"Not fond of bullheads, huh," Ruby chirped.
Jaune groaned.
"You're just full of secrets, aren't you?"
Another groan.
"What else is there about you that I don't know?" teased the Empress. "I wonder."
Cardin grunted. "He's the grandson of—"
Pyrrha, Ren, and Nora immediately raised their voices in a wild orchestra of unsynchronized threats. Mister Winchester, though vexed and sour, merely shrugged and grabbed the rag from Miss Nikos so he could wipe the rest of Jaune's mess from his face. For about three seconds. He crinkled his nose in disgust and tossed the saggy, soaked up cloth to the back...right into Russel's face.
"Ah, gross! The fuck, man!?"
"Sorry," mumbled the nauseous blond.
"Monsieur, I recall I may have some extra towels in the back," the pilot remarked. "The flying sickness is a terrible thing, no?"
"I'm not—ugh. Yeah, sure. Whatever." Cardin, sourer than a pickle left too long in a jar, stomped over to the aft of the deck and down into the small cargo hold with the rest of his team.
"Feeling better?" Ruby asked.
Jaune nodded. "Yeah, thanks..."
The Empress eased back against her seat to let her mind dwell on the other things picking at her curiosity, namely that spider tattoo on the pilot's neck. Once was happenstance, twice was coincidence, three times and more revealed machinations hidden beyond her scope. She had so many questions to ask. And this was a chance to ask them while she still could.
Ruby meandered over the cockpit. "So, mister pilot. Who are you?"
The pilot jumped in his seat at how informally she, a visiting sovereign, was chatting him up, a local commoner. "Ah, no one important really. I am just a courier ferrying supplies between the major cities in the kingdom, Your Imperial Majesty."
Interesting choice of words there. She folded her arms. "Is that so?"
"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty."
"I would like to think there is more to this than meets the eye." The Empress leaned over his shoulder close enough for her breath to warm his skin, making him wince and stiffen. "Or do you think I am merely being paranoid?"
"N-no, Your Imperial Majesty! Y-you a-are not paranoid at all!"
Gods, this sultry charm thing really worked wonders. Maybe she could try this out on Jaune. For curiosity's sake, of course. Even then, such a tactic had its limits and Ruby backed off out of concern for the man's psyche.
Pyrrha, on the other hand, plodded over with a frown. "Come now, monsieur aviateur. How did you know that we were out here in the first place?"
He shrugged, regaining his composure while never once taking his eyes off the windshield. "I have sharp senses, ma'amselle. I see things, I hear things, I trust my gut to investigate. If what I find benefits me, then I get involved."
"And how are we benefiting you then?"
"Other than the fact that you have the actual missing Empress of Sanus with you, the only benefit I see is the lien I am going to reap in exchange for my silence and complacency. Pardon my bluntness."
"You're not an ordinary smuggler," Ren intoned.
The pilot snickered. "Smuggler? Monsieur, whatever are you implying?"
"You're one of them," Ruby deadpanned. "You're one of those...spider people."
That got the aviator to finally creak his head over his shoulder. He tried to hide his surprise despite the fact that his mouth was forming a wide circle. "Ah, Your Majesty? Spider people? I do not understand—"
"You have a spider tattoo on your neck," the Empress said. "I saw it."
"Oh, that? It is nothing, Your Imperial Majesty. A common image—"
Pyrrha slid up to his seat and tugged his collar, exposing that same icon inked on his pale skin. Her voice did not come through with the soft, shy, motherly tone. The iciness in her glare complimented it. "Monsieur aviateur, need I inform you that in addition to the fact that you are a tellable liar, we are neither stupid nor very patient right now. Unless you wish to have your insides squeezed out of your mouth, consider for a moment being honest with our queries."
The pilot let out a strangled noise and gawked down in growing horror on his stomach slowly being constricted by both his seatbelt. The fact that Pyrrha Nikos—sweet, kind, apologetic, humble, softspoken Pyrrha Nikos—could behave like this completely unnerved the Empress.
"Who exactly are you and who exactly are you with?" interrogated the irate champion.
The man gulped. A second later, he cracked. Sort of. "I am a contractor, ma'amselle. One of many in a group burdened with the task of preventing a war between the Kingdom of Mistral and the Empire of Sanus."
Stunned silence.
Engines humming.
"What?" Ruby croaked.
Pyrrha released her grip and the pilot eased into his seat, gasping for breath. "Group? Who are you with? Armée Royale? Maréchaussée?"
"Neither," he wheezed.
"What do you mean preventing a war?" Ruby demanded.
The pilot coughed and gripped Pyrrha's hand with his own, matching her glare with his. "Ma'amselle, Your Imperial Majesty, in case you have not heard, Sanus is mobilizing its armed forces against Mistral and Mistral is mobilizing in turn." A snort. "Merde. Even this Kingdom cannot even get that right."
Ren echoed. "Get what right?"
"Ren," Nora interjected, tugging at his partner's sleeve towards what she was seeing down below.
Ruby nudged at Pyrrha who released her grip on the pilot, leaving him to catch his breathe. The two of them hovered over to Ren and Nora gaping through the window. The view below was as breathtakingly mortifying.
Rising out of the shrubbery were concrete stubs, broken down walls, and building posts sparsely scattered over streets painted in thick green underbrush and partially hidden by the canopies of the many trees growing in and around these ruins. It was a near replica of Oniyuri...if Oniyuri had been razed completely to the ground.
The roads were barely visible while the aqueducts and canals that once ferried clean, serviceable water had been filled in with dirt and rubble. The shadow of the bullhead traced itself against the uneven blocks that once constituted high-rise tenements and the public centers.
Ruby felt her throat dry up. She knew what this place was.
"Ah, the ruins of Kuroyuri," the pilot sneered between coughs. "First time seeing it in person, Your Imperial Majesty? People say Imperial troops salted the earth. I wonder if that really was the case since this place has never risen again."
Pyrrha growled.
The Empress seized her hand and squeezed. "Pyrrha, that's enough."
In the corner of her eye, Ren and Nora remained somberly enraptured by the few discernible blocks that remained of Kuroyuri, slowly being swallowed up by nature.
Miss Nikos squeezed back. "Ruby, are you alright?"
"I'm fine, Pyrrha." Ruby took a deep breath. "Ren?"
Silence.
"Ren?"
Nora creaked her head towards her. Sad turquoise tried to brighten up her poor smile yet she her thinly curved lips said no words.
"Ren, Nora, I—"
"You're forgiven," breathed Ren Lie. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. He opened his eyes to show nary a hint of anger or bitterness. "You had nothing to do with this, Ruby. I hold nothing against you. Not anymore."
The Empress felt breathless. Because Nora had wrapped her arms around her, wetting her cheeks with her own tears and saying the same thing.
Mistral as a metropolis and capital of a large continental kingdom was more beautiful than any of the photographs or videos Ruby had seen of the place: a city built on a lush green mountain and expanding onto the surrounding plateaus. Cruising into its airspace, she was seeing more and more details that reminded her so much of Vale. People milling about, flittering through the streets like ants. Cars speeding up and down the highways while small commercial airships like the one they were in hovered back and forth.
Yet, it was so unlike Vale. There was no calm. Rather, there was a hurried flow akin to raging tributaries flowing into each other, swirling into tiny maelstroms of over young men and women crammed in military trucks while uniformed riders plodded and galloped through streets and thoroughfares, heralding a call to action that many citizens either heeded or shrugged off. And that was not to mention the various posters plastered across city walls, covering obscene insults graffitied onto countless facades.
"I don't think this is normal," remarked Jaune. At least he was less green than he had been earlier. "Too much going on down there. None of it seems good."
Ruby sighed. "They're preparing for war."
The pilot reported to ground control in native Mistralian, a completely foreign language to Ruby. However, she heard some agitation in the exchange and that worried her as she was unsure how she could be as inconspicuous as she had been in Higanbana.
The blond tapped her shoulder. "Hey, I know this isn't really what you might've been expecting from us but...this really isn't what Mistral is. This is...this'll blow over soon enough. Everything's going to be fine."
"Can you be sure of that?"
Jaune glanced away. "No. But I try to look on the bright side of things. Heh, maybe you should too. You're all worked up."
"I'm worried about you. You might get arrested."
He shrugged. "Eh, not the first time that happened."
The sovereign frowned. "You've had trouble with the law before?"
"You try living with someone like Nora, you're bound to bend a few rules here and there."
"And bending the rules is part of being a Huntsman, right?" Nora squeezed in, blurting out her tongue in mock defiance of her leader. "Besides! Rules are bo~oring! Where's the fun in blowing stuff up when you can't break some legs every now and then?"
Ruby tilted over her shoulder to see Ren solemnly resigned to his partner's logic. That was Nora for you.
"Speaking of rules," Cardin chimed, coming up from the hold with a cleaner face and a less sour mien. "Sky managed to get into the CCT's public domain without getting tracked. Finally got some updates and, uh, things aren't looking good down there."
"How bad is it?" Jaune asked.
"Mobilization. Long queues at recruitment centers. Troops and police everywhere, patrolling the streets and making sure that every Mistralian citizen was 'obliged to do their part.'"
"They're conscripting," Pyrrha noted uneasily. "Are they calling up Huntsmen as well?"
A somber nod. "Yep. Of course, whole city ain't happy with the draft so there's been some resistance. Kingdom responded in kind with double troop presence, extra cops, Huntsmen and watchmen keeping a firm eye out. So much slipping in unnoticed."
"Fortunately for you all," hooted the pilot. "I can get you in and out without rousing suspicion."
"And how are you supposed to do that?"
"Monsieur, we must all preserve some secrets, hein?"
"Look, buddy, I'm getting tired of your—"
Jaune held out his hand. "Let him keep his secrets. He's our only way into the city."
"He could be leading us into a trap!"
"If I was," the aviator countered, "I would have already diverted this ship to the nearest docking bay which, need I remind you, we have already passed ten minutes ago. In fact, we have passed three commercial docking bays which, in case you do not know, are heavily screened by the Maréchaussée."
"Where then are you taking us?" Pyrrha demanded.
"Patience, ma'amselle," he cooed.
"You can just tell us," Ruby prodded.
A sigh. "Your Imperial Majesty, with all due respect, I can only tell you that it is the safest place for you. I am honest when I tell you that I myself do not know what lies in store for you should you land. My role in this ends there. You can, however, ask those on the ground."
"Other spider-tattooed goons like yourself?" snorted Miss Valkyrie.
"It is a badge of honor, ma'amselle."
"Badge of honor for what?" sneered Miss Nikos. "I have never even seen such a symbol."
The pilot grinned. "Then that means that our methods are effective. You do not know us yet you yourself are such a widely-recognized celebrity who should know who we are."
Jaune narrowed his eyes and stepped in the defense of his partner. "Should she?"
"She would soon. You all would soon."
The bullhead lurched slightly as the pilot swerved on a different bearing. The scenic heart of the metropolis vanished behind its own lush mountainside which cast a looming shadow over the seedier, less organized districts where the airship appeared to be the only thing in the sky.
"Les quartiers de maisons?" Pyrrha gapsed.
Ruby gawked at the blinking neon lights and shabby, overextended tenements to know the translation. They were cruising over Mistarl's red light district. Moments later, the blinking klaxons of a converted landing pad beamed over the silhouettes of many a rickety shanty roof.
"We're landing on that?" Cardin asked incredulously.
"Dude, I don't trust this," Sky muttered. "I mean, look at that! That's not official!"
Indeed, it was not. Heavy, grated metal sheets were bolted together to form a makeshift landing pad. Industrial lamps were welded to the corners and wired to a generator buzzing below. Taking in the structure, Jaune recognized it for what it once was: a military watchtower, long since abandoned by the city's expansion decades prior, now since retrofitted to accommodate small aircraft like the one they were disembarking.
The Empress and the two teams were met by the pilot on the pad who pointed to the staircase leading down to street level.
"My associate is waiting for you down below," he hollered over the noise of the turbines. "He will take you to our employer. Ask her all your questions for I no longer have answers. Oh, and tell the boys down below to send someone up here to help me carry all these supplies, hein?"
True enough, there were a few people milling about on the ground. There were little words exchanged with the two of them heading up to help the pilot offload with the third gesturing at them to follow him. And each of them, Ruby noticed, bore the same spider tattoo whether on their necks, wrists, or chests.
The slums were a tight maze showcasing the dregs of Mistralian society clamoring for the crumbs trickling down from the wealthier districts above. Putrid sewage spilled out of poorly dug canals lining the narrow streets while sunlight barely filtered through the mess of overhangs, gutters, cables, and wires upon which hung scores of laundry and assorted banners. There were not many people about at this hour and given the current events, most were either shuttered indoors or regarding the passing troupe with thinly veiled animosity.
For the Empress, walking through these slums was an enlightening—and admittedly dreadful—experience. Poverty in Vale was different compared to Mistral, it seemed. Yet Ruby would ashamedly admit to having barely visited Vale's own slums because of her upbringing. Interestingly, team JNPR were as uncomfortable as her though Ren and Nora seemed to be taking to their circumstances with more familiarity than the others.
Trudging up and down the tight pathways and over muddy refuse puddles were no simple task as there were often tight corners with barely any room for two people to squeeze through. But they managed with the help of their guide who had nary spoken a single word. He grunted, pointed, gestured, and barely held eye contact.
Many of those they encountered on the way recognized team JNPR, or rather the tournament champion Pyrrha Nikos despite her attempts at remaining discreet. No one dared approach them, however, save a child who attempted to pickpocket a member of team CRDL. A heavy glare from their guide scared the poor urchin back into the shadows.
Thankfully, Ruby was unrecognizable—or at least ignorable—in her grey hooded cloak.
Gods know what would could happen when she would have been discovered here in the slums of Mistral. And in these slums thrived the more lawless, more ruthless, more pragmatic groups that were no different to the banes of every authority in existence.
The most prominent of them were the Spiders.
And Ruby Rose, Empress of Sanus, walked into their headquarters, a spacious multistory tavern in the heart of the red light district where she was greeted by numbing silence. Everyone, from the bouncers to the patrons to the barman and the tenants all ceased conversation to stare at the missing sovereign and her merry band of unlicensed Huntsmen and Huntresses.
Their guide pointed to the table at the far end where a rather weighted lady sat flanked by two formidable lackeys.
"Welcome, welcome!" she greeted. "Have a seat! You all must be so tired and hungry after a long journey."
Ruby was unsure but then she saw the other members of this organization provide them all with seats. They remained wordless, regarding the lady before them with suspicion and contempt despite her constant leering smile. Slowly, the din of chatter resumed, albeit hushed and centered on the newest visitors to the Spiders' den.
"Ave, Imperatrix totius Sanasae. It is an honor to have some real royalty in our house. Though, I'm not sure how long you'll be royalty with the way things are going."
"Who are you?" Jaune asked.
"Oh? A spokesperson? I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Though I am intrigued that out of all the people holding her hand under the table"—Jaune quickly let go of Ruby's hand under the table—"it had to be the only living grandson of the last Maréchal de Mistral."
The Empress stole a glance at the blond. His grandfather was a marshal in the Mistralian Royal Army?
"Bet he didn't tell you that, eh, Your Imperial Majesty. House D'Arc has an admirable, if not vague, military legacy. Just so you know."
"You still didn't answer my question," he hissed.
The woman rolled her eyes. "How rude. But I'll let that slide. The name's Little Miss Malachite and these are my Spiders."
"Well, Madame Malachite," Pyrrha started diplomatically. "Judging by the circumstances of our journey here, we believe you may have been involved or directly responsible for our safe retrieval from the wilderness."
She smirked. "You're welcome, Ma'amselle Nikos."
Ruby cleared her throat. "In that case, thank you, Miss Malachite. Sincerely, I thank you."
Malachite beamed. "Well, did you hear that? A compliment from a royal! Never thought I'd see the day."
Dove hissed. "Hey, she's being gracious to you!"
"And I'm being cheeky, boy. Doesn't mean I'm not ungrateful." She made a small wave and half the Spiders present in the tavern holstered their weapons. "Now I'm sure you have so many questions."
"Answers aren't cheap, huh," Cardin grunted.
"No, Monsieur Winchester, they're not. Especially not to people like you."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Cardin," Pyrrha hissed. "Calm down."
Jaune fished out his wallet. "Madame Malachite, we're willing to pay—"
Malachite held up her hand. "Now, now. I have a special offer. One time only so listen up: every question asked by the Empress here and now is free of charge. But only the Empress. Anyone of you clowns starts asking, you're going to have to pay the fee."
"That's fair," Ruby replied instantly with a glower that silenced those around her. "First off, what is happening right now?"
"Oh, you didn't notice? Well, I'd be redundant if I answered that question."
"Then tell me what I don't know, what none of us don't know."
The woman fanned herself for a moment. Her smile slowly faded and morphed into a deep, serious scowl. "Mistral is gutting itself trying to prepare for a war with Sanus that it can't win."
"Can't win? Why is that?"
"Because Mistral is significantly weaker than what it used to be while Sanus is just as strong as ever, if not stronger. The Royal Army can hold back the Empire for so long before the Kingdom would crumble under its own weight."
The Empress blinked. "The situation is that dire?"
Malachite let out a bitter laugh. "Wow. I don't know whether to be impressed by our propaganda ministry or amused that you believed any of that."
Ruby growled. "I know Mistral is unstable."
"Mistral has always been unstable. It's all thanks to your frumentarii that things have gotten even worse. I won't hold that against you, though. After all, they weren't acting on your orders given that you were a child back then."
Child.
The young sovereign ground her teeth behind her lips.
"They were quite effective back then," Malachite continued. "Starting scandals, factionalizing the Cour Royale, essentially dividing us to the point that we could barely defend our borders against the independent princes."
Ruby glanced to team JNPR to see the complete surprise on their faces. Yes, they were Mistralian citizens by law and had practically grown up in the boundaries of the Kingdom. However, she could see their astonishment coming from the fact that many of the endemic problems they had borne witness to were the result of the Empire. The air between them on their side of the table warmed up uncomfortably.
"Conscription is in full effect hence why most of our rooms have been...fully booked."
"You're sheltering draft dodgers," Ren said.
"We offer sanctuary to those who pay," she corrected smugly. "Besides, we need revenue to keep this place up and running. And out of sight and out of mind of the Armée Royale, the Maréchaussée, and, of course, your frumentarii."
"Do any of them even know we're here?" Ruby asked.
Malachite snickered. "Now why worry about that?"
The Empress jumped to her feet and slammed her hands on the table. "I'm worried because I'm trying to stop this war from happening! You say my agents are here. They need to know so I can go public and get Ozma to cease—"
The woman, unintimidated, leaned over the table. "It's not that easy."
"What do you mean it's not that easy!? I need to announce myself to the world in order to appease—"
"Your frumentarii will prevent that from happening."
Dead silence. Teams JNPR and CRDL were on the edge of their seats, the former group surprised that their Kingdom had long since been infiltrated by Imperial agents, the latter group stunned that their fellow Sanussians were not going to make things any better. The young sovereign stood gaping in disbelief until she felt Jaune tugging at her wrist.
"Ruby," he voiced softly. Sit down, his eyes pleaded.
Inhale, exhale. Ruby sat back down. "Miss Malachite, what do you mean by that?"
"The Spiders were never...well-established, so to speak. The antics of the frumentarii prompted a unified front against them, where they could be neutralized or at least evicted. So we did just that. We got rid of them, turned the rest. You may have noticed how some of the people here bear striking Imperial traits."
Unlike the two teams she was with, Ruby did not need to look around to know how many of the people in this tavern had been former agents of her own Empire. "So you're employing some of my agents."
"Ozma's agents."
Yes. They had been Ozma's agents, following Ozma's orders. Now they were disavowed rogues eking out a living with the specializations they learned from the Empire. "Are you telling me that there are frumentarii present here in this city who are not on your payroll who are bent on preventing me, or anyone, from attempting to stop an Imperial invasion?"
"If there are any, we've already dealt with him. Except for one. A veteran frumentarius, former or current, we don't know."
"Yet," intoned Ren.
Malachite smirked. "Yet. We only found out about him a week ago. We lost some good people trying to eliminate him. So we tried to turn him. We lost even more. We dug around but found a lot of unreliable leads, false identities, and even outright gibberish. So technically, we labelled him as a frumentarius because that's how they operate."
"He's throwing you off his trail," Nora intoned.
"He has. But he we still got something on him: he's a faunus."
"That at least narrows the scope," remarked Jaune.
Cardin grunted. "Yeah, but a lot of frumentarii are faunus. A lot of them are drawn from the Imperial Army or recruited from gods know where in the Empire. Heck, they even draw from the Imperial Guard from time to time."
"Miss Malachite, do you know anything more?" Ruby interrogated.
The woman paused. Contemplating. A wordless exchange between her and the pair of rogues flanking her. Then a shrug. "We haven't fully confirmed this. However, given that we're working towards the same goal, it would be right to at least share what little truths we could find. This agent has extensive experience in the Imperial Army and perhaps even the Imperial Guard."
"A veteran," Pyrrha echoed.
"No questions then about his expertise," Ren added.
"What about his motives?" Ruby pressed. "What's his mission?"
"Our best guess right now is that he's making sure that you remain 'missing' for the Empire to have every reason to invade."
The Empress shook her head. "That can't be right. He has to be rogue."
"There are plenty of other reasons why you might want to consider postponing your grand unveiling, Your Imperial Majesty." The woman gestured to the widescreen mounted above the bar broadcasting a muted news report about the sudden rioting in parts of the Kingdom. "Half of this country blames you for this mess. With your Guardsmen elsewhere and the Armée Royale stretched thin, showing your face might bring more bad than good."
Ruby slumped on her chair. This was maddeningly frustrating. First Adam, then Raven, now people within the Empire were conspiring to force a third punitive expedition that would hurt her people as much as it would hurt Mistral. A part of her diverged on a tangent...
Was Ozma...? No. No, it couldn't be. It shouldn't be!
The Empress took steady breaths. First, she needed Qrow. She needed her Imperial Guard back as they were the only force she could rely on other than her newfound friends. "What about...what about my Guardsmen? And Praefect Qrow Branwen? Do you know anything about them?"
"Your Praefect is alive and well. The rest of your Guardsmen though..."
"Are they well? How many survived?"
Malachite raised a brow as did the other Spiders flanking them. "Most of them survived. They've either recovered or are recovering."
Ruby nodded in relief. "Good. That's great to know. Is there any way I can contact Qrow? He needs to know that I'm here." She needed him by her side; she needed to gather up her three cohorts—or what was left of them—before she could make any more moves.
"Praefect Branwen was last seen at Haven Academy."
"Okay. We can head there and—"
"Three days ago. We have neither seen nor heard of him since."
The young sovereign deflated. "What about the Guardsmen I sent to Kuchinashi? Did you find out anything about them?"
"Other than the fact that they relieved an Imperial garrison, nothing more. We are keeping an eye on them and so far, they've been sitting in their fort."
"So they lifted the siege."
"Siege?" Malachite stifled a chortle. "Is that what it was?"
Ruby narrowed her eyes. "What could it have been?"
"A skirmish."
A skirmish? "They were surrounded by an organized army of bandits, deserters, and mercenaries!"
The information broker laughed much to the confusion and annoyance of her guests. When she calmed down, her mirth gave way to genuine surprise. "Mon Dieu, is that what Hestus said it was?"
Hestus? As in Hestus Saccarde? "Wait. You know Consul Saccarde?"
"Why, he's one of our biggest clients, Your Imperial Majesty," cooed the older woman. "I'll leave it at that.
The Empress slid back, stunned. This was too much. Yet there was a lot more she demanded to know. Unfortunately, that had to wait as someone burst onto the threshold of the tavern hollering in Mistralian. Jaune snapped his head over his shoulder upon hearing some choice words that Ruby discerned to be about the Royal Army...or the Royal Knights.
Half the Spiders were already on their feet, some drawing their weapons and pacing to the entrance. That was until Little Miss Malachite raised her voice and brought order. She issued a string of commands while the lackeys beside her motioned for the Empress and the two teams to stand up.
"It seems we'll be accommodating more guests," Malachite seethed through her teeth.
"Who is it? What's going on?"
"Sounded like the Maréchaussée," Pyrrha reported uneasily. "They might have been onto us."
"Not just the Maréchaussée," Jaune parroted somberly.
"Great," Cardin hissed, his hand resting on the pommel of his mace. "Just so you know, I'm not one for fighting cops."
"You won't have to," Malachite barked. "We have space in the cellar." She directed a command to one of her subordinates who quickly opened up the door behind the bar, hinting at them to follow.
Jaune started moving first. He grabbed the young sovereign by the wrist and pulled. Hard. Ruby squeaked at being so forcefully tugged that she nearly stumbled against him. Pyrrha caught her and helped her through the gap though not without throwing a reproachful glare at her partner...who ignored her entirely.
Ruby tried to keep up on the hasty descent down the staircase with the rest of team JNPR and team CRDL filtering in after her. While the air was moist and the fumes of the fermenting wine strong, the cellar was very spacious and they paused to find places to settle. Except they were prodded to keep moving to the back where the Spider escorting them reached under one of the wine racks and tugged.
And one of the empty cabinets began rolling to the side, revealing a wooden door. It was dark but the Spider handed Jaune a lantern. Upstairs, the noise was drowned out by boots thudding against the floorboards and a stern voice bartering with Little Miss Malachite.
Jaune hesitated at the sound. As did Pyrrha, Nora, and Ren. Team JNPR exchanged glances at each other.
"Quit stalling!" Cardin hollered. "Go!"
The blond team leader held up the lantern and dragged Ruby through. Over their footfalls squelching on unseen puddles, the Empress heard an older man booming out in accented Common, drowning out the flurry of Mistralian that had been thrown about moments ago.
"You are indebted to me, Malachite!" that voice demanded. "Tell me where she is!"
Creak. Click. Scraping.
They were now sealed inside this indiscernible cavern, wandering forward over the faint stench of sewage. Before long, the noise from above faded. Ruby eased her wrist away from Jaune's grip. He stopped walking. And they stopped walking.
"Who was that?" the Empress asked.
The blond Huntsman apprentice held up his lantern to show a face conflicted and angry. It was the same face shared by his teammates, contrasting the confusion and insecurity on team CRDL. Pyrrha stared wide-eyed at the ripples shining around her boots while Ren met Nora's surprise with his own.
"Jaune," Ruby prodded. "Who was that?"
Jaune sighed. "Headmaster Lionheart."
ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: December 16, 2019
LAST EDITED: December 24, 2019
INITIALLY UPLOADED: December 24, 2019
NOTE: Be careful what you eat and drink for the Holidays, folks. Moderate your merriment.