Chapter Eight: White Lie, Dark Truth
Beacon Academy… Ozpin's Office…
Ozpin watched sadly as Glynda left his office. It had been clear enough that her mind was no longer on Oscar – at least, not directly. The news about Oscar's theory had hit her hard – not surprising, considering his own reaction to it – but he rather suspected that it was how calm he'd been when talking about his impending death that had hit her harder than anything.
Being the one to break bad news to someone wasn't an easy task. It took empathy and compassion to do it in a way that would – in the long term – lead towards healing, rather than despair. But at the same time, he didn't see a reason to sugarcoat something that was so important in this case. He couldn't help the way that he tended to view concepts like life and death any longer – he'd lived too many lives and died too many times to view them with the same innocence that someone like Glynda did. He understood where she was coming from, of course, why his calm attitude would be so upsetting to her, but this was one time where his viewpoint and hers wouldn't be compatible and trying to explain it would only make the situation worse. He could only lay out the facts as he knew them and allow her to come to her own acceptance on things, as long as she abided by his wishes and kept the news to herself until he was ready to tell the rest of their group.
He had some decisions of his own to wrestle with – and not just any decision. It was quite possible that these decisions would be some of the most important he'd ever made. He still had to decide if he could trust Oscar, as well as trust what the boy was saying. It went against everything he had ever experienced, and yet it was the only theory that had been proposed that resolved all of the contradictions and logical conundrums that the boy's arrival in his office had created.
If Oscar had come from the past, then it hadn't been Ozpin who had shielded him with his magic, but it had been the Oz of the future, the one Oscar had been in the process of merging with – so, in a sense, it was Ozpin which was why the magic traces had resonated with him. The black lightning had no doubt been Salem's attempt to stop Oscar from escaping her clutches, brought along with boy during the brief period while he had been transitioning back to the current timeline, away from what he knew. How that could have happened, he still didn't have an explanation for and that wasn't as important, but at least he could understand why the strange attack had happened.
Even more importantly, it would explain the attacks on the Academies that Oscar was so certain had happened. They had happened, just not yet. They were still yet to come in this timeline, which meant there was a chance to stop them, to thwart Salem before the horrors that Oscar had lived through came to pass again. He had always expected that the Academies would eventually come under assault, although he hadn't expected it to be this soon, if Oscar's information was correct. It would take time for Salem to mobilize the kinds of forces needed to attempt to take the Academies by force, and his agents had seen no sign of any such movement, so either she hadn't yet devised this plan, or she was going to do something besides brute force – and yet, Oscar had spoken of an attack strong enough to tear down Beacon Tower, a battle at Haven, and an army of Grimm at Atlas.
It would also explain the boy's anger and mistrust since, as he had told Glynda, being like-minded didn't guarantee instant compatibility. The opposite was more likely to be true because they were just as likely to share the same personality traits – stubbornness being only one of them. Brothers only knew how much he had resisted having this destiny thrust upon him all those years ago, during his third year at Beacon, when Oz had first spoken to him. He, like the others before him, had come to accept it over time, but it was clear that – perhaps due to his age, perhaps due to the things he had already seen – Oscar was still right in the middle of the merge and hadn't fully reached acceptance yet. It was a process after all, and much like grief, took time to run its course.
But what the boy had gone through – if it was all true – made him burn with righteous anger towards the Brothers. Bad enough that adults were randomly pulled into his curse without consent when he bonded with them – but a child? Why would they do such a thing to Oscar? Children had no part in his war with Salem, as far as he was concerned. Yes, she'd tried to use children against him in the past – she had fewer scruples about using whatever weapon or tactic was at hand – and the hypocrisy burned almost as much as his anger towards the Brothers did. She still viewed his attempt to protect their daughters by taking them away in the night as his final betrayal, back in his first incarnation, and never failed to bring it up when they happened to come face-to-face, even though he was not the one who had struck the killing blow. But her faux grief over their daughters' deaths didn't stop her from utilizing children if it suited her purposes.
He sighed and leaned back in his chair. This sort of news wasn't something that anyone could expect to accept immediately. He would need to give Glynda time to accept. Regardless of whether or not Oscar's story was true, his reaction to it and his lack of reaction to the possibility that he might die soon would have shaken her just as much if not more than the idea of time travel.
I'm sorry, Glynda. Yet again, he was causing pain to someone he cared about.
His eyes fell again on the stack of graded essays on his desk. The Indecisive King… a fairy tale once again inspired by one of his past lives. In that lifetime, one where he had seemed poised to make real progress in his mission for the God of Light, it had been Knowledge and Choice – two of the Brothers' gifts that he valued most – which had nearly crippled him, not any machinations of Salem. In that lifetime, it had been his wife who had pulled him through one of his darkest moments when everything had seemed to once again be crumbling around him.
Glynda was not, nor would she ever be, his wife – but just as his queen had been in that lifetime, she was a good friend and a trusted advisor. Causing her pain only served to hurt him just as much. And, ironically enough, he was once again faced with a conundrum involving knowledge and choice.
Oscar's presence would provide knowledge on what was to come. A chance to thwart Salem, push for the era of peace that had been built in the wake of the Great War to continue. But in order to make that happen, he would have to choose whether or not to trust the boy, and to trust in what he had to say, with the knowledge that if he acted on Oscar's warnings, at some point everything would change, and Oscar's foreknowledge would no longer be useful. Acting on his knowledge could change things for the better, but it could also change them for the worse.
After all, there had to be a reason why he'd never known who his next incarnation would be ahead of time.
"Live your life, and trust in yourself to make the right decision when the moment comes, with all the information you have at hand. Or allow yourself to make the wrong decision, comforted in the knowledge that you tried your very best. In either case, the future is one of your own making."
His queen's advice still resonated with him, even to this day, and was the reason that he included that particular story in the textbook when he'd been developing the curriculum for his first and second years. They were wise words and he had tried to live by them in each lifetime since.
"Not all outcomes are favorable, My Grace."
He knew that better than anyone. "Trust in yourself to make the right decision," he murmured, his gaze flicking between the essays and the spot on his floor where Oscar had appeared. It was still a hard decision to make, when so much depended on him making the right one.
Beacon Courtyard…
Glynda left Beacon Tower and crossed the courtyard in front of it, her feet and long habit taking her by rote in the direction of the main classroom buildings and dorms. For once, however, her mind wasn't on the next task on her never-ending to-do list. Instead it was focused on the man she had left in his office at the top of the Tower, with sad brown eyes gazing at her from behind shaded lenses and a sweep of silver hair.
"I don't have much time left." That sad, solemn look crossing his face as he spoke. "The same thought occurred to me last night when I was thinking through everything Oscar said."
She didn't understand how he could be so calm, so blasé about that statement. He might be Oz, the powerful, ancient wizard who had been fighting to protect Remnant for millennia… but he was also Ozpin, the quiet academic she had met her first week at Beacon Academy all those years ago.
Glynda resisted the urge to run her hands through her head. It wouldn't give the right appearance for a team leader if she looked frazzled or frustrated. But it was also so infuriating! Beacon was a larger campus than Pharos, true, but surely it couldn't be that hard to navigate! It wasn't like the campus was in the middle of the city, after all – it was isolated across the bay and self-contained. Everything that a Beacon student needed was here!
"Hello. Are you lost?"
Glynda turned and pushed a blonde curl out of her eyes – the only sign of her frustration that she would allow herself, preparing to reply that she was not lost, thank you very much – only to pause when she saw the one who had addressed her. It was a young man – perhaps a year or two older than she was. He wore the standard Beacon uniform, and had a leather-bound book tucked under one arm. His silver hair was artfully unruly, falling in a wave just over his brown eyes, which were peering at her from over the top of tiny, dark-tinted lenses that were perched on the tip of his nose.
She had always prided herself on her efficiency and sense of direction – both physically and where her life goals were concerned. She was going to be a Huntress. She had no doubt about that, and it was not in question. Top of her class at Pharos, she'd known right from the very beginning that Beacon was the school she was going to apply to, and she would get in. It was the only outcome she would accept in her life, so she trained and practiced, honed her fighting skills and Semblance, excelled in all her classwork – all of it designed to provide the best possible application in her final year at Pharos.
She had succeeded but being at Beacon was already so different from being at Pharos. Yes, many of her classmates were here as well, but there were dozens of other students from all of the other combat schools across all of the Kingdoms – and her somewhat ruthless efficiency and sense of purpose was making it difficult to connect with her new teammates – something that she would need to rectify and soon, if she was going to be the type of team leader she aspired to. It was a heady responsibility, but she had never been one to shirk her duties or give anything other than her absolute best.
So it would be more than a little embarrassing to admit that she was lost, and she wasn't about to. She was going to be the top of her class again and she was not going to give an upperclassman a bad first impression of her.
"It's alright," the older boy said, his voice and eyes warm. "It happens to everyone at least once. Where are you heading?"
She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering if she could trust his apparent sincerity. She didn't know him and the last thing she wanted was for him to spread a rumor that he'd found her and had to give her directions to a common location on campus! The embarrassment would be… she shuddered internally just thinking about it.
"I'm fine, thank you," she said, a trifle curtly, hoping he would leave her alone. It was the end of classes for the day, so it wasn't like she was late for a class. She had plenty of time to re-orient herself before dinner started.
He didn't appear to be put off by her tone – rather, the warmth in his eyes deepened into amused patience. "Your secret is safe with me, I promise. I know Beacon is a lot larger than the combat schools. The fact that you can see the Tower from anywhere on campus, and it looks the same from every angle makes it easy to lose your sense of direction, so it's easy to get turned around. Headmaster Moyen throws a lot of information at the new first years during orientation."
Still uncertain as to his motives, and hoping that she wouldn't come to regret this, she finally nodded. "I'm looking for the student armory and weapon forges." There were signs posted around the campus, but following them seemed to just lead her in a circle, which had brought her to the point she now found herself in.
While her weapon – The Disciplinarian – didn't need much work done to it, she wanted to pick up some new leather straps to rewrap the handle, as well as some leather conditioner and sealant. One of the things she'd learned during orientation was that Beacon supplied their students with any parts or equipment needed to maintain and repair their weapons during the time they were enrolled. After graduation, Huntsmen and Huntresses could pay a very nominal fee for the same service, rather than have to rely on trying to find a shop that may or may not have exactly what they needed.
An amused smile to match his tone flickered across his lips for a moment. "Of course – it's one of the least apparent locations on campus. They really need to label the signs better. You know where the main classroom building is, right?" At her nod, he continued. "Two buildings east of that, towards Beacon Cliff, is a brick building with a dome roof and large, arched windows. The student armory and forges are in the basement."
She frowned, trying to place the location he described on her mental map of the campus. "The same building where the practice sparring rings are?"
He nodded. "Exactly. I'm heading that way myself to meet one of my teammates for a practice match if you'd like to come with me. I can show you the shortcuts."
Again, she hesitated, but decided there was no harm in it. "Thank you." She offered her hand. "I'm Glynda Goodwitch of Team GREY."
He took her hand with his free one that wasn't holding his book. "Ozpin, of Team ONYX. I'm starting my third year. It's a pleasure to meet you, Glynda." He indicated the pathway in front of him. "Shall we?"
She nodded and followed him. Less than five minutes later, he was leading her to a side entrance of the building in question. From here, she could see the brick ventilation pips from the forges which had been hidden by the building, since the fire Dust would burn cleanly, without any sort of thick black smoke that would have given her an indication of where she should have been going.
"If you go down through here," he said, "take your first right and you'll find the door leading into the armory. Just tell Professor Berberis what you need and show him your weapon so he can log in the school records. That way, whenever you need something, he can make sure that he always has exactly what you need on hand."
"Thank you," she said again.
"If you have any other questions, just ask. I'm always happy to help."
"I may take you up on that offer," she said with a smile, something about the older boy ringing of sincerity and trustworthiness.
It had been the start of a wonderful friendship, despite their age difference. When he'd graduated two years later, as she'd been finishing her second year, she'd already known that he would do amazing things for Remnant. He'd always been someone good to talk to for advice, especially when it came to being a team leader, or some of the classes and other professors. During her first year, he'd been kind, with a hint of a mischievous side that often manifested in harmless pranks directed at the other upperclassmen. He was careful never to prank anyone younger than he was, not wanting to damage their sense of self-confidence. But by the mid-way point of his fourth year, she'd begun to notice him changing – become more somber, more distant. She had thought it was the looming pressure of final exams and graduation, although she couldn't figure out why he'd be worried about that, since he was at the top of his class.
It had surprised her when – at the beginning of the second semester during his final year, he had completely changed his weapon from a rapier to an ornate, silver-handled walking stick. She couldn't fathom why the sudden change, and even the professors had questioned his choice. But he'd stubbornly held to the decision, and if anything, his fighting had become even more proficient once he'd adopted the cane as his weapon – a cane she now knew to be Long Memory.
At the time, she'd had no idea what was going on, of course, but looking back with the benefit of hindsight, she could see the indicators of when her friend had inherited the curse of reincarnation from Oz's previous partner and begun to realize and accept the gravity of what he faced.
When Headmaster Moyen – who was still in his late middle age and perfectly capable of remaining Headmaster for many years – unexpectedly announced his pending retirement a few years later, it had caused a stir on the campus and among the Vale Huntsmen and Huntresses, as well as the Kingdom as a whole. But when he'd named Ozpin as his chosen successor it had caused an uproar. Despite all the opposition, all the questions, Headmaster Moyen had stuck to his decision and managed to get it past the rest of the Council, causing Ozpin to be named Headmaster of Beacon just before his twenty-sixth birthday.
He'd faced a lot of opposition in the first five years, even with Moyen's support and the help of the then-current Deputy Headmaster, who had expressed absolutely no desire to ascend to the position of Headmaster and indicated his contentment with serving as Deputy to Ozpin. But once he had also resigned, five years after Ozpin had taken the reins at Beacon, she had been more than a little surprised when her friend reached out to her to fill the position of Deputy Headmistress and Head Combat Instructor. In any event, the decision had been obvious.
She'd been amused to discover – upon returning to Beacon to take up her new position – that he had changed the directional signs on campus to make it clearer where everything was located. At least, she assumed it had been Ozpin's doing, since the signs hadn't changed until after she had graduated.
He'd been her friend for so long… they'd worked together for nearly two decades at this point, and she had been the second member of the current inner circle to be inducted, as the previous Headmasters retired and their positions were filled, since Theodore had already been in the position of Headmaster when Ozpin took over, and had been inducted during Oz's previous incarnation, just before his death in that lifetime. The idea of losing him didn't sit well with her.
Yes, she knew he would reincarnate again – into Oscar apparently, if the boy was right – but… how could anyone face the prospect of death so calmly as if it was just another moment in his daily life?
"I've died before, Glynda. More times than I care to remember most days. I don't fear death anymore. I may not actively seek it or welcome it, but I don't fear it."
That sort of reasoning was beyond her comprehension. Remnant was a dangerous place and death was an all-too real possibility that Huntsmen and Huntresses faced every day, every time they went into battle against a Grimm. While they had their Aura and their Semblances to protect themselves, accidents and miscalculations could still happen. It was less of a threat for someone like her, who served as a teacher rather than a front-line fighter most of the time, but even she led training missions from time to time and the possibility was just as real for her as it was for someone like Qrow.
The common folk of Remnant – especially those who chose to live beyond the safety of Kingdom walls – also faced the possibility of death every day, since the Grimm could attack at any time. And other threats existed as well – terrible storms, accidents, bandits…
Other than Ozpin, she could honestly say that she had never met anyone who didn't fear death at least a little bit. Those that pretended not to – the reckless ones or the ones who graduated from the Academy with a heightened sense of overconfidence – generally didn't last long once they started taking official missions.
She paused beside a large oak tree planted just along the pathway between the Tower and the main classroom building, placing her hand against the bark, closing her eyes, and taking a deep breath, grateful that it was still early, and the campus was mostly quiet. She didn't want anyone to see her so shaken. While she may not be quite as prideful and stubborn now as she had been that first week at Beacon all those years ago, she did still have a reputation to maintain amongst the students and staff if she wanted to keep their respect.
She didn't want to face the possibility of losing Ozpin, even knowing that he would come back. He so rarely spoke of his past lives and his ability to reincarnate – curse though it may be – that it was sometimes easy to forget that fact. And while his soul would return from whatever lay beyond death, it wouldn't be the same thing to speak to him while looking at Oscar or whomever his next incarnation would be. Ozpin was… Ozpin. Not because he was an ancient wizard, or the leader of their inner circle, or the one standing between Salem and the destruction of Remnant, but because he was her friend – and she didn't want to lose that friend.
So don't.
The thought hovered at the edge of her consciousness, more in passing at first, but as she turned back to look at Beacon Tower, and her eyes drifted up towards the office at the top, her resolve firmed. If Oscar was telling the truth – and that would be for Ozpin to determine, ultimately, since he knew the most about his curse and his reincarnations – and if this wasn't some elaborate ploy of Salem's to try to lead them into a false sense of security as James had suggested, then Oscar's presence gave them an incredible advantage. Perhaps even a chance to change Ozpin's fate and save her friend.
It would, no doubt, take all of the inner circle pulling together, which would mean being united in more than just their loyalty to Ozpin and their resolve to fight Salem. Personality conflicts and any grudges would have to be set aside and they would all have to be on the same page. Whatever mental preparations Ozpin was making to prepare for a potentially early death – well, they would have to see to it that those preparations were unnecessary.
She was certain that all of their group would be with her once they were alerted to the danger. They were Ozpin's lieutenants, after all. He'd chosen them for a reason, and he'd stood beside them once he was convinced they were the right choices, no matter what challenges had been placed in their path. It was past time that they did the same thing for him. Ozpin had asked her not to say anything to the others, and she would honor his request, but sooner or later he would alert the others to the danger, and that was when they could begin formulating their own plans.
She took a deep breath and straightened her posture. There was still a great deal to do – teachers to brief on the increased security, plans to draft on how to implement the increased security among the students, classes to teach…
Life didn't stop just because a boy who may or may not be the next incarnation of the Headmaster dropped into said Headmaster's office with a wild story about coming from the future, after all. Ozpin relied on her as his second in command for a reason, after all.
Let's see… the class rankings have been posted… next is to check with the local Huntsmen about acquiring some more live Grimm for the students to practice with during their Grimm Studies classes. Peter wanted a live Beowulf and a Creep if we can secure one…
Argus Military Base… Kingdom of Mistral… Anima…
Winter stood waiting near the exit to her ship as the crew brought it in for a landing at the Argus airfield. They'd already signaled a request to land and been granted clearance. The controller had indicated that the base commander, Commander Caroline Cordovin, would be waiting to meet her once the landing procedures had been completed. It was not a meeting that Winter was looking forward to, and she was eager to get what the General had requested from her so that she could move on to the next base on her list, in Mistral itself.
With a gentle thump the pilot brought the ship in for a landing, disabling the gravity Dust thrusters and allowing the ship to settle down on its landing gear. Winter rode the jolt out calmly, hands folded behind her back as she waited for the hatch to open. She was here to collect the documents General Ironwood had requested, so she intended to make this as quick a stop as possible.
The hatch opened and the ramp lowered. "Operative Schnee, you're clear to disembark," the pilot's voice said over the intercom.
She reached out and pressed the transmit button on the panel next to the door. "Thank you. Please make sure we refuel and prepare a course to take us to Mistral upon my return."
"Yes ma'am. We'll see to it."
Winter folded her hands behind her back and strode down the ramp. Tiny, grey-haired Caroline Cordovin was waiting for her a short distance away, two guards flanking her.
"Operative Schnee, a pleasure to see you again," Cordovin said, simperingly.
Winter resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This sort of unctuous attitude was one of the many reasons that she had wanted to escape the Schnee name and legacy and had gone to the military. She'd had enough of it from her father growing up. The false faces, the simpering posing and preening… poor Weiss was the one having to deal with it now, but Winter hoped her sister would come to the same realizations that she had and would make her own way. Weiss was already attending combat school in Atlas and preparing to submit her application to Atlas Academy in another two years.
"Commander Cordovin, a pleasure," Winter lied, keeping a pleasant smile on her face with an effort.
"How may I help you? When we received the transmission from your ship that you were requesting to land…"
"General Ironwood has sent me with a request to retrieve physical copies of any crime reports from the past year," Winter replied. "He would like any records from the archives involving kidnappings, thefts, murders, but nothing related to Grimm activity."
Cordovin's face was a mixture of affront and confusion. "All of our records can be accessed via the archives through the CCTS – not that you will find anything, with the Atlas military helping to maintain peace and order in the city of Argus!"
Winter tightened her hands in irritation behind her back. Pompous woman… "General Ironwood is aware of that, Commander. Nevertheless, he would like to have the physical copies of any such crime reports from the past year. He didn't tell me why he wanted them, but those are his orders to me."
Cordovin sniffed but nodded. "Very well. My guard will escort you to the archive room and the officer on duty there can fetch what you need," she said stiffly.
"Thank you," Winter said. "I have other bases to visit as well, so I'll be on my way as soon as I've carried out the General's orders."
Cordovin nodded again, turned on her heel and marched back towards the command center, leaving one of her guards behind and taking the other with her.
Winter sighed and looked to her escort. "If you would, please?"
"Right away ma'am!"
Beacon Tower… Ozpin's Office… Sunday Afternoon…
Beep… beep…
Ozpin glanced at the notification that had popped up in the corner of his terminal's holo-screen and – for a moment – was tempted to ignore it entirely. He was due to leave to meet with the officer from the Vale Police Department in just a few minutes. Dealing with Councilman Russet would not be pleasant, or brief.
Markus Russet was another member of the Vale Council, and one of Ozpin's most pernicious rivals in this incarnation when it came to political or Council matters. In a sense, both of them were career politicians – although for different reasons, since Russet had worked his way up to a Council seat, while Ozpin had inherited his knowledge and experience in such matters via the soul merge.
They had butted heads more than once on proposals submitted to the Council over the last three years since Russet had been elected to his first term, and would likely continue to do so, as the man had just been re-elected for his second three-year term. He was also one of the ones who most despised Ozpin for his middle-of-the road political opinions and habit of proposing compromise over taking a stand one way or the other on an issue or a proposal. Ozpin had no doubt that, if presented with an opportunity, he would do everything in his power to see to it that Ozpin was evicted from his position as Headmaster to be replaced by someone who would be more inclined to agree with him.
Beep… beep…
Ozpin hesitated a moment longer before resigning himself to the situation and accepting the video call, adopting a neutral expression. "Councilman Russet. How may I help you?"
"Ozpin," the other man said curtly, not even bothering to return the courtesy of using Ozpin's title as Ozpin had used his. "The proposal about inspections on Dust imports and the standardization of refinement facilities…"
"I've read it," Ozpin replied evenly. "I'm still evaluating the pertinent research, financials, and testimonies that were attached to or would affect the proposal, but I expect to have reviewed all of the provided data before the meeting on Friday."
"We need to pass that legislation," Russet said bluntly. "We can't allow inferior quality Dust to be used in defense of our Kingdom from companies that don't have established, standardized purification and processing facilities in place. As a Huntsman," the title was said with no little scorn, "I would think that would be obvious to you. There's been an uptick in Dust-related accidents over the last six months and…"
Ozpin allowed the Councilman to drone on as he continued to shut down the rest of his systems in preparation to go to the meeting he had arranged with the officer to speak with Oscar. He wasn't surprised with the topic of conversation, after all – it was the most prominent proposal currently in front of the Council for consideration. He knew very well why Russet was pushing so hard for it, of course. Despite his apparent concern for the Huntsmen, Huntresses, and citizens over 'inferior Dust', which did have some legitimacy, his true motives were far more self-serving.
Russet, having come from a middle-class family and having worked his way up to a Council position, desperately wanted an 'in' with the elite of all four Kingdoms and was particularly desirous of having a friendship with and the support of Jacques Schnee and the Schnee Dust Company before the end of his final term arrived.
On the surface, the proposal looked sound and well-meaning, and there were points to it that Ozpin could agree with. Dust was a volatile substance when not handled properly, but even among expert wielders, accidents could happen. That was even truer when the Dust had not been properly refined and processed from the rock it had been mined from. Ozpin's problem with the proposal, however, wasn't the need to ensure the safety of the people – from the miners to the processers, to the citizens who used the refined product – nor was it the object of trying to eliminate improperly processed Dust, however. No, his problem with the proposal – as it was written – lay in the ramifications of what it would mean for the Kingdom's economy and for the ordinary shopkeepers and Dust companies who didn't have the resources and influence the larger companies like the SDC did. Not many of the smaller Dust companies of Remnant could afford to build or maintain the type of processing facilities the proposal referred to under the guise of 'standardizing' processing and refinement of Dust.
Smaller mining operations generally only had three choices when it came to refining and processing their Dust. They could attempt to refine it themselves, which was a costly, time consuming process and – if done wrong – could result in terrible accidents or deaths, which would force them to close their doors under the burden of blowback and prosecution for endangerment of workers' lives.
They could simply sell their unprocessed Dust to a larger company – like the SDC – that had their own processing facilities, but the purified and processed Dust brought a higher profit, and the companies that simply sold unprocessed Dust wouldn't see a penny of those profits.
What most of the smaller companies ended up doing was striking an agreement with a company that specialized only in Dust refinement and processing – providing them with the Dust they needed to run their business, in exchange for a share of the profits from the sale of the refined Dust when it was either sold to a shop or sold directly to the Academies or Dust wholesalers. Ozpin favored buying the Dust supplies used by Beacon from the smaller companies to support Vale's economy, but he knew the other Academies tended to purchase from the SDC.
There had been similar proposals over the years, some of which had been enacted due to the need to ensure citizen safety and to keep shop owners from being conned with promises of fine-quality, fully purified Dust, only to be sold something of inferior quality. Ozpin didn't have any problems with proposals like that, but this one, as it was written, benefitted no one but the large-scale companies like the SDC.
"Ozpin? Ozpin!"
"I'm listening, Councilman Russet," Ozpin assured him. "I intend to give the proposal all due consideration before the matter is brought up on Friday, as I stated. However, I do need to cut this conversation short, as I have another appointment in town in a few minutes, and I need to leave if I'm going to catch the next air ferry into the city. I'd be willing to discuss this with you further later this week, so if you'd like to make an appointment, just call, and ask to speak to my secretary, or Professor Goodwitch, and they'll be happy to find you a place on my calendar. I'd be happy to meet with you here at Beacon, in town, or just have a video call."
"Ozpin, you can't keep ducking these sorts of proposals or pushing them aside!" Russet's face was beginning to flush like his namesake at the implied dismissal.
"Councilman, I am not ducking the proposal," Ozpin replied firmly, already reaching for Long Memory where it rested against his desk near his left hand and the satchel of books he'd collected from his own personal bookshelves earlier that day. "I will give it the same amount of consideration I do all proposals submitted to the Council, regardless of my personal feelings about it. However, I do have other responsibilities to attend to at this time, so I will speak with you at a later date. Have a nice day." Before the Councilman could reply, Ozpin ended the call and closed down his terminal, which would automatically reroute any calls directly to his inbox.
He'd end up paying for that at the Council meeting next Friday, he had no doubt about that. Russet would consider the abrupt end to their conversation an insult, but it wasn't the first time he'd taken offense to something that Ozpin had done.
Outspoken and openly derisive of the fact that Ozpin held an unelected seat on the Council by virtue of the fact that he was Beacon's Headmaster, he had made it clear that he believed that the Academies' Headmasters shouldn't hold Council positions at all, but instead should merely answer to the Council when they wanted a report on the Kingdom's Huntsmen and Huntresses, or the progress of the school.
The Huntsmen Academies had been a dream of his for several incarnations, but he hadn't been able to implement them until after the Great War. When he'd first come up with the concept – a place to train warriors to defend Remnant against Salem's forces, as well as provide a deterrent against her and protect the Relics at the same time, he'd never wanted the leadership of the Academies to be involved in politics at all. But, during the height of the War, while he'd been trying to think of a plan to not only end the War, but prevent another one from ever happening again, he'd reconsidered. If the Academies were going to become the first line of defense as he envisioned them being, then the Headmasters needed to be able to operate both independently with the day-to-day running of the school, but also work in conjunction with the other leaders of the Kingdom to ensure that the Academies would have the funding they needed as well as being unbound by constantly shifting political tides.
The idea of an elected Council of representatives to speak for the people – with set term limits and a way to be recalled if their decisions proved to be too self-serving or corrupt – had seemed to be the ideal answer. The people would be the ultimate authority, because if the Council ever went too far beyond what a majority of the populace was comfortable with, the people could simply vote the Council members out and put new leaders in, including the Headmaster of the Kingdom's Academy.
It had been one of his advisors of the time, however – a mouse Faunus named Shadrat Dent – who had pointed out that such an arrangement wouldn't work, at least where the Headmaster was concerned. Not only would the Headmaster be extremely busy with the running of the school and coordinating the Kingdom's defenses where the new Huntsmen class was concerned but serving on the Council would also be an added burden, even if it was just in an advisory capacity. Having to worry about running for re-election every three years would be an additional toll – and once the term limits had been reached, it would mean that a new Headmaster would have to be appointed. It wouldn't be good for the Academies for the Headmaster to be changing every decade or so – assuming that the current Headmaster even won re-election to the Council. An arrangement like that would only make the Headmasters and the Academies a political tool, which was what he wanted to avoid. At the same time, he hadn't wanted an unelected official holding a Council seat could also have been a potential recipe for disaster and could lead to someone taking advantage of their position to gain power of the sort he was trying to prevent.
Finally, he'd accepted the idea of having one unelected member of the Council – the Headmaster – was acceptable, as long as the rest of the Council members were elected. It still gave the people a voice, but also allowed for some stability in the new Huntsmen Academies. For the most part, the system had worked well. For eighty years, the Councils had done good work in keeping the Kingdoms safe by enacting laws designed to protect the citizens. They'd all taken different approaches, but the intentions were good – although they could also be somewhat self-serving, depending on what proposals became law and who was sitting on the Council at any given time.
Ozpin shook his head and moved towards the elevator. He had a ferry to catch and an appointment to keep.
Brisk strides took him from the Tower to the landing strip, where the ferry was just getting ready to depart for its next trip into Vale. The trip took ten minutes, and the ferry ran every half hour, which left ten minutes on each side for passengers to board and disembark. Once on board, he sent a notification to the officer he'd arranged to meet with, letting him know that he was on his way to the hospital.
He caught a taxi once on the far side and was soon pulling up in front of the hospital's main entrance. He paid the driver and exited the vehicle, extending Long Memory and heading up the sidewalk to where a man was waiting. "Detective Quarry?"
"Professor Ozpin, hello. Thank you for arranging this meeting," the detective greeted him. "This is quite an unusual case – a boy unexpectedly appearing in your office?"
"Indeed," Ozpin replied. "It was very unexpected, and unusual. I'm grateful that his Semblance brought him somewhere that he could get help though – his wounds were severe, according to the doctor, and if he had just appeared outside of a town or city, he may have passed away before anyone ever found him."
"You're convinced that it was his Semblance, then?" the detective asked as they entered the hospital together and moved towards the elevator.
"Unless Oscar is able to tell us otherwise," Ozpin replied vaguely. He was confident that the teen wouldn't mention time travel to the detective, after Ozpin had mentioned the need for a cover story the night before, but at the same time, Oscar hadn't given him any indication as to what his Semblance actually was.
Ozpin led the way to Oscar's room once the elevator arrived and looked inside before knocking. "Good afternoon, Oscar."
The boy looked much better – physically speaking – than he had the day before. His black eye was healed – no doubt a result of using his aura, and all of the cuts and bruises that had marred his face were gone as well. He was sitting a little more upright in the bed, although the oxygen mask was still hanging from the lanyard around his neck, in easy reach.
The boy looked over at the door and offer a shy smile. "Hello," he said. His voiced didn't sound quite as raspy or breathy as it had either."
"You look like you're feeling better," Ozpin observed.
"I am," the boy agreed. "Doctor Ashburn allowed me to start healing with my aura earlier. My ribs and lung still need a few days of recovery, and she doesn't want me to try to heal those unsupervised, but I was at least able to deal with some of my less severe injuries so I can be more comfortable." He shifted a little, straightening up even more in the bed, the movement causing him to wince and suck in a pained breath. That had him bringing one hand up to his bandaged chest and inhaling slowly to calm his breathing, but not reaching for his oxygen mask this time.
"Oscar, this is Detective Quarry of the Vale Police Department," Ozpin said, once the boy's attention refocused on them. "He just needs to take your statement about what happened to cause your injuries before you appeared in my office." Since the detective was studying the boy, rather than paying attention to Ozpin, he gave Oscar a questioning look, wondering if he'd been able to come up with a plausible cover story since the previous evening.
"Yeah, okay," Oscar said. "A lot of it is kind of fuzzy though," he admitted.
"That's quite alright," Detective Quarry said, shaking his brown-and grey-streaked hair out of his face as he pulled out a tablet and opened it. "For the record, your name and age?"
"Oscar Pine. I'm fifteen."
"Where are you from, Oscar?"
"M-mistral," he replied before he coughed again. "S-sorry," he choked as he cl He reached for his oxygen mask and took a few breaths before dropping it to hang around his neck again. "I live on a farm outside the main city with my aunt."
"What brought you to Vale?" the detective asked.
"Nothing," Oscar said quietly. "I didn't even know I was in Vale until I woke up in the hospital and asked the nurse."
"Can you tell me what you remember?"
Oscar took a deep breath. "I started living on the farm after my parents died," he said slowly, eyes fixed on his blanket. "I helped out around the farm for a couple of years, but I always wanted to do something more than just be a farm hand, you know?" He glanced up in time to see the detective and Ozpin both nodding. "For the most part, it was a quiet life. The work was hard, but we were happy, so we didn't often attract Grimm. There were just a few small Grimm once in a while – the kind of Grimm I could kill with a pitchfork or spade." He toyed with the edge of the blanket. "Our farm was isolated, but there were enough people nearby, and I made some friends and met a few adult Huntsmen who taught me out to unlock my aura and began teaching me to fight. I – well, finally I decided that I would try to become a Huntsman. I hadn't ever been to combat school, but I was old enough, so when I told my aunt what I wanted to do, she gave me some Lien she'd been saving – enough to buy me a train ticket into the city and some new clothes so I would look respectable when I went to apply for admittance."
Ozpin was listening carefully, trying to determine the truth or falsehood of what Oscar was saying. He had already mentioned the farm to Glynda, so Ozpin was reasonably sure that much was true. His parents' death – Ozpin didn't see any reason why he would lie about that either, nor about working on the farm and killing small Grimm. That was common enough outside the Kingdoms for survival.
But when he spoke about his friends and some adult Huntsmen teaching him, about wanting to become a Huntsman – and his aunt giving him money – there was a slight flicker of his eyelids, and his hands clenched on the edge of the blanket almost reflexively. That was definitely a lie.
"I left before dawn," Oscar continued slowly. "Got my ticket into Mistral and took the train into the city, and then I went shopping." He frowned. "The doctor told me they had to cut my coat apart to treat my wounds when I was brought in. Feels like a waste of money to have bought it now."
Again, a mixture of truth and lies – he had taken the train into the city, Ozpin observed, and he had gone shopping, but there was something about when he talked about shopping that didn't ring true. Nothing that he should be lying about, as far as Ozpin could tell, so it was interesting to realize that he was lying about something so simple.
"I was trying to find directions to one of the combat schools, when someone grabbed me and pulled me away. I'm still developing my Aura, and a couple of hits knocked me out," Oscar said. "When I came to, there was a big guy standing over me. He started hitting me, over and over again. I didn't know what was happening, and he kept asking me something, but my head was ringing, and I was in pain, so it took me a while to realize what he was asking. He kept saying 'Where is it? Where is it?' over and over again. I thought he was talking about my money, so I tried to tell him it was in my belt pouch, but he wasn't listening. He kept hitting me, and I kept blacking out. He left me alone a few times, but he would eventually come back, and it would start all over again."
"Oscar, calm down," Ozpin said when the boy paused. His breathing was getting a little more rapid as he remembered the torture he'd gone through. The only thing that Ozpin felt that Oscar had been lying about in all of that was when he'd mentioned believing that his attacker was asking about his money and it being in his belt pouch. "We don't want to stress your injuries while you're still healing."
Oscar nodded and closed his eyes, leaning back against the bed and just taking some slow breaths. "I don't really know what happened after that. It all blurred together after a while – the beatings, the questioning… I lost sense of time and then he came back again. I was begging him to stop hurting me, to tell me what he was looking for. I just wanted to get away. Finally, I lost consciousness again and that's all I remember. I sort of remember being in Professor Ozpin's office, but not really. I just remember someone leaning over me and staying with me and trying to keep me calm."
"You were only semi-conscious at best and running a high fever," Ozpin observed. "It's not surprising that your memories may not be clear on all the details."
Yeah," Oscar murmured, opening his eyes again. "Sorry. It – it was hard to live through, and hard to remember and talk about."
"It was something traumatic," Ozpin said soothingly. "No one expects you to have coped with it in only a few days. It may take time, and it's certainly still fresh in your mind."
"Did you hear anything – a name, or anything that might help us identify him?" Quarry asked.
Oscar shook his head, but his eyes dropped – a tell that Ozpin was certain meant that the teen was lying. "No. I wish I knew who he was."
"Did you get a good look at the man who attacked you? Can you describe him?" Quarry asked.
"Um, yeah. He was big – really big," Oscar said. "Easily over seven feet tall. Huge muscles, with lots of scars on his arms and what I could see of his chest. He was wearing a black shirt that laced up at the neck and black pants, and an olive-green jacket. He had a brown beard and short brown hair and…" Oscar hesitated, "hazel eyes."
Ozpin's eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything, Quarry interjected. "Hazel eyes? You're sure about that?"
Oscar paused again and met Ozpin's eyes directly. "Yes. Hazel eyes."
The emphasis he put on the color of his attacker's eyes… after a moment, the description clicked with Ozpin. Hazel Rainart. An old enemy, but someone who wouldn't be an enemy if Ozpin had anything to do with it – but Hazel just wasn't willing to be anything else. He nodded, trying to let Oscar know he understood the message that the boy had been trying to give him.
Quarry closed his tablet and pocketed it. "Alright. I'll circulate his description – maybe we can locate him. Do you think you could identify him from a photo or a line up if we can find him?"
There was another hesitation and Ozpin could see something… in the boy's expression. Finally, Oscar nodded, firmly. "Yes."
"Good." Detective Quarry paused. "Do you know how you managed to escape, Mr. Pine? Professor Ozpin theorized that it was your Semblance."
"I – I'm not sure," Oscar admitted. "It could be, maybe? I hadn't discovered what it was before… all of this, but I know that some people unlock theirs under stress, so…"
"It's also not uncommon for people to do extraordinary things the first time their Semblance manifests, especially in highly stressful situations," Ozpin added. "If Oscar appearing in my office – possibly all the way from Mistral – is his Semblance, its unlikely he would be able to do any such feat again without intensive training."
"Fair enough." Quarry stood. "I hope your recovery goes smoothly, Mr. Pine. Will you be going home once you've recovered?"
"I – I don't know," Oscar admitted. "I mean, I still…" he paused for a moment. "I guess I still want to be a Huntsman, but…"
"I may be able to help with that," Ozpin said. "If it was your Semblance that brought you to my office, it's an exceedingly powerful one, as I mentioned. You're still a bit young to formally attend Beacon, but perhaps we can make some arrangements with your aunt for some private training to bring you up to speed and make sure your Semblance is fully under your control. In another two years, you could become a Beacon student in truth."
"I – I would like that," Oscar said. "But is that something that can be done? I never attended combat school, and…"
"Combat school isn't a requirement to attend the Academies," Ozpin replied. "It's highly recommended, but not mandatory, so long as you can pass the requisite entrance exam. With some private training and tutoring to bring you up to speed, I don't see any reason why you shouldn't be able to pass the exam."
"Oh." Oscar seemed surprised, but after a moment nodded. "I – thank you."
"Alright then," Quarry said. "I'll put my report together and initiate a search for the man who attacked you, Mr. Pine – if he's still in Mistral, however, we may never identify him or catch up to him, but we can notify the Mistral Police Force, and they can let your aunt know that you're still alive."
"No!" Oscar exclaimed, before coughing harshly and pulling his oxygen back up again. When he was able to breathe without coughing, he looked up. "No, thank you, I mean. I – I'd rather talk to her myself. I don't want her to worry about me. She doesn't know I was attacked, and I'd prefer to break the news to her."
"Very well. We'll put them on the search for your attacker, but we won't ask them to contact your family." Quarry nodded. "Thank you for arranging this meeting, Professor. Shall I contact you if we find out anything?"
"I think that would be acceptable," Ozpin agreed. The detective nodded and departed, leaving Ozpin and Oscar alone together.
Silence fell between them for a moment before…
"Did you really mean all that?" Oscar asked. "About training me, I mean?"
Ozpin turned back to face the boy. "If that's what you want, yes. I –" It was his turn to hesitate as he studied Oscar, thought about everything he had just heard and made a decision. "I believe you, Oscar. I don't know what it may mean for us going forward, or how it happened, but I do believe you."
I AM SO SORRY! I fully intended to have this one up much much earlier, but work-related issues caught up with me. I'm angling for a promotion, so I've had a lot of prep work to do for that in addition to my actual job, I've been trying to help my parents out since my dad is having some health issues (nothing serious, thankfully, but he's less active than he has been, so I've had to do more around the house to help) - but I was determined to get this chapter out before Sunday as a gift to all of you, my loyal readers, since Sunday is my birthday.
I hope this chapter meets with your expectations! Once again, it's un-beta'd, but I'm hoping to change that soon. If anyone sees any glaring errors, please feel free to point them out so I can make the appropriate edits.