Ozpin gazed upon the remnants of a village long since burned to the ground with his gold ocular orbs, glancing at the black ashened remains of buildings and arched gates. He didn't stare too long, seeing as how he and Glynda would be nearing the estimated destination of their journey, opting to instead turn his gaze towards a sign they had just passed. "Kuroyuri," it read. From what he understood it was a small daughter village that had spawned from the much wealthier Oniyuri, a complex meant to house the rich and wealthy, but ultimately failed due to Kuroyuri's aforementioned demise.. The former had unfortunately fallen to severe Grimm assaults some 12 or 10 years ago. Most of the inhabitants from both villages died, and those that survived spent the remainder of their lives in poverty or, in more extreme cases, a mental ward. There was an attempt made to restart the settlements, but most plans never left the drawing board for one reason or another. Needless to say, no one was willing or capable of rebuilding the two cities, or maybe it was that no one wanted to.
Hearing a sigh of boredom from his right, he glanced towards the blonde woman beside him as she rested her cheek on her fist, the driver in front of them steered the horse around the corner, leaving the ruins of Kuroyuri behind them. It wasn't hard to understand her apparent boredom. Mostly dead forestry stood stiffly on both sides of the road they were on, a gray sky loomed overhead and made sunlight somewhat scarce. A slow, uneven breeze made sleep somewhat difficult. They'd been on this trip for the past 4 or some hours. But even with that knowledge, teasing her was fun. She was...somewhat easy to rile up. At the very least, it'd give them something to keep their minds busy.
Ozpin grinned knowingly. "Is something the matter, Glynda?" His tone was almost mischievous. Almost.
Beacon's resident combat instructor and headmaster's aide huffed and readjusted her titled glasses before releasing another exasperated sigh at him. "Don't patronize me Ozpin, you know exactly what's wrong."
"Humor me," Beacon's headmaster responded. She was fun to tease at times.
She rolled her eyes before reciting the same argument she used in previous conversations these past hours. "Vale is one of the most technologically advanced nations in the world, behind Atlas. We've built ships that can carry hundreds if not thousands of people at a time, can communicate more than halfway across the world, and fight off giant monsters using weapons our ancestors could only dream of."
"Your point?" Ozpin asked.
"Why are we riding in a donkey drawn carriage of all things in this golden age of progress? I could literally walk faster than this animal could even breathe. No offense, Mr. Xiao."
The elderly driver shook his head. "None taken, Ms. Goodwitch." He patted the back of the donkey and laughed somewhat heartily. "Old Barnaby's heard worse."
Glynda turned towards Ozpin expectantly. "Well?"
Ozpin smiled. "Let's just day I'm capitalizing on an agreement made some years ago."
Glynda eyes him suspiciously. 'A new student maybe?' She thought.
She knew Ozpin liked handpicking certain students he saw potential in. Some were relatively simple to understand his reasonings, like the recent invitation for a young silver eyed girl. She clearly pulled her own weight in a past incident and she was the daughter of a Beacon graduate, Summer Rose. The silver eyes were also a plus, but admittedly that was more founded in superstition than any tangible merit.
Other decisions were...difficult to grasp, to say the least. But she supposed that if there was nothing good to say about someone, don't say it. At least, that's what her mother told her. She was so lost in thought that she barely registered the side conversations Ozpin was having with Mr. Xiao, something about folklore regarding demons and humming in the woods.
Eventually, Ozpin had the driver stop the carriage at a forest entrance, the only visible next step to Ozpin's and Glynda's journey being a small dirt path that led into the forest. Evidently, no one had been here for quite some time, as autumnal leaves were still present and the local vegetation had overgrown to a large degree. The dirt path was barely even noticeable.
The leaves crunched under Ozpin's foot, giving him an almost nostalgic feeling as he remembered the events prior to this upcoming encounter. 'Three years now?' he thought to himself. 'Time really does pass by.'
The pair from Beacon Academy continued their trek for another 3 hours or so, occasionally stopping to allow Ozpin to survey the path ahead and to rest. They eventually reached a small clearing that gave way to a low hill. Ozpin's eyes lit up in recognition, before his mouth muttered a quiet, "We're here."
In front of them was a small hut composed of gray stone bricks. The hut itself was evidently aged, given the growth of moss covering the hut's roof and walls, and yet Glynda could see beams of light slipping through the cracks of the wooden door, flickering and waving as if there were a fire burning on the hut's inside. Perhaps there was.
Ozpin's hand formed a fist and clearly intended to knock on the door, but he hesitated for a moment. His decision was taken away from him as the door opened itself anyway, revealing the person behind it. Glynda could barely make out what they looked like Piercing blue eyes met shining gold ones, as Ozpin and the homeowner stared at each other. The silence between the two was thick and oppressive, neither person making any move to approach the other. Finally, the person before them spoke in a somewhat jaded voice as he sighed exasperatedly. "You know, it's customary to notify your hosts ahead of time before coming for a visit."
Ozpin's lips curled upwards into a grin. "Who said we were staying?"
The other person scoffed. "Don't take me for a fool Ozpin. The last thing I need right now is a guilty conscience."
He gestured for the two to enter the hut. "Well? Hurry up, the fire won't burn forever."
x/x/x
The insides of the hut were rather modest and almost bare, with crudely made wooden stools surrounding a makeshift fire pit in the center of the hut. A table of similar build quality stood to the side next to an antique closet. Given how dirty the feet were, it must've not been here originally. The air stank of smoke from wet logs, presumably damp from the rain a few days ago. At least, that's what she assumed given the weather forecast she listened to during the trip. Thankfully the smoke wafted upwards to a small chimney opening in the ceiling.
The fire flickered and whipped around softly, illuminating the stone walls behind them. Glynda finally had a clearer view of who Ozpin was talking to, the orange hazy light of the fire casting shadows behind her.
Their host was a semi-muscular adolescent male, considerably taller than Ozpin,with long flowing white hair that stopped around the middle of his back. Admittedly, it could easily have been mistaken for that of a Schnee. A scar adorned his forehead, running across horizontally. Two hazel eyes peered at her and Ozpin. The (presumably) teenager wore ragged clothing, clear and obvious patches littering his shirt like beggars at a street corner, with wooden sandals underneath his feet. He turned his attention towards the fire, gazing at it before reaching for a skinny object on a small table beside him: a smoking pipe. Glynda immediately wrinkled her nose in disgust. 'Really?' She thought to herself. 'At his age no less?'
After blowing some smoke (literally), the teenager sighed exasperatedly and looked at Ozpin. "You know, it's becoming annoying how damn persistent you are, old man."
Ozpin merely curled his lips upward in a closed lip smile. "Well, I try my best."
The teenager glared at him in response. "Your efforts have been duly noted. Now take your business somewhere else. I want you gone by morning."
"While I would love to go somewhere...admittedly more comfortable," Ozpin quipped, poking the fire with the end of his cane, "I do believe we made an agreement some years ago. I've come to...capitalize on that, if you would."
It was then that Glynda spoke up. "Ozpin, what's going on exactly?"
Their host looked up, taking another breath from his smoking pipe before exhaling and setting it aside. "I don't believe we've met. You are…?"
"Glynda Goodwitch, combat instructor of Beacon Academy. And you might be?"
"Kazan Yamaoka, former heir to the Yamaoka clan," Glynda's host replied. His lips curled slightly in an almost unnoticeable, sly grin. "Consider yourself fortunate, Ms. Goodwitch. You're looking at the last of the Yamaoka bloodline. I'm...technically living history."