Here we are, at long last. The Ringed City. This is the lock, the seal, the gateway to the real world.

And why, oh why – why on my own gods-forgotten name is she here? Why did he let her join? She doesn't belong here, I know that much. "I will do my part. I will stand when the rest have fallen." Ignorant, idealistic, arrogant…

And he let her!

We're not the bad guys, are we? We just want to be free. Is that so wrong? Stupid girl. So naïve.

But don't get me wrong. She's a part of this.

I suppose he thought she was necessary. Just like me.

There's no turning back. One last time: her death for our freedom. Kill the Warden.

/-/

"You alright?"

Artorias nearly jumped out of his skin. He'd been deep in thought. "Eh," he said, shaking a hand in a so-so manner. "I'm fine."

Ciaran nodded, though he was sure she didn't buy it, then went back to watching the ceremony.

Gods. There were actual gods, or there had been at any rate. He still wasn't quite sure what to make of that – after all, as Lapp had once put it, if the gods no longer did anything it hardly mattered that they existed. But, regardless of matter or meaning, the claim that gods had once walked Remnant was… staggering, especially when Ozpin could back up such a claim.

However, he'd been careful to make a distinction between gods and immortals. Though the Lord of Sunlight had once styled himself as a deity, Ozpin had instead referred to the immortals as lords, in reference to the Legend of the Lords. Or, perhaps, it had been the other way around – Artorias wasn't clear on that point. Had the title of lord come first, or had the story come first? Did it matter?

Well, no. It didn't. Especially given, as Ozpin had said, that no such souls existed to his knowledge. Certainly there were relics left behind by the gods – Creation, Destruction, Knowledge, and Choice – each hidden within the Hunter Academies. Though Ozpin had made clear that the relics, more than anything else, were on a need-to-know basis, he'd seen fit to mention that June and Shade guarded Choice; a golden crown with great jagged spires.

And June… Artorias suppressed a shudder as he recalled her corpse. Every time he considered the possibility that he'd been dreaming, he saw her blood-soaked body again in his mind's eye. He'd been meaning to call her ever since, but… well, he simply wasn't ready. He'd seen her dead, and it'd be a lie to say it hadn't affected him.

"Arty!" Ciaran called, flicking him on the cheek. "You're not watching."

"It's just Vale," he mumbled. They'd all agreed to watch the broadcast of the opening ceremony. It wasn't of much interest – not until the matchups were revealed. Each kingdom had a chance to show off their culture. Vale was represented musical song and dance number, and an over-the-top one at that. The camera occasionally cut to extremely wide shots of Amity, revealing that they had freaking airships flying in formation to create a strange aerial dance. Small airships, sure – one-man craft at most – but still, they had dancing airships.

He wasn't sure if he was impressed they'd gone to the effort, disappointed that taxes had been spent on it, or bemused at what a terrible idea it was in the first place.

Still, it was Atlas' showing he'd enjoyed the most. In typical Atlas fashion, they'd represented their strength with a military march, though to spread the message of unity and peace they'd bedecked their soldiers with flowers and painted their armour bright colours. Even better, they hadn't just brought in the rank-and-file footsoldiers, but a few specialists as well.

Including Winter. She was in Vale, after all, so why not?

There was no way any of this was Ironwood's idea. There was no way he'd approved of it. Artorias could only imagine he'd been outvoted hard by the council – if it were even the council who decided these things. He didn't care how it'd happened, but watching Winter sullenly march at the head of a squad of soldiers with a bright yellow tulip pinned to her new colourful uniform and struggling to suppress a scowl was utterly priceless.

He'd have to be careful what he said around her now, though. Ozpin had been clear that even Ironwood knew very little, in the grand scheme of things. Winter was not to know anything.

Ironwood knew about the seasons and the maidens, though, and hadn't that story shed some light? Ozpin had said that not only was Anastacia the embodiment of the summer, her autumnal counterpart had also been attacked. Ozpin had been rather tight-lipped on the outcome, save for saying that the Fall Maiden was in a secure location awaiting medical treatment, but none of that sounded good. In fact, it sounded very un-good.

And it still didn't explain why Anastacia had been murdered. Lautrec couldn't claim the power for himself, though Ozpin suspected he'd done the next-best thing in trapping her soul. And, casting his mind back, Artorias tried to remember what Lautrec had said, back in Carim. He'd said that Anastacia had deserved it. He'd done it because he'd thought it'd make him feel good. Artorias tried to relate such a motive to her powers. Perhaps Lautrec was jealous, but then, he'd also stalked Anastacia for a year at least beforehand. Why wait, if jealousy were the motive?

Vengeance, then. But how had Anastacia wronged him?

Did it really matter?

At the end of the day, no, it didn't. What mattered was that the Maiden's powers were – most likely – trapped with Lautrec until further notice, and that the Fume Knight wanted Lautrec. Ergo, Lautrec had to be protected from the Fume Knight.

"Team Juniper against team Bronze," Gough said, humming in thought. His hands kept deftly whittling away at a ball of wood. "That'll be interesting."

Artorias snorted. "You saw how Quelaag carved through them in the qualifiers, right? If it weren't for May-"

"They'll have May in the tourney too," Gough said.

"But Quelaag only had a three-man team," he said. "Team Juniper is a full team."

"Don't underestimate May," Gough warned. "If they don't deal with her early, she'll pick them off one by one."

"Don't underestimate Jaune," Artorias retorted. "Actually, go ahead and do that. But certainly don't underestimate Pyrrha."

"I almost feel hurt on Jaune's behalf," Gough muttered.

"Ten lien says team Juniper wins with no casualties," Artorias said.

"Are we really betting on this?" Gilderoy muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Well, you don't have to."

"Done," Gough said, then blew some shavings away from his carving. "I like those odds."

"Hey, hey, watch," Ciaran said, tapping Artorias on the arm. "We've got a match-up."

A team from Atlas appeared on the screen; team Harvest, consisting of Hawkwood Crest, Ricard Balth, Rendal Vermeil, and Solaire.

"Oh, Solaire. It's been a while. He was nice," Ciaran mused.

"We'll go easy on him?" Gough suggested.

"Nah."

Artorias' scroll buzzed. He fished it from his pocket, then looked at it, weighing up whether he could be bothered answering. "You gonna get that?" Ciaran asked, giving him a pointed look.

"Dunno," he said, though he still answered within a moment. "Hey Jaune."

"Oh, uh, hi, so-"

"Basicallyyyyy," Nora drawled, stealing Jaune's scroll, "we're matched against a team from Shade and we were just wondering if, maybe, you might have a little intel to share? Hold on." Nora's face turned away from the screen. "Who was it again?" she asked. "B – R – N – Z? Oh, fine, you do it."

Jaune wrested control of his scroll back. "Team Bronze," he said. "Any ideas?"

"If you get close to their sniper, she's pretty much useless," he said. "Take her out early."

"That's cheating," muttered Gough.

"Good to know. Who'd you guys get? Atlas, right?"

"Team Harvest," Gil said. "You don't happen to know them, do you? Some info couldn't hurt."

"I could talk to Weiss?"

"I don't know them!" he heard Weiss call faintly.

"Or you could ask Winter," Gil said, giving Artorias a pointed look.

Well, he was supposed to meet up with her later, presumably after she silenced the vast number of people who'd seen her in a brightly-coloured flower-bedecked uniform. "Or you could ask Penny," Artorias shot back.

"Touché."

"Well, thanks for the tip," Jaune said, rubbing the back of his head. "If I hear anything about – what was it? Team Harvest? I'll let you know."

"Cheers," Gough said. Jaune nodded to them again, then ended the call.

"You heard him," Ciaran said, shoving Gilderoy's scroll towards its owner. "Call Penny."

"What about him?" Gilderoy asked, nodding to Artorias.

"Winter's gonna be in a terrible mood," he said. "It can wait."

/-/

"Huh. Team Auburn. They don't look so tough," Yang mused.

"You could ask Sun if he knows them," Pyrrha suggested. Blake shrugged, not committing to it.

"Or Mercury," Ruby said. "What year are they?"

"Team Auburn?" Weiss checked her scroll. "They're second-year."

"Sun might know them, then."

"It can't hurt to ask," Vengarl said. After the ceremony – the boring part of the ceremony, at the very least – they'd stopped their training for the day to view the matchups. He'd yet to tell them that he was leaving, let alone that he was leaving tonight.

Nora butted in. "But what if Sun actually hates you and tells team Auburn your weaknesses out of spite?"

Blake snorted. Vengarl – who'd heard quite a bit about Sun over the past few weeks – understood exactly why. By all accounts, the boy was smitten with her.

Ruby ran with it. "That's a good point – what if he does hate us?"

"It can wait, then," he said. "Ask just before the match. Give him no time to contact them."

"Ooh," Ruby said. "Sneaky."

It was also an unnecessary precaution, but he was feeling overly indulgent. Maybe it was good that he was getting away from Beacon again. In such a short time, he already felt attached to the school again. Not that it was a bad thing, but…

Well, he wasn't sure what would happen after the tournament. All the students would leave the school, and he'd be at Ozpin's beck and call once more. He'd promised to assist in any way he could, and had no intention of going back on his word, but still – what about when school resumed? It was hardly like he could stay on as faculty without teaching a class, which he still had no intention of doing. Perhaps he'd find a place in Vale to live. He was over a hundred years old, after all – it was about time he had a house of his own.

It occurred to him that even when he was the combat instructor at Beacon, he'd never actually owned a house. He hadn't lived in an actual house since his childhood, only tents and motels and inns and his room at Beacon. Was he missing out? He didn't think so. He'd lived on the road for the past twenty years, after all, and it had suited him just fine. But he could hardly go gallivanting off by himself if he were to be Ozpin's hound once again.

"Who votes Weiss?" Ruby called. Her own hand and Yang's went up.

"Really," Blake said, deadpan as ever, her gaze directed at Yang. "Partner loyalty?"

"They're voting on who to send to the doubles if they win," Jaune said quietly, noticing that Vengarl had zoned out. "The only rule is that they can't vote for themselves."

"Ah. Thank you."

"I'll make it up to you," Yang said with a wink. "Some books, maybe? Some of that capital 'L' literature?" She waggled her eyebrows at her partner.

"I was kidding, but I won't say no."

"And you can't vote Blake, Weiss, so-"

"Really feeling the love here," Blake droned.

"-do you vote Yang, Blake, or abstain?"

Blake's hand went up.

"Ah, loyalty between partners," Yang said, feigning swooning with her hand over her heart. "Oh, you. You're so precious."

"You owe me."

"Right, well, tiebreaker round, Weiss is confirmed for the doubles, so… it's between me and Yang," Ruby said. "Place your bets!"

"Has your team decided who to send yet?" Vengarl asked Jaune. The rest of his team was either watching team Ruby's antics, or discussing something inane with Nora, or just… being Nora.

Vengarl still didn't quite know what to make of her.

"Hmm? Oh. Pyrrha, obviously, with either Nora or Ren. We'll see what the other teams are capable of first."

"Not you?" Vengarl asked, an eyebrow raised.

Jaune laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head. "That's flattering, but… they're better than me. I'm not an idiot."

"Good. You know what you're capable of."

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not."

"Take it as one." He'd seen plenty of overconfident Hunters die – or almost die – to their own foolishness. He'd been in the 'almost' category, thankfully. "Make no mistake. You've improved. You'll go far, Jaune."

He scratched the back of his head. "Well… that's good, then, right?"

"Naturally."

"Right."

Yang poked her head up from amongst her team. "Yo, gramps, what's the training schedule during the tournament?"

"We take time off, you dunce," Weiss said. "We don't want to deplete our auras before the match."

Vengarl cleared his throat. "I'll be out of town, actually," he said.

"Uh… what?" Ruby asked.

"Sir – Vengarl, sorry – it's the Vytal tournament," Pyrrha said, "for the treaty of Vytal: for the end of the Great War." Her meaning was implied: for the end of the war you fought in.

"I'm going north," he said, "tonight. On business."

"But-"

"Some people aren't happy with the way a conflict resolves," Blake said, cutting Ruby and Nora off. "Others aren't happy that the conflict occurred at all, and don't wish to be reminded of it." Her eyes met Vengarl's, and her question was clear. Am I right?

Vengarl nodded. "My thoughts on the Vytal tournament are complicated, to say the least. I'll be glad to miss it. But I'll keep an ear out for your victories."

"Unless Sun sells you out," Nora muttered sidelong to Blake, nudging her on the arm.

"Yes, unless Sun sells us out," Blake deadpanned.

Vengarl restrained from rolling his eyes. But his expression soon turned grave, and he reached back to the bleachers behind him to grab a blue coat. "Jaune," he said, "this is yours."

There was no grand ceremony, nor no great speech. Jaune – who was only sitting next to him, after all – soon had the coat in his lap. "What is it?"

"It was Joseph's," Vengarl said, "and now it is yours. Do what you will with it."

He seemed uncertain, holding it up and inspecting it curiously. "Uh… so should I wear it?"

"If you want."

Yang seemed as though she wanted to say something, but despite the informality of it all she sensed that it was a sincere moment for the two of them and remained silent.

"I… I don't know what to say."

Vengarl shrugged. "You inherited Crocea Mors from him, didn't you? That coat is no different – it just took longer for it to reach you. It's not a gift. It's a birthright."

He shifted uncomfortably, but nodded. "Thanks?"

Vengarl had to admit he'd have no idea what to say either, in face of that. From his perspective, he was just the messenger delivering a rightful inheritance. He was doing his duty and nothing more. But from Jaune's perspective, he supposed, he was bestowing some kind of honour.

Vengarl wasn't sure if it'd make things more or less awkward, but he simply stood, nodded to them in farewell, then made to depart.

"Gramps!" Yang called, and despite himself he turned back. They were all watching him, Ren and Blake with their quietly calculating yet friendly gazes, Yang and Ruby and Nora and Jaune with hope, Weiss and Pyrrha with respect. He'd only been with them for a short time, but it felt good. They'd learned from him, and soon his teachings would be put to the test. It occurred to him that he was getting sentimental as all hell, or maybe he'd always been sentimental and forgotten, but damn teaching could be fulfilling.

Jaune would go far. They'd all go far, relics and maidens and immortals be damned. Hopefully they'd live to a ripe old age as he had. Maybe they'd do even better than he and grow old together as friends and family. He breathed deeply, and with all his will he dismissed the tear forming in his left eye.

"Thank you," Jaune said, more confidently this time.

Vengarl nodded sharply, then turned on his heel and left.

/-/

"Don't you dare."

"Hey, this one isn't even a secret," Artorias grinned. "You were on an international broadcast."

Winter pinched the bridge of her nose, then slumped down into her desk chair. "I'm well aware of that."

Artorias picked up the tulip where she'd thrown it on the floor then twirled it between his fingers. "So, it's still going on the list?"

"The list?"

"Things you won't let me mention. Like the b-"

"Yes, it's going on the list!" Winter snapped. Artorias set the flower down on the desk before her. She looked up at him to find him smirking. "Fine," she said, "get it all out now. But never again."

"Oh, Winter – you have nothing to be ashamed of, you were just serving your kingdom! Think of all the people you've made feel safe and happy, and think of all the-" he noticed her scowl deepening, and he paused to rethink his joke. "Think of all the small children you've frightened today," he said.

"Are you finished?"

He tapped his chin in thought. "Gaudy colours don't suit you?"

"I'm glad we agree."

"Alright then," Artorias said, satisfied, "I'm done." He took a seat across from her. "What's the plan?"

"Unless you know any other underground contacts, we're scraping the bottom of the barrel," she said.

"The immigration office?"

"The Valean immigration office," she corrected. "Atlas' is far more strict – and far more observant."

"Oh, look at my kingdom, we're so cool – we even have flowers," he mocked. She gave him a look that could wither gods – even the real ones, if Artorias had to guess. He cleared his throat and changed the topic. "So, think I could pass as an immigrant?"

"Maybe," she said, eyeing him suspiciously. "Why?"

"I could go undercover?"

"You don't need to- why would you?"

"I'm just trying to spice things up."

She let out a long sigh. "Change of plans. I'll go to the immigration office. You'll make the rounds to the gates – yes, all of them – and speak with the staff. Make some contacts; if they see anything suspicious, they're to contact you immediately."

He shrugged. He could manage that. "Sure," he said.

"Good," she said, rising to her feet. "I won't keep you busy over the weekend. I'm sure you've got plans to make for the tournament."

"Oh, right. You don't know team Harvest, do you?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "I'd be sorely disappointed if you needed my help against them."

"That bad, huh?"

"I've no idea," she said. "I'm sure I could access their files, but I've never seen the need to and I don't see one now. Your team is among Shade's best; I'm sure you can handle them."

"Oh. Right. Just a moment." He reached into his pouch of dust, where he'd nestled a little wooden orb Gough had given him. "Speaking of my team, Gough made this for you," he said, passing it to her.

"That's… sweet of him."

"I think he's doing one for just about everyone. He likes to keep his hands busy."

"Hmm." She turned it over in her hand, and froze solid when she saw the carving; the Schnee family crest overlaid by an intricately carved flower.

Artorias grinned wickedly at her. "He has a great sense of humour too."

Her fist clenched around the carving so hard he thought it might crack. "Mention this to nobody," she repeated.

/-/

It was early the next morning when Emerald found herself at Sulyvahn's door. She could hear voices within; one was Sulyvahn's, but the other she couldn't place, though it seemed familiar. After another moment's pause, she knocked.

"Come in."

She entered. Sulyvahn was rising to his feet from where he'd been kneeling before a makeshift altar; a small glass statue of a bloated man, crowned with gold, placed atop a little wooden pedestal. Next to him was a man in the coat of a specialist, and it took Emerald a second to remember his name: Vordt.

"Miss Sustrai," Sulyvahn greeted. "It's good to see you."

Fat chance.

"What do you want?" she asked. She was in no mood for niceties, no matter how dangerous Cinder said Sulyvahn was. He didn't seem perturbed by her bluntness, however.

"Vordt?"

The specialist nodded and made his way to the table to grab a little metal container. He passed it to Emerald; uncertainly, she glanced up at Sulyvahn, who nodded to her to open it. Within, held firm in foam, were two white orbs, perhaps as big as the tip of her little finger. "What are these?"

"Hard to come by," Sulyvahn said, "at least without proper clearance."

"They're cameras," Vordt explained. "Atlas tech." He went on to explain the details; they were aura activated, with a strong adhesive, and small enough to be nigh undetectable by those who didn't know what to look for.

"Where do you want me to put them?" Emerald asked.

"Ozpin's office," Sulyvahn said. Emerald's mouth twisted. If she were caught… Well, that was what her semblance was for. That was why she'd been chosen for the job. "I want a clear view of the entrances and exits, and of his desk. And I don't want those cameras to be found. I'm sure you can manage that. He's in a meeting with the council currently so his office is clear, but we thought it would be best to send you – just in case. Any questions?"

Any questions he'd be willing to answer? Probably not. She shook her head.

"Good," Sulyvahn said. "Leave us."

It rankled a little to be dismissed so easily, but she didn't let her pride get in the way. She'd rather be in anybody else's company than Sulyvahn's; she'd just rather do it on her own terms. Oh well.

Once she was out in the hall – and after going down a few hallways besides, then ducking into an abandoned classroom, she took her scroll from her pocket and unmuted it. "Did you get all of that?"

Cinder nodded. "The design documents for the cameras are on Atlas' files," she said. "No audio… hmm. How odd." Cinder's brow furrowed in thought, but she quickly moved on. "They're a new development. They don't transmit through the CCT, however – I won't be able to view them unless we can get the virus on the device they're transmitting to."

Emerald sighed. "By we you mean me." It was a statement, not a question. For a moment, Emerald missed the days where her hardest task was pretending to be friends with Ruby 'the happy' Rose. Now she was bugging the offices and scrolls of some of the most dangerous people in the world.

Where had it all gone so wrong?

"Thank you for volunteering," Cinder said sweetly. "You'll likely need access to Sulyvahn's scroll or his terminal. You don't have to do it immediately; I understand he is immune to your semblance."

"Apparently so," Emerald muttered darkly – and she still wasn't quite sure why.

"Hmm… we'll make an opportunity soon," she said. "For now, follow orders. Plant the cameras. Don't draw suspicion from the pontiff."

Whether she could use her semblance on him or not didn't matter – she wasn't some rank amateur. She'd manage. "Of course," she said, then ended the call.

/-/

This is it, friend. Everything we've been fighting for.

Her?

She made her choice. We've made ours.

But she was innocent, in a way. Poor girl. It shouldn't have ended like this. But he let things grow and grow until they got out of control. The prison. The plan. You. I'll certainly remember the poor girl until the end of days, though I'll never regret her death. I hope you won't either.

It doesn't matter. You and me – nothing can stand in our way. Not strength, for sure, and clearly not innocence either. A simple soul – I wonder who she'd condemn more? Him? Or us? Maybe if she knew what she was giving up. Maybe if she knew how she'd been manipulated.

It's time to go. Thank you, Salem. If you would do me the honour, allow me to be a true friend, always. It won't be long now before I know everything. Who I was, what I lived for, and what my name was. Names are strange things though, aren't they? Arbitrary sounds for this person or that, chosen for us before we even have a sense of self.

Not me, though. I'll choose my own name. Maybe I'll prefer the old one – if I even remember it – but hey! Options are nice either way, you know?

How about… Lapp?

Yes. Lapp. I like it.


We're finally moving on to actual V3 content next chapter. Have I mentioned that there were only supposed to be three chapters between V2 and V3? Lapp's monologues were supposed to end at the finals, not at the beginning of the tournament.

Oh well.

But yes, Lapp's monologues conclude here.

In two weeks' time, I'll be busy as all hell, so to avoid a three week break the next chapter'll be out in a week. Like I said, I'll be moving back to a weekly update schedule come November, but for now I need to be a little flexible.

Next chapter - October 13th.