Happy Tuesday, folks! Here's another chapter, starring the Stark Dragonry, Winter Schnee, and James Ironwood's hatred of politics.

55. Smoke Signals

"Where even are we?!"

Neptune threw his hands into the air in disgust. He was sick of keeping his voice down, sick of wandering around in the middle of nowhere waiting for the next catastrophe, and really sick of Sun and Huo jumping headfirst into danger like this.

"Does it matter?" Weiss shot back. "It's not as if we know where we're going."

"Enough," snapped Goodwitch.

"Do the others know where we are?" Neptune demanded. "Because if I don't, it kinda feels like they won't either."

"They'll find us," Sage said, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"But... shouldn't we stop and wait?" Ruby asked. "We can't just leave without them!"

"I said, enough."

Everyone shut up.

"I can assure you, at the pace we're going they will have no difficulty catching up. We'll see them when they get close."

"It's been almost an hour," Neptune insisted. "Can't we just go back and—"

"Yes. Almost an hour." Goodwitch's voice was dry. "It has been known to take longer than that to lose pursuit, Mister Vasilias. Peter is an experienced Rider—I will ask that you trust him, and your classmates. If they still haven't returned by late afternoon, we will send someone to find them. Until then, I'd prefer to avoid splitting our group even further when we have no means of communicating with one another at a distance."

"But—"

Scarlet elbowed him. "Nep, come on. We're not going to get out of here on foot if we don't keep moving."

He was about to argue, more out of frustration than actual disagreement, but a sound stopped him. It was faint—something very loud, coming from somewhere very far away. A roar.

A few panicked glances later, and several students launched themselves at nearby trees, climbing up to try and see what was going on. Neptune was one of them. The instant he saw the sky, he almost slipped off his branch.

Part of it was blotted out completely by a pillar of smoke. Far in the distance, the outline of a dragon appeared out of the blurry haze. Neptune spent about half a second wondering if it was one of theirs or a pit dragon. Then it shrieked again and a jet of flame flew from its mouth. The line of fire spread into the distance, until the whole horizon was blotted out on that side.

Neptune scrambled back down the tree, swearing and stumbling as he hit the ground. People were already talking over one another in a panic. Finally Goodwitch clapped her hands together. They quieted. "We need to move. Now. They're trying to box us in."

"But the others—"

"They must have lost them, right?" Jaune said, hesitantly. "I mean, why else would they risk setting the forest on fire?"

"Yes," Goodwitch said impatiently. "Now, if we could move, before that dragon finishes surrounding us with raging forest fires?"

Qrow had figured he and Tai could manage four hatchings, easy. They had dragons to help, and the kids weren't idiots either—their parents were Riders Tai knew, and they'd all handled eggs before.

Of course, that had been his plan for all four happening at once. Which the official Dragonries made happen by injecting the eggs at precise times and controlling their temperature down to a hundredth of a degree. They had a lot of frantic library raids, not a single trained technician to speak of, and the most expensive incubators Tai could afford. Which were, it turned out, dirt cheap.

So they stayed up in shifts. For six days. With their sleep further interrupted every time one of the dragonets decided that the dead of night was a much more dramatic time to emerge. And three of the four students tried to stay up until one of the dragonets picked them, which meant that by the time the fourth and final egg hatched, the house was full of sleep-deprived teenagers, a near-homicidal Qrow who'd been going to sleep at six in the morning for almost a week, and Tai. Insufferable morning-person Tai who was still cheerful.

Qrow was tempted to push him into a pile of dragon dung. But, instead, he decided to be the bigger man and hang out on the roof with Salty for a while, trying to rub away a headache while the excited shrieks of kids and dragonets drifted up from below. A few minutes later, Tempest joined them.

"Llloud," she said.

He burst out laughing. "Yeah, no kidding." In the kid's defense, hers was the fire dragon—and almost as vicious as Phoenix had been when she first hatched.

Slowly, reverently, he pulled out his flask and tipped his head back. Tai hadn't wanted him drunk when the eggs hatched. Qrow... reluctantly agreed that he had a point. Salty's tail drooped, and Qrow mustered a grin for him.

"Not going to go overboard," he promised. "I'm still waiting for that little hell-beast to set the barn on fire."

Somewhere below him, the newest rider shouted, "Not my ear!" Qrow groaned. He should probably get down there soon—he definitely should have protested more when Tai told him he could be the fire instructor.

Before he could move from where he sat, he felt his scroll vibrate. His brow furrowed. He hadn't gotten a message from anyone in a while. No more stupid jokes from Yang and Ruby, no more invitations to go bar-crawling with Peter and Barty... no more missions from Ozpin. Just silence.

Shaking his head, he squinted at the screen. Unknown number. He scanned the message.

"Ah, fuck," he blurted. "Tai! Tai, get up here!"

"Where the hell—are you on the roof? Thanks for helping, Qrow!"

Salty and Tempest nudged him with their noses, making inquisitive sounds as they stared at the message. "It's the girls!" Qrow told them, and Tai. He didn't wait for his old friend to climb up. Instead he pushed himself off the roof and landed much more painfully than he would have as a teenager.

"What?!" Tai was at his shoulder in an instant, snatching the scroll right out of his hands. His lips moved soundlessly as his eyes roved over the message, widening with every word. "Who is this from?"

"I told you, the girls." Qrow pointed to the end of the message.

— We're kinda out of range right now, so a friend is taking the message ahead for us.

— P.S., Tell York to stop fussing so much over the ointment, even if it smells bad.

Only someone who'd taken care of him would know about York's hatred of the ointment they gave him for his missing eye, and Ruby had been persuading him to stay still for it for years. It was them.

Everything the two of them had been asking themselves, increasingly desperately and fruitlessly, since the invasion of Beacon—all of it was suddenly right there. The girls had gone with Cinder, the up-and-coming rebel leader. They were in the woods north of Vacuo. They were safe, for now, but that was about to change. And, of course, the icing on the cake—Cinder engineered the mass increase in hatching defects, had access to some kind of dragon mind control device, and was gunning for both his nieces.

Qrow stared at his scroll for a moment, paralyzed with indecision. James would want to know. Winter would definitely want to know. But if this got into the wrong hands...

He forwarded the message. James could be rash, and the way Atlas handled its hatchings was repugnant, but he wouldn't betray them like that. And they'd probably need all the help they could get.

That finished, Qrow glanced up. Their four new students were milling around, trying to act like they weren't listening intently as Tai summarized the message for the dragons. "Shit," he mumbled. "Uh, okay, look—"

"It's summer break," Tai said, lunging for Quake's tack.

"Yeah. Uh... be good, take care of the broodies and your hatchlings, and if anybody you don't know comes knocking, lock the door and hide upstairs."

All four teenagers stared at him in bafflement and alarm. "But, sir?" The girl Tempest seemed to like—who had, in fact, gotten the wind egg—raised her hand. "What about lessons?"

"Sorry kids." Tai's words were muffled, because he was holding the reins in his mouth while he tightened straps on Quake's saddle. "Just got word on my daughters. They need backup."

The girl with the fire dragonet squinted at them. "You're just... leaving us alone in your house?"

Qrow slung Salty's saddle over his back. "Yep."

"You aren't afraid we'll steal stuff?"

"Nope. Dragons are great judges of character."

"Or accidentally set the barn on fire?" She cast a slightly nervous glance towards her dragonet. Her left ear was still bleeding.

"Uh..." Shit, they probably shouldn't leave them completely unsupervised. They were rider's kids, maybe, but they still needed some guidance. Qrow glanced at Tai. His mouth was set in a grim line as he checked Quake's saddlebags, but there was a hint of panic in his eyes. Probably remembering Summer.

Yeah, no. He couldn't even ask that. Qrow could stay behind, but if he found out something had happened while he sat on his ass babysitting, he'd have to... well. He wasn't going to risk that either. He'd rather the whole damn house burned to the ground.

Hang on. They were all Riders' kids. "Call your parents," he said, nodding to himself in satisfaction.

All four teenagers glanced at one another. "They're on missions," the water rider said sheepishly. "There's been Grimm everywhere since Beacon, and we weren't going to be home, so..."

Fuck it. Slowly, Qrow turned to look at Tempest. She drew herself up indignantly and said, "Nno!"

Tai dropped the saddlebags and approached her. Gently, he drew her head down close to his and stroked her forehead. "I know," he murmured. "I know... but we're gonna get them back, okay? I know I can trust you to make sure they have a home to come back to. And somebody's gotta protect those hatchlings."

Her ears drooped. Reluctantly, she nodded.

Qrow fumbled for his wallet, gestured at the nearest teenager—the earth rider, this time—and dumped about half its contents into his hands. His eyes went huge. "Use that for groceries and shit. Should last you until your parents get back. Until then, listen to York and Tempest."

"You're putting the dragons in charge?" the water rider blurted.

"Yup." Qrow grinned and vaulted onto Salty's back. "That's lesson one, kids—your partner's just as smart as you are. A hell of a lot smarter, if you're anything like me."

"Try not to be," added Tai.

"We will," the fire rider said solemnly.

Winter rapped on the door three times. When the General's voice called, "Enter," she strode in with her posture military perfect, her hands clenched in tight fists where they clasped behind her.

"Sir?"

"I told you I'd notify you as soon as I got word—"

Her jaw jumped. No news was good news. They'd been caught. Her mind raced through possibility after possibility, each worse than the other. Would they cull a healthy dragon like Specter? Would the riders themselves be arrested? Would that even matter, if they killed her partner?

"Winter, the council still haven't found them. This information came from Qrow Branwen."

"Qrow?"

General Ironwood raised an eyebrow. Winter subsided, embarrassed. "Yes. Qrow. Apparently his nieces got him a message."

She let her shoulder's relax, briefly, as relief washed over her. Then she straightened. "Is this message classified, sir?"

"Not unless I report it to the council," he said dryly, "which seems like a bad idea." He explained the gist of it to her—and finally, after weeks, she knew where Weiss was.

"If they're out of range of the CCT..."

"We can't contact them," the General confirmed. "Which means our only options are to let Qrow handle it and hope nothing goes wrong—" he caught the look on her face and sighed. "Yes, I know. I need to do something, but I was hoping to keep plausible deniability for a little while longer."

So that was why he'd told her all of this. Winter inclined her head respectfully and said, "Of course, sir. I was concerned for my sister and acted alone."

The General sighed. "Very well. I'll leave a gap in our security tonight."

"I can leave sooner, sir."

"I know you can—but it'll be easier to sneak you out later, and you'll get there first anyway."

Winter blinked. "Get there before... who, sir?"

He waited until she got it. "But, General—!"

"Taiyang will be there as well, if that helps." General Ironwood sat up straighter. "I'm sorry Winter, but I can't send anyone in an official capacity without bringing the Council down on our heads. I understand that Qrow can be... difficult to work with, but he is good at what he does."

Winter grimaced. "I'll leave tonight. Sir."

He smiled. "Thank you, Winter. And good luck."

That night, he kept his word. It was easy enough to put a few sympathetic faces in the right places, and Winter already knew the grounds like the back of her hand. James watched through the cameras—there were too many of them for her to dodge them all, but it didn't matter much. If the Council asked for the footage, he would give it to them, and tell them honestly that she was allowed to walk around after hours if she so wished.

His mouth twisted into a grimace. Willing or not, he didn't like the idea of throwing her under the bus. Especially since they would catch on eventually no matter what he did. An ache pulsed behind his eyes, and he put his fingers to his temples. How the hell had Ozpin juggled all of this for so many years?

Better not to wonder. He squared his shoulders and watched Winter slip through the final checkpoint. She paused just long enough to glance at the cameras. A nod would have been too obvious, but the moment of eye contact was its own farewell.

It helped. James wasn't Ozpin—for better or worse, he'd have to do this his own way. Blunt and direct. And if that meant he could send Winter after her little sister... he couldn't bring himself to regret any of it at the moment.

As if they'd read his damn mind, the screen on his desk pinged. A call from the Council. James took a second to compose himself, his face smoothing into a more neutral mask. Then he accepted the call and looked at the shadowy figures with bland politeness.

"General Ironwood," greeted the figure in the center. Councilwoman Gosling's voice was crisp and polite, as if nothing was wrong. That didn't mean much, though. There were nine Council members, two representing each kingdom... and one, Gosling, who served as the mediator for the entire group. She'd been in politics longer than he'd been alive. Her tone wasn't much of a clue to what she was thinking.

James couldn't help feeling naked by comparison as he conjured up a smile and nodded to her, and to the eight others on his screen. "Councilors. Is there a problem? It's very late."

Another figure, just to her right, spoke. James recognized this one as Councilman Pepon, one of Vale's representatives—and he had already dispensed with politeness. "In times like these we are rarely not in session," he said peevishly. "We have been discussing your message."

Already. James nodded again, clinging to his inoffensive smile like a drowning man to a life preserver. "As you said, Councilman, these days have brought extreme pressure down on all of us. I am grateful for your offer, but I can't in good conscience accept protection when our academy is already well defended. Those Riders are needed elsewhere—Grimm populations have been exploding, and of course each kingdom must defend its borders."

James was desperately hoping they would assume he was just that bad with politics, and didn't understand the implications of their offer. He wasn't sure if the fact that he really was almost that bad would play in his favor, or not.

Another figure spoke, not bothering to cover the sneer in his voice. "With all due respect, General, I question the trustworthiness of these students. In light of recent events... well, you understand." Councilman Dumphrey, representative of Mistral and Leo's longtime headache. His disdain was mutual—James had always thought he was spineless, even for a politician.

"I would agree with you, but Atlas Academy does not have the same epidemic of defective dragons that caused the riots in other kingdoms."

"But is it not still prudent to take precautions?" asked Vacuo's Councilwoman Prudence.

James started to sweat. There were those on the Council who might have supported his decision—at the very least, Ozpin had managed to get Councilor Spinnet into office—but if any of them were sympathetic, they were staying silent. Perhaps they didn't think it was worth the goodwill they'd need to spend to help him.

"Certain precautions, of course." Damn it, he needed to give them something to stall. "We will consider additional security on the barns, though some professors are worried that this might unsettle the students." He knew enough by now not to mention the dragons... but it wasn't enough.

"Good!" snapped Councilwoman Cordovan. James tried not to groan. She was a representative of Atlas, which meant they had far more dealings with one another than he could stomach. "They should be unsettled, since it appears that the rogues are ready to declare war!"

Before she could go any further, Councilwoman Gosling interrupted. "General, your trust in your students is admirable... but we must discuss additional protection for Atlas Academy."

James took a deep breath. "I will consider it," he said, and watched as the entire panel fell into disarray. The Councilors who had been interrogating him thus far squawked indignantly and began to talk over one another.

"General Ironwood, you will—"

He hung up on Councilwoman Gosling.

Leaning back in his chair, his eyes closed, James began to laugh. He might as well have sent a squad with Winter, after all. His whole body buzzed with adrenaline, one finger tapping on his desk to relieve the nervous energy. This was it—he could play dumb a while longer, stall for time while the machine of bureaucracy ponderously aligned itself against him... but it was done.

His smile was wide, sharp-edged, and very real.