The Ringed City is pretty good. It adds the Ruin helm, and some other stuff.
All hail Chariotdude.
"He's had a good start," said Gough.
Ciaran looked up from her notepad. Artorias was sparring with a man in heavy black armour, the greatsword in his hand nearly as long as Artorias was tall, and with a rectangular shield stretching from the ground up to his shoulder. The man in black cut an imposing figure, but the wolf danced around him effortlessly, a wild grin on his face. He hadn't drawn his dagger, instead wielding his greatsword deftly in his right hand and grappling, punching, and pulling with his left.
"He's not trying," she said.
"He doesn't have to," shrugged Gough. It wasn't said judgementally, not at all. It was a statement of fact.
Ciaran returned to her notes. She was brainstorming a way to have the more headstrong members of her team, Artorias and Gilderoy, put their differences aside. They were only third year students, true, but graduation was creeping up on them faster than they seemed to realise.
She didn't want it all to end when they left Shade.
So far, the plan, if it could be called that, was to corner them at the dance and lock them in a room together until they sorted it out – possibly prefaced with a heartfelt, well-prepared speech. The dance was still a couple of weeks away, but it was the perfect opportunity, a night of friendship and high spirits. If there was one night that they'd be willing to give it a go, it was then.
Artorias was unbelievably stubborn when it came Gilderoy's military ambitions, but they could usually tiptoe around that one. The big problem, the irreconcilable difference, was Smough.
Smough had been horrible to Artorias when they'd first arrived at Shade. Artorias hadn't let it get him down, of course – the threats, the names, the occasional violent outburst – but he always gave as good as he got. Back then, Artorias would do anything to Smough – anything short of instigating the fights himself, at least. He still got a few detentions.
Eventually, Smough moved on to torment easier targets. It was probably at Gilderoy's request – it was when they started dating that he eased up on Artorias – but their wills still clashed on a regular basis. Artorias would step in to stop Smough whenever he tried to mess with other students, especially fellow faunus. Artorias found himself in a teacher's office at least once a fortnight, in those days.
But he always got detention with Professor June, which he didn't mind – or so he claimed. Smough, on the other hand, served detention with Professor Brim: an intelligent man and an excellent teacher, to be sure, but he was quite the bore.
It was obvious the faculty knew about Smough's racist tendencies, otherwise they wouldn't inflict Brim's unique brand of punishment upon him. But they'd never had the cause to take a more serious action until he'd attacked Quelaan.
The twins Quelaag and Quelaan were faunus – from the waist down, they had the bodies of spiders. Easy targets for a racist. Quelaag shied away from her heritage, preferring to make herself as scarce and as normal as possible.
Quelaan, on the other hand, revelled in it. She'd scared the other first years on orientation day by pretending that a massive spider was eating her. She'd filled the locker of her older sister Quelana with cobwebs on multiple occasions. She'd even done it to Ciaran once, mistaking her locker for Artorias' (she'd apologised profusely when she'd realised her mistake).
Then, one day, a few weeks into the semester, Gough had walked into Team Gwyn's dorm, and though Ciaran couldn't place it, something felt… off. He was silent, unnaturally so – he would often hum a little tune to himself, or be accompanied by the soft sound of a knife scraping against wood, but on that day, he was silent.
She'd asked him what had happened.
He'd muttered something unintelligible. Artorias. Smough. The spider twins.
She'd asked again.
Smough had goaded Quelaan into a fight in the courtyard. He had three years of experience on her. It had been doomed from the start. But he'd taken it too far. She was in a coma. Most of her legs were broken. Her ribs too. One arm had been dislocated. Then Artorias had arrived on the scene and stopped Smough.
At that point in the story, Artorias returned to the dorm. His aura must have been drained in the fight, for his lip was split and beneath a ragged hole in the side of his jerkin, grazed skin slowly leaked blood. He didn't say a word – just went to change into a clean shirt.
"He could have killed her," Gough had said, wringing his hands. That poor, innocent girl, full of love and life and cheeky mirth, brought low by his brother – a cruel, vindictive man who Gough couldn't quite give up on.
"But he didn't," Gilderoy had said. He'd been there, in the corner, doing his homework like a good little student – but listening, the whole time. His face had been blank. Emotionless.
A mask.
But he'd said it anyway.
Artorias had looked colder than he ever had before, a vision of stone and rage. But still, he'd kept his silence, directing one disappointed glare at his leader before storming off again.
It was another week before Quelaan had woken up. For her own safety, she'd chosen to drop out of Shade and return home to Izalith until she recovered. Professor June told her she was guaranteed a place in the school, whenever she felt ready to return.
"You have your thinking face on," said Gough, startling her from the memory. "What's going on?"
"Do you find the idea of me thinking odd?" she teased.
"Perhaps," Gough chuckled. "My question stands."
Ciaran mentally shrugged. Why not? "Do you know if Artorias is going to the dance with anyone?"
Gough raised an eyebrow. "It's a bit early to be thinking about the dance."
"But do you know?"
"He's not shown interest in anyone."
Ciaran nodded. It would be easier to get Artorias and Gilderoy together if she wasn't pulling them away from anyone, but she could work around it anyway – if she knew who she was dealing with. But she still had to plan for Gilderoy as well…
"Oh, are you going with anyone Gil?" she asked.
"No," he said curtly. Ciaran nodded in understanding – Smough, of course, was back in Vacuo. Gilderoy was the easier target, then – he'd probably spend his time standing awkwardly in the corner with Gough.
"How about you, Ciaran?" asked Gough, an uncharacteristically cheeky smirk on his face. What's going through that head of yours, big man? "Anyone take your fancy? You are going to leave the dorm for once, right?"
"I leave the dorm plenty, thank you very little. But… I don't really know anyone."
"Sure you do," Gil said. Ciaran didn't miss how his eyes met Gough's, just for a moment. What are you two up to?
Gilderoy didn't elaborate.
Gilderoy's easy enough, when I ask him to do something he usually does it. Artorias is the hard one – maybe if I rant at him for a while?
That rarely works. Right.
So maybe I just wait for Artorias to isolate himself, then drag Gil over to him? No, that's leaving too much to chance.
Maybe I can just invoke a 'no-questions-asked' with Wolfy.
I've got time. I'll figure it out.
"Artorias Nym wins," Professor Goodwitch said, interrupting her train of thought. The wolf was helping his fallen opponent to his feet. Once they were both up, Artorias offered to shake hands, and the other man took up the offer.
"Mr Nym, I'll be sure to match you against more assertive opponents in the future."
"I'm offended, Professor," he said, his eyes widening in mock horror and his ears drooping to the sides, "I worked hard for that victory." He grinned at his opponent, who responded by rolling his eyes.
Goodwitch just glared at him.
"I'll just… go then?"
"That would be best, Mr Nym. And Mr Tarkus, I understand that you act as a bulwark for your team, but it would be prudent to hone your offensive capabilities for one-on-one combat."
He nodded, and left the arena.
"I'm afraid we're out of time for today. Remember, it's important to put work in outside of class as well as in class. Don't slack off in your free time. Class dismissed."
"So, waddaya think?" Artorias said, sauntering over to his team.
"You have a massive ego," drawled Ciaran.
"Thanks C," Artorias said, bowing dramatically. "Any actual criticism from the audience? Always looking to improve and all that." Ciaran rolled her eyes. He was just trying to provoke them.
Hopefully, Gil wouldn't take the bait.
Gough shook his head, smiling and started making his way to the exit. Gil gave Artorias one look, then said, "You still got the dust?"
"Yup." Artorias patted a pouch on his belt.
"Learn to use it."
"Ah! Dust! My one weakness," Artorias laughed, a grin on his face. "But I'll have you know, I'm an apt dust mage these days."
"Oh? How would you imbue your weapon with burn dust?"
Artorias frowned dramatically in thought, holding up a finger. "With my fist?" he guessed.
Gilderoy sighed, and turned to follow Gough.
"You know, criticism is overrated. I prefer your special brand of praise, Ciaran."
"It wasn't- you know, nevermind."
Artorias laughed again – he was certainly in good spirits, but he often was after sparring, especially when he won (which was often). He slung an arm around her, pulling her close to his side. "You're learning, C."
"Giving up isn't learning, Wolfy."
"In this case? Sure it is. Learning's usually your forte. What took you so long?"
"You're an ass, Wolfy," she said, but she smiled and wrapped an arm around him anyway.
/-/
"I've got very exciting news, everyone!"
Yang looked up from her lunch. Artorias was walking towards them, a lunch tray in one hand, the other arm wrapped around a girl in a blue robe and black armour with pale blonde hair. "Didn't take you for a kidnapper."
"If I were, I'd be doing the taking," he quipped. "Ciaran left the dorm!"
"You dragged me here from class," said the sorry soul.
"You let me."
She sighed, pried herself from Artorias' grip, and gave one, awkward wave. "Hi. I'm Ciaran."
"Well it's nice to meet you, Ciaran," said Ruby, through a mouthful of strawberries. She stuck her hand out. "I'm Ruby!"
Ciaran took her hand, and Ruby shook so vigorously that Yang was worried someone would get hurt.
"You're friendly," Ciaran observed, not in a mean-spirited way. A grin spread across Ruby's face.
A thought occurred to Yang, and she elbowed Artorias. "I'm Yang," she said, smirking, "the Beautiful Blonde Brawler."
Ciaran glared at her teammate. "You're a terrible influence, Wolfy."
"Thanks, C."
"And that's the Ice Queen," Yang said, pointing at Weiss.
"Hey!"
"Even Torchwick knows it, Weiss-cream. Don't fight it. And our last team member is… conspicuously absent." Yang looked to her right, where Blake usually sat. If Yang had to guess, the faunus girl was at the library again, searching restlessly for information on the White Fang's recent movements.
Artorias sat, plonking his lunch down in front of him. Yang eyed the yellow mass curiously.
"Is that mustard?" Ruby asked.
"With steak," Ciaran corrected, letting out a long-suffering sigh. She sat down as well, and began picking at her decidedly mustardless food.
"I don't see any steak," Yang pointed out.
"It's under there," he claimed, delicately consuming a forkful of the stuff. Yang supposed there must have been some steak on it somewhere, else the mustard would have just dripped off.
"I'd hardly count that as a meal," Weiss said.
"Steak and mustard go together," he said.
"Steak with mustard on the side, perhaps," Yang said. "I'm still not entirely convinced the steak exists."
He drew his plate closer to him protectively.
"It hasn't killed him yet," Ciaran shrugged.
"And it never will," he claimed, with a smug smile. Yang considered it a marvel that his eyes weren't watering from the heat. "So. Blake. She still hung up on the White Fang thing?"
"Obviously," said Weiss, averting her eyes from Artorias' meal. "It's not good for her. She's working herself to death."
"Yeah, I mean, we said we'd help her out and all, but that's not an excuse to just keep going crazy, you know?" Ruby said.
"And we've made some progress," said Yang. "I mean, you were there, Wolfy, hounding that giant robot? And we got the Yarrow lead, and that thing about the hideout in the south-east."
"And the SDC records singled out Vale as the primary target for dust robberies," said Weiss.
"Oh, so you weren't just flirting with Neptune?" Artorias smirked, leaning his elbows on the table and cupping his chin, adopting a mockingly dreamy look. The vision was ruined somewhat by his chewing – he'd just put another forkful in his mouth. "I want to hear all about it," he said. Yang snickered at his antics as Ciaran punched him lightly on the arm.
Artorias suddenly sat ramrod straight, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline. "Nose-rush!" he cried, his mouth forming a small 'o' has his breathing turned heavy.
"Serves you right," Ciaran said.
"Suddenly I'm glad that you're only obsessed with strawberries and cookies," Weiss drawled, looking pointedly at Ruby.
"And milk!" Ruby reminded her.
Artorias slammed his hand onto the table, scrunched his eyes shut, then seemed to recover, letting out a sigh of relief. "Gods, it felt like my brain was on fire." He pointed an accusing look at Ciaran, who turned his nose up at him, smirking slightly.
"Told you so."
"Didn't kill me." He cracked his neck. "Right. Where were we?"
"Neptune," Yang reminded him. "Details, Weiss-cream. Details."
"I'm not sure it's worth dignifying you with a response," Weiss said, crossing her arms. "Especially you," she said, in a pointed comment to the wolf. Artorias shrugged as if to say, fair enough.
"Is that why you got rid of me?" Ruby wondered.
"You walked off all by yourself, thank you very much," Weiss said. "And how is Penny, anyway?"
"Wait, you saw Penny?" Yang asked.
"Who's Penny?" Ciaran asked.
"Ha, heh, ah, she's just a friend," Ruby explained. "Uh, she's fine, yeah. She's fine."
"What happened to her after the docks?" Yang asked.
"Um, she went home. To sleep. Yeah." Very convincing, Rubes.
"I'll take your word for it, then," Artorias said, though his narrowed eyes betrayed that he too was suspicious. "Oh, so Ciaran, the other member of Team Ruby, Blake – she likes to read. I reckon you'd get along, if she wasn't being all weird right now."
"Oh?" Ciaran asked, perking up. "What does she read?"
Yang found herself grinning wildly. "Literature," said Yang. "You know, like capital 'L' Literature, very stimulating… mentally, of course. She gets really into her books."
Ciaran nodded. "Not bad. I recently read Foe by-"
"Ah, mm, nope," Yang cut in. "We're not really the bookworm types, but if you ever run into Blake, you should definitely ask her what she's read recently."
"I'll keep it in mind."
"So, Weiss…" said Jaune – where he'd come from, Yang wasn't sure. It was as though the blond boy had just… appeared. From thin air. "There's a new restaurant opening in Vale on Thursday. Thought, maybe, you know, you might want to…"
"No."
"Well, I never saw that coming," Artorias said, smirking.
"There's no need to be rude," said Pyrrha with a frown, as she caught up to her leader.
"No, no, I'm serious – I really expected it to work that time."
Pyrrha's brow furrowed, and she moved closer to Jaune protectively. Jaune ignored her. Yang rolled her eyes. Stupid blond idiot.
"I mean, he's not wrong," Jaune said. He took a seat, either shrugging off his latest rejection with practiced ease, or hiding his despair beneath a cheery demeanour. Yang knew that the boy wore his heart on his sleeve, yet for some reason she felt it was the second.
"I'm not?" Artorias queried. Everyone ignored him.
Ciaran looked curiously at Team Juniper. "So… hi?"
"Oh, right, how very rude of you, Wolfy, not even introducing your own teammate," Yang said, winking at Pyrrha. A small smile crossed her face. "Jaune, Pyrrha, this is Ciaran. Ciaran – eh, you get it."
Jaune stirred. "The name's Jaune Arc," he said. "Short-"
"Jaune, no," Yang said, cutting him off.
"Doesn't he still need that? I mean, it's like you said – what else does he have?" Artorias peered at Jaune curiously.
"He's slowly learning to handle rejection," said Weiss dryly. "I suppose he's got that going for him."
"You know what they say, practice makes perfect, Snow Angel," Jaune said leaning towards her. "And I'm also getting a lot of practice asking you out."
Weiss regarded him with a deadpan, then looked away, pretending he wasn't even there. Jaune shrugged again, seemingly unphased.
"That's odd," Artorias said, looking at his scroll. "Ozpin wants me in his office."
"Detention?" Ciaran asked, raising a mocking eyebrow.
"Maybe, but I'm pretty sure nobody's given me a detention yet. Then again, I might have been sleeping when they gave it to me. I dunno – hey, has he called any of you guys? Might be a debriefing for the robot thing."
"Nope," said Ruby. Yang and Weiss nodded in agreement with her. "And that was days ago, anyway. Weird."
"Yeah. Weird," Artorias mused. "I guess I'd better be off then. You cool?"
"Hot, actually," Yang said, ignoring the rolling eyes of her teammates. Artorias snorted.
"Always fear the flame, Yang," he said. She tilted her head in confusion, but his smile took on a wistful quality, as though he were enjoying a private joke. He gave Pyrrha and Jaune a mock salute. "Ladykiller, Fun Police," he acknowledged, then he turned on his heel and walked away.
"You two get along like a house on fire," Ciaran observed.
"He's fun," said Yang, shrugging.
"He's insulting," Pyrrha said quietly, but then her eyes flickered to Ciaran. "Sorry, I don't mean to-"
"It's fine," she assured the champion. "He's… an acquired taste."
"And he has rather odd tastes himself," Weiss said, peering once again at his unfinished 'meal'. Yang looked over too – indeed, she could now make out the vague outline of a steak, slathered as it was in the yellow condiment.
Idly, she wondered whether it was some sort of semblance, to be able to eat that much mustard without throwing up.
"What do you think, Vomitboy?" Yang asked.
"I mean – I don't not like him. He's-"
"I meant the mustard," she deadpanned. "How about it? Maybe we could get a reenactment of the famous barf! Just… not on my shoes this time."
"I'll pass."
"Well, I like him," Ruby chimed in. "He's… brave. I don't mean like, fighting, but he seems alright at that too – but he always seems to say what he thinks, you know? And his weapons are cool – I mean, a bit simple, but still cool, so that's good too."
"Oh really?" Ciaran said. "I might have to one-up him, then. Gough tells me you're an expert on weaponry."
Ruby blushed and stammered something incomprehensible.
"Here we go," Yang sighed.
/-/
"If you don't mind me asking – why do you want Nym in particular?"
Professor Ozpin looked out the observation window, towards the city. For a while he said nothing, and Ironwood was left only with the inexorable sound of gears quietly pushing against each other.
"Oz?"
If the older man had been startled, he did not show it, turning to him calmly. "Mr Nym is rather apt at investigation, per your own report. Is there an issue?"
"No," Ironwood said, "I just find it odd. He's still just a student."
"Students go on missions regularly. This is hardly different."
"Oz-"
"For Mr Nym, at least, it won't be too jarring. Vacuo handles things differently."
"He has personal ties. It could compromise the mission."
Ozpin polished his glasses. "I see you've done some more digging."
"I thought it prudent," he said. Artorias' relationship with Miss Acribus hadn't been on the report given to Ozpin, as they weren't yet an item at the time the report was commissioned.
Ozpin nodded. "Mr Nym may have some insight that Specialist Schnee will not. He may have even known Anastacia. Tell me – have you investigated Mr Ornstein as well?"
Ironwood, grimaced, then nodded. "If you want a written report, I'm afraid there isn't one. Not yet, at any rate." And it wouldn't have many details, anyway. He hadn't dug up much on Team Gwyn's leader.
"That's fine, but thank you for offering."
Ironwood narrowed his eyes. Ozpin was searching for something from Team Gwyn, but he wasn't sure what. It was clear he'd taken an interest in Artorias Nym especially – after all, he wasn't sending the rest of his team on the mission. But in regards to Ornstein, Ozpin either didn't expect Ironwood to help him – or he didn't want him to.
Beacon's headmaster was a secretive man indeed, not that Ironwood didn't already know that.
There was a ding from the elevator.
"Come in," said Professor Ozpin.
Artorias stepped into the office, taking a brief glance around the room. His eyes met Ironwood's, for just a second, before settling on Ozpin.
"No offense, Professor, but I prefer June's office."
"None taken," said Ozpin, engaging in the small talk. He sat in his chair, and gestured for Artorias to sit too.
"You've made a name for yourself, Mr Nym," said Ozpin.
"Is that a good or a bad thing?" Artorias asked.
"Good, for the most part," said Ozpin, "though I hear you're a bit of a troublemaker at Shade."
"At the risk of sounding like a child – Smough usually started it."
"Quite. Coffee?" Ozpin offered.
"I'm fine thanks."
"Have you been in contact with Mr Iris since his departure from Shade?" asked Ironwood. Smough Iris could be useful - he seemed to be the closest thing to an authority on Ornstein. And, even if Ozpin apparently didn't care for his assistance on the matter, Ironwood had taken his own interest.
Gilderoy Ornstein sounded not unlike a young James Ironwood.
"I certainly hope I haven't," Artorias quipped.
"I'll take that as a no, then," said Ironwood.
Artorias nodded. "Gil has though. They're dating, gods know why."
"I suppose such things aren't always logical," Ozpin said.
"That's one way of putting it," Artorias laughed. "Smough's a racist git. Gil – well, he's not so bad."
Ironwood nodded, more to himself than to the student. "If you don't mind me asking, how is Mr Ornstein?"
"He's alive," Artorias said simply. "You know him?"
"Not personally," Ironwood said, though he offered the student no further explanation.
Artorias shrugged. "I don't think I could tell you much more than whatever your file says."
Ironwood frowned. "We don't have a file on Mr Ornstein."
Artorias raised an eyebrow. "Is that the truth, or is it classified?"
"Both."
Artorias' smile grew, and he looked down and to the side briefly before his gaze returned to Ozpin. "I don't suppose I'm here just to talk about my team leader and his ass of a boyfriend?"
Ozpin reclined slightly in his chair. "That would be rather pointless, I agree. Mr Nym, I want you to know that what we're about to tell you is… sensitive. It's caused quite the panic in Vacuo, and we'd rather not see the same happen in Vale." He sipped at his coffee. "It would be best if you could keep the details to yourself."
Artorias' face fell. "What happened?"
Ozpin sighed, removed his glasses, massaged the bridge of his nose, then replaced his spectacles. "Izalith was destroyed by the creatures of Grimm," he said.
"Is Quelaan alright?"
"She is safe," said Ozpin.
Artorias let out a sigh of relief. "Thank the gods."
"Thank her team," said Ozpin. "They were visiting her when the attack began. They saved many lives in the evacuation."
Artorias' brow furrowed. "I don't- Izalith was so quiet. There hadn't been any Grimm activity there in years. I don't understand."
Ozpin looked to Ironwood. It was his turn.
"It was highly unexpected," said the general. "But there are some alarming details. There are rumours among the survivors that the Grimm were being led by a human."
"What?"
"It's unlikely, I agree, but the rumour has spread rather quickly in Vacuo. I'm sending Specialist Schnee to investigate the claims; Professor Ozpin requested that you join her."
"You know," Artorias said, addressing Professor Ozpin, "Winter wouldn't be happy at the suggestion she can't handle it on her own." Ironwood drew a deep breath, then nodded reluctantly – he wasn't wrong, though Winter was a professional and wouldn't take it out on him, at least.
"Perhaps. But I want you there anyway," said Ozpin.
"Might I ask why?" That was a question Ironwood wanted a proper answer to as well.
The corner of Ozpin's mouth turned upwards. "You are familiar with Izalith. You may find something Specialist Schnee would miss."
"Winter doesn't miss much."
"I also trust you. When you return, you will give me your full report. Directly." Ironwood narrowed his eyes. Ozpin was rarely so blunt – but at least it explained why he wanted someone to go with Winter. He wanted a direct line of communication.
Artorias raised an eyebrow. "Trust? Professor, this is the first time we've ever spoken."
"I trust Professor June more than anybody on Remnant. She vouches for you. Certainly, there are people I trust more than you – no offence, of course – but those people are somewhat conspicuous, or otherwise indisposed."
Artorias nodded slowly, accepting the answer. "So. Any specifics I should know?"
"We lack the specifics ourselves," said Ironwood. "For now, that serves our purpose – you and Specialist Schnee will get information straight from the source. As for who that source is, the only Hunter team we know to be present was Team Kitetail."
Ozpin glanced at Ironwood out of the corner of his eye, then his eyes settled again on Artorias, his face adopting a stern, grave expression. "There's something else," he said. "Anastacia Sil. We must know what happened to her."
Ironwood's eyes widened, and he glanced sidelong at Ozpin, pursing his lips. Ozpin had seemed none too pleased that Ironwood had entrusted that name to Winter. That he was handing it off to someone he trusted only by proxy caught Ironwood off guard.
"Ana mentioned her once," Artorias mused. At first glance, he seemed deep in thought, but his eyes were fixed on Ironwood, a gleam of wit hidden within. He hadn't missed the general's surprise. "Oh, Ana for Quelana, not Ana for Anastacia, by the way – it'd be pretty hard for Anastacia to mention anything. She's the mute, right?" Ozpin nodded. "I get the whole 'Hunters save lives' thing, but why her in particular?"
"Classified," Ironwood cut in before Ozpin could speak. It was highly classified, in fact.
"Identifying the human amongst the Grimm takes priority, of course," Ozpin said, "but do not forget her."
Artorias nodded. "What do I tell my team?"
"You may inform them that Izalith has fallen, and that you've been exempted from classes to ensure that your friends are safe. Beyond that, please remain silent," Ozpin said. "And ask them to do the same. There's a flight leaving for Vacuo tomorrow morning. We'll organise a ticket for you. Are there any further questions?"
Artorias shook his head.
"Good luck, Mr Nym," Ozpin said, gesturing to the elevator.
Artorias nodded. The room fell silent for a time after the elevator began its descent. Ironwood gathered his thoughts.
"Ozpin-"
"Trust me, James," said Ozpin. "Is this not what you wanted? For us to take a more… active role. I am merely choosing an actor."
"Is that what this is? You want to recruit him?"
He pursed his lips. "June does, but she's deferred the final decision to me. I've yet to make up my mind."
"Yet you told him about the Summer Maiden?"
"She has a name," Ozpin said quietly. He shook himself, as though out of a trance. "You did much the same with Miss Schnee."
"She needs to know who to look for."
"As does Mr Nym. But I was made aware of Miss Schnee's role in the investigation rather late," Ozpin accused. Ironwood averted his eyes – he'd sent word to Winter the moment he'd heard Izalith had fallen, and hadn't discussed it with Ozpin.
"Ideally, I'd have sent Mr Nym alone," he continued. "I suppose it's a good thing you picked Miss Schnee for the mission. They've worked well together in the past."
"I trust her. She's one of my best."
"And he is June's." What makes him trust June so much more than me? "It matters little. We'll have our answers soon enough."
Tarkus is strong, but he's got a way to go before he becomes the Golem-destroying hero we know and love.
I tell you what, picking names that suit the character, sound good, and abide by the colour-name rule can be a pain in the ass. Eygon, Kirk, and Havel pretty much gave me surnames on a silver platter, but the Daughters of Izalith have had their last name changed three times. First it was 'Ember', then 'Maledictis', now 'Acribus'. I'd have stuck with Ember, but there's already an Octavia Ember at Shade in canon. God damn minor characters.
Eingyi's surname has been changed twice, just so the team name kinda fits the colour rule. Why he's even a character, I don't know. It just sorta... happened. But I needed a full team, and he fit the bill.
The surname 'Sil' fits nicely. Some of the reasons why should be obvious. Others not so much. But god, it sounds so stupid. Sil. Ugh. I'm committing to it anyway.
The name I'm happiest with (even though it's not that good, really) hasn't been dropped yet, so I won't say it. But I will say I'm also rather fond of Arthur Quill's name.
I won't make any promises that I'll have the next chapter out on time next week, as I've got a pile of assessment due that day, but it'll definitely be out on Saturday if I can't make Friday.
Next chapter - April 7th or April 8th.
