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Chapter 82
"This is too far!" Glynda hissed. "Much too far!"
"Professor Arc asked me to tailor the perfect night for this… thing." Coco Adal weakly finished, unsure herself what she was meant to refer to Salem as. "He said the fate of the city could rest on her having a good time. I don't think there's such a thing as too far in that case, Miss Goodwitch."
"I did ask her that," Jaune said. "Though even I have to admit this is… well…"
"You said a perfect party for her. I didn't have much to go on other than what you told me about her. It. Whatever that thing is. Maybe if you told me what food she liked or what is her favourite music, I'd have had more ideas."
"We don't know any of those things."
"Exactly." The young woman huffed, crossing her arms and looking quite indignant. "I did the best I could with what I had. Take it or leave it."
"We'll take it, and thank you, Coco," Jaune said before Glynda could raise another point. It really was unfair to expect more from Coco when she hadn't even met Salem. It wasn't like they had any better ideas.
"At least it's mostly going to be private," Glynda muttered.
There was that. Obviously, it wasn't a good idea to parade Salem in front of all the students – secrets aside, the risk to them was just too great. Instead, they would be having their own private party of sorts in a section of the school Peter and Bart had already completely sealed off. Everyone had been asked to contribute `ideas` to the event, with the emphasis being on throwing anything and everything they thought might stick, no matter how strange.
Jaune's own ideas were no less bizarre than Coco's. Probably more so in fact. There was just no telling what would catch Salem's attention. The goal was simple: convince Salem that she could have more entertainment with humanity than against it. How long could her anger hold anyway? The crimes committed by humanity thousands of years ago, no matter how heinous, must have lost some of their weight by now.
You could only stay angry so long, and it wasn't hard to imagine that her depression stemmed from that. Anger might have kept her going after her loss, the promise of vengeance acting as fuel, but after so long, even the grief at losing your own children had to have dampened. That sounded horrible, but people moved on. It might take years or decades, but wounds healed. Since Salem had been alive millennia, hers fury must have grown cold and empty.
"Very well." Glynda said to Coco. "Thank you for your assistance, Miss Adel. Run along now. We shall handle things from here."
Coco was quick to agree and rush back into the school. Sleep was a valuable commodity with the war on, and you never knew when you might be needed. With any luck, their efforts tonight would offer more chances for rest, but that was assuming the best case scenario.
"We have her on our cameras," Glynda reported. "She has circumcised the cliff and is coming up now."
"You mean circumnavigated?"
Glynda sighed. "No."
The section of cliff that contained the launch pads for initiation crumbled away suddenly, cut by some black light that sheared through solid rock and several hundred years of erosion. The hardware crashed down into the forest. They'd need to order new pads if they wanted to continue the initiation next year. Assuming there was a next year. Jaune fixed a smile on his face, forcing it over the nervous sweat he was breaking out into as Salem scaled the cliff, hauling herself up, armour gone, twigs in her hair, eyes blazing.
"JAUNE ARC!"
"Wasn't it Jaune of Arc? Ahem. Salem. Welcome. Our hospitality-" He ducked a beam of purest black energy that burnt the stone behind him. "Ahem. You do remember our deal, don't you?"
"Jaune Arc!" Salem seethed, stomping forward. Up close, he could see the little scratches and marks along her clothing, all signs of bushes, branches and stinging plants she'd trudged through. Her skin was unblemished but given her healing factor he knew she'd experienced them all. "I have spent the last two hours plotting the best way to make you scream for mercy. It has fed me. It has sustained me."
"W-We had a deal."
"My legs shattered on impact. My spine compressed down and speared out my body. My neck snapped, my head compacting into my shoulder blades and my skull popping like a grape."
Glynda gagged and Jaune leaned back, wincing.
"Before my legs could shatter, my body impacted them, driving my thigh bones up into my pelvis and puncturing my kidneys and intestines. A human would have died. I did not. I lived and experienced every second of that impact." Her hand fisted in his blue coat, hauling him forward so that he was face to face with her. "Tell me which of these sounds the most painful so that I can visit it upon you before your demise."
"We've arranged a big meal for you," he stammered.
"Is it your head baked on a silver platter?"
"…" Jaune swallowed. "No."
Angrily, Salem moved back, releasing him and taking a deep breath. It was a visible effort to control her rage, which he supposed he deserved. "Then I will have to make do with taking my vengeance out on the city. I will not have you claim I am not a woman of my word, however. You have me for the night. Make use of it well."
Okay. Maybe his clever plan for beating her hadn't been all that clever considering his overall plan of winning her over. He hadn't considered the struggle getting through the forest would be – not because of the Grimm in her case, but the rough terrain. I should have sent someone to collect her. Did she have to drag her body along until it healed?
"Well," he said weakly. "Let me be the first to apologise. It was underhanded and unfair, but you are such an impossible foe that I had no option. How else was I to have a chance beating someone as amazing as you?"
"Flattery is not the way to my good graces. I have lived with Tyrian too long for that."
Welp. There went that idea. Luckily, Glynda stepped in and offered an unopened can of soda to the eldritch abomination. "You must be thirsty. Do you know how-" Salem snapped the can open and took a drink. "Never mind. You must be hungry-"
"I do not require sustenance to survive, nor do I feel hunger."
"Can you eat…?"
"I can."
"Does it do anything for you?" Jaune asked.
"I can taste food. I can savour it."
"Awesome." The plan was still on. "Then let us away to a humble feast we have prepared in your honour, the first Queen of the Grimm to ever set foot as a guest within the halls of Be- Ozma Sucks."
/-/
Rather than run the risk of students interrupting them, they'd turned the James Ironwood wing of the school – the stolen battleship that totally wasn't a battleship – into their own private party area. A lavish room bedecked with cushions and the comfiest mattress that money could – well, the comfiest mattress that Roman could find, steal and leave an IOU note for from one of the closed and evacuated shops in the city. He'd like to have said no expenses had been spared, but no expenses had been made either.
On the food, however, Glynda had come in huge. Once she understood his crazy plan, she'd gone out among the huntsmen and asked for the best culinarily inclined huntsmen from each Kingdom to come cook several regional dishes using fresh ingredients and Beacon's excellent kitchens. The result was a huge spread, practically a feast, of meals, dishes and desserts from across Remnant. A perfect way to show the culturally diverse diets of the humans Salem so desperately wanted to destroy.
From Vacuo came heavily spiced meats and curry-coated chicken that tingled and burnt the tongue. Fresh fish and tangy fruit cooked by Kali provided a taste of Menagerie's fishing history, while hearty meat stew and broth from Atlas warmed the body and soul. Mistral's collections of cakes and sweets were a beautiful way to finish it off, while simple Valean cuisine pinned it all together.
Salem was encouraged to try it all, and Kali Belladonna proved an excellent and surprisingly calm (for dealing with a Grimm monster) host.
"Here. This is from Mistral. It pairs excellently with a crisp white wine. I believe we have a famous one from Atlas here, known for its sharp, dry taste and subtle texture. Aged forty years."
Roman and Bart had raided a specialist wine seller's shop in the city. Roman had all been for nicking it all to hear Bart's report, but the history teacher had written out a careful receipt that Jaune had only glanced at the bottom of and whimpered. Hopefully, Willow would be prepared to foot the bill, because only the SDC could afford a bottle of wine costing twelve thousand lien. A bottle that Salem sneered at, tasted, looked at much more carefully and then began to greedily chug like water.
"What is this chicken cooked with?" Salem asked.
"It's a Vacuo paste made from garlic and onion, mixed with zest from a lime, hot pepper sauce and several ounces of alcoholic spirits."
"It is refreshingly sweet." Salem's knife and fork carved through the tender bird and she helped herself to another bite, humming pleasantly before moving to the next. "And this? It's lamb. Hm."
"Atlas slow roasted honey lamb. Apparently, Atlas is famous for its meat dishes since before import and export was such a big thing, there were few places to grow vegetables there and meat was the primary dish. Hearty animals were better able to survive the harsh winters."
As she ate, a large radio nearby played out a soundtrack carefully chosen by Ozpin – though the immortal wasn't in attendance for obvious reasons. He'd promised that while he could hardly guarantee her musical tastes, the songs he'd chosen – mostly classical – were as close to the songs of his and her time as could be found today.
"You must not get much quality food living alone in the Grimmlands," Jaune said slyly. "Do you eat at all out there?"
"I cook for myself," Salem said indignantly. "Though, I will admit that my range is not as… refined as this. Simple cakes, stews and roasts are hardly beyond me. This is good, though."
"The benefit of letting someone else cook for you. There are always people who love doing things like this. They dedicate years of their lives to becoming the best cooks they can."
"Hm. It shows. It certainly does."
"Of course," he said sadly, "Those people won't be around once you win. No humans learning to cook things, creating recipes or lovely dishes like this for you to try."
Salem paused. Her eyes narrowed. "A small price to pay. I may not be as good a cook as this, but I am good enough."
"Yes, but you probably use the same ingredients, don't you?" He received no answer and pushed on. "Store bought spices and condiments brought along by Tyrian or Hazel. Not to mention kitchen appliances. Once the humans are gone, that will all run out fairly quickly."
"Animals." Salem said. "Animals will reclaim nature. Meat will not be an issue."
Maybe not, but they both knew it would involve hunting it and cooking it over an open fire unless Salem was going to personally learn metallurgy, smithing, electronics and then form her own powerplant. All quite unlikely. Jaune smiled and winked at Glynda, careful not to push too hard. It wasn't subtle anyway, but too unsubtle might annoy their guest.
"In recognition of the momentous occasion this is, I asked the teachers and staff to go out and find something to share with you. Something to show off our Kingdom and its culture to our esteemed guest."
"Oh? Gifts?"
"Indeed. After all, are you not a monarch visiting our fair home?"
"Hmm." Salem lounged back with a small plate of apple pie. "I suppose that I am. Very well. Even if we are enemies, I will sample your offerings. Bring them forth. Let me judge their worth."
Jaune stood and clapped his hands together – the signal to their… gift givers? Diplomats? Well, the signal to the teachers who had been sent on a scavenger hunt for anything Salem might like or find useful in some way. He hadn't been specific because he had no idea what she wanted, so as wide and eclectic a selection as possible was better. Knowing the oddities of his professors, that was almost a guarantee.
Oobleck came first, lugging with him a large, wood, leather and brass chest that looked like something taken straight out of a pirate movie. It was balanced precariously on a cart with wheels, and Salem leaned up in her seat, intrigued despite her best efforts to remain composed and disinterested. It must have been a long time since anyone had willingly gifted her something.
"I am Doctor Oobleck, and my gift is the most important of all: knowledge." Opening the chest up, he revealed stacks upon stacks of books wedged in tight. Well over a hundred in total. "The collected knowledge of the last century or so in numerous fields," he said proudly. "Food, medicine, science and art. Enough to keep a person busy for hundreds of years and teach them valuable new skillsets."
It was a surprisingly thoughtful gift for an immortal, Jaune thought. Given that Salem very well could, would and did have hundreds of years of isolation under her belt, giving her something to wile away the time was much better than fine food or drink. With this, Salem could make her own and occupy her time.
Apparently, Salem thought the same way. "Thank you," she said softly. "It is a very kind gift. Ahem." She coughed into her fist. "And it will give me much to read and learn once I have eradicated humankind. Next?"
"Ho Ho!" Port bellowed as he swept into the room. "I had a similar thought to my dear friend, Bartholomew. Something to entertain yourself with on those dull nights." He had a large box behind him, along with two stacked wooden crates of bottles. "Two hundred and sixty four cans of lager, a dust-powered television set and eight hundred hours' worth of boxsets of the best movies, sitcoms and shows of the last decade! Perfect for in the home or on campaign."
While everyone clapped and Salem looked over some of the boxsets inquisitively, Port leaned in to whisper in Jaune's ear. "I left the final episodes of the most gripping series out. If she wants more, she'll need to come back and buy them. Some are unfinished, too, and won't be unless she doesn't destroy us all."
Cruel. Cruel but cunning. Or cunningly cruel. Jaune gave the man a solid thumbs up behind Salem's back. Given the weight of the gifts combined, Glynda told Salem she would arrange for transport assuming a promise of safe return was given to the Bullhead pilots.
"It shall be permitted. Such gifts are given in good faith. I shall not spit on that."
"And there are more!" Roman said, swaying into the room with Neo behind, grinning madly. That instantly set Jaune to sweating, even before Roman approached and brought out a remarkably small wooden box, the kind you might use to deliver artisan chocolates in.
Inside were numerous odd objects. A silver container Jaune recognised instantly as the same one Roman used for his cigars – likely containing the same. A small lighter beside it. The other packets were clear and contained white powder, bright pills and several strips of paper Jaune did not recognise but was sure he knew of by name.
"Personally liberated from several criminal hideouts across the city, Neo and I present you with this," Roman waxed with a charismatic smile. "The finest drug and narcotics platter the city has to offer. Tobacco, weed, ecstasy, LSD, heroin and more. All clean and locally sourced."
"Thank you." Salem said magnanimously, accepting the gift while everyone else's jaws were busy hanging around their chests. Glynda made choking sounds as Salem picked up a packet of white powder and tilted her head, clearly confused as to what it was.
"I can show you how to use it later if you like," Roman offered.
"Later!" Jaune clamoured, hopping up and all but tackling Roman away. "Keep the gifts going! Don't mind us! Just having a quick word!" Yanking the unrepentant thief around the corner, Jaune all but shrieked, "What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to get us killed!?"
"Me? Perish the thought."
"Roman! Class-A Drugs!"
"Not all of them. Okay, most of them. Kid, she's immortal. Immortal. And immoral. Heck, they're only a letter apart." He looked far too pleased with himself. "It's not like she can OD, and weren't you yourself saying she was bored and wanted to try new things? No two trips are the same or so I've heard. Never dabbled in the hard stuff myself."
"I didn't mean getting high!"
"Eh." Roman shrugged. "It's a new experience."
"And if she gets addicted?"
"Who is going to make her more? Oh right, humans! Salem addicted; humanity left to live as long as it provides a steady stream of meth; high as a kite Grimm stumbling and vaping across the countryside." Roman made little guns with his fingers and clicked his teeth. "Problem solved. C'mon. I'm a genius. Tell me I'm a genius."
"You're an idiot!"
"A misunderstood genius, then. Close enough." He hooked an arm around Jaune's shoulder. "Besides, it's fine. She doesn't even know what that stuff is, and that's the only way she would have been offended. The whole point of this is to try everything and see what sticks. Who knows? Maybe it'll be hard drugs."
Gah. Roman was such a tool. Pushing away, Jaune rushed back into the room before anything else could happen behind his back. Too late. He arrived in time to see Glynda with her head in her hands and Tsune, smiling widely, handing over a long, pink sex toy and a black, leather outfit made predominantly of straps, leather buckles and a big, red ball gag.
"For those nights where movies and books just aren't scratching that itch deep inside." The fox faunus winked and wagged her tail. "If you know what I mean."
"Ahem." Salem's cheeks were just a little pink. "I do. Thank you."
These are the responsible adults I wanted to teach me, Jaune thought. These are the people society trusts their children to. Heaven help us all. At least General Ironwood wasn't here. He dreaded to imagine what the man might give, or whether Tsune would have pulled him aside and asked him to program one of his automated killer robots into something with a thrusting motion.
"Our final gift is from the students." Glynda said with a fair amount of defeat in her voice. "Specifically, it was organised by one of our students, Coco Adel, based on what she believes you… might enjoy…" There was a long moment where the stern deputy had to gather herself. "It will take the form of the after dinner entertainment." She clapped her hands. "You may come in now."
Three men entered. Taiyang Xiao-Long, Qrow Branwen and Clover Ebi.
There hadn't been a great amount of volunteers.
"Oh?" Salem asked. "And what are these to be? Jesters? Performers?"
"Of a sort." Glynda said glumly, killing most of the lights in the room and nodding to Kali. The faunus gave a thumbs up and flicked the switch on the radio, turning the music from something classical to a heavy beat far more suited for a certain kind of adult club.
Taiyang moved his hips from side to side, a confident grin taking over his face as he reached up for his buttons. Salem's eyebrows rose, her posture suddenly a lot less bored. The huntsman's shirt hit the floor around the same time Glynda's face met her hands, the teacher banging her hand on the table and lamenting that Beacon had never sunk so low.
When needs must, Jaune thought with his own despair, looking away as Qrow and Clover played side dancers to Taiyang's show. Also, I can't believe he knows how to strip and pole dance. I wonder if Yang and Ruby have any idea just how much of a kinky bitch their mom was.
Coco had come through with the only thing she could based on their limited information. That Salem was bored, had been married once and so must have at least once been into men, and had shown interest in Nicholas.
That was it. It wasn't much to go on, but when it was all they gave her, this was all she could come up with. He wasn't sure who was more embarrassed when she proposed it – them or her. Either way, there hadn't been much else. The fate of the world could well depend on it, and Taiyang was prepared to do anything to defend his home.
Or, as Qrow put it, score another notch on the blue-eyed, blond bastard's belt.
Kali, Tsune and Salem were soon clapping in tandem, hooting and cheering as Taiyang swung his shirt above his head, clenching and unclenching his toned stomach in a way that would have had Sun Wukong taking notes.
Even Neo was tilting her head to the side. He swatted her and got a roll of the eyes before she looked down at his stomach.
Jaune crossed his arms jealously. "I could do that, too. I just don't want to."
Neo's eyebrows rose. With a patronising smile, she petted his arm and climbed into his lap, letting him hold her as she went back to watching Taiyang strip.
Stupid Taiyang being too sexy for his own good.
He was so telling Ruby and Yang.
/-/
"Seek where the floor touches the sky." Ruby mumbled the clue to herself as she walked through Salem's tower with a packet of cookies she'd begged Yang into baking in the Grimm Queen's kitchen. In the distance, she could hear the Grimm outside growling and howling, but far closer she could hear Yang blowing up more rooms, having long since decided that the riddle was `bullshit` and that she'd go back to tearing the place to the ground.
Cinder had evidently agreed and was doing the same, though her reasoning was more along the lines of refusing to play Tyrian's game. That was fine, though. There was probably too much risk in them all trying to solve the riddle, especially if it was a wild goose chase or they couldn't do it. Her, Weiss and Blake were trying, even while still looking, and that would hopefully be enough.
"Where the floor touches the sky. Floor and sky. Ugh." Riddles had never been her strong suit. Not unless they were simple ones. Weiss' first idea had been the landing pad outside – citing that it was where Salem or her minions would quite literally step from the floor into the sky via the use of a Nevermore or Bullhead.
Ruby had thought that pretty clever and rushed to look with her. Sadly, and despite a lot of looking, the landing pad was empty. They'd even had Weiss and Blake hold Gambol Shroud while Ruby hung off the edge on one of the ribbons, searching the outer edge of the landing pad in case Tyrian had hidden it underneath somehow. Nothing. The sword was nowhere to be seen.
Weiss hadn't been best pleased, even if it had been a pretty good guess on her part. She and Blake had gone off to butt heads over a dinner table while Ruby wandered in the hope she might see something that would make inspiration strike. So far, that wasn't working out.
"Floor touches sky. Floor and sky. The sky is up, and the floor is down. Would a mountain count?" Probably. But then so should the landing pad, or just the ground itself! If the sky was `everything not on the ground` then technically all floors touched the sky. Except maybe those buried underground. Basements and the like. Just in case, she checked every balcony she could find in the tower. Those were a little higher up, so she figured they might count.
Apparently not.
The balconies – or those she could find – where almost all empty. A sword would stand out pretty well, she thought, and she'd even looked up from the lower levels using her sniper scope to see if the sword was strapped to the underside of a balcony. It wasn't. Worse, it had started raining heavily outside, long sheets of rain scything down and assailing the tower at a diagonal angle, splashing on the west side and leaving the stone floor treacherous. Stood out in the rain with her hood up, she watched as a small balloon-like shape in the distance slowly became a spec of black and then disappeared.
Ruby sighed out loud. "Good luck, Drei. May you find a home someday."
A crack of thunder made her jump, especially when it boomed down above her head, striking the tower. Semblance activated, she darted back inside, only to slowly come back out onto the balcony once she realised it hadn't hit her. It had definitely struck the tower, though.
"Wow. I guess this is the only place for hundreds of miles that sticks up like this." As if summoned by that comment, another bolt of lightning cracked down, bathing the world in white light and sending out a thundering rumble and crackle that was almost deafening. "Good job Zwei isn't here or he'd be barking like mad."
Salem's tower stuck up like a lightning rod, drawing a few more cracks of lightning and illuminating the landscape like a lighthouse. It must have been steel-tipped to do just that. The Grimm below didn't seem to mind. They milled about, likely sensing them inside but knowing they weren't allowed to enter the tower.
Whatever commands Salem had put on them were so strong that they wouldn't dare enter even when she wasn't around. Only the Seers did, floating down corridors, cleaning up and constantly aggravating Blake. They hated Blake for some reason, always poking her, trying to clean her up and sometimes even waking her up floating all tentacle like above her bed, making her scream shrilly until all of Team RWBY would rush in to see her trying to strangle a Grimm jellyfish shouting about how no tentacle monster was getting anywhere near her.
According to Cinder, it was because Blake looked similar to her. Some inside joke of the tower, or maybe just Salem's anger at Cinder's betrayal causing her to order all Grimm to hate her. The Seers would go after Cinder, too, but their eyesight apparently wasn't the best and Blake looked close enough.
They were still cute. Ruby wondered if she couldn't tie a bunch together and make a floating bed to coast around on. Sadly, she had a feeling trying to smuggle any back to Beacon would be like introducing Zwei to the team for the second time. Blake had only just accepted him in their room, and certainly wasn't going to trust a version of Zwei that could float up to the upper bunk.
Thunder crackled and boomed its way across the sky again, several loud rumbles before lightning arched down and struck the tower's tip with a fearsome crash. Once it was clear it wasn't going to hit her, Ruby stood out in the rain with her eyes closed, enjoying the way her breath misted and how warm she felt under her red cloak.
A rare bolt of lightning came down further away, arching down from the sky in a jagged white line to touch the ground in the distance. It was amazing how she could see it for a full few seconds before the rumbling crack reached her ears. Another struck far away, creating a line between the sky and the ground.
Touching the ground.
The sky touching the ground.
"Lightning!" Ruby shrieked, seconds before the heavens answered and crackled down, striking the tip of the tower once more.
A tip that must have been metal to draw the lightning with such regularity.
Metal tip? Lightning rod?
Throwing caution to the wind, Ruby scrambled out onto the balcony's railing, crouching low and keeping Crescent Rose's blade hooked around one of the railings before leaning out in a way that would have had her sister screaming in fury. The angle let her see just beyond the precipice of the roof, however. Just up toward the silhouetted peak of Salem's tower. It was too dark to make out anything, but she clung on doggedly, muscles straining as she waited.
The sky answered, piercing down white light that struck the tip and illuminated it for the briefest of instances. A long, double-edged piece of metal with an ornate golden hilt, strapped or secured to the highest point of the tower, right on its tip, where the sky would reach down to touch the tower. Or, if you were standing on the roof, the floor.
"Found you."
Good job, Ruby. Riddles aren't my strong suit either, hence the relatively tame one here. Neither is stripping. I did lose a bet once and have to perform a striptease for a female friend of mine, and no, it didn't lead to sex or a relationship.
The irony is that she was a confirmed lesbian and the only reason I made the bet was because she liked this girl that I personally knew liked her back, and I bet her that if she confessed to said girl, I'd do an embarrassing forfeit. She knuckled down and asked her out, getting her girlfriend. I was proud of her, but even though she figured out I'd done it to help her, she decided a forfeit was a forfeit. Cheeky bitch. I wasn't too angry. They were stupid into one another and it was driving me and everyone else insane.
I still remember one of the weirdest things she said: "I know I'm in love with her because she took her shoes off and I thought her feet looked cute. Her feet! Feet are horrible! They're disgusting! I hate feet! And I thought hers were cute! I thought I'd actually lick them if she asked me to, and I'd like it."
Well… I mean… if you can appreciate a person's feet, then maybe it IS true love.
Next Chapter: 19th November
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur
