers. I've been shot at from the roof, and you've been brought down from that same roof, and how many people can grimm worship really attract? I think if we head to that tower where the shots and the missile came from, we stand a good chance of catching their leader, maybe the whole group. At the very least, it's a place to start, and a vantage point. We can find out how many other cultists there are, where they've gone, do what we have to do. And as you say, the other attacks were all focused on infrastructure; I'm not sure how long it'll be before anyone shows up here. I tried to call the police, and I got no response. I think if anyone's going to deal with this, it will have to be us."

"You mean I'll have to," Weiss corrected her.

Sunset had to resist the urge to hit Weiss with some magic. It would have been very satisfying, and she probably would have done it, except that, having already been in an airship crash, Weiss' aura might not be up to it.

Instead, rolling her eyes, Sunset raised one finger and shot a bolt of green magic just past Weiss' face, missing her by a hair, making the hairs of her ponytail dance as though in a sudden breeze as the magic shot past to hit the wall of a house beyond. It chipped the brickwork a little, but did not more than that.

It was enough to make Weiss stare at Sunset regardless.

"For the last time, I am not helpless," Sunset declared. "I'm just … vulnerable, that's all."

Weiss continued to stare at her. "But … your semblance … how?"

"My semblance," Sunset began. "Is … not exactly my semblance."

Weiss' eyes had been wide; now, they narrowed in suspicion. "Not exactly your semblance?"

"Not at all my semblance then, if you must," confessed Sunset. "Which is as much as I will say or you need to know; suffice to say that I can be of use. And do you really want to do this all by yourself?"

"I could," Weiss said at once. "I am prepared to." She glanced down at the sword in her hand. "I would rather that than lead someone else into—"

"What happened to Flash and Cardin … I'm sure you did everything you could," Sunset told her. "It doesn't make you a bad leader, and it doesn't mean you have to shun all company hereafter. Especially since that would mean shunning Flash, which you've already assured me that you won't do." She ventured a small smile. "Besides, who said anything about you leading me anywhere?"

"Well," Weiss said, "if we are going to work together, then, as I'm the one of us who is currently bulletproof, I think I'm the one who should go first, don't you?"

"Are we going to work together?" asked Sunset.

Weiss hesitated for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was soft. "Take care," she said. "I'd rather not tell Pyrrha that I was there when you died."

Sunset snorted. "You won't have to catch my last words, don't worry." She gestured, for the second time, in the direction of the tower block from which both rocket and gunfire had come, assailing both Sunset herself and Weiss' Bullhead. "It's that way."

Weiss nodded, and as she had said, she led the way in the indicated direction. Sunset let her take the lead without argument; as Weiss herself had stated, she was the one, of the two of them, who could get shot and not feel it, and so it made sense for her to be the one in front.

Although, in view of Weiss' somewhat diminutive size, it wasn't as if Sunset could hide behind her very effectively.

Nevertheless, it was generous of her to offer, and Sunset was not above admitting that she was glad of it.

She kept Sol Invictus in her hands, ready to fire over Weiss' head if any more enemies should show themselves.

Although, if she did shoot anyone, if she shot any of these grimm cultists who lurked around here, then they would probably be as dead as she would be if they shot her. The young man that Sunset had left trussed up in iron rails had no aura — Sunset wouldn't have been able to pick him up so easily if he had — and what were the chances of others of his ilk, of people like that, from a place like this, having their auras unlocked? Perhaps their leader, this mysterious 'him' who had defied the plans that Cinder and Tempest Shadow had made to concentrate on terror and bloodshed closer to home, had unlocked the aura of some of his followers, but if some, then why not all? Why not the young man that Sunset had come across upon the road?

No, the chances were that nobody they met tonight — at least nobody that they met here, in this place — would have their aura. They would die to bullets or to well-placed blows.

They would be as dead as any grimm.

As dead as Adam.

That was … not something that Sunset was entirely comfortable with, if she was being honest. Killing people, taking life, pulling the trigger, and then … the look on Adam's face remained with her. It was lodged permanently in her mind, and no eviction notice that Sunset could serve would budge it. It was claiming squatter's rights within her head.

She did not want it to be joined there by other such memories. She did not want the blood upon her hands; there was enough there already.

Just because they were in love with grimm didn't mean that she wanted to put them down like grimm.

Sunset slung her rifle back over her shoulder.

Weiss, who had been walking silently ahead of Sunset, turned her head slightly back towards her. "Is something wrong? Or would you just prefer to rely on your … on the thing that is not your semblance?"

"I can control the power level," Sunset replied. "I can make the strength nonlethal."

"I'm not sure why you'd want to," Weiss murmured.

"I don't want to kill anyone," Sunset said. "Even if they are grimm cultists."

"Didn't you say they've killed people already?" Weiss responded. "Those who live by the sword can't complain when they die by it."

"But not by mine," said Sunset quietly.

Weiss didn't respond. She turned her head away, looking once more straight ahead of them as she led the way.

She led the way down the side of the road, a road that was, like Cavendish Street that Sunset had lately come from, lined with high-class terraced housing, each three storeys high, with stone steps and iron rails and gates. Here, too, there were signs of break ins, with doors smashed in and doorways gaping open. No blood, though, that Sunset could see.

Perhaps it was simply where Sunset could not see it, but even that was something she was grateful for.

There were a couple of bikes — not motorcycles but pedal bikes, both of them a little undersized, one of them a vivid green and the other a brilliant red, both of them covered with stickers that were too small for Sunset to properly make them out — sitting next to one particular set of rails. Somewhat implausibly, they had been chained up to the rails themselves.

And behind the rails, one of the windows in the nearest house had been smashed.

Weiss stopped and glanced at Sunset over her shoulder. "You know," she said, "I can't help thinking that, in this sort of neighbourhood, there's room for a bicycle inside the house."

"I think you're probably right," Sunset acknowledged. "Although the idea of grimm cultists on … don't those look like very small bikes to you? Like kids' bikes?"

Weiss looked again. "I suppose," she said. "But that doesn't—"

The front door to the house opened, and two scruffy-looking boys in dark hoodies and torn jeans, with bulging backpacks slung across one shoulder each, started to emerge.

They were laughing.

"I can't wait until we get back and show the gang!" the one in front said. "This is going to be soooo epic; they're gonna—"

Both of them fell silent as they saw Weiss and Sunset.

"Oh, crap, bruv," the one behind explained as he pulled a pistol out of his hoodie pocket.

Sunset grabbed both boys and the pistol with her telekinesis, hoisting them up off the ground as she had done their older, more blood-stained confederate.

"They got superpowers!" moaned the one who had pulled the gun.

"Of course they do," said the other. "That's Weiss Schnee from off the telly, and that's the other one, the one who set herself on fire."

'The other one'? Sunset thought. 'The other one'? I had two great matches, and I'm 'the other one'?

She couldn't keep her lip from curling in irritation as she pulled the gun into her hand. It felt very light in her grasp. Probably because it was all moulded plastic, without a single metal or moving part to be seen as Sunset turned it over.

She pointed it at the ground and pulled the trigger. It made a sort of gun-like sound, but there was neither flash of the muzzle nor, indeed, any sign of a bullet.

Sunset looked at them. "Is this a toy?"

"You what?" asked the boy who had pulled the 'gun' on her in the first place. His hazel eyes bulged. "It's a toy! That Kenny G, he swore it was real. He told me it was one of them huntsmen guns, that was a toy gun, but it was also a gun. He swore on his life! I'm gonna kill him when I see him again!"

"What with?" Sunset asked dryly.

"If it's not a real gun, that means you can put us down now, right?" asked the other boy. "I mean, it's not like we did nothin'."

"So, this is your house?" asked Weiss.

The boy was silent for a second. "Well, maybe we was robbin' the place, but we didn't do nothin' else, honest. We didn't chase them out of their 'ouse or nothin'; that was—"

"Shhh!" the other boy, the one who had foolishly mistaken the toy gun for a real one, hissed. "Shut up, bruv, or you're dead!"

Weiss put one hand on her hip. "You're not in much position to be making threats."

"I'm not gonna kill him!" wailed the boy. "But everyone knows, if you talk about Dark Angel Tower, things go bad for you, bruv, like 'never seen again' bad."

"'Dark Angel Tower,'" Sunset repeated. "Is that the one over there?" She pointed in the direction of their unseen objective."

"I don't know," the boy with the toy gun said unconvincingly.

Weiss climbed a couple of the steps towards the open door, though she still had to look up at the levitating boys. "Sunset and I are huntresses," she reminded them. "You know that, you've seen us on TV, you know what we're capable of. If there's something going on here, something that you're scared of, then we can protect you. We can take of what's going on."

"Maybe she's right," the first boy out of the door said. "I mean you were pretty cool, shooting lasers and flying and all proper superhero stuff. I think you shoulda won that fight, you were way cooler than that other one; she was just borin', she didn't hardly do nothin'—"

"Get to the point," Sunset snapped.

"Calm down, Sunset," Weiss said, holding up one hand. She paused for a moment, looking up at the two boys. "My friend here is a little impatient, and I can only keep her restrained for so long. Now, if you keep stalling me, if you don't cooperate, then I'll have no choice but to assume that you're involved in all of this somehow, and then I'll have no choice but to let Sunset…"

The boy with the toy gun swallowed. "Let her what? What're you gonna let her to do to us?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise," Weiss said calmly. "Or, you can tell me what you know, and I'll not only let you both go — minus everything you stole from this house, obviously — but I'll also clean up your neighbourhood for you so you don't have to worry anymore."

Sunset folded her arms, even as her hands continued to glow green with magic.

She did her best to look menacing as she glowered at the two boys.

"Okay, okay!" cried the first boy. "We'll tell you everything! Dark Angel Tower, right, it's … it used to be like a normal place, right? Like, me and Spanner, we live in Firefly Tower, and it sucks, but it's whatever, yeah? Dark Angel Tower used to be like that; a couple of mates of ours used to live there. And then this guy moved in, and people just started … started disappearing, right. Not like they moved out, or maybe they did, but they were really quiet about it—"

"Or maybe they didn't," said the second boy.

"Yeah, yeah, or maybe that, maybe…" The first boy trailed off. "The only people who were left, the only people you see coming out of there, they're all members of this gang, right? And anyone who stands up to them ends up dead."

"They say they're found the next morning with their throats slit," added the second boy with a little too much relish.

"And anyone who goes up into that tower, even the police, they never come out again," said the first boy. "And if you're out at night, around that tower, you can hear things."

"What kind of things?" asked Weiss.

"Like … like growling," said the first boy. "Like there's a monster there or something. You don't want to go up there."

"Actually, I think we do," Weiss murmured.

"What about tonight?" demanded Sunset.

"Tonight, after the matches were over, we started to hear screaming and shooting," the first boy said. "And we went up onto the roof, and we could see the gang from Dark Angel Tower runnin' through the streets, and they had guns, and they were shootin' 'em, and people were runnin' out of their houses. And then the Dark Angel crew went into some of the houses, then they came out; after a while, they started comin' back to the tower, and we—"

"Decided to rob the houses," Sunset finished for them.

"They got so much stuff, man!" the boy with the toy gun cried. "They got consoles, designer trainers, everythin'! After they ran off … we weren't hurtin' anyone."

"Hmm," Weiss murmured. "Thank you both for your invaluable assistance." She turned away, descending the steps with her back to the two boys. "Put them down, Sunset."

Sunset unfolded her arms and released her magic, dumping the two boys somewhat heavily upon the steps.

Weiss put one hand on her hip. She didn't look at the two of them. "Leave the things you stole and go," she commanded coldly.

The two boys paused. "Just from this house or—"

"Leave the bags!" Weiss ordered, each word as heavy as an avalanche descending from a snow-capped peak.

"Right, right," the two boys agreed hastily, leaving their backpacks on the step and scrambling down them. They fumbled to unlock their chained up bicycles, casting anxious glances towards Sunset and Weiss as they did so, before finally unchaining them — leaving the chains — and riding off, pedalling furiously down the street.

Sunset climbed the steps. She picked up the two backpacks — they were both heavy; she wondered if the two boys could have managed to ride off with them — and put them back inside the house before she shut the door.

It seemed that, when the occupier returned to their home, hopefully tomorrow, they would find themselves in possession of someone else's belongings; hopefully, they could sort things out with the neighbours so that everything went back to its proper place. That wasn't something that Sunset and Weiss had time to take care of right now.

As she closed the door, Sunset couldn't help but say, "'I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise'?"

"It got them to talk, didn't it?" asked Weiss, a slight chuckle in her voice.

"True," Sunset admitted as she descended the steps. "And at least we know that we won't have to worry about civilians caught in the crossfire when we get there." She paused. "What do you make about this monster thing?"

"They could be mistaken," Weiss said. "They didn't seem like the brightest after all. But it's not impossible that there's a gigas there waiting for us."

"A gigas?" Sunset repeated.

"A possession grimm," Weiss said. "Not possessing people — this isn't a chill — it's more possession of … objects. It makes a shell for itself, and controls it."

"Like a geist?"

"Similar," Weiss said. "But different. Geists would be harder to smuggle into a city, but a gigas can be done. My father…" Her free hand rose to the scar on her face. "It can be done," she repeated. "I'm not saying it necessarily has been done, but it can be, so we shouldn't be too surprised if we reach the tower and find ourselves facing something like that."

Something like what? Sunset thought, because Weiss had been somewhat scant on details. Considering what she had said, however, the lack of detail probably wasn't her fault: a lot would depend on the shell of the gigas, and they couldn't guess what that might be ahead of time. They would just have to deal with it, whatever it looked like, when they saw it.

"Let's go," Weiss said. "We should keep moving."

Sunset had no objection to that, so she followed once more as Weiss took the lead continuing to walk down the pavement, past the silent houses on either side of them.

Having found out from the two idiots that these houses were so quiet because they were unoccupied — which Sunset could believe; in other neighbourhoods, people might be huddling behind closed doors waiting for the dawn to break and some clarity to return, but if you could hear things going on right outside your door, you might not want to stay behind it waiting for that door to be broken down — lent them a less foreboding air than they had once possessed. Sunset didn't need to imagine the frightened people on the other side because they weren't there, she didn't need to contemplate what they might see if they twitched their curtains to look out the window, she didn't have to worry what a stray shot might do.

It was good for her, and good for them too, she hoped, to be out of harm's way. She hoped that they had found somewhere safe to hunker down and wait for morning and the return of sanity.

She hoped, too, that thanks to the efforts of Weiss and herself, come morning, this place would be safe to return to.

Weiss reached the bottom of the street ahead of Sunset. There was a crossroad, with two sets of traffic lights, one on either side of the street, both positioned to cross the road that cut across, heading towards, amongst other places, Dark Angel Tower.

Weiss stepped out from behind the last terraced house, to be greeted immediately by the crack of a gun going off and a bullet hitting the pavement between Weiss' feet. It had missed her, but it was sufficient to make Weiss scramble back into cover behind the houses.

That didn't stop the people up on the tower from shooting some more, a fusillade ringing out from down the road to strike the corner of the house and the road where Weiss had stood a moment ago. Chips of brick were flung off the building to land before the two huntresses, but that was about all the shooters managed to do.

Sunset heard a boom and the hiss of a rocket.

She flung out her hands, conjuring a shield up around Weiss and herself as the rocket struck the street in front of them. Sunset felt the heat washing over the two of them, fire consuming the emerald barrier, the power of the explosion and the debris hammering against her magic, sending its impact reverberating through it back to Sunset herself. Sunset's arms shook slightly as the fire died down. The pavement had been torn up, the street light had been obliterated, the nearby windows had all been shattered and the walls scorched black where they had not had chunks blown out of the brickwork, but Sunset herself was quite intact, and Weiss looked to be in good shape also.

Weiss jammed Myrtenaster down into the ground, the point of the rapier piercing the wounded flagstones beneath them.

An array of pale blue glyphs began to appear, shimmering in the air, gently rotating as they formed lines stretching across the street.

Pale blue, those are the laser ones, right?

Beams of light burst out from the glyphs, firing at an upwards angle.

Yep, it's lasers.

Beam after beam leapt from the glyphs, travelling upwards through the night, presumably — behind Weiss, Sunset couldn't see — in the direction of Dark Angel Tower. Sunset didn't know if Weiss was trying to hit back or simply suppress their opponents, but if it was the latter, then it worked; the gunshots died down completely as the lasers flew.

Weiss kept up the bombardment for a few seconds after the gunfire had ceased, her glyphs continuing to fire, before she stood up and extracted her blade from the ground. The pale blue glyphs disappeared like dead grimm, fading away into nothingness.

Weiss poked her head out around the corner. She wasn't hit. Nobody even shot at her. After the interruption of gunfire, the street, the whole neighbourhood, was once more quiet.

Weiss motioned for Sunset to remain where she was while she stepped fully out into the street.

Still no one shot at her, no sudden flurry of bullets knocked her down onto her back, nothing at all.

Thus reassured, Sunset ventured to stick her own neck out, literally, risking a look down the street. She could see the tower. It looked pretty much like the other towers around her: a medium-rise obelisk of grey concrete, a brutal lump, solidly built, all sharp angles and square proportions, with more concrete forming a sort of superstructure around the outside, like supporting pillars preventing the thing from collapsing. So far, so similar to its near neighbours — and what a contrast to the old-fashioned elegance of the terraces around it — but context suggested that, since that tower had shot at them, that tower was also their objective.

And yet, no one was shooting at them now.

Sunset stepped out into the road to stand beside Weiss. Nobody shot at her either.

Nevertheless, that was something that could change quickly, and against that eventuality, Sunset raised her hands and conjured up another shield around both her and Weiss, the bubble of magic enveloping them both from above their heads down to the road.

Weiss looked at her. "Can this move with us?"

Sunset adjusted the spell ever so slightly. "A little trickier," she said. "But yes, we can."

Weiss nodded. "Good." She took a step forward before she asked. "Does this … whatever this is, does it have any limits at all?"

"Yes," Sunset replied. "I just haven't reached them yet tonight."

Weiss didn't pry further. She just kept walking forward, which meant that Sunset, perforce, had to move forward as well. Her breathing was deep, she had been using a lot of magic tonight, and yet, she hadn't hit her limits yet. It was a little surprising, but not a gift she was inclined to spurn.

After all, if her magic had run out alongside her aura, then she really would have been useless, just as Weiss had thought.

But she was not useless; her magic was holding out for now, and Sunset was able to walk beside Weiss down the road towards the tower.

The road down which they walked was straight as an arrow and uninterrupted by any junctions or turn-offs; one of the reasons why Sunset had conjured up a shield was the near absence of cover for them if the shooting resumed. Other towers rose on either side of them, but they could not be directly reached because, now that Sunset and Weiss had started down this road, they were hemmed in by it, closed in on either side by a street of services: a bank, a grocer, a butcher, a baker. Shut up shops lined up in a row to form a guard of honour as they walked, while the tower loomed ahead like a monarch on their lofty throne, waiting to receive the petitioners.

Or the assassins.

This monarch had an honour guard, but it seemed as the two huntresses walked towards it that it had no actual bodyguards, not anymore, not since the gunfire from the tower had ceased. Nothing and no one else stepped forward to challenge their approach.

There was a thud. The street beneath them trembled.

I may have spoken too soon.

There was another thud, and another, more and more thudding steps in quick succession, echoing down the road as Sunset saw something coming towards them from the direction of Dark Angel Tower. At first, she couldn't make out what it was; the darkness made it difficult to see clearly. As it came closer, stepping into the glare of the nearer street lights, then it became easier to see but not necessarily easier to work out what it was.

It was presumably this gigas that Weiss had mentioned, although Sunset would never have guessed if Weiss hadn't mentioned it already; she would have been left baffled by this thing that stalked towards them, making the ground shake beneath its tread.

It was a lumpen, misshapen, patchwork thing, scarcely a 'thing' at all; to call it a thing suggested unity of design, singularity of purpose, some common element binding it together, of which Sunset's eyes could find none. It was a collection of junk. It was scrap metal, crudely fashioned with nails and screws and some welding here and there into a … it had two legs as thick as pillars, it had two arms like articulated tree trunks with three sort of fingers at the end of each hand, it had a round body that gave it an almost pot-bellied look, and it had a head, or a helmet that resembled a beak in some respects, and a visor from out of which nothing could be seen, not even the pair of red eyes that Sunset half expected. It didn't look like a man; it didn't look exactly like anything, just a crude copy of many similar things — a man, a beowolf, an ursa — made by someone without too much skill or concern for accuracy.

A growl emanated from somewhere inside the metal.

"This is the gigas, right?" Sunset asked.

"Yes," Weiss murmured. "Although it didn't make this for itself; someone made this for it."

Sunset found it a little hard to understand why an actual grimm, smuggled into Vale by grimm cultists, wouldn't simply kill off the grimm cultists and go on a rampage — it wasn't as if they had any actual connection to the creature, and Principal Celestia had been clear that whenever grimm cultists came into contact with the objects of their worship, it did not end well for them — unless perhaps this mysterious figure who had taken over the tower block were one of Salem's servants.

But if so, what are they wasting their time here for?

The gigas growled once more as it took another stomping step forward.

That's a question that can wait for later, Sunset thought as she lowered the shield protecting her and Weiss — she didn't have much choice; they weren't going to kill this grimm by simply hunkering down and waiting for it to give up — as she held out her hands and unleashed a barrage of magic upon the gigas. Bolt after emerald bolt leapt from her palms to slam into the patchwork scrap armour in which the grimm had made its home. Some of the bolts glanced off the armour due to the angle, some them spread out across the dull metal in bursts of brilliant green light; together, they made the gigas sway on its large and lumpy feet, tottering backwards so that, for a moment, Sunset thought it might fall onto its back.

It didn't quite; the gigas managed to steady itself, arms flailing, backing away a step, and then another. It hunched its lumpen body, lowering its head like a bull about to charge.

Weiss charged first, flying forwards along a line of shimmering white glyphs as bright as she looked in the moonlight. She headed straight towards the gigas in its shell. The gigas raised an arm to bring it down upon her, but Sunset grabbed the armour in her telekinesis and held onto it, grunting a little with the effort of restraining the hideous strength of the grimm.

She grabbed its other arm too, in case it got any ideas, holding both arms and the gigas itself in place as Weiss closed the distance. As she reached the gigas, standing small beneath it, the slight pale figure standing beneath the dark armoured giant, Weiss' white glyphs disappeared, and in its place, a black glyph beneath her feet.

The glyph turned from black to red, and Weiss was catapulted up into the air. The gigas' face followed her, the only part of it which could follow her as Weiss soared upwards, her ponytail flying as she spun around.

Another white glyph formed beneath her feet, angled downwards so that Weiss was facing the gigas, and behind the white glyph, there appeared a column of black glyphs, a pillar of them, one by one each turning red.

Sunset guessed what Weiss was going to do, and with her telekinesis, she wrenched the grimm's arms and hands towards itself, moving them like a marionette as Weiss launched herself like a missile towards the gigas.

Sunset hit with the grimm with its own two hands, the clang of metal ringing out as massive fists slammed into the beak-like helmet. The gigas recoiled but was still mostly in place as Weiss struck home, jamming her slender sword into the gigas' visor and firing a blast of dust — Sunset couldn't tell what kind of dust — into its insides.

The gigas fell, toppling backwards like an unwanted statue, cracking the tarmac beneath its bulk.

Weiss landed just beyond its head, turning and jamming Myrtenaster into the ground as she unleashed a wave of ice that rippled from her sword to cover the street and consume the gigas from the inside, ice spikes bursting up through the joints in the armour, rising over the pot-bellied cuirass, coming through the visor.

The gigas' armour tried to move for a moment, armour creaking and groaning, fingers twitching, then it fell back and was still.

For a moment, Sunset expected the thing to start dissolving, before she remembered that this was only a shell made by someone, not the grimm itself; the grimm was dead inside—

Or it was getting away.

Sunset stepped forward, then dashed forward, feet pounding on the tarmac as she spotted something crawling out of the armour and beginning to skitter away, its dark form visible upon the white of the ice. As Sunset got closer, she could see it more clearly, a tentacled thing, small and black, with red lines upon it and a single red eye burning in the middle of it.

She grabbed hold of it with telekinesis, drawing Soteria with one hand over her shoulder as she pulled the grimm towards her and onto the point of the blade.

Black tentacles flailed upon black metal for a moment, before drooping limply down and dissolving into ashes.

Sunset sheathed the sword back across her shoulder.

Weiss drew her sword out of the ground. "I've certainly fought tougher specimens," she observed.

Sunset walked towards her. "All the same, how did they control it?"

"I've no idea," Weiss admitted. She looked towards the tower, looming large before them. "But the answers we seek are close by now."

Sunset conjured her shield again as they resumed their progress, but she almost needn't have bothered because there were still no more shots from on top of the tower, no bullets, no bangs, no rockets. Sunset might have expected them to start shooting again after they saw their gigas fall, but nothing. Nothing but the tower itself, growing taller and taller as they got closer and closer.

It may have only been medium-rise, no more than twenty or twenty-five storeys, but it certainly loomed very high indeed as Sunset and Weiss stood beneath it. There were bodies lying around the tower. Some of them had wounds visible, in their fronts or on their backs, others — with guns lying next to them — looked as though they had fallen off the roof to the ground below.

Or been thrown off, though who would have done the throwing was a question without an obvious answer. Had the leader of this little cult tired of his followers?

There might be only one place that they would find out.

And yet, they advanced upon it slowly, stepping around the dead that lay around the tower. They avoided the parts of the pavement where the blood gathered, moving warily towards an open door that gaped before them like a black mouth.

Lights flickered in the room beyond, some sort of lobby, with a few faded chairs and an intercom panel on the wall. With the light flickering on and off like a disco strobe, it was hard to see anything, but at the same time, Sunset couldn't use her night vision spell because when the lights came on, she'd be blinded by them. But she could at least see the stairs, when the lights were on, and even a little when they were not.

Weiss continued to take the lead, not only because she had the aura but also because, with aura, she was just a lot faster than Sunset. Protection from harm was the most obvious advantage that aura conveyed, but as Sunset pounded up flight after flight of stairs, going up and around, up and around, turning left only to be confronted with yet more stairs with grey linoleum laid on them, she really missed having a great power within her that would make it all feel easy. As it was, she huffed and puffed her way up, legs aching, knees protesting at the constant pounding up and down. She wasn't quite so feeble that she had to stop for a rest, but she did notice Weiss slowing her own pace so as not to outrun Sunset.

Sunset hated her for that, and was very grateful at the same time.

Weiss, for her part, forbore to comment. Sunset was grateful for that too, and hated it.

Each flight of stairs led to a landing, with corridors running off it to the apartments within the building. It was all very quiet: no sounds, no signs of life, nothing but emptiness, and darkness. Dark corridors where the lights either didn't work or flickered on and off, dark doors without any light creeping underneath them. Silence — and bloodstains on the carpet. Bloodstains on the carpet and symbols drawn on the walls, symbols in black or red — hopefully red paint; with all her heart, Sunset hoped that it was red paint — daubed over the beige paint on the walls themselves. Eight pointed stars, that crescent symbol like Jaune's emblem inverted, rams' heads and beowolfs' gaping maws and king taijitus flickering their tongues. As they climbed the steps, Sunset came to prefer the darkness to the flickering light that would expose these symbols, casting them in an even more sinister light than the context as they appeared and then disappeared then showed themselves again in rapid succession.

The first sign of life came near the top of the building, not quite at the very highest floor but close to it. They heard the growl first, then a dog — a huge dog, a dog so huge that Sunset almost took it for a beowolf for a second and wondered how many other grimm had managed to get in here somehow — erupted out of the darkness and slammed into Weiss. It wasn't a beowolf, just a dog that was bigger than she was, as tall as Pyrrha and as muscular as Rainbow Dash with a mouthful of teeth like knives. The force of it knocked Weiss backwards into the wall' she nearly tumbled down the stairs into Sunset; the dog was on top of her, saliva dripping from its immense maw, its barks as loud as cannon fire. Myrtenaster had slipped from Weiss' grasp, and the dog had its mouth around her arm, biting into it again and again, taking chunks out of her aura with each bite.

It was huge. Sunset had never seen a dog so big before. The size of it — and the thought of what it would have done to her, without aura as she was — made her hands tremble a little as she unslung Sol Invictus off her shoulder.

She cocked the rifle as she aimed it at the enormous dog.

The dog turned its giant head, bigger than Jaune's head, towards her.

Sunset fired two shots in quick succession, echoing up and down the staircase. The first shot hit the dog in the neck, the second squarely in the head. Blood spattered over Weiss as the dog's lifeless body fell down onto her.

"Ugh," Weiss grunted, pushing the body off her lap and wiping futilely at her stained white clothes as she got to her feet. "Thank you."

Sunset shrugged. "You would have taken care of it eventually."

"Eventually," Weiss said in reply.

It was at that point that the two of them noticed a light coming from the corridor at the top of this flight of stairs. For the first time since they had begun to climb up and up and up this tower, they could see an open door and soft light streaming out of it. The two of them approached, moving side by side now, on either side of the corridor, not calling out — after what they'd seen so far, whoever was here was unlikely to be friendly — but rather, moving as quietly as they could manage until they reached the doorway and could look into the apartment itself.

A man stood with his back to them, dressed in a dun brown camelhair coat. His hair, which ran down to the collar of his coat, had once been blond, although it had faded now to a yellowish grey. He stood before a table lined with candles, so many candles dripping wax down onto the wooden surface, with more candles on smaller tables on either side of the doorway. A ram's skull was mounted on the wall in front of the man, surrounded by an eight-pointed star.

The smell of incense lay heavily in the air, getting up Sunset's nose and entering into her throat, making her want to cough or worse.

"Candles," the man said, in a rather hoarse, croaking voice that sounded as if he were struggling to enunciate each word. "Sigils, spells, and incantations, all rather absurd, isn't it? All this … flummery, genuflecting at the feet of a creature that perceives you only as prey. But over time, I must confess, I've come to rather appreciate them."

"You appreciate the opportunity it affords you for power over others, I suppose," Weiss said.

The man turned to face them. His skin was almost as grey as his hair, with a papery, or even sandpapery, quality to it, as though it had been dried out, every bit of moisture extracted from his flesh. It was stretched across his bones, sunken at his cheeks and beneath his eyes, even looking in places as though it was peeling away or crumbling into dust. His lips were dry and cracked and wrinkled, and his eyes were dark, the blackness expanding to consume the colour and the white alike.

Sunset took a step back. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end.

"A part of me hoped that the gigas would deal with you," the man said in his hoarse, halting voice. "When I realised that you were huntresses, it was clear that my flock would not be sufficient, though I thought my friend might. But another part of me is glad that you made it. This body of mine…" He held up one hand. His nails were long and yellow. "If anything survives this night, I shall need a new body, and yours … young and strong and perfect." He took a step towards them. His shadow, cast by the myriad candles, stretched out for them like a spear.

Sunset grabbed Weiss by the collar of her bolero and yanked her backwards, away from the man and his long shadow.

Having done so, she raised Sol Invictus to her shoulder and fired.

There was a bang, and the man shuddered as the bullet entered his shoulder. He looked down at the hole in his camelhair coat and, with one long nail, poked at the flesh beneath.

"Now I shall definitely need a new body," he said.

"How … who are you?" Weiss asked.

The man smiled. "When a beowolf grows older, it becomes larger and larger, as well as more intelligent, more cunning, more wise. But what about a grimm without a body? What do you think happens to a chill when it gets older?"

It learns to control its stolen body far more effectively than before, Sunset thought. "You came to Vale and recruited cultists to worship the grimm—"

"I gave young men purpose, direction," said the chill. "That's what we have, but you don't; that's why you admire us, worship us, because we have what you lack in your aimless, miserable little lives! I filled up their lives with meaning, I made them—"

"Monsters," Sunset said.

"A monster knows what it is and what it does," said the chill. "It doesn't pretend, it doesn't doubt, it doesn't agonise."

"It only kills," said Weiss. "What was the purpose of all this?"

"Destruction is the purpose," declared the chill. "Destruction is everything. And when Vale falls tonight, destruction will consume everything you know."

"Vale isn't going to fall," declared Weiss. "Atlas will stop the grimm beyond the wall." She raised Myrtenaster. "And we will stop you here."

The chill laughed, or sounded as though it was trying to laugh; it came out as a kind of coughing, sawing sound. "I've been amongst you for a long time, but I'm still a grimm. I can still hear the singing of the horde calling to me. I can feel what's out there, their fury, their strength; I can feel the things that you haven't seen yet. You can't stop them." Its smile broadened. "And you can't stop me."

It started to lunge towards them — before Sunset slammed an inverted shield around it, and around its shadow for good measure.

"Watch us," Sunset said, even as her mind raced to try and think of a way to actually beat this thing. How to beat it, how to kill it, how to stop a chill, chill, chill, chill, how were you supposed to—?

"Sunset," Weiss said, as Myrtenaster's cylinder cycled to red fire dust, "can you run?"

"Maybe," Sunset said. "Why?"

Weiss swept her sword magisterially in front of her, flame leaping from the tip of the blade to spread out across the carpet of the room. The fire crackled and flickered as it began to spread, licking at the edges of the shield in which Sunset had trapped the chill.

"Because I think we should run," Weiss said.

Now, it was Sunset's turn to lead the way, her knees hammering as she pounded down the stairs, all the stairs, all the way back the way that they had come. Weiss was on her heels, and as she went, she cast more fires from her sword, fires on every floor that they descended.

Sunset kept her shield up as long as she could, though increasing distance as she plunged down the stairs made it more difficult, rendered the connection more tenuous. She could feel the flames lapping all around her barrier like water surrounding a rock; she could feel the chill within pounding on the shield trying to get out, though flame was all that awaited it on the other side.

She gasped for breath. She could smell the stench of the smoke from all the fires Weiss was causing, displacing the smell of perfumed incense in her nose and mouth.

Sunset started to cough, her connection to the magical barrier snapped.

But there was so much fire, fires everywhere, crackling above them, and Weiss was starting even more fires while she had dust; surely, there was no escape for the chill now.

Sunset and Weiss emerged from out of Dark Angel Tower. Almost as soon as Sunset began to slow, staggering to a halt, gasping for breath, she felt a stitch begin to stab her in the side. She winced and held that same side, for all the good it did.

Weiss turned around to look at the tower. Sunset did likewise, though her stitch kept her bent over a little.

The tower was burning. Flames leapt from every window, glass shattered, smoke rose into the air towards the moon. Fire consumed the interior; by the time it finished burning, there would be nothing left but that brutal concrete shell.

Nothing left of the chill, either. The flames would devour it, surely. Devour its body, certainly. Would its … essence burn? Yang had killed one, hadn't she? She and Team YRDN, as it had been then, had destroyed the host body and the chill with it. Now they would do the same, or had done the same; there was no way the body could survive in those flames.

It was gone.

She hoped it was gone.

Sunset watched the flames, along with Weiss, watching as the tower burned and, with good luck, took all its horrors with it. She straightened up, trying to ignore the pain in her chest as she did so.

Weiss glanced at her. "So," she said softly. "Where to now?"

 

[ScipioSmith]

Power Plant

​

"Where to now?" asked Weiss.

Sunset took a breath, and ignored the pain in her side. "Before I saw your Bullhead go down," she said, "I was on my way to the skydock. I saw a big explosion coming from there … it was a while ago at this point, I admit, but…"

"It's a possibility," Weiss said. "But Professor Goodwitch led some students down from Beacon into Vale before the grimm attacked the school. I was going to join them, wherever they are."

"That makes sense," Sunset allowed. "They might have taken care of the skydock already by now. They might have taken care of everything by now."

"They hadn't taken care of here," Weiss pointed out. As she got out her scroll, she said, "What will you do if they have taken care of everything else; or perhaps, in the circumstances, I should say 'everything else that Professor Goodwitch knows of'? What will you do then?"

"I … would need to think about it," Sunset murmured. "And you?"

"Accept the well-meant if slightly patronising concern of Rainbow Dash and Blake on the Atlesian lines, I suppose," Weiss said with a sigh.

"The Atlesian line?" asked Sunset.

"With my own team out of action, who else would I fight alongside?" Weiss responded. "You know, if you found Jaune out on the battlefield, then you wouldn't need to worry about your broken aura and your … vulnerability."

No, I'd just have to worry about what Ruby would do to me while I'm vulnerable, Sunset thought. "Well … it might come to that." If Vale had truly been made safe everywhere but here — and here had just been made safe by them, and by the roaring flames that cast a light upon their faces as it devoured Dark Angel Tower — then she could not, in good conscience, stay away from the battle line. Or at least, she couldn't stay away from the battle line without feeling like a coward.

The fact that she didn't want to go in order to avoid confronting Jaune and Ruby should maybe have made her feel like a coward also, but it didn't; it felt like prudent sagacity, even verging upon consideration for their feelings … provided that there was some good that she could do here instead.

"Could you just call Professor Goodwitch, please?" Sunset asked softly. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves unnecessarily."

Weiss nodded and bent her head to look at her scroll, her thumbs tapping lightly across the screen. "One thing doesn't make any sense to me," she murmured, glancing up at Sunset with her cold blue eyes.

"Only one?" Sunset asked. "In this night of madness?"

Weiss didn't respond to that, except to continue as she probably would have regardless. "General Blackthorn — he's the Valish commanding officer, isn't he?"

"Yes," Sunset said. Or was, at least; I don't know what will happen with that post now.

"He went mad," Weiss said. "Because of a gas leak, or bad air, or whatever explanation was given that you imperfectly recall. It even affected General Blackthorn's command staff."

"That's right," Sunset confirmed, wondering where this was going.

"And when he started giving his mad orders, to attack Atlas, to institute martial law, to shoot people on the street," Weiss went on, "not a single person, not a ship captain or infantry officer or even a single stout-hearted sergeant told him 'no'?"

Sunset felt her mouth turn a little dry. It was … well, she couldn't say that Weiss didn't have a point. It was the weakness in the story that Councillor Emerald had thrown together, and it was a weakness which might not stand up to a great deal of scrutiny.

Mostly because there wasn't a good explanation for it, at least not one that did any favours to the Valish Defence Forces.

"Um … soldiers are trained to obey orders, are they not?" asked Sunset.

"To that extent? I should have hoped not," Weiss murmured. "Imagine if General Ironwood went mad; would all his soldiers obey him so easily? Would Rainbow Dash? Blake?"

"I imagine that the air filtration system in General Ironwood's office works perfectly well," Sunset suggested. "Considering the vaunted Atlesian technological prowess, it had better, don't you think?"

Weiss' eyebrows rose, but Sunset was spared from having to continue the discussion any further by Professor Goodwitch taking Weiss' call. The deputy headmistress' voice emerged from out of the device. "Miss Schnee, I must say that it's a surprise to hear from you."

"I apologise for bothering you, Professor," Weiss said. "But I've made my way to Vale, and I'm currently with Sunset Shimmer. We were wondering if we might be of any use to you."

There was a pause. "Miss Shimmer," Professor Goodwitch said, in clipped tones. "I understand that you were with the First Councillor recently."

"Yes, Professor," Sunset said softly. "I was able to lend a hand."

"Fortune saw you in the right place at the right time, it would seem," Professor Goodwitch declared. "Or would you prefer to say it was destiny?"

"That isn't quite how I see destiny, Professor," Sunset replied. I might be persuaded to call it fate, though it is a fate that I would have avoided if I'd been given the choice.

Hence I cannot glorify it with the name of destiny.

"In any event, the cessation of hostilities from the Defence Forces is certainly making things easier," Professor Goodwitch went on. "We're securing or retaking key areas all across the city, often, thank goodness, without resistance. Where are you both?"

"Laceyton, Professor," Sunset said.

"My airship was shot down by some grimm cultists," Weiss explained. "But Sunset and I have managed to take care of them."

"Grimm cultists in Laceyton?" Professor Goodwitch repeated.

"They weren't taking part in the general assault," Sunset said. "Just taking advantage of the chaos."

"I see," said Professor Goodwitch. "In that case, good work, both of you. What have you done with the cultists?"

"I'm afraid they're dead, Professor," Weiss explained. "Their … there was a chill. It killed them before we could dispose of it."

"There is one survivor," Sunset said. "I had to leave him tied up in Cavendish Street, Professor; I couldn't raise the police."

"Cavendish Street; very well, I'll see if I can get in touch with someone and have a squad car pick them up," Professor Goodwitch said. "In the meantime, if you want to do more, then you can go to Batterham Power Station; it's one of Vale's largest, and it's gone dark; other power stations are working overtime to stop the blackouts from spreading, but if Batterham doesn't go back online, then some of those stations will begin to brown out. There were police stationed there, but I can't raise them, and the Defence Force unit sent to secure the plant isn't responding to Colonel Sky Beak. The students that I brought with me from Beacon have become thinly stretched; could you go and check out what's going on there?"

"Of course, Professor," Sunset said. "We'll be right there."

"I won't wish you luck, because you shouldn't need it if you use your heads," Professor Goodwitch said. "But take care, of each other and of yourselves."

"Thank you, Professor," Weiss said before she hung up. She didn't move to put her scroll away. "Batterham Power Station," she murmured. "Batterham Power Station. Ah, here it is." She held up her scroll, revealing a map of Vale with a yellow line cutting across it. "Hmm, it's a little across town."

"How far?" Sunset asked, walking around Weiss to get a better look at her scroll — and the map displayed on it.

"Eight miles, as the nevermore flies," Weiss said. "A little more by road."

"We don't want to walk there, then," Sunset said. "Follow me; I'll give you a ride."

It was Sunset's turn to lead the way, with Weiss following on behind her, as Sunset navigated back to where she had left her bike, parked out of sight of Dark Angel Tower and of the gunfire that had first assailed her when she passed by.

Now, there was no gunfire, just real fire as the tower burned from the inside out, yet still, it could not be seen, just as anyone still living in the burning tower could no longer have seen them.

Yet, Sunset could hear the flames regardless, burning away.

And a good thing too, considering.

"So … this is yours?" Weiss asked, gesturing.

Sunset huffed. "Don't say anything," she said.

"Oh, no, I would never," Weiss said. "It's actually very nice-looking."

Sunset stopped, wheeling around to face Weiss. Nobody had ever said anything that nice about her bike before. "Thank you!"

"For a piece of modern art," Weiss added, a smile playing upon her face.

Sunset's mouth twisted into an expression as sour as if she'd just bitten into a lemon. "Get on!" she snapped as she climbed astride her bike and began to pull her helmet on.

She felt one of Weiss' arms around her, grabbing hold of a handful of her leather jacket and pulling it across Sunset's belly. In her other hand, Weiss held her scroll, with the map still displayed upon its thin screen.

Sunset set off. Cognisant that Weiss' hold on her was not the most secure, what with Weiss needing one hand to hold her scroll and give the directions, Sunset didn't squeeze the accelerator too tight, moving at a speed that was far from a crawl but which wasn't likely to throw Weiss off the back of the bike either. They still moved a good deal faster than they would have on foot. Weiss gave the directions, which was fine when she was telling Sunset to take a left here, or turn right there, or straight on at this junction, but which occasionally slid into less helpful territory.

"You should be in the middle lane!"

"What does it matter what lane I'm in; the road is empty apart from us!"

"It's the principle of the thing!"

Sunset ignored her, and in any case, the relatively short distance between their starting point and Batterham Power Station meant there wasn't too much opportunity for such complaints. As Sunset had said, the streets were quiet; nothing had happened recently to make people more inclined to venture out of doors — except for the people in Laceyton fleeing their grimm cultist tormentors, but the two saw no evidence of that anywhere else, thank Celestia; all the other cultists hiding in Vale, poor people filled with resentment or rich people filled with depravity, had stuck to the plan, it seemed, and assailed the infrastructure upon which Vale depended — onto the roads or even the pavements. The outage at the power station had rendered Vale's houses even darker than before, regarding Sunset and Weiss with locked doors and drawn curtains and silence.

"People are going to be scared for a long time, aren't they?" Weiss observed. "Take the next left."

"They'll get over it," Sunset replied, as she turned as instructed. "People were scared after the Breach, but they got better."

"After the Breach, they were scared of monsters," Weiss remarked. "After tonight, they'll be scared of their own people. I wonder if that'll be harder to move beyond."

"Cheerful thought."

"As cheerful as the times," said Weiss.

With the power out, the streetlights were as dark as the houses, another reason for Sunset not to race along at top speed. She had her headlamp on, illuminating the road in front, but with the darkness pressing in about them, she was glad of a clear street with nothing stepping or swerving out in front of them.

As they approached the power plant, the world became less dark; not, however, because the street lights were on. Instead, it was flames that illuminated the surroundings, the flames of a burning truck that had been flipped upside down, wheels in the air, flames rising from the undercarriage as if they were reaching up towards the sky.

And the flames lit up a charnel house around the fallen truck; the dead lay everywhere, police officers in blue uniforms, men and women in protective vests or simply in ordinary business or casual attire — whether there were the grimm cultists or plain clothes police officers or both, Sunset couldn't have said — lying on the ground with pistols, rifles, shotguns, all different kinds of weapons lying nearby, all scattered across the concrete ground in front of the power station. There were a few downed soldiers too, in Valish green, but very few compared with the number of non-soldiers lying here.

It was quiet out here now; the only sound was the growling of the engine of Sunset's motorcycle, and even that ceased to purr as Sunset pulled up; it was quiet, because it seemed as though everyone was dead out here; they had all … but that truck; there were Valish military vehicles nearby and not enough fallen soldiers to have filled them up; even a single truck carried more men than that, as Sunset had found out outside the First Councillor's residence. So where were all the other soldiers?

Sunset took off her helmet, climbing slowly off her bike. Weiss had already dismounted, one hand upon the hilt of her rapier. She stepped delicately forward, her wedge-heeled boots lightly touching the ground. She stopped, her blue eyes widened, a little gasp escaping from her mouth.

"No!" She cried, running forward, her grip on her sword's hilt loosening as her arms flew up and down at her sides. "No, no, no, no!"

"Weiss?" Sunset asked. "Weiss, what—?"

Weiss stopped besides a body, the body of a woman, a faunus, a horse faunus with her tail hanging out from a specially cut hole in her pantsuit trousers. She was laying face down on the ground, only her dark hair visible. Sunset didn't recognise her, but Weiss clearly did, for she knelt down beside her, reaching out lightly for her, brushing her fingertips against the woman's back and against the back of her head, drawing Sunset's attention to the wounds that she had there. Blood-stained Weiss' fingertips as it was staining the woman's dark jacket and her dark brown hair.

"Please, no," Weiss whispered. "Not you too."

Weiss turned her body over, so that Sunset could see the sharp-angled face, the ducky lips that looked made for pouting, and she recognised this woman. It was the cop who had come to arrest Blake, the one who—

The one that Weiss and Flash and their team had worked with for a little bit last semester.

"Lieutenant?" Weiss said, her voice trembling. "Lieutenant Martinez? El-Tee?"

Lieutenant Martinez didn't answer. Her eyes were closed, her face was stained, not with blood but with dirt, probably from lying face down for however long. There was no response from her.

"Lieutenant?" Weiss repeated again, her voice soft, high pitched, almost childlike.

Sunset approached, kneeling down beside her.

Weiss put two fingers to Lieutenant Martinez's neck. "I can feel a pulse."

Sunset's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Yes!" Weiss cried. "Yes, I can feel it; she's alive! We need to get her to a hospital."

"Of course," Sunset said, starting to get to her feet. Of course they needed to get her to a hospital — she was lucky to still be alive, and who knew how long her luck would hold for? — but at the same time, it was easier to say 'we need to get her to a hospital' than it was to do it. It was one thing to carry a passenger on the back of Sunset's bike; it was another thing to carry someone unconscious who couldn't hold on for themselves.

Sunset looked around; there were plenty of cars here, some of them — like the ones that formed a tangled, crumpled mess in front of the power plant gates entrance — obviously unusable, but others looking as though they might still run just fine.

"Do you know how to drive a car?" Sunset asked.

"No," Weiss admitted, looking up at Sunset. "You?"

Sunset shook her head. "No."

"Well, um…" Weiss hesitated. "Here, hold the Lieutenant for a moment; I don't want to put her back on the ground."

Sunset nodded, and both her hands glowed green with magic as she levitated Lieutenant Martinez up off the ground, holding her flat in the air as if she was suspended on an invisible stretcher.

Weiss half-rose, although she still had her knees bent; she stood up just enough to draw Myrtenaster and rest the tip of the blade upon the ground.

Sunset wondered what she meant by that: was she going to make a line of glyphs to glide all the way to the nearest hospital? Or a line of ice to slide there on?

No glyphs formed, no ice erupted from the tip of the blade. Weiss' eyes were closed, screwed tight shut, her body trembling.

Sunset didn't say anything. It was clear that Weiss was attempting something that was a bit of a struggle for her, and she didn't want to interrupt. There was nothing worse when you were trying to perform complex spellwork than some oaf coming up and breaking your concentration.

Sunset had no desire to be the oaf, especially under these circumstances.

She stood there, holding Lieutenant Martinez, silently watching as a glyph did appear in front of Weiss, a glyph of cold blue, so pale that it was almost — but not quite — white, a glyph with a shimmering ethereal quality about it that did not quite match any of Weiss' glyphs that Sunset had seen before.

And from the glyph, rising head-first like a ship appearing over the horizon, emerged a ghostly beowolf, an alpha if Sunset was any judge, tall and burlier than most Valish beowolves, too burly to be called lean, certainly. Long, rangy arms reached down towards the ground, and long teeth emerged from an open mouth. It was the same pale blue colour as the glyph from which it had sprung, all of it that would have been black or bone or armour plate the same ephemeral, ghostly shade. Smoke rose, or seemed to rise, gently from its spectral form.

It ignored Sunset completely, its attention fixed on Weiss even as Sunset's attention was fixed upon it.

What was this?

And since when had Weiss been able to do it?

Weiss opened her eyes, and for the briefest second, a smile fleeted across her face before it was gone. She raised her sword, the glyph vanished beneath the beowolf's feet, but the beowolf itself remained.

Weiss gestured down. The beowolf dropped to all fours, which still put its shoulder about level with Weiss' head, then knelt, knees bending, back descending.

She leapt onto its back, avoiding the spurs of bone as she mounted the ghostly beowolf as though it were a horse. She turned to Sunset. "Give her to me."

Sunset magically raised Lieutenant Martinez up — she didn't move, she didn't make a sound, it was only the pulse which proclaimed that she was not dead — up into Weiss' arms. Weiss held the Lieutenant's limp, unconscious form in front of her, one arm wrapped around Lieutenant Martinez to hold her in place.

Lieutenant Martinez lolled against her rescuer.

"Hold on, Lieutenant, I've got you," Weiss murmured.

"Will that carry you all the way?" Sunset asked.

"So long as I have aura, yes," Weiss replied.

"If you say so," Sunset said. "You get her to help, and I'll look around here, see what's going on with the power."

Weiss looked at her, surprise in her eyes as though she had forgotten in the shock of finding Lieutenant Martinez why they had come to the power station in the first place. "Are you sure?"

"I'll be fine," Sunset assured her. "Go, while she still has time."

Weiss nodded, but said nothing more before the beowolf turned away, running on all fours — more in the Mistralian fashion than the Valish — off down the road, bearing its two passengers upon it. Its ghostly pallor, its shimmering, shining quality made it a beacon in these unlit streets, and Sunset was able to follow the conjured beowolf with her eyes for a while, until it turned away, running around a distant corner, and she lost sight of it and them.

XxXxX​

Once more, Weiss found herself giving directions. This time to a thing, not even a person, not even alive.

But the summoned beowolf, the phantom of a kill, understood her regardless. It understood, and it obeyed. Weiss fumbled with her scroll, using a single thumb to navigate through the device, holding onto Lieutenant Martinez with her other hand as she searched for the nearest hospital. It wasn't far away — thank the gods, it wasn't far away — they could get there in time.

They had to get there in time.

Lieutenant Martinez had two children, two boys; she'd mentioned them more than once. Weiss had grown up without a mother — she wasn't dead, true, but she was so lost in drink that she might as well have been — and she would spare those two boys from that same fate if she could.

They would be in time. They had to be in time.

Her summoned beowolf showed the meaning of haste, bounding down the streets, devouring the tarmac beneath its paws, racing through the darkness and illuminating the ground around it briefly with an ethereal light. Weiss didn't bother to mention lanes now, not to this mount they rode; she just told it when to turn and where to turn, guiding it as the map on her scroll guided her towards the Jackson Memorial Hospital.

Lieutenant Martinez was silent; the only reason she wasn't motionless was that the movement of Weiss' summon — she was scarcely less glad now to have unlocked that power than when her summoned knight had saved Flash and Cardin — kept bouncing her up and down on its back, shifting her this way and that. Weiss would have worried about what the movement was doing to the lieutenant, save that she was more worried about what the delay that would result from going slower would do to her, and she judged the speed to be worth the risk.

She held on tight, one arm wrapped around the lieutenant's waist. She would not fall. Weiss would not let her fall.

Lieutenant Martinez had been shot twice, as far as Weiss could make out — at least, twice once her aura was broken — once in the back and once in the back of the head. It was a miracle that she was still alive, and after however long she had been lying there before Weiss got to her. If there was some unknowable power, some miraculous force keeping Lieutenant Martinez alive, then Weiss could only hope it would continue to smile down upon her for just a little longer, until Weiss could get her to help.

While the beowolf ran on, while Weiss sat upon its back with nothing to do but hope and give directions for this turning or that, as the beowolf ignored red lights and one-way streets as it tore through silent and desolate Vale, Weiss wondered what had become of Detective Mallard. She hadn't seen his body, but then, after she'd seen Lieutenant Martinez, she hadn't really stopped to look at the others around. Perhaps she should have, perhaps she should have checked to see if anyone else was alive and needed assistance instead of just focussing on the one person that she knew and recognised.

How many other people could I carry on the back of this summon? What might have happened to Lieutenant Martinez while I was checking the status of everyone else lying on the ground?

She had her defence prepared. It came so easily to her mind that Weiss had to conclude there was some truth in it, but all the same, she did wonder for the fate of the other Flying Squad officer whom they had worked with, the would-be huntsman who had entered the police as his second choice. Was he dead? Had Weiss missed sight of him? Was he laying out there, like the Lieutenant, seeming dead but not, waiting for help that might not come?

When I've delivered El-Tee into the hands of a doctor, then I'll go back, check the others, help Sunset.

It's not as though I can help the Lieutenant at all by standing outside her room while they perform surgery, or whatever it is they're going to do.

"Here!" she said to the summoned beowolf. "Turn left here!"

The beowolf turned immediately, making not a sound — either in the sense of it growling or snarling or in the sense of its footfalls making any noise at all upon the tarmac — as it bounded down a two-lane entrance road with a sign outside declaring that this was, indeed the Jackson Memorial Hospital. There were lights positioned before the sign to illuminate it, but they were not on. There were no lights on as the beowolf ran down the road and into a car park, with a few cars and some lights, all of which were dark.

Of course. The power. Weiss debated whether to go to another hospital, but the next nearest hospital — Kingsland — was much further away; Lieutenant Martinez might not have that long.

And besides, although the lights outside and in the car park were dark, Weiss could see some lights coming from inside the hospital itself — although they were somewhat faint; the building was hardly illuminated as she would expect. Weiss guessed — Weiss hoped — that they were conserving energy in light of the situation.

This remained her best bet and Lieutenant Martinez's best hope.

If her bet was wrong and her hopes disappointed … she would have to find more hope that the lieutenant could withstand a longer journey.

The beowolf carried Weiss near to the front entrance, stopping just beyond the ambulance parked outside the automatic doors. Weiss leapt down, cradling Lieutenant Martinez in her arms as best she could, considering the difference in their heights — the lieutenant's legs drooped almost to the floor as Weiss favoured her top half — and left her summons standing guard outside as she ran in.

The automatic doors still worked, even if there were not many lights on; they slid open to admit Weiss into a dark lobby, where the only lights were coming from deeper inside the hospital.

"Hello?" Weiss called. "Hello, is anyone there?"

"Yes." There was a flash of light, a torch held in the hands of a heavyset woman in lavender scrubs moving towards her. "Yes, yes, we're here. But with the power out, we've got the backup generator running; don't want to tax it too hard with lights and such. Necessary use only. Now what—?" She had gotten close enough now to see Lieutenant Martinez, the light of the torch illuminating both her unconscious form and Weiss' own face.

"What happened?" demanded the woman — a nurse, Weiss presumed.

"She's been shot," Weiss said. "And a while ago, maybe. I wasn't there, I only found her recently, I don't know how long she was—"

"Okay, it's okay, honey, it's alright," the nurse assured her. She turned her back on Weiss and bellowed down the corridor, "Doctor! I need help over here!"

There was a faint rumbling sound, the rapid tapping of feet on tiles, and then a doctor in a white coat and two more nurses in lavender appeared, wheeling a stretcher out of the light and into the darkness towards them.

"Gunshot wounds," the heavyset nurse declared as they approached. "Unknown time ago."

"Where?" asked the doctor.

"Her back and the back of her head," Weiss said, her voice trembling.

The doctor didn't say anything, but her expression did not look very optimistic. "Put her on her front," she said.

The two nurses lifted Lieutenant Martinez's unconscious form from out of Weiss arms and turned her over, putting her down on the stretcher, lying on her front, her head just past the top of the stretcher so she didn't suffocate, her back and her wounds exposed to view as the first nurse shone her torch upon them.

"Prep her for emergency surgery," the doctor ordered. "Operating Room Three, let's go."

"Will she—?" Weiss began.

"We'll do our best," the doctor assured her, in a tone that sounded like a promise even as it promised nothing.

They said nothing else. They wheeled the lieutenant away, their stretcher rumbling on the floor, their feet pounding as they dragged her off, down the corridor, into the light, towards what would hopefully be her salvation.

Or would be the last time Weiss ever saw her.

She felt the hand of the first nurse to find her upon her shoulder.

"I know this isn't the best first impression you could get," she said, her voice deep and a little hoarse, "but this hospital is still full of good people who know what they're doing. They really will do all they can for your friend, and more." She paused. "I'm afraid I can't offer you a cup of nothing — we gotta save power, after all — but you're welcome to sit here awhile, if you like."

"No," Weiss said quickly, shaking her head. "No, I can't stay. I've got a … there's someone waiting for me; I shouldn't leave them alone too long."

"Back out there?" the nurse asked. When Weiss nodded, the nurse nodded. "Mmhmm, I can't say I'd want to be left alone too long on a night like this either."

XxXxX​

Sunset approached the gates to the power station slowly. There was a wall around the power plant; it wasn't so high that she couldn't see the immense funnels of the cooling towers rising above, with gaping mouths like worms that wanted to swallow the moon; it wasn't even so high that she couldn't see the main body of the power plant, square the concrete, nestling in between the huge funnels. Sunset could have teleported over the wall, but first, she preferred to get a look at what was on the other side, and so she approached the gate, or at least what remained of the gate. There was a crashed wreck in front of them: a large and sturdy-looking van had partially hit the gate while at the same time getting wedged in a collision with a police car that had left the whole thing unable to move, parts of the metal gates twisted and crumpled inwards. Other parts of the gate, less covered by the wreck, looked as though they had been cut, the metal bars sheared away in clean strokes.

Sunset reached the wreck, crouching down behind the damaged police car. She was aware — she could not not be aware — of the bodies around her. Dead bodies, the bodies of people who had died here, died defending this place.

The night was cold, but it was not the cold that made Sunset shiver. Rather, it was the fact that all this death could not but make her more conscious of her lack of aura.

A well-placed bullet, and she would end up as dead as any of these police officers.

Sunset's hand shook.

She had no aura, and she was all alone.

Weiss had left her all alone. There was no one else here but her.

I don't suppose that anyone's going to show up out of the darkness to back me up? Anyone?

No?

No one at all?

No. No one. Of course no one was coming; who was there to come? Weiss had just left; Pyrrha, Jaune, Ruby, Penny, Blake, Rainbow Dash, they were all fighting out there somewhere beyond the walls; Cinder was seeking her revenge; Amber was … Sunset didn't know where Amber was, but not here. She wouldn't come here. No one was coming here.

Sunset was all alone.

All alone and aura broken and trembling.

The dead mocked her. Their eyes, lifeless and lightless and motionless, found her nonetheless. They stared at her, they glared at her, they fixed her with their gaze and mocked her surely as a heckling crowd that savages the hapless clown who dies on stage with their stale jokes and worn out observations.

Sunset closed her eyes, throwing her head backwards; it struck the side of the police car with a thunk.

"Okay," she whispered. "Okay, I'm going."

She clambered over the police car — walking around it would have meant exposing herself for longer to the hollow gazes of the dead — and landed awkwardly on the other side. Sunset ducked through the hole cut in the gate, her tail catching for a moment on the metal bars that remained, but not snagging, thankfully.

Sunset took deep breaths as she looked around. Inside, the grounds of the plant was quiet. She couldn't see anything here, just empty car parking spaces, zones for delivery vehicles, what you would expect to find outside of any workplace, but all empty.

With no lights, Sunset cast the night vision spell on herself, wondering what she might see once her eyes could penetrate the darkness.

She wasn't entirely looking forward to seeing better, in this case.

But she saw nothing still, no cars, no people, just the plant itself, with those immense funnels looming over her and over Vale.

Sunset walked forward, her steps tentative even as she endeavoured to be more catlike than horselike in her tread. She couldn't see anyone out here, but it didn't mean that there was absolutely no one out here, no one with a way to disguise themselves beyond her sight.

For that matter, it didn't mean that there was nobody watching her from inside the power plant. Just because they'd cut the power to the city didn't mean that there was no power inside. They might be watching her on CCTV cameras.

It occurred to Sunset that she had no idea how to get the power back on. But then, she hadn't told Professor Goodwitch that she would, only that she would see what was happening at the plant.

And here I am, seeing what's happening. Professor Goodwitch has nothing to complain of.

She walked forwards, arms up a little, her tail drooping limply behind her. Her breath misted up in the air a bit before her as she walked, slowly but steadily, towards the plant itself.

Nothing emerged out of the darkness to assail her, nobody shot at her from concealment, nobody suddenly started a car and then tried to run her over.

She was alone out here.

That was good for her body, but it didn't do Sunset's nerves much good as she approached the door.

The door had scanners mounted on the wall next to it, more than one, but the door — a solid metal door, painted bright yellow — was open in spite of them. There were no lights coming from inside, at least not as far as Sunset could see.

She stepped gingerly through the open door, trying to push it open a little more so that she didn't have to squeeze through quite so much; it didn't budge — she guessed it was automated to swing back and forth rather than yielding to a human hand — but by putting her back into it, she was able to move it just a fraction; she still had to sidle through, but it felt just a little bit easier.

Through the door, she found herself in what looked like a dark lobby. A white-bearded security guard sat behind a desk: he was dead, head thrown backwards, mouth gaping open. Someone had shot him between the eyes.

Something happened here, then.

The … the grimm cultists attacked the police, and then the soldiers attacked both of them? And then they cut through the gate, came here, killed the guard, and then … what?

And how many soldiers are in here?

With her aura, the numbers wouldn't have worried her. Without her aura…

Sunset got out her scroll and tapped out a brief message.

Weiss

Am inside the power plant. Think soldiers have been in here.

Am going in.

She sent it to Weiss, then climbed over the waist high security barriers.

Of course, she shouldn't have to fight the soldiers, not at this point. Whatever they had done before, whatever they had been sent to do, that was all over now. Sonata was dead, General Blackthorn had been relieved, Colonel Sky Beak had ordered all units back to their barracks. Perhaps that was why Sunset hadn't seen any of them, because they'd all left on Colonel Sky Beak's orders.

But then, why didn't they take their vehicles with them?

Unlike the Valish Military Headquarters, this place was well signposted; just beyond the security barriers, Sunset saw signs for the cafeteria, maintenance, payroll & human resources, and reactor control. It was towards the latter that Sunset headed, thinking to maybe find out what had gone on here, why the power was out.

She could guess, but she didn't know for sure, and her guess didn't tell her why the soldiers didn't appear to have returned to barracks in their vehicles.

The corridors of the power plant had grey walls, with visible pipes running along both sides of the walls and the ceilings above. Sunset wondered what was running through those pipes; dust had to be running through at least some of them, water maybe, and perhaps other things as well that she couldn't guess at.

She came across a dead soldier, sprawled out in the corridor; he hadn't been shot, as far as Sunset could tell when she knelt down to examine the body; rather, it looked as though he had been struck from behind, hard enough to stove the back of his head in.

He wasn't the only one. The bodies were not pressed close together; rather, they were spread out, as though they had been deliberately killed at a distance from one another. It was disconcertingly like a path, a path leading her step by step, yard by yard, inexorably towards the reactor control room.

The door to the control room was ajar. There was a dead body right outside of it and light spilling out from within, bright lights that threatened to blind Sunset's night vision until she dispelled the enchantment on herself, and then it was only light.

She pushed at the door. It swung open for her, allowing her to step over the body and into a room lined on one side with terminals and monitors, displaying things and controlling things that Sunset wouldn't have wanted to touch for fear of blowing something up.

The room was large, spacious, but empty, save for a single man, a Valish officer in a green uniform with his back to Sunset.

He looked over his shoulder at her. "Are you a huntress?" he asked.

"Something like that," Sunset said softly. She stepped sideways away from the door. "My name is Sunset Shimmer. And you are?"

"Harris," he said. "Major Harris, Royal Fusiliers."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir," Sunset murmured. "But I am a little curious as to what you're still doing here. Councillor Emerald ordered all units back to barracks, I believe."

"Yes," Major Harris said. "Yes, I understand he did. He gave the order after…" He paused for a moment. He had his pistol drawn, holding it in one hand, fondling the black barrel with the other. "Have you had a nightmare, Miss Shimmer?"

"Upon occasion, sir, yes," Sunset said.

"I woke from a nightmare," said Major Harris. "A nightmare in which I did things, terrible things, and then I woke up and found that it was no nightmare at all. I had done all those things. The nightmare was my life, and it always would be."

"The police outside," Sunset said.

"Yes," Major Harris said. "I can't … seemed so clear at the time, but now … all that I remember is that I did it."

"And…" Sunset licked her lips. "Where are the people who man this power station?"

"Most of them are locked in the cafeteria, for their own safety," Major Harris said. "A few of them died before I — before we — woke up, but not many, thank gods. Most of them still live."

That's one piece of good news, at least. "And the soldiers?" Sunset asked. "Were they your men?"

"They were," Major Harris confirmed. "I did … justice to them. They have paid for their crimes, as I must pay for mine." He raised his pistol to his head.

"WAIT!" Sunset shouted, one hand beginning to glow with magic, so that she could yank the gun out of his hand if he wouldn't listen to her. "Wait, please, for … just, please, wait. No, don't wait, don't just wait, just … just don't. Don't do this, sir, please."

Major Harris stared at her from over his shoulder. "You don't understand," he whispered.

Sunset took a step towards him, holding out her hands, palms outwards. "I think I might understand better than you realise, sir."

"I've killed men," he said.

"So have I," Sunset told him. "And … I won't sugarcoat it for you, because you wouldn't believe me if I tried; you'll have to live with what you've done. You'll always have to live with what you've done. But that's just the point, Major Harris, you have to live with it. Because no matter what you've done, no matter, you can always do better. Always. No exceptions. Unless you pull that trigger, because if you do, then … what? If it would bring a single dead man or woman out there back from the dead, a life for a life, then maybe, sure, do it, make the trade. But it won't. You know it won't. Not a single one."

"No," Major Harris allowed. "But it will…" He trailed off.

Sunset took another step closer. "Will what, sir?" she asked, sensing that she might be getting through to him. "What will it do?"

When Major Harris spoke again, his voice was shaking. "Justice?" he suggested, as though he wasn't sure of the answer.

"Justice," Sunset repeated quietly. "I … I won't claim to know much about justice, save that it is a hard word for a hard thing, to my mind. Was it justice that demanded that you…?" She searched for a way to say 'was it justice that you kill your own men?' without making it sound as though she was judging him for it.

"Punish my troops?" Major Harris finished for her. "Yes, yes, it was. That was justice."

A hard thing indeed. Sunset considered that the Major's mood would hardly be improved to find out that he had been the victim of mind control — considering what he'd just done to his soldiers, it would probably make him feel like even more of a murderer than he did already.

"You followed orders," she said softly.

"Does that excuse me?" asked Major Harris. "Does that excuse my hands?"

"I don't know," Sunset admitted. "I'm not an expert on justice. I prefer mercy."

"And so you would have me show myself the mercy I didn't show those under my command?"

"Well, if I'd gotten here, I would have urged mercy on them, too," Sunset said. She paused. "Did it help?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Did it help? It's a simple question," Sunset replied. "Did killing all your soldiers, did delivering justice to them, did it help?"

"Help who?" asked Major Harris. "Help what?"

"Help you, help them, help anyone?" Sunset demanded. "Has your justice saved any lives? No. Has it brought anyone who was dead back to life? No. All you've done … to be blunt, sir, all you've done in your pursuit of justice is add more bodies to a pile of them that was too large already. I'm not sure another for the mound will change that. Do you think that you're a murderer, sir?"

Major Harris was silent for a moment. "I didn't."

"And do you think your troops were murderers?"

"No," Major Harris said softly. "No, I did not."

"None of this was your fault, sir," Sunset said. "None of this was the fault of anyone under your command—"

"Then I must answer for their deaths, if not for the actions that we committed together under General Blackthorn's orders," said Major Harris.

"And what good will that do?" Sunset asked. "How will your death brighten this night, instead of adding to its sorrows?"

"It will mean that I don't have to live with what I've done," said Major Harris, in a quiet voice.

Sunset hesitated for a moment. "What were you living for before, if you don't mind me asking, sir?"

Major Harris glanced at her. "Excuse me?"

"Why did you get up in the morning?" Sunset asked him. "What were you living for? Why did you put that uniform on each day, or even in the first place?"

Major Harris laughed bitterly. "A couple of years ago, I considered taking it off. I joined the Valish Defence Force because I wanted to protect Vale, to do my duty, but all that we did was … it was so boring that it became hard to convince myself that it was worthwhile. I offered my resignation. If only it had been accepted then—"

"Then someone else would have received General Blackthorn's order and come here," Sunset told him.

"But not I," said Major Harris.

"No," Sunset admitted. "But not you. Why wasn't your resignation accepted?"

"I was persuaded to stick it out, for the sake of my pension," Major Harris replied. "For the sake of my pension, I … I have done…"

"What would you have done instead?" asked Sunset. "What did you plan to do when you left the Defence Force."

"I thought about applying to join the police," Major Harris said. "I might have ended up answering the scrolls, but I thought I couldn't feel less useful than I did in the military."

"Because you still wanted to protect Vale," Sunset said. "You still wanted to be of service. Well, I've got good news for you, sir, you still could." Hopefully, the police wouldn't hold all of this against former soldiers looking for a career change. "Vale still needs good people, it still needs public servants and protectors, now more than ever, maybe. With all this chaos and confusion, everything that's happened tonight … I hope Councillor Emerald will survive politically as well as physically, but he may not; your mob is fickle. If he doesn't, or even if he does, Vale is … likely to be a bit of a mess going forward, I think, wouldn't you agree?"

Major Harris snorted. "You might be understating the case."

"Vale will need every willing hand that it can get in the days to come," Sunset said. "You can be amongst those willing hands … or you can be another body on the mound. I don't think you really need me to tell you which of those options serves Vale best."

Major Harris closed his eyes. "But I will have to live with what I've done."

"Yes," said Sunset. "Yes, you will, you must. And I won't pretend that it will be easy or that you'll never wish you'd ignored me tonight, but … when you look back at all that you've done after tonight, you'll agree that it was worth it, I hope. Alive, you may still serve many. Perished … you'll serve no one."

Major Harris was silent. He was silent and as still as stone.

Then the pistol dropped from his hands to clatter to the floor at his feet.

Sunset telekinetically snatched it away, as she let out the breath she hadn't realised she was holding. "Thank you, Major," she said. "Thank you."

"You've no need to thank me," Major Harris said. "Although you'll forgive me if I don't thank you, either." He looked down at his booted feet. "What … what now?"

"Now," Sunset said. "I think that—"

The earth trembled. A great rumbling sound filled the air as Sunset was pitched forwards, falling onto her knees on the floor with a solid thump. Her knees hurt, pain throbbing up her legs, and her hands hurt too as she threw them out to catch her fall.

"What was that?" Sunset demanded, wincing at the pain. She picked herself up, holding out her arms on either side of her for balance as the world continued to shake around her. She ran from the room, or at least, she ran as quickly as she could with the word shaking, with the pipes trembling above and around her, with the ceiling feeling as though it might cave in at any moment. She ran past or over the bodies of the Valish soldiers, vaulted over the security barrier in the lobby, out of the door and into the darkness.

The rumbling filled the air, coming from the east, from the south east, as though it were coming all the way from Mountain Glenn.

What new horrors have you devised? Have you not tormented me enough? Will I never be free of you?

Sunset turned southeast as the rumbling stopped, as the shaking in the earth stopped.

She turned southeast in time to see a dragon-like creature rise before the moon, silhouetted by the silvery light, and spread its leathery wings.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Trump Card

​

Rainbow stared out of the cockpit window at the grimm that hovered in the air, silhouetted against the moon.

Blake and Ciel were both squeezed into the cockpit with her, Blake standing side on between Rainbow and Midnight, Ciel with one hand on Rainbow's chair.

"Look at the size of that thing," Blake murmured. "So far away, and yet, we can see it so clearly?"

"Lady's Grace protect us," Ciel whispered.

Rainbow's eyes were wide. This thing was … it was massive. Blake was right; to be able to see it so clearly, from so far away, it was still almost as far away as the mountains that it had sprung out of — and what was that about, anyway, to burst out of a mountain like an overgrown mole? — and yet, despite being so far away that it was out of CCT range, it was still not only visible, but visible as more than a black spot in the distance. She could make out its wings, its tail; yes, she couldn't see a lot of actual detail, but that was because it had the moonlight to its back. It was still ridiculous the fact that they could see so much at all, and spoke to the size of the grimm.

It wasn't that big grimm, even giant grimm, were unheard of. They weren't. Everyone knew that they were out there, mostly at sea but occasionally to be found on land too. They were called titan-class grimm.

But that 'occasionally' was the word. You didn't see them very often.

Just like you don't see grimm hordes very often normally.

Salem must be pulling out all the stops for this.

It had to be her. Rainbow didn't know how she was doing it, whether she had, like, a magical or a mental link to the grimm, but there was no doubt in her mind that Salem was responsible. After all, the grimm had come up from a mountain not far from Mountain Glenn, if she was any judge; it hadn't come out to play when the city was falling, when the grimm were sweeping down on Vale, when they were rushing through the tunnel, but now, now it decided to get on the dancefloor?

That was too much of a coincidence for Rainbow to accept. Yes, battles attracted grimm — and that was probably resulting in a flow of reinforcements to the attack tonight — but this wasn't the first battle fought around Vale, and this particular grimm wasn't even really around Vale in any sense, so that the fact that it had woken up now was not just a random happenstance or the consequence of the emotions of fighting.

Salem had done this; there was not a doubt in her mind. Not a one.

"She's playing her trump card," Rainbow murmured.

"What?" Blake asked.

"Salem," Rainbow explained. "She isn't making the progress that she wanted to with her other grimm — the attack on the right flank has just stalled out — so she's sending in a game changer to … change the game."

"That … makes sense," Blake said softly. "But why? Why now?"

"Because she's not making the progress that she wanted to," Rainbow repeated.

"If it's that important to her then, and she could send this grimm in whenever she wanted to, then why now?" Blake asked. "Why not send it in first, to spearhead the assault?"

"Because it is very rare?" Ciel suggested. "It stands to reason — or at the very least, it stands to hope — that grimm like these are few in number. Salem may have wished to avoid deploying it unless she had no other choice, in case of it being lost."

"So you think it can be lost?" Blake asked. "You think it can be killed?"

"Any grimm can be killed," Ciel said at once.

"Especially by Atlesian firepower," Rainbow added.

"In any case," Ciel added, "more productive than speculating on the motives of Salem for deploying this grimm here, what are we going to do now?"

"We're going to follow our orders and return to the Atlesian lines," Rainbow said, turning the controls to guide the Skyray in the direction of the Atlesian positions. "We can't take that thing on, we don't have any orders to take that thing on. General Ironwood will … task units as appropriate. He tasked us to take out that Apex Alpha on the hill; he'll task someone else, air units most likely, to take out the … that thing there."

"I hope so," Blake said softly.

"Count on it," Rainbow declared.

"Do you think…?" Blake trailed off.

"Do we think?" asked Midnight. "That is a very interesting question, Blake; I wouldn't count on an affirmative answer from everyone in this cockpit."

"Aha, aha," Rainbow muttered. "I don't know whether to be impressed you've kept your sense of humour at a time like this or to hate the fact that you've kept your awful sense of humour."

"My sense of humour is not awful," Midnight replied affrontedly. "My sense of humour is dry."

"How can you talk like this at a time like this?" Blake demanded.

"Perhaps I have been programmed to lighten the mood in stressful situations?"

Blake's eyebrows rose. "Have you?"

"No," Midnight said. "I simply say what comes into my code without restraint."

"You were about to say something," Ciel prodded.

"Oh, right," Blake said. "I was going to say … do you think that a grimm that size could maybe take the place of an Apex Alpha? Take command of the grimm on this flank?"

"Or even all the grimm," Midnight added.

"Thanks, Midnight," Rainbow muttered.

She paused for a moment. It wasn't as though she couldn't see what Blake was getting at, although she certainly wished that she could fail to see what Blake was getting at. It certainly wasn't a comfortable thought, that all their hard work might turn out to be for nothing, now that a new, much bigger grimm had shown up from Mountain Glenn.

Or even worse.

"It's not going to go down like that," Rainbow assured Blake, and in the process assured herself. "It isn't going to be that way because, even if that other grimm could take command of all the other grimm, it isn't gonna get the chance. You'll see; our airships are going to blow it out of the sky long before it becomes a threat. You'll see. It's going to be taken care of. The General has everything under control."

XxXxX​

Ironwood stared at the image of the grimm in the viewscreen. It was … it was a huge creature, a true titan of a grimm; it had to be the size of one of his cruisers, perhaps even a little larger — although it surely couldn't be much larger than that.

The creature's head alone looked substantial: triangular in shape, large enough to swallow a Skyray whole, the top of the head was covered in white bone, crisscrossed with blood red lines, while the lower jaw was the black, fleshy substance that all grimm were made of. A pair of horns curved backwards from the skull, and Ironwood found that he was in no doubt that the grimm's jaw was full of teeth.

It obligingly opened its mouth to confirm that, yes, it was; no doubt, it had roared, although Ironwood couldn't hear it. He could only see it; there was no sound.

The grimm had a thick, round torso, with bone ribs visible running down the outside of its flesh and a pair of immense wings protruding out on either side. The wings were made up of black fingers, as one might call them, black spurs descending back from the main strut of each wing, strut and spurs alike ending in a white bone claw. Between the spurs stretched a red, leathery-looking substance, so thin that it had holes in it in places, and yet, the grimm seemed to have no trouble at all remaining airborne.

A pair of legs fell from the back of the grimm's torso, ending in a pair of avian feet with vicious-looking claws of bone, while a long tail stretched out behind it, growing thinner as it did so, until it ended in three clawed points, more like an extra limb than a tail.

The grimm's armour was mainly concentrated around its muscles, with long spurs of bone emerging out of its powerful shoulders, with other, smaller spurs emerging from thick thighs; the rest of its body had some bone visible, but not a lot; its body was mostly black and unprotected.

Hopefully, that would work to their advantage.

Fitzjames rose half out of his chair, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the arms. "What…?"

"Look at the size of that thing," murmured des Voeux.

"That'll do," Ironwood said sternly, or at least putting the appearance of sternness into his voice. "I know that this thing looks big, and I know that its appearance is unexpected, but it's still just a grimm, and gods know that we've killed plenty of grimm tonight already. Whatever its size, whatever its capabilities, it is as mortal and as vulnerable as the youngest beowolf or ursa, and like them, we will take it down. Cunningham, what's it doing?"

"It's moving on a course that will take it in front of the Green Line, sir."

"Across the face of the line?" Ironwood asked.

"Yes, sir," Cunningham replied. "If it doesn't change its course, then it will pass across it and continue north."

"I see," Ironwood murmured. He would bet a lot that the grimm was not going to continue on its present course indefinitely. More likely, it would wheel to the left at some point and assault the Green Line, or the Atlesian air units position overhead. Assuming it was still alive by then.

"Des Voeux," he said. "Patch me through to all units."

"Aye aye, sir," replied des Vœux. "Putting you through now."

Ironwood cleared his throat. "Soldiers, sailors, and pilots of the Atlesian forces. Specialists. Students of Atlas Academy. You have fought and displayed bravery that will resound throughout the annals of our kingdom and the history of its military. Were this battle over, you would have already done deeds worthy to be remembered on the colours of your battalions.

"Unfortunately, the battle is not over yet.

"You will have all felt, and many of you will have seen, the emergence of a new, large grimm from the southeast of Vale. I am designating that grimm a 'dragon.' It is heading in our direction, and I have no doubt that it means to join the battle here.

"I'm not going to pretend that it poses no threat. What I will say to you — what I will remind you — is that the hordes of grimm confronting you across the field when this battle began also posed a threat, the grimm who continue to assail your positions continue to pose a threat, but they are threats that you have withstood, your courage buttressed by superior firepower and tried and tested battlefield tactics. We will withstand the dragon in the same way.

"Ground units, continue to hold your positions and trust in your cruisers and supporting air squadrons to protect you; infantry commanders, you should be prepared to rely more heavily on ground fire from the spiders just in case air support is disrupted. Air units, be prepared to engage the dragon as directed.

"We have the firepower, and we have the resolve to use it. So trust your ships, trust your weapons, and trust your comrades, and this dragon will be just one more incident in a long night. Ironwood out." He paused for a second, to let des Voeux cut off communications to the other Atlesian units, before he said, "Get me Spitfire on the line."

XxXxX​

A green laser beam burst from the cannon mounted about Spitfire's cockpit, flying over her head and into the darkness to hit a nevermore square in the breast. The grimm was punctured like a balloon, exploding in a burst of black feathers barely visible in the night sky.

"Wonderbolt Lead, this is Valiant."

Spitfire hauled back on her stick, turning her Sky Dart upwards and to the right, angling the airship a little away from the battle momentarily. "This is Wonderbolt Lead, reading you loud and clear, Valiant."

"Spitfire," General Ironwood said, "I need you to take your squadron and intercept and destroy that dragon before it reaches our positions."

"Copy that, sir; we'll get it done." Spitfire said calmly.

It wasn't an unexpected order, really. It was obvious from the moment that that thing — the dragon — appeared in the sky that someone would have to take it out, and it was no real surprise — at least not to Spitfire — that that someone ended up being the Wonderbolts.

When you had an elite squadron lying around, or flying around, why not use it, after all?

Nor was it very surprising that the General wanted the dragon destroyed sooner rather than later. With a grimm that size, you didn't want to give it too many chances to show what it could do.

There was the issue of having to engage it over the heads of the grimm, but you had to take these risks sometimes.

"Good hunting. Ironwood out."

Spitfire immediately switched to the squadron channel. "Okay, Wonderbolts, listen up. We are going to engage and destroy that dragon. Disengage and form up on me in arrowhead formation by flight."

Spitfire climbed higher, higher than the Atlesian cruisers, higher than the rest of the aerial battle, before she levelled off and waited for the rest of the squadron to break off the action — they had split up by pairs, and it would take some of them longer to clean up and form up than others. Nobody wanted to just turn around and leave a nevermore or a griffon or, worse yet, a teryx hanging around in the sky to possibly follow them.

None of her pilots were in trouble, nobody had called for help, nothing looked alarming on her sensors — except, of course, for that dragon — and she hadn't lost any pilots since the incident with those two Valish fliers around the Amity Arena, but some of the Wonderbolts were dealing with trickier grimm than others and would take a little longer to take care of business.

From her holding position, hovering above the battle, Spitfire could look down — although she had to angle her Sky Dart just a little bit to get a decent look — and see the fighting raging in the sky below. While there was fighting going in the skies even beyond the Atlesian front lines, as fighter pilots sought to protect the bombers and stop the flying grimm from intercepting their strafing or bombing runs, the aerial fighting was heaviest around the cruisers. The grimm weren't stupid, especially when they were gathered in these numbers, and they knew that Atlesian success — and their own inability to break the Atlesian line — owed a lot to the firepower that those cruisers could rain down on the ground in support of the infantry. And so, while the grimm were making some efforts to intercept the bombers — mostly failing efforts — the majority of the nevermores and the griffons and the teryxes were preoccupied with throwing themselves against the cruisers, trying to break through the fighter screens and overwhelm the point defences and claw their way inside the vessels.

They hadn't been wholly unsuccessful. They'd brought down the Third Squadron's Gallant, which had been formed on the flank of the line and vulnerable to attack from two sides. Now that the Fourth Squadron had moved into position on the wing, it was the Daring that was catching the heat at the lynchpin of the formation, although it was getting covering fire from the Endurance and seemed to be holding out.

That had been where Spitfire had been fighting, around the Daring, to keep the grimm at bay at the corner where the lines of the Third and Fourth met. Looking down, it seemed that, even in her absence, the Daring was holding strong, protected by the other squadrons and by its own formidable array of weapons. It would still be there when the Wonderbolts returned.

"That's a big grimm, Leader," observed Silver Zoom.

"You worried, Two?" asked Spitfire.

Silver Zoom took a second to reply. "It's big for us," he said.

"It's just a big target, that's all," Spitfire reassured her wingman. She didn't mention the other reason for a fighter squadron being given this assignment, that being the difficulty of pulling a cruiser out of the line to engage the dragon. Silver Zoom didn't need to be told that they were being given this task because it was more convenient to use smaller airships.

Especially when that wasn't the main reason.

He wasn't wrong; it was a big grimm, and it was only getting larger as Spitfire waited for her squadron to form up. But big grimm, however rare they might be, were a fact of life, and just because they were big didn't make them invincible. Big though it was, the dragon didn't look very heavily armoured — it would probably struggle to get off the ground if it was — with most of its bone concentrated around one half of its face. Shots to its body, where it was a lot less well protected, would hurt it; shots to its wings would drop it to the ground.

It was not an insurmountable obstacle.

Pair by pair, the Wonderbolts — the remaining Wonderbolts, after they'd lost Lightning Streak — formed up behind Spitfire, sweeping back from her on either side like an arrowhead. One and Two Flight formed up in diamonds; Three Flight, with only three airships, formed a miniature arrowhead of their own, with Blaze in the lead and Sun Chaser and Fast Clip on his wings.

Soarin' and Misty, Wonderbolts Five and Six, were the last to arrive, forming up in front of Seven and Eight at the head of Two Flight.

"Took your time, Five," Spitfire remarked.

"It was a tough old bird, leader; it made me work for the kill," Soarin' replied.

Spitfire didn't respond; instead, she said, "Wonderbolts, move forward." She levelled off her Sky Dart as she urged the airship straight forward, opening up the throttle, not to the maximum — she'd save that for when they were actually engaging — but to a fast speed that would carry them over the heads of the grimm hordes to intercept the dragon before it entered the combat zone.

They headed out, beyond the line of Atlesian cruisers and even beyond the airships fighting beyond the Atlas line. Below them, the grimm were spread out; although this horde, over on the right, had gotten a little less frisky just before the mountain burst open and the dragon popped out. Fleetfoot had reported seeing a lone Skyray heading out over the heads of the grimm a little while ago — Spitfire had been too distracted by a teryx to notice it on her sensors — but if the General had ordered a strike force out to locate the Apex Alpha of the horde, then that would explain why the grimm on that side of the battle had suddenly started acting like a bunch of penguins.

One of the reasons to kill the dragon quickly was to make sure that it stayed that way.

"Okay, Wonderbolts," she said. "On my mark, before we get into range, the squadron will break by pairs — or by flight, Three Flight — and move around the grimm. Two Flight, break to the left; Three and Four, Nine, Eleven and Twelve, move to the right. I will engage the grimm first and draw its attention. When it's focussed on me, the rest of you will engage with lasers and missiles and destroy this thing with sustained fire."

"What about me, Leader?" asked Silver Zoom.

"You will stay in front of me at all times, Two, as we run away," Spitfire replied, prompting a round of chuckling from the pilots of the squadron. She had designated herself as the bait because it would have been a rough business to order anyone else in the squadron to expose themselves to the grimm's teeth like that, but she had no intention of having Two be between her and those same fangs. If he got eaten by the grimm, it would only be because she had been devoured first, and she had no intention of that.

"Is there anyone who doesn't have any missiles left?" Spitfire demanded.

"I've only got one left, Leader," High Winds admitted sheepishly.

"'One'?" Spitfire repeated. She wasn't entirely happy about that, but High Winds wasn't a rookie pilot that she could — or should — demand an account of what he'd been shooting at off him. She had to trust that it had been necessary at the time. Sometimes, a missile really was your best option.

Which was why she only had three of them left.

It would do, especially since she wouldn't be doing a lot of shooting if things went to plan.

Sensors showed that the Wonderbolts and the dragon were on an intercept course, and the view from the cockpit showed that the dragon was aware of them; having descended at first, it had now risen up, level with the Atlesian airships. The moonlight shone on the bone of its head and on the spurs of its shoulders as it beat its wings furiously. It accelerated in the air towards them.

"Wonderbolts, break off; be ready to engage on my command," Spitfire said.

With her eyes fixed upon the approaching dragon, Spitfire could only glance down at her sensors, which told her that the rest of her squadron was moving away from her, circling around and above the dragon.

Only Silver Zoom remained, tucked in behind her.

"Stay tight, Two," Spitfire said. "And be ready to turn and run eastwards."

"East, Leader?"

"Copy that, east," Spitfire said. "I don't want to lead this thing right towards our line; that would defeat the object. If we have to give it the runaround, then let's lead it away from the battle."

"Understood, Leader; east it is," said Silver Zoom.

The dragon turned its head and long neck to the right, starting to look up after half the Wonderbolts.

Spitfire opened fire with her laser cannon. The range was long, the first of the green beams fizzled out without quite hitting the target, and even as Spitfire got closer, they made no impact as they struck the dragon's skull. But she got the grimm's attention back, that large skull swinging back down to glare at her.

"Yeah, that's right," Spitfire muttered. "Here I am."

The dragon opened its mouth; Spitfire couldn't hear it, but she imagined that it must have been roaring at her as it surged through the night sky, enormous wings beating furiously.

It was kind of amazing it could stay airborne at all with those wings, what with the holes in them, let alone fly so fast.

The dragon raced towards her, and Spitfire soared forwards to meet it, still firing her laser cannon to make sure that she held the grimm's attention.

Silver Zoom was firing too, his laser beams passing over Spitfire's wing; both beams hit the dragon square in the head, the green energy dissipating upon impact, washing over the white bone, doing next to nothing that Spitfire could see.

As expected. Grimm armour could be tough, especially when the grimm was this big. But it wasn't armoured everywhere.

"Two, fall back," Spitfire instructed.

"Copy that, Leader, falling back now," Silver Zoom replied. Spitfire's sensors showed him turning away, heading away from the dragon but also eastwards, toward the mountains that marked the edge of Vale.

Spitfire stayed on course, flying straight at the dragon as it flew straight at her. She kept on firing her laser cannon, green bolts splashing harmlessly against the white bone.

"Leader?" Silver Zoom asked.

"Not yet," Spitfire said. "Just a little more."

The dragon was looming very large now; it was close enough to seem pretty much life-sized, its head larger than Spitfire's Sky Dart, its body the size of a cruiser, its wings immense as they spread out from side to side. Its long neck was outstretched, and it opened its mouth to swallow Spitfire whole.

Spitfire spun in place, reversing thrust on the left side to spin her airship a full one hundred and eighty degrees in the air. She reversed the direction of her thrusters again and punched it to maximum speed, the Sky Dart jumping forwards one step ahead of the dragon as its jaws closed.

A quick glance down at the sensors confirmed that the dragon — a large red blob on the scope — was following her; it wasn't getting any closer, thank gods, but it wasn't losing ground, either.

Maximum speed, and it's managing to keep pace.

Spitfire turned, angling eastwards, following Silver Zoom. The dragon turned too, but it was turning on the inside track, so it began to gain on her, forcing Spitfire to turn away again more due north in order to keep her distance from it.

But, as another glance at her scope confirmed for her, the rest of Wonderbolt Squadron was in position, arrayed behind and around the dragon, ready to attack.

"Wonderbolts," she ordered. "Fire at will!"

"Wonderbolt Five, missiles away."

"Wonderbolt Six, missiles away."

"Wonderbolt Three, missile away."

"Wonderbolt Four, missiles away."

The chorus of 'missiles away' from all the members of her squadron was matched by the indicators on the scope as missiles — multiple missiles in the case of all save High Winds, who only had one missile and had now shot it — appeared on the sensors, streaking through the air towards the dragon. The grimm didn't realise, its attention fixed on Spitfire, bent on her to the exclusion of everything else.

The missiles closed in.

Spitfire risked a glance over her shoulder, angling her airship slightly to give her a view of the dragon as the Wonderbolts' missiles streaked through the night sky towards it from all directions, getting closer and closer.

The missiles struck home, not all at once but pretty close to it, explosions building upon explosions as the dragon's body was consumed in fire; the explosions wrapped around its immense torso, neck and wings and tails sticking out of the fireball as the grimm opened its mouth, neck twisting left and right.

Spitfire could imagine it howling in pain.

The dragon emerged from out of the fireball unharmed, at least visibly unharmed, none of its black flesh damaged, none of its bone cracked, looking no different than before the missiles had struck.

It was still coming after Spitfire.

Spitfire turned east again; this allowed the dragon to close in on her, a little, but the alternative was to lead it towards the Atlesian line, and that wasn't something she was willing to contemplate.

Besides, the dragon would be brought down soon.

"Keep firing," Soarin' said. "We have to be hurting it. Wonderbolt Five, missiles away."

"Wonderbolt Four, switching to the heavy laser; everyone, stay clear."

"Wonderbolt Nine, switching to laser."

"Wonderbolt Twelve, missiles away."

Spitfire could see the missiles on her sensors, streaking towards the dragon before disappearing as they struck. She could see, reflected in the glass of the cockpit, the dim sheen of the lasers — the green lasers of the ordinary cannons mounted on every Sky Dart; the red beams of the larger, cruiser calibre cannons carried by Fire Streak, Fleetfoot, and Fast Clip — as they illuminated the darkness.

And in her sensors, she could see the dragon, the malevolent red blob on the scope, continuing to pursue her.

"Leader, this is Two," said Silver Zoom. "I can see something in its mouth."

"Two, can you be a little more specific?" asked Spitfire.

"It's something yellow," Silver Zoom began. "Leader, I think it's charging an attack; you need to evade, now!"

Spitfire yanked the stick hard to the left in a move that would pull her Sky Dart downwards, just as a yellow beam, thicker than the laser from a cruiser's main gun, tore through the air right past her airship.

It passed so close that, even through the visor on her helmet, Spitfire could feel the intensity of the blazing yellow. It passed so close that she could feel the searing heat through the cockpit.

It passed so close that it burned her right wing and engine block off, searing the side of the airship and leaving black scorch marks down the cockpit. Spitfire was shoved violently to her left, slamming her shoulder into the side of the cockpit as her airship rocked and bucked like a wild mustang.

Red lights flashed on Spitfire's dashboard. Alarms blared in the cockpit.

"Warning. Warning. Starboard side engine failure," said the airship's computer in a deceptively soothing voice.

Engine disappeared, more like, Spitfire thought as she fought for control. The stick wrestled with her, jinking up and down, left and right as the Sky Dart began to plummet through the air.

"Warning. Warning. Losing altitude."

"No kidding!" Spitfire snapped, as she hauled back on the stick with all her strength.

She could feel the nose of her Sky Dart trying to rise, jerking up a little to the left, but it wasn't enough; she wasn't getting the lift.

"Leader, what's your status?" Soarin' demanded.

Spitfire could see flames burning on the right side of her airship. "Going down," she said. "Repeat, going down, trying to regain altitude."

"Regain altitude so, what, the grimm can get you?" Soarin' said loudly. "You can't fight with only one engine; punch out now."

"Punch out with that thing in the sky?" Spitfire replied.

"Leader," Silver Zoom said. "It's coming around for you!"

Spitfire's sensors were a bit on the fritz as a result of the damage, the image distorted by static, but despite the rippling across the screen, the way that it blacked out and then back on, she could still make out the red blob of the dragon swinging around and coming back towards her.

Spitfire gritted her teeth, continuing to pull on the stick.

It continued to have no effect; the airship just wasn't responding.

"Warning. Warning. Losing altitude."

"Leader, this is Five; I guarantee you a safe landing, but you need to eject!" Soarin' insisted.

On her fuzzy, fritzing scope, Spitfire could see Soarin's Skydart racing towards her.

Well, if Soarin' says he's got my back.

"This is Wonderbolt Leader, ejecting now," Spitfire said, and pulled the handle beside her chair.

XxXxX​

"Misty, hang back," Soarin' said as he gunned his Sky Dart downwards towards Spitfire's stricken airship — and towards the dragon that was bearing down on it.

"Wonderbolts, continue firing," he said. He wasn't quite ranking officer of the squadron — Spitfire wasn't technically out of the fight, although it was only a matter of time — but nobody was going to quibble with that at a time like this. They all knew that Spitfire would be fully preoccupied fighting with her damaged airship.

Come on, Captain, get out of there.

Soarin' didn't fire. He'd ordered everyone else to keep firing in case they managed to get the dragon's attention, but from where he was, heading downwards like he was, he didn't want to accidentally miss and hit Spitfire's airship by mistake.

"Warning. Waring. Altitude decreasing."

"That's the idea," Soarin' muttered, continuing to hold the stick down and keep his Sky Dart in a steep dive no matter what the computer said.

He was closing the distance. Both the dragon and Spitfire's airship were growing closer. An intact Sky Dart with all systems go was definitely faster than a damaged Skydart with one engine gone and a side on fire, and at full throttle, he was faster than the dragon too.

Just so long as Spitfire's airship was also faster than the dragon.

It was a little slow on the descent, or maybe it had slowed down. That made sense. A thing that big might be fast, but it couldn't turn easily — just to turn back on Spitfire it had to take a laborious way around — and it would be even worse pulling up from a dive. It wouldn't want to go too fast to catch Spitfire just to plough into the ground face-first afterwards because it couldn't change direction.

That was keeping Spitfire alive right now.

There was no sign of an ejection. The Sky Dart kept twitching, the nose moving just a little to the right; Soarin' could imagine Spitfire pulling on it, fighting with the controls to no avail.

It's no good; that thing's done. Sky Bolt pilots might boast endlessly about the survivability of their machine — two engines down and the body on fire and all that — but the Sky Dart was a more fragile animal; it couldn't take that kind of damage.

And even if it could, an airship that damaged would be a liability in this fight.

Soarin' was coming up alongside the dragon now; he could look out of the cockpit and see a red eye burning in its bone skull. Considering how tough even its unarmoured flesh was proving to be — Soarin' could also see laser blast slamming into its back, none of them seeming to have any effect on it whatsoever — Soarin' wasn't sure it needed any bone at all, even on its head.

It did add to its air of menace, though.

The dragon glared at him, or looked as though it was glaring at him; it was still going after Spitfire. Maybe it was just the way its eyes were placed made it look like it was looking at him.

It was gaining on Spitfire's damaged airship.

"Leader, this is Five," Soarin said. "I guarantee you a safe landing, but you need to eject!"

There was a pause.

"This is Wonderbolt Leader, ejecting now!"

Soarin' saw the canopy burst off Spitfire's airship, seconds before Spitfire herself erupted out of the cockpit, rocketing into the sky as the rockets of her chair fired. The dragon looked up.

"Oh no, you don't," Soarin' growled as he swerved his airship to the left, passing right in front of the dragon's face.

"Wonderbolt Five, defending," Soarin' declared as he slammed one fist down hard onto the flares button on the side of the cockpit.

There were no missiles in the air, nothing tracking him that might be thrown off by the array of flares that burst out from behind the airship — but they flew out right into the dragon's face, and while he wasn't expecting them to hurt it any, Soarin' thought they might get its attention.

Given the way the dragon rounded on him, turning in pursuit, Soarin' thought that he might have been right.

Soarin' was going at maximum speed; since Spitfire had been able to keep ahead of it moving that quickly, his main concern was that beam attack that had crippled Spitfire's airship. He kept his own Sky Dart moving, swerving to the left or to the right, not presenting a straight and level target for the dragon to aim at.

He switched comms to the command channel. "Command, this is Wonderbolt Five; Wonderbolt Leader has been forced to eject; requesting recovery at her beacon." All airship pilots carried a transponder so they could be picked up if they were shot down.

"Copy that, Wonderbolt Five; recovery team will be dispatched shortly."

"Also," Soarin' went on, "the dragon has some kind of beam attack; it is not harmless from a distance; repeat, it is not harmless from a distance."

"Wonderbolt Five, this is General Ironwood; what kind of beam are we talking about?"

"Some kind of energy beam, I think, sir," Soarin' replied. "It's hard to be clearer."

"I see," said General Ironwood quietly. "How's it going out there?"

"We're hitting it with our best shots, but no luck yet," Soarin' admitted. "But we haven't given up yet, sir; I'm about to try something new. If you'll excuse me, sir."

"Of course."

"Thank you, sir; Wonderbolt Five out," Soarin' said, switching back to the squadron channel. "Two, stay with Leader. Make sure she lands okay, set down, wait with her until recovery arrives."

"You want me to land, Five?" Silver Zoom asked incredulously.

"I don't—"

"Move, Soarin'; it's charging up!" Misty shouted.

Soarin rose, the Sky Dart bursting up into the air as the dragon's energy attack passed by underneath it. It was bright, but it didn't actually touch his airship; there were no reports of damage, no alarms.

But Soarin' let out a breath afterwards. He took a breath, to get it back. "Thanks, Six," he said. "Two, I don't want Spitfire to be waiting alone in the dark in grimm country with only a pistol for company until the lifeboat shows up. Do you have your DMR in the cockpit?"

"Yeah, I do," Silver Zoom said. Being Specialists as well as pilots, each member of the Wonderbolts had a custom weapon, but the risks of it getting destroyed if your Sky Dart went down meant that most members of the squadrons took only basic guns with them for company in the cockpit, just in case.

"Then that's why I want you on the ground with Leader," he said. "Do it."

"Understood, Five; descending now," Silver Zoom said.

Soarin' nodded. The dragon was still coming after him, rising up after his airship much faster than it had followed Spitfire on the descent. But the Sky Dart was not only faster but more manoeuvrable, and when Soarin' rolled to come down behind the dragon, the much bigger grimm didn't have much recourse — except to flick its tail Soarin' way, the three claws at the end of it reaching out for his airship like fingers on a hand. Soarin' rolled away but felt the Sky Dart bump as at least one claw scraped along the undercarriage.

It didn't seem to have damaged any systems.

"Wonderbolts," Soarin' said, "hitting the body doesn't seem to be doing anything, so we'll try hitting the wings, see if we can knock it out of the sky."

He glanced at his scope. The dragon was moving away from him.

In the direction of the battle.

"It's ignoring us," Soarin' said. "It's going for the cruisers. We need to bring it down now."

He turned his Sky Dart after the dragon as the Wonderbolts raced in pursuit of the grimm.

Is it leaving because it can't catch us or because it has better things to do? Soarin' asked himself. Since when do grimm turn their back on prey?

Since when has anything tonight been normal?

Laser fire lanced out from the Atlesian Sky Darts, flying past the dragon as they missed the thin, constantly moving wings.

Sun Chaser closed in, Fast Clip not far behind him.

"Eleven, Twelve, watch its tail; you're too close," Soarin' warned.

"If I can get close enough, I can shred its wings with my machine guns," Sun Chaser insisted.

"I know what you're planning, but that tail is dangerous," Soarin' said. "Fall back, now."

Sun Chaser ignored him, in a way that he never would have ignored Spitfire — that was the problem with being only a full lieutenant instead of a captain — he and his wingman pressing onwards. Sun Chaser passed the tip of the dragon's tail to get closer to the beating wings.

"Nine," Soarin' snapped. "Get your people under control before they—"

The words were ripped out of his throat as the dragon's tail lashed out, slamming into Fast Clip's Sky Dart hard enough to send it pinwheeling through the night sky, turning round and round in circles, nose over tail.

Sun Chaser belatedly tried to move away, rolling to the left and away from the dragon. It was too late. The three claws of the tail wrapped around his Skyray. Soarin' fired, and he wasn't the only one; laser blasts from the remaining Sky Darts struck the tail repeatedly, but none of them did anything. None of them stopped the tail from crushing Sun Chaser's Sky Dart in its grip.

The airship exploded, a burst of flame enveloping the claws at the end of the tail. Sun Chaser survived the blast, his aura protecting him from it, but leaving him falling through the darkness — until the tail caught him.

The moonlight showed him struggling in the grimm's grip, trying and failing to break free.

The Wonderbolts kept firing, hitting the tail over and over again in the hope that it would force the dragon to drop Sun Chaser. It didn't. The dragon's tail moved, flicking Sun Chaser upwards and forwards, his arms and legs failing as he was hurled over the dragon's body, over its head—

Its head which rose up on its long neck and closed its jaws around him.

Sun Chaser disappeared as the dragon lowered its head once more.

There was a moment of silence amongst the Wonderbolts, broken by a howl of rage from Blaze as she charged, there was no other word it; she must have been holding down the boost with one hand because she was moving consistently faster than the Sky Dart was meant to, machine guns and twenty-millimetres blazing away, the tracer rounds lighting up the night as they blew past the dragon's wings.

Blaze was moving quickly enough that she managed to avoid the dragon's tail, rising over it as it tried to swipe her, staying ahead of it as it reached for him. Blaze dived, getting down underneath the dragon's wings, then pointing her nose upwards so that she could fire straight up into its left wing.

Bullets from the nose and wings of the airship shot up, piercing the red membrane between the dragon's … fingers, for want of a better word.

"Yeah!" Misty shouted. "Get it, Blaze!"

The dragon rolled, and for a second, Soarin' thought — or hoped — that the holes Blaze was tearing in its wings were making it hard to stay airborne. But it wasn't; it was just the dragon rolling so that it could more easily reach for Blaze with its jaws, mouth open to swallow the Sky Dart whole.

Blaze shot up, past the open jaws, only to be hit by the black strut of the dragon's wing as the grimm rolled again, wing dropping, striking the Sky Dart squarely on the nose. The airship crumpled from the nose down, the upward thrust of the engines fighting against the downward force of the huge grimm, before exploding in a fireball that was soon extinguished.

There was no sign of Blaze; certainly no sign of a parachute. The dragon hadn't eaten her like it had swallowed Sun Chaser, it didn't even seem interested, it turned away immediately. But there was no sign of her.

"Nine?" Soarin' said. "Nine, do you copy? Twelve? Twelve, please respond."

There was a crackling on the line. "I can't control it. Ejecting now!"

"Understood, Twelve," Soarin' said, relief in his voice. Only two dead instead of three. I'm doing a great job, aren't I, Spitfire?

He switched to the command channel. "Command, this is Wonderbolt Five; we have another pilot ejecting, requesting recovery. We have also lost two pilots dead or missing, and our weapons are having no visible effect on the grimm. Request permission to break off the attack."

He didn't know if Spitfire would have made that request. Maybe she would, maybe she wouldn't, but the Wonderbolts had now been reduced to six pilots, seven if you counted Silver Zoom, and that was before he sent anyone to find Fast Clip, which he probably should, considering that he'd sent Silver Zoom to keep an eye on Spitfire until the rescue wagon showed up.

But that had been easier when there were still ten of them.

Regardless of whether he actually gave that order or not, the fact remained that there had been eleven Wonderbolts when the fight against the dragon began, and there were now just six of them in the air. And in that time, their best shots hadn't even slowed it down. The dragon was ignoring them now, continuing on towards the Atlesian line, smug in its invulnerability, while the remaining Wonderbolts kept their distance, firing at it from range with lasers that did nothing to either its body or its wings.

Puncturing the wings hadn't dented its ability to fly at all — perhaps the fact that there were already holes there should have been a clue — while laser fire just washed off the skull, and the grimm's body seemed to just absorb damage.

There was nothing they could do. Therefore, in his opinion as ranking officer, continuing to press the assault would only result in the pointless deaths of more Wonderbolts.

But would General Ironwood agree with him?

General Ironwood's voice came over the comm; it sounded heavy, weighed down. "Understood, Wonderbolt Five; we'll get your other pilot out. And your request is granted. Fall back."

Soarin' tried to hold in his sigh of relief. "Understood sir. Thank you, sir. Retreating now. Wonderbolt Five out." He switched back to the squadron channel. "Six, see if you can track Twelve, stay with him until recovery arrives. All other Wonderbolts, follow me; we're breaking contact. We'll head west towards Vale then turn north and return to the Atlesian line from behind."

He just hoped … well, there were a few things that he hoped, including that Spitfire and Fast Clip were both picked up in one piece, but he also hoped that, the Wonderbolts having … having failed — and wasn't that a wonderful thing to admit? — but they had, they'd failed; the dragon had been too much for them.

Which was why Soarin' hoped that General Ironwood had something stronger up his sleeve, for the sake of their entire force.

And for the sake of Vale too.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Carry to Safety

​

Rainbow started to unbuckle herself from her seat even before she had finished landing the Skyray. The door on one side of the airship had started to open already too, and Blake and Ciel leapt out without waiting for Rainbow Dash.

Which was charming, but understandable in the circumstances.

Rainbow had scarcely set the Skyray down — a little more heavily than she would have ordinarily liked, but she was in a rush — then she was up, out of the chair and heading for the exit herself.

"Hey! Wait for me!" Midnight cried before the android body of the autopilot slumped forwards, the light of its face plate disappearing.

Rainbow stopped for a second.

"Okay," Midnight said, her voice now coming once more from Rainbow's scroll. "You can go now."

Rainbow went, following Blake and Ciel out the door and quickly catching up with them as they headed down the light-strewn corridor towards the front line.

The Spider droids that had been silently waiting when they had first arrived here were now firing. Guns roared, and missiles burst in waves from out of the square launchers. Empty carousels were replenished with shells, while cranes hauled missile pods up to refill the spent launchers so they could fire again.

The sound of the guns drowned out every other sound on the battlefield, even the missiles, even the grimm on the other side of the line that the grimm were firing at. At least it did when they were this close to them.

But while the guns muffled sound, they didn't blind the huntresses. The flashes of the muzzles, or the fiery trails of the missiles, couldn't hide the sight of that dragon as it flew across the night sky, coming closer and closer.

Blake said something to her. Rainbow could see her mouth moving, but thanks to the gunfire, she couldn't hear what it was Blake was trying to say. She could kind of make out little bits of sound, but not actual words, nothing that meant anything.

"What?" Rainbow shouted.

Blake made a face which suggested she couldn't hear Rainbow either.

"I—" Rainbow began, before realising there was no point.

She shook her head, then waited until they had moved on, further down the way. They were walking not just towards an Atlesian line but behind one too: the colours, borne by a pair of android Knights, proclaimed them to be the Third Battalion; their battalion standard had a white polar bear upon a sky blue field with the III emblazoned on it.

Some of the soldiers of the Third were shooting, but it was sporadic, limited, not spread out across the whole line. That looked like it was because the grimm weren't attacking everywhere across the whole line; in fact, they barely seemed to be attacking anywhere at all; it was only the odd grimm that even showed itself to the guns of the Third.

Rainbow couldn't help but think that they'd had something to do with that. They and their Beacon friends, they'd killed the Apex Alpha and, in so doing, disrupted the horde on this side of the battlefield, taking the pressure off the Third and the Beacon and Haven students.

It was that side of the battlefield the dragon was coming in from.

But it would die before it got that far, it would be taken out — somehow.

As they had put a little distance between them and the Spider droid artillery, Rainbow turned back to Blake and said, "You were trying to say something before?"

Blake nodded. "I said that that thing is still coming."

"Yeah," Rainbow admitted. "Yeah, it is, but not for long now. It's like the General said: it's just a grimm, and we take out grimm all the time."

"Not a grimm like that," murmured Blake.

"But still just a grimm!" Rainbow insisted. "Have some faith. Our ships, our weapons, they'll get it done. I mean, they've held up so far, right?"

Blake hesitated, before nodding her head vigorously. "Right," she said.

They continued to move towards the line of the Fourth Battalion, passing down the line of the Third as they went. They passed the aid station, which had been empty when they had first come this way but wasn't empty now as medics worked to stabilise the wounded ready for evacuation; they passed Colonel Harper's command post, empty now except for the two Knights with the colours of the Battalion fixed to their backs; and they passed the mortars, firing away over the heads of the troops, just like the artillery, except a whole lot quieter.

As they approached the front, and the corner at which the lines of the Fourth and Third met, Rainbow could see Team TTSS standing amongst the soldiers of the Third; it was easy to spot Trixie by her distinctive hat and cape, both of them sparkling as the moonlight shone upon her moon and stars; Sunburst didn't have a hat, but his cape wasn't that hard to pick out amongst the soldiers either, even if Starlight was hard to make out, being dressed pretty much the same way as the troops around her. Maud was with them too, in her muted sweater, and so was—

"Sun?" Blake gasped.

Sun — Sun? Sun? Really? — turned their way, or Blake's way at least, and got a big grin on his face as he saw her.

"Blake!" he shouted, bounding across the distance between them. "Did you just get back? When I got here, Starlight told me that you'd just left, so, you know, I chilled out with them for a little bit until you showed up again."

"That— yeah, yeah, we just go back," Blake said. "But what are you doing here? I thought Team Sun was heading out to the Mistralian position."

"Yeah, we did," Sun replied. "But then I found out that the commander was going to leave you guys hanging and not even try to retake the line up here so that she could ambush the grimm, and I guess it makes sense why she would do that, but it didn't sit right with me, just letting the grimm get behind you, so I ditched my team—"

"Again," Ciel remarked.

Sun ignored her and continued on, "And I came over here to find you, see if maybe I could help you out a little bit. Only I was a bit late. Sorry about that."

"It's okay," Blake assured him. "The fact that you're here—"

"When you say that you came over here," Rainbow interrupted him, "what do you mean, exactly?"

Sun shrugged. "I left the Mistralians, and I came to you, what else?"

"Yeah, but how?" Rainbow asked, for clarity. "Did you go back, or—?"

Sun shook his head. "No, I just came straight here."

Rainbow blinked. "Straight … straight from the Mistralians? To here?"

Sun frowned. "Yeah. Is there something that you're not getting? Am I not saying it—?"

"Sun, did you come through the grimm?" Blake demanded.

Sun chuckled. "I mean, they were kinda getting in my way a little bit eventu—"

"Sun!" Blake cried. "You could have been killed! You could have been ripped to pieces! You could have been blown up by Atlesian missiles! Why would you take such an enormous risk like that?"

Sun wilted in the face of her anger. His voice went quiet, and pitiful, as he said, "To get to you."

Blake stood there, silent, mouth open but not speaking; probably because Sun had snatched the words and crumpled them up into a paper ball to throw in the bin. Or at least, he'd made it very hard for Blake to say whatever it was that she'd been planning to say next.

Her pale cheeks began to redden.

"You remain, as you always have been," Ciel declared, "an irresponsible, heedless, reckless young man, thoughtless in every sense of the word. And I dare say you will never change." She paused. "But I must admit that you have a good and valiant heart, and I suppose it is better to be of little brain and a good heart than to be of a hard heart, still less than a rotten one."

Sun grinned. "That's me: a good heart and a little— wait, did you just call me stupid?"

"I think you did that to yourself," Rainbow muttered. She patted him on one muscular arm as a smile spread across her face. "Pretty awesome job, all the same."

"Don't encourage this," Blake said, in a low growl that didn't match up with the colour in her cheeks. "Sun, at some point, you and I are going to have to talk about—"

The dragon roared, and though the grimm remained far off — albeit getting nearer, and bigger, with every passing beat of its wings — all the same, the sound of its roar split the night air, drowning out the roaring and the snarling of all the smaller grimm beneath that pressed against the Atlesian line. The sound of the roar swept over the battlefield like a mighty wind and tore the words away from Blake's mouth like stray papers picked up and scattered across town.

"But maybe not right now," Blake added.

They began to move once more, Sun joining them, falling in beside Blake, on the other side of her from Rainbow Dash. Together, they climbed up the metal steps driven into the dirt until they stood on the palisade, looking out at the grimm horde and the battle in front of them.

The grimm had fallen back; not too far, not enough to be out of range — that was why there was still so much shooting going on, both from the artillery and from the rifles up on the ramparts and the walls — but they had retreated; instead of pressing against the Atlesian line, they had scuttled back over the ditches the Atlesians had dug and which the grimm had filled up with still-living grimm. Rainbow found it hard to believe that they were still alive in there, that they weren't killing the ones being crushed underneath and constantly needing new grimm to top up the numbers as the grimm at the bottom turned to ashes. Or maybe they were topping the numbers up, replacing the casualties from shells and missiles that landed on them, and Rainbow had been too preoccupied with the ones getting past the ditch to attack their line to notice. Either way, the grimm that were filling up the ditch were still alive; every so often, she could see one of them twitching their legs or shaking a paw, and they were mostly escaping getting shot at because the grimm climbing over them to cross the ditch were more dangerous, and so, the priority targets.

But those grimm had fallen back right now, back across to the other side of the ditch, where they waited. They were still taking fire while they waited, shells and missiles exploding in amongst their black mass, bullets flaying them from the Atlesian line, but they stood off all the same, enduring the fire, absorbing it. It didn't hurt that these were often pretty big grimm — their front rank consisted of goliaths, and even the beowolves immediately behind were large and mature-looking — and so, they could take the fire without dropping dead from it, and only the artillery or the guns on the Paladins seemed able to really hurt them.

And so they waited. It didn't take a genius to work out what they were waiting for.

"Nice of you to rejoin us, Cadets Dash and Soleil," Colonel Harper said as she strode along the line towards them from the extreme flank of her battalion. She gave Blake a courteous nod. "Belladonna."

"Colonel," Blake said. "We were ordered—"

"Oh, I've no doubt that you were absent on duty," Colonel Harper said, smiling. "Don't worry, I wasn't accusing you of desertion. You'd hardly return, if you were. I trust that whatever your orders, you completed them successfully?"

"Yes, ma'am," Rainbow said at once.

"Then that's all I need to hear," Colonel Harper said. "Even if it is a pity that you couldn't take care of that thing while you were away." She glanced in the direction of the approaching dragon. "Does it trouble you, children?"

"No, ma'am," Rainbow said at once.

"A … little, ma'am," Blake admitted.

Colonel Harper looked at Blake. "A little?" she asked.

Blake hesitated, before she said, "Yes, ma'am. It's … very big."

Colonel Harper chuckled. "Yes, Belladonna, that certainly seems to be the case, doesn't it? And because of its size, because of its strength, because of its eruption upon us, I don't begrudge you a little apprehension." She patted Blake on the shoulder, and her voice rose louder. "But take heart. Every advantage that grimm possesses contains the seed of its undoing. It is large; therefore, it presents a bigger target, and it cannot manoeuvre nimbly. It is powerful, but it is alone, as such titans always are. It comes upon the battlefield suddenly, but that means that it was no part of the grimm plan for this battle, such as existed. Whether in the air or on the ground, we will dance around that sluggish behemoth, bombarding it with fire that cannot fail to find the mark, burying it with bullet and shell casings if we must, while it is unsupported by any grimm, none accompanying it to this fight, none knowing what to do about its presence here. Whether in the air or on the ground, we will teach this creature to fear the might of Atlas — for a few moments, before oblivion consumes it." She looked about to walk past Blake, when suddenly, she noticed Sun. She spoke a bit more quietly than she had done just a second ago. "It's Sun Wukong, isn't it? Of Haven Academy."

"That's right," Sun said. "Um, ma'am."

"I thought the Haven students were somewhere over to the right," Colonel Harper observed.

"I…" Sun started, and then stopped. He stepped behind Blake as though he was trying to hide behind her. "I thought that maybe you could use a hand."

Colonel Harper's gaze flickered between Sun and Blake. "I see," she observed. "Well, you've come to the right place, lover boy; we've certainly no shortage of targets." She raised her voice again as she strode past Blake and the others and down the line, saying, "Keep pouring it into them! Since they're so good as to provide us with a static target, let's not let their benevolence go to waste. Keep firing, don't aim for the goliaths, aim for the smaller grimm behind."

"I do believe," Ciel said softly as Colonel Harper walked away from them, "that you have just played your part in a piece of theatre, Blake."

Blake blinked. "You mean … that she was speaking to the whole unit, not just to me?"

"Precisely," Ciel said, as she raised Distant Thunder to her shoulder. Instead of aiming at the grimm in front of her, she turned, swinging the long barrel of her rifle down the line so that it extended past Rainbow Dash like a rail.

She fired, her large rifle roaring. A goliath jerked, its head twitching before it collapsed to the ground.

"She just said not to aim at the goliaths," Blake pointed out.

"Because so many of our small arms cannot harm them," Ciel replied as she ejected the spent casing to land at her feet with a thud. "Not an issue that affects me."

"Hey! Look who's come crawling back!" Neon said, as she appeared next to Ciel in a rainbow-coloured blur. "Nice of you to show up. You know, not that you were missed or anything."

She fired a couple of shots from her pistol at the grimm; Rainbow didn't see anything drop, but there were so many grimm, and they all blurred together so she might just not have spotted it.

"Soooo," Neon said. "Where did you go?"

A smile flickered across Ciel's face. "If I told you, you would think I was bragging."

"You do realise that acting like that also seems like bragging, right?" asked Neon.

"General Ironwood ordered us to kill the Apex Alpha of the horde on the other flank," Rainbow said.

Neon paused for a moment. "Yeah, Ciel was right, that did sound very braggy. Bunch of show-offs." She fired another shot from her borrowed pistol. "Did you do it?"

"Did we do it?" Rainbow repeated. "Yes, we did it, of course we did it."

"Woah, awesome!" Sun exclaimed. "That's your second one, right Blake?"

"'Second'?!" Neon exclaimed.

"I wouldn't say the first one counts," Blake said.

Again, the dragon roared, and as the dragon was closer, its roar was louder, sweeping across Remnant, drowning out the Atlesian rifle fire, drowning out the grimm, snatching away anything that Blake might have said about why the first Apex Alpha didn't count.

Their eyes were drawn upwards, to where the dragon was flying steadily towards their line with the inevitability of an avalanche rolling down the mountain.

"I … I don't suppose you feel like taking that one out as well, huh, Blake?" Neon asked.

"It'll go down," Rainbow insisted. "Our airships will bring it down, you'll see."

The dragon approached, getting larger and larger in their eyes, and as it approached, the Atlesian cruisers moved out to meet it. The ships of the Third Squadron, formed up in a line above their infantry, began to advance, wheeling to the left to present a line which, when it was completed and all four cruisers moved into position, would face the dragon head on. At the same time, the Fourth Squadron's Vigilant and Courageous also moved out, their point defence systems blazing in all directions around them as they pushed on through the flying grimm as if they were clouds. The Atlesian fighters seemed to redouble their efforts to keep the grimm at bay, driving them off the warships as the two cruisers swung to the right, positioning themselves to also face the dragon, angled inwards a little to achieve a shallow crossfire with the Third Squadron. Rainbow looked to the left, half-expecting to see a ship from First Squadron moving in to support, but she didn't.

But still, six cruisers: Vigilant, Courageous…

"Ciel," Rainbow asked. "What are the ships of the Third Squadron?"

"Daring, Endurance, Reliant, and Ardent are the cruisers," Ciel replied.

Rainbow nodded. "Thanks."

Six cruisers then: Vigilant, Courageous, Daring, Endurance, Reliant, and Ardent. Six ships, six symbols of Atlesian might and power and prowess in war and technology. Six Atlesian airships, six cruisers, six lords of the sky, six daughters of Atlas.

Six cruisers. More than enough to get the job done, no matter how big this grimm was, no matter how loudly it roared, no matter how much it gaped its mouth and showed its teeth, there was no way it was going to get past six Atlesian cruisers. Just looking at them, sleek and sharp with beautiful lines sweeping backwards, as lovely as any dress that Rarity had ever designed or sewed, made Rainbow's heart swell.

People said that the carriers were the pride of Atlas, and they were bigger, sure, but no; no, these cruisers, they were the real pride of Atlas and its military. The pride of Atlas and the guardian angels of the infantry, always watching over them.

Yeah, that grimm was gonna get it now. It had no idea what was coming.

"Is there any way of telling those ships apart?" asked Blake.

Ciel was silent for half a moment before she answered, "Do you see the ship on the far left of the line has a red stripe running down its underbelly? That is the Vigilant."

Blake asked, "Why does it have a red stripe?"

"Because it is commanded by Major Horatia Rouge, and it is a vanity of hers," Ciel explained. "Which means that the ship immediately to its right must be the Courageous of the Fourth Squadron." She paused, turning her attention to the Third Squadron ships on the right flank. "The Endurance, in the centre next to the Courageous, has the laurel wreath markings; they commemorate a successful visit to Mistral two years ago; she participated in and won the Ithome Run, a famous airship race in that kingdom." Again, she paused and must have been wracking her mind. There were subtle differences in the remaining three ships — Daring, Reliant, and Ardent — one of them still had its long range dust tanks attached to the engines, one of them had a slightly longer bow that sharpened to a point like a spear; Rainbow just couldn't use that to tell them apart.

"The Ardent is being used as a test bed for a ram as an offensive weapon," Ciel said. "One we may see some use tonight. I believe it is the Reliant that has not disposed of those dust tanks mounted to the engines; they are used by patrolling vessels that may not see a tanker in some time. Which means the last ship must be the Daring, with nothing outwardly remarkable about it."

Before anyone could say anything else, before they could speak a word, all six cruisers — the Vigilant with her red stripe, Reliant with her long-range tanks, Endurance with her Mistralian racing wreaths, Ardent with her ramming prow, Courageous and Daring whose only glories were that they were Atlesian warships made of northern steel — opened fire upon the fast approaching grimm.

Each cruiser mounted four heavy laser cannons beneath the bow, four red beans from each ship lancing out through the darkness. Not every single beam hit the target — two beams from Vigilant soared over the dragon's back, and all the beams from Daring passed beneath its neck — but most of the red lasers struck home, slamming into the black body of the grimm from all directions.

The dragon roared, but its roar seemed less angry now and more pained, hurt by the number and intensity of the blows being rained down on it.

Rainbow grinned.

"Yeah, that's it," Neon purred. "Scream. Scream for all the good it does you, you—"

"Language," Ciel reproached her, before she'd even said anything.

The cruisers kept firing; those that had missed found their target, while some beams that had hit before missed as the dragon writhed and twisted in the air. Missiles spat from the flanks of every cruiser in swarms, streaking through the night towards their target.

The grimm kept on roaring. Its mouth was gaping wide open.

And there was a yellow glow coming from it.

"What is—?" Blake began.

A beam of its own erupted out of the dragon's mouth, a yellow beam as thick as … really thick and really bright, a beam of something that poured out of the dragon's mouth as it turned its head from left to right, sweeping its beam across the sky.

Missiles caught in the beam were consumed, disappearing in little puffs of fire.

Rainbow was astonished, staring with eyes wide up at the power that the dragon was putting out there, but the officers commanding the cruisers must have seen this coming because as soon as the dragon fired, the Atlesian ships began to rise higher.

The Vigilant, with its distinctive red stripes, managed to gain sufficient altitude that the beam swept harmlessly beneath it, not even scorching the paintwork, even while the Vigilant continued to target the dragon with its underslung cannons.

The Courageous wasn't so lucky; whether the systems were slow to respond or the CO was slow in giving the order, the Courageous didn't get high enough fast enough, and the beam of yellow energy — or whatever — swept across the underbelly of the ship.

They could see the explosions from the ground. The Courageous wasn't destroyed, but it was eviscerated: its lasers were gone, its lower engines were gone, the entire bottom of the ship had been ripped away; Rainbow and the others could look up into the ship from below. What remained of the vessel was blackened by the explosion, burning in places, and falling slowly down towards the ground.

It was only one ship; all the ships of the Third Squadron had, like Vigilant, gotten altitude in time to escape the blast, the yellow beam passing underneath them, but that didn't stop the dragon from roaring in what now sounded a lot like triumph. The grimm surged forward, wings beating furiously, neck and tail and even the big body twisting to avoid the beams from the remaining warships.

As the dragon came closer, the cruisers began to move, sliding sideways and backwards, opening up distance as well as positioning themselves on the flanks of the dragon instead of in front of it.

The dragon dived, looking for a second like it was heading down towards the ground, but no, it wasn't going that far. It only dived beneath the falling Courageous, using the remains of the ship to shield itself from Atlesian fire, and as it descended, it lashed out with its tail, plunging its claws into the bow of Courageous.

The dragon rose, tail bent backwards, back meeting the burned and damaged hull of the cruiser. For a couple of seconds, the dragon looked like it was straining, wings beating hard, a low growl coming out of its mouth, before it managed to not only push the Courageous back upwards but to move it by the grip of its tail-claws. The dragon's tail rose straight up like a cat, and at the end of its tail, it held the Courageous like a weapon in the hands of a huntress.

"Are … are there still people in there?" Sun asked, his voice shaking.

The question was answered by two sets of objects firing from the stricken Courageous. One was escape pods, metallic tubes with enough room for a dozen people in each one, rocketing out from the sides of the ship in both directions, narrowly avoiding the Atlesian ships around them. The nevermores and the griffons tried to close in on the pods, drawn by the emotions of the people inside, but the Atlesian fighters came to their defence, fighting in close around the escape pods even as the pod pilots tried to angle their vessels — not an easy task; they weren't designed to do much more than fall safely — towards the Atlesian lines.

The other set of objects were missiles, streaking out from the battered flanks of the Courageous to slam into the dragon's back. Explosions rippled up and down the black skin of the grimm, but it took no notice, it didn't even cry out in pain, it certainly didn't relinquish its grip on the stricken cruiser.

"Come on, what are you doing?" Rainbow growled. "Abandon ship with everyone else."

"They're being brave," Blake murmured. "As courageous as the ship itself."

"A kind of courage," Rainbow muttered.

The commanding officer had done the right thing ordering most of the surviving hands to abandon ship; they ought to have followed the order themselves with whoever was left aboard with them. This kind of 'fight her till she sinks' stuff would play well on the news, but come daybreak, Atlas would be down some experienced officers, and for what? The dragon didn't seem to feel it.

"May the Lady reward their valour," Ciel whispered. "And plead for them by God's throne."

Rainbow's brow furrowed.

The dragon roared, swinging its tail — how strong was that thing? — and the Courageous with it, wielding the ship like a mace aimed at the Vigilant.

The Vigilant danced away — Major Rouge was proving she deserved to put those stripes on her ship — slipping and sliding through the air, howitzers blazing as one-oh-five shells spat from amidships to hit the dragon square in the side. The dragon howled again, irritated maybe, hurt they dared to hope, while Rainbow and the others below could see the Courageous starting to come apart under the strain of being used like this. The hull was buckling; the whole ship was starting to bend in places.

The dragon turned, twisting in the air, firing its energy breath towards the Vigilant even as it swung the Courageous towards the Daring on its other side. The Vigilant kept moving, avoiding the deadly yellow beam just as it had avoided the Courageous.

"That's a lucky ship," Neon said as the Vigilant skated sideways, letting the dragon's breath fly upwards past the ship's flank, not even scorching the paintwork. And all the while, she kept on firing at the dragon, with every weapon that would hit it — but not hit the Courageous.

"No," Ciel said. "That is a well-handled ship."

The Daring was not so fortunate; the dragon raised the buckling hull of the Courageous over its deck and brought it down hard upon the Daring like a hammer. Rainbow and the others could hear the crack that echoed down to them; they could hear the groan of metal as clearly as they could see the nose of the Daring being forced downwards the ground.

The Daring tried to back off, unable to fire its lasers that were now angled beneath the dragon. The dragon didn't let up; it raised the Courageous and brought it down again upon the Daring. There was another, even larger crack, and shards of metal flew from the hull of the Courageous to fall down on the ground beneath — soldiers took cover from it — while the bow of the Daring sagged forwards; Rainbow couldn't see a fracture on the bow, but that sudden sag of half the ship certainly suggested there had been one.

The Vigilant and Endurance both brought their lasers to bear on the dragon, trying to distract it from the Daring, while Reliant worked its way around Endurance to try and find a firing angle. The dragon bore their fire, though it had seemed to hurt it earlier, now it endured it, drawing back the Courageous for another swing at Daring.

Ardent charged in. The ship with the long lance on its prow fired its lasers as it came on, but that mattered less than the way that it sailed forward, full speed, slamming into the flank of the dragon and driving its ram deep into the grimm's black flesh.

A cheer rang out from the Atlesian line, the soldiers of the Fourth and Third shouting to the moon to will the brave ship on. Rainbow cheered as well, and Blake clasped her hands together; even Ciel smiled in glee as the dragon was knocked sideways, driven through by the relentless force of the Ardent's assault.

"That's it!" Neon shouted. "Stick it to it!"

The dragon howled, its body writhing on the stick as the Ardent pushed it on. Its tail bent, still gripping the Courageous in its claws — until it flicked the ship away, throwing it towards the Endurance.

The Endurance accelerated, showing the speed that had won it that Mistralian race as it shot forwards, and a bit downwards, letting the Courageous fly over it, showering fragments of metal from its crumbling frame down on the other cruiser before landing with a crash and an almighty explosion somewhere on the right of the battlefield.

The Ardent kept firing, as all the Atlesian ships that could bring their cannons to bear kept firing, but the Ardent also slowed, and Rainbow thought — or guessed — that she had put her engines into reverse to extricate herself out of the dragon.

The dragon was having none of it. Its body turned, twisted, shifted around the spike in its side until it could dig its immense claws — and the claws on its tail too — into the Ardent, puncturing the armour plating, holding her fast.

The dragon laid its long neck down upon the top deck, its head so close to the bridge that the dragon must have been able to see the crew within.

The dragon roared straight at the bridge, black globs of grimm goo flying from its mouth.

Then it unleashed its breath.

The back half of the Ardent was gone in an instant; the yellow beam of the dragon's attack was so bright that the Atlesian cruiser disappeared — and then, when the lighting of the beam faded, it was still nowhere to be seen. The dragon's breath had consumed it, bridge and engines and all, leaving only the narrow front half of the cruiser left, buried in the dragon by the spiked prow.

The dragon grunted with effort as it bent legs and tail to the task of extricating the forward half of the Ardent out of itself. Its tail did most of the work — it was the most manoeuvrable of its limbs — and it slowly but surely wrenched the forward half of the cruiser out of its black flesh.

The dragon stared down at the remains of the Ardent before flinging it away, not even throwing it at anything, just throwing it, getting rid of it like junk for the trashcan.

The dragon spread its wings out on either side as it let out an almighty roar, louder than any roar that it had made before, when it hadn't exactly been quiet. It was a roar that split the sky, a roar that made the ground shake.

A roar that made Rainbow's knees tremble.

She had told Blake that the dragon would be taken down. She had told her — she had believed — that Atlesian airpower, their military might and technological prowess, would triumph.

She had told Blake, and she had believed, that no matter how strong this grimm might be, Atlas would come out on top.

And now…

Now, two cruisers had been lost, a third was heavily damaged, and although the dragon had been wounded, that wound didn't seem to be slowing it down at all. What chance the rapidly diminishing number of cruisers would finish it off before they were wiped out?

Rainbow's breathing sounded heavy in her own ears. She glanced sideways and saw the soldiers around them with their eyes turned upwards, saw Blake and Neon, Sun and Ciel, all staring at the battle in the skies. Blake's mouth hung open; Sun's tail hung limp; Ciel's mouth was moving as she spoke under her breath, perhaps a prayer; Neon's knuckles were white. The soldiers looked, as Rainbow felt, nervous, uncertain; their guardian angels were being torn to pieces before their very eyes; how else were they supposed to feel?

The words of Colonel Harper rang hollowly in Rainbow's ears, and the Colonel offered no new words to replace them, nothing to chase away the shock felt by the huntresses or by the soldiers of the Fourth and Third.

The troops were silent; the grimm were silent too, their own faces turned upwards to watch the battle just as the Atlesians watched.

Even the sounds of the guns from behind, as the Spider droids continued to pound away, seemed lesser now, muffled, dimmed by the sheer presence of the dragon up in the sky.

The Daring tried to limp away; its back was broken, the bow listing alarmingly; it was a minor miracle — or a testament to the ship's engineering — that she was holding together at all and hadn't split in two already. Either way, she had no further part to play in this fight — unless the dragon wanted to notch up another kill.

Certainly, its gaze was turned upon the wounded Daring as she moved slowly — achingly slowly — back towards Vale, showing her engines to the dragon as she went.

The Reliant and Endurance closed ranks between the Daring and the dragon. They didn't fire but held their ground before the monstrous grimm, as if to say that if it wanted her, then it would have to get through them first.

After what she had seen, Rainbow feared that would be all too easy.

"'Play up, play up, and play the game,'" Ciel whispered.

The dragon laughed. Rather than roar or bellow or shriek, it laughed, a sound somehow harder on the ears than any louder noise it could have made, a harsh sound like a saw blade running back and forth against wood.

What was it laughing at? At the idea that Reliant and Endurance could stop it? At the folly of their even trying? Or was it laughing at Atlas, at their pride, at their superiority, at the fact that they had thought they could stand against a grimm of such ferocious might?

The dragon laughed, and suddenly, all the grimm were laughing too, laughing in front of the line where they waited, laughing on the flank where they began to creep back out of the darkness towards the Third's position, all of them laughing at the Atlesians who thought the battle had been turning their way.

Laughing at Rainbow Dash, who had believed it.

The dragon laughed, and then that harsh sawing laugh abruptly stopped, replaced with a high pitched keening shriek that made Rainbow and many others cry out in pain, that made her horse ears wilt into her hair — Blake's cat ears did the same — and made Rainbow want to cover her human ears with both hands. A shriek that made men and women drop their weapons and fall to their knees.

A shriek that carried within it all the sounds of the fall of Atlas and the death of her friends.

She could see … Rainbow could see the city plunging from the sky, hear the cries of the people dwelling in the city as it fell, and in the crying, she could make out those she knew: Rarity, Pinkie, Twilight.

She could see it, hear it, both so clearly, as clear as if it was happening right now, and all contained within the shrieking of the dragon.

The dragon stopped shrieking. The fall of Atlas immediately loomed less clear in Rainbow's mind — it was no longer right before her eyes — but it lingered just behind them, hiding in the shadows of her mind with hands outstretched.

The dragon roared, and all the grimm roared, all the grimm of both hordes, the one before and the one to the side, they all roared and bellowed and trumpeted as fiercely — no, more fiercely, much more fiercely — as they had done when the battle first started.

The dragon roared and dived. It was pursued by fire from the Vigilant, Endurance, and Reliant, but it ignored them all, tucking in its dark red wings to fall down through the night, right down on the Atlas line, only to open its wings again to slow itself and pull up just before it hit the deck.

It could ignore the remaining cruisers in part because all the other flying grimm still in the air had thrown themselves upon the airships with renewed vigour, all of them seeming to try and get at the Daring as it made its slow retreat away from danger. Endurance and Reliant, even the Vigilant, and all the fighters of the two squadrons were preoccupied trying to save the Daring and had no capacity left for the troops on the ground.

They were alone as the dragon dropped towards them.

Fire lanced up from the ground towards it: rifle fire, rockets, light support weapons. Ciel fired Distant Thunder, Rainbow blazed away with Brutal Honesty and Plain Awesome, Blake snapped shot after shot with Gambol Shroud, even Sun was firing the shotguns in his nunchucks, though the range was very long. Flynt was playing his trumpet from where he stood nearly right underneath the dragon's approach, Starlight fired with Equaliser, nobody but nobody was just standing there while the dragon fell on them. But so much fire was inaccurate, so many hands were shaking, Rainbow knew that her aim felt a little screwed up right now; falling Atlas kept reaching out and leaping in front of her eyes and throwing her off.

She knew she couldn't be the only one.

And even where the shots were well aimed, even where they hit the target, the dragon just took it all, soaking up bullets and rockets and whatever else as it dropped on them.

The dragon pulled up, claws outstretched at the ends of its massive legs. Those claws dug into the earth, tearing through the Atlesian rampart, knocking soldiers and huntsmen aside, seizing some of them in its grip.

Seizing Flynt, and Kobalt and Ivori too, all the members of Team FNKI except for Neon, who was with them instead of with her teammates.

"Flynt!" Neon shrieked, as high pitched and piercingly as the dragon had shrieked before. She leapt down off the rampart, not bothering with the steps, a rainbow streaking out behind her as she rushed at the dragon, firing her pistol at it as she charged.

The dragon ignored her. It swept onwards, dragging its claws through the dirt like the blades of a plough. The line of the Third was scattered as soldiers and students leapt out the way — Rainbow saw Trixie get clear, her moon and star cape flying behind her — or else got snatched up in the claws of the grimm. Paladins that stood their ground, or that were too slow to do anything else, were knocked aside with huge dents or gashes in their armour, arms or legs ripped off.

The dragon rose up off the ground, and as it rose, droplets of black, oily goo dripped from its jaws to land on the ground beneath it. The dragon took off, turning away from the Third Battalion and sweeping above the hordes of grimm. For a short while, those caught up in its claws could be heard crying out, could just about be seen thrashing and writhing in its grip.

Then there was no more sound, and no more sight of them.

There was no sign of Flynt, or the rest of Team FNKI. There was only Neon, standing alone on the battlefield, screaming wordlessly in rage and frustration.

Rainbow could not help, but … Rainbow could not help. What Neon was going through was a wound worse than any that could be taken on the body. It was not something that could be lessened, not by her, maybe not even by Ciel. It was something that—

It was something that would have to be dealt with later, because those puddles of black ooze that had fallen from the dragon like water dripping off a wet person come in out the rain were now beginning to turn into grimm. The pools were drying up, shrinking on the ground, and as they shrank, out of the black rose young beowolves and boarbatusks.

And from the corner of the line where the dragon had shattered the rampart with its claws, the grimm roared as they began to push through.

"Hold them back!" Colonel Harper shouted, her voice ringing out like a trumpet call. "Stand fast, Fourth Battalion! Stand fast and close the gap on them! Concentrate fire on the right flank. Through the wire!"

"Through the what?" Blake asked.

Rainbow didn't explain; there wasn't time. Colonel Harper's voice had rallied her, at least in part; falling Atlas still lingered in her mind, but the Colonel had pushed it back, or pushed Atlas up into the air once more, or … something like that. She couldn't say to herself that she wasn't rattled by the dragon's shriek, that it hadn't tangled her nerves, but all the same, she could still do this.

She took a deep breath.

"Ciel," she said. "Provide covering fire from here; try to intercept the grimm before they reach the breach in the rampart."

"Understood."

"Blake, Sun, you're with me," Rainbow said. "We're going to close that gap." And with those words, she led the way, leaping off the rampart as Neon had done before her and racing for the gap the dragon had gouged in the earthwork.

The soldiers could fire down into that gap, but to stand in front of it, or even in it, and stop the grimm getting through was a job for huntresses.

A boarbatusk, one of the ones sprung out of the pools of ooze dripped by the dragon — and just what was up with that? — tried to intercept her, charging across the open ground, grunting and squealing. It threw itself at her, white tusks gleaming in the moonlight. Rainbow grabbed one tusk as it charged and used it like gym bars, pulling herself up and over and onto the boarbatusk's back, where a single shot from Undying Loyalty to the back of its head was enough to finish it off.

Others of the newly spawned grimm were attacking the Third Battalion in the rear, at the same time as the grimm horde in front renewed its attack as though Rainbow and the rest had never killed the Apex Alpha.

That was … not good, but it was something that Trixie and Starlight would have to worry about for now; Rainbow's focus was on the grimm getting through the rampart. Troops were shooting down at them from above, unable to miss the tightly packed grimm, and Rainbow could hear the roar of Distant Thunder as it spoke, but the grimm were so many, tightly pressed together as they fought to get through the breach, that there was no way they could all be shot down from above.

Rainbow charged towards the gap in the Atlesian defences, clobbering a beowolf that tried to get in her way with Undying Loyalty. She charged, with a rainbow trailing after her like Pyrrha's sash, right into the black mass of teeth and claws that poured over the torn down mound of earth.

Rainbow fired her shotgun right into the face of a … there were so many grimm, and they were all so close together that it was hard to make out what was what, or else her head still wasn't quite right after the dragon, and she couldn't think that clearly. But did she really need to know what they were, the nature of the things she was killing? They were grimm, white in bone and tooth and black in a lot of other places, and Rainbow killed them all as best she could. She fired her shotgun into their faces, she hit them with the butt of her gun or with her fists, she kicked them. She didn't use aura booms, because this would be an awful place to run out of aura, and she was losing it anyway, losing it by nicks and scratches as the claws of the grimm reached out for her.

They nipped and nicked at her aura, but Rainbow fought on anyway. She emptied her shotgun and drew her machine pistols; she emptied those too and used her fists and feet, she stood her ground as the grimm pressed forward. Blake was beside her, using fire clones to blow up two or three grimm at a time, or ice clones to freeze them in place for Rainbow or Sun — he'd got there, too, his red staff spinning in his hands — to take care of; or sometimes she used earth clones to give herself or one of the others a temporary respite to hide behind and reload.

And when she wasn't using clones, she hacked away at the grimm with sword and cleaver. Her paleness under the moonlight shone like a deadly star amongst the dark night of the charging grimm.

And the soldiers fired down on the grimm from up above, and from the flank, the guns of the Fourth Battalion turned right to rake the grimm as they swarmed for the breach.

Then the dragon roared as it swooped down again, not heading for the same place, no, it was heading towards a different point on the line of the Fourth — towards Ciel's point, where she still stood and provided fire support with Distant Thunder.

The dragon opened its mouth and unleashed its breath, a beam of yellow slicing down to carve a corridor through the earth as the dragon flew towards the Atlesian position.

"Ciel, move!" Rainbow shouted, uncertain if Ciel could hear her over the roaring of all the grimm. "Blake, I'll be back." She started to move, to go to Ciel, but a beowolf grabbed her from behind and tried to pull her over. Rainbow flipped the young beowolf over her shoulder and crushed its skull with one foot, but a creep popped up from under the ground to wrap its jaws around her ankle.

Rainbow killed that too and started to move — she'd be back, she'd be back soon — but she'd lost time, and the dragon was moving so fast, and its energy attack swept on ahead of it, so bright it was blinding.

Rainbow couldn't see Ciel as the blazing yellow beam struck the barricade.

The burning light was all she could see.

XxXxX​

The dragon was coming right at her, with a mouth large enough to swallow the world.

Ciel swung the muzzle of Distant Thunder around, her rifle roaring as she hit the dragon square in the forehead — to no effect.

The dragon came on regardless, unstoppable, inexorable, and like a vanguard came before it, that wall of deadly energy, that power that had torn through gallant ships and would do the same to her, no doubt, if she did not move.

Move, move, she needed to move. She needed to get away, to escape the oncoming storm, to escape the deadly energy. She needed to get off this rampart, she needed to move aside, she needed to flee, she needed to move.

She needed to move, but she could not. The dragon was looking right at her. As it flew forwards, as it sent its wall of energy running before it, as it swept towards the Atlesian line it loomed right at her. Its red eyes burned like dying stars, smouldering.

There were snakes, Ciel understood, that could hypnotise small birds, paralyse them so they could not resist the serpent's devouring maw.

Now, she was the small bird, and felt smaller still as the great maw rushed towards her.

And the beam that would devour her first rushed ever swifter.

It was coming closer and closer, and Ciel could not move. It was as the classic nightmare, the monster approaching, the legs frozen, the mouth stopped up. She could not move. None of the soldiers with her on the rampart could move. They were all transfixed, all standing there frozen as the grimm came on.

The light of the beam was so bright, so bright that it eventually even blocked out the sight of the dragon and its eyes; Ciel's legs and arms and will were all her own again — but it was too late; the beam was too close and moved too quickly.

There was a flash of rainbow light beside her, and Ciel felt herself violently shoved aside, thrown off the rampart, barely able to keep her grip on Distant Thunder.

Ciel looked up as she fell. Neon. Neon had pushed her out of the way and now.

The whole world seemed to slow as Neon hung, suspended, one arm outstretched to push Ciel aside, mouth open to frame a word Ciel could not hear, poised to leap aside but not quite away as the beam swept on.

The yellow beam consumed everything.

Ciel was blinded by the light. She lost sight of Neon and the rampart and everything else. She could see nothing; all of Remnant was lost to her save only the light of the dragon's breath.

"NEON!" Ciel screamed as she fell. She did not know what she hoped for in reply save something, anything, some answer that would show Neon was still here.

But there was no answer, none at all, no recourse for Ciel but to pray that Neon yet lived, because if not…

If not…

If not, and for Ciel's own sake…

Ciel hit the ground, landing heavily upon her back with a hard thump and a dent in her aura. The golden beam passed on, ravaging more of the ground, carving a trench through it, before the dragon ceased its onslaught and once more turned upwards and a way.

A wide breach had been blasted in the Atlesian rampart. The earthwork was gone, vanished utterly, and so, too, the soldiers who had stood upon it to repel the grimm. This breach was wider — far wider — than the breach the dragon had made with its claws, and flatter too.

Neon lay on the edge of the trench the dragon's beam had cut into the ground.

Ciel gasped in relief as she leapt to her feet. She rushed to Neon's side — only for that gasp of relief to be followed by a gasp of horror as she saw what remained of her friend.

Neon Katt's right arm and leg were gone, not even stumps remaining. Half her tail had been burned away, and half her body, her entire right side, had burn marks upon it, from her chin down to her thigh, blackened and charred.

And for my sake…

And yet, she lived. Her sea green eyes flickered, before coming to rest on Ciel.

"Neon!" Ciel managed to both cry and whisper the name, her voice trembling. She knelt down beside her, turning her head away for a moment to look for aid.

"Medic!" She yelled. "Medic!"

No one came. No help came. This part of the battlefield was empty, save for them; soldiers, Paladins, mortars, all gone, and only the two of them remaining.

Neon tried to speak, a cracking, wheezing sound emerging from her throat.

"Don't speak," Ciel told her. "Don't try to speak; save your strength. Medic! I need help over here!"

The only answer was the roaring of the grimm as they swarmed through the breach, through the gate the dragon had made for them. Beowolves and ursai and boarbatusks led the way, while the goliaths made the earth tremble as they came up behind.

Ciel bared her teeth in a snarl as savage as on any beowolf's maw as she picked up Distant Thunder and planted herself between Neon and the grimm.

"Stay away from her, you bastards!" Ciel shouted as she levelled her rifle.

She fired from the hip. At this range and with the grimm in front of her numerous, she could hardly miss. An ursa was blown away by her first shot. She worked the bolt, ejecting the cartridge and chambering a new round in a single fluid motion. She fired again. Bolt, aim. Fire. Bolt, aim. Fire.

The bolt locked, her magazine was out of rounds, the chamber was empty. No time to reload; the grimm were almost upon her. Ciel reached for the pistol she kept holstered underneath her skirt, but she had given that to Neon.

Ciel reflexively, instinctually, slung Distant Thunder across her back rather than simply dropping it; it was too long for her to wield reversed as a club.

She raised her fists instead, one foot stepping back as she shifted into a defensive stance.

I would rather stand before the Lady side by side with you than live a hundred years or more hereafter, Ciel thought.

The lead beowolf pounced upon her, claws outstretched.

There was another blurring flash of rainbow light as Rainbow Dash punched the beowolf in the face hard enough to shatter its skull.

She landed, poised on one toe, blasting a boarbatusk with her shotgun even as she kicked another away with her free foot.

She spared Ciel the briefest glance. "Get her to the aid station!"

"But," Ciel said. "To move her without—"

"There is no possible way you could make things worse," Rainbow snapped. "Now pick her up already! That's an order!"

Ciel did not disobey orders. She left Rainbow to fend off the grimm while she returned to Neon's side.

She still lived, God be praised, she still looked up at Ciel as Ciel knelt beside her and scooped her up in her arms. She felt heavier than she looked, heavier than Ciel had expected, but it was a burden that she was equal to, climbing to her feet and turning in the direction of the station.

Behind her, she could hear Rainbow's shotgun bellowing in counterpoint to the roaring of the grimm.

As she ran, trying not to jostle Neon too much, Ciel could hear not only Rainbow's shotgun, but gunshots in general coming from her left, from the right flank, where the Third Battalion was.

Of course she would hear gunshots from there, as well as behind. The grimm were attacking there too. God had laughed at their efforts to disorder the grimm there.

God had laughed at many of their efforts. Ciel hoped and prayed that, with the aid and imprecations of the Lady, He would like kindly upon every valiant son and daughter of Atlas slain this fight; she hoped that almost as much as she hoped that Neon would be granted a reprieve from judgement tonight and many years hereafter. But she feared that it would not be so on the basis of this reversal that had suddenly been visited upon them. Rather, it seemed that they were being punished for their hubris, brought low with dolorous blows to teach them wisdom and humility.

I will learn any lesson, my gracious lady, Ciel thought. I will learn any lesson, do any penance, render any service, but please, please, if there is mercy in you or love for men, let Neon be spared.

Her answer was a beowolf coming at her from the side. It was young, very young, practically devoid of armour; it must have sprung from a puddle of that black oily substance that dripped from the dragon as it passed by. Yet it had claws and teeth, and both were sharp, and Neon's aura was broken, and Ciel was encumbered.

As the beowolf sprang at her, Ciel was at a loss to do more than turn her back and shield Neon with her body.

She waited for the blow, for the claws to rake her aura, but they did not. The blow never came. Instead, the beowolf let out a startled yelp, and Ciel looked over her shoulder in time to see the beowolf, Blake's hook buried in its back, yanked off its feet and pulled towards a waiting Blake, who cut it in half with a swing of her cleaver.

Ciel did not thank her, though she deserved more than thanks; Neon had no time for it. Ciel left Blake behind as she had left Rainbow Dash behind, scrambling up the trail of lights with gunfire from behind and the side ringing in her ears. Up ahead, the Spider droids were continuing to fire, but their shells sounded as if they were landing closer now.

A squad of infantry ran past her, jostling her and Neon as they ran. They seemed disarrayed, panicked. Ciel could only hope it did not spread.

A Spider droid headed the other way, its gun barrels raised and its fists at the ready. The situation must have been desperate to bring the artillery in up close like that. But then, that was no especial news to Ciel, not anymore.

The aid station was up ahead; Ciel quickened her pace, hoping Neon would forgive, or at least endure, the rocky ride in service of a little haste.

She reached the white tents and burst inside. There were plenty of soldiers there already; the tents were about half full, with cases roaming across the full spectrum of severity.

But she couldn't see anyone as badly in need as Neon.

"Help!" She gasped. "For God's sake, someone help her."

"Let me see," said a sandy-haired man in a white coat as he strode forwards, in between a row of beds on wheels occupied and empty. As he got closer, his grey eyes widened. "What happened to her?"

"The dragon," Ciel said. "The dragon's breath."

"Put her down here," the man — the doctor, she supposed — gestured to a nearby bed. Ciel followed him and laid Neon down as gently as she could.

Neon was still looking at her, but her expression was … Ciel found it hard to make out if Neon had an expression, much less what it was.

She half-wished that Neon would not look at her, save that by looking, she showed Ciel that she was still alive.

How she must hate Ciel. Every misery and suffering in her life would be Ciel's doing.

If she had only let me die…

"We need to make sure she's stable," the doctor said. "Then get her to a medical frigate ASAP."

"You need to get everyone here airborne ASAP, Doc," Rainbow said.

She stood in the mouth of the tent, reloading her shotgun without looking at it.

Ciel swallowed. So, it had become so bad, so swiftly?

"What's going on?" demanded the doctor.

"The line is coming apart, sir," Rainbow said. "The grimm are through, and I don't think the Third is gonna hold either. You need to get everyone out of here."

"Some of these patients still aren't stable enough to be moved," the doctor protested.

"I'm afraid the grimm won't wait for you," Rainbow replied. "But I'll give you as long as I can."

"And I, too," Ciel said.

Rainbow's eyes flickered towards her. "Are you sure that you don't—?"

"This is what I can do for Neon," Ciel said. To the doctor she said, "Take care of her, please; she is … her worth is beyond diamonds or dust."

The doctor nodded. His face gave no clue to his thoughts, nor did he venture to enlighten her.

So Ciel followed Rainbow out the white medical tent. Once outside, she unslung Distant Thunder from over her shoulder and finally slammed a fresh magazine into the mag well.

Blake was waiting for them outside, and Sun Wukong too.

And also waiting outside was the sight of the battlefield on which she had turned her back to carry Neon to medical aid — though scarcely, as it turned out, to safety.

The state of the fighting that confronted her eyes … Ciel might not have said that the defence was coming apart, but word choice aside, it seemed hard to dispute Rainbow's grim prognosis.

The grimm were pouring through both breaches in the earthwork, more through the gap made by the beam, but that made by claws was not short of use either. Atlesian troops had abandoned or were abandoning the earthworks and the walls, ceding the Green Line to the grimm before they were flanked, encircled, and overrun. Ciel could see some efforts to establish a new line, but without the defences, that task was immediately made more difficult.

Even as she thought that, Ciel witnessed a Paladin try to intercept a goliath as it stormed forward through the ranks of the grimm. The Paladin fired its cannons and a barrage of mini missiles, all to no avail; the goliath came forward regardless. The Paladin's guns receded as it raised its fists.

The machine crashed with the monster, grabbing hold of its tusks, pushing against its might. For a moment, all things seemed to hang in the balance. Then the goliath flicked its head and pulled the Paladin off its feet before dumping it down onto the ground.

The goliath trumpeted loudly as it reared up, then brought its forefeet slamming down upon the Paladin's cockpit, crushing it beneath its monstrous bulk.

And on the flank, the Third Battalion was falling back in fits and starts, squads retreating in a haphazard fashion, some of them firing as they backed away from the grimm, others turning their backs upon their monstrous foes as they retreated, others looking at times to be in grave danger of being surrounded and having to fight their way out by the skin of their teeth.

Still others yet were less fortunate, falling beneath the tide of darkness and disappearing from sight.

It was a view as grim as the grimm themselves, a situation black as the oily coats of the dark creatures, as dark as the pools from which mote such monsters rose to take the Atlesians in the rear. The only chink of light in all of this was that there was no more sign of the dragon.

And yet, for all that the situation was grim and the battle had turned against them, nevertheless, Ciel felt … it was hard to put a word to how she felt. Balanced? Invigorated? Certain. Certain was the word; she felt certain.

Neon's life was in the hands of the doctors and nurses within the tent, and on the medical frigate when she made it there, but it was also in her hands. If she and her friends could defend this station until the wounded could be evacuated, then Neon would live. If not, then she would die.

It was as simple as that, and in that simplicity, all fear, all doubt, all nerves, and all confusion were banished. They had been slain as surely as if the dragon had turned its breath upon them.

Neon would not die; she would not allow it.

She knelt down and raised Distant Thunder to her shoulder.

"'Play up,'" Blake murmured. "'Play up, and play the game.'"

"Huh?" asked Sun.

"'The sand of the desert is sodden red,'" Ciel said softly. "'Red with the blood of the square that broke. The machine gun jammed and the colonel dead, and the battalion blinded with dust and smoke. The river of death has brimmed its banks, and Atlas is far, and honour a name. But the voice of a schoolchild rallies the ranks: play up, play up, and play the game.'"

"What's a schoolkid doing on a battlefield?" asked Sun.

Rainbow snorted. "They're not a … never mind; Blake can read you the whole thing later. The point is … the point is, like Blake said, there's nothing else for it." She paused. "This time … this time, there's no choice. We can't go anywhere until the medical evac arrives, so … let's play."

Ciel closed one eye and took aim at an ursa major.

Distant Thunder roared.

XxXxX​

Trixie thrust out her wand, a gust of fire leaping from the tip to incinerate a couple of boarbatusks that had been coming their way. The pig-like grimm squealed as the fires devoured them.

Behind her, Starlight fired five successive shots with Equaliser into the chest of an alpha beowolf before clubbing it across the face with the barrel to finish it off.

Sunburst levelled his staff, and a lot of the rest of the pack was blown away, lifted up by a gust of wind and thrown into the darkness somewhere. Somewhere else. Somewhere that was not where Team TTSS — and Maud — were.

One of the remaining beowolves in the pack jumped on Trixie from behind, making her stumble forwards — for a moment, before she felt the grimm pulled off her.

Maud held the struggling beowolf by its neck. Her face was impassive as she stoved its face in with a single punch.

"Thanks," Trixie said, straightening her hat back on her head. She looked around. The Third was falling back around them, in an order that … well, it varied a little bit, but it was all moving backwards, and for good reason. The grimm had gotten tired of their little passive moment and gotten right back to it — in fact, they seemed even fiercer than before, and even more coordinated. And it didn't help that there were grimm behind them, either from those pools of wherever they'd come from or from the fact that they'd gotten through the front line.

And it certainly didn't help that the dragon had ripped through their line just a while ago and taken a chunk out of it. Trixie had been lucky not to get snatched up in its claws.

A lot of others hadn't been so lucky. Team FNKI…

It was not a good situation, was the point, and if the Third was falling back — which it was — then it was no mystery as to why.

It was a little bit of a mystery where they were gonna fall back to, but that was something for someone higher up than Trixie to decide.

What she knew was that if her team didn't move, they were going to be cut off.

"Back," she said. "We need to move back."

It was just like the fairgrounds again, back and back, falling back in front of too many grimm to fight off, trying to do damage without being able to see it making any difference. Only, they didn't even have any fireworks this time, or any place like a carousel to fall back to, just … back.

But back they went, because it was a whole lot better than the alternative.

Back, with Starlight firing, with Sunburst wearing out his wind dust crystals as fast as Trixie went through phials of any kind of dust, with Maud hitting any grimm that got too close, with Rarity using her semblance to try and shield them from grimm teeth and claws. Back and back and always back, while the grimm moved always forward.

"Tsunami! Sabre!" Colonel Harper's voice cut through the battlefield, rising above the gunfire and the roars of the grimm. "Team Tsunami and Team Sabre, to me."

Trixie looked around. Colonel Harper stood at her modest command post, the command post at which she had greeted them all when the battle began. She was joined by a couple of officers, by the sergeant major who had led them down to the command post in the first place tonight, by the colonel's Mistralian orderly with their scimitar drawn, and by the two Knights with the colours set in their backs.

Colonel Harper held a pistol in one hand, but her sword was in its sheath, half covered by her blue cloak. The battle had not reached the command post — there were still troops and androids fighting in front of her — but Trixie didn't know how long it would stay that way.

"Come on," Trixie said, leading her team out of the line and towards the command post whilst it remained behind the line. She could see Team SABR doing the same, breaking contact and falling back as instructed.

The two teams reached the command post at more or less the same time, standing on either side of Colonel Harper and her party.

Colonel Harper looked from one team to the other. Her face was grave, as well it might be in the circumstances. There were lines beneath her eyes that hadn't been there when the battle began.

But despite that, when she spoke, her voice was as clear as a bell.

"Well fought, ladies and gentlemen," she said. "Now it's time to save the colours."

Nobody replied. To talk about saving the colours was to say that the battle was lost.

It was hard to argue with that.

Colonel Harper went on, "Lulamoon, Silverband, carry them to safety. The … honour of the Fourth is in your hands."

It was a great honour, to be chosen for this, for Colonel Harper to pick her, to ask for Trixie above all others.

It was a great honour, yet Trixie did not feel great and powerful in this moment, far from it. If she had been so great and powerful, the colours would not have needed saving, by her or anyone else.

And so her voice was small and grave as she said, "I will, ma'am."

"And I, too," Sabine added. "They won't get them."

Colonel Harper nodded. "Good girls," she said. "The colours!"

The faces of the two androids nodded forwards, the light disappearing from their black faceplates. The two standards on their metal poles rose up out of the backs of the Knights.

Colonel Harper reached out with her free hand and grabbed the Atlesian Colour by its pole, lifting it the rest of the way up out of the android's back. She rested the butt of the staff upon the ground even as she offered the flag to Trixie.

A breath of wind caught the standard and made the flag dance for a second. The Atlesian emblem rippled across the silk.

Trixie reached out with one hand, closing her fingers around the pole. She felt a charge run through her, an electric feeling, the responsibility of the moment shocking her so she would not forget.

Starlight's Equaliser transformed into its polearm mode with a series of clicks and snaps.

Colonel Harper nodded, then turned away, and did the same with the Battalion Colour, pulling it from its Knight and handing it to Sabine. Sabine looked a little nervous as she took it from the Colonel's hand.

Colonel Harper stepped back, eyes flickering between the two of them. "Tell…" she started, then trailed off. She shook her head. "Go," she commanded. "And God go with you."

"And the God of Animals with you, ma'am," Sabine murmured.

Colonel Harper didn't reply. She turned away and drew her sword with a flourish as she faced the grimm.

Trixie and Sabine locked eyes. They didn't speak. There wasn't much to say.

They both ran, with their teams around them. Team TTSS ran straight, while Team SABR veered off to the right more. That was smart; travelling separately, there was more chance at least one colour would make it, even if they were both ultimately heading the same way, towards Vale.

Trixie looked back, over her shoulder, to where Colonel Harper still stood. She was still, standing there with her sword in one hand and her pistol in the other, with her attendants around her as the grimm closed in.

Her cape fluttered gently behind her in the night breeze.

And the Atlesian flag streamed out as it was carried backwards in retreat.

 

[ScipioSmith]

Ozpin's Stand

​

"Wh-what is that?" Lyra cried as the monster rose into the night sky, rising so high that it was silhouetted against the broken moon above.

Lyra's voice shook. Amber could understand why. She was shaking a little herself. Such a grimm, such an enormous grimm, even at this vast distance, it looked large and loomed large; how much larger must it look and loom up close? So large, how terrible must it be to be so large?

She was not a foe to Salem; indeed, upon this night, she was Salem's best and dearest friend; nothing could be achieved without her, all of this night's efforts and struggles and attacks were pointless without her. Amber's life was more valuable to Salem than many hordes of grimm. But did the grimm know that? Did this grimm know that? Or did it know only that she had killed grimm earlier this night and that she was of a size to be swallowed whole?

Oh, that the night were passed. Oh, that the dawn would come and shine upon my liberty.

Oh, that the dawn would come and find Pyrrha and Sunset and all others safe and well and free to rest as I am free to go.

Oh, that I did not look upon this monster in the sky and tremble so.

Oh, that I had nothing to fear.

Perhaps she had nothing to fear. But she was afraid nonetheless; though this great grimm was far away, the very sight of it put the fear in her.

Its size, its sudden arrival, and the very fact that she could not answer Lyra's question, that she had no idea where to begin with an answer, they all combined to make her fear. What was this thing? Where had it come from? Had its arrival been anticipated, planned for? Or had it simply been drawn to the battle by the fear and the pain and the confusion and was no part of Salem's plans or her intent? What would it do, now that it was here?

Amber turned her scarred face away from the monster, even as the monstrous grimm became harder to see, descending from before the moon into the black of night surrounding it; the stars did not give off such light, the creature's presence could only be discerned by the way that it blocked out the stars here and there, or by the distant view of red wings, a flash of white moving in ways that no star would.

Amber turned away and turned her gaze on her companions, wondering if they might have some answer that eluded her. Dove did not, obviously; he was as in the dark as Lyra was on this, although he stood before her with one hand upon the hilt of his sword as though he would protect her from so large a grimm. Sweet Dove, brave Dove, her Dove still, in spite of everything that she had done — and even done to him.

But even those that Amber might have thought — or hoped — to have more answers looked dumbstruck by the sight they had beheld. Bon Bon looked shocked, amazed, and so, too, did Lightning Dust, who had joined them in the dark after their flight from Beacon. Amber didn't know her, but Lyra and Dove both seemed to recognise her, and Lyra hadn't liked Lightning Dust's presence, for all that Bon Bon had been able to calm her down.

Lightning Dust looked awed, mouth gaping open, while Tempest's eyes were wide.

Wide yet flickering back and forth, alight with calculation; they narrowed from their previous width as Tempest smiled out of one corner of her mouth.

"What is it?" she repeated. "This is our moment. We must return to Beacon at once."

Dove looked at her. "Now?"

"Yes, now!" Tempest declared. "When else, when better?"

"I don't know," Amber admitted. "But … but that thing—"

"Is no threat to us," Tempest assured her. "Rather, it is our fortune, our opportunity."

"'Opportunity'?" Lyra repeated. "What are you talking about?"

"The line will surely shatter now," Tempest said. Contempt filled her voice as she went on, "The General, the gallant ships, the thin white line, the sorority of sisters shoulder to shoulder, they will not stand against this power, not now. Soon, Beacon will be cut off from Vale by land, and the skies will no longer be under the rule of Atlas. Even if they find out where we are, no one will be able to reach us. On the other hand, if we stay here, then we risk being caught up in the retreat of the Atlesian troops and in the pursuit by the grimm."

"What if you're wrong?" Lyra asked. "Rainbow, Trixie—"

"Your faith in your acquaintances is touching," Tempest said, without any sincerity. "But misplaced. They've done well so far, I grant, but they cannot hold back this storm, not anymore."

"Say you're right," Lyra said. "Then what? If the grimm break through, then what's going to happen? To Beacon, to Rainbow and the others, to all the people who live outside the Red Line?"

"Councillor Emerald has already ordered an evacuation," Dove reminded her. "Everyone will be safe behind the walls by now, and … if the line is broken, then I suppose that everyone, Jaune and Pyrrha and the others, will retreat behind the wall as well and make their stand there." He frowned. "But you make a good point about Beacon; if it is cut off from Vale by the grimm, what then? What happens to the school itself, what happens to everyone sheltering at Benni Havens'?"

"We'll warn them," Amber said. "We'll go back to Beacon, and we'll…" She stopped for a moment, bowing her head as she thought. What could they say? What could they say that would explain their return and persuade Benni to leave her restaurant?

"We will tell her…" she began, hoping to invite suggestions from Dove or Lyra — or possibly from the others, if need be.

"We'll tell her that the grimm are going to break through the line and sweep across the country to reach Vale," Bon Bon said.

"Except that hasn't happened yet," Dove pointed out. "What if she doesn't believe it, what if she has faith in Pyrrha and the others to hold the line?"

"Then that's her problem," Lightning said bluntly. "You've gone to the trouble of warning them what's about to happen; what happens to them after that is their own business. If you tell someone there's going to be an avalanche but they keep climbing the mountain regardless, then it's not on you if they get buried in the snow."

"That depends on why they don't believe you," Amber murmured. "I, we … this isn't about easing our consciences; this is about persuading Benni and the others to get to safety. We will tell them that we've been told that the line cannot hold. We've been told by … Pyrrha, Rainbow Dash, Professor Goodwitch, somebody, someone has told us that the line is about to break, and so we've volunteered to go back to Beacon, which is safe from the grimm now, safer than where we were is about to be, and then warn everyone still there that they need to get to Vale while there's still time."

There was a moment of pause.

"Will it be believed?" Tempest asked.

"Benni has no reason not to believe us," Bon Bon pointed out.

"She trusts us," said Lyra softly.

Tempest shrugged. "You know best on that front, I suppose, but won't she then expect us all to leave with her and her guests?"

"Not if we need to spread word through the rest of Beacon first," Dove pointed out. "We can then go on and…" He paused. "What will happen to Beacon?"

"I don't know," said Tempest.

"That's a first," muttered Lyra. "You seem to know an awful lot that you don't say until you have to."

Tempest rolled her eyes. "I understand that this sequence of revelations must be quite confusing for you," she said, "and if you're finding it a little too confusing, then please, feel free to leave at any time."

"I'd like Lyra to stay," Amber said firmly. "For as long as she wishes."

Tempest ignored that, instead saying, "But I assure you, I assure you all, I don't know what will become of Beacon—"

"Because you don't actually know anything, do you?" Lightning Dust asked, a smirk on her face. "You're just guessing all this, trying to pretend like you know when you're as in the dark as any of us."

"There's no need to look so smug about that, considering that we're all in the same boat," Tempest replied sharply. She paused for a few seconds. She scowled, but said, "It's true, I don't know for certain that that grimm we've all just seen, the one that made the ground shake, the one that obliterated a mountain will break the lines. Perhaps Lyra is right, and good old Rainbow Dash and beautiful Blake, the Warrior Princess with the untarnished face and soft, pale hands, everyone's new darling, will slay the monster just like that!" She snapped her fingers. "Hooray for Atlas!" She snorted. "But I doubt it."

"Why do you hate them so much?" asked Lyra.

Tempest blinked. Her face twisted, contorted, she even momentarily bared her teeth as her opal eyes blazed and her fists clenched. Then she took a deep breath, and then another, her chest rose and fell. She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened her eyes and spoke again, her voice was calmer than it had been.

"Everything that I have said," she declared. "Everything that I've laid out for you has been my honest opinion on what will happen. I believe that the grimm, led by their new friend, will break through the line and sweep towards Vale."

"And what then?" Lyra asked. "If they can break through one line, then what's to stop them breaching the wall and getting into Vale itself?"

"Because…" Bon Bon began, then stopped. "Because of all the defences on the wall, it's much stronger than the Green Line is."

Amber didn't know if Bon Bon was telling the truth, but it didn't sound entirely convincing.

But she hoped it was true, nonetheless.

"Lyra … we cannot save Vale," she said, putting one hand upon her shoulder. "Only our friends can do that."

"But," Lyra murmured. "Your power?"

"I'm not strong enough," Amber said softly. "Even … even if I was brave enough to fight that monster, which I'm not, I'd be too terrified to even try to … but even if I were braver, even if were as brave as Pyrrha, or Sunset, I still wouldn't be to defeat a monster like that and protect Vale all by myself. All that we can do is what we're going to do, which is make sure that Benni and the others get out of Beacon before it's too late. We'll even…" She glanced at Dove. "We'll even make sure that Ruby hasn't been left behind, and isn't." She wasn't entirely sure how they would do that, since if Ruby had been left behind — not that she'd blame Pyrrha and the others if they had decided to leave her — then the only thing to do would be to take her with them.

Amber wasn't keen on that idea to say the least, but Ruby would still be asleep, so they wouldn't actually have to suffer her company before they left her … somewhere. They could stop at a little village on the way and dump Ruby safely in the care of a town doctor or something before continuing on their way. When Ruby woke up, she would be none the wiser as to where Amber had gone.

And Dove looked happy about it. He smiled approvingly. It would be worth it, to have that smile bestowed upon her.

Besides, Ruby had probably not been left behind; they just had to make sure of the fact.

Lyra hesitated a moment, but nodded. "Once people get out … I suppose it doesn't really matter what happens to Beacon afterwards, does it?"

"No," said Amber. "It's just bricks and mortar, after all."

She pulled the other girl into a one-armed embrace. "I'm glad you're here, Lyra," she whispered. "You're … you're my conscience, you and Dove. You … you make me a better person when I'm with you."

Amber felt Lyra's arms wrap around her in turn.

"Don't worry about it," Lyra said. "I know that it might seem like I complain or ask questions, but … I'm here for you."

"I know," Amber said softly, as she let her arm fall away from Lyra. "Now … now we should go, while we still have time."

XxXxX​

Ozpin starred as the grimm rose into the sky. Such a creature…

And it was coming from the southeast. From Mountain Glenn, or nearby.

To think that such a thing had been there all along.

He should have known, perhaps. There had always been legends, rumours of a great beast slumbering beneath the mountain; that was why it was called the Dragon's Fang, after all. The Dragon's Fang, 'neath which the dragon slept, and would awaken in some dark, dread hour. He had not been blind to such rumours; he was not a man to dismiss fairytales, not a man to scoff at stories, not a man to disdain all things that could not be explained through rational thought and reason, no. He had put fairy tales onto the Beacon curriculum, though many thought him eccentric for it, because he believed in the power of fairy tales to reveal truth, both spiritual truths about the human heart but also, in some cases, very real truths about the world.

Contrary to what some might believe, he had no desire to keep an iron chest of secrecy around all the mysteries of Remnant. He would not tell all openly, would not bare his soul and all his mysteries, but if people were able to work out the truth by themselves, then he had no objection.

A part of him would be quite pleased by it.

In any case, he had not been deaf to the stories of dragons slumbering beneath the Dragon's Fang. He had not been sure if it had been a grimm or else a more magical dragon — such creatures had been known in ancient times; he wondered if they, too, had come from Equestria, but then, how had they done so without exchanging their forms for a more human appearance? — but he had heard that there was something under the mountain, and though there had been few enough people living there in those days, he had not ignored the reports. He had sent — or rather, he had inveigled upon the king of the time to send — Percy, one of the most promising young knights at court, to investigate and, if necessary, slay the creature that she found there. Olivia had argued that Percy was too young to be sent on such an errand, but he had been certain that Percy would perform adequately.

He had seen great things in her, and though Percy had proven to be flawed, as most people were, he still had a soft spot for her in his thoughts. She had possessed a passionate heart, though at times, that heart had led her astray.

Percy had set off on her errand, and a little while later, she had returned, grim-faced, to tell him that there was, indeed, a grimm beneath the mountain, but that she had been unable to kill it. It had been too big; she had stabbed the beast with her sword, driving the blade deep into the black flesh, but the grimm had not even stirred from slumber. The grimm was simply too large, and if it had any vulnerable spots, then the cave that led into the mountain did not allow Percy to reach them. He had thanked her, assured her that she had nothing to be ashamed of, and then sent Isolde, the new Fall Maiden after Nimue's death, to deal with it.

Isolde had assured him that it was done.

That now appeared to have been a lie on her part, or at least — assuming the best possible interpretation, that she had blocked the cave or done something to make it harder for the grimm to escape — an exaggeration.

That was the best interpretation. The worst … the worst was enough to make him wonder if Amber really was the first Maiden to fall to Salem's influence. Isolde had not been the Fall Maiden for very long; she had drowned herself in a barrel of water, then been revived by Owain, but before she had been revived, she had lost the magic, which had passed to Princess Ceinwyn, the Star of Vale. Curious behaviour, perhaps, to take such a risk, but he had accepted that she had not wanted the burden of possessing such power and was, honestly, a little impressed that she had found a way of giving them away to one more worthy of them.

Now, he wondered if she had perhaps found betrayal as unpalatable as continued service.

In any case, not knowing or suspecting any of this at the time, he had accepted Isolde's lie — or her exaggeration — and from then on, he had turned a deaf ear to tales of monsters beneath the Dragon's Fang, believing them to be the echoes of a danger long dealt with.

When all the while, it had remained waiting. It had not emerged to lay waste to Mountain Glenn, it had not opened its eyes afterwards to join the horde that swept up from the southeast towards Vale, it had not shattered the mountain and risen into the sky at any point, though there had been many points when Vale had seemed in desperate straits. Why, if this grimm had shown itself during the Great War … it scarcely bore thinking about.

But it showed itself now, now of all times. If that did not say something about the importance that Salem placed upon this battle, then…

It was not an encouraging thought.

Ozpin found, seeing the creature for himself even at this great distance between them, he could well understand how and why Percy had found herself unable to strike it down with sword or lance. It was too great, by far too great.

Now, he could only hope that James' northern lances of fire and light would prove more suited to the great task which now confronted them.

Ozpin tightened his grip upon his cane. Amber would surely come now, very soon. If this was not what she had been waiting for, she and Salem's henchman ranged about her, then he did not know why she delayed. Whatever came next, doubtless all the strength of Atlas and all the huntsmen of Beacon, Haven, and Atlas combined would be bent towards the defeat of that dragon and resisting a grimm attack that would doubtless have fresh heart put into it. He believed that they would triumph over it; as their headmaster, he could hardly not believe in them in the face of such a battle, but the fact remained that they would be kept busy by that, for a while at least.

Too busy to return to Beacon and defend the Relic, should Amber come to take it now.

It would be the perfect time for her to return and take the prize that Salem no doubt demanded of her.

At least, it would have been, had Ozpin himself not been there.

Though he was all alone, though he had sent all aid to fight in fields before the walls of Vale, nevertheless, he was — himself, alone — adequate to the task of keeping the Relic of Choice safe.

If Amber came, hoping to find all eyes turned away, all hands occupied, then she would find him waiting for her.

And he would…

And he would…

The cane trembled in Ozpin's hand.

XxXxX​

Amber, her friends, and her associates crept back up the road towards Beacon. It was the same road that they had departed down only a little earlier that night, when the battle at Beacon had been in full swing.

Now, with the battle at Beacon over and the battle in front of Vale raging fiercely, Amber and the others returned the way that they had come, moving along the Vale road in the dead of night, while far off to the south and east…

Tempest had said that this new grimm, that looked so large and terrible, would break the line. Lyra thought that it might not, though that seemed mainly to be hope speaking rather than anything, while Tempest spoke with cold, cruel logic.

Nevertheless, Amber would prefer Lyra to be right, but if Tempest was correct…

Whichever of them was right, everyone would be in grave danger. They had always been in grave danger, but the danger seemed graver now, thanks to that new grimm that had joined the fray.

But she had spoke true to Lyra; she couldn't save Vale, she couldn't protect her friends. Even if she had been a braver or a stronger person, the Fall Maiden wasn't supposed to be a hero, not anymore. The Fall Maiden was supposed to hide, to keep her magic and her secrets safe.

The Fall Maiden was supposed to be a coward; that was what Ozpin wanted of her.

An obedient coward who would stay in her cage and never have the courage to leave it.

Well, I have, Ozpin! I have left, and you will never see me again.

And nobody will stop me.

She was so close now. So close to freedom that she could taste it. Once they had the Relic of Choice, then she would give it to Tempest, to take wherever she would, however she would; Amber wasn't interested in helping her deliver it to Salem, Tempest could work out how to do that by herself, and if someone as smug as Tempest Shadow hadn't thought that far, then, as Lightning Dust had said, it wasn't Amber's fault if she got buried in an avalanche. Amber would give her the Relic, and that would be her job done; it would be for Tempest — and Bon Bon and Lightning Dust — to get it to Salem or fight each other over who got the credit or whatever else they wished to do with the crown once they possessed it. Amber would give them the crown, and then she and Dove and Lyra would be free to get out of here, and go whither they would afterwards.

Amber had already given thought to the first stage of their journey: they would escape via the cliffs, into the Emerald Forest; yes, there were grimm there, or there might still be, but she thought that there were less grimm now than there had been since the attack on Beacon, and the three of them should be able to make it out okay. After all, it seemed from the stories she had heard of their time at school that Ozpin sent students into the Emerald Forest on their very first day, and while he was a wicked man, that maybe also meant it wasn't actually that dangerous.

That was why Amber was trusting more in the forest than in the grimm within it to cover their tracks and prevent pursuit.

Afterwards, once they were out of the forest, they would go due east, towards the mountains. Ozpin would probably expect them to go north, where Dove and Amber had lived when they were children, so heading east towards the mountains would throw his hunters off the scent; at least, Amber hoped it would. They could find some quiet place to live for a little while, in the foothills of the mountains, until … until it was safe to come down.

Or maybe they would like it there, in the foothills, in some quiet village, like the place they had grown up except with different trees. Somewhere with romantic ruins, where they could have a cottage by a stream, with space for a garden.

Pyrrha's Mistralian war poems were, in Amber's opinion, simply awful, bloodthirsty killers massacring one another over their hurt feelings; but the Mistralian pastoral poetry that Amber had found in one of her other books was so much better that it verged on the sublime. They knew what the good life was, those Mistralian poets.

That was all that Amber wanted for herself: the good life, the simple life, the pastoral life with Dove — and with Lyra too, if she wished to stay with them that far along the road. They would live like shepherd lads and lasses, with the joy of one another's company to succour them.

But that was all for the future. Everything after they escaped from the Emerald Forest, everything beyond was a few steps distant; for now, for the immediate term, getting the Relic, giving it away, and then getting themselves away, those were the immediate concerns.

And warning Benni Havens about the possibly imminent collapse of the defences beyond Vale.

Amber was glad, genuinely glad, that Lyra had reminded her of that. Benni had seemed like a nice woman when Amber had met her, but more than that, she had been a good friend to Dove, and to Lyra too, but especially to Dove. If making sure that Benni wasn't caught by surprise and killed by a sudden surge of grimm flooding up the road from Vale — the same road that they were now on — to storm her restaurant was the price to repay that debt then Amber would pay it gladly.

They were almost there now. Whilst Amber had been thinking, contemplating, dreaming of the future, they had walked along the road and almost reached Benni Havens'. The lights were still on within the cabin; even the sign was still lit up. Everything looked so calm. Probably the fact that the battle was over here had helped with that.

Amber didn't know how the battle had ended; she and the others had been far away from Beacon already when they had seen from afar a bright light, a brilliant light blossoming outwards to consume Beacon, and then … then after that, they had seen the airships leaving, flying away from Beacon and from Vale to where the grimm lurked. Amber didn't know what had happened; Tempest couldn't even begin to guess what had happened. But it seemed that the battle at Beacon was over, and now that they were back at Beacon, it was quiet, with none of the sounds of fighting at a distance that had beat upon their backs as they departed.

It was all quiet, and only the lights of Benni Havens' nearby gave any sign — beyond the evidence of their own eyes seeing the airships flying off — that the battle of Beacon had not ended with the grimm killing everyone and destroying everything. It was quiet enough for a dead place, but the lights of Benni Havens' told the truth, that the battle had been won, but all those who had won the battle had been called away to fight more battles, battles without end, battles that could never end because they fought a foe that did not rest.

"You should hide somewhere off the road," Bon Bon told Lightning Dust. "Benni might recognise you."

She didn't clarify who or what Benni might recognise Lightning Dust as, but from this and from the way that Lyra had reacted to her appearance, Amber could surmise that Lightning Dust was known as some sort of criminal or enemy, as someone that they should not be seen associating with.

Lightning Dust took the suggestion with equanimity, nodding her head as she slunk off; her black bodysuit, although marred with pipes and with a bulky backpack of some kind that bubbled and fizzed as liquid dust moved along the pipes, nevertheless blended in with the darkness and made her quickly disappear into the night.

That done, Amber led the way in the other direction, towards Benni Havens' itself, towards the light that emerged out of the diner. The others, all those who had been there with her when they had passed this way in the other direction, followed after her.

"Benni?" Lyra called out. "Benni, are you still in there?"

There was a moment's pause as the five of them stood outside the diner, before the door opened and Benni stepped out of the restaurant and took a step down the path towards them.

"Lyra?" She said. "Dove, Bon Bon … I know I told you to come back, but I didn't expect you to come back tonight."

"We … volunteered," Amber said. "To come back with a message, from…" She hesitated; they had never actually decided who, precisely, the message that they had been sent to deliver was from. "From Pyrrha. Pyrrha asked us to deliver a message."

"It might have come from someone higher up," Bon Bon added. "From General Ironwood or someone, just that Pyrrha was the one who was asked to pass it on to us."

"The grimm…" Dove began. "Ms Havens—"

"The defences aren't going to hold," Bon Bon said bluntly. "Any moment now, the grimm are going to batter through the lines, and there'll be no sealing the breach, no stopping them until they get to the walls of Vale. I'm sorry, but there isn't time to sugarcoat it, because Beacon isn't protected by the walls of Vale; it's outside of them, which means that when the grimm break through, and when everyone falls back, Beacon is going to be cut off, and there will be grimm heading this way up that road. You need to leave, Benni, while you still can."

Benni stared at them all. The shotgun in her hands fell to her side, clutched in only her artificial hand now. "The grimm are gonna break through?" she asked.

"That's the fear, yes," Dove murmured.

"And they're gonna come up here, and this time, there'll be no one to stop them because everyone is down there, is that what you're saying?" said Benni.

"I'm afraid so," replied Amber.

"About the long and short of it," Tempest added.

Benni hesitated. "I haven't been ordered to evacuate," she said. "I guess they forgot I exist."

"Are there still people in your restaurant?" asked Amber.

Benni shook her head. "Once the grimm were taken care of here, they were evacuated up to the Amity Arena. It's starting to look like maybe we should have joined them when we had the chance. But we didn't, so it's just me and Drake here now." She paused, turning around and looking back at the restaurant that bore her name. "Seventeen years of my life in this place," she muttered.

"It might be here when you get back," Dove said. "And even if it isn't, so long as you're alive, you can rebuild, right?"

Benni looked at him, a fond smile upon her face. "Maybe, yeah," she said. "You say this is happening now?"

"A … a new grimm has joined the battle," Dove said. "It's big, and it looks very dangerous. It might be too much for them."

Benni winced. "Are they … do you know if … is anyone … come on, are you gonna make me say it?"

"Everyone's fine, for now," Amber said, although she didn't know that for sure. She hoped that it was so, just as she hoped that it would give Benni some comfort to hear that it was so.

"'For now,'" Benni repeated. She cursed under her breath, and then cursed again more loudly so that everyone could hear it. "Okay," she said. "We'll go. I don't want to, but you're right; so long as we're alive, we can rebuild, reopen, and I can't ask Drake to stay here when…" She turned around and screamed at the restaurant. "Drake! Get in the van; we're leaving!"

A man's voice, a little husky, emerged from out of the diner. "What?"

"I said GET IN THE VAN, WE'RE LEAVING!"

"'Leaving'?"

"Yes, leaving, go!" Benni yelled. She turned to Amber and the others. "You kids want a ride down to Vale?"

"That's very kind of you, but we can't," Amber said. "We said that we'd look around the school and make sure there was no one else left behind."

"That's a brave thing to volunteer for, considering how afraid you were earlier," Benni pointed out.

"Not really," Amber replied. "We're not going to be here when the grimm arrive."

"Are you sure about that?" asked Benni. "How are you getting out?"

"If we're too late to take the road, then I'll call in an Atlesian airship," Tempest said quickly.

Benni nodded slowly. "I hope you don't rely on them only to get left hanging. Finish up quick and follow us down the road while you can; it's safer that way than trusting Atlas. No offence."

Tempest snorted. "None taken."

"We'll be as fast as we can," Dove promised.

"None of us wants to stay here any longer than we have to," added Amber.

"Smart of you," Benni said. She sighed. "If this place does get ripped apart by grimm, I expect you all to be my guests for the big reopening. And that's as much as I'll say about that, because it sounds like there isn't time for a long goodbye. Do what you need to do, do it fast, and I'll see you all on the other side."

Amber didn't reply. They would never see her again, after all, and though that was a pity, it was inevitable.

So long as it was the result of distance, not death.

"Be well," she whispered. "Take care."

Benni turned away and swiftly disappeared back into the restaurant.

"Who's Drake?" Amber asked.

"That's Benni's husband," Lyra explained. "You never see him because he does all the cooking."

"Ah, I see," Amber murmured, although she was a little surprised to discover that Benni didn't cook; mind you, it would explain how she spent so much time out in the restaurant.

It did not take very long at all before they heard the growling of an engine and a white van tore around the side of the diner from the back, tires cutting into the grass and churning up the earth, rear-end shooting behind it as it turned violently. It drove past Amber and the others, and Amber had the briefest impression of Benni waving at them out of the window before the van was racing down the road towards Vale as though a horde of grimm were behind it.

Or about to be in front of it, as the case maybe.

"Now that that little bit of civic responsibility has been taken care of," Tempest said, "perhaps now you'll show us the way to the Vault?"

Lightning Dust emerged out of the darkness. "It's all clear now, right?"

"Yes, she's gone," Tempest said. "We—"

"Are going, yes!" Amber cried. "I will show you, as I said I would; I will get it for you as I said I would!" And then I'll never have to have anything to do with you ever again. "Follow me."

"What about Ruby?" reminded Dove.

Tempest's hands twitched, forming the shapes of claws. "Oh, for the—"

"Yes, of course, Ruby," Amber said, although she felt a little of Tempest's irritation herself. But she had promised Dove that they would make sure she was alright, and it would make him happy, and it shouldn't even take too long.

They crept their way to the dormitory building; there were neither grimm nor fellow students to avoid, but Amber still wanted to keep the green lights of the Emerald Tower at a distance, far away. She wasn't sure if Ozpin had gone down to fight or was still here, but it would be just like him to sit in his tower, watching from afar while everyone else risked their lives in his war. That was how he had used her, after all, why should he use Pyrrha, or Sunset or Jaune or any of them any better?

No, she was sure that he would still be in his tower, and that was why she wanted to avoid it, lest his eyes fall upon her — upon them. If it did … her semblance would probably be their only chance; if she could put him to sleep before he could attack them, then all would be well, but if not, if they were drawn into a fight, then … then he would surely kill them all. Even her, especially her, he would not hesitate to kill her so that the Fall Maiden powers would pass to another, and his Relic, his Crown of Choice, would be safe from danger.

If they could get in and out while staying out of Ozpin's way, so much the better.

And so, Amber led them to the dormitory building via a route that took them nowhere near the tower, but they came to the courtyard nonetheless. The statue that had dominated the courtyard had been smashed, there were only stumps of the huntsmen and huntress remaining, only the beowolf statue remained intact. The building itself, behind the courtyard and the shattered statue, was more damaged than it had been when Amber and the others had departed. There were holes in the walls, the courtyard stone was scored by claw marks, the ruin of Beacon bore testimony to the ferocity of the battle for it.

But it was as they had said on the way: it was all just brick and stone, easily rebuilt, meaning nothing, signifying nothing. Nothing that had been done, nothing that the grimm had destroyed could not be undone.

In a year's time, it would be as if all this had never happened.

They entered the dorm itself, where Amber tried to ignore the bloodstains on the carpet as they climbed the stairs towards Team SAPR's dorm room. They found the room — the room that she had called home this past while — a mess since they had left it, the door smashed, the picture of the team at Benni Havens' smashed and trampled underfoot. Books had been torn to shreds, the pages scattered all over the floor, including, by the looks of it, Dove's book, The Song of Olivia, that he had given to Ruby.

The dorm room was a ruin, but there was no sign of Ruby herself. The closet, where they had left her, had been destroyed, a large hole burned in the wall, Pyrrha's dresses — those that survived — singed and burned, but no sign of Ruby.

Dove stepped towards the hole. "That … does that look like Penny's laser to you?"

"It could be," Amber said. "If it is, that means that they would have come here and found Ruby."

And they might have guessed that I'm the one who put her to sleep.

Never mind. I suppose it was all always going to come out eventually.

"Either way," Tempest said, "she isn't here."

Dove didn't reply to that. He ran one hand around the charred edges of the hole in the wall. "If they did find Ruby, then … they must have found her in some trouble for Penny to fire like this."

"I suppose so," Amber agreed. "But it means they saved her, regardless."

"Yes," Dove murmured. "At least I hope it does, and they would have gotten her away to somewhere safe."

"I hope that too," Amber said quietly.

Dove sighed. "I suppose there's no way to know for sure. We just have to hope, but I'm glad that we didn't find her still here." He paused before he turned back towards Amber. "Alright, let's get what we came here for."

"Finally!" said Tempest.

They descended the stairs quickly, feet pounding on the steps as they emerged out into the courtyard — and found Professor Ozpin waiting for them.

Amber's whole body went cold. She felt her grip upon her staff loosen, and the weapon almost dropped to the floor.

Ozpin.

He did not look ready to strike. The tip of his cane was on the ground, held in one hand; the other hand was clasped behind his back. His head was a little bowed — until he raised it and met her eyes, fixing them with his own dark eyes as they stared at her above his miniature spectacles.

He made no other movements, but Amber felt as though he were coiled like a spring, or like a snake, ready to strike at any moment.

Dove, brave Dove, sweet Dove, foolish Dove, half-stepped in front of her, one hand upon the hilt of his sword for all the good that it would do. Ozpin seemed to ignore him, looking right through him, just as he ignored everyone else with her as well.

"Amber," he said, in a voice that was hard to read, having no approval or disapproval in it.

Amber's heart was beating rapidly in her chest, she could feel it. Her hand shook as she held it out by her side and sent forth little golden motes of light to drift out from her hand towards Ozpin.

Ozpin tapped his cane upon the ground, and a shield of green light appeared around him for a moment, a bubble completely encasing him, separating him from the world. It disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"I'm afraid that your semblance doesn't work as quickly as it would need to, given that I'm expecting it," Ozpin said calmly. "I did warn you that, against an opponent who was alert and ready to fight, it was unlikely to serve you well."

"Warn me," Amber repeated. "Warn me? That was the warning that you gave me, that was what you warned me of, my semblance?! All the things you could have warned me of, you included, and you warned me about that? How was that warning supposed to keep me safe? How was that warning supposed to protect me?"

Ozpin didn't reply, he couldn't, he had no answer. All justice was on her side; he could not bring himself to deny a word of what she had said. Instead, he said, "When Miss Fall told me … when she told me that she had surmised what you had done, that you would give the Relic up to Salem in exchange for your freedom … I did not want to believe it. I did not believe it; I insisted that it could not be so. Even when Miss Nikos, Miss Polendina, and Mister Arc brought the unconscious Miss Rose to me and told me that, in their opinion, you had used your semblance to put her to sleep and thus evade her watch, I did not wish to think it could be true. I did not want to think that … do you hate me, Amber?"

"Should I not?" demanded Amber. "Have I not cause? Have you not done things to me deserving to be hated? Have you not caused me to suffer, to fear, to endure wounds and agonies? Did you not cause me to be scarred, to be separated from Dove, to be hunted? Why should you be surprised that I hate you? What have you done but give me cause to hate you?"

"And Miss Nikos?" asked Ozpin. "Miss Shimmer? Mister Arc? Miss Rose? Have they all given you cause to hate them also?"

"This has nothing to do with them," Amber replied.

"You have betrayed their trust," Ozpin said.

"And you'll use them up until they're dead; don't get all high and mighty with me!" Amber shrieked. She took a deep but ragged breath. "They're flowers to you, to be replaced with new ones when they start to wilt. I … I've lied to them, I admit it, but only because … I haven't hurt them, attacked them, killed them; I haven't done anything to them; I've only lied to them. And only because I had to, because otherwise … because they're loyal to you, even after everything you've done, everything you'll do, everything you are. I've only done what my own safety demanded."

"Your own safety," Ozpin repeated. "And for your safety, you are willing to risk … I confess I am disappointed in you."

"I don't care," Amber declared. "I don't care what you think of me."

Ozpin glanced away from Amber, towards Tempest and Bon Bon. "I've sometimes found myself curious," he said calmly. "How does one find oneself in Salem's service?"

"Who is Salem?" Lyra asked. "Bon Bon, who are they talking about?"

"I…" Bon Bon began, but fell silent.

"You don't know either, Miss Bonaventure?" Ozpin asked. "That is part of an answer at least. Miss Heartstrings, Mister Bronzewing, I take it that Amber and her friends have not been entirely honest with you?"

"Don't listen to him, Lyra; he's trying to trick you," Bon Bon said.

"On the contrary, Miss Bonaventure, I am trying to enlighten Miss Heartstrings with facts you seem to have kept to yourself — or had kept from you. You see, Miss Heartstrings, Miss Bonaventure, Miss Shadow, and Miss Dust serve a malevolent creature called Salem, who seeks to—"

"That's enough!" Bon Bon shouted, her armour creaking and clanking as she charged forward, swinging her morningstar towards Ozpin.

Ozpin shimmered in place, three Ozpins appearing before their eyes as the spiked ball of Bon Bon's morningstar flew harmlessly past his face. Ozpin brought his hand out from behind his back to grab the chain, clasping tight hold of it. He hauled back on it, spinning rapidly in place. Bon Bon was yanked off her feet with a wordless cry as Ozpin spun her around and slammed her into the cliff-like plinth that remained of the courtyard statue.

Now it was the plinth's turn to shatter in part as Bon Bon slammed into it, stone fragments flung left and right, a cloud of dust rising as half the plinth disappeared in a moment, transformed into a heap of rubble that half-buried Bon Bon underneath it.

"Bon Bon!" Lyra cried. Her fingers shook as she tried to pluck at the strings of her harp, the first few notes rising haltingly, awkwardly into the air.

Ozpin was on her in a flash; one moment, he was standing in front of them all, the next moment, he was right in front of Lyra, hitting her with his stick over and over and over again, his hand and cane moving so rapidly that Amber's eyes couldn't follow his movements, it was all a blur, he was a blur, and his blows almost flashed as he struck Lyra again and again and again and all too fast for any aid to reach her. Lyra cried out, her harp dropped from her hands, her arms spread out on either side of her as she was lifted up into the air by the sheer force of the repetitive blows that deluged her like a sudden rain descending from the heavens.

Dove fired two shots from his gun sword, but Ozpin deflected both of them with his cane without appearing to even for a second break the stride of his attack on Lyra, such was his speed. Dove charged at him, but he was too slow, so slow by comparison to Ozpin, it was like a snail trying to outrace a horse.

Lyra's aura broke, a pale green light rippling up and down her body, and instantly, Ozpin ceased his assault, stepping back from her, letting her fall to the ground with a thump and a cry of pain before he turned his attention on Dove.

Dove slashed at Ozpin with his sword, Ozpin parried with his cane, then reversed it to hit Dove in the face with the metal handle. Dove recoiled, and Ozpin hit him twice more, a second time in the face and then in the belly, making him double over. Ozpin's cane lashed out to strike Dove in the leg next, in the back of the knee, forcing him to the ground before Ozpin hit—

The blow didn't land, because Amber had stepped between Dove and Ozpin, parrying his stroke with Sapphire, her simple wooden staff barring the path of his ornate cane.

"No more!" Amber cried. "I won't let you hurt anyone else."

Ozpin's face was impassive. He took half a step backwards, raising his cane for another strike.

Amber attacked, hurling herself upon him like the storm upon the mountain. Sapphire was a blur in her hand as she whirled the wood before her, tracing elaborate patterns through the air as she struck at Ozpin from the left, the right, above, below. She called upon her magic, she let the corona of the Fall Maiden burn in her eye as fire burned at the tip of her staff.

Ozpin fell back before her, parrying her strokes, cane and staff striking with thwack after resounding thwack. Ozpin fell back, and Amber pursued him, her movements a blur, just as his had been a moment before when he'd attacked poor Lyra. But she wasn't Lyra, she was faster, stronger, she was the Fall Maiden, and she would break through any moment now. She could do this. She would do this. She'd already fought the grimm, she'd killed the grimm, she'd been the Fall Maiden — not the coward that Ozpin wanted, the real Fall Maidens as they were of old — once tonight already; she could fight, she could kill, she could bring him down; after all, he'd taught her—

Everything she knew.

Not, as it turned out, everything he knew.

Ozpin parried and parried, he took her blows upon his cane, always blocking, always halting her attacks. The flames from the tip of her staff troubled him not, they never came near him, he shimmered away, he became a blur, and the flames passed by him without harming him. Amber gritted her teeth, growling in anger like the grimm she had laid low as she twirled in place and unleashed a torrent of flame upon him out of her hand, but he conjured up a shield to surround him.

Amber spun her staff and drove it, tip first, like a spear towards the shield, concentrating some of her aura at the staff's end to penetrate Ozpin's shield like a lance.

The shield disappeared, but Ozpin moved so swiftly to parry her staff and counter, forcing Amber back before she was struck.

Amber unleashed fire again, a wave of flame to cover her retreat and give her time to recover. Maybe if Salem's agents were to help her in any way—

Ozpin conjured up another shield, but this time, the shield moved; it surrounded him as shield and man alike flew forward, passing through the flames to slam into Amber like a cannonball.

Amber was knocked backwards, off her feet. Ozpin's shield dissolved, and then he attacked her, striking her with his cane again and again, so swiftly that she couldn't respond, could barely think to respond.

She dropped to the ground, her aura flaring in pain. Ozpin stood over her, looming, menacing, staff raised above his head.

Amber let out a wordless whimper, a cry of fear and pain as she covered her face, her scarred face, with both hands, curling up into a ball.

Ozpin hesitated. He stood over her, his cane raised up, but he did not strike.

"Amber," he whispered.

A sob passed from Amber's lips. She waited for the blow to fall.

It did not.

Instead, the cane descended in Ozpin's hands, falling to his side.

"Amber," he repeated. A sigh escaped him. "All your failings as a Maiden," he said, "and as a daughter, are my failings as a teacher … and as a father. Amber, I am so sorry. Would there was any way that I could ask your forgiveness."

Amber's fingers twitched. She shifted her hand a little as she lay upon the cold, hard, battle-scarred ground, and once more, she used her semblance.

Once more, the golden motes of light began to rise from the palm of her hand, and this time, Ozpin did not shield himself. He did nothing as the golden lights rose in the air, surrounding him. He did nothing except let his eyes flicker and droop until his old bones collapsed to the ground beside Amber like a great old tree fallen by the storm.

Amber closed her eyes. "I forgive you," she whispered.

She rose onto her hands and knees. "Lyra?" she asked. "Dove?"

"I'm fine," Dove said. "My aura didn't break. I'm sorry I wasn't able to be more help."

"It's fine," Amber said. "It's fine, I … I'm sorry I couldn't protect you better."

"You did enough," Dove assured her. "You did more than enough. You won."

Amber got up. "Lyra?"

"I'm okay," Lyra groaned. "My aura's broken, but I'm not hurt. He didn't … he stopped. It was like he didn't want to hurt me, just break my aura."

"You were lucky," Tempest declared, stepping lightly across the courtyard to stand over the slumbering Ozpin.

"And you were absent," Amber pointed out.

"Everything moved so fast," Tempest murmured, without even looking in Amber's direction. She cocked her head to one side as she looked down at Ozpin.

"Behold the great Professor Ozpin," she said, "considered a hero by many." She knelt down astride him, and with one hand, she reached into a pouch at her belt and pulled out a blood red handkerchief.

With her other hand, she prised open Ozpin's mouth.

"What are you doing?" Amber demanded.

"What our safety demands," Tempest said as she stuffed the handkerchief down Ozpin's throat.

"No!" Lyra cried. "No, stop that, you'll kill him."

"Very astute of you," Tempest said.

"Stop it!" Lyra shouted, starting forwards toward Tempest and Ozpin, only to be stopped by Bon Bon, who extricated herself from the rubble of the statue in time to grab Lyra by the shoulders and hold her back.

"Let go of me!" Lyra demanded, trying and failing to wrestle free of Bon Bon's grip. "Bon Bon, what are you doing? Amber! Amber, you have to stop this!"

Amber didn't reply. She didn't say anything, she didn't do anything, she watched as Tempest rammed that handkerchief down Ozpin's throat, cutting off his air supply.

His aura was still intact, but that wouldn't matter if he couldn't breathe. It would kill him as surely as no aura and a knife through the heart.

He'll die.

He's going to die.

"Uncle Ozpin, Uncle Ozpin, did you bring me a present?"

"Tempest," Amber murmured. "There's no need for this."

"I disagree," Tempest said. "If he wakes up—"

"He isn't going to wake up."

"If he wakes up," Tempest repeated, "then we could be in for a lot of trouble. Best to make sure that doesn't happen."

"Tell me about Vale, Uncle Ozpin. Tell me everything!"

"Everything? We'll be here a long time if you expect me to tell you everything."

He filled my days with endless wonder.

"You will finally get to see Vale, Amber, if perhaps not in the circumstances that you or I wished … or expected."

"I'll have to leave here … forever?"

"I'm afraid so, my dear."

He took my childhood in his stride.

"What is this? What's happened to me? Why can I do these things, why do I dream these things? What am I?"

"You are the Fall Maiden, inheritor of a magic passed down from your mother and generations upon generations of exceptional women who have come before."

Then he was gone when autumn came.

Amber bit her lip. "Please," she whispered. "Please don't."

Tempest ignored her. She held the handkerchief down, blocking Ozpin's airway.

Amber could stop this. She could attack Tempest, she could burn the handkerchief, she could fling her enemies with her magic.

She could save Ozpin.

If she wished.

He made my life a hell.

He made me a weapon in his war.

He took my dreams from me, my life, my summer, my joy and laughter and happiness.

I loved him once.

He loved his Fall Maiden that was to come, but he never loved me.

Or did he?

If he loved me, then why did he treat me this way?

But I loved him once.

Once. But now…

"Amber?" Lyra repeated insistently. "Amber, are you just … are you just going to stand there?"

"I'm sorry," Amber whispered, to Ozpin more than to Lyra. "I'm sorry."

Lyra continued to protest, continued to struggle, while Amber watched, watched in silence and remembered, until Tempest put two fingers to Ozpin's neck and said, "It's done."

"'Done'?" Lyra said, pulling herself away from Bon Bon. "Done, you mean dead? Dead because you murdered him?"

"Calm down, Lyra," Bon Bon said.

"Don't tell me to calm down!" Lyra snapped. "You said that … first you said that we were going to rescue Amber from Ozpin, and then it turns out that we need to get this thing that we can give to someone else, and just who is Salem, huh? What is this thing, and what was Ozpin going to tell me that you had to attack him just to shut him up? And then … he was defenceless! He was asleep on the floor, and you murdered him. This … this isn't…" Lyra's breathing was shallow, and very rapid. "And this grimm attack too, it—"

"Lyra—"

"Don't 'Lyra' me; I don't know who you are!" Lyra shouted into Bon Bon's face. She took a step back. "I don't know you. Did I ever know you?"

"Lyra," Amber said softly. "Please, I know that this is difficult, and I would love to explain everything to you, but right now, we don't have time."

"But you have time for this?" Lyra asked. "Time to watch as … how could you? How could you just stand there and watch as … as that!"

"If you knew what he had done to me," Amber replied, "you wouldn't ask that."

Lyra stared at her, eyes wide. "I … I can't do this," she whispered. "I'm sorry, I wanted to help you, but this … it's too much. Dove, Dove, you have to see that this has gone too far, you have to."

"Ordinarily, I would," Dove allowed. "But Ozpin? Amber's right, if you knew what he had done—"

"It doesn't matter what he'd done; he was helpless on the floor!" Lyra shouted.

"He was our enemy," Tempest said, getting to her feet. "Is that a category that you'd like to put yourself in also?"

Amber said, "There's no need—"

"I won't let the success of this operation be put in jeopardy by someone finding their conscience," Tempest snapped. "If you're not with us, you're against us, and if you're against us—"

"You'll kill me too?" Lyra asked.

"No!" Bon Bon said. "No, that's not—"

"Yes," Tempest said calmly. "That's it exactly."

Lyra swallowed. She said nothing. She didn't do anything, and for a moment, Amber hoped that all would be well, that Lyra would calm down and that there would be time to properly explain things to her.

Then she turned and ran, heading off into the night, her gaudy cloak of many colours flapping behind her.

"Lyra!" Bon Bon shouted. She glanced at the others. "I'll—"

"You stay where you are!" Tempest snarled. "We have played nice for long enough. Lightning! Handle her!"

Lightning smirked. "With pleasure," she growled before she set off in pursuit.

"And you," Tempest added, rounding on Amber. "No more delays; take us to the Vault of the Fall Maiden, or your deal is done, and you can spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder; do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," Amber said, reminding herself that, very soon, this would all be over, and she would never have to deal with Tempest ever again. "Yes, I understand. Don't worry; I'll take you there now."

 

[ScipioSmith]

A Note on a Lyre

​

The mood among the senior officers had barely begun, and yet already, with few words exchanged, there was noticeable lack of the optimism that had characterised their last discussion, before the appearance of the dragon.

Understandable, in the circumstances.

Colonel Palmer was dead. He had died on the Ardent, killed along with the entire ship's company. Damn shame.

Every soldier lost tonight is a damn shame. Every single one.

With his death, command of the Third Squadron had passed to Major Aegean Pulleine, of the infantry element. Colonel Harper and Colonel Buller were both still living, thank the gods, and remained in command of their respective units.

"Report," Ironwood said.

"The grimm have renewed their advance and pushed us back from our initial defensive positions," Major Pulleine began, his voice was a little scratchy, mature, the voice of a somewhat old major, someone whose faunus nature had possibly held him back from promotion. "Some units are conducting a fighting retreat, others are … in retreat. I've ordered the colours brought forward to try and rally the troops and form a new line."

"You'll lose the standards if you bring them forward," Colonel Harper declared bluntly. "General, I've ordered mine to the rear, in the care of two huntresses, Lulamoon and Silverband."

"I see," Ironwood said, without comment.

Colonel Harper had made what she believed to be the best decision in the circumstances, and as he wasn't there and was reliant upon his officers to tell him what was going on right in front of them, he wasn't about to contradict her on such a minor question. Yes, if the battle had been going better, then he might have made some comment on the message sent by sending the colours to the rear to prevent their loss, but as anyone with a pair of eyes could see that the battle had taken a turn for the worse, he wasn't about to tell Harper that she'd made the wrong decision.

Mind you, he wasn't about to criticise Pulleine either. Attempting to rally on the colours was a risk to the standards, but it might also work, and if the battle was turned around because of it, no one would care that he had put the colours at risk.

Having said all of that, he couldn't deny that Harper had made good choices on who to entrust the colours to. Lulamoon and Silverband; they would keep them safe, if anyone could.

"Can I take it, Harper, that you don't think the situation can be salvaged?" he asked.

"Sir, the grimm have breached the line in two places; I've had to order a withdrawal off the ramparts to avoid elements being surrounded; the grimm are too close, the ground is too poor, and we no longer enjoy air superiority," Harper declared. "The Green Line is lost, and to be frank, I'm not sure how much longer I can protect Buller's flank."

"In which case, I will be attacked on both flanks, sir," Buller said. "We're still holding our ground to the front, for now — it helps that we still have all of our cruisers intact — but the grimm are starting to come out of the Emerald Forest, just as you feared they would."

"I see," Ironwood said. "In what strength?"

"I've had to move a second platoon to reinforce the first against them," Buller replied.

"Right," Ironwood replied. "Cunningham, what's the position of the dragon?" He wanted his command officers to be able to hear the response.

"It's circling over Wre-Wrec… over the large hill a few miles in front of the Green Line, sir," Cunningham replied. "It looks like it's headed for the right flank, going for the Beacon and Haven students."

And Penny. Ironwood's jaw tightened for a moment. "And Schnee, what's the status of the Zhenyuan?"

"Colonel Sky Beak has ordered the ship to take up position over the great gate and hold there," Winter answered him. "I didn't think it was my place to contradict those orders after the immediate crisis was resolved."

"No, that's fine," Ironwood said.

The Zhenyuan wasn't his ship, after all, and Winter could hardly claim to have taken it when the entire fiction of this night was that any conflict between the Valish and the Atlesian had been the result of a madness temporarily experienced by General Blackthorn.

Besides, considering what had happened to his own ships, it was doubtful that the old battleship would have been able to stand against the dragon in any event.

His grip on his own hands, clasped behind his back, became firmer, so firm that it was almost painful for his remaining organic hand.

A look at the displays in front of him made for a more disturbing sight than had earlier confronted him, the white Atlesian lines pierced by bulges of black, the line itself no longer a line and more of a scattering of points, some of them in grave danger of being cut off.

Harper was right, the grimm were too close; they couldn't reform under these circumstances.

The ground was not good, unfortunately; if the Green Line was lost, then there wasn't a convenient position to reestablish the defences anywhere between there and the walls of Vale itself. The people who had founded Vale, while they had situated it well from the perspective of being on a peninsula, secured by the sea on three sides — and that by a sea too shallow for large aquatic grimm — had failed when it came to finding a place with natural defences on the landward side. The ground was too flat, nothing but fields and the occasional hamlet until you reached the outer limits of the city, and the urban environment would favour the grimm as it broke up the Atlesian formation.

There was nothing for it but to fall back all the way to the walls, give up the surroundings and the outer districts, and make their stand on the Red Line.

A shot rang out over the comm.

"Report!" Ironwood demanded.

"Sorry, sir," Harper said. "But the grimm are getting pretty close."

"Understood." Ironwood said. He took a breath. "All units are to conduct a staggered retreat by platoons to the Beacon Road, at or by which point, all three battalions will present a single line facing the enemy."

A staggered retreat was one of the more superficially simple manoeuvres in the drill manual: half the platoon would fall back one hundred yards, covered by fire from the other half of the platoon, then halt and provide covering fire to the troops behind them who would then fall back past the new firing line, halt and so on, the two halves of the unit leapfrogging backwards, covering one another as they went. Simple to order, a little harder to pull off in battle, it was easy for any retreat to turn into a rout in the wrong circumstances.

But if any troops could pull it off, even under wretched circumstances, his could.

As for the Beacon Road, which — as the name suggested — was the road leading up to the school, there was nothing particularly defensible about it, but it was a major landmark, a reasonable distance away from the grimm, and a point that all units would have to pass as they retreated. There was no point stipulating a point that some companies would miss or misidentify.

"Once the three battalions have formed a line," he went on, "all units will continue to retreat to Vale's Red Line, where you will join the Valish in defending the city walls. I'll coordinate your dispositions with Colonel Sky Beak. I'm sure some of you would prefer to evacuate by air, but I want you to continue bleeding the grimm for as long as possible. Make them pay for every step. The more we can weaken them before they reach the Red Line, the better for Vale."

"Understood, sir," replied Harper.

Of course, withdrawing past the Beacon Road would mean exposing said road to the grimm, along with a way for them to launch another attack on Beacon. An attack that would succeed, since Beacon had only Ozpin left to defend it. That was … less than ideal.

But, if Ironwood was right about the intentions of the grimm, then they weren't actually interested in the school, only in keeping people away from it.

And we will certainly be kept away once the grimm have cut the road.

Oz, it will be up to you.

He would have to make sure Oz knew that. Maybe he could risk the Skyrays and send some reinforcements to support him, some of the Beacon students, if Oz wished, or … he would have to let the old man know; he couldn't just leave him on his own without a word.

As for the Beacon students, and the Haven students, and the Mistralians…

"Schnee," Ironwood said. "Extract your squad from the Zhenyuan and head for the Mistralian position, find Polemarch Yeoh, and make sure she knows that our line is breached and our units are falling back; she should do the same. And pass the order to Ebi's team to reinforce the Fourth Battalion in the centre of the line."

"Yes, sir," Schnee replied.

"What if we can hold them on the Beacon Road, sir?" asked Buller.

"I don't think that's likely, Colonel," Ironwood replied. "If you reach the road and find that the grimm attack can be repulsed, then inform me immediately, but if not, then my orders stand."

"Understood, sir," Buller replied.

"What if the dragon comes back, sir?" asked Harper.

"Then I hope that Captain Ebi and his team will have better luck in dealing with it than our ships," Ironwood said. "It's not a good answer, Harper, I'm aware, but it's the best I have for you at this time."

There was a moment of silence, broken by the sound of another gunshot. "Very well, sir. Thank you for your candour."

"Tell the troops," Ironwood said. "Tell the troops that we aren't beaten yet. So long as we protect the walls of Vale, that is a victory."

"And … can we protect the walls of Vale, sir?" asked Pulleine.

"Yes!" Ironwood declared. "Our ships may not have been sufficient, but our huntsmen haven't been tested yet, and I don't believe that they'll let us down; I know they won't. Tell the troops to put their faith in the Specialists; they won't let them down. That's all, good luck and gods go with you."

"Yes, sir," said Pulleine.

"Acknowledged, sir," answered Harper.

"Thank you, sir," said Buller.

"Ironwood out," Ironwood said, before he drew in a deep breath.

He glanced around the bridge. Nobody spoke, but the atmosphere was tense. Tense and a little brittle. The sudden appearance of the dragon, its dismantling of the cruiser battleline, it had put all the officers on edge. It had stolen their confidence away, devoured it, or blasted it like it had blasted the Ardent to atoms.

"I know that things have just gotten a lot tougher," Ironwood said. "But they could be worse."

"How?" asked one of the marines on guard.

Ironwood could have quite cheerfully strangled him. "We could be short on ammunition," he said. "But we won't run out of bullets, at least, or shells, or missiles. Wherever we make our stand, we'll have plenty to shoot at the grimm. That's something for us all to take comfort in. We may be losing, for now, but that doesn't mean that we've lost. It just means that we need to work a little harder to turn the situation around, but we will turn it around. The reason the Valish established the Green Line was as an advanced position, and the reason they built the Red Line was as somewhere to retreat to if the situation was serious. The defences of our allies are working exactly as intended.

"Des Voeux, put me through to the Amity Colosseum."

"Yes, sir. Hailing them now."

There was a pause of three seconds, approaching four, before Ironwood heard Twilight's voice coming through to the CIC.

"Um, hello?" Twilight said. "Amity Colosseum here, how can I help you?"

"Twilight?" Ironwood said.

"General Ironwood?" Twilight squawked, her voice rising. "What are you—?"

"I'm afraid I don't have much time; I need you to listen carefully," Ironwood told her. "The battle is not going so well, and the Arena's current position may not be safe, so I need you to move the Colosseum away from Beacon and into the airspace above Vale. Do you understand?"

"I understand what you're asking," Twilight replied. "But I don't know—"

"I have faith in your ability to figure it out," Ironwood told her. "The controls should be inside the Arena, somewhere near the main reactors. It isn't possible to get a crew up there, Twilight; you're the only person who can do this."

Twilight laughed nervously. "No pressure then," she muttered. "Um … how bad … never mind. Don't tell me, I don't … alright, sir, I'll do it. Somehow."

"That's my girl," Ironwood said. "Once you get started, I'm sure you'll find it's easier than you think."

"That'd be nice," Twilight said. "I should probably start right away, and I'm sure you're very busy, sir."

"I'm afraid so," Ironwood said. "Goodbye, Twilight."

"Goodbye, sir, and good luck."

"Sir," des Voeux said. "It's Cadet Rainbow Dash on the line for you; she says it's urgent."

XxXxX​

Rainbow fired her shotgun into a beringel's face. It wasn't enough to blow the grimm's head clean off, but it did stagger the large creature for a second, in which second Rainbow had reversed her grip on Undying Loyalty and started to club the beringel with the butt of the weapon.

She roared wordlessly as she slammed the stock squarely into the beringel's bone forehead, once, twice; the beringel recoiled, staggering backwards. Rainbow hit it a third time and knocked the grimm on its backside, leaving it sitting like a child on the floor with no toys. Rainbow drew back her shotgun and thrust it, butt first, at the beringel for the fourth time.

The grimm caught the blow, one meaty hand wrapping around Rainbow's wrist to pick her up clean off the floor. Rainbow swung her body forwards, planting a kick with both feet squarely into the beringel's chest. The beringel let her go. Rainbow pushed off the grimm's chest, still with both feet, backflipping through the air to land nimbly, facing the beringel that still sat on the grass.

It started to get up.

Too slow; Rainbow rushed it, the rainbow flying out behind her as she leapt off the ground, Undying Loyalty held in one hand now, her other fist drawn back.

There was a crack in the bone of the beringel's mask, and Rainbow aimed her punch there as she soared through the beringel's guard and landed her punch right where she wanted it.

The beringel's bone mask cracked and shattered, fragments fell to the ground before they turned to ash. Smoke began to rise from the beringel's body as it slumped down onto its back.

Rainbow landed, reaching for some more shells for her—

She barely saw the boarbatusk coming. It was moving too fast, spinning round and round in a black blur of motion, it barely registered in the corner of Rainbow's eye before it had slammed into her side and sent her sprawling to the ground.

The boarbatusk didn't attack after that, though it could have almost certainly gotten at least one more hit in before Rainbow could recover. Instead, it sprinted past her, heading for the white tent of the aid station.

Rainbow surged up from the ground, and again, she left a rainbow running out behind her as she overtook the boarbatusk and grabbed it from behind with both hands, wrestling it to the ground.

The boarbatusk squealed and thrashed in her grip, wriggling and writhing and kicking with its little legs, shaking its head from side to side as it struggled to get out from Rainbow's grasp and under her body.

I'll bet you wish you'd taken care of me first now, aren't you? Rainbow thought as she clung onto the boarbatusk, her arms wrapped around its fat neck, squeezing it as she dug her fingers into the grimm's black, oily flesh. The boarbatusk was bristlier than some grimm; it had hairs growing in between its bony armour plates that felt almost sharp, and certainly itchy, and all the while at the same time slippery and slimy like a … like a greased pig.

Like the greased pig at the Canterlot County Fair that Applejack had bet Rainbow that she wouldn't be able to hold onto without it slipping away, but who was laughing when Rainbow stood up, victorious and covered in mud from head to toe, huh?

Applejack. Applejack had been laughing, and so had everyone else. Except Rarity, she'd been too aghast at what a mess Rainbow had become.

Nobody was going to laugh if Rainbow Dash let go of this boarbatusk; nobody was going to laugh if she kept hold of it either, but at least they wouldn't be screaming or crying or anything else.

Behind the aid station, a Skyray lifted off into the night sky. Instead of the usual metallic of the Atlesian airships, this Skyray was painted white, with the symbol of the staff and that knotted star on it. They'd been using other Skyrays for the evacuation as well, to hurry it along beyond what the medical frigates' own airships had capacity for.

Rainbow hoped, as she clung onto the struggling boarbatusk, that the medical frigates had been moved to safety over Vale; it would be a fine thing if the dragon were to get at the medical ships and all their patients after all this.

Or at all.

With Flash, and Neon, and everyone else. They needed to survive. They needed to get their wounds patched up, and their prosthetics, so that they could…

Rainbow gritted her teeth. She would rather think about this grimm that she had hold of, steadily tightening her grip around its neck, her muscular arms drawing tighter and tighter like a noose, her fingers digging deeper into its skin whilst it squealed and writhed and kicked and bucked, than she would think about what life would be like for Flash and Neon after all this was over.

Because at least they would have lives, and as the General showed, even if people looked at you funny and whispered behind your back, it didn't stop you from heading all the way to the top.

Rainbow's biceps bulged as she squeezed harder.

They were both gonna make it, Flash and Neon; their stories weren't going to end here, not in that … the image of Neon's body lying on the ground flashed through Rainbow's mind; for a moment, she'd thought that Neon was dead, and that Ciel was only trying to save the body. It was only a twitching of what was left of Neon's tail that told Rainbow she was still alive.

But she was alive, and she was going to make it, and so was Flash. They would both have better days ahead of them — so long as the medical frigates were kept safe from harm.

And so long as Neon got off the ground here, before the aid station was overrun.

Maybe she already had. Rainbow hadn't checked. It wasn't important to check. They had to hold until everyone got off.

The boarbatusk's neck gave way before her arms, her hands, her tightening grip; the black skin of the grimm burst, the bristling hide collapsing as Rainbow pulled the boarbatusk's head off and threw it away. She let go of the lifeless body as she stood up, breathing heavily.

The white medical Skyray was gone, flown off to safety, but another Skyray — this one an ordinary airship, with no paint on it at all — was already landing. A medical orderly in blue scrubs stuck their head out of the tent.

"This is the last airship!" he said. "We're getting the last patients out, but there's room for you and your friends as well!"

Rainbow shook her head. "We'll fall back with the rest of the unit."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," Rainbow said. "Get outta here and take care of everyone."

The orderly nodded. "Thank you," he said. "For everything."

"Part of the job," Rainbow said, turning away and taking a couple of steps back to recover Undying Loyalty. She'd dropped it when the boarbatusk knocked her flying.

Rainbow bent down to pick up the weapon, only for a beowolf to fly over her head, the hook of Gambol Shroud buried in its chest.

Blake appeared above the injured grimm, dropping on it from above to cut the beowolf's head off with her cleaver.

"I thought I was going to hit you for a second," she observed, as she landed on the ground. "What did the doctor want?"

"To tell me we're almost done," Rainbow replied. "The last—" She was interrupted as the Skyray that had only landed a second ago took off, rising up again into the night sky.

A nevermore shrieked as it soared overhead, making a beeline straight for the Skyray and its complement of wounded and medical staff, but it was intercepted by a Sky Dart that took it out with three shots from its laser.

The Skyray headed off, unmolested.

"That was the last one," Rainbow said. "We're…" She trailed off for a second. "Ciel! Sun! Where did you leave Sun?" she asked as she walked towards the tent.

"Where the airships were landing, in case any grimm slipped through that way," Blake replied.

Rainbow reached the tent in a few quick strides and thrust her head inside, just to make sure that there was nobody who had been accidentally left behind; that would be bad enough, but it would be even worse if Rainbow and the others left them behind too because they didn't think to check and make sure.

Thankfully, the medical teams had done their jobs properly, and the aid station tent was completely empty when Rainbow looked inside.

She pulled her head out of the tent to find that Ciel had joined them, and Sun jogged around the side of the tent as well.

"That was it," Rainbow said. "The evacuation is complete; everyone is away. We did it."

Ciel let out a ragged sigh of relief. She bent an inch forward at the waist, like she might double over, before straightening her back as abruptly as it had bent. "Lady be praised," she whispered.

"Ciel," Blake murmured, reaching out tentatively towards her, her mouth open, her eyebrows making a hill. "About Neon, I'm sorry."

"She isn't dead yet; there is no need to be sorry!" Ciel snapped. She took a deep breath. "My apologies; your sympathies are appreciated, but—"

"But let's save all of this for later, huh?" Rainbow asked. There would be a time for Ciel to let it all out, a time when Rainbow would positively encourage her to let it all out, but that time wasn't right now. Right now, if Ciel wanted to hold it all in, then … then that was actually a good thing in the circumstances.

Rainbow reloaded Undying Loyalty as she looked around the battlefield. The Third's line had been broken, just as Rainbow had thought that it would be; most of the battalion had fallen back, at least as far as Rainbow could tell; the flank wasn't completely open yet, mostly because there were at least some units that were trying to keep holding hands with Fourth Battalion, and that was maintaining at least some kind of a line between the aid station and the grimm, just as the Fourth Battalion — though it was retreating — wasn't retreating so fast that the wounded had been left stranded. But it was a line that maybe existed more firmly on a screen on the Valiant in some places than it did on the ground; the lines of both battalions had holes in them, gaps between companies and platoons as order frayed.

They had been lucky that few really big grimm had come through those gaps — and even luckier that the dragon was somewhere else right now — but enough grimm had slipped through the holes in the Altesian line to keep them busy.

Now, as the fighting came closer, both units retreating backwards towards Vale and probably the First doing the same thing over to the left, there would still be enough to keep them busy.

"Ciel," Rainbow said, "stay here for now; the rest of us will—"

"You have a call, Rainbow Dash," Midnight piped up before Rainbow could finish. "From Lyra Heartstrings."

"'Lyra'?" Rainbow repeated. Lyra? Lyra? Lyra was calling her?

Lyra was calling her, and after the last that they'd heard of her was that she was with Amber and Bon Bon.

That was what the woman running the restaurant had said to Penny and the others when they had a quick look for Amber. Amber had left Beacon via the road that led to Vale, and with her had been Tempest, Bon Bon, Dove … and Lyra.

Lyra, who was now calling Rainbow Dash.

There was no better way to find out why than to take the call, and the circumstances meant that it might be kind of important to find out why, so, in spite of the other circumstances going on not too far away, Rainbow said, "Put her on, Midnight."

"She's on line one, Miss Dash," Midnight said, with a touch of sarcasm in her voice that Rainbow couldn't be bothered to deal with at the moment.

She had other things to think about right now.

Like Lyra, whose voice emerged out of the scroll and into the night to reach not only Rainbow's ears but Blake's, Ciel's, and Sun's as well.

"Rainbow Dash?" she asked, her voice trembling; she was speaking kind of quietly, not whispering but sort of muffling her voice; it sounded like she wanted to shout but was afraid to make that much noise. "Rainbow Dash is that you?"

"Yes," Rainbow said at once. "Yeah, Lyra, I'm here. Where—?"

"Oh, thank the gods!" Lyra exclaimed quietly. "I— I didn't know who else to call, I didn't know what to do but then I thought that you would know what's going on because I've seen you with Team Sapphire and Team Sapphire was always with Amber and besides you always seemed to know what to do back at Canterlot, that's why we all looked up to you, they said that even when the White Fang attacked the Councillor's wedding you didn't—"

"Lyra," Rainbow interrupted her. "Lyra, calm down, okay. It's going to be okay, just calm down. What's going on? Is Amber with you?" Maybe she'd had a change of heart, decided that actually, no, she didn't want to help Salem out at all, she didn't want to betray Pyrrha or Ciel.

Although why would Lyra sound so on edge in that case?

"Professor Ozpin's dead," Lyra whimpered. "They killed him. I saw it, I was right there."

"What?" Sun cried. "Someone killed the headmaster?"

"Who is that?"

"No one, no one important," Rainbow said, holding up a hand towards Sun to get him to be quiet. "Don't worry about that, Lyra, just … he's dead? Are you sure about that?"

"I was right there!" Lyra repeated, her voice rising despite what seemed like her best efforts. "He, he tried to stop us, and he broke my aura, but then Amber used her semblance on him, I think, and he fell asleep and then … and then Tempest killed him. She suffocated him. And I tried to stop it but Bon Bon wouldn't let me and Amber just stood there and she didn't do anything and I … I'm so sorry, Rainbow Dash, I thought we were doing the right thing, I … she told me that we were doing the right thing but then… I'm so sorry."

"It's…" Rainbow trailed off for a second.

Professor Ozpin was dead? That was … Rainbow couldn't claim to have any kind of closeness with the guy — though this was going to be a kick in the teeth for Sunset when she found out about it, not to mention … did any of the other members of Team SAPR like the guy at all anymore? She couldn't remember, but it was definitely going to hurt Sunset — but even so, he'd been the headmaster of Beacon and the leader of the fight against Salem, and now he was dead? Killed by Tempest? Not just that he was dead, but that he'd been killed by an Atlesian, one of her classmates.

The world is going to be different tomorrow, isn't it?

Apart from anything else, someone would have to step up and lead the fight against Salem now. It should be General Ironwood, by all rights, but maybe … maybe Professor Ozpin's group had other ideas, maybe they'd put Ruby's uncle in charge, or Professor Theodore from Shade; he was a couple of years older than General Ironwood, if Rainbow had it right, not that that should make any difference.

Or maybe Professor Goodwitch would take over Beacon and the battle.

Not that any of that mattered so much right now. That was tomorrow's business. Tonight…

"It's okay," Rainbow said, because whether that was strictly true or not, it would help Lyra to hear it. "It's going to be okay, Lyra. Where are you?"

"I'm at Beacon," Lyra said. "We came here to get … Bon Bon said there was something that Amber could use to bargain for her safety, but … I ran off after … I've almost reached the road. I think someone might be after me." She paused for half a moment. "I'm pretty scared right now."

"It's going to be okay," Rainbow said. "Lyra, it's going to be fine, but don't use the road — that's the obvious place to look for you — I need you to … head for the cliffs, okay? Head for the cliffs, then circle back around to the forge and hide there until I come get you. Lyra, this thing that Amber could use, did they have it when you left?"

"No," Lyra said. "We hadn't—" She shrieked in pain, no words just a loud cry, louder than anything she'd said before.

And then that was gone too, and there was only silence. Silence that lingered in the night air, hovering between them and over them and all around them, enclosing them in a little world, cut off from the battle raging around them.

"Lyra?" Rainbow asked. "Lyra, are you still there?"

"I've lost the connection," Midnight said.

"Call her back!" Rainbow snapped.

Lyra, why did you have to get involved in this?

Bon Bon, why did you have to get her involved in this? I can't understand why you'd want to be involved in this, but if you had to be involved, couldn't you at least have kept Lyra out of it?

Lyra, why did you have to be a huntress in the first place? She hadn't been cut out for it; she didn't have the chops for it, the feel for fighting. She was sweet and nice and likeable, and she had a halfway useful semblance, Rainbow would admit, but she wasn't a huntress. She had no place in all of this; she hadn't belonged in it. She hadn't even belonged at Beacon, let alone getting involved in all of this stuff with Salem and Maidens and Relics.

And now … now, she might be dead

She might be dead, along with Professor Ozpin.

"There's no response," Midnight said. "I can't reach her device."

Rainbow closed her eyes for a second. Lyra. She wouldn't say that they'd ever been close, but she'd played a pretty harp, and there'd been nothing to dislike about her that Rainbow had been aware of. She hadn't deserved to get caught up in this, to pay that price.

And unfortunately, that was the least of things to be concerned about right now.

"So it is true," Ciel murmured. "Amber really has betrayed us. I had hoped it was not so."

"Amber?" Sun asked. "You mean that girl, Professor Ozpin's niece? The one who hung around with Team Sapphire all the time lately? She killed Professor Ozpin? Her own uncle?"

"At least it sounds as though they haven't gotten the Relic yet," Blake suggested.

"Relic?" Sun repeated. "What's a relic?"

"Not when Lyra left, but how long is that going to last?" Rainbow replied. "What's to stop them now that Professor Ozpin's dead?"

"Can one of you guys just stop for a second and tell me what's going on?" Sun cried.

"Blake, sum it up for him quickly," Rainbow replied. "Midnight, call the General."

"What are you going to tell him?" asked Ciel.

"I'm going to tell him that Professor Ozpin's dead and that the Relic is in danger," Rainbow replied. "You don't think we can or should not tell him, do you?"

"No," Ciel said at once, "But how will you tell him without exposing secrets to the bridge crew aboard the Valiant?"

That was a good question, one that Rainbow hadn't considered in the rush of things happening. "I," she began. "I will … I'll say things like they're code names and then everyone will think that I'm talking about something secret that they don't know the real meaning of."

Ciel considered that. "Yes, that is probably the best we can do in the circumstances."

"Okay, Sun," Blake said. "The short version is that there is a secret and powerful weapon stored underneath Beacon, Amber is the only person who get to it, and we're afraid that she's about to remove it and give it to someone really bad — and it sounds like she and her friends killed Professor Ozpin when he tried to stop her."

"But why is Amber the only—?"

"Even if I had time to explain that, Sun, I'm not sure that I should," Blake replied, cutting him off. "This information is … very secret. I shouldn't be sharing any of it with you, but … just, please, trust me for now, okay?"

"Is this it?" Sun asked. "Is that why you went to Mountain Glenn, is that why you did all those missions?"

"It's certainly part of it," Blake admitted. "There's a lot more going on that I can't tell you now."

"Okay," Sun muttered. "I guess I don't want to get you in trouble or anything."

"Thank you," Blake said. "I'm sorry, but—"

"Dash," General Ironwood said. "I'm sure this is important."

"Yes, sir, very," Rainbow said at once. "I have reason to believe that Professor Ozpin is dead and that Amber may be about to enter the Sealed Vault."

There was a moment of silence. Rainbow could hardly blame the General for needing a second; it was a lot to take in at once.

"How do you know this?" General Ironwood asked, his tone hard to read. He was probably working hard to keep it that way.

"Lyra called me, sir, Lyra Heartstrings," Rainbow explained. "She was at Canterlot Combat School for some of the same years as me; she knew — knows — me a little bit. And according to Team Sapphire, she was last seen in the company of Amber and her allies. She told me that they had come back to Beacon to get something that she didn't elaborate on but which I think is the Relic and that she'd seen Professor Ozpin killed by … Tempest Shadow. That … Lyra isn't a killer, sir; she didn't mean for anything bad to happen, she was misled by others. When she saw what was happening, she ran away and called me."

"I see," General Ironwood murmured. "And where is she now?"

"I don't know, sir," Rainbow admitted. "We lost contact and can't reestablish it. It's … she might be dead too, sir, killed by—"

"By her erstwhile allies, following her attack of conscience," Ironwood muttered.

"It's not her fault, sir," Rainbow said, in a very mild rebuke.

"Perhaps not," Ironwood allowed. "But anyway, according to Miss Heartstrings, they didn't have the, ahem, Relic?"

"Not as far as Lyra knew, sir, no," Rainbow said.

"Very well," General Ironwood said. "Are Belladonna and Soleil with you?"

"Yes, sir," Ciel said.

"I'm here, sir," Blake added. She glanced at Sun but didn't mention his presence.

Sun didn't bring himself up either.

"I'll try and contact Ozpin," General Ironwood announced. "If he answers, then you've been sold a bill of goods, and I'll inform you at once. In the meantime, I want you to take an airship, head across the battlefield to collect Penny and Team Sapphire from the Mistralian position. According to Ozpin, they know where the Sealed Vault is located, which isn't something even I could tell you otherwise. They can guide you there to stop the Relic from being removed if possible, or to recapture it otherwise. Taking Amber alive would be preferable, but not necessary."

"Understood, sir," Rainbow said. "We'll leave at once."

"Be careful," General Ironwood said. "This isn't an opponent to be underestimated. Watch each other's backs."

"Always, sir," Rainbow said.

"Of course," General Ironwood acknowledged. "Ironwood out."

"He's not sure he believes you," Sun observed.

"Understandable; it was quite a lot of information to be given at once," Ciel said. "And who can begrudge him having hope that Professor Ozpin still lives?"

"If this was all some kind of a trick, and Lyra had done it to lure us into a trap, that would be great," Rainbow said. "I don't think it is, because … it would be a lot of risk for them, and there's not a lot of reason for them to do it. They don't need to kill us or whatever; what they need is to get the Relic, and anything that gets in the way of that is a risk for them. I'm sure General Ironwood knows that too, but he has to make sure. He can't just take it on trust that Professor Ozpin's dead because I heard it from someone I went to combat school with and who fell in with the wrong crowd."

"And if he is dead?" asked Sun. "If someone killed Professor Ozpin, how are we supposed to fight them?"

"Together," Rainbow said. "As best we can." It was a good question, but at the same time, Rainbow didn't have a brilliant answer for it. She took comfort from the fact that Team SAPR — and Penny — had taken down Cinder last night, and Amber had the same magic that Cinder did but was probably a little bit less dangerous in terms of her combat skills, so it was possible. Yes, Amber wasn't alone, but Dove? Bon Bon? Tempest was the most dangerous of the three of them, but Rainbow was pretty sure that she could take Tempest one on one. Her and Blake combined would make it a cakewalk.

It could be done. It wasn't impossible, far from it.

"Once we've collected Team Sapphire, then we'll come up with a plan on our way to Beacon," Rainbow said. "For now, let's move, while there are still some airships left."

XxXxX​

"No response, sir," said des Voeux.

"Try again," Ironwood replied.

"Aye aye, sir," answered des Voeux as he bent to his task.

Ironwood kept his face impassive, conveying none of the emotions that whirled within him. From the moment that Dash had opened so bluntly, but also so necessarily, he had been … to say that he had not seen it coming would be an understatement.

Ozpin, dead?

"Still nothing, sir," des Voeux informed him.

"Alright," Ironwood said. "Thank you, des Voeux."

"Sir."

That was not proof beyond all doubt, but it was suggestive — very suggestive — that Dash's friend Miss Heartstrings was correct: that Ozpin was dead.

Of course, something that you found out when Ozpin brought you into his inner circle, alongside all of the stuff about Salem, the Relics, the Maidens, was that Oz was never really gone. He would always be with you, after a fashion. But Ozpin, that particular old man, the one who had infuriated him at times, baffled him at others, tried his patience upon occasion, but who had always tried, according to his lights, to do right by his school, his students, and by the people of Remnant as a whole, was gone for good.

Ironwood would never speak to him again. It would be … someone else that he would answer to next, a stranger, someone he didn't know — and someone, as much to the point, who didn't know him either.

The transition, so he had been told, was always rough; no two summers were alike, no two Maidens, no two sages. The lieutenants chosen by one were not always to the taste of their successor, just as the successor was not always to the taste of the late predecessor's lieutenants. That was, apparently, an inevitable truth of their secret circle, though all parties approached the transition with the best will in the world and under the very best circumstances.

These were not the very best circumstances.

It was said that when the Last King of Vale had lain on his deathbed, he had reassured all those around him that 'the moment has been prepared for.' Ironwood very much doubted that this moment had been prepared for by anyone; certainly, he hadn't prepared for it. Had Glynda, or Theodore?

And as for Lionheart…

A headmaster and a Maiden both traitors, and another Maiden vanished without trace. What a time to have a new leader foisted upon us.

Not to mention the amount of time it could take for the chosen one to show themselves; according to old General Brazen, his predecessor, they had been without for a little more than two years before Ozpin had appeared. Could they afford to wait that long now?

We may not have any other choice. It wasn't as though these things could be forced, after all.

These were all future considerations. For tonight, fortunately, he didn't need Ozpin to fight this battle.

His victory — Atlas' victory — would be his tribute to the old man's memory.

I won't let you down, Oz.

"Des Voeux," he said. "Hail Colonel Sky Beak."

"Aye aye, sir," des Voeux said, sounding a little relieved not to be asked to try and hail Ozpin again. He bent to his console, fingers moving lightly across the controls. "Patching you through now, sir."

"Colonel Sky Beak, this is General Ironwood; I'm afraid I have some bad news," Ironwood said. "Grimm have breached the Green Line, and my forces are being compelled to retreat, having taken serious losses to our air forces."

"Understood, General," Sky Beak said. "I take it this reversal is a result of this new grimm that we've seen in the skies."

"The dragon, yes," Ironwood acknowledged. "It's more powerful than anything we've faced on this battlefield up until now."

"Can it be killed?"

"Any grimm can be killed in the right circumstances, and I'm still hopeful for my huntsmen and huntresses," Ironwood told him. "However, as of now, the dragon is leaving us alone, and my troops are falling back in the direction of Vale and the Red Line. How is the evacuation of civilians from the districts beyond the wall proceeding?"

There was a pause before Sky Beak said, "People are reaching the gate as quickly as they can."

"When my forces arrive, they can join your forces in defending the walls," Ironwood said. "Or we can go into reserve behind your troops, if you'd prefer."

"Something that we can discuss nearer the time," Sky Beak replied. "Are the grimm pursuing?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Ironwood admitted. "But we'll get there before them. My troops are continuing to bleed the grimm as they retreat and suppressing the pursuit as best they can. The grimm are following, but not hard upon our heels."

"I'm glad to hear it," Sky Beak replied. "I'll make my dispositions, and then your troops can slot into them as possible when they arrive." Another pause. "General Ironwood, I can't risk the grimm getting through the gates and into Vale; if your soldiers are too late or the grimm too close—"

"They won't," Ironwood insisted. "I understand your concerns, Colonel, but I assure you that my forces will reach the gates with time to spare and the grimm kept at a safe distance."

"I hope so, General Ironwood, I really do," Colonel Sky Beak said. "And if you're right, then I look forward to welcoming them to Vale when they arrive."