Author's Disclaimer: HARQ is a fanwork of the Rooster Teeth Animated Production RWBY. All characters from the original cast of RWBY are owned by Rooster Teeth.

Special thanks to eliort on DeviantArt for their art contribution. Thanks to Hector for Editing.

...

Tin Steadfast woke in the middle of the night grasping at a twisting burn in his left leg. A second of blind groping reminded him that he had nothing there below his thigh. He sat up, hunched in the dark for a long minute, before feeling out the lamp on the bed stand next to him.

"Goddamnit!" He squeezed his eyes shut, used muscle memory to slide open a drawer, and pulled out a handheld mirror. He scooted to the edge of his bed and settled his right leg firmly on the shack floors.

"Blasted magic trick," he groaned, voice pitching as he leaned forward and strained his back, "more trouble than it's worth."

He passed the mirror slowly up and down his right leg, beyond where his left should've been. Slowly, the pain began to recede as some detached part of his brain imagined his body whole again. Tin sighed and smiled.

"Well," he muttered, "maybe just worth it." He flicked off the lamp and laid back in bed, listening to the night bugs in the desert valley outside. On the edge of sleep, he noticed light seeping in from under his bedroom door. Someone was downstairs.

Hunter instincts took over. He shot up and faced the door, one hand slipping behind his headboard to grasp the handle of a trusted revolver. He'd become duller than he'd thought if someone could waltz into his house without waking him.

He thumbed back on the hammer and let out his best threat.

"Whoever's playing games out there," he growled, his throat skinned by years worth of tobacco, "you get out of my house or I shoot!"

There was utter silence from beyond the door. He considered options. Maybe he'd fire the gun out his window and put some real terror in the intruder.

"I heard you come in, you dumbass, and I gave you ten minutes to scurry off, but now your times up!" Another long silence followed.

"No you didn't," a familiar voice called out, "I've been here an hour already, Huntmaster." Tin slid the hammer back into place and returned his gun back to its holster. He sat in bed for a moment, seething, before he hurled his pillow at the door. He went for the aluminum crutches in their resting spot on his right side. His fingers knocked them to the floor.

"Buzzard's guts!" He leaned, too far, and tumbled out of bed. His aura flared around him in a smokey-silver wave of color that spared him any injury.

"I'm fine," he shouted to his unwelcome guest, "don't help me!"

"I wasn't going to," she said. Tin righted himself after a minute of struggle and slid his wrists into place. He swung himself to the door and put on his ugliest scowl before opening it.

"Raven," he grumbled, taking in the sight of a lone Huntress at his one-person table. She was still dressed in her field gear, sans the menacing white helmet, and was seated in one of two plastic rolling chairs at his table. One was serving as a footrest for her right foot. Tin glared at an empty Ming's Pale Ale bottle on the table and another slowly emptying in her hand.

"Oh, by all means," he groaned, moving slowly into the large single room outside his bedroom. It was his kitchen, lounge, and main entryway all at once. "Make yourself right at home. Have a drink."

"I did," she said, gesturing to the ales, "your supply is due for restock. Stuff tastes like bottled bread."

"What are you doing here?" He held back a groan when he saw her a twinkle in her eyes, like a pair of garnets.

"Hmm.. Maybe I'm the Summer Maiden," she said playfully, " come to tell you I'm looking for my sisters and wanted to stop in at your hut."

"Cut the crap! It's goddamn three in the goddamn morning!" His voice thundered throughout the shack. Raven winced and made a show of cleaning out one ear.

"I'm only here because Vulp Derryo said you wanted to see me when I got back to the Den."

"And did they say I was answering midnight visitors as well, Hunter Branwen?" The women gave a shrug and took another sip of his beer. He went to the fridge and rummaged around for a Ming's of his own, swearing again when he knocked a bottle to the kitchen floor.

"Don't help me!"

"Don't worry, I won't," Raven said, watching him over her shoulder, past her long black locks.

"Damnation."

"Such language, Tin, what would your mentor say if she caught you swearing like a soldier?" Tin used the counter to lever himself back up, drink in hand, and then used it again to crack off the cap. After a draw, he answered.

"She'd say nothing if I remember old Bo Brindle right. She'd give me a few knocks on the head for it and leave it at that. A sort of teaching that's woefully out of style nowadays." Raven drowned a snort of laughter in another sip of ale.

"Like you'd hit a child, Tin Steadfast," she said, "the moon would reform first."

"You're not a child, Raven," he said.

"Compared to you, old man, everyone is a still a child," she said, smiling when Tin couldn't keep a straight face.

"Alright, kid, you win," he said, "no more banter or wordplay. Really, you've one-upped me…this time. Now, I did want to see you when you got in, though I figured we'd meet when the sun was in the sky."

"Well it's morning in Atlas about now," she said, smirking around the bottle. "That good enough?"

"All right, enough with that!" Tin held up his hand and calmed himself. He went to his chair, shaking it until Raven moved her foot.

"I'm on vacation for the week," he said, "Vulp gets all clenched up if I'm still hanging around before initiation results come in…"

"Well, you do get antsy about all the little Huntlings we manage to net. I'll grant Vulp that much." Tin's face scrunched up.

"I know," he began again with some effort, "which is why I take the vacation and use it to think about the big 'five-year plan' announcements and such. The other day I came to a few hard conclusions, and…"

"And one of the schools has to close." Tin's fist slammed onto the table. Raven's empty bottle jolted and rolled over the edge. She snatched it out of the air in a deft motion.

"Would you stop doing that? Yes! Yes! One of the schools needs to close and I wasn't lucky enough to die before it happened! So now…now I gotta make a choice. And I haven't even begun to come up with which one or why, but I wanted to ask you when you got back. I wanted to get your read on…"

"Beacon." Tin turned red and his whole body shook with anger, but a second later he deflated and slumped into his chair.

"That wasn't even my question. But… Beacon? Your old school? Raven, I know better than anyone the crap you were going through there, but why Beacon?" Raven rolled her eyes at the hurt in the old man's voice.

"Four Hunters, trained as a team, are not necessarily better than one. That's all Beacon claims to have on anyone else."

"Crap," Tin said. He looked at her with mild disappointment. "Crap and you know it. Don't feed me that old line. I've got a great example of a Beacon grad who works better than most other school's. She broke into my house and stole two of my beers. And didn't bother wiping off her grimy boots before marching around my kitchen, by the way! All in the middle of the night, too." Raven kept a cool face.

"I'm good, Tin, I know that. But I work best alone, and my team…well, think about my team for a moment." She watched him twist and squirm on his own hook for a few seconds before he nodded.

"Alright, but…but that was a special case. And there are other people who do just fine going solo. And when a Beacon team gets back together to tackle something, you can count the day saved." Raven shrugged and finished her drink.

"Second choice," Tin said at once, "pretend Beacon's off the table." The Huntress made a face as she started her second ale.

"Spotlight then," she said.

"Aw, Raven," Tin groaned, "you're killing me with this! Not Spotlight! That school always gets the bad word from people who didn't go there. Some of the best Hunters of our order came from that school, but it's always the unwanted stepchild of every conversation. You know, Bard Avon's doing things with dust at that school that would make your head spin, Raven Branwen, and…" Tin trailed off at the flat look Raven was giving him. He scratched his wrinkled chin.

"Bard has taken way too many liberties with the 'art-school weapons development' stuff for my tastes, Tin. He should be training Hunters, first and foremost, and I don't trust him to roll the rest back. A school like that needs to justify itself in the best of times, so why keep it open in the worst? It'll make any other choice seem inane by comparison. Form follows function, Tin."

"One more, please, I'm begging you, Raven, give me any other school assuming…"

"Signal," she said, her voice carrying a sharp edge. She was getting visibly exhausted with this game. Tin pulled a few faces like he was constipated and Raven stopped holding back.

"What, Tin? What now?! Just say it!"

"James has worked hard," he roared, "he has done his best to keep a solid number of graduates each year. Some go to the military, I know, that was the devil's bargain we had to make, but…"

"Some? It was one in thirty back at the start, Tin, and how many is it now?" Raven leaned forward like a vulture over a dying man.

"Maybe three in thirty." Tin scratched his chin once more, looking away.

"That's one in ten, Tin, and it will get worse. Give Signal up, like you should have done back when we made a 'devil's bargain', and move on. It does produce good hunters, but it doesn't produce only Hunters. It's a gangrenous limb. Cut it off, or give it the care it needs. And don't ask me for another recommendation."

"I'm sorry," Tin begged. He looked over his shoulder into a small den with a moth-eaten rug between an easy-chair and an out of date television. Above them was a wall of pictures. The whole side of the house was taken up by photographs from 73 years of Tin Steadfast's life.

There was the black-and-white photo of his Grandpappy holding him when Tin was three. Not far from that one he stood next to a smiling graduate, little blonde-haired Hunig Geat, who today was Headmaster of Haven Academy. A recent digital photo displayed, in startling colors, a hike he'd taken with Vulp Derryo to the top of Mount Geb on the Valley's northern edge when the sky was deep blue and the noon sun made the valley glow. In a place of honor, by the front door to be seen first coming in and last leaving was a wedding photo of a pink-haired woman and one-legged man that always made Tin touch his ring-finger.

At the heart of all those moments was a photo of a Faunus woman and man with the ears of wolves. They had their arms around a young man with jet black hair and two working legs. It was the last photo the Brindle Siblings took together. The dates were always fuzzy for Tin now, but he remembered that exactly five months after that picture the Hunter Schism would begin.

"Huntmaster? Grumpy old Wizard? Tin!" Raven stood and yelled at him at last.

"What? What?" Tin blinked at her frantically for a moment, remembering where he was.

"You got lost in the old days, looks like," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Get off my back, Raven, I'm old. I've got more past than future at this point," he mumbled.

"So what's your plan, Tin?" she asked as she took back her seat. The old Hunter stared at his calloused hands and gave a tired shrug.

"Maybe it's time I step down," he said, heaving a big sigh, "finally let someone else take over. Somebody who can make these tough choices."

"Tin Steadfast, I'll kill you if you ask me to take over the Hunters." At that, Tin burst into laughter so raucous that Raven began to take offense.

"Sorry, it's just…Elder Brother be good," he said with a chuckle, "the pushback I'd get for that is almost worse than closing a school." Raven, surprised at how sour that made her feel, grunted in response. Tin caught her mood as his laughter subsided.

"Hey," Tin boomed as he pointed a finger at her firmly, "you nevermind them, Raven Branwen. You're damn good at killing Grimm, and you mostly make good decisions. That's all any Hunter can be asked to do. You've got a good head on your shoulders. You must, you're so damn headstrong all the time."

"I thought we were through with wordplay?" Raven's frown remained but there was a touch of mischief in her voice once again.

"I'm the Huntmaster," Tin said, winking, "I get to break my own rules." That brought a little smile to her sharp features.

"We really are kids to you, aren't we, Tin? Still trying to keep us from talking bad about each other and getting caught up in little fights. Talking to us like we're in the principal's office. A principal's office with beer."

"Everyone's still the kid they used to be deep down," Tin said, "Bo told me that once. You remind me of her sometimes." Raven smiled and shook her head as she heard the comparison made for the hundredth time.

"Did Bo Brindle really talk in all these platitudes, Tin? Or is she how you test your new ideas for quotes?" Tin drew himself up proudly and crossed his arms. His beer was finished and he had a healthy glow in his cheeks.

"She was the wisest woman I ever knew, Raven, and…"

"She wanted you to lead after her," Raven said, "so no more talk about quitting. What'll you do about the schools?" Tin sighed heavily but remained rigid in his chair.

"One must close so the others live. At least for another few years, based on Derryo's projections. They're rarely off the mark on these things. But the question I had for you was regarding one-on-one mentorship. The 'old way'. You've got the most experience of it." Tin paused and looked at Raven askance.

"Where is your apprentice? Resting?" Raven waved her hand at him like he was a great big gnat.

"Oh, Tin, my apprentice isn't being kept up by anything. Sleeping like a baby at the Lodge, I insisted on it. We leave first thing in the morning, the two of us." She narrowed her eyes at him when his face took on a sad, disappointed caste.

"In and out in the span of a night, hmm? Like some kid tagging a cop-car? You should at least wash your clothes before you head out, Raven." The Huntress' face reminded him vaguely of the professors he'd ride with backtalk at Starlight. What should have been a lifetime ago. There was a silence for a while before Tin made a gamble and said what he'd been holding back.

"You should visit Qrow." Raven's face turned blank from surprise. "Y'know, he wouldn't say it, but it hurts him when you pretend he doesn't exist." Raven leaped from her chair without a word and marched for the front door.

"Raven?" he called after her. No answer. "Lets not… Can we….? Stop acting like a damn teenager, you fool!" He rose from his chair and felt his crutch get tangled in his legs. A second later he was sprawled across the floor, cheek pressing into the cool tiles of the kitchen floor, no Aura catching him this time.

She darted over to where he lay. He snarled at her as she reached for his shoulders, face contorted in fury.

"Goddamnit, don't help me!" She backed up and watched him struggle to his feet, disheveled but unharmed. He set one hand on the table and slid the other into a crutch.

"He's your family, Raven," Tin went on, "and considering nobody knows where on Remnant your daughter-"

"Don't!" Raven roared.

Tin's mouth twisted back and forth, annoyed one moment and concerned the next. It was beginning to burn her up, seeing the worry in his eyes.

"Alright," he said, "alright, Raven, fine. So the 'old way'. Some kids are going to be left floating in the wind by this, no two ways about it, and I'm trying to find a way to mitigate the impact. Maybe a few juniors spend their last year with senior Hunters and learn the tricks of the trade straight on."

"My apprentice is gifted, and a special case," Raven said, her voice was clipped and she made no move to settle into a seat, "and therefore a poor comparison."

"Right, fine," Tin nodded rapidly, trying to finish his thought, "but if we had to do it for a whole class, could it work?" Raven took a long minute to mull over the thought.

"Potentially, I think it could work for a junior class. But some of the students will have to repeat years at a new school." Tin grimaced at her answer.

"There'll be a hiccup in the graduation rates for a year, then." He rubbed his knee on the spot that hit the floor, cradling a shallow bruise.

"That's the toll we pay to cross this river. They'll have an extra year of training. Maybe look at it that way if it helps. Either way, just do it."

"Thank you," he finally said, "and now I'd ask you to keep this whole thing quiet as a dead man's laugh. I know I can trust you, but I'm being extra cautious. The rumor mill is already ahead of me. They might be grinding out word of a closing, but by the Elder Brother and the Younger Brother, I will not let this get far. I'll tell the Heads when I feel like the time is right, and not a moment before."

"They'll still start jockeying," Raven said.

"I'll travel the world and thump each of them on their heads if that happens, but until then, 'sinking ships loosen lips' or whatever that phrase was."

Raven glared. Tin simply stared at the picture of himself and the Brindle Siblings at the center of his wall, lost in thought.

"Anything else?"

"Qrow made a full year sober three weeks ago," Tin said, a smile touching his lips, "first full year clean since…well, you asked me not to bring her up…but since that particular parting when he fell off the wagon." Raven held back another urge to bolt.

"A year," she said, "that must have been hard." Raven's face softened a little.

"Gardening keeps him occupied I think," Tin replied, "and he's strong. Strong like his sister." Raven turned on her heel and walked to the door.

"Hang on now," Tin barked, hobbling after her.

"What, Tin?" She turned to find his right hand extended toward her. An old farewell gesture. She spotted his tattoo of Starlight's symbol, a bow about to lose a shooting star like an arrow, etched in his muscular forearm.

"Goodbye, Raven Branwen, and be safe until we meet again," he said. She hesitated a moment, then took hold of his forearm in a sturdy grip.

"Until we meet again, Tin Steadfast," she began, "and remember, don't let sentiment cloud your judgment. What must be done, must be done."

"I'll try. Even if it kills me, I'll try," he paused, then gave her a grin, "now, young lady, you best get back to class. And remember... Principal Steadfast's door is always open."

As she went out his door and slowly through the dark, desert valley of the Hunters Den, she glanced back at the little hut. The shack was surrounded by the shadowed mountain range, the sky slowly turning to navy blue, and the twinkling yellow glow of lightning bugs. His vacation hut was not so much a home as it was a roof and a bed tucked into a vast landscape he could lose himself inside.

She drew in the smell of the valley's wild sage wet with morning dew as she sighed heavily, then silently cursed herself. There was no good reason to have woke him at such an unreasonable hour. To her relief, she saw the light go out in his kitchen window and, a moment later, his bedroom.

Get some sleep, old man. Kids or grown-ups, we all need you a bit longer.

She turned towards the lodge, a mighty silhouette of a complex at the far end of the valley, and began the march toward her own bed.

...

Editor Note:

All forms of feedback are welcome, so please leave a review if you like. This story will upload new chapters on a weekly basis, so check back next Sunday for an update. Thank you for reading!