Azrael leaned against the wall of his room, watching the sun slowly rise. Everyone in Azrael's class knew about Summer by this point, but he had instructed them to not mention a single word about it. Most of his students had gone home for vacation, but Team RWBY, Mercury and his teammates, and Cardin and Velvet had all elected to stay at Beacon over the two week break in classes. Azrael was pleased with this—he trusted most of his students, but Cardin was still an unknown quantity as far as the Undead was concerned, and something about Mercury didn't sit right with Azrael. The boy wasn't acting like the others who went with him to Alcova, which should have put Azrael at ease, seeing as the other five students were all clearly traumatized to varying degrees, but the fact remained: Mercury wasn't bothered by it. And that bothered Azrael; no 18-year-old student should have come out of that town as well as Mercury had. Which was why Azrael had asked Summer to stay in Team RWBY's dorm for the time being, and why he was now patiently waiting for Mercury Black to enter the room while the gray-haired young man stood on the other side of the room, with a small woman next to him.
Azrael decided he was done waiting. "I can hear both of you. Enter." The door opened, and Mercury stood there, the ever-present smirk plastered across his features, as it usually was. Next to him was a very short girl with strange hair and eyes. On the left side of her head, her hair was bright pink, but the other half was a rich brown. Her eye color mirrored her hair, her left iris brown and her right iris pink. Azrael had only ever seen heterochromia in one person before: Shanalotte, the Emerald Herald—the woman directly responsible for his success in conquering Drangleic and killing Nashandra. "And who are you, girl?"
The girl cocked her head, a strange expression flitting over her eyes before vanishing. Mercury spoke for her. "This is Neopolitan, she's one of my teammates. She, uh, she doesn't talk."
"I see. Miss Neopolitan, please leave Mister Black and me alone, we need to speak in private." The girl froze, clearly unwilling to leave—for a moment, it even seemed as if she would attempt to force the issue—but a shake of the head from her teammate sent her away. "That's better. Mercury, please close the door behind her, and sit down." Mercury kicked the door lightly as he walked over to the bed and sat. "Now, I would like to talk about what happened at Fort Alcova." Mercury's eyes widened slightly.
"Please, I…I don't want to talk about it."
"I don't care. The faculty has to make sure that all six of you are mentally fit to continue your schooling here." It was true; Azrael found out that this sort of procedure was actually rather commonplace with students returning from dangerous missions. Peter Port had already met with Team SSSN and Coco—the rotund man was apparently a shockingly good counselor—and cleared them, but Mercury had been ducking out of the sessions at every opportunity. "I know it might be hard to talk about, but I will have you speak on it." Azrael's tone brooked neither argument nor refusal.
"I just don't want to talk about it, okay?" Clever. Azrael didn't doubt that Mercury's act worked on everyone around him, but Azrael had been alive for 15,000 years. You don't live that long as a leader without learning how to deal with personal conflicts, and how to spot liars. Mercury's façade was, in a word, ingenious. He put up a front of not wanting to talk about what happened, making everybody who observed him think that he was too traumatized to talk about it—throwing them off the scent of the true deception. Azrael decided a brute force approach would work best.
"You've killed before."
Mercury showed almost no reaction. "Of course I have, we've all killed Grimm."
"I'm not talking about Grimm and you know it. I'm not the police, Mercury, your words will not leave this room."
The boy looked up at the teacher, still imposing, even in a t-shirt and jeans—although the massive facial scar probably had a lot to do with that—and sighed. "I was 15 years old when I killed my dad."
Azrael showed even less reaction than Mercury had a moment earlier. "Why?"
"He tried to kill me."
"Why?"
"He was drunk."
"Stop lying."
"It's not a lie. He was always drunk."
"I believe you, but alcohol wasn't the reason he attacked, was it?"
Another sigh. He's good at this. Mercury was telling the truth, but something was being held back. "No. I told him I was running away. That I had had enough of the drinking, the yelling, the…the beatings."
"I see. So you told him you were leaving home and he attacked you? That seems like an overreaction."
"I'm sure it does to you, but you didn't know Marcus Black. The first thing he did was drag me down to the basement with him. He grabbed a rusted pole just lying on the floor and started beating me with it. At first, he hit me all over, but eventually he started working on my legs. He started screaming at me, over and over, 'I'll make sure you can never run away, you ungrateful little fuck!' After about half an hour, he dragged me back upstairs and threw me in my room. Guess he wanted to let me bleed out, but I knew where he kept his gun." Mercury's left hand was shaking slightly.
Azrael interrupted before the student could go any further. "That's enough, you don't need to continue. So, you murdered an abusive, borderline homicidal father. That's all I needed to hear."
"It wasn't murder!"
"Yes, it was. Your father deserved to die, and I would not have done any different in your place…but you could have waited for your legs to heal and left in the dead of night. You chose to end Marcus Black's life because you wanted him to die, although I sense that you came to terms with that fact a long time ago."
"You're right, and I'd do it again."
"I already told you, I agree with your decision, but murder is still murder." A concerned look crossed Mercury's face. "Don't worry, Mercury. I meant it when I said your words don't leave this room. But I do have one question: how did you survive?"
"After I killed him, I burned the house to the ground and limped out to the road. That's where Emerald found me and took me to a hospital." A lie, but not entirely—and I can live with that, Azrael thought.
"Thank you, Mercury. That's all I need from you. You can head back to your dorm, I'm sure Miss Neopolitan is anxious to see you."
A horrified expression came over Mercury. "You don't know Neo. I think I'm going to go to the cafeteria and get some breakfast first."
"As you wish, Mercury. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have your class's papers to grade." Mercury looked at the stack of papers in the corner of the room and winced. He remembered just how much writing Azrael had assigned in a single week—and how much he expected them to have completed once they got back from break. "Good luck." Mercury saw Azrael's grin, and realized just how much he and Neo had in common.
For the first time, Blake and Weiss were actually having a conversation with Summer without Yang and Ruby present—the sisters had gone into Vale for the day, and Yang had mentioned going out to lunch at some place called "The Club"—and Weiss was more disappointed than anything. This woman, despite having gone through hell, was so damn upbeat. It was like having a second Ruby!
"So, girls, how are your families?" Uncomfortable looks passed between the monochrome Huntresses-in-training. Without saying a word, Weiss somehow lost an imaginary game of rock-paper-scissors, so she went first.
"My sister Winter is doing very well in the Atlesian military. She was recently promoted to Chief Specialist. My brother Whitley's studies in Atlas are also going well."
"What about your parents?" Weiss's jaw tightened, and Blake's bow twitched slightly.
"I…haven't spoken to my father in some time, and my mother is…sick."
A frown marred Summer's features. "Why not? You should always be close with your family!"
"I am, just not my parents." Damn it, why would I admit that? This woman really is just like Ruby, with her damned enthusiasm. Dolts! "Summer, can I ask you something?"
"Of course!"
"What do you think about Azrael?"
"Oh…well, to be honest, he barely talks to me, but he seems nice. Not to mention, he saved my life, so obviously he's a good person."
"I agree. You might not be aware that he is the one who taught me to fight." Weiss took a deep breath and glanced over at Blake, who was watching her teammate intently. "As far as I'm concerned, Azrael is more a father to me than Jacques Gele ever was." Both Summer and Blake looked shocked at the proclamation.
"Weiss…what do you mean Gele?" the Faunus asked.
"You didn't know? He married into our name. Winter, Whitley and I were all brought up to believe that nothing was more important than upholding the Schnee family's legacy—a legacy he has no right to claim!" The heiress's face was bright red as her voice raised.
Summer knew a tantrum coming when she saw one. "Weiss, calm down, honey. I'm sure your father loves you in his own way. You don't have to talk about him if you don't want to." The older woman took Weiss in her arms and simply hugged her. She looked over at Blake as she took a scrap of paper from her pocket. "Blake, I know this might be a bother, but could you go into Vale and buy these ingredients? I think it's time I shared my daughter's favorite recipe with the two of you."
"Of course, Miss Rose."
"Please, call me Summer. I might technically be in my forties, but 'Miss Rose' makes me feel old."
"Alright…Summer." With that, the cat Faunus left the room. Weiss and Summer heard an exasperated yell from outside as Blake opened the sheet of paper.
"What! COOKIES?" Summer started giggling, and Weiss joined in, the older woman's laugh too infectious not to.
"You're certain that's the name he said?"
Vengarl rubbed his throat. "Absolutely. Quelaan. Who is that, anyway?"
"The last Fire Keeper of Lordran has been killed…" Azrael seemed to be speaking to himself rather than Vengarl. "This changes things. If Kirk believes she is dead, then she is…Lautrec. That son of a bitch. He's convinced Kirk that I'm responsible for this." A realization struck Azrael. "Vengarl…who was left behind at Majula?"
"The fighters were Benhart, Bradley, Ray, and Pate. Alvina and Shalquoir were still there when Lucatiel and I left, as well as Gilligan, Karla, Shanalotte, Maughlin, and Ornifex. Why, sir?" No…almost all of them? Azrael looked at his friend, Vengarl's throat and face a mangled mess of light burn scars.
"Vengarl, I need you to make me a promise."
"Of course."
"When Lautrec shows up…leave him to me. I will kill him myself; Shiva too. You can deal with Maldron and Navlaan as you wish."
"But Lautrec is a true Undead, like the two of us…like Lucatiel. The others will die, but he'll just come back."
"I know. I don't plan on stopping at just once."
Ruby looked at the bartender—a man apparently named "Junior", who was almost as tall as Azrael himself—and wondered why she couldn't bring herself to feel happier. She was at Beacon, her first semester was over, and Torchwick was behind bars. Hell, her mother was not only not dead, but exactly as Ruby remembered her (aside from the color of her skin and hair, but that didn't matter to Ruby). Ruby was even in a bar with Yang, drinking her first grown-up drink—Ruby made a note to ask how Yang managed to convince Junior not to charge them any money for their drinks, and why the employees all seemed terrified of them—but something was still bothering her. Ruby turned to her sister, the blonde bombshell happily sipping on her Strawberry Sunrise.
"Yang, can we talk?"
"Sure thing sis. What's up?"
"I don't know, it's just…doesn't any of this seem a bit weird?"
"Rubes, I already told you, Junior and I go way back, it's cool."
"No, not that…it's just, I should be happier. Mom is back! Why can't I feel happy about this?"
"I don't know, Rubes. I'm ecstatic about it—I bet she'll make us some cookies this weekend, would that make you feel better?"
"I'd feel better if we could talk to Dad."
"Ah, there it is. Ruby, you know exactly how Dad would react. The second he found out, he would tear Vale to the ground looking for her. And Mom hasn't even mentioned him to us—like she doesn't remember him. Azrael knows what's best right now."
"I guess…but still, it sucks that we can't even tell him."
Yang sighed. "I know, Rubes…I know. But for now, let's just enjoy our vacation. Come on, there's a new Spruce Willis movie playing this afternoon I really want to see, and I bet you'll love it." Finishing her drink, Yang slammed the glass on the counter and dragged her sister out. Today, Ruby would have a fun day out, or so help her, her name wasn't Yang Xiao Long.
Velvet looked over her pizza at her boyfriend. Cardin Winchester, my boyfriend. Even hearing it in her own head, in her own voice, still shocked Velvet. She was on a date with Cardin. Her boyfriend. Even more shocking was that she was happy. Coco doesn't know what she's talking about. Sure, Cardin was a dick, but whatever it was that Lucatiel told him must have worked. The thought of the older woman's fate darkened Velvet's mood slightly, but not enough to dampen her joy. If something bad really had happened to Lucatiel, Velvet was certain Azrael would've told the class.
Velvet didn't know how for certain long this relationship would last, but she was determined to find out. Beneath his crusty exterior, Cardin was a real softy. He went out of his way to make sure that Velvet was enjoying herself any time they were together, and even managed to get them front row seats at the sold-out premiere of Jaune Wick 2, the new Spruce Willis movie. Velvet found it very, very funny to imagine how much teasing her classmate must have gotten from Nora and Yang about sharing a first name with that character.
"Velvs, what's up? You've been staring at me for like three minutes."
Velvet snapped back to reality. "Oh nothing, Cardin. Just thinking about things."
"Anything interesting?" Velvet smacked his arm. "Heh, sorry."
"You should be," Velvet teased. She grabbed her slice of veggie-lover's pizza and bit into it. Yet another change in Cardin. Velvet had been a vegetarian for all her life—she had tried meat, but didn't really like the taste—and when Cardin learned this, he immediately looked up every restaurant in Vale with veggie options. "Cardin, you're a good boyfriend."
"Only a good one, huh?" He waggled his eyebrows. Oh gods, did Yang teach him that?
"Oh, shut up, you idiot." Velvet reached across the table and kissed Cardin to make sure he'd obey. After a few seconds, she broke the kiss. "I mean it, Cardin. You've been better to me than anyone except Coco has before."
"So there IS competition! I knew it!" Velvet threw the crust of her pizza at him.
"I hope you know you're an idiot, Cardin."
"Smartest idiot you've ever met."
They both laughed, and Cardin dropped a pair of 20-lien notes on the counter, along with a 5-lien tip for the waitress, and they left. As they exited the restaurant, Velvet thought to herself with a smile, I might not know how long this will last…but damn it, I want it to last a long time.
Karla looked at her fellow captives. All four of them were naked, their clothes long since taken from them. It had been months since any of the four had seen the outside of the dingy dungeon cell. As a Child of Dark, Karla was more than comfortable without any light, but Lautrec and Shiva had been less than hospitable to her—and she had dozens of new scars across her body to prove it. Lautrec had forced her and Shanalotte to reopen the portal, but Karla had hoped they would leave them in Majula, so that they could perhaps get help from Andre, or Quelana, or even Patches (for enough of a reward at least), but the sadistic Undead had simply dragged them through the portal with them.
Shanalotte herself looked none the worse for wear, but Karla knew better. The herald might not have had any scars, but then, Shana had long beenadept at covering her own pain. Next to her, the once again blind Fire Keeper of Lothric lay sleeping, her silvery hair matted with blood and viscera. Their monstrous captors had decided that the Fire Keeper didn't deserve to keep the eyes that Azrael had given her, so two days previously, Lautrec had forcefully dug them out of her skull—with his armored gauntlet still on his hand. Sick bastard.
But none of that compared to the torture heaped on the final inhabitant of the dungeon. Considerably less human than the rest of them, Ornifex had suffered greatly at the hands of the sorcerer Navlaan—apparently Ornifex's wings offended the demonic mage for some reason he had not explained. Scars and deep burns crisscrossed her body and every day the sorcerer plucked out the sweet harpy's feathers by hand, one at a time. Her beak had been ground down, almost to the root, and at first, Karla felt the urge to vomit any time she looked at the woman's cruel treatment. Now though, she felt nothing but pure, unbridled rage. She would find a way out of this, and they would all pay.
As Karla stewed in her hatred, the dungeon's door opened up and the banes of her existence walked in. Lautrec spoke, his voice harsh as always. "All of you, get up. We're leaving."
Karla stayed where she was. An armored boot smashed into her face, but still the Darkling was unbowed. "Where are you taking us, monster?" A long lance penetrating her lung silenced her.
"Calm down, Maldron." Lautrec looked towards his captive. "I know you can't die by conventional means, but at some point, the pain must be unbearable. I would have thought you would be more grateful, animal. We're going to see your old friend Azrael, of course!"