Track 10: Daniel in the Den

And felled in the night / by the ones you think you love
They will come for you …

PART II

Blake was in lead, but she had no idea where they were, or where they were going, or how long they had been riding. Last she knew, a mob of angry villagers had run them out, and they had stayed moving ever since.

There was nobody on their tail – that she could see – but they weren't taking their chances. They needed to keep running. They were in absolutely no shape to fight a mob, depleted as they were.

But one quick glance back at the remainder of her vanguard told her that the strength of their horses was flagging. Their stamina was superior, but not unlimited, and especially at a full gallop. They needed to stop, and soon. Make camp. Evaluate the changes to their situation.

It was hot, the morning sun beating on Blake's back, and even her leather-lamellar armor felt as if it weighed almost double its actual weight. Fresh beads of sweat sprung from her forehead, dripped into her eyes. She released one of the reins and wiped at them. She was growing tired as well.

She kept the troop riding for another half-mile until she saw a stream in the distance. She slowed her horse and directed the rangers to the water.

She watched with a sinking feeling as her remaining nine rangers dismounted.

The nearest village was barely that. Not many buildings at all. But there was a merchant, a seller of particular, exotic goods. As the merchant told her, they were one of the few villages in this part of country to have a strong trade relationship with the coffee plantations further north.

Coffee. An interesting thing. A bean which, when roasted, could be chewed, or "processed" into a beverage. She'd never had it before – the smell repelled her – but she had known someone that had told her all sorts of strange ideas about it, and what it could be used for.

There was one idea she remembered exactly.

She took a small sack of ground-up beans back to her camp, built a fire. She heated water, combined it with the grounds. The liquid turned out a deep brown. With gloved hands she removed the bowl from the fire and laid it to rest in a divot in the ground she had made.

While she waited for the concoction to cool, she took the hunting knife out of her saddlebag and, with hesitation barely pushed down, sawed off her hair. Gathered all the long strands up in one hand at the back of her head, and hacked. When she was done, it was all she could do not to look at it before throwing it into the flames. It fizzed, crackled.

She shook her head, relishing how light her head now felt. Hairs flew up around her, appearing to shimmer in the sunlight before floating down into the grass. She ran a hand over it, scattered them.

Perhaps one day she would regret what she was about to do. But it needed to be done, else her efforts would be worthless. Her empty-handed return would be punished. And as a corpse left on a road, she would be of no service to anyone; if the attack had provided any example for her, then that would be the way she was bound to end up. Failure, one way or the other.

No, she told herself again. If this was to be her determination, then it was time for her to start over. She had enough of the grounds to keep the color in for many weeks. She was confident that her tail was cold. Every day on the road, she crept closer to her destination; she had ridden almost halfway across the country already. It was within reach. If she was successful, then she would return a hero. She would be remembered as the only one who decided to act, when everybody else had stayed resting on their hind parts.

Gingerly, she reached for the bowl. The brew had cooled.

They rode day and night, with the intent to move on. There was no doubting it; they had failed. Camping at the stream had only seen them rest quietly for a day before mounting their horses again, barely enough time to evaluate what had happened.

They came to yet another valley, though it was smaller than the one they had left the army in. Blake instructed them to make camp at the bottom of the valley, after which they were free to spend their time doing whatever they pleased.

"What about you, sir?" one of them asked her, between long gulps of water.

"I need to scout the area," she said. It was easier than saying she needed some time to think.

She took one of the female rangers with her. As a soldier, she knew that one of the worst ideas in a war was to ride without at least one person for backup. They set off uphill.

Their mission had started with such promise. It was never going to be easy, they knew that. But they had ridden from the army with an optimistic intent in the face of such odds. They had taken down six of their targets almost immediately.

But sixteen rangers, unfamiliar with the countryside and scores of local thugs, were never going to be able to hunt down twenty-five fugitives with miles ahead of them. It was simply impossible, Blake realized. And now they were down to nine rangers and herself.

She needed to tell her troop the bad news. How they would judge her. Perhaps deem her a failure as a leader. Too young after all to command, to carry the responsibility of saving their one and only advantage. Or perhaps they would see the mission for what it was, a suicidal shot in the dark.

But, she remembered, they weren't really finished yet. One thing she had known about the mission, that her troop hadn't, was that they were still being ordered to miraculously infiltrate Atlas, no matter the outcome of the hunting mission.

Would they be prepared for it? Would they stare at her, and tell her that they wanted to go back to the army?

The toe of her boot caught in a thick grass root. She kicked at it with anger.

"Sir."

Blake looked up. The ranger she had taken had walked up ahead of her and stopped. She was looking up at something in the distance.

"What is it?" she called out.

"Do you see how the top of the valley is lined with all of those boulders?" She waved one way, and then the other, to emphasize the stretch of the rocks. "I think I see something."

Blake caught up to her, focused her eyesight on where she was pointing.

"Looks like … a camp. A small one. So someone clearly doesn't want to be found. Good spotting." She exhaled deeply. "It's not a steep climb. Let's check it out."

Weiss dropped what little firewood she had managed to gather.

There were figures in the distance. People at the camp she had made atop the valley, hidden among the boulders. She could see them stalking around her horse and supplies, but she was far enough away that she knew they didn't see her.

She crouched behind some boulders, and took careful steps towards the edge of the valley. She peered down.

There, at the bottom, was a camp larger than her own. She could see the shapes of horses and people milling around.

She ducked back into cover before too long. She closed her eyes, brought up the memory of the map in her head. Was she already this far into the country?

Of course she was. And she knew exactly who these people were. She drew her sword.

She weaved slowly through the boulders, kept low as she came closer to her camp.

They did not turn around, did not seem to detect her presence, but she worried that her armor was making noise, and would give her away any second. She worried that her quickening breaths were coming too loud.

Sure enough, it was a camp that they had found in the rubble. There was a horse tied on the other side of the boulders, a strong-looking, brown mare. The campfire was set up with a cooking rig. There was a bedroll, and other supplies.

Blake found it a little curious. The camp was only big enough for one person. There were no standards, no colors on the horse; it wasn't Northern military.

"Tell me what you see."

"Sir?"

"What do you think?"

The ranger surveyed the campsite again. She started walking around the site.

"It doesn't look like anything."

"Really?"

"Traveler, maybe?"

Blake knelt down to examine the fire. It looked recently put out.

"Just because the camp's only big enough for one doesn't mean that whoever's living here isn't a threat, or isn't dangerous. You say traveler; this could just as easily be a mercenary. A sellsword. Keep your eyes open."

The ranger scoffed.

"There's one of them, right? There's two of us up here, and there's another eight of us down-"

There was a sound, a scraping and sliding of metal, and her words became a short series of grunts. Blake twisted around. She shot up straight just as her ranger fell to the ground.

There stood a woman in shining, scaled-steel armor, holding her thin sword up at Blake. The blade was coated with blood. Her face, helmed, was a mask of determination.

Blake didn't hesitate for a second; she drew her katana. With a yell, she jumped over rubble and attacked.

The knight seemed surprised, taken aback, with how slow she was to bring her sword up to parry. She staggered back, almost tripping on the rocks.

Blake pressed the offensive. Swung and lunged, pushing the knight back up to the roadside.

Blake's light armor made it inherently easier for her to dodge, move faster. But this knight was fast, surprisingly so for someone who wore steel from head to toe. She dodged Blake's attacks, albeit jumpily.

Using only her katana was getting her nowhere. With her left hand she drew her tanto, brandished both blades.

The knight looked panicked, all of a sudden. She stabbed with haste. Blake dodged, but the reach of the blade was far superior to her own. It caught her side, digging into the leather before it was dislodged.

She transferred her weight. Immediately swung again.

The knight was slower this time; the lateness of her parry knocked her down, on her back. She held the katana to the knight's neck.

"Who are you people?!" she yelled. "What do you want?!"

"Why do you bother yourself with our goals?"

"You're with an army!"

"And you aren't."

"So?"

Blake fought the temptation to smirk. If only she knew. But perhaps there was a way around this encounter. Hare-brained, yes, especially after this interloper had killed one of her own, but there was a way it could work out. Not to mention that she was feeling a little desperate.

"You fight well, girl! With spirit!" she said, changing her tone. "You know how to use that sword of yours, clearly. How about this? Join us!"

"What?!"

Blake outstretched her left arm, gesturing to the scene all around them.

"You can help us bring about the new era! We can always use more skilled swordswomen in our army! Come, bring about justice for your country, by bringing justice to the tyrant Schnee!"

The knight shifted cautiously under the blade.

"Why? What makes you think I would ever help you invaders tear my country to pieces?"

"Think about it, just for a second. Your people are oppressed! You look like you've traveled around."

"That's true …"

"Then surely you've seen them! The people who say that things here are worse than ever! The people who say that your Lord Schnee, as you call him, has done nothing to help The North."

The knight's sword wavered. She cocked her head, as she considered Blake's words.

Blake was lying, really; her conversations with Northerners hadn't lasted even this long. But at the same time, she had an inkling that it was likely to be true.

"What do you fight for?" asked the knight.

"Why, liberation, of course!" said Blake with exaggerated joviality. "Now, what do you say?"

Something in the knight's face changed.

"Fine," she said.

Blake smiled. Relaxed her sword arm.

Then the knight kicked out. Blake fell to the ground, grunting when she landed on her stomach.

The knight was above her now. She could feel the tip of her sword against the back of her neck.

"Yield," said the knight.

Blake was angry at the knight, for throwing the olive branch back in her face. And she was furious at herself, for letting a rare show of desperation lead to her downfall. She tried to wriggle away, but the knight's knee came down on her back.

"You don't want to do that."

"Is that right?"

"Yes. Let go of your weapons and I'll take you prisoner. Resist and you will die."

Blake hoped that none of her rangers in the valley had come to investigate, because she would never be able to forgive herself, having one of her soldiers witness her surrendering her weapons to an inferior enemy. As it was, she suspected that they hadn't heard or seen anything, as no one had come, and she was being pinned down on the other side of the boulders.

"If you take me prisoner, where is it we will go?" she asked quietly.

"Atlas. So make haste and yield to me, invader. You wish to see Lord Schnee so badly? Then it looks like today's your lucky day!"

Weiss could hardly believe her fortune.

When she'd set out, her only objective had been to gather intelligence to take back to the capital. Indisputable evidence of an invasion. She had had no idea how she would go about accomplishing such a task, just that it needed to be done.

The possibility of breakthrough in a mission such as this was nothing short of miraculous. And yet she had been able to stumble into one. In fact, its wrists and ankles were bound as it walked alongside her horse.

Weiss's captive was young, and appeared to be around her own age. She was wearing a type of leather-based armor, designed very obviously for flexibility. Weiss would have found the choice peculiar if they hadn't fought, and also if her prisoner was wearing a helm; she had not worn one for the entirety of their encounter, but it was only now that Weiss was able to get a good look at what appeared to be a pair of animal ears atop the prisoner's head. Animal ears. An extra pair of ears that weren't even human. They were shaped like those of a cat, and were dark violet in color. That, Weiss decided, was far stranger than any armor preferences. Never before had she seen anything quite like it.

It was a tight rope that bound Blake's wrists together and kept her tied to the saddle. The rope that bound her ankles was loose enough for her to walk comfortably, but it nullified any sort of kick she could otherwise attempt. It didn't seem a smart idea to kick the horse anyway; forceful contact to that part of its body would only spur it into a gallop, and she did not relish the idea of a panicked horse dragging her to the capital on her stomach.

They had not even traveled long enough to see the sun set, but Blake had already decided that the knight was inquisitive to an extreme point of irritation. Of all the people in The North to be captured by, I get the one who makes it her mission to want to know everything.

The knight had said: "Don't even bother trying to escape. After everything I've done to get this far, there's no way I'm letting you out of my sight."

"You lack experience." Blake could feel it.

"What makes you say that?"

"You're twitchy when you fight. Like you're not used to combat, or ranging. You made the foolish mistake of riding out without accompaniment, or a squire. It was only your speed and the reach of that needle of yours that saved you from death. You're excited, and you lack proficiency at masking it. Who are you so eagerly trying to impress, knight?"

"You know where we're going; take a guess."

"We're not there yet. You have not yet brought me before him. We're alone in this countryside. Are you sure you're not trying to impress me, of all people?" She went on. "Perhaps you should consider adjusting your attitude – my people are coming for your city. My squad will notice my absence before long. They will rescue me, and they will kill you for taking me prisoner. A shame, given my generous offer."

"Come off it. You would never have let me fight alongside your people. If I had gone with you, then our positions would just be reversed."

"You don't know that. For all you know, it could have been genuine. Despite your inexperience, I admire your ability to wield a sword. Were you to have joined us, you could have served as the shining example for your fellow Northerners."

"I refuse to betray my country."

Blake shrugged, though she knew the knight couldn't see her.

"On your head, then," she said.

Silence pervaded for some time after that, and Blake thought the round of questioning was over. For whatever reason, she had not been asked about her quite visible faunus traits. It were as if the knight was trying to find the right words to say, the right questions to ask.

Then, after another ten minutes, the knight bluntly asked: "What are you?"

Blake raised an eyebrow. She used the word "what". How indelicate.

"Pardon?" she said.

"I mean … your ears. The other ones. They're … unusual."

"Are they? Animal ears are quite common, where I come from."

"And where is that?"

There were two answers to that question, but Blake didn't mention either. Once she was silent for a significant length of time, the knight sighed.

"Very well. Don't tell me where you've come from – I'm sure we'll find out sooner or later anyway."

"Good luck with that." Blake paused as it clicked. Despite her bleak situation, she now knew of a way that she could use it to her advantage. A knight, however new to the role, would surely be privy to information not known to the common Northerner, even if they didn't have the presence of mind to discern what the information meant.

"Tell me, knight: what ears do you have experience with?"

"What?"

"You know …" urged Blake. "Not all of us have cat ears. I'm sure a knight such as yourself has seen quite a number of my people in your travels. And if you hail from the capital, then I'm sure that you've seen them in their largest number."

"What are you talking about?"

"Of course, I understand that it might seem unfamiliar, looking upon one who doesn't have the collar of slavery around their neck."

The knight was silent. Then: "I don't know what you're saying."

"Please." Blake scoffed. "Just a quick question: how many faunus slaves did it take to help you put on that shiny steel armor? Did you make them tidy up every time after you finished sparring with your needle?"

"What are faunus?"

"Don't act the fool with me. You know who we are."

"No, I'm actually saying that I don't." The knight sounded annoyed. "What are faunus?"

"The North belonged to my people, knight. Lord Schnee had no right to enslave and imprison them, and he is a criminal and a monster of the highest order. Remember that when you kneel before him and throw me down at his feet."

It was Weiss's conclusion that her prisoner was demented, no matter how serious she had sounded. A rambling lunatic. She had wanted information about the invading army, but after all of the declarations that were made, further interrogation no longer seemed as if it would be fruitful.

They had travelled in silence the rest of the day before camping in a small, shrouded grove. Weiss tied the prisoner to a tree trunk, then spent an inordinate length of time lying awake, thinking.

The ravings about "faunus", and slaves; Weiss wasn't going to pretend that she was holding some sort of secret information, as the accusations themselves failed to resonate with her. But she was well-educated, schooled in developing theories, and she was able to interpret the situation to a certain degree.

Her first theory was that "faunus" – quite clearly derived from "fauna", the mass noun used to identify animals – referred to her prisoner's race, as well as that of the rest of the invaders. Hence, the faunus army. Brushing aside the ridiculousness of the concept, it was a simple enough assumption, given her prisoner's physical features.

Her second theory was less certain.

"Slaves", the prisoner had said. She – and perhaps the rest of the faunus army – appeared to see Weiss's father as some incarnation of evil. A black-hearted war criminal, who had taken The North with methods far more questionable than in the stories she had heard growing up. However, as she remembered, not any of her teachings, nor any of her books of histories, had ever mentioned the existence of a faunus race in The North – or anywhere else in the world, for that matter.

As she was far more inclined to side with her father, she could only then conclude that the faunus army had been raised from wherever they had come on a falsehood. She considered the prisoner's vehemence; if it could be used an indicator, then the accusation of her father as a slaver was likely the key motivator of the army's presence. In conclusion, the invasion was motivated by some false idea of justice, and vengeance. The idea of "liberating" a people that simply didn't exist.

An idea that could destroy the army without her father's soldiers even being required to lift a sword, or nock an arrow.

She glanced at her prisoner and concluded from her slumped posture and bowed head that she was asleep.

For the first time since leaving the city, she smiled a genuine smile.

They rode and camped for a week more, never staying in the same place for much longer than they slept. Unless there was a particular question on Weiss's mind, they said little to each other when they travelled, and less when they stopped. Three times Weiss had asked for her prisoner's name, and her role in the invading army – three times her prisoner had stayed quiet. It seemed that it was difficult to talk to the prisoner if they weren't preaching about salvation or whatnot.

Though they had not encountered any trouble on the road, Weiss found herself becoming more and more watchful of her prisoner. This plan of hers was entirely dependent on her father confronting the prisoner and directly convincing her of the truth. Then sending her back to the army as an emissary, a messenger heralding unfortunate news and the recommendation that they should leave and go home. If she occupied a position of command, then all the more preferable; if not, then so be it.

But regardless of rank, survival of her prisoner had suddenly become as important as her own. It was going to require more work, but the potential outcome of the plan would be worth the struggle and more.

She slowed down to examine a signpost. Roads leading in four different directions.

"We're stopping," said the prisoner. It was the first thing she had said since the morning. "Lost?"

Weiss took a minute to think. She pulled out the map, analyzed the details. Then she surprised the prisoner by pulling the horse around.

"Watch it! There's somebody down here, in case you've forgotten," she said as she was pulled onto the new path. "And isn't the road to Atlas … not this one?"

"No. We're taking a detour. This road lets us cut deeper north, and there's an inn coming up on it. That's where we'll be staying tonight."

"What? Why?"

The prisoner suddenly sounded fearful. Or more aware. Right, Weiss thought. The very reason she had been able to ascertain the rough location of the prisoner's people was from a report claiming an attack in an inn.

She briefly wondered about the outcome of that incident before answering.

"We're staying in an inn tonight for the same reason that any other traveler decides to stay in an inn. And even if you're in my custody, remember that I've been sleeping in ditches and rock-piles since I left the city, and right now I want a cooked meal and a warm bed. You can take the floor, of course. And, if you behave, then I might consider sharing my food."

She felt the prisoner's rage burning across the rope, but ignored it; bruised pride was the least of her concerns.

The prisoner did not speak again until later in the afternoon, when she asked Weiss a question.

"Knight. Tell me your name."

"Why should I?"

"I'm going to die a prisoner, it seems. I want to know the name of the one who captured me, so that I may find you in the afterlife."

What a curious notion, Weiss thought.

"And do what?" said Weiss. The prisoner was silent again, and Weiss sighed. "My name is Rose – Ruby Rose." Then, for the fourth time, she asked, "What is your name?"

For the fourth time, the prisoner said nothing more.

The inn was larger than the one where her mission had met its demise. There was no town or village attached to it – a roadside hostelry.

While Ruby Rose went inside to the inn to book their room for the night, Blake stood outside with the horse. A more aware prisoner would have used the opportunity to steal the horse and make an escape. But after traipsing around The North for days on end with limited water and sustenance, she did not trust herself to be able to mount a horse, let alone ride it out for miles and miles in what was left of the night. So she waited more or less patiently.

Ruby Rose popped her head around the corner, waving around a key.

"Come I managed to get a room in the back corner of the building. That way, we won't be disturbed by all the riff-raff."

"Riff-raff?"

Ruby Rose walked over and untied Blake from the horse. When she was done, she had the rope in her hands.

"The main area is full of people. Eating, drinking ale … creating a general ruckus. When we go inside, we slip past everyone quietly to our own table. We might as well get something to eat before we call it a day."

"We? How generous of you."

"Just get in there – before I change my mind."

Rose had said that it was full of people, but she had left out how homey it was. Unlike the one other Northern inn she had patronized, the atmosphere here was warm and welcoming. It was not unlike that of the taverns back in the Southern Isles. Blake was suddenly hit with the strangest sensation of longing.

"Keep your head down," Rose murmured.

Blake looked up; in her introspection, she had failed to notice all the eyes on her and her captor.

Rose ushered her forward, urgency in her low voice.

"Just get to the table, get to the table …"

"Knight!"

They turned to see an older gentleman standing before them, shock written on his face.

"What is it, elder?" said Rose impatiently.

"Knight, I implore you to release your prisoner," he said. Three others at his table nodded their agreement.

"On what grounds?"

"Your prisoner is a traditional custodian of the land."

Blake raised an eyebrow. She could feel Rose wavering beside her.

"You have been misinformed, sir. This woman is a criminal," she began, trying to assert herself. "I am transporting her to Atlas to answer before Lord Schnee. Stand down before I arrest you."

"Do you understand what you're doing, knight? Lord Schnee has no authority this far into the country. Release your prisoner and allow her to return to her people!"

Murmurs rippled throughout the room, which was now focused entirely on the scene.

"Her people …" Rose said slowly. "Her people, the faunus … are invading The North as we speak! What say you of that, huh? Would you like to commit treason?"

"The real treason is the mass execution of our land's native people!"

"What?!" Blake said, incredulous.

Rose and the old man stopped arguing, and all turned to look at her.

"What are you talking about?!" she said.

The old man looked at her with sympathy.

"Child, do you not know the truth about your people?"

"My people are enslaved in Atlas, I know that."

"I've heard enough of this nonsense," said Rose, tugging on the rope.

Blake refused to be dragged away. Not now. She struggled to stay in place, even with Rose's frustration on display.

"What can you tell me, old one?"

"Well, then why don't you sit with us? If your captor will allow it, that is."

Blake stared at Rose for a minute.

"Fine," she said with an exasperated sigh. "But I'm coming. If you think I'm going to leave you alone with them, then-"

"Understood," Blake said impatiently.

She was wary as she sat at the table, even as the three other old men greeted her politely.

"If you don't mind my asking, where have you come from?" said the first man. "We though that there were no more of your kind in The North."

Blake shook her head.

"You're going to have to explain that to me first. Right now, if you don't mind."

They all exchanged a look.

"How much do you know about the history of your people, child?"

"I know that they lived in the far reaches of The North since the beginning," Blake said, resting her hands on the smoothed, wooden table. "I heard that when Schnee landed with his military, it was with a huge army, the likes of which had never been seen before. I know that he treated with all of of the old families, gathering support for his 'campaign'. I know that the faunus were the first to question his true intentions, and I know that when our daimyo refused his honeyed words, Schnee went about enslaving my entire race as revenge."

The old men took a long moment of silence, examining her, examining her words. It was the truth that she knew, but she wondered if they considered her a liar. Next to her, she felt Rose starting to boil with familiar fury.

"That's essentially what I know," she added.

"Young one, I'm afraid that there is more to the truth."

Blake leaned forward.

"Tell me, then."

"Please, remain calm. I will tell you."

Blake sat back, and listened intently.

"The faunus were the original inhabitants of The North. When humans first landed, there was conflict between the two peoples. It was not long, but it was bloody, which is why no one knows or can understand how the two races eventually found peace. But they did, and humans let the faunus take back the land they had stolen. It was understood that conflict was a thing of the past. Both races integrated with each other, and mixed-race children became common. This was all a very long time ago, but you understand that there was a level of harmony found in The North.

"When Schnee landed, he turned peace on its head. The beginning is mostly as you said: he landed with his army, and rallied the support of the families in the south and the western border. But he did not talk to the daimyo immediately. No. One of the young commander's first moves was to back the faunus into a wall. With his supporters, and the families who had harbored deep, hidden resentments against the faunus, he crippled the faunus supply lines, cut them off from the Coalition force."

"Coalition?" Blake interrupted.

"The families who agreed with the faunus daimyo that Schnee's intentions were impure, and thus allied with each other in case war was declared," the old man explained. "The faunus military made up more than half of the Coalition force."

"And he cut them off?"

"He cut them off. Eliminated the army's ability to rally with the Coalition families who, despite their alliance, were too far away to intervene.

"Cut off from their alliance, the faunus were quickly overwhelmed. Schnee's force was large enough to deal with them while holding the Coalition families at bay. When Schnee met with the daimyo, he was giving the faunus a chance to surrender. It is understood that the terms of the surrender were … unpleasant. The offended daimyo attacked Schnee." The old man paused, looking forlorn. "He ordered the extinction of the faunus race, as restitution. By then, the Northerners he had gathered had arrived, and they carried out his orders. The remains of the Coalition were no match for Schnee's army, and they were given a choice: serve or join the faunus. Homes were torched as the Coalition families were forced to give up any faunus that they may have been harboring. Those who continued to openly oppose the warlord were crushed, as promised. Any who managed to hide were not able to do so for long. Escape into The Plains, or across the seas, was difficult. As for the faunus left in the homeland … It took time, but eventually the mass execution of the entire faunus race was completed. Towards the end, the numbers of faunus in The North were so remote and dwindling that any remaining killings were carried out in secret, to hide the truth from the next generation."

They weren't enslaved – they were killed. All of them.

The pain was so immediate and so fierce that Blake's words died in her mouth. Part of her wanted to stand and run away. She wanted to pick up her chair and use the leg to impale Ruby Rose through the chest. She was incapable of movement, and she did nothing, said nothing, even as Rose stood up and spoke.

"What falsehoods are you telling me, old man?" Her voice shook with anger. "You mean to slander your hierarch in this way … Give me one reason why I should let you live after spouting such treason!"

"Only one so blind would label the truth as treason. Knight, I was younger than you are now during that time. My brothers and I are among the last who remember the truth, those who have not been lost to propaganda. You are from the city, are you not?"

Rose crossed her arms.

"So what?"

"Of course. How could anyone discover the truth in the heart of darkness."

"You're speaking riddles to me, old man. We're done here."

Blake felt Rose's hand on her arm, and allowed herself to be pulled up from the chair and led away. She thought that they were going to their shared room, but Rose pulled her outside through the back door.

"I would simply like to turn in," she said when she felt the night air surround her.

Ruby Rose ignored her. "What are you going to do now?" she said. "Your plan-"

"I don't know, okay?" Blake could not look her in the eye. "Do you believe all of that? What he said? Because I do. I know that he spoke the truth in there."

Rose said nothing. Waited until she continued.

"All my life, I was raised for this war. I came to this land with liberation as the goal – all of my people did. We expected that we would get to Atlas and save our people from the chains … and now, I've just found out that …" She sighed. "There's nothing to save. Our spies lied to us from the beginning, that much is clear now." She held up her bound wrists, tried to inject humor into her voice. "I don't suppose you could release me."

Ruby Rose stared at her, like she was actually considering it. Finally she said, "I had a plan for you."

"Uh-huh. What was that?"

"After you were saying all of those things about slaves, I was planning to deliver you to Lord Schnee. Then he would break you with the truth – that no such events had occurred – and provide evidence of it. You would then be sent back to your army, and be the one to convince your people of the truth. On the other hand, I thought that if he finally saw one your people, it would be enough to make him act."

"Do you think the old man was wrong about it all? What happened during the Conquest?"

Ruby Rose took a long time to answer. She leaned back against the wall of the building, clearly thinking. Without her helmet, her boyish-short brown hair stuck up in sweaty tufts. She ran a hand over them, smoothing them down. In the absence of hostility, Blake noted that she was fairly attractive, with her delicate features and pale skin, and her strange blue eyes. Perhaps the way she handled a sword spoke of something to her.

Finally, Rose answered: "As the minutes go by … less and less."

Blake nodded.

"You know … I don't care about your little plan for me," she said. "I'll have you know that I would rather have died before accepting such a lie."

"Very well."

"Do you still plan to follow through with it?"

"No. I don't know what to do with you now," said Rose. She sighed. "Let me ask you one more time. If you don't want to answer, then fine. We shall take our next step and I won't bother you with it again. But I want to know: what is your name?"

"Blake Belladonna."

She surprised herself, that she answered with the truth. Perhaps she was tired after the revelations. Perhaps it was because she was finding it harder to not feel some semblance of empathy for Ruby Rose, another victim of lies and generation-old deceit.

"I was a commander in the faunus army known to us as the White Fang – I was the youngest ever to reach such a rank," she went on. She could feel Ruby's curiosity even as she listened. She told Ruby about how she had been tasked to hunt down their escaped prisoners and traitorous spies, and how the mission had failed. How, as it became clear they had no other option, she had been considering a suicidal infiltration into the capital, when she was attacked and captured by the knight herself.

"The people from the village my rangers were killed in would have transported the bodies to Atlas and delivered them to Schnee by now," she said. "That's another reason why your plan doesn't matter."

"So …" Ruby said, absorbing the details of Blake's story. "I suppose neither of us have a clear way forward now."

"I need to sleep on it," said Blake. She could suddenly sense something different between them now. Vulnerability, she realized. The knight was more vulnerable than she'd ever been in their short time together.

"You know," she said. "He's evil. Schnee, that is. Any ruler who would cover up such heinous crimes and layer the truth behind fanciful tales of heroism …"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you don't owe anything to him. I am prepared to do something unprecedented in your case – you don't owe the service of your loyalty to Schnee."

Ruby Rose gave her a strange look, unreadable in the dark. Blake wasn't sure what to make of it, but she was prepared to be rebuffed.

"That's amusing," Ruby finally said. "Because I am one."

She told Blake Belladonna about her family, about growing up behind the walls of a keep in Atlas; she told her about recent events – what led up to her departure from the city, about how strangely her father had reacted to the rumors of the army. She wondered aloud about the bandits who had attacked her in the beginnings of her journey; it now occurred to her that they may have been faunus sympathizers, taking frustrations towards her father out on somebody with the same silver hair.

There was more silence between them after Weiss finished her story. She didn't know what Blake now thought of her, but she suspected it was not positive – as if it had ever been.

They were still outside, both leaning up against the wall. It had been a long time since they stepped out the back of the inn for air, and it was getting cooler the longer they stayed out.

"Do you feel like taking back all of those nice words?" Weiss said, when Blake did not answer for a long time. "I know you meant well, but now you know my story. The real one …"

"Who's Ruby Rose?" Blake said. She cleared her throat.

"Oh … just the name of someone I knew when I was growing up."

Blake nodded.

"So …" Weiss murmured, trying to come up with a way to restart the conversation. "Do you have anything you wish to say to me?"

Blake took some more time to think. Weiss had a fleeting thought that if she was not still holding the rope, then Blake would have chosen the moment to run.

But she said simply: "You know, your father may have been deliberately stalling."

"What?"

"I'm saying that any sensible leader of men and women would have mounted an investigation immediately. I would have sent groups to investigate." She paused. "You were smart to take the initiative where your blood failed to act."

Weiss was surprised to receive praise from this woman. She had killed one of her comrades, taken her prisoner, and kept her alive for the sake of a brainwashing plan that was now dead, and she had done it all while disguising her true identity as the daughter of the man that Blake and her people had wanted to kill.

"You were a bloody fool about it though."

"I know, by not coming with anyone."

"Exactly. You had all the right intentions – you just didn't realize that you were out of your depth." Blake slumped down to the ground. "Did your father ever know how large our army was? Any idea?"

Weiss cast her mind back. Then she shook her head.

"He never said … but in light of tonight's events, I suspect that he may have known, somehow."

"Bastard."

Weiss raised her eyebrows, and sat down next to Blake.

"What is it?" she said.

"Hear me out: from what you've told me, I think that he was biding his time. He knew something was wrong from the beginning, but he was already calculating."

"Explain."

"People in the rest of the country would have started to grow concerned when we started cutting communications in the east. Suddenly they weren't able to interact with an entire section of the country. Don't you think that they would have voiced those concerns to your father? All panicked, all scared for the safety of their villages just in case they were next? He must have known that we could not have ten thousand or more in our army, and seven thousand doesn't quite have the same impact as saying that the invaders have more than ten thousand. Who knows? He might have even said we numbered fifteen thousand or more." Blake held her hands up, examined the ropes. "Anything to manipulate an advantage …"

She trailed off, staring at her hands. After a minute, Weiss grew irritated, and pushed her shoulder.

"Keep going," she urged. "What else?"

"I think he spread false accounts of our numbers among the villages in the other parts of The North. He deliberately inflated the number."

"So?"

"Think about it. If he told the village and family heads that our numbers are something staggering and ridiculous, he could have used that as leverage to conscript from those villages. Use panic to strip his vassals of their protection and add it to his army. Meanwhile, those villages are left completely defenseless – do you think that bandits and highwaymen rest during a war? The heads go back to your father, requesting some muscle to protect their villages, but too late, because they've already been conscripted into his building army. Those parts of the country – those around the border especially – just fall into chaos and disarray, without any way to police their regions."

Weiss had to admit – it was an interesting thought. But Blake's theory was missing something.

"So what he does he gain from doing that?"

Blake shrugged. "I don't know. That's just my theory, anyway."

"But if what you're saying is true …" Weiss said. If Blake was close, then the implications were monstrous. "Then he's calculating … letting his regions tear themselves to pieces in fear, all for the sake of militarizing, enforcing his dominance."

They fell silent again as Weiss absorbed the situation. Being heir for the most powerful family in recent history had become a life that she had unequivocally run away from. In the beginning, she had sought some form of glory, some sort of proof. But now she could no longer see her father as the man she knew before she left. The story of the faunus and the Conquest was a harder being to ignore than it was to accept, and her prisoner now seemed far less the dastardly criminal than just a typical activist. An idealist, even.

She knew that Blake was surprised when she drew her seldom-used knife.

"You're going to kill me anyway?"

Weiss took her by the arm, held it up so she could better see her hands.

"Not exactly."

She kept a tight grip on Blake's arm as she sawed at the rope around her wrists, taking care to hold everything in place. It took longer than she would have liked, a likely testament to her former loathing.

"Thank you," said Blake once the rope split and fell to the ground between them. Weiss handed her the knife so she that she could cut the rope around her ankles herself. Weiss watched as she did it, unsure what to say next. Blake spared her the embarrassment.

"Lady Schnee … Weiss … Weiss Schnee," she said as she cut at the rope, "I'm still prepared to do something unprecedented."

"Oh?" said Weiss. She stood, walked away from the wall. She gazed aimlessly to the sky while she waited for Blake to finish. "What are you prepared to do?"

She heard a grunt, and the thud of something heavy falling to the ground. She heard as Blake stood and took the staggering, unsteady steps of a newly-free woman, until she was by her side again.

"When you told me your name – your true one, not the one you stole – I was obviously surprised, and I believe you were expecting me to turn on you because of it. To take back the hand I was willing to extend. And perhaps some of my people would have done just that. Though, I'll have you know that my people are not exactly skilled when it comes to reaching agreements about how to act."

Weiss felt a corner of her mouth lift, despite herself.

"But when you told me your name, I was surprised because you were something I didn't expect. The daughter – heir, even – of a war criminal, and here you are. Not what I expected from someone with the name of Schnee. You may think of yourself as his daughter, but from what you've told me about him tonight … you should know that I don't see you as anything like that."

"Well, I … changed the color of my hair," Weiss joked lamely. Blake stepped around to face her. She looked serious.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, though?" she said.

"I do, I do. It's just … a foreign thing, really. No one has ever said that to me before."

"Good."

Weiss frowned at her. "But what is it that you're willing to do? That's 'unprecedented', as you say?"

"Think about it. If anybody from Atlas is looking for you, then they have no idea where you are. And I'm going to guess that you aren't exactly in the mood to return there soon. Meanwhile, I've just found out that this entire war, my purpose for landing in this far-flung part of the world, is a lie that was told to my people over a period of decades. Do you think I'm in the mood to return to an army with nothing left to save?"

Weiss only had to think about it for a moment before she gleaned what Blake was suggesting. She stared at Blake with unmasked surprise.

"You want to leave? But where? Where would we even go?"

"The North is a big place, is it not? We have a horse and plenty of supplies. You said it yourself, that this road we're traveling can lead further north; let's follow it that way."

Weiss was astonished. Only hours ago was she dragging this woman around the country, thinking her insane in imprisonment. Now the same woman is free, and proposing that we … what? Run away together? Roam around north?

"That's a ridiculous idea, Blake." She turned to walk away, but Blake quickly held her arm.

"How is it ridiculous? Do you think I want to go back to the army, and tell them that it's a lost cause? Do you want to go back to Atlas, and live behind walls where your father feeds you with lies about the country and the people? Tell me: what good is hiding in a walled city when this world exists?" she said, gesturing vaguely at the sky.

Weiss pretended like the words meant nothing to her.

"But you realize that you're suggesting we abandon everything?

"I do. I'll leave in the morning." She stared firmly at Weiss. Her eyes took on a new determination. "I will travel north. I will find the towns and villages where my people lived in peace. Even if they are but rubble, I wish to see them. To be among the ghosts for a while. And after everything we've learned tonight, I wish that you would come with me. Maybe afterwards, I will return to my army, in whatever capacity it remains. And if that happens, then perhaps I could vouch for you, convince them to let you join us. But those are matters for another time. What matters now is up to you." She paused. "Like I said, I shall be leaving in the morning. I shall awaken early, and be ready to walk just after dawn. If you do not wish to accompany me, then please just prepare my weapons so that I at least will not have to travel unarmed." She let go of Weiss's arm, but held the meaningful look for a moment longer. Then she walked past Weiss, back towards the inn.

It was all happening very quickly for Weiss. The decisions, the healing, the plans for the future.

"Wait!" she exclaimed at last. She turned. Blake was halfway to the door.

"Yes, Weiss Schnee?"

The words spilled out: "What if … I wish to join you?"

When she said the words, she knew that Blake was smiling. She could not see it in the darkness, but she knew it. Perhaps it was insane, to simply disregard all that she had grown up with for Blake Belladonna's spur-of-the-moment decision. An decision that had the potential to go nowhere as much as it promised to thrill her. Something unprecedented.

"If you wish to join to me," Blake said, "then we will awaken early, and we will be ready to travel just after dawn."

Weiss let her go, opting to stay outside a little longer. She considered the skies, feeling a familiar excitement building in her chest. She considered the world.

END OF PART II

Apologies for having to split this story. I did not anticipate that the website was incapable of handling such volume in one document. In any case, as a result of the length of this story I will leave it alone for a while before I post the penultimate and final tracks to this series, Track 11 and Track 12.

Truly Yours, Kalico.