The troll is back and imitating me and others in the reviews, this time trying to make it look like I'd attack my own reviewers because obviously that's a thing I'd randomly do from a guest account. Ignore the nonsense.
Cover Art: Mystery White Flame
Chapter 63
Jaune sat glumly in the hold of the Bullhead and pondered how it was possible for a different kind of nausea to eclipse motion sickness. Slouched on the seat with the staff propped against his shoulder and the Relic of Knowledge in his lap, he felt incredibly small and alone. It didn't help that Neo and Jinn were silent, or that the large Nevermore – big, but not big enough to carry all of them at once – cocked its head to the side inquisitively. Roman was in the cockpit piloting their stolen vehicle. Well, if it could be called stolen when he was Headmaster. Maybe `requisitioned` was a better word. That'd soon change once Qrow got the message to everyone else, though.
Bound to happen. Even if Qrow was incapacitated, Glynda would return to her office and find him before long. Sighing, he hunched forward, wishing for the familiar vomiting spree to take him. It would have been easier than what he was currently dealing with.
"Brings back old memories, huh?" Roman called from the cockpit. "You, me and Neo up against some psychotic bitch with more power than sense."
"Yeah." Jaune grinned weakly. "And just like old times, we're going with the most desperate solution."
"If it works, it works."
"If it works. Any sign of the Grimm?"
"Clouds on the horizon," Roman reported. "Despite it being labelled a clear day. If you'll pardon me breaking the mood early, I doubt those are clouds at all."
"Nevermore."
Neo's crooned softly, spreading its wings in the cramped confines. Neo soothed it by stroking its feathers, but the Grimm was still watching the Relics adorning Jaune's body nervously. The lamp on his hip and the staff against his shoulder. It was trying to keep its distance.
"Hmhm." Roman hummed his agreement. "Flying too close is a bad idea. Guess we'll need to land and do this on foot. That won't give us much of a chance to retreat if things go south."
"That's fine," Jaune said. "It's not like retreat was going to be an option anyway." His hand played over the wrapped-up staff. "With all three Relics, we might just stand a chance."
"I know I said to rely on bullshit, but this is a little much even for me," Roman said. "You know how to use those?"
"Not really. I don't think it'll matter. Once all four are brought together, the Gods will return."
"Heh. Let's hope we've all been good boys and girls."
/-/
"My Lady," Hazel insisted. "A Bullhead approaches."
"I know." Salem's fingers drummed on her knee, her arm rigid and tense. Red eyes that had been distant and seeing far away came back into focus and she dismissed the Seer, cutting off the feed from within the flying metallic box. "It is the new headmaster of Beacon. The one Cinder feared so much."
"Let him come!" Tyrian cackled. "I'll drag Cinder's body to you. Their armies can't stand up to us."
"They've not brought an army, Tyrian. They're bringing three people. Cinder is not among them."
"Ha ha! Maybe they're coming to beg for mercy."
"Perhaps," Salem said, knowing they were not. Her hand rose and her will was sent out across the Grimm, bringing them to a halt. The temptation to swarm the aircraft with Nevermore was overpowering, but if she did then they might throw caution to the wind and seek to ram her. The Bullhead itself would do little damage, but if it and its contents came too close? Everything would be undone.
Everything.
It must be a trick. Ozma would not allow this.
"Hazel," she said. "I want you at the foot of the Grimm. Don't let anyone pass. Tyrian, you are to stay with me. Intercept any who approach. We shall parlay with the headmaster and see what it is he wishes. I must admit, I'm…" Salem swallowed the truth. "-curious as to what it is he wants."
"Is something wrong, my Queen?" Hazel asked. He was ever the perceptive one.
"No. All is within our grasp." Her fingers curled around the hilt of the Relic of Destruction. "Victory is finally within my reach. As long as we don't throw that away, there's nothing they can do to stop us."
The Bullhead had come into sight and slowly began to lower, setting itself down several hundred metres away. Nevermore lined the branches of trees and their beady red eyes stared unblinkingly, as did her own. Beowolves pawed at the ground and snarled, while the Ursa supporting her palanquin moved forward, drawing her to the fore of the procession. Salem stopped them close to it, keeping a good two ranks of Grimm between her and the approaching figures. Tyrian appeared confused by that – what did she have to fear from mortals? Salem did not acknowledge his curiosity.
Through pictures, video, and the eyes of the Nevermore he allowed into his reach, she had seen the face of Jaune Arc before, but he did not do the images justice. He was shorter than she expected, still tall but not the seven-foot giant the news painted him out to be. His hair was floppy, his demeanour hunched. Cinder had spoken of the burning intellect and unyielding will; the resolute strength that had him facing her down time and time again. Salem saw none of that, and yet this was the man who had bested Cinder and Watts and, by extension, her as well.
It must be an act. He's attempting to lull me into a false sense of security. Her eyes slid to the box his companion held at his side and the still wrapped-up staff. Does he seek to trick me? Why keep those hidden unless- Of course. He thinks I don't know what they are.
The element of surprise was only that so long as she was ignorant. If she didn't know and let her guard down, she might even have been tempted to invite him up to speak. Why not? In a world where she was ignorant of what he carried, she might want to gloat a little, and it wasn't as though he or his allies could harm her.
In her hubris, she would have doomed herself.
Cinder's work, no doubt. That ungrateful brat must be feeding him information. Well it won't work this time. Rising, she held out a hand and spoke.
"No closer."
The two men, one woman, Nevermore and spirit came to a stop. They were at least fifty metres away from the Grimm, which put them sixty or so from her. Enough distance, clearly, but the Gods had never been clear on what constituted bringing the four Relics together. It wasn't something she wanted to test now.
"Jaune Arc." Her voice carried. Powerful yet soft. Booming yet gentle. The Headmaster of Beacon, Ozma's replacement, looked up to her defiantly. "Roman Torchwick." The thief beside him flipped his hat off and bowed. Some manners, at least. "And Neo Politan. Or is that Neopolitan?"
The midget cocked her head cutely, tapped her chin and shrugged.
"It is courageous of the three of you to face me," she continued. "Ozma has no doubt told you who I am. Salem. Ruler of the Grimm, immortal enemy and soon to be Queen of all of Remnant once more." Her hand fell to the Relic of Destruction, which hummed worryingly on her hip. Did it sense its siblings? Concerning. No, she had to keep pushing. "Do you come seeking to stop my horde as you did in Atlas? Surely you must know that was only ever a distraction. Or," she pondered, "Did you come to swear your fealty to me?"
The boy – no, the man – stiffened. Salem, however, stood a little taller, savouring the idea and finding it not quite so unappealing.
"I would accept you," she proclaimed. "Your intelligence has proven itself and your tenacity is infamous. You and your companions would be welcome additions to my forces." And by doing so, they might bring the Relics into the fold safely. "I will even spare Beacon, provided of course you grant me Ozma and Cinder." The maidens wouldn't matter at all with the Relics. "Give me those two and bend the knee, and I shall find it in myself to spare you."
It would be the ultimate victory.
"In fact, I might even welcome you as an equal. Rule as King beside me for the duration of your lifetime." Seventy or eighty years was no great price to pay, and she might even enjoy it. If it meant victory over Ozma, little else mattered. "How about it, Jaune Arc? Stand as one of mine. Rule as a King. Such an offer is not one that comes lightly."
"M-My Queen," Tyrian whined.
"Hush." Chiding him with one hand, she kept her eyes on the three as they conversed. If only she'd kept the Seer nearby, she might have been able to listen in on them. Waving with her other hand, she summoned it back, but a little too late to hear what they said. It did allow her to hear him more clearly when he spoke however, because his voice didn't need to travel so far.
"I think my love life is complicated enough already without getting between you and Ozpin. I'm sorry, but I'll have to turn down your offer. It's not you, though. It's me." His final line earned a startled laugh from the one known as Roman.
"It was but an offer," she said offhandedly. "The terms can be amended. Serve me as a commander, then. A leader of Grimm and humans who would serve me willingly. Faunus, too. You would be a powerful general."
"I'm happy as headmaster."
Salem gritted her teeth. "Then do so! Stay as headmaster teaching at a school loyal to myself."
"You know…" His head rose, and she cursed at the cocky grin he wore. "You're awfully determined to have me on your side suddenly. Is there something you're worried about?" He hefted his staff a little higher. "It's awkward shouting like this too. How about I come over there? I'll trust you not to kill me if you give your word."
"I knew it!" she hissed, eyes burning. It was just as she'd thought. "You shall stay where you are!" she boomed. "You may think yourself clever, but I am the elder and more experienced of us. I know what it is you carry, Jaune Arc."
"What?" he mumbled. Too quiet for her to hear, or so he thought. "How could she-?"
Salem laughed loudly, stepping to the edge of her palanquin. "You are not nearly as subtle as you believe you are. It must be arrogance after dealing with Cinder. She and I, young man, are on vastly different levels. I know you have the Relics on you."
"Shit," he whispered. Louder, he said, "Then you know I'll continue to have them regardless of whether you attack me now or at Vale. You may have the Relic of Destruction, but I have Choice, Creation and Knowledge on my side. And I know full well how to use them."
"That, young man, is quite the bold lie."
He tensed. "No lie. One of the questions I asked the Relic of Knowledge was how to use them all."
"Another lie. Did your mother never warn you against them?"
"Obviously not," Roman whispered, audible to her through the Seer looking and hearing through the Nevermore they kept with them. "Or we wouldn't have been in this bloody position in the first place. Kid, this isn't working-"
"It's fine," Jaune hissed back. "I still have plans." Salem's eyes narrowed. Sadly, he didn't elaborate within earshot. "Alright. You caught me on that one, I admit, but I don't need to know how to use them to summon the Gods."
"You would have to get them to me," Salem pointed out. With one hand, she waved to the Grimm all around her. "I dare say that would be a challenge."
"For me, maybe, but not for Neo. He tossed the staff and the diminutive girl caught it with a grin. "Neo. If the Grimm charge, I want you to jump to her straight away. You don't need to do anything else. Just get them within a few feet of her and she's done."
"Do you realise just what you threaten me with?" Salem had to ask. Her hand fell, the Grimm she'd been about to send forward shuffling confusedly. Tyrian was no better, unable to comprehend what was holding her back.
"Yes," Jaune replied. "Annihilation."
"Not only I! All of Remnant, yourself, your school, your family and your Kingdom included. The Gods are not fair beings, child. They are monsters. They are inhuman creatures with ultimate power and no regard for how many lives they ruin!"
"There's some incredible irony in you saying that."
"I am nothing compared to them! I can be fought; they cannot."
"You can't really be fought right now either," he said. "Vale is weakened, Vacuo is in shock, Mistral's huntsman forces are nothing thanks to Lionheart and Atlas is recovering from an invasion. We're in no position to fight – as well you know or you wouldn't be here. So with that in mind, how are you any better than the Brother Gods? At least there's a chance they'll accept us."
"There's no chance!" she roared. "I know them. There is no chance! You're a fool to think otherwise! You would doom the world just to spite me?"
Jaune met her eyes and took a step forward. Even though there was distance between them, Salem stepped back. The Grimm did too, instinctively following her lead. The entire horde, several hundred thousand strong, shuffled back from a single man.
"I would." He spoke clearly. "Do you know why? It's because I'm petty. All us humans are. If I'm going to die either way, I'd rather die spitting in the face of the one that killed me." He held up the box containing the Relic of Choice, fingers on the rim ready to open it. "And if that means destroying the world so you can't have it." His eyes narrowed. "So be it."
"WAIT!"
He paused, fingers digging into the material ready to pull.
Salem's throat hurt. It wasn't everyday she screamed like that. Breathing heavily, she held one hand out, finger pointed toward him. "Wait," she repeated, much quieter. "Ozma would not allow this. He would never allow this." Her lips curled up. "You, child, are bluffing."
"Ozpin…?"
"Yes. He knows the truth of the Gods. He knows what they are like. This kind of desperate and petty strategy is not one he would condone. I know this. That you're here at all is proof you're bluffing."
It wasn't Jaune who answered but Roman, audible through the seer. "Or proof you don't follow the old coot's orders."
Salem's smile wavered. Surely not.
An engine roared in the distance as two Bullheads approached at reckless speed. Salem's eyes were drawn to them but thanks to the orders she'd given the Nevermore before, they didn't intercept. What now? More threats? She allowed their approach, if only because it gave her time to think and calm down. The Bullheads were marked as from Beacon. The door of one opened and a young boy with dark skin hung out. Young as he may have been his aura was unmistakable to her. Her lips peeled back, breath coming out in a hiss.
"Ozma."
He looked… Honestly, he looked terrified.
"Jaune!" he all but screamed. "Don't do it!"
Salem tensed. After centuries married to him, she knew when he was serious and when he was not. This was no act, she realised with dawning fear.
Ozma was horrified because he hadn't planned this and didn't want it.
"You'd kill us all!" he yelled, voice cracking with the strain.
"It's the best bet, Ozpin," Jaune shouted back, never once taking his eyes from her. "Vale cannot stand up to her. At least this way, it might only be us who the Brother Gods kill. A smaller sacrifice for the safety of all."
"It won't be!" Ozpin barked. "They are all or nothing. None will be spared."
"Ozma speaks the truth," Salem said, and what a day it was when those words crossed her lips. "Listen to him. You are toying with things you don't understand. We have seen the Gods. We have experienced them. Any notion you might have of them being fair is born of myth and legend. It's no more based in reality than unicorns."
"She's right!" It was a day for firsts all around it seemed. Ozma swept an arm wide, all but hanging from the Bullhead. "You can't rely on them, Jaune. Put the Relics down. Do not take them closer to her."
Salem's heart raced. Ozma's appearance and his palpable dread had thrown her out of sorts. This wasn't his plan at all, was it? Ozma had no hand here. This boy – this dreadful, reckless boy – had decided to throw the world away just to spite her. He'd do it, she realised, staring him in the eyes and seeing no fear. He's going to summon the Gods.
Her hand itched to the Relic. From here, she could destroy them. Would it count, though? The power of the Relic of Destruction might just be close enough that when it touched the other three, it would complete the set.
Did she dare risk it? Everything?
If she did and chose poorly, everything was over. Everything. Not just this battle, this day, her chances of victory or her vengeance against Ozma, but her very existence. The existence of everything on Remnant. All life would be snuffed out. How did he not realise that? How did he not care? Because he was desperate. He was a cornered rat lashing out at everything and everyone. As the headmaster of Beacon, he'd surely fight and die in the defence of the city. From his point of view it didn't matter if she killed him or the Gods. It was the same result.
Is this what they call a Vacuan Standoff? I've never felt the term be so apt.
Her and a horde of Grimm on one side, Ozma and his trusted staff on the other, Qrow Branwen, Glynda Goodwitch and his other teachers. It was both sides of an eternal war being waged across Remnant staring one another down from a distance of less than two hundred metres, and neither side dared move because one teenager and a pair of criminals stood in the centre with a dead man's switch attached to a bomb that would obliterate Remnant.
Ozma didn't dare get off his Bullhead for fear of driving Jaune closer to her. She did not dare move for fear of bringing herself closer. Jaune Arc could not move, trapped between both with no way out. There was no escape for any of them.
If I give the Relic of Destruction to Tyrian and tell him to run, I can attack without fear and take the other three. The battle would be difficult without the Relic, but then they didn't have many huntsmen here either, so victory would be hers. They know that, though. Since their only hope is the threat of the Relics united, the second I give it to Tyrian, she moves. Salem glared down the one known as Neo. As soon as Tyrian steps away from me, the Relics will be united and then it's all over.
He was a monster. A petty and desperate monster determined to win at all costs, and, if he must lose, to take everyone down with him.
"Well?" Jaune yelled. "What'll it be? Will you come to me or shall I come to you?"
"No!" Ozma roared, the sentiment and sounds echoed by his allies. The teachers, all of them, begging him not to do it. Salem held her ground, hoping against all hope that they would break through to him.
He didn't move. Not at all.
"Neo," he whispered. Salem flinched as she heard it through the Seer. "Get ready. On the count of three."
Her entire body tensed.
"Stop!"
"Don't do it!"
"You'll kill us all, Arc!"
His allies shouted their pleas to deafened ears. He was trapped now and the only option was to go forward. He'd built a cage around himself and made her the bars. Salem released a rumbling breath and held her ground, hoping against hope that Ozma would for once put that vaunted charisma to use and talk this madman down.
"My Queen," Tyrian whispered. "Give the word and I'll kill them!"
No such word was given. The slightest movement might set Arc off.
"One-" Jaune Arc counted.
He couldn't. He wouldn't. The end of the world! And yet he'd come this far. He'd walked right up to her horde. There was no escape for him, no survival, and humans were such petty creatures. Selfish. They only cared about themselves. If he couldn't win, what would he care of the lives of those he left behind?
No, she told herself. This is my moment. I've waited millennia for this.
"Two-"
Would there not be millennia more? More chances, further opportunities? Even in this lifetime, there would be room to steal the Relics away and prevent this happening again. Ozma would not let him stay in power after this, either. There was always more time for her. So long as the Gods were not summoned, she had all the time in the world.
But if they were.
"Thr-"
No time. Salem acted.
"We are leaving!"
The words boomed out over the plain, silencing Jaune mid-word and causing the small girl with the Relics to freeze. Salem felt the sweat run down the side of her face, over her left eyebrow and down her cheek. For the first time in over five thousand years, she felt death's icy claws wrap around her heart.
Close. Too close.
"My Queen!?" Tyrian cried. "But I don't underst-"
"We are leaving," she commanded, standing tall despite the retreat. The Grimm shuffled back, responding to her will. "Your reckless plan will find no fruition, Jaune Arc, and you certainly won't have a second chance to enact it."
The Relic of Destruction would have to be left in her tower. It was a loss to have but not be able to wield it, but so long as she did this would always be their way out. I can retreat now, take the time to gather my forces and come without it. The odds are still in my favour. This was her war to win. Hers to lose. After so many millennia patiently preparing for this moment, she could take a little longer to ensure victory wasn't thrown away at the last.
"You have bought yourself a reprieve," she told them, snarling at the madman as the Grimm carried her away. "Nothing more."
Retreat was a bitter pill to swallow, especially so close to her crowning moment, and yet retreat was not defeat. There would be fresh opportunities. Ones in which her opponent did not have the perfect hand to counter her.
Enjoy your victory for now, Arc. It will be short lived.
/-/
Jaune watched the Grimm retreat, feet rooted to the floor, face neutral and brain screaming. His trousers felt damp and he wondered if he'd pissed himself. If he had, he wasn't sure anyone could blame him. He wanted to curl into a ball and cry, or maybe climb to the top of a tree and scream at the top of his lungs. Something. Anything.
"Neo," he whispered, voice cracking. "Have your Nevermore scout them to make sure they're actually leaving."
The small girl nodded and patted her bird's wing. It took off with a screech and wheeled into the air, leaving them at last. Once it had, Jaune allowed himself to sag, collapsing onto his knees. He was followed by Roman, who sat on his rear and then laid back on the grass, arms spread, eyes vacant.
"I fucking hate you," he said. "I fucking rue the day you and I met, kid. Life with Cinder couldn't have been this stressful. Even if I were dead, it'd be less a pain in my ass."
"Salem has left," Jinn reported.
"We can see that you glorified eight-ball. Does your extreme fucking wisdom tell us anything about when she'll come back?"
"Answer hazy. Try again later."
Roman held up a single finger.
Two Bullheads all but crash landed nearby. It was about as close to a crash as you could get while still nebulously under the control of a pilot. They slammed down with a crunch of metal and pistons, a screeching of engines and ground churned up under them. One teetered forward like it wanted to perform a somersault, but that didn't stop Ozpin hauling ass out of it, Qrow and Glynda beside him.
"Looks like it's time to face the music," Jaune said, standing.
The butt of Ozpin's cane impacted his stomach. Jaune howled, bending forward and coincidentally bringing his head down low enough for Ozpin to grab his collar and pull their faces close together. "WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE TWO BROTHERS AND SEVEN KNIGHTS WAS THAT!?"
"S-Seven knights? Not heard that one before…"
Ozpin shook him like a rag doll. "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!?"
"I was thinking that we couldn't hold Salem back," he rasped. "I was thinking that the only way to beat her was to convince her we had the upper hand." Pushing Ozpin's hand away, he stumbled away, barely able to stand on his quaking legs. "And it worked."
"And if it hadn't?" Ozpin snapped. He swiped the staff from Neo's hands and tossed it back. Qrow caught it gingerly. "If Salem had pushed and taken the Relics, and if the Gods had been summoned, then what? They would have slaughtered us! Every man, woman and child on Remnant would have died under their blessed judgment and it would have been your fault!"
"It wouldn't have been."
"You-" Ozpin spat, burning with uncharacteristic rage.
Glynda held him back with one hand. A feat only made possible because he was inhabiting the body of a fourteen-year-old. "What do you mean by that?" she asked Jaune. "How would it not be your fault?"
"Because if Salem got hold of the four Relics, it wouldn't be by my hand."
Her eyes narrowed in confusion.
Behind them, Qrow choked on the air he was breathing. He spluttered and coughed, shaking violently. The sound of ripping paper echoed, and his panicked noises only increased in volume. It was enough to draw everyone to look at him, everyone except Jaune, who just hunched with his hands on his knees, too drained by everything that had happened. Not even Ozpin's love tap registered in his mind.
"Qrow," Glynda hissed. "What is the mat-"
"C-Chivalric Cleaning LTD 4-in-1 Power Broom. Brush, steam, mop and vacuum, all at the push of a button. Sweep your cleaning woes away with out latest home gadget…" Qrow held the silver and red plastic and metal implement by the haft, the long and thin staff-like power broom shaking as he did.
Ozpin made a sound somewhere between a gasp, a cry for help and a sob. Without speaking, he span and snatched the box from Jaune's hand, ripping the lid off and wrenching out the contents. His hands shook as he held it, eyes twitching and face flicking between fiery red and snow white.
"Hey," Roman cheered weakly. "My cigarettes."
Ozpin lurched, buckled, and caught himself. His eyes blinked and he looked around, holding the packet of cigarettes limply. He flinched and looked left and right, wide eyed and nervous. The complete change was too visible to mistake.
"Oscar…?"
"I… I think Ozpin just fainted," the young boy said. "I think he fainted in my head. How does that even work?"
"I'll take those," Roman said, swiping the pack, ripping them open and drawing three out at once. He gripped them all between his teeth and tried to light them, fumbling his lighter four times before getting them going and then puffing like a locomotive.
Glynda's mouth hung open. "They were never real!?"
"Well yeah, obviously." Jaune smiled weakly. "You really think I'd doom the world?"
"B-But you took a favour from Atlas." Qrow blurted out. "The whole academy dipped!"
"I asked Ironwood to lower the school for a few days. I mean, can you actually imagine a world in which Ironwood willingly gives me the Relic? Me of all people."
"-you sent the fall Maiden and her team out on a mission," Oobleck said.
"And they completed it. Simple Grimm clearance on a farm a bit to the west. I asked them to pick up some cigarettes on the way back and keep them in a wooden box."
The important thing had been that people had seen them leave and return. Nothing more.
"If Salem hadn't known-"
"Cinder told me how Salem once showed her a Seer looking through the eyes of a Grimm." Jaune jerked a thumb toward the air. The Nevermore was well out of range now, assuring Salem would never know. "From there, it was pretty easy to feed it – and her – whatever we wanted her to believe. All we had to do was test it by saying something only the Nevermore could hear and seeing if she reacted. She did, so we knew we had her convinced."
Port was the first to buckle. He laughed, bent over, howled, and then stormed back to the Bullheads on unsteady legs. "Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Oh heavens, I'll too old for this. Old Peter is about to have a heart attack. Ha ha ha! Please excuse me while I throw up in the bushes."
Glynda didn't find it quite so funny. "Why didn't you tell us!?"
"I needed to sell it. I needed someone to prove to Salem that this wasn't a bluff."
"Ozpin. The only person Salem would believe…"
"Salem would have known something was wrong if he acted too relaxed. Like she said, Ozpin would never have agreed to this. I couldn't trust she wouldn't be able to look past any acting on his part since she's known him for so long. It had to look real. It had to be real. The rest of you… I'm sorry," he said. "But I knew you'd tell Ozpin, or even if you didn't, the second you didn't look afraid, Ozpin might figure out it was a trick and not panic as much as he did. It had to be real."
Slow clapping came from one of the Bullheads, Cinder sitting cross-legged, applauding slowly. On her face she wore a superior and satisfied smile, the kind of every person everywhere who had ever whispered the glorious words "I told you so". No doubt she'd been convinced this was all his master plan from the start.
And for once, she'd been right.
Glynda pinched the bridge of her nose and heaved for air.
"If you want to hit me, I'll understand."
"I do want to hit you," she hissed. "And there will be repercussions, believe me. Not for saving Vale, you've bought us the time we need, but for throwing your life away so recklessly."
"I didn't-"
"Do not belittle me, Jaune!" Her hand fisted in his collar as she yelled in his face. "You chose this plan knowing it might fail. That's why you faked the Relics, so that if it did, we wouldn't suffer her having hold of them all. Even if she took Knowledge, it would have been useless for another ninety-nine years. That meant you were aware of the possibility of failure."
He couldn't deny that. How could he? There was always the chance Salem would throw caution to the wind, at which point he'd have died. But at least he would have died trying to stop her. Meeting Glynda's eyes, he said, "I was. I'm sorry."
"Huntsmen make the ultimate sacrifice every day," she whispered back. "But they usually have the balls to say goodbye to the people they'd be leaving behind first. A call, a message or anything would have been better than making me chase you halfway across Vale with my heart in my throat!" Pushing him away, she stormed back to the Bullhead. "Walk back to Beacon. Maybe by the time you get back, I'll be less eager to beat you senseless with my crop!"
Roman elbowed his side. "Kinky."
"Roman," Jaune hissed. "Shut up."
Only Qrow remained.
Jaune met him head on.
"You tricked me."
"I did." He looked down to the broom still clutched in Qrow's fists. He could have claimed he hadn't and that he'd told him the truth about it being a broom and cigarettes, but that wouldn't really change anything. "I had to. I hope you can understand why. I needed someone to sell it to Ozpin, and I couldn't think of anyone I'd trust more than you."
"I get that." Qrow closed his eyes. Sighed. "I get that and there's no arguing with the results. I'm pissed, but I'm less pissed than I was ten minutes ago when I thought you were throwing away your life."
"Qrow-"
"Only a little, though. You still went out here ready to risk your lives for ours, didn't you?"
"I did."
"The girls would be broken to bits if you died, you know."
"I'd be broken if they did," Jaune replied. "Maybe it's selfish. No, it definitely is. If I could pick who dies first, myself or my students, it's going to be me. You know how that feels though, don't you? You're the same wat."
"I am," Qrow replied. "After losing Summer, I don't want to be one of the ones left alive next time. Which is why I'm really conflicted on how hard and where I'm about to hit you."
"I think it would be hypocritical to hit me at all."
"It would," he freely admitted, smiling the whole time. "Did I ever say I wasn't a hypocrite? If so, sorry for misleading you."
Jaune laughed awkwardly. "Guess not. How about hitting me in my bank balance instead? My legs are jelly, my heart is running at seven million bpm and I feel like I'm about to collapse. Do you know of anywhere we can get roaring drunk around here? I'll pay."
"Did someone say alcohol?" Roman puffed. "I need alcohol. I need to forget this day ever happened and that you managed to bullshit your way out of certain death for what feels like the tenth time. I am literally running on tobacco right now. You could set my hair alight and smoke me."
Qrow grinned. "I know a place. We're gonna get roaring drunk, you're paying, and then you and I are working this all out with a nice drunk spar."
"Fighting me while I'm out my mind?" Jaune smiled weakly. "I don't think it'll be much of a fight…"
"That's what I'm counting on. I'mma push your shit in and feel better after."
"Oh. Well… I guess that's fair."
Jaune bullshits it out again.
To be fair to Salem, this is kind of how you have to play in card games. Even if the odds are unlikely, you usually have to play assuming that the other person has the answer. From her point of view it's not so much of a risk to retreat now, leave the RoD behind and come back later without it.
But to chance it and approach him if he does have the Relics?
Well, that's the end. Total annihilation. And since Jaune has both the Winter and Fall Maiden, he could technically have opened those vaults. Well, not that he'd need to do Winter since Atlas has it freely and all, but you get the picture.
Next Chapter: 18th June
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