Azrael pulled his spear from a body as his last adversary fell to its knees, the corpse slowly dissipating. His classroom was nearly empty, with only Vengarl leaning his considerable bulk against the door, ensuring no distractions. It was a technique Azrael had learned after conquering Drangleic, one that became very useful when access to Shanalotte or the Fire Keeper was cut off. Sometimes Azrael's strength wasn't enough, and so he would summon shades of the late King Vendrick's forces to spar with. And Vendrick had a very large, very diverse military. Azrael almost never used it before Remnant, but without a bonfire or his retinue, he had been forced to make due—and the technique's similarities to Weiss's and Winter's Semblance were not lost on him.

These warriors in particular were the Archdrake Knights, guardians of the Shrine of Amana. Clad in thick white robes and ornate helmets, the Knights lived, fought, and died in waist-deep water, for so long that they had learned to move through liquid with the same speed as most men moved on dry land. They used their large hammers and decorative shields to keeps enemies at long range and pummel them from afar.

Azrael, on the other hand, was half-naked, wearing only a pair of leather pants and forsaking a shield as he dodged and ducked around his enemies. Vengarl noted that, somewhat inexplicably, Azrael's Darksign was almost completely dormant, appearing for the moment to be nothing but a spiral scar on the back of his left shoulder. During this session, Azrael decided that he would focus on longer-range melee encounters, and so he had settled on Santier's Spear. The haft of the spear was enormous, nearly as tall as Azrael himself, and the entire weapon was made from masterfully forged steel. But the most unique aspect of this particular weapon was the spearhead—or lack thereof. At the top of Santier's Spear, a massive stone skull covered most of the spearhead, with only about three inches of blade poking out of the end. Santier was by far one of Azrael's most dependable weapons—according to Ornifex's analysis, while the skull could theoretically be broken through a sustained and monumental effort, the spear itself was enchanted so as to be completely unbreakable, and on the rare occasions when his usual weapons cracked or broke, Santier had always seen him through long enough for Andre or Ornifex to repair them.

"Not quick enough on the recovery, Azrael. Again."

Azrael nodded at Vengarl's words. He was right—Azrael was having trouble reversing the direction of Santier on glancing blows. The skull was made from solid rock, weighing almost forty kilos, so it would gain enormous momentum whenever Azrael swung it. It was useful for direct hits, but impractical and unsafe otherwise. Azrael looked at Vengarl. "Do you think you can break this boulder?"

The Forossan stroked his chin, thinking for a moment. "Hand it here, let me test it." Azrael tossed the spear to Vengarl, quickly summoning a stone soldier between the two of them. Without hesitation, Vengarl leapt at the statue, swinging Santier over his head in a massive arc before Vengarl's foe could even react. Stone skull met stone helmet…and stone helmet gave way. The stone soldier crumbled immediately, crushed almost into dust under Vengarl's immense strength. Vengarl turned to Azrael after looking pointedly at the unscathed skull. "I think it's a lost cause, sir."

"It's just as I thought. Damn it," Azrael responded, frowning slightly. After a moment, inspiration struck. "That's it! Vengarl, give it back, if you would." The larger man handed the spear back to his mentor. "We might not be able to break it, but I can still mitigate the negatives by keeping the momentum going. I've been using Santier all wrong—watch." Vengarl had returned to his post leaning against the door, but his eyes narrowed—watching Azrael improve his fighting was always enlightening.

Azrael summoned eight Archdrake Knights. Moving his grip from two-handed to one-handed as the knights charged him, Azrael swung Santier in a massive counterclockwise arc, landing multiple hits in a single swing—killing two knights outright and knocking three more back. As the remaining three continued charging, Azrael grinned. Rather than bringing the spear back to them with a weakened backhand slash, he allowed his shoulder to twist and simply continued the momentum of the weapon—using a full 360O attack, bringing Santier back over his right shoulder and down again. The massive blow killed another knight as the point of the spear wedged itself in the ground. Using the impromptu lever as a brace, Azrael lifted his entire body over the four remaining knights, pivoting the spear as he moved through the air and landed behind them, his pyromancy flame readied. The ensuing blast nearly set the classroom on fire, but all four knights had been incinerated.

Even after all these years serving under Azrael, Vengarl was still constantly surprised by the man. As easily as thinking it, Azrael had completely switched his fighting style in the middle of a fight, starting out with a vicious heavy attack that flowed into a nimble evasive dodge, and ended with another brutal attack. Vengarl had more brute strength than Azrael, but the scene before him reminded the giant of two things: first, that he would be hopelessly outclassed against his leader, and second, that he was extremely glad that it had been a mysterious woman, and not Azrael, who had attempted to burn him to death. Azrael turned to Vengarl expectantly.

"Well, what do you think, my friend?"

"Holy shit, sir."

"That's enough for now. You're relieved for the rest of the day, I need to speak with someone." Azrael chuckled as the two quickly cleaned up the room and left. In the silence they left behind, nobody noticed two small birds, a raven and a crow, fly out the open window from their perch on the ceiling.

"That's the monster teaching my daughter—your niece? How could you let this happen, you fool? You KNOW that Salem has a pyromancer in her employ, brother!" Raven stood arguing with Qrow on the roof of Beacon, beyond livid, vitriol coating her every word.

"Rave, trust me, it's not him."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"A couple reasons. First off, I doubt Azrael would call himself "The Red Queen", it's not exactly his style. Second, the Queen was in Mistral until a month ago—Azrael's been teaching at Beacon for the entire semester. And finally, the bigger one, Vengarl? He fought the Queen at the dance a week ago, and has the burns and a destroyed elevator to show for it." Qrow paused before he reluctantly continued. "And there's the small matter that even if he was working for Salem, we might not be able to kill him outright—especially while Vengarl is still around."

If Qrow could've bottled and sold the expression on Raven's face at that moment, he was fairly certain Taiyang Xiao Long would go bankrupt.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I saw the big man and his partner—a woman named Lucatiel, almost as scary as you—slaughter an entire herd of Beowolves on their own."

"And that's supposed to impress me?"

"With Semblances or Aura. Big man down there killed the Alpha with his bare hands."

Raven raised an eyebrow. "Bullshit."

"You know I don't lie to you, Rave."

"If that's true then I'm going to recruit them for the tribe."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Qrow pulled out his Scroll and brought up the recording Ozpin had sent him of Azrael killing Amber, the Fall Maiden. "Unless you want your trump card to meet the same fate, I'd stay away from him, Sis."

"And…and he's still teaching here? That foolish old man still trusts him?"

"Yes. And if Oz trusts him, then so do I."

"You're both idiots, and it will be the death of you and everyone else in this school." Raven transformed into her bird form and flew off. Qrow frowned as she left.

"You might just be right, Raven." Qrow noticed two strange cats on the roof staring at him. He transformed and flew off, extremely ready to never remember the next six days of alcohol-fueled debauchery. I sure hope Junior hired some new girls.

Blake was walking back from the cafeteria when she rounded a corner and crashed headlong into Azrael, nearly toppling as she bounced off the teacher. "Ah good, I was just looking for you, Blake. Can we talk in private?" Azrael didn't take his eyes off of Blake's bow that covered her cat ears, leaving no doubt as to the subject of the conversation.

"I'm actually busy with homework, sir."

"No, you aren't." Damn it, how does he always know? "Come, we'll talk in my room." They walked for fifteen minutes in silence until finally they reached Azrael's secluded dormitory. As Blake entered, she noticed that Summer had apparently started decorating—or at the very least, the completely bare room was now slightly less bare. Now the window had blinds, and the bed had an actual blanket.

Azrael closed the door behind them. "Sit." Blake obeyed, plopping down on the bed. "Why are you still wearing the bow? Surely the rest of your team knows about your heritage?"

"They do, it's just…it's hard to let go."

"The longer you wait, the harder it will get. I assume Team RWBY plans on competing in the upcoming Vytal Tournament?"

"Yes…why?"

"It pains me that you haven't listened to my advice. If you participate in the Vytal Tournament and I see you wearing that bow, I will be extremely disappointed."

"Why is this so important to you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why does it matter so much to you that I get rid of the bow? You keep prodding me to reveal everything about myself, as if it will make everything I did with the White Fang just disappear!"

"Why are you so determined to blame yourself for the actions of people around you? A terrorist group who, if I recall correctly, you were born into?"

"BECAUSE IT IS MY FAULT!" Blake barely choked back a sob. "I was the only one who could've stopped him if I had just tried harder."

"Stopped who, Blake?" The Faunus looked up at her teacher, before responding in a low voice, nearly a whisper.

"Adam…"

"Who is this 'Adam'?"

"He…he was my friend. He was an orphan who joined the Fang back when it was still peaceful, but when the leader stepped down, Sienna Khan became the new leader, and Adam was promoted to the head of the Vale branch. Soon after that, the Fang stopped doing peaceful protests, and we slowly got violent. Small things at first…destroying a couple Atlas mechs during a robbery on an SDC storeroom, blowing up a Dust warehouse with nobody inside. But soon Adam started to change. At first it was avoiding casualties, then it was minimizing them. Then it became 'No Faunus casualties' …then there was the train. The two of us hijacked a train with dozens of people on it! Humans, Faunus, it didn't matter to him anymore. That's when I left Adam and ran off to Beacon."

"I see." Azrael thought about a conversation he had overheard Jacques and Ironwood having, five years earlier. "Blake, this Adam…he never changed, he simply allowed you to see more."

"What are you talking about?"

"I recognize the crimes you spoke of. The SDC doesn't use Atlas mechs—Jacques employs his own human-exclusive security force. And the 'abandoned' warehouse? It had employee living quarters. Jacques preferred to have his Faunus workers close to their jobs at all times."

Blake's face froze, and tears began to well up in her eyes. "But Adam said…I set some of those explosives! No, no, no, no…" Abandoning all pretense, Blake curled up on the bed and sobbed. Azrael let her cry for a few minutes.

"Blake…"

"No, no, it can't be…"

"Blake."

"Adam how could you."

"BLAKE!" The Faunus nearly fell off the bed in shock. "Blake, I need to ask you a question. How many people do you think I have murdered in my life?"

"What?"

"Not just killed, that number is far too high to keep track of. I mean cold-blooded, unprovoked, pre-meditated murder."

"None."

"Incorrect. Eight."

"But…why?"

"One for revenge. Six of them were because I wanted to feel them die by my hand. The last one…she died because she spurned my service and I lost my mind over it. I've killed many in service of Velka, killed even more defending people I hold dear. But I have committed eight murders in my life."

"Who…what were their names?"

"Nobody you would know. Jeremiah was revenge. The rest were utterly indefensible crimes. Siegliende. Creighton. Felkin. Cale. Horace. Leonhard. Yorshka."

Blake shifted uncomfortably towards the door. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I realize that I have a very, very personal secret of yours, one that could ruin your new life here, but you had no dirt on me, so to speak. There was an imbalance, and I have corrected it. But this is secondary to the main issue, and I digress. I want to convince you to take off the bow and leave it here."

"You can't just gloss over what you just told me like it never happened!"

"I am not, I am simply moving the conversation in another direction. But fine: please do not tell anyone that I was once a serial killer. I hope that you can trust me when I say I am not that person anymore. Now then, I want to show you something." A hundred things ran through Blake's mind, from Azrael pulling out the bodies of the eight people he had just named from under the bed, to ridiculous tawdry scenarios straight out of her "novels". Just as she dismissed those thoughts as completely insane…Azrael began to strip. Blake couldn't even speak, so she just blushed crimson.

Azrael paused. "What's wrong?"

"Why are you taking off your shirt?"

"Because I need to show you something important."

"And what could possibly be so important that it's hidden inside your damn pants?"

"It's not in my pants." Blake froze, completely confused. Azrael finished removing his shirt and turned around, and Blake understood. On Azrael's mostly smooth back, near his left shoulder, there was a strange spiral scar—but it wasn't the shape that was so disconcerting. The scar was black and pulsating, throbbing as if to simulate a heartbeat. "This is my Darksign. Right now, it is active—I am focusing its power to show you the true Mark of the Undead. It is my pride and my shame, my curse and the source of my power, all in one. Most importantly, in my world, it is the mark of an abomination."

"Why is it…pulsing like that?"

"I can't keep its power at a constant level—to do so would allow my inner humanity to run wild, and if I did and Vengarl was unable to kill me, the entire Kingdom might collapse from the resulting damage." Azrael spoke about unimaginable death and destruction as if it was as normal as discussing the weather.

"I…I still don't understand."

"Let me put it another way, Blake: you and I have something in common. You hide it, but anyone who asks me to see my brand, may see it. I do not advertise it, but I am no longer ashamed. I am an Undead, and proud of it. You are a Faunus, and a strip of cloth doesn't change that. You may leave now, if you wish."

Blake sat on the bed for only a couple seconds before reaching to her head and untying the bow. She dropped it on the ground and walked to the door. Before she left, Blake turned back to Azrael. "Thank you, Professor."

"I told you not to call me that."

"Only because you think you haven't earned it, Professor."

Tukson always hated travelling—perhaps that was why he had put off leaving Vale for so long. But now, the wolverine Faunus was cursing himself for his procrastination. Tukson knew exactly who Mercury and Emerald were. He knew why they were here. He knew that he couldn't beat either of them.

In short, Tukson knew he was about to die.

"So…you don't have "Third Crusade"?"

"No…"

"But what was your motto again?"

Tukson sighed in defeat. "Tukson's Book Trade: Home to every book under the sun."

"Except "The Third Crusade"."

"It's just a catchphrase."

The mint-haired girl scowled. "It's false advertising!"

"Is your friend just going to stand there or is he going to make a purchase?" Tukson looked over Emerald at Mercury, who was leaning against the store's entrance, arms crossed, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

"It doesn't matter. You shouldn't make a promise you can't keep, Tukson." As his partner grilled the book seller, Mercury rubbed his eyes and hit the switches next to him, dimming the lights and blacking out the storefront. "I hear you're planning on leaving. Going all the way to Vacuo. Your brothers in the White Fang wouldn't be happy to hear that—and neither are we." Emerald glared at him, violence brewing behind her eyes. "You know who we are, don't you?"

"Yes."

"And…you know why we're here?"

"Yes."

"So. Are you going to fight back?" Tukson paused, his mind heavy with the knowledge that all three occupants of his store knew exactly what was about to happen.

"Yes!" Tukson leapt over the cashier's table, his claws extended. Before he could land a single blow, a green blade sliced open his throat, easily shattering his Aura. Within seconds, Tukson's blood had coated his beloved books, and the Faunus was dead.

Emerald looked at her partner, who had turned around, apparently unwilling to watch it happen. "Merc, are you kidding? Now you're getting cold feet?"

Mercury scowled. "Look it's…never mind." The pair quietly left the store, careful not to step in the blood streaming out of Tukson's motionless corpse.

Hey guys, Queequeg here. I know I have a standing rule against A/Ns, so I'll keep this short. Basically, this is a plug for another writer here: head on over to PaulBlartorias's page and give his story "The First Immortal" a whirl. It's a Dark Souls crossover but he decided to put his story in the main RWBY category. It's only three chapters in right now, but so far, I'm really liking it. I am so glad that so many people enjoy Maidens, Ashes and Souls so far, so I feel compelled to send some of you guys over to him. You will be able to find his story on my Favorite Works on my profile. Send him some love, guys!