The Great War of Remnant

Prologue: Maidens

Fang cursed. Mistral was too bloody cold. Even if he pulled his hood up, snow somehow still got into his hair. Then, the fine particles would melt and then refreeze into ice. What a shitty assignment. How was he supposed to find the Maiden if his eyelashes were frozen together? Rackon, his underling, stood next to him bow in hand. He was a good kid, seventeen years old and probably one of the best fighters at the Academy. Fang had at first been vehemently opposed to a partner, especially one who was still studying at the Academy, but the General convinced him to watch Rackon fight. Fang couldn't believe it. The sixteen year-old was probably on the same level as him, and he had been a Huntsman for ten years. That was only six months ago.

They had been partnered ever since then. Rackon was good, but naïve and inexperienced. He almost died once when he forgot he was an archer and jumped into a melee fight with a huge Geist possessing a thicket of poisonous vines, trying to distract it so the eight year old boy and his mother could get away. After that, he had spent almost two weeks out on a hospital bed, moaning about his skin peeling off. Past that, he hadn't done anything too crazy. However, Rackon was dating a Faunus right now, and Fang didn't know what to think about that. Fang was a Faunus himself and he just couldn't see the relationship working. The poor boy would need more exposure to the world, and know more about the discrimination against the Faunus. When Fang visited Vale without his bowler hat to cover his wolf ears, they wouldn't let him sit at the café, but insist on serving him take-away coffee in paper cups.

Rackon, who had nodded off a half an hour ago, had woken again. Crawling next to Fang, he began to speak.

'We should take shifts so one of us can rest.'

'No.'

'…All right. But you've been up for almost eighteen-'

'I've been up for longer. If you want a proper break Rackon, go have one. Just get me some jerky and a hot choc when you wake up.'

'Ah, you know I feel guilty for letting you take watch-'

'I know. But we're going after a Maiden, and if we miss her, the General's gonna whip me raw.'

'But c'mon, are you telling me there's gonna be more than one young woman visiting an inn like this? In the middle of nowhere? By herself?'

Fang looked at Rackon and laughed. It didn't really suit him to laugh.

'I know you're not blind. You picked up a pretty hot chick.'

Rackon's entire face turned red, so red in fact that Fang was worried about the contrast against the snow.

'All right Rackon. Calm down before you blow our camouflage. The Maiden might be here, and if she is, we gotta find her.'

Finding the new Maiden was their latest assignment. They had already been in Mistral for a month by now, searching the major cities, bribing bureaucrats and visiting the black market. The pair easily ruled out the City of Mistral; any strange occurrences there would spook the authorities and a man-hunt would be issued. After a tip-off from the General, the pair headed north to Windpath, and continued further to the villages. Snow had begun to fall by then. Rackon began to ask more and more questions about the Maidens, so Fang had to explain on the way.

Maidens were beings of extreme and inexplicable power, but their origins and numbers were in question. What was known by going through the records was that the Maiden's powers had four main categories, which the Academy labelled as Life, Heat, Wind and Frost. It was unknown how a person acquired the power of a Maiden, only that it could manifest itself in young girls, thus the term "Maiden". However, if their powers fell into the wrong hands, they could be used as human weapons.

That was the general gist. Riverton Academy was currently keeping tabs on one other Maiden, whose affinity was Wind.

Fang's thoughts were interrupted by a flash of light. A young woman had stepped out of the inn, and a ball of energy was coalescing between her forefinger and thumb. An unnatural cold, one which pierced the bones and seeped into the joints radiated from the woman. Three people stood in front of her, weapons drawn. From Fang's hiding place, they were side on. He could tell they were professionals, from their gear to their balance.

"Rackon, take the one on the left when I go in."

Fang dashed around the right, flanking the men from behind. He pushed back his cape and deployed his weapon. A blade came out from under his cape and unfolded, attaching to the gauntlet on his right hand. The blade extended until it was about a metre past his hand, stopping with a soft metallic clink. He burst forth like a shadow taking form. The three men were engaging the young lady, but she was keeping them at bay with flashes of light. Perhaps they were distracted, but they did not hear him until it was too late.

Rackon watched as his master ran around the clearing. He readied his bow and pulled back on the taut bowstring. A spiral of Dust appeared, and like particles crystallising, formed a red arrow. He was proud of his weapon; he had made the bow himself. It was elegantly shaped, and had a rotating cartridge at the grip which allowed him to change the type of dust used for the arrows.

His master came out from behind the men, around thirty metres away. Any normal man would have taken a couple of seconds to close the distance, but it only took his master a little over one. Rackon smiled. There was no way the men (despite being professionals) could have heard him coming; his master's Semblance controlled vibrations in a small area around himself, and thus he could nullify the sound before it reached them. Rackon allowed his arrow to fly forth, hitting the man on the left on the back of the head. The man's aura must have been depleted, as the arrow entered at the base of the neck without resistance. The red dust heated up and disintegrated the man, until only ashes remained. His arms fell away, and continued to burn up until only the hands were left. The last would-be assassin turned around, the scarf dropping off of her face. Confronting her new opponents turned out to be a fatal mistake as the Maiden launched a powerful blast of cold light, and her limp body was blown out of the clearing and into the trees.

Erisar strode towards the General's office with a folder filled with memos in one arm and a cup of cold-dripped coffee in his other hand. He was a boy of sixteen, and wore a soft brown tunic over a white linen shirt and brown pants. His dark brown hair went slightly past his shoulders, on which was draped a long black cloak which pooled on the ground whenever Erisar stood still. He used his foot to nudge the General's door open and placed the coffee and folder onto his desk.

Riverton Academy was situated on the southern coast of the Unknown Continent, which was on the top left on a map of Remnant and above Vytal. To Erisar, the location made sense. Although for others it was a source of pain, due to the long travel times needed to visit family over the school holidays, Erisar saw the importance of neutrality. Furthermore, they could train wherever they wanted as the Unknown Continent was uninhabited and filled with Grimm. As he turned around, a man with silver hair stood at the door, wearing a tight white shirt and matching suit pants. Even his tie and belt were white to compliment his hair.

'Ah Eri, thanks for these. Good timing, I wanted to talk to you about your next assignment.'

'When is it, General?'

'Shouldn't you ask "What is it" first?'

'Ok, what-'

'But you asked "When" first because you've got a partner for the dance tomorrow night, right lad?'

Erisar couldn't find a better description for the General's eyes than sparkling. He was a shrewd man. The hem of Erisar's cloak twitched as he avoided the General's gaze.

'No. I don't. I was just looking forward to some time off.'

'Hahaha! Don't worry lad. You can leave the next day. Just don't drink too much.'

'I won't General. So what did you want me to do?'

The General straightened his back and clasped his hands behind his back. Erisar knew these as the telltale signs of him being completely serious.

'I know you're good friends with Rackon, from the year above. I let him graduate two years early because he was good enough.'

'…And what does that have to do with me?'

'If you can do this assignment, I'll let you graduate when you return.'

Erisar was stumped. Although he was an extremely talented fighter with a strong aura, Erisar still viewed himself as a child who needed guidance and nowhere near a Huntsman. He did not have the experience, nor was he prepared for the position. Before he could speak, the General spoke once more.

'The delegates of Mantle and the delegates of Mistral are attending a meeting together. They requested Riverton Academy's presence at the negotiations.'

That made sense to Erisar. After all, this was why he was hesitant to becoming a Huntsman early. After all, Huntsmen weren't just romantics who sang about their achievements in slaying the Grimm. No, they were guardians, people respected for their fair judgement and unclouded minds. Because of their neutrality, they often served as mediators. For Mantle and Mistral to ask for Huntsmen, they must be seeking a political mediator. So this was the test – to see if he was able to not only handle fighting, but also maintaining peace.

'Of course, you won't be by yourself, Erisar. Fang and Rackon are in Mistral right now. You will be meeting up with them. However, you will be acting as the head mediator.'

'What are they doing in Mistral?'

'I'm sorry, that's classified. Give this letter to Fang when you meet up with him. It explains everything. Oh and if they're with a girl you don't know, don't ask too many questions.'