First entry, undated
I am a traitor.
It's helpful to write it down.
It feels strange to write it down. I can't remember the last time I held a pen.
Staring at the words on paper I can't help but try to justify it... to reevaluate myself and deny what I know to be true.
When I get home I'll be praised for my actions, because I'll execute them flawlessly. That's what I have to do. That's what I can't help but do.
And knowing what's waiting on the horizon reminds me my actions are necessary. Knowing war isn't just possible, but inevitable reminds me why I have to do such terrible things.
A few dead is a tragedy, to be sure. But better a tragedy, better a guilty conscience than the destruction of an entire kingdom. Better a few doubts, better a few sleepless nights than a graveyard... or more likely a pit in the ground to house the dead. There'd be so many.
I know why I'm doing this. I know why it has to be done.
I still find it helpful to write it out.
I am a traitor.
Second entry, the night following the Vytal Festival dance
She took the bait, as I knew she would. And Ozpin rewarded her. She lied right to his face and he indulged her. More than that, he specifically approved her team for a mission that was supposed to be closed off for first years! This blatant favoritism isn't anything new from him, but...
Of course he knows what's going on. And he's not letting anyone else in on the finer details. Such arrogance...
Time is drawing near now. Not sure how much longer I can just sit and wait knowing one morning alarms will sound and Grimm will break through the floor. I'll have to play the fool a while longer.
That's probably the hardest part. I'd like nothing more than to let him know how badly he's been had.
When I have thoughts like those I know I'm missing out on too much sleep.
Addendum
She asked how I was. I played things off well. I told her I was having trouble sleeping. That was true.
She saw through my lies but let me save face. She made a point to remind me I hadn't fooled her, but didn't push it.
I'll miss having her around. I always liked her.
But she's an expendable asset. She always has been... and I think she knows it too.
After the Breach
I asked him who was really behind it. He cast that cocky smirk and said I was looking right at him.
He was more loyal than I expected a rat to be. And talented, I hear... so much so I've kept him alive a while longer.
I'll need a reason for things to go awry, and he's a terrorist. He'll destroy things given the opportunity and now... I have to give him the opportunity.
He attacked too early. Ozpin's students held Vale. The people are scared, to be sure, but more confident that they can be safe watching the Vytal Festival at Beacon given the power they've just demonstrated.
That can work to my advantage. No one expects to be hit twice when the first hit failed so miserably to damage them.
Ozpin's security role was revoked by the council. They've entrusted their safety to an even greater fool.
I should know.
Undated entry
The virus has been in place on my ship since I placed my Scroll down in Ozpin's office. I saw the little chess piece Salem's agent was using; she wasn't subtle at all. She really must think us fools.
And we have to be. We'll be remembered as such.
I left a dangerous criminal on my ship and looked the other way when a soldier too short to pass a physical rode up to join him. I'll have to time things right when they activate the AKs... when their fatal flaw is revealed and we have to take them off the market.
Jacques will be furious. He won't even see the advantage of having an army no one trusts to defend them ordered decommissioned: he won't be able to see past losing his Lien.
The Paladins performed better than expected. The same students who held Vale during the breach failed to defeat two of them. We already had seventy under manufacture and a hundred more ready for deployment... all ordered decommissioned when this is done.
All ordered to be decommissioned... by me.
And when war comes, they'll turn to me, because there is no one better.
And I'll have the largest army in the world at the ready, an army everyone believes I removed at the council's -at the public's- behest.
All because I let Salem and her puppets believe their hack went unnoticed. I've known Arthur Watts for years. I know his handiwork. And he didn't even try to disguise it; he was all too willing to let me know, to hedge his bets.
He knows the importance of it, he knows how this game is played. That's why he's willing to let the world call him 'disgraced'. Why he's able to carry on when he's shunned and berated by his countrymen.
Some historian will ask why I never followed through on the decommission order.
He'll be shouted down by a dozen others who say I did what I had to for the sake of Atlas.
And that's how history will remember me, when all is said and done.
But here, in this single line, I remind myself, one final time:
I am a traitor.
Because that's what I have to be.
Glynda looked up from the tattered pages. "Where did you find it?"
"Fox found it in the ruins of Blue Two," Coco answered. "He said... uh, he said he had some help..."
Glynda narrowed her eyes. "...You don't mean..."
"Yeah," Coco confirmed. "Her."
"Well, why should I believe this is authentic?" Glynda asked. "Considering the source?"
"I don't trust the girl either," Coco assured her. "But if there's anyone who'd have reason to remind the world Roman Torchwick was used in someone else's schemes..."
Glynda looked down at the pages again. She looked past the black charred tips to the mention of sleepless nights and women not fooled but gentle enough not to rub it in.
She felt her fingers tighten on the page.
"Do you think there's any truth to it?" Coco asked, quickly changing the subject from Fox and his former dalliances.
Glynda refocused her attention. "Yes, I do." She sighed. "Because yesterday the Atlesian council issued a communique that they were decommissioning their AKs, and ordered General Ironwood to oversee it."
Glynda set the sheets down on her desk. "And I've heard reports about something going on in Mistral... rumors about Atlas poking ships into their territory... upsetting them, provoking them."
Pretense for war.
As Coco pondered this, Glynda turned her eyes to the ceiling, still reflecting on joining James at night, wondering why he was wearing his uniform in the early morning hours, complaining about his arm acting up.
He was right. He was a traitor.
But not for Salem. Not for survival. For power. For advancement.
Something so much worse than she'd ever expected of him.