Invadingcat478
Certified Homophone
- Location
- Nekoneko town
You forgot waifu #3(gorm)
The Other Path [RWBY SI] [AHOIAC AU]
- Thread starter shadenight123
- Start date
Gh055twr1t3r
Idle Prophet
- Location
- United States
Alright, let's not do this. Qrow hasn't killed off most of Mistral's huntsman and betrayed humanity itself. He's the headmaster only because Ozpin needed someone who was completely loyal.
Dezron
In the Omnissiah we trust !
- Location
- Poland
Atleast Leon known how to run Academy. All what Qrow has has since becoming Headmaster was drinking, he spent half of school budget on alcohol.
And since Oz wanted someone loyal to him why he didn't choose Tai ? He would be much better choice .
- Location
- East of Eden
Does anyone else find it at least a little funny that Wren is inducting bunch of new huntsmen trainees and giving them their first lesson in chapter 101?
Wren Shade, teaching Huntsmen 101!
Fragnostic
Cheshire
- Location
- Neko City
But Shade's natural environment is a coffee plantation.
Wonder if Ozpin has enough magical juice left in him to give Wren the ability to turn into a birb...
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Dezron
In the Omnissiah we trust !
- Location
- Poland
I think Oz making Qrow headmaster was act of desperation.
Wren took a board on which Salem and Ozpin were playing , throw it out of the window and then give them new game without manuals. So Oz trying to regain some control use his best scout/spy Qrow as headmaster that is loyal to him.
But since Qrow don't have any idea what to do as headmaster Oz can dictate him what to do.
Wren took a board on which Salem and Ozpin were playing , throw it out of the window and then give them new game without manuals. So Oz trying to regain some control use his best scout/spy Qrow as headmaster that is loyal to him.
But since Qrow don't have any idea what to do as headmaster Oz can dictate him what to do.
Gh055twr1t3r
Idle Prophet
- Location
- United States
I guess keeping the trains running makes up for murdering your alumni and fellows? Weird flex but okay.
Nervos Belli
Don't think this means you've won!
- Location
- Murica
Even if Leon knew how to run a school properly, the last few chapters show he hasn't been for a long time.
More like run it to the ground. And it's not impossible he also used those skills to siphon a kingdom's funds to Salem. And, you know, serving veteran huntsmen in silver platters to the Grimm and Salem's kill teams.
While Qrow might be useless beyond holding a title without being an easy target to kill, at least he's not an active threat to humanity.
Just admit it Dezron, your tsundere tendencies to the birdman with alcoholic problems is showing.
Exsequens
I Ent Dead!
- Location
- Back in the Toaster.
If I had to make a guess, when Ozpin assigned Qrow to act as the headmaster of Haven, he didn't realize how bad Leo had left the place in. From the perspective of a proper up and running academy, Qrow's work might have been a matter of assigning missions, keeping the budget in check, then some paperwork, speeches and delegating. Especially the delegating.
Instead Qrow comes to an academy quite unable to operate. Teachers, most of the good ones are dead, the smart ones are keeping it down, and the rest are too important to reassign. Students, unable to attend an academy that cannot function, or transferred out to the other three. The budget, gutted and not much use without the previous two, and Qrow is not someone you assign to manage the budget to without someone to watch. Throw in the Mistralian class system, a psychopath killing your huntsmen, the weight of a Kingdom on your back, student teams not reporting back that you know you have sent them to their deaths, and not being able to do much of anything to fix the situation...
Mix all that together and you have a recipe to leave Qrow in a most abrasive state falling back on what he knows, trying to drink away them sorrows. And that's without him knowing the truth of how the situation is, think how bad he might get when he discovers Oz has no damn idea what to do.
---
On another note, Weiss, think about what your brother needs for a love life, you need to vote for Chez as your future sister-in-law! She'll bring that much needed fun and life into the family, also, kittens for you to Schnee squee over. Especially the kittens.
Instead Qrow comes to an academy quite unable to operate. Teachers, most of the good ones are dead, the smart ones are keeping it down, and the rest are too important to reassign. Students, unable to attend an academy that cannot function, or transferred out to the other three. The budget, gutted and not much use without the previous two, and Qrow is not someone you assign to manage the budget to without someone to watch. Throw in the Mistralian class system, a psychopath killing your huntsmen, the weight of a Kingdom on your back, student teams not reporting back that you know you have sent them to their deaths, and not being able to do much of anything to fix the situation...
Mix all that together and you have a recipe to leave Qrow in a most abrasive state falling back on what he knows, trying to drink away them sorrows. And that's without him knowing the truth of how the situation is, think how bad he might get when he discovers Oz has no damn idea what to do.
---
On another note, Weiss, think about what your brother needs for a love life, you need to vote for Chez as your future sister-in-law! She'll bring that much needed fun and life into the family, also, kittens for you to Schnee squee over. Especially the kittens.
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Invadingcat478
Certified Homophone
- Location
- Nekoneko town
Nonesense! Clearly our local garden genome is the destined Queen of the promised land!
- Location
- Venezuela
Now that I think about it, isn't Saber Arturia kind of short?
- Location
- Is this really necessary?
You can say Qrow is the worst Headmaster on Remnant, but that's not actually saying much when there's only four academies in the world. We've only seen him do... well, absolutely nothing really. Which is quite frankly way, way better than actively sending out your subordinates to their own death and ruining the potential of perhaps several generations worth of Huntsman students.
Mistral is fucked up, with wolves prowling inside and out. You got bandit tribes like Raven's threatening settlements and trade, the class divide of Mistral which enables a competitive slave market, murderous madmen like Tyrian hunting down the best Huntsman in the kingdom, and Salem who has already previously infiltrated Haven.
Oh, and the ever-lurking presence of Grimm threatening to invade the city to devour all human life.
I don't think Qrow is the Headmaster because he's a good administrator or a pencil pusher. I don't think he's there because Ozpin was desperate to make an appointment and could only find a drunk part-time teacher as his best option. Qrow is overseeing Haven Academy because he is one of the few loyal Huntsman who can fight back and win without taking shit from their enemies. Whether they be the criminal underbelly of Mistral who competes for new recruits, the corrupt high class elite who only care about profits, or agents of Salem seeking to destroy civilization, Qrow's presence means the forces of Good can finally make a stand in Mistral and begin fighting back.
Who cares that he didn't make a speech at the initiation ceremony? Why does it matter if Qrow doesn't actually teach students? Plenty of real world professors don't, but that doesn't stop them from making brilliant advances in academia. The important thing here is that Qrow won't compromise their allies by folding over the moment a struggle arises. He won't take the easy way out and grovel before Salem or any other aristocrat, which is exactly what Haven Academy needs at this point.
Mistral is fucked up, with wolves prowling inside and out. You got bandit tribes like Raven's threatening settlements and trade, the class divide of Mistral which enables a competitive slave market, murderous madmen like Tyrian hunting down the best Huntsman in the kingdom, and Salem who has already previously infiltrated Haven.
Oh, and the ever-lurking presence of Grimm threatening to invade the city to devour all human life.
I don't think Qrow is the Headmaster because he's a good administrator or a pencil pusher. I don't think he's there because Ozpin was desperate to make an appointment and could only find a drunk part-time teacher as his best option. Qrow is overseeing Haven Academy because he is one of the few loyal Huntsman who can fight back and win without taking shit from their enemies. Whether they be the criminal underbelly of Mistral who competes for new recruits, the corrupt high class elite who only care about profits, or agents of Salem seeking to destroy civilization, Qrow's presence means the forces of Good can finally make a stand in Mistral and begin fighting back.
Who cares that he didn't make a speech at the initiation ceremony? Why does it matter if Qrow doesn't actually teach students? Plenty of real world professors don't, but that doesn't stop them from making brilliant advances in academia. The important thing here is that Qrow won't compromise their allies by folding over the moment a struggle arises. He won't take the easy way out and grovel before Salem or any other aristocrat, which is exactly what Haven Academy needs at this point.
That's two of the three women in your family taking an interest in your love life, Wren. Brace yourself, because a mother's nagging comes next. And believe me, childhood stories from an older sister do not compare with the embarrassment gleefully provided by a mother.
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Invadingcat478
Certified Homophone
- Location
- Nekoneko town
Does not matter who Wren chooses, one will suffer wallowing on bitter defeat knowing they were not choosen. I hope Wren either choose both or none to avoid tension on the team or hurting one of the girls.
Chapter One Hundred and Two
- Location
- https://discord.gg/z9tBvbh
Chapter One Hundred and Two
Some people might argue that the true nature of man is clad in mystery, and uncertainty. Some might even go as far as muse that the world is either formed out of love, or out of hate. Truth be told, the world's made of two, or truly three, desires. Eat. Sleep. Fuck. The cynicism with which I thought wasn't truly tied to my real thoughts, but mostly to the vast mass of unwashed bastards that stood at the very bottom of the high-rise building I had scaled.
The problem with having a small white Nevermore linked to one's senses was indeed that of making you despise mankind in its entirety. I knew there was the good in there, but the negativity? While it wasn't strong for most of them, it was still present.
Street rats that lurked for food, for example, didn't feel as negatively tasty as a man thrown on the streets and suffering from hunger for the first time in his life. When you got used to your situation, you stopped feeling too bad about it, though another kind of negativity took the place of the first one.
There was a thirst in many a peddler's hearts. There was an anger in many a beggar's mind. There was jealousy, spite, but not hatred. Their lot in life was decided if not at birth, at the very least within the years of their youth. What can a child do, when one's father wastes away the family's money on drinks and whores? What can such an adult figure do, when all he has left is resentment for a situation he didn't ask for, and couldn't escape from?
That was the problem with Mistral. Many people suffered, and they accepted it. The flames of the revolution didn't burn, because they weren't there. The embers were covered in thick ashes, and there they would stay until someone stoked them.
And once they did, retribution would happen swiftly and mercilessly.
The lower classes are but rats clinging to our tables. We gave them tasty treats once and now we cannot get rid of them; an iron fist will solve the issue.
The white Nevermore shrieked like a hawk would, flying in lazy circles over a mansion built on the mountain side. The problem with Tyrian was that he wasn't hiding in the low city. It would have made sense for him to, but it was apparent he wasn't there. The smell of assassins was a peculiarly strong one, and yet it was the kind I had come to distinguish.
A murderer's uncaring attitude for life itself was a tangy, rotten smell like that of a cloyingly sweet orange left to rot in the air. My fingers clutched my forearms as the Nevermore shrieked again. The shrieks were a lure. Guards would look up and see a white bird. Tyrian would look up and see a Schnee Nevermore. Yet the shrieks didn't give me anything to work with. Perhaps the man wasn't afraid, but merely excited.
Excitement at murder wasn't negativity. A murderer's hidden guilt, now that was something I could track.
I could use a new concubine-who's got the prettiest daughter of my bodyguards? Ah, I know!
My eyes snapped carefully open.
The streets below me were bustling with people. The buildings reeked of a thick waft of regrets, bundled together with the lurking, ever-present knowledge that things wouldn't get any better but, hopefully, they wouldn't get any worse.
This level of filth was present everywhere, even in Atlas and Vale. Vacuo at least had the honesty of letting you fight freely in the streets for your ideals. Here it would just get you arrested.
"For a nation to function, its basic services must be guaranteed," I whispered. "The law must be swift, sure and punish people properly," the Nevermore moved away from the houses of the wealthy and flew towards the Mistral' barracks. Yet getting the police to work first would be unimportant, if a criminal being caught wouldn't get judged properly. Yet the police told me enough, and if not them, their darkest thoughts did.
The first path to acquiring influence and power was always to become friends with a judge and a lawyer. Then came the policemen and the tax accountant, but before all of them, the law had to be brought to one's side. And the chief of the Mistral police knew it very well.
He needs to stop shooting street rats from the window. Tell him once, tell him twice-we're lucky he's a poor shot...and the heir to the Breeze Trade Company. An image flashed through my mind.
I hopped down from the top of the building, letting gravity do its job as I stared deep below at a cart.
Inwardly, I gave a mental sigh of disbelief.
"Cabbages! Fresh cabbages!" the cabbage-merchant yelled while pulling his cart.
A Schnee Glyph shone briefly atop his cart, and I landed on it rather than on his produce. The man gasped, even as I waved at him and then hopped down with my feet on the streets of Mistral once more. "Have a nice day," I said cheerfully, waving the man goodbye before trudging through the crowd with a catchy tune in my throat. I needed some levity to get the thoughts out of my head.
"You shouldn't cheat on your boyfriend with the butcher, the wife knows and wants to talk," I said absentmindedly as I passed by a stall, the lady behind it blushing up a furious storm as a cranky old customer laughed. I rolled my eyes and moved on, the sickening lurch within my chest simmering down to nothingness as I saw people smile, a couple of kids playing with an impromptu ball made of hard leather, and then some chattering wives going about their business without much of a care in the world.
The Grimm-Sight, for that was what I was going to call it, showed me the negativity of people. It didn't show me a single speck of good in the world; it didn't allow me to understand or witness the beauty that there could be in friendships, in love, in laughter-and because of that, I had to douse myself in happiness just to get back to normal more often than not.
A lesser man would get buried under the negativity, but I was not a lesser man.
I had happy thoughts to concentrate on.
Happy, happy thoughts.
"Haven's academy is reopening-" my ears twitched at the conversation, "Thinking of sending your kid to try out?"
"And watch him die? Better off if he becomes a stall vendor like me," the man behind the stall in question grumbled back. "When stuff gets real bad, the guys up high will finally get off their asses and pay for extra protection. They can't get our taxes if we're dead."
"They might increase taxes, though," the customer grumbled.
"And we're not going to pay them," the stall vendor shrugged.
I chuckled as my steps brought me past the two, and into a side-alley. From there, it was just a matter of following the street up a tortuous path, and then come to a halt at a tall wall that split the lower and 'middle-ground' sectors. It was day and the wall's gates were open, the guards barely glancing at me as I walked through. I couldn't be anything other than a huntsman, and they weren't paid enough to bother the huntsmen coming and going through.
For the first time, there was no one stopping me as I amiably stepped into a side-alley and from there began to follow the tracks on the ground, until I came to a halt in front of a large square building that worked as both the barracks of the Mistral police and as the de-facto prison of the city. One would have expected it to be somewhere more secure, but there was an open doors policy for some of the criminals, apparently.
Amiably, I walked in.
"Hello," I said as the receptionist glanced at me, both eyebrows raised in puzzlement. Huntsmen rarely went to the police after all; if there was something a huntsmen couldn't solve, the police wasn't the first place to go.
"How may the Mistral police help you, sir?" the receptionist asked.
"Oh, well, I wanted to ask about bounties for potentially dangerous criminals-" I said, "I've seen there are quite a few missions to hunt them down, some pretty old too-are they still valid or..."
"The police doesn't handle such things," the receptionist acquiesced. "Whether a mission is still valid or not falls under the management of Haven's academy."
I placed an arm on the counter and looked at the woman in question, "I am one of the new professors of Haven Academy, and I would like to know how things work," I muttered, "So we do not step on anyone's toes. Are we clear, now, ma'am?"
The woman blinked. Then, she quietly nodded. "The chief will see you in a moment. Whom shall I announce?"
"Professor Wren Schnee," I said gently, a tender, loving Italian smile settling on my face before the ruthless Vacuo smile took over. The receptionist blinked, her eyes going to a mug on her table where the Schnee symbol was standing as proof of manufacturing. I placed an index finger on the counter, the Schnee Symbol happily materializing upon it.
"Chief," the woman said into the main reception phone, "Professor Schnee from Haven is here to see you-yes, that Schnee family."
She swallowed, and then attempted a gentle smile. "His office is at the end of the hallway to the right, M-Mister S-"
A lithe and nimble man arrived in a hurry, sweat pouring from his brows as his eyes glanced at me ever so briefly, a white hat covering his head. "Mister Schnee! Oh my, it's a pleasure to meet you!" his hands went for my right one, and he began to pull it up and down as if afraid I wasn't real. "We'll talk more in my office, Mister Schnee! It's private-it's better. It's this way-" he hastily guided me through the hallway as more than a few policemen took the time to look up from their desks to memorize my face.
His office was large, and reeked of a cloying sweet smell coming from a pipe on his desk. A cabinet filled with bottles of priceless alcohol stood in a corner, and the man hastened to offer me a seat while smiling brightly. "We didn't know someone as illustrious as yourself had come here, Mister Schnee."
"Please, Mister Schee is-was my father," I answered back. "Right now, I am here in an unofficial way, as a professor of Haven Academy interested in making sure everything runs smoothly. I don't want any toes to be squashed, or people to grow offended," I smiled. "That is why, I'd really love your cooperation-if you'd be willing to, of course."
"Certainly," the police chief said with a bright smile on his face. The plaque on his desk read Chief of Police Nezumi. And I raised an eyebrow as the man stood up once more to move to the liquor cabinet. "It's nice to know that there are still huntsmen who remember what it's like to be among men. You wouldn't know how glad I was when Headmaster Lionheart came to me the first time to tell me I had to stop sending missions his way. There was such an ungodly pressure from the families," he sighed. "But now that we can relax, everything's going smoothly. We arrest the random street rat, a murderer here and there, and everyone's quite happy with it. We could send a couple of those up to Haven, as missions," he smiled. "Provided there was some...financing."
"Financing isn't a problem," I said with a smile, "but you mentioned families, as in...more than one?" I furrowed my brows. "I am still new to Mistral, chief. If you could give me a hand, I would be incredibly thankful."
"Oh, of course, the police is here to serve," the man smiled looking quite pleased. "Yes, I have just the thing," Nezumi nodded, opening a drawer in his desk. "In confidence, we wouldn't be able to arrest them even if we wanted to; too much depends on them. We've got Little Miss Malachite, who's the leader of the Spider Family," a familiar face showed itself on a white and black photograph. She went as far as wink at the camera too. "Then we've got the Fish family led by Mister Tora," and with that he pulled out the picture of a big, stern-looking man with crimson skin and a green bandana. "And finally we have the Shrew family."
I blinked at that. Did someone seriously-Who would ever-
The picture showed a small man, a pair of thin mustache on his lips and extremely thick dark eyebrows. "Don't let the names fool you. They're pretty much a feature of the city by now; harmless if you follow their rules, but quite dangerous otherwise."
I smiled, and nodded, "I see." I clasped my fingers together, "One thing I find to be incredibly useful is to get off with the right foot, Chief Nezumi. I may end up having...hot-blooded students under me. They may cause damage to the city, maybe break this or that rule...most of them are street rats, but-we should talk business while we're at it."
Nezumi happily spoke business.
His words were relayed, word by word, from my Scroll not one hour later. The rest of my team was gathered, and Headmaster Qrow was there too, looking drunkenly at the wall as he took one final swig.
"Pretty much told you that if you pay enough, you can get away with murder," Qrow growled under his breath. "This-This wasn't what Leonardo was supposed to be doing here in Mistral! The bastard!" he craned his neck, "So, you brought this to my attention for what reason, brat?"
"Kill a snake, another takes is place," I pointed out. "Drown a nest, another will be made. We need the students to become efficient, functioning members of society and we need them to replace the current establishment. We can't topple the structure without having another one ready to take its place."
Qrow's eyebrows rose. "So what? You're planning on breaking down the government of Mistral? Shit, seriously?"
"No," I said, shaking my head. "Not the government. The law enforcement. We have people not getting arrested, we have policemen looking the other way-we have crimes left unsolved. I'd hit the tribunals first, but we don't have the time, nor the interest, to teach our students about law." I tapped my finger on the surface of his desk. "We need soldiers to protect the people from the Grimm. The Council of Mistral knows that. That's why they're not opposing us. With this stunt right here, they'll also shortly know we don't want to cause troubles and are willing to play the game, if we're allowed to continue."
Qrow sneered, "We got rid of one double-agent, what's one more, you might say?" he snickered at that, shaking his head. "Listen kiddo. I'm going to be frank. I'm not headmaster material. I'm a great teacher, kickass uncle, great when it comes to telling shit-faced children what they're doing right and what they're doing wrong, but finesse? Finesse's not my word. If you want to break some policemen face in, say the word, count me in. I'd do it gladly," he looked around, dropping his flask on the desk. "But it's like being a fucking juggler with balls that are covered in iron spikes. You keep everything in balance and it fucking hurts to."
He sighed, and placed his head on the surface of the desk. "The most important thing is to keep the city safe from the Grimm, brat. To keep the people safe. Burn down the police station for all that I care, but don't do it because it would make you feel better. Do it because it would make life better for the people."
I sighed and took a small breath, "There's also the matter of professor Vash-he hasn't come back yet."
"He's alive, if nothing else the bastard's tough to fucking kill," Qrow muttered. "Probably lost in some drunken stupor of sorts. And if not, I don't really care. He's from Atlas."
"Yeah, and we're from Atlas too," Zhelty pointed out. "So?"
"That's bullshit, kid," Qrow said, "You're from Vacuo. All of you. It's not what's written on a piece of paper that matters, but how you carry yourself." He shrugged. "Just be careful with the prickly bastards. Traditions, culture-they're all so fucking important when it's for their benefit, even if others get hurt by it."
"It sounds like you care," I said, sounding slightly amused.
"I care about keeping the people safe, and you're included in that list, wise-ass. Well, your teammates are. You can go throw yourself off a cliff for all that I care-"
Chez purred, and then calmly stood between the headmaster and me. "This is my piece of ass," she said plainly enough, without the barest inflection in her voice. "Find. Yourself. Another."
She revved her Alice precisely once.
"Understood?"
Qrow's howl of laughter was accompanied by my dreadful existential sigh.
Then Chez turned on me and pointed the edge of her chainsaw towards my neck. "And you! Stop getting headmasters hot and bothered! I can be your headmistress if you want me too!"
I pinched Chez' nose in reply, and then pulled her a bit to the right and a bit to the left. She groaned, her arms flailing around her as she playfully attempted to get me to stop. I did it for a couple of seconds, and proceeded to move my other hand to the back of her neck. The moment I grabbed hold of her neck and squeezed gently, she went limp just like a kitten would in its mother's jaws.
"So, as I was saying," I mused, utterly nonplussed. "Permission to initiate a shadow cabal of warriors for the sake of defending humanity from itself, sir?"
Qrow actually spat out a vast amount of alcohol from his mouth, eyes bug-wide, and then he screamed just like a shrieking bird would, "You damn bastard!" tears formed in his eyes the next instant.
"I will not be your Oz! Fucking fuck-" he slammed his right fist on the surface of the table. "Do whatever the hell you want, but don't come crying to me afterwards!"
I smiled. "Thank you, Drunkle Qrow."
Qrow's eyes narrowed. Then, he slowly stood up and grabbed hold of his weapon by his side.
We rushed out from there before he could put his silent, wordless threat out in the open.
The best way to deal with corruption was to see how far it spread...
...and in one fell swoop, cut it down to its roots.
Some people might argue that the true nature of man is clad in mystery, and uncertainty. Some might even go as far as muse that the world is either formed out of love, or out of hate. Truth be told, the world's made of two, or truly three, desires. Eat. Sleep. Fuck. The cynicism with which I thought wasn't truly tied to my real thoughts, but mostly to the vast mass of unwashed bastards that stood at the very bottom of the high-rise building I had scaled.
The problem with having a small white Nevermore linked to one's senses was indeed that of making you despise mankind in its entirety. I knew there was the good in there, but the negativity? While it wasn't strong for most of them, it was still present.
Street rats that lurked for food, for example, didn't feel as negatively tasty as a man thrown on the streets and suffering from hunger for the first time in his life. When you got used to your situation, you stopped feeling too bad about it, though another kind of negativity took the place of the first one.
There was a thirst in many a peddler's hearts. There was an anger in many a beggar's mind. There was jealousy, spite, but not hatred. Their lot in life was decided if not at birth, at the very least within the years of their youth. What can a child do, when one's father wastes away the family's money on drinks and whores? What can such an adult figure do, when all he has left is resentment for a situation he didn't ask for, and couldn't escape from?
That was the problem with Mistral. Many people suffered, and they accepted it. The flames of the revolution didn't burn, because they weren't there. The embers were covered in thick ashes, and there they would stay until someone stoked them.
And once they did, retribution would happen swiftly and mercilessly.
The lower classes are but rats clinging to our tables. We gave them tasty treats once and now we cannot get rid of them; an iron fist will solve the issue.
The white Nevermore shrieked like a hawk would, flying in lazy circles over a mansion built on the mountain side. The problem with Tyrian was that he wasn't hiding in the low city. It would have made sense for him to, but it was apparent he wasn't there. The smell of assassins was a peculiarly strong one, and yet it was the kind I had come to distinguish.
A murderer's uncaring attitude for life itself was a tangy, rotten smell like that of a cloyingly sweet orange left to rot in the air. My fingers clutched my forearms as the Nevermore shrieked again. The shrieks were a lure. Guards would look up and see a white bird. Tyrian would look up and see a Schnee Nevermore. Yet the shrieks didn't give me anything to work with. Perhaps the man wasn't afraid, but merely excited.
Excitement at murder wasn't negativity. A murderer's hidden guilt, now that was something I could track.
I could use a new concubine-who's got the prettiest daughter of my bodyguards? Ah, I know!
My eyes snapped carefully open.
The streets below me were bustling with people. The buildings reeked of a thick waft of regrets, bundled together with the lurking, ever-present knowledge that things wouldn't get any better but, hopefully, they wouldn't get any worse.
This level of filth was present everywhere, even in Atlas and Vale. Vacuo at least had the honesty of letting you fight freely in the streets for your ideals. Here it would just get you arrested.
"For a nation to function, its basic services must be guaranteed," I whispered. "The law must be swift, sure and punish people properly," the Nevermore moved away from the houses of the wealthy and flew towards the Mistral' barracks. Yet getting the police to work first would be unimportant, if a criminal being caught wouldn't get judged properly. Yet the police told me enough, and if not them, their darkest thoughts did.
The first path to acquiring influence and power was always to become friends with a judge and a lawyer. Then came the policemen and the tax accountant, but before all of them, the law had to be brought to one's side. And the chief of the Mistral police knew it very well.
He needs to stop shooting street rats from the window. Tell him once, tell him twice-we're lucky he's a poor shot...and the heir to the Breeze Trade Company. An image flashed through my mind.
I hopped down from the top of the building, letting gravity do its job as I stared deep below at a cart.
Inwardly, I gave a mental sigh of disbelief.
"Cabbages! Fresh cabbages!" the cabbage-merchant yelled while pulling his cart.
A Schnee Glyph shone briefly atop his cart, and I landed on it rather than on his produce. The man gasped, even as I waved at him and then hopped down with my feet on the streets of Mistral once more. "Have a nice day," I said cheerfully, waving the man goodbye before trudging through the crowd with a catchy tune in my throat. I needed some levity to get the thoughts out of my head.
"You shouldn't cheat on your boyfriend with the butcher, the wife knows and wants to talk," I said absentmindedly as I passed by a stall, the lady behind it blushing up a furious storm as a cranky old customer laughed. I rolled my eyes and moved on, the sickening lurch within my chest simmering down to nothingness as I saw people smile, a couple of kids playing with an impromptu ball made of hard leather, and then some chattering wives going about their business without much of a care in the world.
The Grimm-Sight, for that was what I was going to call it, showed me the negativity of people. It didn't show me a single speck of good in the world; it didn't allow me to understand or witness the beauty that there could be in friendships, in love, in laughter-and because of that, I had to douse myself in happiness just to get back to normal more often than not.
A lesser man would get buried under the negativity, but I was not a lesser man.
I had happy thoughts to concentrate on.
Happy, happy thoughts.
"Haven's academy is reopening-" my ears twitched at the conversation, "Thinking of sending your kid to try out?"
"And watch him die? Better off if he becomes a stall vendor like me," the man behind the stall in question grumbled back. "When stuff gets real bad, the guys up high will finally get off their asses and pay for extra protection. They can't get our taxes if we're dead."
"They might increase taxes, though," the customer grumbled.
"And we're not going to pay them," the stall vendor shrugged.
I chuckled as my steps brought me past the two, and into a side-alley. From there, it was just a matter of following the street up a tortuous path, and then come to a halt at a tall wall that split the lower and 'middle-ground' sectors. It was day and the wall's gates were open, the guards barely glancing at me as I walked through. I couldn't be anything other than a huntsman, and they weren't paid enough to bother the huntsmen coming and going through.
For the first time, there was no one stopping me as I amiably stepped into a side-alley and from there began to follow the tracks on the ground, until I came to a halt in front of a large square building that worked as both the barracks of the Mistral police and as the de-facto prison of the city. One would have expected it to be somewhere more secure, but there was an open doors policy for some of the criminals, apparently.
Amiably, I walked in.
"Hello," I said as the receptionist glanced at me, both eyebrows raised in puzzlement. Huntsmen rarely went to the police after all; if there was something a huntsmen couldn't solve, the police wasn't the first place to go.
"How may the Mistral police help you, sir?" the receptionist asked.
"Oh, well, I wanted to ask about bounties for potentially dangerous criminals-" I said, "I've seen there are quite a few missions to hunt them down, some pretty old too-are they still valid or..."
"The police doesn't handle such things," the receptionist acquiesced. "Whether a mission is still valid or not falls under the management of Haven's academy."
I placed an arm on the counter and looked at the woman in question, "I am one of the new professors of Haven Academy, and I would like to know how things work," I muttered, "So we do not step on anyone's toes. Are we clear, now, ma'am?"
The woman blinked. Then, she quietly nodded. "The chief will see you in a moment. Whom shall I announce?"
"Professor Wren Schnee," I said gently, a tender, loving Italian smile settling on my face before the ruthless Vacuo smile took over. The receptionist blinked, her eyes going to a mug on her table where the Schnee symbol was standing as proof of manufacturing. I placed an index finger on the counter, the Schnee Symbol happily materializing upon it.
"Chief," the woman said into the main reception phone, "Professor Schnee from Haven is here to see you-yes, that Schnee family."
She swallowed, and then attempted a gentle smile. "His office is at the end of the hallway to the right, M-Mister S-"
A lithe and nimble man arrived in a hurry, sweat pouring from his brows as his eyes glanced at me ever so briefly, a white hat covering his head. "Mister Schnee! Oh my, it's a pleasure to meet you!" his hands went for my right one, and he began to pull it up and down as if afraid I wasn't real. "We'll talk more in my office, Mister Schnee! It's private-it's better. It's this way-" he hastily guided me through the hallway as more than a few policemen took the time to look up from their desks to memorize my face.
His office was large, and reeked of a cloying sweet smell coming from a pipe on his desk. A cabinet filled with bottles of priceless alcohol stood in a corner, and the man hastened to offer me a seat while smiling brightly. "We didn't know someone as illustrious as yourself had come here, Mister Schnee."
"Please, Mister Schee is-was my father," I answered back. "Right now, I am here in an unofficial way, as a professor of Haven Academy interested in making sure everything runs smoothly. I don't want any toes to be squashed, or people to grow offended," I smiled. "That is why, I'd really love your cooperation-if you'd be willing to, of course."
"Certainly," the police chief said with a bright smile on his face. The plaque on his desk read Chief of Police Nezumi. And I raised an eyebrow as the man stood up once more to move to the liquor cabinet. "It's nice to know that there are still huntsmen who remember what it's like to be among men. You wouldn't know how glad I was when Headmaster Lionheart came to me the first time to tell me I had to stop sending missions his way. There was such an ungodly pressure from the families," he sighed. "But now that we can relax, everything's going smoothly. We arrest the random street rat, a murderer here and there, and everyone's quite happy with it. We could send a couple of those up to Haven, as missions," he smiled. "Provided there was some...financing."
"Financing isn't a problem," I said with a smile, "but you mentioned families, as in...more than one?" I furrowed my brows. "I am still new to Mistral, chief. If you could give me a hand, I would be incredibly thankful."
"Oh, of course, the police is here to serve," the man smiled looking quite pleased. "Yes, I have just the thing," Nezumi nodded, opening a drawer in his desk. "In confidence, we wouldn't be able to arrest them even if we wanted to; too much depends on them. We've got Little Miss Malachite, who's the leader of the Spider Family," a familiar face showed itself on a white and black photograph. She went as far as wink at the camera too. "Then we've got the Fish family led by Mister Tora," and with that he pulled out the picture of a big, stern-looking man with crimson skin and a green bandana. "And finally we have the Shrew family."
I blinked at that. Did someone seriously-Who would ever-
The picture showed a small man, a pair of thin mustache on his lips and extremely thick dark eyebrows. "Don't let the names fool you. They're pretty much a feature of the city by now; harmless if you follow their rules, but quite dangerous otherwise."
I smiled, and nodded, "I see." I clasped my fingers together, "One thing I find to be incredibly useful is to get off with the right foot, Chief Nezumi. I may end up having...hot-blooded students under me. They may cause damage to the city, maybe break this or that rule...most of them are street rats, but-we should talk business while we're at it."
Nezumi happily spoke business.
His words were relayed, word by word, from my Scroll not one hour later. The rest of my team was gathered, and Headmaster Qrow was there too, looking drunkenly at the wall as he took one final swig.
"Pretty much told you that if you pay enough, you can get away with murder," Qrow growled under his breath. "This-This wasn't what Leonardo was supposed to be doing here in Mistral! The bastard!" he craned his neck, "So, you brought this to my attention for what reason, brat?"
"Kill a snake, another takes is place," I pointed out. "Drown a nest, another will be made. We need the students to become efficient, functioning members of society and we need them to replace the current establishment. We can't topple the structure without having another one ready to take its place."
Qrow's eyebrows rose. "So what? You're planning on breaking down the government of Mistral? Shit, seriously?"
"No," I said, shaking my head. "Not the government. The law enforcement. We have people not getting arrested, we have policemen looking the other way-we have crimes left unsolved. I'd hit the tribunals first, but we don't have the time, nor the interest, to teach our students about law." I tapped my finger on the surface of his desk. "We need soldiers to protect the people from the Grimm. The Council of Mistral knows that. That's why they're not opposing us. With this stunt right here, they'll also shortly know we don't want to cause troubles and are willing to play the game, if we're allowed to continue."
Qrow sneered, "We got rid of one double-agent, what's one more, you might say?" he snickered at that, shaking his head. "Listen kiddo. I'm going to be frank. I'm not headmaster material. I'm a great teacher, kickass uncle, great when it comes to telling shit-faced children what they're doing right and what they're doing wrong, but finesse? Finesse's not my word. If you want to break some policemen face in, say the word, count me in. I'd do it gladly," he looked around, dropping his flask on the desk. "But it's like being a fucking juggler with balls that are covered in iron spikes. You keep everything in balance and it fucking hurts to."
He sighed, and placed his head on the surface of the desk. "The most important thing is to keep the city safe from the Grimm, brat. To keep the people safe. Burn down the police station for all that I care, but don't do it because it would make you feel better. Do it because it would make life better for the people."
I sighed and took a small breath, "There's also the matter of professor Vash-he hasn't come back yet."
"He's alive, if nothing else the bastard's tough to fucking kill," Qrow muttered. "Probably lost in some drunken stupor of sorts. And if not, I don't really care. He's from Atlas."
"Yeah, and we're from Atlas too," Zhelty pointed out. "So?"
"That's bullshit, kid," Qrow said, "You're from Vacuo. All of you. It's not what's written on a piece of paper that matters, but how you carry yourself." He shrugged. "Just be careful with the prickly bastards. Traditions, culture-they're all so fucking important when it's for their benefit, even if others get hurt by it."
"It sounds like you care," I said, sounding slightly amused.
"I care about keeping the people safe, and you're included in that list, wise-ass. Well, your teammates are. You can go throw yourself off a cliff for all that I care-"
Chez purred, and then calmly stood between the headmaster and me. "This is my piece of ass," she said plainly enough, without the barest inflection in her voice. "Find. Yourself. Another."
She revved her Alice precisely once.
"Understood?"
Qrow's howl of laughter was accompanied by my dreadful existential sigh.
Then Chez turned on me and pointed the edge of her chainsaw towards my neck. "And you! Stop getting headmasters hot and bothered! I can be your headmistress if you want me too!"
I pinched Chez' nose in reply, and then pulled her a bit to the right and a bit to the left. She groaned, her arms flailing around her as she playfully attempted to get me to stop. I did it for a couple of seconds, and proceeded to move my other hand to the back of her neck. The moment I grabbed hold of her neck and squeezed gently, she went limp just like a kitten would in its mother's jaws.
"So, as I was saying," I mused, utterly nonplussed. "Permission to initiate a shadow cabal of warriors for the sake of defending humanity from itself, sir?"
Qrow actually spat out a vast amount of alcohol from his mouth, eyes bug-wide, and then he screamed just like a shrieking bird would, "You damn bastard!" tears formed in his eyes the next instant.
"I will not be your Oz! Fucking fuck-" he slammed his right fist on the surface of the table. "Do whatever the hell you want, but don't come crying to me afterwards!"
I smiled. "Thank you, Drunkle Qrow."
Qrow's eyes narrowed. Then, he slowly stood up and grabbed hold of his weapon by his side.
We rushed out from there before he could put his silent, wordless threat out in the open.
The best way to deal with corruption was to see how far it spread...
...and in one fell swoop, cut it down to its roots.
Fragnostic
Cheshire
- Location
- Neko City
From One Piece? Cause he was bought off... oh.
Led by Mr. Big perhaps? And employing a fox faunus named Nicholas Wilde? Whose involved with a cop rabbit faunus named... Judy Hopps?
The Mistral chapter of the Ozluminati. The Qrowluminati, if you will.
The brotherhood grows! Now go out there and grab some recruits from the streets!
- Location
- Texas, United States
I like the name Ozluminati. Though, IlluminOzti is up there too.
Also, how on earth did Qrow's semblance let him be lucky enough to have shade help him? No way he could admin this by himself
- Location
- Up there somewhere. (Im a bit lost)
It's bad luck Qrow has to work with Wren because Wren's favorite pass time is trolling the drunkard.
Dybbukpossesed
Falling Somewhere
- Location
- California
Thank you so much! I thought I recognized him but I couldn't remember what he was from!
Burn it all to the ground!
(I'd go with the classic "kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out!" but
FarmerKyle
Reaping what I Sow
- Location
- Out in the Fields
His description reminds me more of the Nezumi from Full Metal Alchemist, the corrupt official from the coal mining town, and who's later shown among the Ishbalen refugees.
Finally caught up with all the Wren stories, and I love what you're doing shadenight!
Fragnostic
Cheshire
- Location
- Neko City
The name Ozluminati has been coined by the FNDM quite a while ago. It's quite clever.
Also, can Qrow's semblance be fooled by doing something considered unlucky on purpose? Maybe that's why Wren is doing all this stuff, to simulate misfortune?
To be fair, I think it's a... stereotype in Japanese culture that a person named Nezumi (Rat) is a shifty sellout. So One Piece might be just one of the examples.
- Location
- Somewhere with a Thousand Watchful Eyes
- Pronouns
- They/Them
I think you mean...
"The brotherhood crows!"
Ayyyyy, good nite, everybody!
- Location
- Not Entirely Here
Typo:
Shouldn't this be its??
- Location
- Florida
I'm more worried about the Italian smile, truth be told.