I'm sorry!

Anyone can predict the future. Getting it right's the hard part. And fuck me, he got a lot of it right.

The best laid plans of mice and men, he called it. Said it was vengeance. Said it wouldn't be served cold. And here we are, mice in a maze. He warned us, he said it would happen, and it did. Why didn't he do something about it, though? Why was this the only solution?

Maybe it was too late. Maybe this was their only choice: all of this, just for you.

You're not supposed to be flattered.

Kill the Warden.

/-/

The next morning, Vengarl ascended the elevator of Beacon tower. He'd returned the poppet to its resting place after Oz had disappeared into the painting; he was here to see the headmaster himself.

Oz buzzed him in. There were bags under his eyes, and he was clutching his mug of coffee like a lifeline. "I'm going to be frank. You look terrible," Vengarl said.

"It went well."

"Yet you look terrible."

"I didn't sleep well. But my visit went… well, it went well."

Vengarl sat across from the headmaster. "Good. No more secrets, Oz."

Oz nodded, drained his mug, then poured himself another. "Coffee?"

"Please."

Oz poured a mug for Vengarl too, then took a small sip from his fresh cup. "Where to start? With Amber, I suppose."

"Amber?"

"The current Fall Maiden," Oz explained. "Her attacker… hmm. I've told you this already, haven't I? Her attacker stole a portion of her power before Qrow could reach her, and she's now in a coma."

"You did mention that, yes."

"We – that is to say James, Qrow, Glynda, June, and I – have devised a solution." He took another sip of his coffee. "You won't like it, but believe me, we're flying blind. If you can see another option, we'd gladly listen."

"What is it, Oz?" Vengarl growled.

"One of James' top scientists developed a machine that can transfer a soul from one host to another. We-"

"That's – that's barbaric! The soul is-"

"Let me finish!" Oz rose from his seat and leaned on the desk, using his arms to support his weight. He loomed towards Vengarl so close that Vengarl could see the bloodshot veins running through his eyes. He clearly hadn't slept well. "If there were any hope that Amber might recover, I wouldn't go through with it, believe me. But when she dies…"

"The power will seek out its other half?"

"Most likely."

Vengarl grimaced, sipped at his coffee, then cracked his knuckles. It wasn't a pretty situation. Ozpin was right about that. "Would Amber's soul supplant the host's, or coexist with it?"

"I don't know." Oz slumped back into his seat. "One would hope the latter, but it's not something we can easily test."

Vengarl let out a long, low whistle. "Shit."

Oz, rarely one to engage in such vulgarities, merely nodded his agreement. "It gets worse. Amber's not the only Maiden to have been attacked. Anastacia, the Summer Maiden, was killed a few months back. We don't know who inherited her power."

"I sincerely hope you're not going to follow that with 'also, the Spring and Winter Maidens want us dead'."

"Fortunately, I won't. Even better, James has Anastacia's murderer in custody…"

"I'm sensing a 'but'."

"…but he's being hunted by somebody calling themself 'the Fume Knight'."

Vengarl paused, coffee mug halfway to his lips. "The Fume Knight?"

"You know him?"

"Rumours. This was… hmm. Decades ago. When I took leave for Joseph's funeral, remember?" Oz nodded. "There was a folk-tale about the Fume Knight in his village. Some people even said that the Fume Knight killed him. All stories come from somewhere, I know, but I looked into it at the time and it seemed to amount to nothing."

Oz started tapping the holo-keyboard on his desk. "What did the stories say he looked like?"

"Wildly exaggerated, I'm sure. I think he was supposed to be as strong as ten men and as tall as a house. He travelled atop the back of a giant Nevermore, and was heralded by black storm-clouds."

Oz's desk projected a hologram of a man in black armour. His tall helmet must have obscured much of his vision, with only narrow slits to see through. His large pauldrons cut an impressive silhouette. A familiar thin sword was held in his right hand, while in his left was an oversized hunk of rock and metal that Vengarl didn't recognise. But still…

"I know him," Vengarl said, standing to examine it closer. A few details were off, sure, but the armour was unmistakeable.

"You do?"

"He was part of Mistral's kingsguard. I haven't seen him since Halgot bridge."

"He died at Halgot?"

"No. Maybe. I know I wounded him, but I don't know what happened to him afterwards."

"It may be somebody else wearing his armour. The battle of Halgot bridge was over eighty years ago."

"If I'm still alive, he might be too."

Oz closed the file and brought up a search for members of Vendrick's kingsguard. "Don't bother," Vengarl said. "I've tried to find out what happened to him, but with no luck."

"If the armour were passed down, it may be easier to find the new owner if we know the original owner. Do any of these names mean anything to you?" The short list of names came up.

Vengarl shrugged. "I know the armour, but not the name nor the face behind it." He recognised only two names: Victor Schnee, father of the famous Nicholas Schnee and honorary member of Vendrick's kingsguard; and Drummond Hollow, once captain of the kingsguard, who had been slain in one-on-one combat by Joseph Arc himself. The others – Alexander Throne, Nostrum Throne, Raime Marabel, and Velstadt Sanctus – were unknown to Vengarl.

"It's not Drummond," Vengarl said. "I suppose if the 'flying on Nevermore' rumour is true, it could be the Schnee. They certainly have the semblance for it."

"There are other methods, and I think if that were the case somebody would take notice that the Nevermore was white. Besides – I believe he returned to Mantle before Halgot." Oz sighed and tapped his chin. "It couldn't be Velstadt," he said quietly. "That leaves us with Raime Marabel or the Throne brothers."

"I'm not familiar with any of them."

"Neither am I." He closed the article. "Whoever he is, Specialist Schnee has been assigned to hunt him down, along with one of June's students."

"You're involving students?"

"If it's taken you this long to figure it out, I'm afraid I have bad news." Oz removed his glasses and rubbed at his temples. "The only candidates for Amber's power are students."

"I'll accept that, but only out of necessity. Is… what's their name?"

"Artorias Nym is involved at June's request, and I'm afraid her reasoning is not my secret to tell. He's capable, though."

Capable wasn't always enough, though Vengarl wouldn't be surprised if Oz were downplaying Mr Nym's abilities. "Have I met him?"

Oz thought for a moment. "I believe you bumped into each other. The day of the Breach? He was leaving my office when you arrived."

It took Vengarl a moment to remember. "The grey-haired wolf faunus?"

"I believe he prefers 'silver-haired'." Oz put his glasses back on.

"The one who picked a fight with Winter Schnee?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Who he's now working with?"

"Whom," Oz corrected, "and yes. Him."

Vengarl sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you want me to join them?"

"I'll bring this to their attention. Don't worry – they can handle it." He sipped at his coffee, then stood and moved towards the window overlooking Beacon courtyard. "I hear you've been training teams RWBY and JNPR."

"It's not much different to what Glynda does with them – unless the curriculum has changed greatly since I left – but with so few students I can give each of them more attention. They're doing well. I'm particularly impressed by Miss Nikos. She was a tournament fighter, wasn't she?"

"Yes, she was. Despite her relative fame, she's my ideal candidate for Amber's power. What do you think?"

Vengarl stood, and moved to stand next to Oz. Below, the team in question were crossing the courtyard towards the exam hall. Ren trailed behind the rest a little, waiting for Nora to catch up. Jaune nearly walked into the statue, focused as he was on his scroll, and Pyrrha had to steer him away. Vengarl guessed that he was doing last-minute revision. Ruby burst into rose petals and sped away, Yang hot on her heels.

"I forgot how difficult it was to make these decisions," Vengarl said quietly. He felt that, by asking Pyrrha to be the Maiden, they were potentially dooming her. But at the same time, if they didn't ask her, they'd be dooming somebody else.

And he liked Pyrrha. She was nice – perhaps too nice for her own good, but it was endearing, in a way.

"My main concern is that she would give her life for her team, especially Mr Arc," Oz continued. "It's an admirable quality, but as a Maiden she'd need to prioritise her own safety over anyone else's."

Vengarl gritted his teeth. There was no doubt in his mind that if she ever had to trade her life for Jaune's, she would. "What Huntsman or Huntress wouldn't, without a doubt, give their life for at least one other person?"

"You have a point." If it came to it, Nora would sacrifice herself for Ren, and Ren would do the same for Nora. Team RWBY would willingly give their lives for each other too. Back in the day, so would have Team STRQ – well, aside from Raven, maybe. Glynda would have died for Arstor, and Arstor for Glynda. And the rest of their team…

Well. History spoke for itself. Only a Huntress with no-one to lose would make a perfect candidate, but every Huntress and Huntsman was on a team so that they had someone worth fighting for.

"Pyrrha is… she's a good candidate," Vengarl said, with heavy heart.

Oz wordlessly raised his mug. "If we find the assailant quickly, she may not need to be," he said. Vengarl clinked his own against it. Neither drank.

/-/

"Hey! Art!"

Artorias looked up from his lunch a little blearily. Sun was approaching, Yang in tow. Today's first exam had ended some twenty minutes ago, but the third and fourth years had another one to complete after lunch.

"Just Art?" Gough queried, though there was no real menace in his voice. Ciaran seemed indifferent to it all, as did Gil.

"Well, all of you," Yang said, "but mostly Art."

Gough chuckled. "I'm glad to know where we stand."

"We're sitting, actually," Artorias corrected. Ciaran punched him lightly on the arm, but set her fork aside and looked away from the textbook next to her plate.

"So, I was talking to Neptune and Sage and Scarlet and all, cause you know, they're my team so I talk to them a lot. Anyway we were talking – actually, I was doing most of the talking – about-"

"You take too long," Yang said. "Seriously, it took him about half an hour to get to the point when he was talking to my team."

Artorias snorted. "I can imagine." Sun scratched the back of his head awkwardly, though he still wore his usual unbothered grin.

"Here's the deal: us. Vale. A lot of drinking," Yang explained. "Tomorrow night, after our exams."

"Huh." Artorias had almost forgotten already that he'd been considering something similar. "Who's coming?"

"Seriously? Not an instant 'yes'? Don't be a dog, Art," Sun said.

"Is that racist?" Ciaran wondered out loud.

"I struggle to see why this was primarily addressed to Artorias," Gil said.

"Come on, man. We both know you won't want to come," Sun said.

"Besides," Yang said. "Sun said that the plan was to 'party like Vacuans'."

Gough, Gilderoy, and Ciaran all shared looks. "You do know he's the only one of us to not grow up in Vacuo, right?" Ciaran asked.

"I'm in," Artorias said, though he knew he'd probably have to make sure that Winter and he weren't busy. "But seriously, who else is coming?"

"Just me and Neptune, from my team," Sun said. "Sage has his own thing to go to, and Scarlet was – what was it? I think he was going to train. Lame, right? But it's alright – Mercury's coming. He seems alright. Probably more talkative than Sage, actually, so that's a plus."

"And you said something about Team RWBY?"

"Mm-hmm," Yang said. "Weiss thinks that partying like Vacuans translates to partying like – and I quote – 'partying like riff-raff', but I taunted her about being stuck-up until she deigned to join us. Blake wasn't interested though, and Ruby doesn't like alcohol, thank god."

"She's had a drink before?" Gough asked, his eyes widening. "She's fifteen, isn't she?"

"Fifteen with aura," Artorias said. "Besides – did you really wait until you could legally drink before starting to drink? Does Vacuo even have an age requirement?"

"Don't worry, don't worry," Yang assured them. "Our Uncle Qrow offered her a taste once. He mixed it really strong to make sure she'd hate it, so she barely touched it before making up her mind. He's cool. So, how about it? Any other takers?"

"Gil, you're coming," Artorias said.

"I'm not, actually."

"I'm making this decision for you. You're coming."

"Smough is back in Vale tomorrow."

"Gil's not coming then, moving on."

"I too will-"

"Wait, wait, wait. Smough? Art, you didn't tell me Gil was going out with Smough," Sun said, cutting Gough off. "You're going out with Smough, right? I'm not getting this wrong?"

"Who's Smough?" Yang asked.

"He's my boyfriend, yes," Gil said.

"And he's my brother."

"And he's kind of a dick," Artorias finished.

"Oh. So it's not a good idea to invite him along?"

"Definitely not a good idea," Sun said. "I take it you're out too then, Gough?"

"Mm. Sorry."

"All good," Sun said. "He's your brother. Blood's thicker than water and all that, even if that blood is type-A-for-asshole. Ciaran?"

She sighed. "Sure. Why not?"

Artorias feigned fainting. "She's actually coming to a social event. By the gods – I'm not dreaming, am I?"

"Hey, she came to the dance," Yang said. "Ya big meanie."

"Yeah," Ciaran agreed, tapping him lightly on the arm. "Besides, I'd rather not be in the dorm when Gil and Smough get back."

"Actually, he's not allowed on campus," Gilderoy interjected.

"Don't ruin this for me, Gil," Artorias said, pointing an accusing finger at his leader. "Can't pull out now though, right C?"

"I guess I can't."

"Sweet." Yang nodded her approval. "Alright, I've got training in like, ten minutes-"

"Lame."

"-so I'll catch you later!"

Artorias paused, his tuna-and-mustard laden cracker halfway to his mouth. "Training? We don't have any more combat classes, do we?"

"Nah." Sun sat down next to him and swiped a bit of Artorias' food, gagging a moment later upon trying it. "What the hell?"

"Don't ask," Gil said.

Sun held up a finger to indicate that they should wait while he recovered. Finally, he said, "Her team and the other one have been training with that old guy who showed up after the Breach."

"The other team?" Ciaran queried.

"Jaune's."

"Ah."

Sun reached for some of Gough's food. Gough didn't stop him. "Guy's name is Vengarl. Apparently, he's basically Goodwitch on steroids but slightly less scary. Nora's words, not mine."

"Nora's afraid of Goodwitch?" Artorias asked, through a mouthful of food. "I didn't think Nora was capable of being afraid."

"I think even Professor Port is afraid of Goodwitch."

"Okay, C, look, Port's not bad, but he's not some kind of god."

"That's what I'm saying. He's mortal enough to be afraid of Goodwitch-"

"But so deific that nothing else on this world could possibly frighten him?" Gough supplied.

"Precisely."

"Nah," Sun said. "Alright then – I'm not supposed to tell anyone this, so keep it real secret, right? But there's this teacher at Haven who never gets angry, but when he does… oh man, like, he pretty much blows up. I bet he could scare Port and Nora and Goodwitch."

"…why is this supposed to be secret?" Gil asked.

Sun shrugged and ate some more of Gough's food. "He's just kinda embarrassed about it."

/-/

"Good day, Cinder."

Cinder did her very best to not look surprised, she truly did. Surprise indicated a lack of foresight, and lack of foresight was a weakness. Sulyvahn was a man who would exploit any weakness he detected, she knew, but she had no idea whether she'd successfully hid her surprise. Because, truth, be told, it did surprise her to find Sulyvahn in her team's dorm, sitting on a bed with Neo, playing chess.

"Did you attend the exam, Neo?" Cinder asked, keeping her voice flat and calm. Not that it was important for educational reasons, of course. It was just to keep their cover.

Neo – who notably was not in her disguise – shrugged.

"You lied to me, Cinder. I don't appreciate being lied to."

"You don't always get what you want," Cinder said. "Neo, leave us."

"No," Sulyvahn said. "We'll finish this game first. It's your move."

Neo moved a rook across the board to place Sulyvahn's king in check. Sulyvahn blocked it with a knight.

"Miss Sustrai's semblance is rather remarkable, is it not? Very useful indeed," Sulyvahn said.

Emerald hadn't mentioned that he'd learned of her semblance. "What do you want with the painting?"

There was a flurry of movement on the chess board. With one rook keeping Sulyvahn's remaining knight busy, she used her other rook to blitz through his pawns, leaving the board open for her own to advance. Sulyvahn removed the offending piece from the board with a bishop, but the damage was already done. He nodded his approval to Neo, who smiled innocently, capturing that same bishop with her queen.

"My goals are aligned with Salem's," Sulyvahn said at last.

"The relic?"

Sulyvahn neither confirmed nor denied it. There was another long pause as he and Neo made their moves. After a flurry of moves, Neo had three pawns and most of her stronger pieces, while Sulyvahn was down to his king, queen, and one bishop. It wasn't long before even those were lost to him, and Neo placed his king in checkmate.

"Well played," he said. He then turned back to address Cinder. "With a semblance like hers, it would be a waste to kill her. Don't have her follow me." For good measure, Neo dramatically knocked Sulyvahn's king from the bed to the floor.

"Are you backing down?" Cinder taunted. "I thought you would send your pet."

He stood and strode towards her. "You've not ruined me just yet. Although, if you'd prefer, I could have her kill Mercury. It'd be entirely meaningless, of course. She exists to keep you obedient. This is close enough."

Cinder's eyes flashed amber. "Obedient?" She too stepped closer to him, invading his personal space. He did not back down. "If you truly want what Salem wants, there is no need to make me obedientto you."

"You're right," he acquiesced, though he hardly seemed sincere. "It won't be an issue, then, for Miss Sustrai to meet me in my quarters on Saturday morning, will it?"

Cinder pursed her lips. "It won't be."

Sulyvahn nodded, seemingly satisfied, and tried to push past Cinder to the door. But when she raised her hand, he halted. "It's not that simple, of course," she said. "You can't push without getting shoved back a little."

"Yet that is the simplest concept of all," Sulyvahn said. "An eye for an eye. A push for a shove. I believe such ideas might be found in a book called Morality for Dummies. I take what I want, Cinder. Still, I understand. A favour? Is that what you want?"

"I want to know why you need me."

Sulyvahn paused, and his eyes narrowed at her. His face contorted strangely as he thought. He was surprisingly expressive with his eyebrows, she found, when he wasn't actively trying to keep his face blank. She got the impression that he was choosing his words very, very carefully, or perhaps recalling a lesson half-forgotten.

Then he smiled wryly, and his eyes lit up. "Never trust a fire," he said. "There's no way of proving history. What of the battle of Vacuo? What wounded the king of Mantle? Was it a bolt of golden lightning, or was it a knight in blue? Did the Father of Giants march on the broken battlements of Old Oasis wielding a sword of sputtering flame and a sceptre woven with grass? Did bodies really fall from the sky? Were the souls of the slain whisked away by a hunched figure in a red hood? None can say for sure. It is not through battle and conquest that history comes into the world, Cinder. It is through poem and kenning and song."

"For a religious man, you're surprisingly cynical."

"But that's what religion is all about. Words are what remain when the deeds are done," he continued. "Words can shatter faith. Words can start wars. Words can inspire hope or dread, topple walls or even raise the dead. The King of Words became the King of Everything because writing history and making history are but a page apart." He shook himself. "Of course, the deeds need to be done first."

"What deed is it you want me to do, then?"

"Who do you think to be the King of Words?"

She frowned. "Ozpin?"

He chuckled. Even Neo laughed, her mouth agape and her chest heaving, though no sound emerged. "Aye," he said. "I suppose. For now, what's most important is that you become the Fall Maiden. And I was serious about that favour. If you require my assistance with… well, with the Maiden, I'd be happy to help – within reason, of course."

"Noted," Cinder said dryly, gesturing for the door.

/-/

"One in the cockpit, one in the hold. I'll handle the hangar." Winter passed Artorias a pair of tiny orbs, each only slighter larger than a grain of rice.

"These are cameras?" Artorias asked. "They're tiny!"

"It's new tech Atlas has been working on. You can use your aura to turn it on and activate the adhesive."

"The adhesive? Who the hell makes aura-activated adhesive?"

She smirked. "What can I say? Atlas tech is top-of-the-line. You can't turn them off, though. There's a little black dot to indicate the front."

"Can't turn it off? Atlas tech, everybody."

"You shouldn't need to. We solved the problem by giving it an absurd battery life for its size. It should last a month, give or take a few days."

"A month?! My scroll only lasts – what, two days at most? How the hell did they cram enough dust into this thing for a month?"

"I honestly don't know. The head of the military's research and development is a certified genius." She clapped him on the shoulder with her free hand. "Try to put it somewhere it won't be noticed. It's small, but not invisible."

"I'm not a complete idiot, you know," he muttered, boarding the Bullhead.

Looking through the door to the cockpit and out the windshield, he could see her launching herself atop a stack of shipping containers with a glyph, then putting down a camera.

"Show-off," he muttered. He glanced around the cargo-hold; there were eight seats against the walls for passengers along with handles for standing passengers to hold on to. A first-aid kit hung from the wall separating the hold from the cockpit. It seemed as good a place as any – perhaps on the white cross? The camera was more-or-less the same colour, and it could easily be mistaken for lint.

He shrugged and walked over to it, peering closely at the camera. There was little black dot on the front, Winter had said. Little was an understatement. The thing was already damn tiny. But he saw what he thought to be the dot she'd spoken of, and pushed the camera onto the first-aid kit, channelling a little aura to activate it.

It stuck to his thumb.

He swore under his breath and carefully pried it off, making sure not to remove the camera from its intended position.

Next was the cockpit. There were two seats, one for the pilot and the other for the co-pilot, though Bullheads were simple enough to fly that the co-pilot didn't need to do anything. Artorias chose to put the camera atop the doorframe so that it looked out through the windshield and could see the back of the pilot's head. This time, he was more careful about how he placed the camera and successfully fixed it in position without it sticking to his hand.

He disembarked from the Bullhead. Winter was already done, tapping her foot impatiently. "You really like showing off how much faster you are, right?"

"Sorry to bruise your fragile ego," she said. "We split up. There are two places left to check." She handed him a slip of paper with an address on it, then headed for the exit. "You're taking the weapons warehouse."

"The likely-abandoned weapons warehouse… on the other side of town. Nice."

"Across the river is not the same as on the other side of town. Stop whinging."

"You're only going… what? Four blocks, right?"

"I never said mine was any further. You always complain about the littlest things. It's a wonder you ever get anything done."

"What can I say? I've turned insolence into an art form."

Winter looked to the sky and let out a long-suffering sigh. Then, she pulled her scroll from her pocket. "Keep the line open," she said. "Not that I want to hear you whinge more, but-"

"Oh, there'll be no more whinging."

"I seriously doubt that."

"No, I'm in a good non-whinge mood. We're going drinking tomorrow, so-"

"We?"

Oh. Oh. A grin crossed Artorias' features.

/-/

The next afternoon, after all the exams were over, Gough found himself at the Vale airdock, watching for his brother. With the tournament, the festival's main highlight, due to open in only two days' time, it was a busy place. But Smough was still easy to spot through the crowd, being so tall. "Smough!" Gough called.

Smough turned away from the luggage carousel for a moment, and a smile spread across his face as he saw Gough. He offered a wave, grabbed his suitcase, then pushed through the crowd towards his brother.

There was certainly a lot of bad history between them, thought Gough. But it was all forgotten as they pulled each other into a fierce hug. They were just a pair of brothers who'd been apart for too long. "You're looking well," Smough said. "Studying hard?"

"Studying enough," Gough said. "You've gained weight, Smough."

"Hmm? Ha!" Smough slung an arm around Gough's shoulders and pulled him close once more. "Cheeky little bastard," he said, grinning.

Gough couldn't help but smile back.

"Is Gil…?"

"He's back at Beacon. Thought he'd give us a chance to catch up."

"Good, good. And I need to check in, anyway." He picked up his luggage again. "Just need to grab my hammer. Customs was being pissy about it."

They chatted idly as they walked. Gough asked about Smough's work – apparently, he'd still been able to find plenty, despite his lack of official qualifications. Gough talked about the teachers at Beacon, though mostly Professor Port. His impression of the aging teacher wasn't very good, but his exaggerated nonsense rambling elicited a hearty laugh from his older brother. Neither spoke of the half-drunken phone call from months prior.

"Actually, I bumped into Professor Brim before I left," Smough said, shoving his luggage and hammer unceremoniously into the boot of a taxi. The driver glanced back nervously at the two massive men as they got into the back of the vehicle.

"Oh? What did he say?"

"Said he was impressed with how I handled the expulsion. He's offered to teach me over the winter break. Said it'd count as my fourth year."

"He can do that?"

"It's Vacuo. He can do what he wants." Smough tried to shrug, but the movement was impeded by the low ceiling of the taxi. "I'd still need one of the headmasters to sign my papers for it to be official, and he said he hasn't talked to June about it yet. But even if she ends up being a biased bitch about it, there are still three other headmasters I could talk to about it, right?"

"You could be a licensed Hunter? That's wonderful, Smough. I'm happy for you."

"Mm-hmm." Smough smiled. "No more skulking around looking for work. I could just walk right into an academy and use the job board. Not to mention I'd have access to academy weapon forges, kingdom-funded Bullheads, and partial citizenship in all the kingdoms." The taxi pulled up outside the hotel. Smough passed some cash to the driver and they squeezed themselves out of the vehicle. "And most importantly – I get a little pride back."

It was hardly like Smough was lacking in pride, but Gough understood what he meant. "You're going to take his offer, right?"

"Of course." Smough lifted his suitcase and hammer from the boot, then Gough closed it. "Best part is that he can waive the practical stuff. Just need to catch up on the theory and I'm good to go."

"The boring stuff?"

"The boring stuff," Smough agreed, "but at least it'll only be over one winter instead of spread out across a whole year."

"That sounds like a lot of work."

"Your big brother's smarter than he looks, little Gough. And it won't be the first time."

"I'm taller than you."

"Are not," Smough scoffed, making his way to reception. "There should be a room booked under Smough Iris," he said.

"Of course, sir," said the receptionist, a comparatively small man with blue eyes and a nametag that dubbed him 'Glen'. Glen typed the name into the system. "The room's been paid for. I just need some identification."

"Oh, right, shit." Smough dug through his pockets for his scroll, then held it to the terminal. It began to buzz not a moment after it had scanned. Someone was calling him. "I'd better take this," he said.

"Third floor," Glen said. "Room twelve. It's registered to your scroll."

"Thanks. Could you hold this for a second, Gough?" Smough said, passing his hammer.

"Got it."

Smough answered his scroll as they made their way to the elevator. "Smough Iris speaking."

There was a moment where Gough could hear only a faint chatter from the scroll's speaker. Then Smough said, "Stop fucking calling me!"

/-/

"You mean to tell me you invited us out with no idea where to go?" Artorias asked, raising an eyebrow.

Weiss sighed. She was no longer entirely sure why she'd agreed to come. Yang was usually pretty organised, all things considered, but it still wasn't a surprise that her plans hadn't really gone any further 'party'. In Yang's defence, though, it had been Sun's idea at first, so the burden of responsibility should have been on his shoulders.

Still, she thought, scowling a little as the Bullhead lurched unexpectedly, Yang should have known better than to leave it to Sun.

"Hey, I still don't know Vale like a local." Sun looked pointedly at Yang.

"I'm from Patch."

"And I haven't lived there in what? Three years? I don't know which places are still good," Artorias said.

"Huh. I guess not." Sun reclined in his seat. "But you did have a few nights on the town, right? Come on. The 'good spots' should still be good."

Yang smiled devilishly. "We could drop by Junior's," she suggested.

Mercury frowned. "You're grinning. That can't be a good thing. What did you do to... what's his name? Junior?"

"He really hates us," Artorias explained. "Yang beat him up once. It's not a good idea. There was a club near the river that never checked ID that I went to once or twice, but ID isn't an issue for us, right?"

"What kind of a name is Junior anyway?" Mercury wondered. Everyone ignored him.

"Not a fan of that idea," Yang said. Her grin grew wider, and she winked obnoxiously. "Besides - that'd be the real Junior's." Weiss stared at her blankly, as did everyone else. "You know? Like, everyone there would be really young?" More blank stares. "No takers? Not even you, Art?"

"Sorry."

"I got it," Ciaran said quietly.

"Thank god."

"I didn't think it was very good, though."

"Lame."

"What did you used to do, Yang?" Neptune asked.

"Hmm? Oh, there's a liquor store on Patch. One of the employees was super old and half-blind and never checked our IDs anyway, so we bought drinks when it was his shift. We'd just sneak out to the old airbase on Patch, get wasted, sober up a little, then head home."

"We are not going all the way out to Patch tonight," Weiss said. There were nods of agreement from Sun, Neptune, and Ciaran. Mercury met the statement with indifference.

"And that worked?" Artorias asked, addressing Yang still. "Mum was on my case whenever I had more than a drop."

Yang shrugged. "I was careful. Dad never noticed. Uncle Qrow did, of course, but he was cool about it."

"Isn't he the one who put Ruby off drinking entirely?" Ciaran asked.

"Yeah, but that's Ruby. I'm Yang," Yang said, as though it explained everything. "There's a difference."

Weiss couldn't disagree. While there were certainly times that they seemed carbon copies of each other, their differences were still often on display. While Yang was the protective sort, more responsible than she let on but still playful and childish at heart, Ruby was naïve and idealistic but still driven to achieve whatever goal she set herself.

With a shudder, the Bullhead touched down at the Vale airdock. They all departed, some throwing back a 'thanks' to the pilot as they left.

"Seriously though," Neptune said. "We need to know where we're going."

"There's still the strip of bars and clubs along the riverside," Yang said. "At least one of them oughta be good."

"We don't have too high standards, do we?" Sun asked. "Cheap drinks, a corner quiet enough to talk, and a dancefloor. Shouldn't be too hard, right?"

"You'd be surprised," Mercury muttered.

As it turned out, Sun was in the right: it wasn't too hard. They dropped by only two bars before they found one they found acceptable – a place called Fat Goliath. None of them had been there before, but it wasn't bad, even by Weiss' standards. The bartender, a Mistrali boy who couldn't be much older than them, smiled and nodded to them as they entered. It was clearly a club before it was a bar, with music playing loudly from speakers situated all throughout the building, but away from the dancefloor it wasn't too overpowering. Being a Wednesday night, it wasn't very busy, though there were still a fair few groups of patrons huddled around their respective tables.

They claimed a table in the corner. "I'll get the first round," Sun said. "Who wants what?"

"Rum-and-cola," Mercury said.

"Neat scotch," Ciaran said.

"Girl's got class. Vodka-cranberry," Neptune said.

"Really, dude?" Yang asked. "Vodka-cranberry? Really?"

"Hey, I'm allowed to drink whatever I want."

"Pfft. Strawberry Sunrise."

"With an umbrella," Artorias added. "Don't forget the umbrella."

"Hell yeah." Yang leaned back in her seat, lacing her fingers behind her head.

"Scotch on the rocks for me, by the way," Artorias said.

"Got it. Weiss?"

Weiss felt a little caught in the spotlight. "They don't serve wine here, do they?"

"Probably not," Sun said. "And if they do, it's probably not very good."

Weiss hesitated. Though she'd had a little wine at family functions in the past, it was never more than a sip. Still, she knew enough from that alone to know that she didn't mind the taste of wine. Liquor, however, was foreign to her.

"You've never had a drink, have you?" Artorias asked.

"What? I have too!"

"What do tequila, vodka, and rum taste like?" Mercury asked.

"I don't know how to describe them."

"Then you've clearly never tried them," Yang said. "Rum burns, vodka tastes like hard labour, and tequila tastes like death."

"It's nice death, though," Neptune said.

"Well, yeah, otherwise nobody would ever drink it."

"Whiskey's a safe start," Ciaran advised. "Either water it down or mix it with cola."

Weiss looked to Yang for confirmation. The blonde shrugged, then nodded. "Beer's a lighter drink, but I doubt you'd enjoy it. Watered down whiskey won't kill you, though. But still, pace yourself."

"I can be responsible."

"With the first drink," Neptune said. "It gets harder after that."

Weiss nodded. "To be forewarned is to be forearmed, I guess. Whiskey it is."

"Sure thing," Sun said. "Can someone help carry?"

"I'll come." Neptune pushed himself up, and the two of them made their way to the bar.

Yang plonked herself right down next to Weiss. "Alright, we're all for having a good time, but no over-drinking, you hear me?"

It took Weiss a moment to realise that Yang was talking more to her than anyone else. "Wait, what?"

"I'm not going to haul you back to Beacon passed out."

"And your sister would kill me if you got wasted on my watch," Artorias added.

"I can handle myself. Don't worry," Weiss said. "And what do you mean, Winter would kill you? Winter would kill me!"

"We'll take her together. Two-on-one, comrades in arms. Come on, she can't kill us both!"

"I'll help too," Mercury offered.

"That's the spirit!" Artorias cheered.

"That's not the- you know what? Never mind." Weiss crossed her arms. "It's not like she knows I'm drinking tonight."

Artorias coughed.

"She does?"

"I may have mentioned it." Why he and Winter were spending so much time together, Weiss didn't know. When she'd asked her sister, she'd only been told that it was classified.

Ciaran and Yang shared a glance. "We're doomed," Yang said. Ciaran nodded her agreement.

Sun and Neptune came back, drinks in hand. "Hold up, I've already forgotten who gets what."

"Rum here."

"Umbrella here."

"The scotches for the classy older students," Artorias said.

Weiss snorted. "Classy? You? Please. I've seen more class in a communist manifesto."

"Nice one," Ciaran said, the only other person who seemed to get her joke, "but don't lump me in with him."

"Sorry."

"Alrighty then," Sun said, passing Weiss her drink and taking a seat of his own. "A toast?"

"Heated bread," Yang and Artorias said together. Grins spread across both their faces, and they hi-fived over the terrible, terrible pun.

"Shush," Ciaran said. "You're both as bad as each other. To another semester gone?"

It was as good as anything to drink to. "To another semester gone!"

/-/

"I'm kinda surprised Neptune's still alive," Artorias said. He was on – what? His fifth? Sixth drink? He'd lost count. The liquor was hitting him really hard now, either way – it'd been hitting him pretty hard for a while, actually – and it took a lot of concentration to form complete sentences.

"Meaning?" Weiss was the only other one still at the table. The others were dancing. Sun and Ciaran were doing a clumsy waltz-tango-something-or-other, laughing as they tripped over each other, Mercury looked like he wanted to die as a drunk Yang bounced him around the dance floor, and Neptune was awkwardly shuffling alongside them, though he still seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Well, I told Winter, see, I told her that you and Neptune may or may not be an item."

"Oh." Weiss sipped at her drink. "We're not."

"You're not? I mean, I missed a lot at the dance, but I heard that you and he shared a private dance." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"You look ridiculous," Weiss scoffed.

"I try very hard."

"Don't get me wrong, I like Neptune," Weiss said slowly. "It's just… I mean, I thought he was kinda cute, I guess. Actually, really cute. But, l – hold on." She had a bit more to drink.

"Easy there."

"I know my limits," she scolded, clearly lying. "Neptune just isn't want I'm looking for. Gah, I explained it way better when I was talking with him about it."

"Take your time."

"Hmm." She drank again. "I want to do a lot of things. I want the Schnee family name to not be… to be good again – oh, you know what I mean, right?"

"I think so?"

"Good enough for me. I want that, and I want to be a Huntress, and I want a team who loves me and I can love back. You know? And a boyfriend never really factored into it, so when I met Neptune I had to think about that. And it was kinda like, well, if we were to date, I decided that that responsibility would be subservient to all the other responsibilities I care about, you know?"

It took Artorias a moment to process it. "I think I get it, yeah."

"Don't get me wrong, Neptune's a good guy. He's fun to hang out with, and god, he's attractive. Blue hair? Sidetracked, sidetracked. Basically, I like him, and I appreciate how good he looks, but he's not the one for me, and now's not the time for it anyway. You get what I'm saying, right?"

"Makes sense," Artorias said. "Okay, but if Winter tries to kill him-"

She shrugged. "I won't stop her. It was fun to see her beat you up."

"Hey!"

"No offence."

"Plenty taken." She drained her current drink – Artorias had no idea how many she'd already had, nor what was in this one – and coughed a little as it went down. "Okay, but Winter threw a lot of weight into that slap. There's some history there, right?"

Artorias choked on his scotch. "History?"

"Who's got history?" Yang asked, plonking herself down in the seat next to him.

"Nobody's got history!"

"It came out wrong; I didn't mean to imply you'd slept with her – god no, she could do way better than you."

"I feel like I'm missing something," Yang said.

"Hey, I'm a very… I'm a reasonably- you know what? Fine." He slumped down in his chair. "What happened to Mercury?"

"He's getting me another drink."

"Is that really a good idea?" Weiss wondered.

"Okay, I know you two are under the table, but really? Really? I'm still, like… I can go a few more."

"Yeah. Clearly." Artorias shook himself and massaged his temples, trying to restore a little clarity to his world. "Wait, Mercury's getting you another drink? He's not into you, is he?"

"If that's what counts as a date in your world, you need some higher standards, Wolfy."

"Well, no, but buying drinks for someone is part of it."

"Both of you can rest assured he's using it as a bribe to make me stop dancing with him. That's it."

"Did I ask?" Weiss asked.

"No need to be rude."

"No, seriously, I don't remember if I asked."

Artorias and Yang shared a glance. "Yeah… I think we should cut you off."

Weiss nodded, looking down at her empty glass. "You're probably right," she muttered. But then Mercury arrived with more drinks than just for himself and Yang. "Thanks, Merc," Weiss muttered, taking the offered drink.

"Not a problem," he said, handing Yang another Strawberry Sunrise and Artorias a glass of liquor – it smelled like cinnamon. "What did I miss?" Mercury asked.

"Dunno," Artorias said. "Poking fun at you and Yang, I think."

"Oh, ha ha," Yang drawled. "You and Weiss were talking about history. I think we should go back to that."

"I'm hooked on the conversation already," Mercury muttered.

"Nah, not history history," Yang clarified. "Like, history. You get what I mean?"

"Ah. I see."

"There's no history there, though!" Artorias objected.

"With whom?" Weiss asked. "Oh. Right. Go on."

"Hang on, I'm missing something. Who is it?" Yang asked.

"Look, I'm just proud to say Winter finds me 'insufferable'. Alright? If that's history, sure, whatever. But, I mean, we're still good friends." He leaned in closer. "Don't tell her I said this, but she's also really cool."

"She'll be glad to hear it," Weiss said smugly.

Mercury raised an eyebrow. "Winter? As in Schnee? She kicked your ass though, didn't she?"

"Like I said. Insufferable." Artorias raised his glass in mocking toast, then drank. He should have expected it given the smell, but he was surprised to find it was fireball whiskey, burning and tingling pleasantly as it went down.

"Here's to- what are you doing?" Yang asked, as Artorias fished his scroll from his pocket.

"Calling someone, duh."

"No, no," Weiss muttered. "Why would you – don't do it, Zwei. Don't do it."

"Shush, I'm not calling Winter." He flicked through to contacts, then scrolled down to 'Q'. "I'm calling my– wait, who's Zwei?"

"Where's Zwei?"

"I swear you said- nevermind. I'm calling my ex."

Yang winced. "That's never a good move, Wolfy."

"Okay, look, things were pretty great for a while- hey!" Weiss snatched his scroll from his hands. "That's not fair."

"Who named these 'Q' people anyway? Your contacts list looks like a Bullhead crashed into it. You're not getting this back until you sober– oh hey look I've got a call," she said, the scroll buzzing in her hand.

"That's not your scroll!" Artorias said, even as Weiss answered the call anyway.

"Artorias, we've got an emer- oh. Hello, Weiss," said Winter Schnee.

I think I've said this before, but for those unaware, I intend to take a hiatus once TFI reaches the end of V3. The main reason is that I want to know what Watts, Hazel, and Lionheart are capable of and what Raven's bandit tribe is like before heading into V4. Hopefully, canon V5 will shed some light on these topics.

The good news is that I'll be writing something else in that hiatus, but I'm not yet sure what. These are the options:

The Gospel of Lapp - Remnant's ancient history as told by Patches himself, from 'Let there be light' to 'The Red Hood cometh'.

OR

Special Beings Have Special Souls - A Great War-era fic following Vengarl from his very first battle all the way through to the treaty of Vytal.

Let me know which one you'd prefer to see through reviews, PMs, or through the poll on my profile. Whichever one I end up writing will probably be accompanied by some omakes (thanks pancake800 for the suggestion).

Hopefully I'll be on time next chapter (I'm sorry!).

Next chapter - September 15th.