Chapter Thirty-One: Detachment
Expectations never matched up with reality. Even someone as old -as wizened- as herself could still be surprised.
Salem hadn't expected to form any attachment. He was not the first she had invited to her side, and some had stayed there longer than he had. Some may even have shared her bed long enough to fancy themselves her consorts. He was under no such delusion, but… somehow that made it even harder for her to sever the tie. He was realistic, pragmatic… grounded. In all her cabal he was the most mature and level-headed, and -though stoic- possibly the most compassionate and merciful.
But he was still just a reminder. He was only ever that.
Salem stopped returning to her quarters. Her Grimm flagship -an ancient project, a living weapon- had no other comfortable place to rest, but without her presence he would eventually leave the comforts and find a place to rest on the stone slabs Salem carved in the Grimm's flesh. He'd join Mercury and Emerald in some meager, undersized dwelling while he waited for his queen's command.
Salem didn't want to speak to him again. Not because she thought anything would change in Hazel -the arrangement hadn't seemed to affect him- but because she didn't want to be so formal as to… end it.
It was such a childish thing, but she'd never really learned how to break things off. Usually her paramours ended up dead before Salem had to have that conversation. Either they remained loyal and perished fighting one of Ozma's pieces on the board or they overstepped themselves and Salem removed them from her table. Hazel… wasn't likely to do either.
He deserved some shred of respect and consideration, but Salem could not concede even that. She could not bring herself to look him in the eye and simply state their bond would be severed… or even more bluntly, had never been meant to last.
A reminder. Nothing more.
Yet she still waited, away from her own bed, her own chambers… seating her throne like a fortress, trying to be subtle rather than exercising her will.
It should've been easy. There was no equality to the relationship; no expectation. But Salem's confidence eroded when she asked herself where she was to go next.
To sneak out the door in the middle of the night… like Ozma did. Her fist wrenched on her throne, bending rock and bone as her anger manifested again. Anger that arose pointlessly over something so… mundane.
She never had the chance to experience it. The only man she'd ever actually been attached to died while she was still very much in love with him. Then when she got him back, he tried to abandon her -and abscond with her daughters- without a word. So he died again… she made sure that he did.
Salem told herself that was why she'd needed the reminder. When she heard that Ozpin had already reincarnated so quickly, all her satisfaction at sending Cinder to dispose of him vanished. All her peace of mind was eroded, and she'd needed to quell her rage.
But she also wanted him because he'd reminded her of what she lost. And never once stopped coveting.
She adjusted her plans in part so he'd live to see the changes she would impose. Time had already weathered him, and Salem did not want him to fade away as had so many others…
Alone with her thoughts, she could admit. Without the ears of her council, Salem could whisper that she had never been able to forget that she'd once loved someone, and sometimes wondered if she could find someone to make her feel that again… if anyone wandering the remnant would not see a monster and only see the loneliest woman in the world.
But Hazel was just a substitute. It was becoming easier to convince herself of that the longer she waited in her seat of power, letting the weight of her crown focus her attention away from that lingering weakness.
She remembered what it was to be alive, for a while. If Hazel lived to see the end of her mission, she'd offer him her gratitude. Then she'd move on and see what the twin gods would do when called back to see all she'd wrought, and his fate would be in someone else's hands.
Salem opened her palm on the armrest of her seat. No magic left her fingers this time. For the moment, at least, her anger had subsided. Her restless body had been given peace.
Now to the mission. No more time wasted on memory; on shadows and echoes of a love that no longer existed.
The fairy tale had ended. The dream faded from memory. She was awake to reality now.
"Don't wander off, don't break anything, and be ready in case the General calls on you," Harriet firmly instructed the younger pool of Hunters, before heading off with Elm and Vine, ostensibly to provide security… but moments later Vine suggested they stop for hors d'oeuvres and Elm seemed eager to eat her way through all the Schnee's food options.
Yang quickly turned to the others. "Counterpoint: how about we do wander off, consider breaking things, and then all that other stuff?"
Getting Weiss out of the throng of partygoers unnoticed was their first priority. She tapped the commlink in her ear, assuring the others: "I'll be in touch."
But moments after breaking off from the group, she ran into her brother, Whitley, standing at the foot of the manor's grand staircase. "Dear sister, I was hoping we could use this time to catch up…"
Weiss did her best to keep her composure and not seem surprised. "Oh-"
"I have to know: why did you go through so much trouble to leave home, only to come crawling back?" Whitley inquired.
Weiss averted her gaze, sighing to herself. He was too busy enjoying the chance to lord something over her to notice that her vexation and annoyance had little to do with his little zinger…
Oscar was quickly in the others' ears as he tapped his own commlink. "This might be a problem."
Whitley continued to pontificate. He kept going for… quite a while.
"Why won't this kid buzz off?" Yang grumbled, letting the others hear her over the comms.
"We need to do something," Blake agreed at Yang's right.
One of their number quickly thought up a solution while the others continued to stew. Nora had been collecting quite a few serving trays as she too made her way through the hors d'oeuvres, and instead of staying in place had opted to start winding her way through the crowd, collecting ever more food from the servers… and drawing closer to Weiss and Whitley.
"What was that earlier about breaking things…?" Jaune quietly observed.
Weiss was attempting to be cordial with Whitley, but he was smart enough to notice her trying to slip away. When he asked where she would be going to, Weiss quickly deflected, feigning surprise. Evidently, Whitley was so eager to talk about himself -something about a company car when he was old enough to drive- that he overlooked Weiss's escape attempt.
Nora continued to maneuver, swinging wildly about, pretending to lose control as she maneuvered towards a heavyset guest already a few drinks deep… and in close proximity to the siblings, holding a mostly-full wine glass in her off hand.
Oscar attempted to move in, but paused when he noticed Ren had already circled around the crowd and was moving to intercept Nora. When had he plotted that course? Had he just anticipated Nora's actions so thoroughly he just… found himself in position?
Ren moved in to complement her movement, nonchalantly passing by her, bumping her shoulder. Nora dramatically spun around, pretending to lose her grip on her many, many serving trays. "Oh, no!" she wailed, "Look out!"
The heavyset guest had been chasing after her own plate when Nora 'accidentally' lost her grip. The food she'd been pursuing found its way to her, falling all over her face, her hair, her expensive dress… she was stunned only for a moment before flicking out her arms, dousing the nearby Whitley with red wine before she fled from the chamber, desperate not to be seen in such a state.
Whitley -now so drenched in wine red continuously dripped from his white hair- did his best to remain dignified. "...if you'll excuse me."
Weiss was gracious enough not to laugh at his expense. And to offer her friends a curt nod as she ascended the staircase and began her search.
Oscar watched her vanish from his field of vision as she reached the second floor before turning his attention to Nora, looking to offer her an approving smile… only to notice she was already congratulating someone else, thanking Ren for his timely intervention. Oscar's smile vanished quickly, and he doubted Nora would even have noticed he'd had it.
He tried not to be bothered. That Ren could anticipate Nora better than anyone else was hardly surprising… that she'd be grateful for his help -even when it was expected of him- was exactly the kind of generosity and affection that made it so easy to like Nora.
Oscar reminded himself that they had a job to do, and he had to both continue covering for Weiss's absence and play up the part of hired security for General Ironwood. He had responsibilities to juggle already without stopping to dwell on the fact Nora and Ren remained an effective duo.
But he would just the same. Even when he turned his head and wandered about the chamber, checking for any other wandering eyes… he still saw Nora smiling fondly at Ren.
He knew he'd see that from her. Every day. But it hadn't bothered him before now.
Oscar thought he saw one of the servers check the stairs: a girl with green eyes and black hair. He moved closer to her, just in case Weiss's absence had become conspicuous enough to be notable. When she headed for an adjacent hall with an empty serving tray, he kept close to listen in… distracted as he was, he tried to remember the job.
It wasn't the first time he'd been unable to tell what Nora had been thinking. But now he was the one responsible for putting her in the mood she was in, he was the one she'd be concealing her thoughts from… for her oldest and dearest friend, she wouldn't have to hide herself away.
He knew everything about her. He was still the only one who knew about Oscar and her.
Well, the only one besides-
The girl had slipped from his view. Oscar frantically glanced around the hall, looking for some obvious sign of her presence. Had he been so distracted an ordinary Schnee company employee had just… wandered off without him realizing it?
No. But he had been distracted enough to be caught unaware.
He felt something sharp press to the small of his back. When he tried to glance backwards, he felt it jab forward, digging into the back of his jacket.
Green eyes, black hair… a bit on the short side. The only girl he knew shorter than him.
And he had come to know her so very well recently…
"Neo," Oscar whispered.
She prodded him forward, into the hall, out of sight of the numerous party guests. Oscar tried desperately to look back, or to reach up to tap his commlink, but every time he moved -any direction but straight ahead- she jabbed him again with her parasol, tucked under a large serving platter.
He hadn't planned to see her again so soon. But he'd brought the lamp out in the open, and wandered into a secluded area while being hunted by a woman who could disguise himself as whomever she wished…
He never saw her coming. He never heard her move.
How history tended to repeat…
Blake didn't much care for large crowds to begin with: there was always so much noise she couldn't completely filter out. A crowd of wealthy Atlesians constantly talking about their money, their businesses, and their politics also made for a lot of conversations she didn't particularly want to overhear. But then, anyone supporting the council run of Jacques Schnee probably wouldn't have been someone Blake wanted to talk to anyway.
Many of them would pause a moment when they noticed her presence, and their voices would fall to a whisper. She didn't need to hear what they said: she could guess. Not hearing them didn't make it any easier for her to bear as she continued feigning a patrol route.
No wonder Marrow had opted to patrol the exterior rather than the manor itself. The only Faunus these snobs wanted to see was one catering their drinks and supplicating to their whims at every opportunity. They didn't want to take the trouble to put up with a Faunus girl they couldn't simply ignore or boss around. They were probably affronted by her mere presence.
Blake reminded herself she was there for Weiss. And hearing unsolicited opinions from ignorant Atlesians was hardly anything new for her…
Yang had been at Blake's left for most of the night. She wasn't looking for it, but she couldn't help but notice how seemingly every guest would pause upon noticing Blake and murmur to themselves. Eventually, she tried to lighten the mood, dryly observing: "You've got a lot of fans."
"From a certain point of view," Blake conceded.
"I'm sure they'd like you if they got to know you," Yang optimistically suggested, reaching to the nearest serving platter to snack on yet another hors d'ouevres. "You could try making conversation."
Blake sighed. "Of all the things I planned to do tonight… I think I'd dread that the most."
"You always have," Yang confirmed, glancing around the room. "Did you see which way Oscar went when he ducked out? I'm wondering if the general snatched him up for that super secret political talk…"
Blake felt unnerved at Yang mentioning him. Another reminder of what had once been for Yang… and herself, to an extent.
She knew she shouldn't have been bothered. She knew that -no matter how she tried to demonize him- Oscar wasn't someone she feared. Ozpin had been the liar, the manipulator… Oscar just happened to be the one whose lips the wizard used to spread his mistruth.
Blake couldn't help but be bothered by it. She knew how easy it was to fall under the sway of manipulation… and how easy it could be to justify keeping the truth from someone. She was more on board with it than the others had been when they arrived in Atlas, because she'd spent a very long time keeping secrets from them: from the people she trusted as much as her own family.
Oscar… Blake was sure he had secrets. But sometimes she had conflated his actions with Ozpin's, and hadn't quite been able to detach and differentiate the two. Yang… Yang must've been better at it. Even after ending their little… arrangement, she still seemed fond of him and comfortable with him around. Blake wasn't quite there yet.
Though there were some things that left her… curious.
"Do you have any idea why Oscar thought Nora would come to visit him in the middle of the night?" Blake wondered, keeping her voice down, just in case any more rich partygoers happened to be glancing their way.
"...because Nora takes any excuse to hug him and has no sense of personal space with anybody anyway?" Yang suggested.
She was one to talk. Blake mused: "Yeah, I suppose."
Yang, however, wasn't quite fooled by Blake's dismissive tone. "What, do you think there's something going on there? Between Nora and… anybody who isn't Ren?"
It was a strange notion, but it wasn't the only idea Blake had. And she was wondering what Yang might think if she knew some… other details Blake happened to be privy to.
"Maybe, maybe not," Blake noncommittally replied. "Nora likes everybody: for all I know he just happened to be awake and didn't think there was any reason to worry about her knocking on his door."
"Is that really what you think…?" Yang asked in a very leading sort of way. She'd already started to read Blake's play. She knew there was more to the story.
"Well, I do wonder if anyone else has been visiting him," Blake halfheartedly indulged. "Weiss stopped to talk to him for a bit after he told us about the lamp."
"Oh, no, Weiss talked to him? How scandalous…" Yang whimsically murmured.
Weiss had been no more supportive of Oscar than Blake had been of Weiss herself in facing a crisis of confidence. But what Blake felt for Yang started as that same thing: the affection for a dear, irreplaceable friend.
That could've been what Weiss thought of Oscar. Maybe she'd become closer to him during their stay in Atlas, unnoticed while Blake had her eye elsewhere…
There was someone else they could ask: someone who knew and was quite fond of both Oscar and Weiss.
"Hey, Ruby," Blake called, waving the girl in the red hood over to them. It wouldn't have made for a very efficient patrol route to have the three of them bunched together, but Blake didn't imagine she'd need very long to wring the information she sought. "I was wondering if you noticed, this morning when-"
"Do you think there's something going on between Oscar and Weiss?" Yang interjected, once more serving as the force to match -or undercut, as the case may be- Blake's attempts at finesse.
To Blake's surprise, Ruby actually averted her gaze, feigning a cough. "I… uh… she and I did talk about that, actually."
"No way," Yang barely managed.
Blake was wrong: this wouldn't be a short inquiry at all.
"The fact of the matter is, you've operated with a fair amount of autonomy the past few years, James," Councilman Sleet reminded the general. "What we need now is for you to work with us."
Winter idly tapped her finger on her father's -her family's- dinner table, trying to hide her scowl. Ironwood quickly tried to justify himself. "Sir, I-"
"It's obvious no kingdom intends to declare war on Atlas," Councilor Camilla interjected. "We had no involvement in the incident at Haven; we have proof our drones weren't acting on orders at Beacon. At this point, the closure of Atlas borders is only serving to hurt our relations with the rest of the world."
Ironwood turned his gaze from Sleet and Camilla to Jacques, sitting at the head of the table, idly sipping his wine. Now his true objective was out in the open… and when Camillla spoke, he never even saw Javques' lips move.
"The rest of the world?" Robyn Hill incredulously asked. "It's hurting us. The people of Atlas are suffering and they want to know why!"
And she played right into Jacques' hands too. She clearly wasn't quite as adept at politics as she might've pretended to be… though she at least Ironwood was confident wasn't intentionally helping Jacques Schnee. She was simply enough of a problem to merit consideration. So Jacques Schnee threw her a bone to keep her wrath directed at Ironwood.
"Quite right, Ms. Hill," Jacques agreed. "And I'm afraid there's more than just your choices that have brought harm to our citizens as of late… have your forces found any additional evidence as to who is slaughtering innocent civilians down in Mantle?"
"That is an ongoing investigation," Clover replied. "The details of which are… classified, I'm afraid."
This too fit Jacques' plan. "I'm afraid of the ever-growing list of classified information you seem to be keeping. I asked our fellow councilmen here to shed some light on your Amity Colosseum project, and -as it turns out- they know about as much as I do."
Robyn seemed surprised. "Even you don't know…"
"The Amity project will help with all the issues you presented," Ironwood quickly defended. "But you have to understand that discretion is a top priority at this time."
"Are you saying that you don't trust us...?" Jacques mockingly inquired.
Winter's tapping on the table grew faster and louder… until her fingers all balled together in a fist and slammed against the wood. "You can't just buy trust like everything else: you have to earn it!"
Her outburst didn't go unnoticed by the rest of the table. While Robyn, Camilla, and Sleet all fell silent… Jacques merely smiled. "I couldn't have said it better myself. General, if I may be blunt: you have spent what little trust this council had left in you. The hacker who turned Atlas drones against us was never captured; whoever's been murdering your critics is still at large. How are we supposed to give you our trust when you've given us nothing as of late…?"
Winter tried to protest. "That's not what-"
"Winter," Ironwood interjected, "That's enough."
Winter's fist remained clenched. But she stood up straight, tearing her gaze away from her father, forcing herself to calm. When that proved unexpectedly difficult, she stepped away from the table and out from the dining room. "Excuse me."
Winter closed the door behind her, shielding her ears from any more politics… or pontification. She spent a few moments pacing back and forth before finally finding a suitable place against the wall to cross her arms and sulk.
When the door opened, Winter stood to attention again, but relaxed her guard when she saw Penny follow her out. The redheaded girl quietly asked: "Are you okay?"
"I'll be fine," Winter answered quickly. "I just let my… emotions get the better of me."
"What do you mean?" Penny wondered.
"You wouldn't understand," Winter dismissively replied.
Penny took a moment to process before replying: "Oh… right."
Winter noticed Penny turn her gaze to the floor, fidgeting with her skirt, trying to shirk away without actually moving. Winter tried to soften her tone; to not let Penny misinterpret the anger and the direction Winter meant for it. "No, no, what I mean is: this place holds a lot of memories for me, specifically. I thought I was in control, but… you heard me. I sounded like a petulant child."
"I thought you sounded fine," Penny suggested, turning her gaze back to Winter. "You were just speaking from your heart."
Winter sighed. "And that is precisely the problem: I should have just stayed in line."
Penny took a moment to think on it before whimsically replying: "I guess you're right: I don't understand."
Neo led Oscar from the hall to the nearest supply cabinet: somewhere with already tight quarters made even tighter by being lined with glassware, serving platters, and wine bottles lining every countertop. Oscar quickly took stock of the location and what was available to him, with plenty he could improvise as a weapon, but only one exit, and Neo's blade still pressed at his back.
Was this where she meant to kill him? Somewhere she could leave his body without it being immediately noticed?
No, if she meant to kill him she would have once he was out of sight. She wanted something from him-
Oscar's thought was interrupted when Neo prodded his left arm with the flat of her blade. Oscar turned to her, Neo shedding her disguise, replacing the humble suit and vest for the same black, white, and pink garb as before with a familiar derby hat over her messy hair. Her eyes shifted back to their twin hues -and between her blinks Oscar was almost certain the brown and pink switched places.
"What do you want?" Oscar asked, trying not to sound too demanding… or too fearful. He wasn't confident he could hope to read someone who could disguise herself at will.
Neo lowered the blade in her parasol to slide it between the hoop of the lamp, hoisting it up from Oscar's belt and holding it before his face. She gestured to the relic with her free hand, looking irritable.
"What, you want to ask her something?" Oscar wondered. "You can't." Neo's expression turned fierce and she moved the blade closer to him again, the lamp flailing about the surface of the steel. "You can't! All her questions have been used up!"
Rage was replaced by confusion… and unsubtle -almost coy- curiosity. Neo held up her index finger in her free hand, wagging it in the air while her eyes darted to the cane -the Long Memory- still strapped to Oscar's belt.
Oscar was wary, but nodded. He moved his hands away from his waist, holding them both in the air for Neo to see, waving back and forth to show her his gloves were empty. Apparently satisfied with this, Neo reached her hand to her slacks, producing a Scroll from her pocket. She continued to keep one eye fixed on Oscar, the other on the device's screen as she typed a simple instruction: Explain.
Oscar thought on it. He didn't know what role this girl had in Salem's plans -based on what Jinn had shown him and what Team RWBY told him about her, she seemed more tied to a local criminal in Vale rather than Salem's cabal- but he already knew Salem kept more than a few details from her minions. She -or another of her cronies- may have told Neo to get the lamp without bothering to explain what it was or what it did.
"I don't know what your…" Oscar wasn't sure how to phrase it -masters? employers?- but quickly pressed on, "I don't know what they told you about the relics, or how much you know about this fight, or about Salem, or any of it, but I will tell you what I know. This relic is real. What Jinn showed us was real."
Neo's expression turned fierce again as she moved the blade closer to Oscar's cheek again. "Wait, wait… just wait, okay?! I'll tell you what you want to know; I'm not trying to hide anything!"
Neo's gaze narrowed as she examined him. It was hardly surprising she'd be suspicious…
Oscar knew all that look all too well. He remembered seeing it from his friends the last time Jinn had provided them with a revelation…
"The lamp -Jinn- can only be used three times every hundred years," Oscar explained. "My friends -and Professor Ozpin- already used two of the questions before you came to take it. It's useless now and will keep being useless the rest of our lifetimes."
No, that wasn't completely true. That wasn't everything.
"Not that Salem will care," Oscar quickly clarified. "She has the time to wait. She's the only thing on this planet older than that lamp."
Neo raised an eyebrow. She was skeptical.
Which would be understandable coming from most anyone, hearing about Salem's immortality. But Neo didn't know? Had she yet to meet Salem and realize this…?
"My point is, you'll have to trust what Jinn said," Oscar continued. "Because it was the truth; the truth is the only thing Jinn can say. I… I don't know who this Roman Torchwick was, but he clearly meant a lot to you and-"
Oscar was abruptly silenced as Neo hoisted the blade up again, finally pressing the cold steel against Oscar's cheek. Her eyes blazed in anger again, fierce and focused on him.
It'd be easy to cower. But if she'd wanted him dead…
She'd visited him several times in the dead of night. She could've killed him after any of them. She'd seen him more vulnerable than any of his other lovers, though she may not have known it...
"I saw the same thing you did," Oscar pressed on. "And I saw her summoned before, showing the same recreations of the past in front of my friends. She was created by the gods -uh, I don't know how much you know, but there are two gods, it's a whole thing- to guide humanity with knowledge…"
Neo's patience only continued to wither. Her grip on her parasol was so tight the lamp rattled along the surface of her blade.
Oscar drew a deep breath and slowed down. He met her mismatched gaze, holding it as he could with her blade still so close. "It was all real. It was all the truth. If there's something else you want to know, then ask me."
Oscar held his hands up higher. So far he couldn't hope to reach his cane before she skewered him. "I won't lie to you. I never have."
Neo looked briefly at his hands in the air. He finally seemed to look tall…
She remembered him standing over him when Neo broke down after seeing Roman again. Instead of capitalizing on her weakness, instead of trying to capture or kill her, he offered her the hat she carried across continents -the only piece she had left of him- and asked her if she was alright.
It was foolish to be compassionate. It was a mistake to ever believe anyone, especially when they tried to negotiate from a position of weakness.
But she did believe him. He… perhaps because he was so young, or maybe because he'd so willingly placed his life in her hand…
Maybe because she'd taken the time to know him in different closed quarters and different contexts…
Neo finally lowered her blade from his cheek. She let the lamp slide down, still faintly hanging off the steel. She glanced at her Scroll, thinking on what to ask him, now that he'd opened the floor.
"I don't know what Salem's promised you," Oscar continued, "But I saw someone else sell himself to her once already, at Haven."
Haven… Mistral: when she first saw this boy and began to wonder.
"She strung him along for a while, but once she had no more need for him she left him to her Grimm," Oscar explained. "Just…"
He didn't have to say it. Neo already knew what he was getting at.
Cinder unleashed the Grimm at Beacon. She sent the White Fang to terrorize the populace and used a computer virus to turn Atlesian robots against their masters.
She sent Neo to free Roman and hijack the military's ships, to sow further chaos and destruction and draw even more Grimm…
This boy's talk of gods and ancient humans went in one ear and out the other. But the thought of someone powerful eliminating a loose end, or leaving a subordinate behind to fend for themselves once they'd served their purpose… that Neo understood.
It was why she'd gone after Cinder. It was why she'd been willing to let Yang Xiao Long and Ruby Rose slip through her fingers when she'd been promised fresher meat.
Only for Cinder to promise her revenge and Neo to go along again… once again accepting a pact with the same woman who'd sent Roman as a vanguard to draw the Grimm to destroy a Hunstman academy, knowing he'd be caught in the crossfire and she'd go chase her own goal…
Just as Cinder did now, looking for a Maiden to kill while Neo went to retrieve this powerless trinket…
"I don't know everything that happened between you and my friends before," Oscar conceded, "But I've been on the outs with them before. I… for a while there, I thought they'd cast me out. None of them trusted me; none of them said more than two words to me. But we found… something, some way to move past that."
Neo instantly whirled her gaze back to him. Was he suggesting-?
That she should just let bygones be bygones after they killed-
Oscar paused his speech again. He waited for Neo to act: to ask him a question, to raise her eyebrow… maybe even to finally tire of the parley and stab him.
Just watching her, giving her time to think.
… they hadn't killed Roman. The Grimm had.
She saw Ruby Rose broken, defeated at Roman's feet before a monster descended and swallowed him whole. The same monster Cinder and her master wanted unleashed on the innocent turned against them… if not by design, then not enough of an accident to bother her.
It was so much easier to simply hate Ruby Rose, and focus on the thought of killing her. It was why she endured Cinder's smug visage, her barking orders, her constant delay of offering Neo her reward…
Neo turned to her Scroll again, looking at the message she'd typed. They could just… keep talking. She could ask him, and actually believe the answers he provided her.
The only person in all the world she thought would be honest with her.
Neo put her Scroll back in her pocket and lowered her parasol, letting the lamp slip off the surface of the blade and fall into her hand. She sheathed her blade and offered the dull relic to the boy.
Oscar paused, his arms slowly sliding back into place from up in the air. He tentatively reached out to accept it, gentle in retrieving it from Neo's palm.
"Are you sure…?" Oscar inquired.
Neo shook her head. She wasn't sure about anything now. She had finally seen it, she had finally known for certain what happened to Roman… and knowing hadn't made things any easier for her. It'd just made things even more complicated than simply chasing down one person, endlessly pursuing simple revenge.
No, that wasn't all she did. Sometimes she stopped to remind herself she was alive..
Neo looked up at him, uncharacteristically cautious. She reached her now free palm up to his cheek, inspecting his skin, checking to see if she'd actually scratched him when her fervor got the better of her. Once she was confident she hadn't pierced his skin, she just… left her hand pressed on his cheek, feeling the warmth under her palm.
He had freckles. So very hard to see in the dark…
Oscar became increasingly tense. "Wait…"
She moved closer to him, setting her parasol aside and sliding her hand under his arm, wrapping around his waist.
He was still holding her gaze. Still seeing her, undisguised.
He was more afraid of her now than when she'd held a blade to him. Neo could hardly blame him… this was far more dangerous.
"You put a camera in here?" Weiss inquired, watching her mother cycle through the displays on her Scroll.
"I put them in every room of the house," Willow clarified. "For our safety, in case I ever needed to-"
Willow let the thought hang in the air. Weiss understood: Willow may have been taken to drink, but she'd never been foolish. She may have once been deceived by Jacques Schnee, but dulling her senses hadn't quite dulled her wits. She knew what kind of man she'd married.
"...you haven't come back to stay, have you?" Willow wondered.
"No," Weiss firmly replied.
Willow smiled sadly. "Good."
A tear dotted her eye. Weiss awkwardly averted her gaze, giving her mother a chance to save face.
The smile left her, but Willow composed herself. She had barely a sniffle when she continued, handing Weiss the Scroll with all the relevant security camera footage. "A man came by. I'm afraid your father may be involved in something more dangerous than he realizes."
Weiss looked at the recording. Her father in his office, sitting a cross from a thin, weedy man in a brown coat and a mustard yellow shirt, with a thick mustache. The volume was low, but she could already infer some sort of unsavory business proposition awaited…
Willow collected her bottle and headed away. "No matter what happens, Weiss… please don't forget about your brother."
That came out of nowhere. Weiss -flabbergasted- replied: "Whitley wants nothing to do with me."
Willow stopped at the door of the office, turning to glance back at her daughter. "Of course not. You left him alone… with us."
Weiss was given pause by the gentle reminder. But before she had the chance to reply, her mother was already gone. Weiss quickly turned her attention back to the footage, trying to piece the thin man who'd visited her father's office so late at night.
"Who are you…?" Weiss wondered, idly going through the footage… before exiting her father's office and heading down the hall, listening to the recording. She only knew the thin man's first name -Arthur- but it seemed he'd successfully swayed her father to give him council access… in return for giving Jacques his council seat. A corrupt bargain…
She had something substantive, even if she didn't know the culprit. General Ironwood -or one of the other councilors- likely would be able to fill in the blanks. At the very least they had a face and a first name to go on. At the very least she had her father entertaining an offer to subvert the will of the people and install himself.
When Weiss headed for the staircase back to the first floor she passed the door to her brother's room. She paused for a moment by Whitley's closed door, wondering if he'd successfully managed to change out of his wine-drenched garbs or if he was still uncomfortably soaked…
She thought of her mother's sad, rueful reminder.
She thought of Oscar reminding her that she had more family than it sometimes appeared… and there were some among them she could still talk to.
Weiss glanced down at the grand hall. The party still seemed in full swing…
Weiss placed the second Scroll at her side and drew her left hand to knock on the wooden frame of Whitley's door. She waited a moment, listening for some sign of his presence.
Maybe he used the excuse of needing to change to duck out from the party. Maybe he'd follow after their mother and pretend he wasn't feeling well and stay sequestered away from the pomp and circumstance.
Weiss looked down at the Scroll her mother gave her. When Weiss presented it to General Ironwood and the council, her father would be in some trouble. At the very least he'd face some ramifications for rigging an election.
There'd be fallout. It'd affect Whitley harder than anyone else in their family…
Weiss stepped away from the door and headed down the stairs. She wanted to quickly regroup with her friends before she presented the evidence of her father's duplicity. But on her way down to the grand hall, she took out her own Scroll and composed a message.
She thought on the wording. She tried not to be too whimsical -or too formal- but she wanted to give him…
Not a warning. Not pity. More… sympathy. Some sympathy.
I'm about to confront father about something, she typed. Something big. Something that's going to hurt us -our family.
It's not about you. It's bigger than that. It's bigger than all of us. I'm just sorry you'll be caught up in it.
Hope you're doing better after your spill.
Her index finger hovered over the 'send' option. She mulled simply deleting it all and saving any thoughts on Whitley for a better time.
But she did ultimately send the message. She didn't know if he'd notice it or how he'd react. She just… wanted to spare him a thought, if only long enough to finish descending a staircase.
She saw her teammates all clustered together in one corner of the party. Not exactly an ideal formation to keep track of Weiss's movements, but perhaps they needn't have bothered. She had the intel she sought and it didn't seem as though anyone noticed her departure…
"Hey," Weiss greeted, holding up the Scroll her mother gave her. "I found what we need. It looks like my father was-"
When she called out to them, the other three initially looked up at her, only to very suddenly avert their gazes. All three of them, simultaneously.
Weiss paused, raising an eyebrow. "What?"
Yang was the brave one, stepping forward and meeting her eye. "So… not that we didn't have more important stuff to do, buuuuuut Ruby might have told us about what you told her about Oscar…"
Weiss was thunderstruck. "What?"
Yang glanced back at Blake. Weiss followed her and saw Blake given an affirmative nod.
Yang coughed. "And… well, I wanted to tell you something else. About Oscar… and… uh… me."
"What?!"
"General," Camilla began diplomatically, but quickly cut to the chase. "Since the day you were appointed Headmaster there have been Atlesians who were skeptical of one man holding two council seats."
"Yes, which is exactly why we have checks and balances," Ironwood argued.
Sleet did not share his colleague's tact. "We're supposed to, but lately you've been running roughshod all over them, making unilateral decisions without us."
"Councilman, I never intended-"
"What people intend and what they do aren't always the same, General," Sleet dryly replied.
The door to the dining room swung open. One of Jacques' servers approached him, leaning over his shoulder to whisper something. "Hm?" Jacques inquired, before speaking in hushed tones, "What? For how long?" Another few whispers from his attendant. "My authorization?! Check it again!"
His attendant hurried out of the room. Sleet glanced back at Jacques, raising an eyebrow. "Councilman Schnee…?"
Jacques tensed up at being addressed. He nervously reached out his hand, before abruptly pulling it back to adjust his tie, trying to compose himself. "Um… yes, I agree- uh, agree with everything that was -uh- just said. No… uh, no further questions."
Robyn blinked, staring at him a few seconds before turning her gaze -and her ire- back to Ironwood. "I'm not quite done yet. You're afraid of something, General… aren't you?"
"I think that's pretty obvious, Ms. Hill," Ironwood answered. "I'm trying to prevent Atlas from becoming another Beacon; another Haven."
"Yet you don't trust your own council to help you," Robyn reminded him. "Operating in secret? These are the actions of somebody who's hiding something."
"I'm not hiding anything," Ironwood replied, quickly turning defiant.
Robyn got up from her seat. "Let's put it to the test then."
She offered him her hand. "You're all aware of my Semblance: let's settle it here and now, General Ironwood."
Ironwood looked at her hand, then the other councilors. Jacques was still shifting nervously, his left hand palming his face.
"Here and now," Robyn repeated, idly waving her hand.
Her Semblance could reveal whether he told the truth. No doubt the first thing Robyn would ask was what the Amity Colosseum was for.
If Salem's spies had reached them, they would have something to target and undo all his efforts. Or Jacques could simply undermine him out of spite.
He wanted to tell them. But he'd already been taken unaware time and time again.
"General?" Camilla asked.
Aside from a handful of serving staff, there were only Clover, three elected councilors and one woman he was reasonably confident wasn't responsible for the murder of her own supporters present. Winter and Penny were just outside. If Salem had ears among them, surely he'd have an inkling by now.
But he'd suffered setback after setback in pursuing Amity, and now Jacques Schnee wanted all the details… he may not have been opposed to reestablishing communications with the rest of Remnant, but he'd no doubt prioritize his company interests and not be at all interested in Salem and the threat she posed.
Salem… another secret he wasn't sure the council would be ready for… if they weren't advancing Salem's interests, then learning about the danger she posed may have made them more insular and isolated, and unwilling to announce to the world their opposition to an immortal witch with a legion of monsters at her command.
Ironwood continued to stare at Robyn's hand. If he revealed himself now, somehow the information would get out… Salem would cut his knees out from him before he crossed the finish line.
Jacques, now much more composed, cleared his throat. "Well, if you've nothing more to say, General… I'd ask my fellow councilors if they're ready to proceed."
"Unfortunately, yes," Sleet agreed. "General, now that the full council has been assembled, we'll vote on this Amity project of yours. We'll see if it's in the best interests of the kingdom of Atlas. Since you're unable to share the particulars of the project…"
He left the thought for Ironwood to complete himself. He already knew what awaited.
Robyn scoffed and withdrew her hand, walking back to her seat. Jacques hoisted his wine glass, regaining some of his confidence. "Well then, James… looks like it's finally time for you to bow to the will of the majority."
Salem watched the automated defenses shut down, her Grimm armada passing by one ship and turret and recon drone after another. Atlas' early warning systems had been deactivated by Arthur's virus, just as he promised… using his stooge in the council's access to remove the impediments. Her force slipped right past their early warning system, clearing the first hurdle completely unnoticed.
Hazel stepped into her viewing chamber. "Your Grace."
Salem only peered out of the corner of her eye. He'd changed from his more casual attire into something more combat-suited. He'd also cut his hair very short, removing all the flecks of gray from sight. He looked much younger… and she did not care for it.
"What is it?" Salem inquired, not turning her head.
"We should be in range of their CCT by now," Hazel explained. "Emerald wants to try and contact Cinder."
Still the protective instinct for the girl. That at least, Salem would always appreciate.
She reminded herself not to dwell on it. They had more important matters to attend to. "No," Salem flatly replied. "We still have several hours until we reach the kingdom. Tell Cinder's little pets to be patient. When we do make contact, they will hear my voice… and my voice alone."
She was above him -above all her subjects- again. She would provide him a gentle reminder of her… detachment, as befit her station.
Hazel bowed his head. "Yes, my Queen."
He left her alone. Salem turned her attention back to the skies, and the floating city in the distance.
She entertained one more thought: she hoped Hazel spoke softly to the girl. She hoped he would be gentle even when Salem commanded him to be stern.
It was the last thought she'd allow herself. He had suited up for battle. She should prepare herself to do the same.
One more night. Then at last she'd reveal her hand.