XVII: Fame is Less Than Infamy
Smoke blew into Tiny's round face as he opened the double door to the Slappy Stingray. A mournfully twanged melody played over the air in the background. His eyes had to adjust to the limited light offered by the dim fixtures. He had nearly stumbled on the frayed and torn carpeting with his first step inside. Once they had focused, he surveyed the room.
All was as he left it a few weeks ago during his previous visit. The interior room was an open space that contained only a few free-standing tables for those that wanted to chat quietly away from everyone else. There was not much in the way of decorations, except for an ornate dial radio that sat on the bar's edge and the mural of a saucy devil ray clutching a mug in its flipper. That was fine by most people. Relay's denizens did not come here for the scenery or atmosphere.
The main real estate of the saloon was taken up by a large oak bar top in the back. It extended the length of the room and could seat fourteen comfortably. At peak hours, it would serve thirty with another twenty trying to push their way in. There was a small gap at the end of the table for a hallway that connected to the bathroom and the emergency exit. That was by design. Nobody wanted a long walk to be able to piss or to escape a fire when drunk. Accidents would happen that way.
This cantina was one of the few places in town that always had customers when open. Even at this time of day, it was still a dirty place filled with filthy people. A few regulars he recognized from previous visits were present along with a few new faces. As per usual, eight customers slumped forward on their stools at the front of the raised counter. Some were in a daze. A few were actively drooling into their beverages. Even more were dead to the world.
He did not dwell on those that were present. They were unimportant to his mission. Behind the bar, seven shiny spigots stood beside an out of place clean cut man by the name of Heidenreich. The bartender slash owner of the watering hole was alone back there but he seemed at ease with the barely conscious men that surrounded him. Taking an empty seat beside a drunkard who was resting their head on the wooden top, Tiny motioned for the server to come his way. The lone attendant went over to him immediately.
"Whatcha want?" Asked the copper headed bartender needlessly with a gruff voice.
"Something hard." Replied the bare-knuckle brawler.
Heidenreich nodded. He grabbed a yellow glass and filled it with a dark brown liquid from the tap. Setting the mug down broke Tiny's concentration. Grateful for the quick service, he drank it down. There was a hint of cinnamon and other spices. He determined that he was not a fan of the taste, although he continued to drink more. If it got him some of those good vibrations, he was not going to complain. Besides, unlike the others, he was not there for the alcohol. Not really.
"Got anything with a little more kick, Heinie?" He breathed into the mug. No one was paying him any mind, but it was better to play it safe than sorry. That was what Mead always told him. The muffled words were easily caught by the swill slinger. An inclined head from the red-haired man indicated he understood the meaning of the words.
"Check the last stall on the left after I come back. Ten minutes." Whispered the bartender easily. "And make sure to leave a big tip this time. I have bills to pay and the boss man puts the screws to me too often."
Tiny nodded and took another gulp as he watched the man go back to his duties. He was feeling good and focused this afternoon. Having a job helped. Defined missions and tasks always did it for him by lifting the haze. Without a goal, he would be sitting alone in a corner with only his thoughts to keep him company. He was not a fan of that lifestyle for long stretches of time. It got old real fast. Made him start to itch for action. That urge would lead to him making mistakes.
Peeping out at the other patrons, he was unimpressed with the sights. Only slobbery, greasy men surrounded him. Most of the excitement to be found was around a bespectacled man who was singing along with the radio. He had a good voice that was going hoarse from repeated use. A few patrons rewarded him with jeers and by tossing lien in his direction.
The one thing he missed about Vale, when he could remember Vale at all, was the nightlife. That was where the more glamorous side of living was, with its lights, attractions, and beautiful women. The boss in Vale had a good set-up that Tiny would visit on the weekends to party and pick up odd jobs. There were tales of a nightclub in these parts out in the countryside, but he did not dare go. Loud noises and strobe lights would set off his condition and give him migraines. Besides, nothing in a small town like this could measure up to what he had experienced in the big city.
After completing a few more orders and menial tasks, Heidenreich made a big show of clearing his throat. This got the attention of the room. Those that were half awake strained to lift their heads. Some dread on their faces showed they were afraid that the bar was closing early.
"I'm going to clean the bathroom real quick." There were some slurred whispers in the dank environment. That was a newsworthy announcement. Cleaning was the last thing they had ever seen him do. "Just to let you fellas know, I have measured the carrying capacity level of all of the kegs. If it is below what I have when I get back, I'm banning you lot for a whole week."
There were a couple of rumblings of acceptance and dismissal from the clientele. The overall feeling expressed was that no one would risk it for a few free drinks. Where would they go if not here? There was some truth to the words. Heidenreich ran the only beer hall in the area that was local and not controlled by the animals. Many would have to travel far and wide to find a place like this to drink away their sorrows.
Satisfied that his threat was heeded, the owner left to complete his business. For show, he picked up a mop from underneath the counter to take with him. A dozen pairs of groggy eyes watched him as he went. Even those that had looked passed out seconds before lifted their bleary heads. There was silence as they all listened for the sign.
The creak of the metal bathroom door opening and closing was like a starter pistol going off in the enclosed space. The men came to life with action. Immediately, those at the bar reached over the top and refilled their glasses using the spigots. Once unconscious men at the outer tables came to life with surprising speed to queue up and get their share.
The one thing that the bartender had not accounted for was that his customers were not stupid. Threats, like the one he gave, were only as good as the ability to enforce them. They all knew there was no way of measuring how much of the good stuff was left in those kegs at any given time. Heinie was too much of a cheapskate to get those kinds of taps. If they were wrong, then it would only be a weeklong ban. They could drink at home for that amount of time.
Tiny finished off his pint and did similarly to everyone else. He was going to leave a very generous something for the bar owner later. The very least Heinie could spring for was a freebie on the house. Besides, the stuff he was taking was not that expensive. Not being a picky drinker did not mean the former cage fighter was completely lacking in taste. The Vale boss' club charged less for higher quality spirits. What was served in this hole in the wall was only a half-step up from drinking liquid lighter Dust. The new concoction he drew for himself was a hoppy beer with a satisfyingly bitter after taste.
While he waited for his provider to come back, Tiny distracted himself with some art. Taking his index finger, he drew a smiley face into white residue on the brown surface he sat at. It joined a scroll number written in black marker asking for a good time, and an odd circle someone had carved with a knife. The design contained several spokes and triangles radiating out from the center. Whoever had left it had practiced. The usual jagged edges from someone new to leaving knife carved graffiti were absent. He felt himself get lost in the intricate design.
A screeching sound produced a slight lull in the activities. The country music that had been playing was briefly replaced with static that resembled someone running a nail across a glass pane. A male voice faded in and out of the white noise for a few seconds. The vocals were complemented by an electronic beat. Those in mid pull stopped what they were doing to look over at the radio in a slight startle.
"The blasted thing must be on the fritz again." A good old boy in overalls nearby gave the radio a thumping with the back of his hand. When that did not fix it, he frowned and hit it again. The interruption gradually disappeared until only the original programming was left. Satisfied that what they were doing would not be interrupted, the spirit thieves returned to their activities.
Tiny rubbed his temples to try and get the sounds out of his head. He felt something on his face. Looking at his finger, there was an odd white smudge on it. This confused him. He wondered how this foul substance had gotten on his finger. Looking around in confusion, he saw that he was in a bar. The Slappy Stingray. He wondered why he was there. He only came here when he needed something from Heinie.
"Hey. I'm back." The bartender nudged him. Tiny blinked. The appearance of the one he was thinking about was unexpected. Had he gone somewhere? "Are you going to hang out longer? If so, I need to remove your package so someone doesn't take off with it."
That was right. He was on a mission. The haze had descended briefly upon him and obscured his thoughts. That happened sometimes when he least expected it. Dropping some payment on the bar top, he gave his thanks to Heinie and made his way to the other end of the table. Shimmying by a lush who was leaning against the wall, he lumbered to the bathroom. There were two large metal doors in the hallway. He entered the one on the right.
The insides were somehow even darker than the main bar. The only light source was a pair of rectangular flood windows that let in the afternoon sun. Yellow tiles that had not seen a scrubbing in years made his soles sticky. There were five stalls to check. He forgot which one had the goods, so he started with the one on the right near the urinals. Pushing in the stall door, there was a foul stench but nothing else. Someone had not flushed. Shaking his head, he tried the next one. Nothing but vomit in there. If the owner was trying to convince people he ran a sanitary business, he needed to try harder. Any competent health inspector would have closed him down years ago.
It was then that he remembered to check the far-left stall instead. How he had forgotten, he had no idea. That was where he always left his packages. The door swung inward to reveal another empty nook. Luckily, no disgusting presents were inside. There was something strange. The flimsy door did not slam into the divider. Instead, he heard a clicking noise of metal grinding together.
Entering inside, he closed the door behind him. Hanging on a hook in front of him was a black backpack. Lifting it off, he sat down on the commode. Unzipping the fabric revealed three bundles. Unwrapping the top covering revealed sleek black metal. A few clips and boxes of ammunition were also inside. They were marked with the logo of a company that specialized in selling Dust rounds. This brought a smile to Tiny's face.
Standing, he zipped up the backpack and looped it around his back. The back of his pants was now wet, but he ignored the grossness. Reaching into his pocket, he brought out a stuffed vanilla envelope that he had filled with lien. He added a few more white cards to it from his wallet to make up the difference for the drink he had taken. Folding the overly full envelope in half, he stuffed it into the empty paper toilet seat cover dispenser. No one would find it in there.
With a pep in his step, he left the bathroom with a renewed swagger. He made as much noise as possible to signal that he was done. Heidenreich would now know to check for his payment. Pushing the other metal door in the hallway open brought him out into a cool alleyway with a couple of green dumpsters against a red brick wall.
With his mission accomplished, he made his way out of the lot behind the bar. He needed to head back to the hotel room where he would report his successful procurement to Mead. Things were going just swell for the muscle of the crew. It was an infectious and exciting feeling that radiated in his entire being. He wanted to celebrate.
Tiny began to whistle.
〇-〇-〇
It had been a death march back to home base.
Once the militia group had arrived, there was no time for rest. They had all been brought to the medical tent to get another look over by a more experienced eye. Their resident nurse proceeded to patch them up with clean cloth and to prescribe some light pain medication. He praised Laz for her good work at patching them up while also chastising them all for getting injured in the first place. That was not the end of the lectures they got.
"Should I begin by listing the number of ways in which what you did was incredibly stupid?" Cora started her rant.
Since Billy's injuries were the worst, he was told to lay down on a bed for observation. The irate commander had also stayed behind to give him an earful. His squad mates had been dismissed and told that she would be around to talk to them later. She wanted to talk to Graves first. The nurse was also temporarily discharged from service. He was set to protest until Cora had said something that broke his resolve and caused him to flee.
They were alone now.
"No. I-" The bandaged captain began to explain himself. He did not get much further in the excuse.
"First, where do you get off thinking you can enter Relay's territory without their permission? You've been on enough patrols with Kohl to know that is a big no-no." She paced the room in front of Graves assigned bed.
"Well, it's just-" He started again but that was also shot down.
"Second, you were supposed to be looking for a Grimm. Why, in the Gods' name, would you even be looking inside a house? And why take the people who lived there as prisoners!?" She stamped her foot. "Why would you ever think any of that was okay? Have you learned nothing since you joined up?"
"I thought I was doing good…" He muttered.
"What was that?" She asked, pushing closer to him. Now standing over his bed, her towering figure made him feel so insignificant. He now felt as small as he did when she would tell him off as a child. "You know I can't hear you when you don't speak up."
"I said I thought I was doing good!" Billy looked up with determination. Something had to be done. He was going to convince her of this point. That confidence died an ugly death under her fierce glare. No one could stand up to those piercing midnight eyes of hers.
People in the militia would often joke about how there were actually two Coras; Fun loving Cora and Commander Corazón. They all respected Cora, even when she acted goofy. But, they all followed the Commander. There was no humor to be found in her demeanor. She was in full leader mode now.
"And that brings me to my final point." That gaze of hers somehow got fiercer. If looks could kill, he would have been stone dead. "Do you have any idea how much danger you put yourself and the people under your command in? Any idea at all how much you have single handedly damaged our already rocky relationship with Relay?"
He looked away. He did not have an answer. All he could do was mumble a few words to himself. There was no defense in the way she laid things out. Nothing to be said. She still expected something from him, however.
"Well?" She demanded.
"I think he did marvelously." It was not Billy who said that. The voice came from the tent flap that was now open. There stood proud Stella Lee. On either side of her stood solemn bodyguards. They were in full White Fang regalia. Ms. Lee wore only a simple grey gown with a blue shawl over her shoulders. "Our partnership with that town has been on the outs for a long time. It should have ended long ago. The time has come for us to stand apart from those who hate us so."
"That," Cora turned to the other woman with her wrath pointed at a new target. "is not your decision to make."
"You're right." The older woman swept her arms high as if on a stage. She took a few steadied steps in their direction. "That is our people's choice. Shall we ask for a voice vote at the next assembly?"
"No. There will not be a vote on this." Cora shook her head while also taking a step forward. Her grandmother frowned at the rebuke. She was not used to being challenged. "This matter was settled when we renewed the treaty. I refuse to let us be the ones to break our word just because things get a little tense. Not because of our actions."
"Silly me. I assumed that our community made decisions as one. I must have missed the meeting where we decided to let our appointed protector make all of the judgments by herself."
Ms. Lee was goading Cora on now. Daring her to lash out. The bodyguards in white masks looked nervous. They seemed unsure if they should get involved or not. If there was a fight, what could they do?
Rather than getting in her face, the Matron sidestepped the Commander to come up to Billy's bedside. Ms. Lee was now facing him directly while Cora stayed firm pointed at the entryway. Both of their heads turned simultaneously to regard the other. Young against old. Like lions in a pride sizing up an opponent. Seeing them standing next to each other now brought out the family similarities for Billy. They were so much alike.
"Commander!" Came a new shout. Standing out there now was his fellow captain, Sapphire. She tried to squeeze between the lingering body men, but they stood their ground and did not allow her access. Her freckled cheeks did their best impersonation of a puffer fish before she continued with the urgent message. "Some Ursa Grimm have been spotted at the crossing. We need you to consult on our containment plan."
The interruption ended the face off. Billy breathed a sigh of relief when Cora stepped away from her position next to his bed to go and deal with the new threat. She adjusted the beret on her head while turning her back on the both of them. The meeting was now over, but not without a parting shot.
"We will talk later. You can count on that." The Commander hissed. It seemed to be directed at the both of them. He did not relish a future confrontation. Hopefully, she had calmed down by then. Stella Lee was unfazed by the threat and promise.
"Run along dear." The elder flippantly dismissed her. "Please drop by home later when you have an opportunity. I am sure I can fit you into my schedule."
Cora growled as she stormed off to follow Sappy to deal with the encroaching threat. Standing there, the older woman regarded him silently before she appeared to decide on something. Ms. Lee gently asked her armed protectors to stand outside the medical facility to wait for her to finish up. They bowed at once and followed her instruction. That left them alone. To what end, he was not sure. It was not an enviable position. Injured and alone with an apex predator.
"You did a good job. Beyond even my expectations when I gave you this task." She said slowly, having read his mood correctly. It was done to not startle him.
"I didn't find the Grimm. I failed." He let his head dip to stare at his hands. Had he gone overboard? At the time, it all felt right. Maybe he had gotten carried away with the power that he held. Ms. Lee was having none of that.
"You did not find the monster yet, but some things are more important. You have given us our dignity as a people back. Already your praises are being sung and the rot of Relay now lays bare for our little corner of Remnant to see."
"Really?" The vindication from the true ruler of Tocsin felt good. Billy felt his heart lift at the announcement. It fell to the ground again when he remembered what had just happened with his commander. "I wish Cora saw it that way."
"Now now. My children were always so strong willed. It is no surprise that it passed on to the next generation." She placed a hand on his shoulder. Thankfully, it was the uninjured one. He winced anyway at the contact. "Living here has sheltered her from the reality of our struggle. She will come around once she sees what this world is really like. These are the growing pains that all of our kind go through."
"Maybe…"
"Let us not dwell on the matter. Instead, let us look to the future. Your future, to be exact. I see big things coming your way." Taking a seat at the foot of the bed, she stretched her legs while leaning forward. Those dark gems of hers twinkled as she began to talk of her plans for him.
He listened.
〇-〇-〇
Cyan Roscoe's mind was in a whirl as she drove from the ferry stop back to her office in downtown Relay. Her clinging passenger had tried to get more information out of her about what was happening. Qrow gave up when he realized how serious she was taking the situation. She was grateful for the silence. It gave her more time to process all of what she had learned.
Reading through the messages on her scroll felt like a series of punches to the gut. It was a complete disaster. She tried to calmly review what she knew and what she did not know. There had been a shootout between her department and the Tocsin militia. Several of her volunteers were now being treated for wounds. One of them was critical after having been shot in the side. Since she had received messages from both Cora and Maggie, they both must have been present at the scene. After the flurry of messages, there was radio silence. That was either good or bad, with little in-between.
I was gone for less than a day! She wanted to scream into the sky.
Beyond just the injuries, there was also what the clash between the two forces represented. It signaled another rapid deterioration of the relationship between the twin settlements. She knew the alliance with Tocsin was now in mortal danger. It was like someone had hit it with a car and then proceeded to backed up over it. Even without any deaths, she struggled to think of how it could get any worse.
Cyan drove around the front of the Sherriff's Office to get to her parking spot. While passing the front, she noted several volunteers and civilians milling about outside. There seemed to be a lot of excitement and yelling by those trying to figure out what had happened. Shifting her weight forward on the Dillo to press a button on the dash, the garage door to Bay One opened to allow them inside.
Coming to a stop next to the other motorcycles, they both dismounted. With her Dillo docked, that made all four machines accounted for. That meant that Maggie, Mal, and the Sherriff were all present at once. It was abnormal for all full-timers to be in the same place at the same time, but it made sense due to the circumstances. Her and Qrow were going to have to be careful now that Wendeval was here. With some luck, they would all be too busy to notice her and her new partner.
"What are you doing here!?" Cried out Mal as they entered the main building. He had been leaning against her office door, as if waiting for her to come back.
Apparently, the two of them flying under the radar was too much for Cyan to hope for. Numerous volunteers who had been chatting and gossiping with each other turned to watch the disturbance. Maggie exited her office to check on what was happening. Her eyes narrowed at Qrow, but she stayed back to watch what happened next.
"Hey there. Deputy Droog, right?" Qrow offered. Cyan shot him a scowl for the obvious provocation but he went on smiling. She hoped Mal would have the good sense to not rise to the slight against him.
"It's Dwrg!" He declared as he took the bait. Because of course he did. "And why are you still walking around free and not in a cell?"
"Y'know, that is something I ask myself every day." The Huntsman waxed philosophically while stroking his stubbled chin and looking off into the distance. He then focused on the male deputy with a sinister grin. "Feel free to try to put me in one if you think you can. It would be entertaining to watch you fail again."
"Why I oughta-."
"Okay, let's simmer down everyone." Cyan stepped in before Qrow could be given a reason to turn her fellow deputy into a red paste on the wall. Maggie watched the two of them intently while the volunteers whispered amongst themselves. "Mr. Branwen has agreed to submit for monitoring until we clear things up."
"What is there to understand? He assaulted me!" The buck toothed man practically screeched in bloody murder. As much as she hated it, that was not an unjustified position to have. There were, however, mitigating circumstances.
"And you pointed your gun at him without provocation or identifying yourself." She started peacefully. "Which, by the way, violates our code of conduct. I am not saying two wrongs make a right here, but we need to consider all angles before we start throwing huntsmen in jail. Vale would not stand for it."
"If he even is a huntsman." Declared a new voice. In the archway of his office, leaned the Sheriff himself. He clearly had been listening in on the conversation. He only now decided to insert himself into the discussion.
"I got a license and everything." Qrow pointed out before frowning and patting his pockets. "Well, not on me, but I do have one."
"And I got an APB stating you were declared rogue and stripped of that license." Wendeval declared with a fist pounding on the door frame. It rattled the metal beam, causing some plaster to fall from the ceiling. One smart volunteer who stood nearby took a big step back.
"What can I say?" The supposed rogue held his hands up nonchalantly. "They jumped the gun before investigating. I am sure they will issue a retraction soon if they have not already. Why don't you go check your inbox and see? Seems like a better use of your time rather than standing there and accusing me of something you know nothing about."
Despite being surrounded by people who would swarm him if given the order, the Huntsman did not seem nervous at all. Cyan began to wonder if Qrow was really that strong or he had a death wish. Maybe both. Wendeval was becoming more incensed at the insubordination. The answer he received just aggravated him even further.
"You think you are so slick, huh Branwen?" The Sheriff declared in a gruff tone. His pale face burned red in rising anger. A lone vain on his forehead began to pulse in a deadly rhythm. "We aren't in Vale anymore. None of your friends in high places are going to get you out of this one."
It was around this point that Maggie decided to interject with a cough.
"Sir, shouldn't we be focusing on other problems? Mr. Branwen is not going anywhere." She gestured to the band around Cyan's companion's neck. Wendevel eyed the addition and smirked. He knew that gave him power over Qrow. That seemed to relax him. After all, the circlet did more than just track movements.
She had not told Qrow, but with its placement around his neck, Cyan could deliver over ten thousand volts of electricity directly into his sternum. It was the only way to convince the Sheriff that she had him under control. Since she was the only one with the remote to activate it, she was sure it would not be misused. It also gave her some protection if something were to happen between them. While she was beginning to trust him, she could not ignore the information she had been given about his past.
Only a fool would.
"Once again, you are correct Deputy Mae. We do have some things to sort out with those thugs in Relay first." Cyan tried to keep from scowling but some of her true feelings slipped out. Mal noticed. He showed his yellow teeth in glee. "You keep this one on a short leash, Deputy Roscoe. For your sake if no one else's."
He returned to his office with Mal in tow and closed the door behind him. If Cyan thought bringing Qrow back here would get that kind of response out of the Sheriff, she might not have bothered. Or she would have been more careful by asking Qrow to wait in the garage. Treading carefully in her own place of work did not make her job any easier.
"Do you know him?" She immediately questioned the irreverent man beside her. As unusual as it was to see the Sheriff around the office, it was also strange to see him get so ruffled by someone who was not a faunus. He was usually differential to huntsmen whenever they stopped by. It was almost like he had a previous history with Qrow.
"Not that I remember, but I wouldn't be surprised if I did something to make him cross. I tend not to make too many friends with people that are that stuck up."
She could believe that. His bedside manner could use a little work. Maggie approached the two of them while the volunteers pretended to get back to work. Many were still listening in and not doing a good job of hiding it. One of them was play-acting to type at a terminal that was not plugged in.
"Ma'am. Mr. Branwen." She addressed them formally.
"Heya. Maggie, right? You were there at the bakery with the other guy, correct?" He held out a hand in introduction. There was a slight grimace in his face as Maggie took a hold of it. "That's a strong handshake you got there."
"Correct. Deputy Magenta Mae. Quartermaster." Judging by Qrow's face, her grip increased in pressure with each sentence. She then let go of his limb, allowing him to retreat the arm back to his side.
"Jeez Louise. What were you before becoming a deputy?" He shook his hand at his waist as if trying to return feeling to it.
"I was a member of the Atlas military. Formerly of the Specialist Ace-Ops division."
"Wasn't aware there was any such thing as a 'former Specialist' out there."
"Exactly. And do not call me Louise." Her eyes became slits towards him. Qrow, for the first time that Cyan had ever seen, looked to be taking someone seriously. He stopped waving his hand around and straightened up as if to answer her silent challenge.
"Uh, guys." The senior deputy tried and succeeded in gaining their attention. Maggie had the decency to cough in embarrassment. Qrow did not care and instead stuck his hands in his pockets. "I take it things have been tense since I have been gone. What happened? The reports were skimpy on the details except for the injuries."
"Commander Corazón contacted me yesterday evening to report a squad under her command had gone missing around our territory. I assisted her in trying to locate them. Unfortunately, a posse consisting of Deputy Dwrg discovered them first and a firefight broke out before we could stop it."
"Of course, Mal was involved in all of this." Cyan shook her head. Even when she assigned him to the least troublesome of the patrol areas, he still found a way to be a nuisance. If it were only him getting hurt, she could ignore it, but now he was getting their civilian volunteers harmed. Something needed to be done about him, and soon. What that something would be, she had no idea. "Where are Cora and her command now? Were any charges filed?"
"We hit a pause on all of that. There were injured people to take care of, so we decided we would have discussions about what to do later. The last time I saw them, the Commander was leading her people out of our territory."
"Good." Cyan breathed in relief. That gave them more time to think about what to do next. If any of the militia members were sitting in jail, things could get ugly. The townspeople would want blood and the Sheriff might have given it to them.
"I am sorry ma'am." She bowed her head in deference. "I accept full responsibility for not finding them in a timely manner."
"Not like I can cast fault on you. I was not in a position to stop it either." Cyan sighed. "But I believe we can be forgiven for not knowing that a second Great War would break out while we were not paying attention."
"Exactly." Qrow added on to the statement. "There is no point in dwelling on it and blaming yourselves for things that are out of your control."
"I believe accountability is an important facet of our jobs, Mr. Branwen." Maggie sharply added in rebuke. "If it is not our fault, then whose is it? The responsibility must belong to someone. It is our duty to keep the peace and we failed."
Personally, Cyan thought a fair share of blame fell on the Sheriff. He had been stoking the tensions between the two sides for a long time. Undermining the partnership between Relay and Tocsin only ever had one predictable result. It was only a matter of time before something like this happened. The only surprise was that it had not happened sooner.
"Then do better." He shrugged. Maggie raised a finger to say something when he cut her off. "That new 'Great War' of yours hasn't started yet, right? There is still time to put it back as it was. Enough with the pity party and get back to work."
"He's got a point." Cyan added before an argument could erupt between the two. "There are still things we can do. I need to go to Tocsin anyway on a related matter. I will take the opportunity to figure out where we stand with them. Think you can keep things from boiling over around here, Maggie?"
"I will try my best." She saluted. "Will you be safe in Tocsin? I imagine the situation is dire over there."
"Of course. We still have Cora on our side to help out." She brushed off the concern. If anything, Cyan was probably safer in Tocsin than in Relay at the moment. And was that not a sad thing to know? "Besides, I got my very own huntsman to act as a bodyguard, right Qrow?"
"More like a babysitter." The surly man grunted. "But yeah, might as well keep you safe. I got nothing better to do."
"I am filled with confidence." Cyan snarked back. "Regardless, we need to stay out in front of this."
"Might I offer some advice on that front?" The other deputy offered.
"Sure." Any guidance would be welcomed at this point.
"Work fast, Ma'am. The storm clouds are gathering."
Chapter Next: The Masterplan (7/31/20)