Howdy!
First of all, sorry for how long this took! In hindsight I could have added this to the last chapter, but that would have made it pretty darn lengthy. So this one is short, I debated on including another chapter at the tail end of it, but then I'd be right back to my original issue of having too long a chapter.
Second, sorry for taking so long! Finals week, among other things, is kicking my butt! It was all I could do just to get this out there.
With all that out of the way, I'll lay out the plan for the rest of the book here, briefly. We - and be me I mean you, are going to get another chapter with a perspective shift, or a couple, actually. Flesh things out and show what's been happening elsewhere in Vale. It's relevant, don't worry. I'm expecting 2-3 more chapters before we tidy up, then we can get into the next book and some stuff I've been sitting on for ages.
Until then though, enjoy this little tidbit and thanks for reading as always!
Written language was the most beautiful creation Remnant ever made. Thoughts, feelings, hopes and dreams could be recorded in a few simple lines. Worlds came alive on pages, knowledge shared between generations. Language was eloquence. Letters were keys to unlocking the mysteries of the past, creating beacons for the future. Every book held within its annals a treasure for its reader imploring to be uncovered. Weiss loved books.
Written language was splendid yet there was something it could never hope to accomplish. Sentences upon paragraphs would be woven to describe a scene, entire novels devoted to telling stories. Writing was as beautiful as it was cumbersome. There was something to be said for the simplicity of illustration then. Murals, for all their simplicity in nature, could convey more than a novel could and in far less time.
Air bubbles trapped for eternity created bumps that Weiss' fingertips grazed over, inspecting every inch of the wall before her. Not an inch was wasted. Without so much as a single word a story unfolded before her, the mural finding a voice all its own, faded, brilliant colors demanding her attention, screaming for its tale to be told.
Along the leftmost border Weiss' eyes drifted over the first of many illustrations. Gathered around a lone figure, taller than the rest, slimmer, a crowd seemed to be eternally fixated on what the figure had to share. Black streaks pooled at the figure's feet, long, bulbous patches of black jutting out like spokes of a wheel with the slender figure as the centerpiece. Expressions ranged from awed to apprehensive, and Weiss felt her skin crawl as she moved further down the painting.
Black as the night sky with black plating, a lone Grimm sat among the same crowd, larger now. Gone were the looks of fear and in their place were ones of wonderment. The same slender figure seemed to be speaking, their arms lifted, stood abreast to the shadowy creature. Weiss allowed her eyes to leave the pair and she looked above them to the painting above, to where a series of nine figures, nondescript and simply humanoid, watched over the gathering below. Below them…
"I don't understand…?" Weiss stepped back and inspected the mural at a better angle. It began simple enough, the first part showing a gathering around the mysterious figure. That needed no further explanation.
The second though? She'd assumed the figures watching over the crowd to be the gods, but then who were the nine below? There were only nine gods - none, if Weiss gave her honest opinion, but the widely held belief was nine gods existed in one way or another. The mirrored image likely suggested the duality of the gods as beings of both light and darkness, of creation and destruction. She hated working on assumptions though and needed clarification, and in lieu of a scholar like Oobleck to provide answers she was left with the Branwens.
Weiss found no help from Raven who was content to simply wave for her to continue, lips sealed. Qrow was of little use either, either just as lost as Weiss felt or not confident enough to comment. Scuffing her foot into the tiled floor as agitation fled through thinly-parted lips, she closed her eyes and nursed her temple. When Qrow had dragged her down here she'd anticipated a simple explanation, not being left to decipher an ages old painting.
Moving back towards the mural Weiss craned her neck to look towards the top again. The nine figures were enveloped in a warm glow, and though none sported a face she could picture smiles upon them. On the opposite end just at her knees were the figures shrouded in dark, their postures hunched. Angry? Embittered? Did the gods hate them?
Having covered at best a fraction of the mural Weiss continued to move along, stopping frequently to inspect the paintings. More slender figures joined the masses, Grimm among them, yet no weapons to speak of. Treating the beasts like common pets they intermingled with townsfolk, some sat beside villagers while others wandered about. The notion of Grimm being among people and not attacking them made no sense. Whether attracted by negativity or magic, or some combination of the two, the fact remained that Grimm were enemy to all living things.
Yet the mural would suggest otherwise. Similar scenes showed villagers hunting with the beasts, weapons poignantly trained not at the Grimm, but away from them at fleeing wildlife. Grimm inside of buildings, Grimm with children. Weiss had read tall tales growing up yet they all paled in comparison to the absurdity of what was on display before her. Grimm not simply existing alongside humanity, but doing so in a cooperative manner? Insanity.
The same slender figures appeared more as she moved along the mural. Like the Grimm before them, these figures mingled among villagers as though they had always belonged. A gathering hall housed countless figures, chief among them were three of the unusual figures, gathered before the masses with a lone figure, a Muran, Weiss assumed, with them. Judging by the stepped ceiling, the many pews and the stained windows, it had to be a place of worship.
Weiss paused at a painting along the base of the mural. Greens popped against the subdued brown of the church above and the brick below, individual leaves standing out in the canopies. She could almost hear a wind brushing through them and stirring the painting to life, imagining the creaking of branches as they swayed. She lowered herself to one knee and let her fingertips again dance across paint, frowning as small flakes chipped away, drawing her hand back to prevent further damage.
Trees unlike any she'd seen formed a ring around a gathering of figures, their bark a pale brown, trunks swollen midway up in a manner reminiscent of a heavy drinker's gut. Then again, Qrow doesn't exactly have an engorged stomach, Weiss thought, glancing back just in time to see the grizzled Branwen nursing his flask. Rolling her eyes, she returned to inspecting the mural.
Ydrans stood in a loose cluster, their elongated ears a bit exaggerated but clearly denoting them. Weiss' hand drifted up and crested her own peaked appendages, wondering idly if these people might somehow be related to her. Not all Ydrans were related, obviously, otherwise they would be a race rife with birth defects and deficiencies. They wore simpler clothing than many of the figures before them, exposed skin aplenty as loose cloth and leather clung to their bodies. Many sported bows strapped on their backs, others with blades or blunt weapons at the hip.
All armed, yet none baring their weapons at the lone figure before them. As was the case in every other depiction the slender figure wore the same black robes, their skin paler than any other. Weiss sought Raven's counsel again and her shoulders lifted uselessly when the woman at last graced her with a look, one of mild amusement.
"Isn't it obvious who they are?"
Weiss' fingers tapped at her side as she scrutinized the robed figure more closely. Pale skin, slenderer than any race she was familiar with. "Seraph?"
"Got it in one, kid. Oobleck did mention you were the smart one," said Raven. A taunting grin pulled back her lips and she waved in Qrow's direction. "Took my idiot brother a bit longer to piece that together."
"Eh, stuff it, Rae," grumbled the crusty old crow. Corking his flask, Qrow swung his legs and rose to his feet, pocketing the flask and running a hand back over his hair. "Keep on lookin', Ice Queen. You haven't even gotten to the best part yet."
Why did she dread hearing that? Looking forward to uncovering whatever the mural had about as much as having teeth pulled Weiss stepped back, deciding to expedite the process. Much in the same spread across the wall's length, depictions of Dimurans and Seraph, Varuna and Seraph. Seraph met with every race they could, and in the latest depictions it showed races had come together. Where purely Murans had gathered before the races now stood as one, united in reverence to the mystical powerhouses that were the Seraph.
Whoever had painted the mural wanted to recount the glory lost, that much was evident. Weiss felt esteem as she glossed over scenes of Seraph leading sermons, treating injured, and aiding in various tasks. Swirling brushstrokes and clashes of colors signaled the use of magic, or so she assumed, and on occasion Grimm also made a reappearance. One scene even depicted a bull-variant of Grimm being used to till the land. Grimms as beasts of burden? The act of even trying to stand near a Grimm was preposterous enough, but if this was to be believed then people had domesticated them? How? The beasts had no semblance of intellect and little use for anything, humanity most of all. How did one tame something whose sole purpose was to kill?
A pattern had emerged, Weiss realized. Nine figures of light and nine of dark had stood above the earlier scenes. The gods, she'd assumed. As the mural progressed those along the top faded away, their silhouettes darkening, already obscure figures blurring. Along the final few scenes both the top and bottom of the mural had grown dark, faint figures now stood among the shadows. Though the scenes within the mural remained uplifting Weiss couldn't enjoy them, not with the encroaching darkness.
The final scene struck Weiss as particularly poignant. She'd expected some grave, sinister display to await her by the time she'd made her way through the mural. Instead she was confronted with the sight of a Seraph and Muran, locked in an embrace. They were in a home, a counter wrapping its way around a kitchen, a wood stove situated on the right wall, a table with four chairs to their left. At the couples' feet stood two small figures, toys clutched in one hand, the other gripping the legs of their parents.
Weiss closed her eyes and allowed the entirety of the mural to play through her mind. Seraph approached Murans, displayed an ability to… Summon Grimm? Tame Grimm? Whatever the case they had presented themselves to people, and over time had gained their trust. Grimm, the enemy of all living things, had at some point lived among them, docile as house cats, even becoming assistants later on. Despite racial tensions that had existed for decades the Seraph somehow brought people together, uniting them and, judging by the depiction of the church, guided them.
Everything lined up with what Raven and Oobleck had said. The skeptic in Weiss argued their explanation had been based on this mural, not information they had previously gathered. Would they really rely on only this singular piece as evidence though? Her mind said no even as the disquieting voice grew and demanded further evidence. They had to have more proof. Weiss would ask Raven and Oobleck both for whatever information they could provide, written or otherwise. The mural made their story more compelling, yet a part of her still was reluctant to believe it was more than that, a story.
Perhaps it wasn't the mural that gave Weiss pause for thought. As she stepped away from the mural and stared at the ground she itched her palm, chewing on her lower lip. Raven stood up and approached, Weiss paid her no mind, attempting to make sense of her own jumbled thoughts.
"Well? Have anything to say, or are you just going to stand there?" Raven prodded her for a reaction and Weiss relented, albeit only with a quick glance.
What did the runes have to say? Reading along the inscription bordering the paintings she let the words fill her mind, slowly making sense of what was laid out before her. Unity through cooperation. United, we are strong. Divided, we fall. Praise be for the Seraph, praise the gods for their messengers.
Casting her eyes back down the wall she drew a breath, tugging at her ponytail as she nodded. "The Seraph were certainly popular…" It was a sorry observation, but all Weiss could manage. Her thoughts were slow to form perhaps from the fatigue of recent events. Like a puzzle missing pieces however her mind refused to form a complete, cohesive idea, parts missing or refusing to be joined.
"Sure, you can say that. They seemed to do a helluva better job at getting folks to get along than the Church does," Qrow scoffed bitterly. The lanky man slouched beside Weiss and her nose wrinkled at his stink, glancing at his hand as it retrieved his flask, raising an eyebrow seconds later when he put it away.
"You must have taken more than that away, Weiss. Come on now." Raven was growing impatient as she folded her arms together, her boot tapping loudly against the tiles.
She'd gleaned plenty from the painting before her, more than she'd anticipated. It wasn't her fault her mind was having issue making sense of it. "The Seraph… Could control the Grimm? Or they tamed them. I… I'm not sure which, but it's clear that they somehow rendered the Grimm no longer a threat."
It was an absurd notion… But was it really? Merlot had managed to find a means of controlling the creatures with particular runes, going as far as to force a Geist into servitude. Fingers grazing the scar along her eye Weiss shivered reflexively, hand drifting down to cover her throat as unspoken, raspy words reached her ears.
"Unless I'm mistaken, people seemed to be able to live amongst Grimm, even use them as one might regular livestock," Weiss went on, slowly walking the length of the mural. Qrow remained where he was, watching Weiss along with Raven after no doubt having gone through the very same inner turmoil she was now. "Were the Seraph revered because of their magic, or because they had a way to neutralize the Grimm threat…?"
"One in the same really. However, they did it, it's safe to assume that magic was somehow involved." Raven's nose wrinkled as she finally joined them, reaching out with a foot and striking the wall. "Guess we know where Merlot got the idea of controlling them. Craven probably lost his damned mind seeing these and started researching how it had been done."
With runes, if his work was faithful to what was shown here. Weiss inspected the Grimm closely yet found no trace of any collars or runes on the beasts. Perhaps the people who had made these pieces simply were unaware. No… If the Seraph wanted to be trusted they would have doubtless explained how they tamed Grimm. Weiss sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. Did the painters just not see any reason to display runes then? Or were they purposefully avoiding showing it?
With no answer and any speculation only serving to agitate Weiss she spurned the thought, turning to Raven and frowning up at the woman. "You wanted me to see this as proof that Grimm might be controlled? Or were you using this as proof that your story has some truth to it?"
"Neither."
"Then what? Why bring me down here…?"
Raven's eyes rolled and the Dimuran turned her head, snorting before pointing at the mural. "What do you see? You said it yourself a minute ago. Just. Think."
What did the obstinate woman think she was doing here? Staring at the wall counting bricks? Weiss huffed and redoubled her efforts, looking over the entire mural at a glance. Seraph meeting with the races, Grimm living among the populace - if 'living' was a term that could be applied to the soulless creatures. If anything stood out to Weiss from that it was the fact the Grimm weren't hostile.
The Grimm weren't hostile.
Raven snickered as she watched Weiss give the mural yet another scan, then another, the girl's expression growing more and more perplexed. Qrow had done a spit take when the realization finally hit and she was disappointed she'd not get a repeat from Weiss. Despite the seriousness of what was being presented Raven still managed to grin, flashing a playful, taunting look to her taller sibling before patting a hand against the mural. "Just how many Grimm do you think the Seraph could tame? Was it only the ones nearby, or could they apply whatever magic they used in an area of effect?"
Weiss didn't know. Her only experience with Grimm being commanded pertained to two instances, and in both cases runes had to be used. Just because that was her only exposure to such an event didn't mean that was the only way it could be done however. "Grimm have been the enemy of everyone as long as anyone can remember. Of course, that's the Church's take on matters, and frankly, I'm not disinclined to believe them there," Raven chuckled, lacking any joy in her admission.
"Makes you think though," the Dimuran drawled, her palm swiping over the depiction of a Grimm pulling a plow. "If the Seraph could take our greatest enemy and turn them into just another animal, sure does make the Church and its Hunters look silly, doesn't it? If they went around killing Grimm, then it's no different than slaughtering oxen. More than that…"
"The Seraph were protecting people from the Grimm." Weiss' eyes felt like they might pop from her skull as she stared at the painting. Her eyes weren't fixated on anything on the wall. Her mind could only see Ozpin, the Grand Cathedral and the faces of smug, contented priests gathered within.
"Sure seems that way doesn't it?" Qrow grumbled and rubbed at the stubble along his jaw, rocking on his heels as he blew a single bang from his eyes, glaring at the hair and swiping it back. "No reason for Hunters to be there if the Grimm can be handled. No one's gotta fight if they're not hostile, and why kill 'em when you can use them for stuff?"
It was dangerous for obvious reasons, yet the Seraph had clear control, otherwise no one would have been comfortable enough to be anywhere near Grimm. Whatever magic the peoples had employed had been powerful, powerful enough to convince people that the enemy of life itself was no longer a threat.
"They had a solution… They had a way to stop the fighting." Grimm slaughtered indiscriminately, killing women and children alike. Brand had been utterly eradicated. The town nearby no doubt had met the same fate, as had many others. "This endless war could have been over!" Weiss nearly shouted as the words left her mouth, hands trembling at her sides. The ache in her leg had begun to return and she ignored it, the sheer fury she felt enough to drown out her discomfort.
"Yet it isn't. The Church couldn't let its little business fail, now could it?" Raven cooed as she walked past Weiss, dragging her hand along the mural. Qrow scoffed and retrieved his flask once again, ignoring the laugh that came from his sister.
"Ozpin knew all of this?" Incensed, Weiss glared at Qrow, the only person present whose fleeting relations with the Church she felt she could vent at. "Do you mean to tell me that there was a chance of ending the Grimm threat once and for all, and Ozpin stopped it?!"
"Hey now, I doubt Oz had any hand in it, this crap happened ages ago. Not that I'm saying he isn't guilty of it all the same" Hands up, Qrow watched as Weiss stormed off, face in her hands. "But yeah, seems like it, kiddo. Looks like the Church has kept Grimm goin' so folks keep needing Hunters."
"The point of this isn't to throw more fuel on that fire, kid," Raven called after Weiss, watching as the diminutive girl stormed about the room. "Unless the White Fang is just looking to get dirt on the Church, they were here for another reason. And that was…?"
Weiss ceased her stalking and glared at Raven, then the wall. Not for defamation obviously, as if the White Fang could hope to wage a public relations war. All that left then was the very same reason Merlot had sought out these ruins, and perhaps the same reason the Church made efforts to destroy and erase their existence. A tremor crept into Weiss' voice as a chilling sentiment occurred to her, words leaving in a hushed, tense whisper. "They want to control Grimm…"
If it was known where Grimm came from then it was Remnant's best kept secret. Their numbers were unending, their unflinching desire to eradicate people of all races disconcerting. If these paintings were to be believed, then the Grimm could be tamed and bent to one's will. Weiss couldn't voice skepticism of such an idea, not when Merlot had demonstrated the concept before her very eyes.
"Merlot's method worked, but it was too small, too isolated." Raven set a foot upon a crate, draping an arm over her knee as she scrutinized the wall. "The Seraph had a way of making Grimm docile. Probably not all, but on a scale way beyond what that maniac could ever have achieved." Snorting, the Dimuran's lips parted with a grin as she smiled at Weiss. "Or maybe he could have, but you put an end to that, didn't you?"
Pride absent, Weiss' eyes aimlessly scanned the floor. The reality was that she hadn't dealt a killing blow, Merlot's own creation had. The reality was, had she not emerged victorious, countless others may have died because of his experimentation. She also had to accept however that she had snuffed out another life, and whether undeserved or not, directly or otherwise, she had killed the man. At worst she'd injured people, maybe hobbled, but never killed. Merlot was her first.
Knowing more likely than not that Merlot wouldn't be her last made Weiss' stomach turn. The knowledge that killing such people may inevitably lead to lives saved was pittance. Then again, she could beat someone without taking their life, couldn't she? Defeat someone handily enough and perhaps they'd change their ways. Or, if nothing else, they'd save whoever, or whatever they were
"Alright sis, enough leadin' us by the nose. What's the plan?" Qrow drawled. Pulled from her wallowing Weiss looked at Raven.
"Hell if I know. If we can't wipe out the Grimm, we find a different way of handling them. The Seraph way." Controlling Grimm? Echoes of Merlot's insanity. "Either that or… Shit, pacify them, if such a thing is possible."
Weiss' shoulders shook, uneasy laughter rising from her chest. "The knowledge of 'how' died with the Seraph, I assume? Otherwise you and others would have tried it already." Some had, though their results had been miniscule by comparison.
"Depends. There are obviously records of the Seraph, and I'd wager there are places like this all over Remnant. What's more…" Raven paused and glanced back towards the doorway where a member of her tribe stood. The man uttered a hasty apology and informed her they finished their own work, bowing and rushing off once given new orders.
"It's like I have to tell them everything," Raven grumbled. Upright, she fixed her robe, drawing the top closed and covering her scarred torso. "There's still a lot we don't know. Why are Grimm attracted to magic? Why not Dust? What's different about Dust that makes it okay to use?"
"Hell if I know. I'm still getting used to the idea of magic attractin' Grimm," muttered Qrow, sighing as he rubbed the back of his head. "That's a better question for Oobleck, he's the bookworm. Sure sucks though knowing magic just makes stuff worse."
Magic was the best tool mankind had to defeating Grimm. It was potent, flexible, and even an average Magi could draw enough power to fell a large Grimm. Drawbacks notwithstanding, nothing was more useful a tool than a good spell. It was why the Church held such power and why Hunters were so valued.
Spells resulting in Grimm though? Magic was so ingrained in everyday life, Magi and Hunters so integral, that stopping the use of magic wasn't possible. Too much of society relied on it, from artisans to soldiers, healers and everything in between. Magic was their world. Society itself was a lure for the dark creatures. It was as though Remnant was being punished for its reliance on magic.
Remnant couldn't go on, not like it was. Qrow muttered something under his breath and began to nurse at his flask while Raven smiled tightly, her countenance as hollow as Weiss felt.
"Something has to change. The Church wants to keep the status quo. It's not perfect, not by any stretch, but it's worked. Then you got the White Fang wanting to turn everything on its head. They claim they want equality," Raven scoffed. "But it's just trading one tyrant for another."
"And what do you want, exactly?" Weiss' words took on an accusing tone, eyes narrowed.
"Me? I want to live my damn life without having to look over my shoulder every moment. I want to have a Remnant where bastards can be bastards, farmers can till their land, and people can just… Live." Smiling ruefully, Raven closed her eyes and sighed. "Let's just live. That's all I want."
"Let the world sort itself out…" Qrow mused, nodding to the idea. Not lawlessness, there would still be measures to keep the peace, but concentrating all the power in one place like the Church was destined to fail.
"And you believe the Seraph might somehow be key to that?" Weiss glanced at the illustration of a Seraph among a crowd, Beowolf at their side, villagers gathered around as if their lives weren't in immediate danger. Was neutralizing the Grimm in such a way really possible?
"The Seraph could have done so much more, but they just tried to give people a choice. The Church? The Church expects obedience and trust while giving none to those who follow. The White Fang declares equality while massacring anyone who even looks at them the wrong way. I say enough of the Church, enough of fighting to control Remnant. Let the kingdoms govern themselves for fuck's sake," growled Raven. "And let's be done with the gods, the Church, and people like Ozpin who profit off misfortune and suffering."
Hypocritical, coming from a bandit, but Weiss still felt inclined to agree. The world would always have people like Raven, like Adam. People would fight, there would be disagreements, these were as natural occurrences as the sun rising each morning. Snuffing out all negativity was impossible, and yet Weiss was still optimistic that somehow Remnant would be better off if left to its own devices. Allowed to make its own decisions, kingdom by kingdom, person to person, rather than have a body like the Church dictate everything.
Results may vary but she felt like it had done wonders for her thus far. Extenuating circumstances aside she had made friends, a new family, explored parts of Remnant she might never have seen otherwise and gained so much more. Who was to say Remnant couldn't benefit from the same freedom?
"Well… You weren't wrong," Weiss sighed, rubbing at her forehead to nurse the beginnings of a headache. "I don't like it. But at least we have a clear goal now."
They could fight the Church and kill each other until one side submitted. They could try and organize the masses to turn their backs on the organization, an organization which was a staple in life and trusted by the commoners.
Fighting the Church would be as helpful as screaming into the void and expecting the void to give way to light. There was another option though, one that was no less trying than combating a juggernaut presence like the Church but even more promising. The Seraph had shown it worked, just as Merlot had demonstrated Grimm might be controlled.
Choice. Remnant only needed to be given the freedom to choose its own path, free from the Church, and dictate its own fate. To do that however they needed a way to mitigate the damage the Church was doing, had done, and might continue to do. They needed a way to stop the White Fang, not by striking them down, but by convincing them that there was another way to gain equality. Once they stopped the bleeding and suture the wound, only then could they truly begin to move Remnant forward.
And that would all begin with the Seraph.
