Chapter Eighteen
Oscar had been shocked when the general had delivered his offer. Go to the front lines and die, or work with the other soothsayers up in the imperial district and try to say a war. Granted, Ironwood had clearly stated that he wouldn't make Oscar do that, but Oscar didn't need a reader to see that's what the general was angling towards.
He couldn't do it.
He just couldn't.
But he couldn't survive on the lack of lien that was coming in as it stood. Even with Leo being generous enough to take a quarter of the rent off for the winter months… Even with the vegetables he'd been saving and storing all season… it wouldn't be enough.
Oscar got off the horse at Higanbana, the crow on his shoulder nipping affectionately at his ear. Qrow had insisted that a crow always come with him, in case he needed to send word quickly. With a sigh, he thanked Armin and adjusted his mask to walk the well traveled path to Ozpin's room in the infectious ward.
To his surprise, Oscar came in to see a nurse feeding Ozpin. Progress!
"Oz!"
The nurse held up a red waxed-gloved hand. "Stay back," she said. "At least until I finish feeding him and get his mask back on."
"Oh... uh…"
She gave a soft smile. "You're his usual morning visitor?"
"Um… yes? I'm his apprentice."
She went back to feeding his father. "He's not really awake," she explained. "He's in a waking coma. With it enough to eat, which is good. He can't afford to lose any more weight. But he's non-responsive."
"I don't care," Oscar declared, "this is the best news since he got here!"
"It is a good sign. But the fever is still present."
And Ozpin's magic was open. Oscar could see his eyes glowing brightly. He moved closer, but the nurse cut him off again.
"He needs his mask," she insisted. "I'm completely covered, you're not. I doubt he'd want his apprentice to get backbreaker."
Oscar looked away, embarrassed. "How do his eyes look to you?" he asked.
"Fevered," she replied. "I've never seen such fever bright eyes."
Right. She didn't have enough magic in her to see the glow. Or at least not enough to recognize that it wasn't the fever. Oscar just waited patiently. He glanced at the clock, briefly, seeing that he wasn't going to get as much time as he wanted. The nurse kept slowly feeding Ozpin.
"You can still talk to him," she said gently. "I think it helps."
"I want to update him on a few things," he said. But they were private. His research into makers, the dense reading that he'd been struggling through, the state of their finances.
The general's offer.
Oscar refrained from rubbing his face, not feeling comfortable to do that in the infectious ward. Instead, he sat down by the wall, pulled out a paper and a grease-stick, writing an update for Qrow. No doubt he'd be delighted with the news. Ruby, at least, would be cheering. So would Yang.
Splashes of water had him looking up and he saw the nurse had set aside the tray of food and was washing Ozpin's face and the particles of food that had dripped down his chin and neck to his chest.
Brothers, it hurt to see him like this, even though this was better than unconscious.
The nurse put the mask back on, and turned to him. "You can talk to him now. Remember, keep your distance."
Oscar nodded and once the nurse was gone, he walked over and put his palms over Ozpin's. His father's magic was always so strong, but after five weeks of this, he'd gotten rather good at closing the magic. Ozpin's eyes stopped glowing, resuming their normal warm brown, but they just stared at nothing. Oscar sat at the foot of Oz's bed, and smiled, despite himself. His wrists and arms were unnaturally thin, his frame looked bony, skeletal.
"So, awake but not awake?" Oscar asked softly. "Do you need your usual morning tea? It looks like they've taken the splints off your arm and leg, so I think it's safe to say your bones are doing well." Oscar leaned over to add that to his note to Qrow. "I know you're still suffering through the fever, but Dr. Polendina says that it's taking longer to take hold because they keep draining the acid from your knee. Given that you're in a waking coma now, I think it's safe to say your head wound is improving somehow."
Ozpin gave a soft hum and blinked.
"Oz?"
… Nothing. Right. "Let's see, you'd be saddened by the state of our finances. I already told you that Mr. Lionheart has agreed to lower the rent for the winter. It's not a lot, but we'll need it. Prices for meat are still going up. They went up another five lien yesterday. I won't be able to afford it this winter."
Blink, turn of head.
"Uh, what else...Mr. Branwen's niece, the one studying to be a crowmaster, made some sort of milestone yesterday. I don't really understand it, but, good for her. Mr. Branwen was incredibly proud."
Another head turn and some sort of noise from the throat.
Oscar's eyes watered. For all that a waking coma seemed better than what they'd been dealing with, it might just be more painful.
Then Ozpin's eyes started to glow and Oscar reached forward again with a heavy sigh. He kept talking.
As usual, he washed up thoroughly after exiting the infectious ward and made his way down to the stables. However, Armin wasn't there. The horses were still stabled. Oscar sighed and looked to the horse he had ridden in. He glanced at the crow on his shoulder.
"Sorry," he apologized. "It's going to be a minute before I can send you home."
The crow gave a soft little caw, nipping at his hair.
Oscar opened the stall and led the horse out. He started checking the saddle and straps, as he'd learned since he'd started riding up to the hospital when Armin pointed out he wasn't very good at checking things for safety. Once he was sure things were good, he pulled out some seed for the crow, since it had been a long morning so far. He was probably going to be late for his one appointment for the day at this rate.
"Ah, hello there young man."
Startled, Oscar jumped, the crow on his shoulder angrily cawing and hopping over to the horse.
"Oh, um!" Oscar looked over. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't see you there."
The woman was short, steel gray hair, brown eyes, and skin like an old leather boot, sitting astride a massive horse. She sat proud in her Mistralan uniform, heavily decorated it looked like, and somehow seeming taller than her actual stature. Behind her were two aides, sitting stiffly at attention on their own horses. "I had heard that a young man regularly visited the hospital. Tell me," she ordered, "how old are you?"
Caught completely by surprise, utterly flustered, and vaguely intimidated, Oscar stuttered, "Ah, um, sixteen, ma'am."
The woman's eyes sparkled. "Excellent! I'd thought all draftsmen from the district had fled. You, boy, are now mine. Welcome to the army."
"What?" Oscar asked. "No, I can't! My master's in the hospital here, I need to-"
"Posh now. Ap-ap-ap," she silenced him. "No refusals. You have been drafted. You will now come with me. I see you have a horse. Excellent. It will be commandeered for the war effort."
"Commander," Armin said, stepping in from a side door and saluting. "You are unable to draft this young man." He looked to Oscar. "Sorry I'm late," he murmured.
"I beg your pardon, Lieutenant, but as the Commander in charge of recruitment, I outrank you," she said coldly.
"That is very true ma'am," Armin said, standing in front of Oscar. "I am merely pointing out an oversight. This young man is a soothsayer apprentice."
"Hmph. Unlikely," she retorted condescendingly. "I've not seen him with that foreigner general. He's not in uniform."
Oscar pulled out the paper he'd been writing on from earlier hurriedly pulling out his greasestick.
"He has been given special dispensation to check on an injured soothsayer here at the hospital, Commander," Armin continued. "You know that General Ironwood has priority on-"
I'm being drafted. I'll contact you when I can. Oscar wrote in a hurry.
"You are not following the chain of command, lieutenant," the old commander said harshly. "I am ordering you to bring this young man with us."
Oscar gave the paper to the crow and let it go. The crow immediately flew off.
"Boy! What did you just do! Who did you just contact?"
"M-my family!" Oscar replied.
"Hmph. If they show up demanding to see you the answer will be 'no'. You've got training to do. Come, let's get you signed up and assigned to the barracks."
Armin stood very stiffly. "Commander, permission to depart to my special duties."
"Denied," the small woman replied. "You don't work for that foreigner, you work for the Emperor. You're only attached to that foreign filth as a kind gesture. His little project is useless and making us look like complete fools. You'd do better to stay with our own kind." She turned crisply. "Now let's go."
"Come on, Mr. Pine," Armin said softly. "I'll get word to the General. You'll be fine."
Oscar doubted it. The commander lady had them mount and they left the hospital, riding up the mountain another mille to… Oscar gaped. The Imperial Palace?
The stables were massive, three levels high, hundreds of people running around and doing jobs Oscar couldn't even guess at. The Commander woman and her aides handed their horses off to one of the stable boys and another took Oscar's and Armin's. Oscar looked around, amazed at the hundreds of horses that were stabled there.
"Don't gape, boy," the woman growled. "Hurry up and keep up."
Oscar shook his head and hurried after her. Armin stayed by his side and leaned over. "I sent word to the General," he said softly.
Turning, Oscar gaped.
Armin gave a soft smile. "Paid a stableboy. You'll be fine."
The commander and her aides brought Armin and Oscar to a compound across from the Imperial Palace, just as stately and massive, if plainer than the palace by comparison.
Barely.
Inside was a massive entryway, grand stairs leading up to a second level, another clearly above that, huge windows letting in so much light, and Mistralan military crisply moving from one destination to another.
Armin gave Oscar a small nudge and he had to stop looking at the grand opulence around him to follow the small Commander and her aides into some sort of office off the entryway.
"It seems we have another member for the draft," she announced. "Not every noble and merchant has been able to hide their children." She gave him a cold smile. "Step forward, young man. Name and apprenticeship. My staff will get you settled into the barracks and ready for training."
Oscar gulped. "O… Oscar Pine, ma'am." Then he shook his head. He couldn't keep stuttering through this. He was sixteen. If he was apparently old enough to fight, he was old enough to say no. He took a deep breath, remembered how calmly Ozpin handled any military who came to the office. "I am Oscar Pine. I am apprenticed to Master Ozpin Ozma. I refuse to fight."
"Tch. One of those pacifist fools," the woman scoffed. "Some rich parent made sure you were educated in such philosophical drivel, eh? Well war is here and if you want to keep that stupidity, you should have hid out in the provinces with your family. You'll fight now."
Oscar held firm. "I refuse to fight."
"And you won't be," said a new voice. General Ironwood came in, face cold and flat, glaring at the woman. "Commander Cordovin," he said, "I believe we have discussed this thoroughly. All soothsayers are mine."
"Hmph. You haven't snatched up this one, clearly," she retorted haughtily. "He's not in uniform, he was milling about the hospital. He's no soothsayer."
"Might we discuss this in private," Ironwood said in cold fury.
"He's mine, General. I'll hear you, but he's mine." With a snap of her heels, she stormed out.
Ironwood turned to Armin. "Keep him here," he ordered.
"Yessir!" Armin saluted. "Come on," he said. "We'll wait in the entryway while the General sorts this out."
Oscar sat down by Armin stiffly, anxiety filling him and overtaking his thoughts.
He would not fight.
He would not fight.
He wasn't sure how long they stayed there. He was starting to get hungry.
Then one of the aides of that Cordovin woman came down to summon them.
They were led up to an office on the third floor, overlooking what appeared to be training grounds with thousands of drafted being put through formations and drills.
Cordovin was sitting at her desk, arms crossed and frowning severely, while Ironwood stood in front of her desk, looking stiff.
"Hello, Mr. Pine," Ironwood said gently, but was cut off.
"Not a word, General, you are only in my office upon my sufferance." Cordovin stood and stepped to the front of the desk. "Soothsayers do belong to the General," she said stiffly. "But I need proof that you're a soothsayer."
"I've only been training for just over a year ma'am."
The woman narrowed her eyes. "Do I look like an idiot? I'm not asking for a reading. You're too early in an apprenticeship to be good at anything, soothsayer or not. But I'd imagine you've been memorizing patterns."
Oscar kept his eyes on Cordovin, but he spared a glance at Ironwood, who only gave the most imperceptible nod.
"I have studied patterns, ma'am."
Cordovin nodded and snapped her fingers. The aide who hadn't come to collect them reached into her desk to pull out a sketch of some kind and brought it over to the Commander.
"I was once given a reading, decades ago. It hasn't guided me wrong yet." She gave a cold, victorious smile. "Interpret this."
She stepped forward and handed him the sketch.
Armin peeked over Oscar's shoulder, but Oscar's eyes were taking in the sweeps and swirls. It was a fair imitation of what a sand table could produce, but it was fake. There were no patterns, not even a facsimile of one. Similar to certain patterns, but not accurate. Blinking, Oscar took a moment to open his magic and check to make sure he wasn't making a mistake.
Finally, he looked up to her. "I can't interpret this."
Cordovin frowned horribly and Ironwood's smile was smug victory.
"It's a fake," Oscar continued. "It looks like several patterns, enough to pretend there's a story there. More likely you hired someone to make this to trick people trying to avoid the draft by claiming to be soothsayers."
The small woman glared at Ironwood. "Take the brat," she growled. "And never stop me from my recruitment duties again!"
Ironwood only smiled peacefully. "We'll be on our way."
The three of them left.
"Lieutenant," Ironwood said as they crossed to the Palace, "kindly fetch a messenger crow. I'm sure Mr. Pine's family will want to know of his drafting."
Oscar followed along, feeling iron bars all around him.
What choice did he really have?
If this was what business looked like when times were tough, Qrow idly wondered what business looked like when everyone had money. His cheap prices and loyal crows made a lot of people come to him for messages, and now that other crowmasters knew he had a aviary messages were coming in as well as going out, and he was confident he could feed at least two of the kids through the winter, three with the income from Yang's work as a day-laborer for as long as it lasted, and probably four with Oscar's intermittent clients. Never in his life - even when he and Clover were together - had he ever had this much money.
His old master had sought him out, hearing he was back with the crows, and instead of scorn for all his wasted years as a drunk, his old master had praised him for getting back to the craft and giving a few subtle pointers on how to streamline the work. The result was there was now a small, made-from-scraps stand at the base of the ramp in the back common area for clients to come in and either drop off or explain their messages. Ruby was summarily put in charge - Valean accent or not she was infinitely better with people than Qrow.
Ruby had managed to successfully send a crow to Tai back in Vale, her longest distance traveled for a message, and Qrow treated all of them to actual meat for dinner. Yang had less luck with work, no one understood she was still strong as an ox with only one arm, but Maria proved to be a help there, conveniently asking her to stock up on large loads of supplies and people in the neighborhood watched in awe as she shucked hundred kirga grain sacks on her back one armed without breaking a sweat.
Oscar, though, he was still the concern. Kid was having a time of it: the only one able to visit Oz and then working himself to the bone either researching the white witch bitch or working with a client. Kid came home prattling off theories about soothmaking and research, always sounding a little more sure of himself, a little closer to understanding what he could do. All of it breezed over Qrow, but that didn't mean he wasn't doing his own work.
The autumn air was cool, he was in his old laborer gi and zubon, his old jacket over both and some crumpled socks he'd unearthed from somewhere. The sun kept it from being cold, but any shadow he stepped in had him shivering. Winter would leave him freezing his ass off and he never looked forward to it.
"So you mean to tell me this bird traveled across two continents to see your father?"
"Yes, Weiss, that's exactly what I'm saying! It was so amazing! Not just that Uncle Qrow trusted me to do it but that it actually worked!"
Qrow snorted as he came down the ramp. "Not much of a thing when you see how good she is," he said, leaning against the rail and rubbing at his feet. "She's a natural."
"It's not just that, Uncle Qrow," Ruby said brightly. "I've never seen birds as loyal to their crowmaster as yours."
Qrow shrugged. "I've been up there sleeping my worst days off, they've known me for years and I never asked anything of them."
"Aw, it's cute you say that," Ruby said, playfully reaching up to pat his head. "It's more than that. You have the gift. My master in Vale told me some people are born to be crowmasters. Your master, when he came, he said the same thing."
"Yeah, whatever," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "What's the princess doing here?"
Weiss flushed, sputtering for a second before crossing her arms. "I am not a princess," she said primly. Ruby snorted and patted her shoulder. "I'm here to check on a friend. I understand that winter is going to be hard this year and I wanted to make sure everything would be fine."
Qrow leveled a long stare at her. "Are you gonna worry about where you get your food this winter?" he asked.
Weiss frowned. "No," she said.
"Even with the Vale army on the other side of the mountain range?"
"We still have clear passage to Argus and can take a ship back to Atlas," she said like she was reciting one of Oscar's textbooks. And then her face fell. "I'd rather not do that, though," she said. "That would mean leaving Ruby. And Yang. And going home to… I'd rather stay here with Winter."
"Even though the war's at our back door?"
Weiss looked up, fire in her eyes. "Even though the war's at our back door," she repeated. "I want to be there for Ruby and everyone I've met here."
Hn. Good kid. Qrow reached out and ran his calloused finger through her white blonde hair, making her shriek in surprise and indignation, before going back up to the roof. The sun was higher in the sky now, no longer the crack of dawn, and the light finally started to warm him. He glanced up the mountain, hoping the kid and Oz were doing okay. It sucked that Oscar was the only one who could go up and see Oz, a part of his heart ached that he couldn't just tell everyone about the day before the fall, when the two of them had fallen together in more than just a bed. But if Oscar was right, and the white witch bitch wanted to curse him, too… well, Qrow knew how to lay low.
He thought back to that day, going down for company and watching Oz work the mortar and pestle with no idea how his pumping the pestle up and down to mash the herbs looked. It brought a smile to his face. Brothers-damned tease and he didn't even know it. And then his abrupt kiss and admission, and then after…
He shook his head, straightening and going back to the birds.
As midmorning started to rise he traded with Ruby to get warm and drop off the messages for the families on the fourth floor. There was already a line of people with messages tracing back, and Qrow went through the standard questions: Who and where? How many pages or weight was the message? You do know that that prefecture is very far away and costs extra, right? He wrote it all down on paper Ruby had brought with her from Vale. The form was useful, and Qrow had eventually sent Yang to the printer to order a stack of them. He didn't really understand why he needed to track messages like this but Ruby insisted it all made sense for tax reasons. Qrow was dubious, he hadn't done taxes in years, but Ruby gleefully told him she would take care of it.
Jury was still out on if that was a good idea or not but he knew to play to his strengths.
"Living the high life I see."
Qrow looked up and saw his next client wasn't, actually, a client. "Robyn," he said with some surprise. "I didn't think you'd show up in person."
She smirked, blond tail swishing. "And I didn't think you'd ever message me again."
"Hang on," he said, "We'll talk on the roof. Hey Ruby!"
He quickly traded places with his niece, bringing up the stack of messages to attach to the appropriate crows and send them off. Robyn followed him to the aviary, eying the greenhouse briefly. "You still got food in there?" she asked.
"For now," Qrow said. "But we all know the uniforms are coming. It's a matter of time. The gardener's trying to harvest everything he can and hide it away so we can keep the building fed through the winter."
Robyn smiled softly, uncrossing her arms. "You look like you're doing well."
"I don't know about that," he said, pinning messages to crows and rubbing their heads and necks before letting them go, enjoying how warm his fingers were after doing it. "But I've been sober for just over a year, give or take. Having my nieces to take care of helps me stay that way."
"As I live and breathe," Robyn said, leaning against the corner of the aviary. "It's good to see you finally on your feet."
Qrow sniffed in the chilly air, rubbed his nose. "Did a lot of growing," he said. "Looks like you did, too."
"We all did, didn't we?" She shook her head with a snort. "We were such dumb kids."
"We were all such starving kids," Qrow corrected. "Streets messed us up in a million ways, and it's only now that we can pretend to be better people."
"I'm not pretending," Robyn said, but with no bite. "I'm just trying to protect as many people near me as possible."
"Can't argue with that," Qrow said, sending off another crow. "That's why I messaged you. Someone in the building is in a bind."
"Well, I don't know what you expect me to do," Robyn answered, shrugging her shoulders. "But what's the problem?"
"You know the soothsayer above the Crow's Nest?"
"Know him? His readings sent three girls to me: May, Fiona, and Joanna all fell in with me because of him." She smiled fondly. "Never met the guy, but anyone who's had a reading from him in the last few years swears up and down by him. And the bartender at Crow's Nest speaks highly of him, the few times I've been there. Wait, don't tell me he's the problem?"
Qrow sent out another bird. "He took a fall a few weeks ago," he explained, "cracked his head open and relapsed with the new disease, the backbreaker."
"Fye and filth," Robyn said, eyes widening. "The backbreaker takes months to burn through."
"Yeah, well," Qrow said, turning to face Robyn fully, gauging her reaction. "He didn't fall. He was pushed."
Blank stare as the words sunk in, but his old friend stood to her full height, hands fisting at her sides, horror crossing her features. "What?" she said.
"A bitch came to his office, they fought, he went to report her, and she pushed him down the stairs. His office is on the fourth floor."
"Dark brother's filth, why would someone do that? To a soothsayer?" Robyn gaped. "That's not right!"
"That's why I need you," Qrow said, voice grave. "I got a description of what she looks like, and I got a knife to deliver some street justice."
"Wait, you're going to go after this bitch?"
Qrow nodded, eyes dark.
"Qrow," Robyn said. "We aren't kids anymore. You can't just run up to someone and beat them up for wronging you. The burrough, the city, will never get better if we answer every injustice with violence." She leaned forward, shaking a finger. "We've been through this more than once, personal vendettas can't be reason enough to go after someone - and I know you too well. You wouldn't even be interested in this if it wasn't personal. Why are you even…" Her eyes widened again, and she realized the truth.
"Don't spread it around," Qrow said. "The bitch that pushed him has her sights on me, and right now no one knows we're even together."
"How serious is it?" she asked, reaching up and touching his arm.
"... better than Clover," he said.
She hugged him then, suddenly and warmly and tightly, and Qrow, forced to act like this wasn't eating him every single brothers-damned day, started to break. He clutched her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He wasn't a crier, tears had burned out of him with Clover, but the reality of the situation finally swept over him and Light Brother's fye he wanted a drink. He wanted Oz in his arms, he wanted to lay next to him in bed again, he wanted to see Oscar smile again, he wanted so many things and nobody knew outside of Oscar and the girls.
And now Robyn.
"Stay strong," she said, squeezing even tighter before letting go. She kept in his personal space, staring him right in the eye as she spoke. "Don't fall into a bottle - I know how hard that is. I was there once, too, and some days it's all I can do to stay sane, but you have to keep it together long enough to get through this. I'll help you. I'll help you find the bitch."
"Thank you, Robyn," he said, a little shaky. "I didn't know who else to go to."
"What's this bitch look like?"
He gave her the details he knew: white hair and skin, red eyes. He passed on the bitch was a soothmaker. Robyn didn't know the term, and he barely understood it all himself, but he said it was like a curse maker, the reverse of a soothsayer, and that if she knew any detail about him he'd be cursed, too. Robyn didn't follow it all, same as him, but swore up and down she'd have the entire borough combed end to end.
"I might get the other burroughs, too," she said, pulling at her tail. "There's enough of us that know the soothsayer, or respect him enough, to put in an effort."
"I'm afraid she's bolted," Qrow admitted, "But with the Valeans on the other side of the mountain and blocking all points south, her only way out is through the north, and security there is tighter than an Imperial Court's topknot."
"If she's in a cabin in the woods there's not much to do," Robyn agreed. "But if she's in the city we can narrow down where. Do you know anyone in the mountains themselves?"
"I'm still reaching out," Qrow said. "We'll see who gets back to me."
"Okay. Let me know if anything changes."
As they said that, Oscar's crow swooped into the aviary, an hour early. The bird cawed and spread its wings in an anxious swoop, shifting on its perch. "Come here, girl," Qrow said, "Let's see what word the kid sent about Oz." Robyn watched as he unfolded the message.
"Who sent it?"
"Oz's apprentice," Qrow said, knowing that the kid, above all, needed to be kept even safer from the bitch. "He's been checking on him at the hospital every day."
Reading was never Qrow's forte, but he dutifully worked through the words. "Ozpin's eyes are open but he's not all there," he said. "He's eating food though, and that hasn't happened in weeks."
"Oh, good news then?"
"Hang on, this last part is smeared-Brothers of Light and Dark!"
"What?" Robyn demanded. "What happened?"
"That son of a bitch general just drafted Oscar!"
"What? The apprentice? He's old enough to be drafted?" Robyn's ire rose, her tail starting to fluff out in anger. "He's an apprentice! If they lower the draft much more we won't have any skilled workers left after the war's over! What's the Imperial Court thinking?"
"Oh, this isn't the Emperor," Qrow growled, mashing up the message. "This is that Atlesean general they brought in to manage the war."
"Atlas is in the war now?" Robyn demanded. "What's next, Vacuo? This is terrible - we can't have a foreign national telling us how to fight the war - no wonder we've been losing ground left and right! This isn't right - how can the Imperial Court expect the people to stand for this?"
"The same way they expect us to handle everything else," Qrow said, voice dark. "Ignore it."
"We can't stand for this," Robyn said. "If an Atlas general is managing the war it's no wonder we've been losing. I'm running a pamphlet on this, see if the Imperial Court likes having a mob on its doorstep. There will be hell to pay for this! Light Brother's fye, this is insane."
Qrow had other priorities: Oscar had just been drafted, meaning he was about to be pressed under that general's thumb, and he wasn't sure if there was anything he could do to stop it. He followed Robyn out of the aviary as she stormed out. "Ruby!" he said, swooping down the stairs and to the back ramp. "We've got a problem. Oscar just sent word, the military found him and drafted him."
"What?!" Ruby said, and the three people in line at the stand all straightened. "But he's the professor's apprentice! Who's going to visit him in the hospital? What if the professor wakes up all alone?"
Alone? Isolation and misery - that would be just perfect for the curse, and Qrow grit his teeth. "I want you to handle the aviary for a few hours," he said. "I'm going to go… I don't even know where I'm going to go but someone's gotta try and stop this."
"Wait, back up," Weiss was saying, apparently still there. "What's this about Master Ozma's apprentice being drafted?"
Qrow ignored her, following Robyn around the building - she was still spitting fire. Leo. He could go to Leo first, guy said he used to be a litigator, maybe there could be some luck there - guy hated Ironwood, too, that was a bonus. It was a hell of a walk up to the hospital, and that might give him away to the white witch bitch. It was an even longer walk to the Imperial Court, and who even knew if he'd be admitted? Fye and filth, what was he expected to do to stop this? Brothers-damned son of a bitch.
Maria was on the front steps and listening to Robyn's cuss-filled tirade, and with a wave of her walking stick stopped Qrow to the details. He gave them in clipped tones and she was soon cursing in her native Vacuoan. He powered the two blocks to the Crow's Nest and up the four flights to Leo's office, pounding on the door until the graybeard opened.
"Do you mind?" he said, indignant. "I'm trying to-Qrow, right? If you're here something's happened."
"Did the kid make it here?" Qrow demanded.
"No, he'll be here any minute. Why?"
"No he won't. He just sent a message: he's been drafted."
"What!" Leo lost color, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. "But he's a soothsayer! The general said…!"
"You're a lawyer, right?" Qrow demanded. "Can't you do anything about this?"
Leo frowned, eyes narrowing as he tugged at his beard. "I haven't practiced in a decade," he muttered, "I'd have to… I don't have… and who would…" He shook his head. "I don't know if I can do anything, but I might know some people who can. I'll send some messages. But Qrow, you have to know, the Imperial Court might not hear the case - this is a military matter and the Emperor has the right to ignore challenges if it has to do with the immediate safety of Mistral. And with the war going on it's been triply hard for litigators to make headway on the Court's practices. Moreover-"
"I don't care," Qrow said. "All I care about is making sure Oscar doesn't end up with a bayonet in his gut. I can't do filth but you might, so do it!"
He didn't feel better after talking to such a hesitant Leo, but at least he'd done something, and if he thought of something else he would do that, too. He growled, low in his throat at how little it was. He wanted a drink. He wanted to fight but it wasn't like a bruiser would just show up on his doorstep. Maybe he could spar with Yang when she got home that night, she needed the training and she could take a hit if it came to it. But he had to last that long and he wasn't sure he wouldn't kick a client if they looked cross-eyed at him.
He was in a bit of a haze by the time he made it back to the apartment, brain full of nothing and body full of fight. He almost blew by Maria except she wasn't sitting in her usual spot on the front steps, she was laid out on the sidewalk, sitting up slowly and rubbing her head. What…?
"Maria?" he said, crouching down. "What happened?"
"Qrow! Those damned uniforms came in to take the greenhouse, the bastards. They hit a blind old woman!"
Just what he needed. He bared his teeth, blood firing up as he ran into the apartment building. He could hear Ruby at the top of the stairs, trying to block whoever was up there. "The gardener isn't here to help you with the harvest, if you wait until tonight when he comes back from his apprenticeship I'm sure he'll be very helpful."
"She's Valean. Arrest her."
Those bastards. "Hey!" he shouted from the third floor. "Keep your filthy hands off my niece!"
Four uniforms were crowded around the roof access, any people with messages long since disappeared. Qrow surged up the stairs, the military staring in open surprise to see a new face. He placed himself between Ruby and them, fists balled at his sides and feet evenly spaced apart. "I'm pissed off right now," he said, pretending to be fair. "So I'm gonna give you one chance: walk away."
"This greenhouse has been requisitioned by the authority of the Imperial Court," one of the men said like it was an order, black hair with a pink streak. "All foodstuffs are to be collected and donated without compensation to the war effort."
"And last year you said the same thing," Qrow said, slouching forward, waiting. Baiting. "And last year I kicked your asses. Do you really want to go through it again?"
"Sergeant," one of the others said, but the leader held up a hand.
"I'm not here to start a fight," the sergeant said. "All I want to do is make sure we can eat over the winter. A lot of us starved last year because we didn't get our fair share. You have to know what that's like."
"You're damn right I do," Qrow said. "But your 'fair share' left us bone thin by the time spring came, and this year we have even less, because everything we got gets pulled to help you people. If you say it's not enough then we've got a problem."
The sergeant took a long, deep breath through his nose. "And the Valean?"
"My niece. She's half Mistralan, obviously. She's here to finish her apprenticeship. She has her papers."
"Does that include the new pass the Imperial Court ordered two weeks ago?"
"Pass?" Ruby said. "What pass? I didn't get any message about a pass…"
Sergeant closed his eyes, taking a slow, tired breath. "I'm sorry," he said before turning back to the other three. "Arrest the girl," he ordered.
"Not on my watch you son of a bitch."
Fighting in a stairwell was not ideal, but Qrow was so used to not ideal in his life he didn't even blink. The others couldn't crowd him and he had the advantage of height. They had muskets but couldn't fire through each other. The sergeant moved in martial patterns, sliding in for a flurry of blows aimed for the elbows and shoulders to hamper Qrow's ability to respond. He recognized the style and knew the hips and knees would be coming. Qrow was a grappler, his first priority was getting this guy - obviously with some training, on the ground and in a hold. The other three were stuck on the stairwell and unable to join unless they wanted a long trip down the stairs. There was a brief scuffle for footing, Qrow gave ground not because he was on the defensive but because he needed space to topple the guy. The leader knew how to duck, and managed to sneak in and get a hard hit to Qrow's shoulder, making him grunt.
The followup strike to his hip was what Qrow was expecting, however, and he locked the blow, swinging around and getting the sergeant on the floor, swinging around again and getting a good lock. The entire exchange took maybe fifteen seconds, and the other three uniforms gaped at the quick takedown. Qrow held the choke, teeth bared and eying the others. If one of them was smart they'd lift a musket, and eventually one of them figured that out. Qrow let go, leaving the sergeant gasping for air and stepping on him for emphasis before lunging forward and grabbing the musket, shoving it up and to the ceiling.
It went off, the noise an explosion to Qrow's ears, but he was past the point of caring, spinning the musket out of the idiot's grip and then using it to ram into his gut, leaving him doubled over. Qrow flipped the musket around and aimed it at the other two. Their own firearms were lifted but neither of them looked like they wanted to fire. Brothers, they looked like little kids, and for a second Qrow could see beyond his blood haze.
The sergeant was still struggling to his feet, gasping for air, but the second guy was up quicker, riled now, and tried to attack. Qrow was having none of that, swinging the musket and getting the butt of it straight in the guy's face, breaking two teeth and snapping his head back in a spray of blood.
Then the crows came, the entire murder of them swooping in from the roof and cawing in rage, lifting their talons and clawing at anybody that wasn't Qrow. There were a lot of screams now, not just from the uniforms but from down the hall. A couple of tenants had poked their heads out, staring at the visceral fight going on. Qrow couldn't focus on them for long, however, instead he pointed his musket to the leader with the pink streak, on his knees and ducking under the assault of the crows.
"Get your people out of here, boy," Qrow growled. "You'll get no food here."
"You're going to make us starve over the winter!"
"Kid, we're all starving. Take it up with the Emperor. In the meantime get the filth out of here before I decide to actually get violent."
The sergeant was forced to capitulate, none of them able to handle the crows. The birds followed them down the stairs, and Qrow waited until he heard them exit the building before releasing a breath. Four on one odds, brothers what had he been thinking? He looked up, saw Ruby on the roof grinning and waving. She had released the birds.
"Hell of a thing, half-pint," he said, finally lowering the musket.
"Aw, I couldn't let you have all the fun. You'll have to show some of those moves to Yang and me. Obviously we need to do some training if we're going to defend the building from invading armies."
Qrow snorted, but moved back down the stairs. Maria was there, two crows on her shoulder and moving stiffly, and her head turned to his direction. "Have you ever heard of the word retaliation?" she asked in sour tones.
"Nope," he said with a rakish grin, before the seriousness of the situation settled on his shoulders. "Sorry," he said, "I'm about to give you hell."
"They got the food last year," Maria said, shaking her head. "They'll get the food this year. I don't see what putting up that much of a fight gets you."
She wasn't wrong, but Qrow had been spoiling for a fight, and they were too good a target. He felt better now, less high on his blood, but he also felt worse, because now he had to lay low with Ruby and Yang for a few days and make sure all three of them were extra-special-nice to the neighborhood, ingratiate themselves and remind them that ratting the foreign sisters out would hurt more than help.
And he still hadn't figured out a way to get Oscar home.
Brothers, he needed a drink.
Author's Notes: Things still going wrong left right and center? Yes? Okay, Situation normal.
Oscar is finally caught under Ironwood's thumb, that's sure to go well; Oz is wasting away in his unconsciousness; and the army comes to take the food. Life sucks.
On the upside though, Qrow now has a contact in an old friend: Robyn Hill. She's a side-side character in this fic, but she's a spitfire not matter what fanfic she's in. She's also a good way to ground Qrow without Oz and now even Oscar there to keep him focused. Moreover, unlike Oz she understands what it's like to grow up on the streets and come out on top, she can give Qrow the support he needs. She also has contacts. In this fic she runs a print shop. More on that later.
Oscar feels the bars starting to close in around him, and he now has to figure out how to be in the army and still keep his morals. Speaking of:
Next chapter: Oscar tries to figure out how to be in the army and still keep his morals. We also meed some other soothsayers. Guesses and who that includes?