Hello folks! And it's time for some breaking news fallout!
99. Back to the Wall
The White Fang did not generally get the news. They were based too far out from the kingdoms, where scroll coverage was spotty at best, and where even the Vytal Festival wasn't broadcast. But they did have some ability to receive short-ranged messages and calls, and some sympathetic eyes and ears in nearby villages. So maybe it would be more accurate to say that they got the news, but it took a while. Usually—but not today.
Within the first hour after the story had broken, Sienna was inundated with no less than four calls from three different villages, all clamoring to tell her about what Vacuo 24 had just broadcast. Namely, the end of Cinder Fall. Not by the Council's hand, or even really by Ironwood's—one of her people had admitted to killing hatchlings on her orders, and now her own power base was ready to eat her alive.
Which brought Sienna to where she was now, standing fifteen feet away from Hazel, which seemed like the minimum safe distance. Her scroll lay in pieces in the grass, and his palms were bleeding. She felt like she ought to say something, but she wasn't sure that would be wise. He was shaking with rage, his gigantic fists clenching and unclenching. Sienna had always known he was big, but it had been a long time since he'd struck her as dangerous.
The moment passed. Hazel picked glass out of his palms and said, "I'm sorry about that."
"What are you going to do?"
Hazel spat on the ground. "To hell with her. I'm done."
Sienna arched an eyebrow at the shattered scroll. "I'd gathered that. I'm asking what you intend to do with regards to the White Fang."
He shrugged. "Don't know. Doubt they'll let me stick around."
"You're good with Brand. But... no. They won't."
What had the world come to, that she regretted that? He was human, and he cared more about dragons than the cause, but she'd come to rely on his steadiness. Cinder really was a fool, to throw something like that away. Maybe the Fang were fools, too. If it were up to Sienna... but she couldn't sell something like that without a cult of personality she didn't have or want. She wasn't Adam. She couldn't, wouldn't force them to accept him.
Still. She was starting to notice a pattern—things always seemed to go bad when the steady ones were forced out. Hazel, Ilia, the Belladonnas. The dragons. She could call one or two of them traitors, but all of them...
"Good luck," she sighed, and meant it.
Flux was in her tent when Sienna returned to the main camp. She cut through the leash without really seeing it. There was no point keeping her in here, now. Hazel wouldn't care if he saw her.
She trotted at Sienna's heels as they continued through the camp. The information needed to be shared. The Albains first—they'd be difficult about it if she told anyone else before them. Informing Hazel had technically been an accident.
They were in the lab, according to Perry. Sienna muttered a curse under her breath and headed towards it. Without thinking, she snapped at Flux to, "Stay!" as soon as they came to the outer door. Flux stopped and sat down, sniffing the air and whining.
She should really explain it to her dragonet soon. Harbinger had taken it well, after all, as had Justice. It had to happen eventually—there was no way around it.
Fennec and Corsac were near the back, hovering over an egg that would go to the former if all went well. Which, considering their track record, it probably wouldn't.
Sienna shook off the thought. They'd been having far more success lately, now that they'd finally managed to replenish their lab enough to start injecting eggs. This egg would have a far better chance than the one that had produced her first hybrid.
It was still more likely to die than not.
"Sister Sienna," Corsac said, inclining his head in greeting. "Is everything well? You seem agitated."
"Cinder is finished."
Their eyes widened. Sienna explained the situation—the sabotage, the reveal on every news channel, and the small detail that it had been Ilia who had nearly died to expose it all. The Albains listened intently, Fennec's ears twitching with every word.
"But this is wonderful news!" Corsac burst out, when she was finished. "We can finally get out from under this human, and with her and the Council and Ironwood and the Schnees all at war, we have the perfect opportunity."
"The conflict won't last long. She'll lose almost all of her support over this, and where will that leave her?"
"Desperate," said Fennec.
"Exactly, brother." Corsac clasped his hands together. "This fight has three factions, remember. In such uncertain times as these, even a thumb on the scale could have incredible effect. Even with only our three dragons, we could take action to aid one group or the other and prolong the war for years."
Sienna knew where this was going. The opportunity hadn't been hard to spot. "Leaving the winner exhausted," she finished, "while we'll have all that time to grow our own army."
Fennec nodded gravely. "This is a chance beyond Brother Adam's wildest dreams—we can take Remnant, if we play our hand well."
"And even if we fail," added Corsac, "What have we lost? A few dragons, a few foot soldiers. But we'll come out the other side with a government so weakened by conflict that we won't even need the hybrids to topple it."
"You haven't mentioned the most likely outcome," Sienna said. "A victory for the Grimm."
Corsac's eyes glittered. "Our people are strong. And wasn't it you who said it best? Sometimes suffering in the short term is necessary, to build a better future."
There was a strange ringing in Sienna's ears. "I'll have to think about this. Only an idiot would jump into a war without a specific strategy in mind."
Corsac shrugged. "If you believe that's best. We'll be counting on your tactical cunning, of course."
Flux was still outside, waiting as patiently as she could. Her tail twitched like a live wire. When Sienna approached her, she looked up and went suddenly still. A frightened whimper slipped out, and she nosed at her hand in an effort to comfort her.
Sienna knelt down and stroked the dragon's neck. "What the hell are we doing?" she wondered, in a whisper that barely even reached her own ears. Sparks jumped, and she pulled away. Flux butted her head against her chest and squeaked.
Petting her helped more than she'd thought it would. Being with her was calming, even though she was almost never calm herself. Sienna scratched her behind the ears and listened to her purr.
Dragons were always like that. Simple, loyal... steady. Except when they weren't.
The bite on her arm itched.
"Brand?"
He opened one eye. Hazel was there, and something in his voice made the dragon pick his head up to listen.
The human knelt down next to him and stroked his nose. "I have to go."
He let out a confused, indignant whine. Hazel shushed him and pressed their foreheads together. "I'm sorry. I don't have a choice. Something's come out about Cinder. I can't keep helping her, and that means I can't stay here."
Brand's tail thumped heavily against the ground. He snorted steam, and fought an awful temptation to pin the kind human down and keep him. "Nno," he grumbled.
Hazel scratched his ears. "You could come with me, if you wanted. I won't ask you to fight the White Fang. Or anyone, if you don't want to." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I... don't know what I'm going to do now."
Brand hid his head under his wing. Hazel patted his neck, trying to coax him out again with soothing murmurs. "It's alright. I won't be angry if you don't want to."
He did want to. That was what hurt so much.
"Llux." He didn't bother trying to pronounce Harbinger's name.
Hazel heaved a sigh and leaned against him, wrapping an arm around his neck. "I understand. And... I'm sorry. I've been a damn fool."
Brand bumped Hazel with his nose. "Nno," he insisted. "Gud..." Stay...
The human sighed. "You trust us too much," he murmured, and pressed their foreheads together.
He left soon after that—and it felt like he'd taken most of Brand's insides along with him. The dragon lay for a while in a lifeless coil, ignoring the goings on of the camp. Until one of them came close enough to touch him.
Brand glared up at Sienna from where his head lay. She crouched down, but didn't get closer than a few feet from him. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I need to ask for a favor."
His ears went back. If she wanted him to hunt Hazel, now—!
"Can you fly us somewhere? There and back?"
Even the thought of sitting up seemed impossible... but then Flux put her little paws up on his back, and he had to do it. She chirped at him as he rose ponderously to his feet, bending down low so that Sienna could climb on his back.
Strange, how people weighed on him. She might have been lighter than Adam, but she was so much heavier than Hazel.
It wasn't until the following morning that the news reached the Branwen camp through a former member. He'd left when his dragon died of a congenital heart condition, ten years after they would have culled him. But upon seeing the news he'd flown off on a friend's dragon and tracked them down.
Raven stayed silent throughout his explanation. Then she retreated to her tent and, for the first time in almost a decade, used her scroll. They'd have to move now, anyway—Cinder knew where they were camped.
Qrow picked up on the third ring. "You heard."
"You're going after her."
"Yeah."
"What about the Council?"
"We've gotta take this stuff one thing at a time. And—" he hesitated. "I can't talk about specifics over a scroll when they might be listening, but dealing with her is more urgent."
"More urgent." Raven's knuckles went white against the scroll.
"She tried to kill your daughter. In case you forgot."
"Cinder is a symptom," Raven hissed. "Leave the problem and there will always be more of her!"
"We know," Qrow snapped. "You might act like we don't so you can go on not giving a damn, but you know we do. I'm telling you, we have information you don't that I can't share over a scroll."
"You're splitting your forces. Wasting time and resources on someone who doesn't matter."
"She—"
"I don't give a damn what she's done, Qrow. It's not worse than them. When the important fight is over I'll hunt her down and rip her throat out, but until then she means nothing to me."
"I told you. Right now, she is the more important fight. I can explain if we meet in person."
Raven's lip curled. "No. No excuses, and no bullshit. I'll give you a week. We'll need at least that long to prepare. One week to deal with Cinder, and then the tribe is going to do something about the Council. You can help or not, your choice."
"For the love of—Raven, we've got a better shot if we attack together—"
She hung up on him, relieved her scroll of its battery, and shoved it back in its box.
Twenty-five hours after the news about Cinder had broken, Doctor Watts hung up his hat and coat in Vacuo's Council headquarters. Interns scrambled to bring him coffee and a meal, only to yelp and retreat from the trio of hybrids that trotted obediently at his heels. They were his three youngest—the only ones that could still fit comfortably indoors.
Eight of the nine Councilors were present—the eldest, Aegolius, was unable to leave his home in Atlas, so his chair was filled by a holograph. Every eye turned towards Watts as he entered. The moment his hybrids put their paws over the threshold, chaos erupted.
"You brought those creatures here?!" Cordovan burst out, leaping from her chair as if he'd just dropped a large and hairy spider in her lap.
Watts sighed. "There's no need for that, I can assure you they are completely under my control." To demonstrate this, he had them all stand on their hind-paws and bend at the waist. Dragon physiology didn't make for the most elegant of bows, but the perfectly synchronized maneuver was impossible to achieve through mere training. Some—but not all—of the Councilors relaxed.
Councilman Pepon cleared his throat and stood up. "Councilors, I'm sure you remember Doctor Arthur Watts. I've spoken about him at some length, as a possible solution to our problem."
Watts glanced around the room, taking note of the various expressions of interest, hope, fear, and disgust. Spinnet, the Councilor Ozpin had managed to get into office, was keeping their face carefully neutral.
"Pepon." Gosling folded her hands and leaned towards him. "To be frank, we've already decided on a course of action. General Ironwood has the support of most of the Flight Squads, and like it or not we need them. I've had enough of your stalling—we are going to meet with him to negotiate terms."
"With respect..." Watts bowed low and approached the table. He didn't sit down, but instead snapped his fingers so that Hybrid 48, his earth and fire hybrid, stood beside him. It was so close that the Councilors could likely feel the heat of its scales. There were startled exclamations, and he allowed himself a small smirk. "I don't believe you do need the Flight Squads."
Aegolius squinted at the dragon. "Is there something wrong with my connection?" he asked. "What is that on its head?"
This time Watts smothered his amusement. So Pepon hadn't told them—that was good. This sort of reveal deserved the proper gravitas.
"Would anyone like to give it an order?" Watts asked. "Anything it can physically perform."
They looked dubious, but Cordovan risked a suggestion. "Step back."
Hybrid 48 stepped back.
More curiosity in the room, now, and the suggestions came thick and fast. The hybrid lay down, rolled over, twisted itself into a knot, and even balanced on its back paws for nearly a minute. Watts added in the other two one by one, until all three of them were performing synchronized tricks at once.
"Yes, yes, they're very well-trained," Gosling said, waving a hand. "But if we're to oppose Cinder we need an army now, not a year from now, and seeing as they don't have riders I don't see why you've brought them here." She glared at Pepon.
"On the contrary—they haven't been trained at all." Watts snapped his fingers, and Hybrid 48 approached once again. It lowered its head onto the table so that the Councilors could see the device more clearly. A few of them recoiled from the heat—it wasn't quite as hot to the touch as the fire and lightning hybrid, but contact with the creature could easily burn the unwary.
"This plate here contains the AI that is piloting the dragon's body. They are programmable, perfectly obedient, and require no riders... and the dragons that are wearing them are all less than two weeks old."
"That's impossible," Gosling said flatly.
Watts smirked. That was his favorite kind of praise—and he eagerly embarked on the lengthy process of proving her wrong.