Just to answer quick questions – when I said "approaching the end", I definitely meant of this book, not this fic. Though I don't like to give things away, there is anywhere between nine and ten books of this planned. We're nearly half-way through the "full" story line.


Beta: College Fool

Cover Art: Dishwasher1910

Book 4: Chapter 12


"It feels like we never get a chance to rest."

"Maybe we will once the Greycloaks are dealt with." I smiled over at Blake, who was stood beside me as I inspected the armoury of Stoneskeep, a small and cluttered room meant for the village's limited militia. The quality of what was inside wasn't great, but it would be better than wearing only a tunic and the commander had given me free reign as thanks for helping defend his people.

Blake had come with me – ostensibly to make sure I didn't get lost, but we both knew the true reason, even if neither would say it. While I might have survived the siege here, the fact she hadn't been around to help had frustrated her, and now I had a silent bodyguard to make up for it.

"If the Greycloaks are ever dealt with," she said. "This is just one branch in Mistral and we're only here because they're raiding our shores. As soon we get back home it'll be to more and more of them."

"But that won't be our problem. At least for a little while…"

Blake hummed noncommittally. She knew as well as I did that none of us would stand by and ignore the Greycloaks ravaging Vale. We'd have to get involved there as well, but we could at least take a week or two off before that happened.

I focused on the guard room once more and reached for a suit of armour. It was heavy plate like my own, and made of much the same material, iron and steel with leather straps. While it might not have been my size, that could be altered with a little effort, yet despite that fact I didn't draw it out or try it on.

When had I decided a Knight must wear heavy armour? When had I decided that would be the best for me? In truth, the only reason I'd worn it before was because in all those stories I'd read as a child it was always a "knight in shining armour" who saved the day. There'd also been a little common sense to it though, in that since I was a complete weakling, the armour might save my life. It hadn't really done that, being torn and broken through at every step – against the first Beowolf, Yang, Glenn Vuori, Merlot, and just about any other non-trash Grimm that managed to get its claws into it.

It had lessened the blows, but even when I'd taken them straight on, it was normally my high Constitution which saved me, not the thickness of my armour. I needed to stop thinking like a kid reading a book, and more like the Knight I was trying to be – or maybe I should put more thought into maximising the Blacksmith I actually was.

Armour was for tanking. It was for reducing damage and protecting important areas, but if I looked deeper then it was also for compensating for low Constitution. Tanks wore the heaviest of armour because they were going to draw the attention of incredibly strong enemies – Grimm which had Strength so high they would tear through people armed in any other manner. It was about bridging the gap between a person's Constitution and the Strength of the enemy.

But I wasn't a tank. I was no good at it and I didn't see a way for a Blacksmith to ever get any skills dedicated for tanking, especially not now that I knew about Paths and could at least be relatively sure mine was aimed more at damage. With that in mind, I'd be better off having as much mobility and speed as I could. I put the heavy armour down, and after a second's thought I put the shield down as well.

I'd done well enough wielding Crocea Mors two-handed, the better to take advantage of my Strength. The shield heralded the same benefits and complications as armour, and my only real combat skill – Runesmithing – only worked on weapons.

"Don't tell me you're going without armour," Blake said. Her tone made it clear I wouldn't be allowed even if I tried.

"Not that. I'm thinking less armour, or just covering the important parts." I rummaged around and drew forth a single breastplate with some leather straps. "This can cover my heart and lungs, and I'll grab some tassets for my thighs. Maybe a shoulder and neck guard and call it done from there."

"I suppose that could work." Blake stepped behind me and took the straps I was fiddling with. She took them and helped tie them behind me in what was a strangely intimate and comfortable gesture. "You're not the fastest of people but you're quite hardy. I'd think only tank Knights wear full armour, anyway."

"I thought I would be a tank at first. But after Ruby nearly died…"

A palm slapped against the back of my shoulder. "That's not your fault. We were all of us under-levelled for that Dungeon. Still, Pyrrha seems more than happy to be our tank, so you can focus on damage if you want. It's safer that way."

It wasn't really safer for Pyrrha being the main source target of our group, but she was strong enough to handle it – which also brought up another point. "You weren't under-levelled. I never even realised it at first but you were always stronger than us. You were probably strong enough to be a second or third year."

"Strength means more than levels." She tightened the straps a little and secured them with a quick tug to test that it would hold. She then crouched down behind me, working on the tassets. I tried not to twitch or feel too awkward as I stared dead ahead. "I may have been fundamentally stronger, but I didn't know everything needed to be a Hero. The theoretical lessons were still invaluable for me."

"Even Port's?"

She chuckled. "Even his." She patted my waist and stood. "There, you're done. I can't say it suits you – the armour plates are different colours and one looks dented. Still, it'll do for now and you can perhaps ask your father to make more once we go back to Vale."

"I will." Or I'd make my own. I tested my movement by hopping up and down, and while it was a new and weird sensation, it wasn't hard and my movement wasn't impeded. I'd be able to get used to it, and the added protection would be handy at times. "Thanks for the help. You know, speaking of levels you never did tell me how you managed to gain so many."

"I didn't."

"Do you intend to?"

"No."

Her tone made me look back, and I winced at her expression – cold and neutral with her eyes fixed on the floor and her shoulders stiff. I'd stepped on something I wasn't supposed to. That much was obvious. "Forget I asked," I said. "It's none of my business."

"Isn't it?" She shrugged one shoulder helplessly. "We're… we are together. I shouldn't keep things hidden from you. Isn't that how this works?"

"Not if you don't want to." I stepped forward and drew her into a hug. "I was only asking because I was curious. I don't actually care what happened and you don't need to tell me. In fact, if it's going to be an issue then I don't want you to tell me."

"I-"

"Nope." I pressed a finger to her lips. "Don't tell me."

The deadly Assassin rolled her eyes and gripped my finger in one hand, twisting it painfully to the side. I yelped and let go.

"I was about to say it's something I'd rather not talk about." She flashed an amused smile and pushed me away. "Still, thank you for saying that. It is… something I'm still coming to terms with. I may tell you one day and you'll be the first I tell if I decide to. It's not something I'm proud of, however."

"I understand."

"Do you?" she asked.

"Sure. I've done things I'm not proud of either."

"Maybe you'll tell me about those things one day. Perhaps they'll bother me as little as mine might bother you."

I hoped so, I really did. A part of me wanted to draw off the amulet and tell her the truth right then and there, but I refrained partly out of fear but also for timing. We were less than half an hour away from descending into this ruined temple, and now wasn't the time to cause discord. Even if she was okay with it, she'd fret at sending a Blacksmith down there, and I wasn't going to sit up here safe and alone while my friends risked their lives.

With a shared nod and a smile, the two of us departed the guardhouse and made our way towards the mines. The villagers of Stoneskeep nodded, bowed and whispered as we walked by, but much like they had before, it was awe and respect they lavished us with, even Blake who was an Assassin and so universally reviled in Vale. It felt like most of the people here didn't care about it, and that made me wonder if Mistral wasn't more progressive than Vale after all.

Would Blake have been happier living in Mistral? She would have been expected to dedicate her life to being a Hero, but that was what she was doing anyway and at least here she wouldn't receive mistrust and abuse for it.

Maybe we could live here after Beacon, I thought, and then flushed and shook my head. It was a little early to be thinking about that. We hadn't even been together a year yet.

"Ah, and here come the two lovebirds," Qrow called. He was stood at the mine entrance but wasn't alone. The other members of the Guild were there, but I didn't see Cinder or hers around.

"Has Cinder already left?"

"She departed last night for Haven. Said she'd ensure reinforcements were sent, but that the sooner she left the better. Meanwhile, us sorry lot will be going in alone."

"Do you have the map?" Blake asked.

"No, I thought we'd just guess." The Druid rolled his eyes and waved the rolled-up map in front of him. "Alright, is everyone prepared? This isn't going to be as easy as our other treks, so if anyone needs a toilet break or feels sick, deal with it now." No one moved. "We're all good, then? No one's forgotten their equipment? Everyone ready for what's to come?"

"Wouldn't that depend on what is to come?" Pyrrha asked.

"Combat, girl. Combat. Once we go in there we can be reasonably sure there'll be no Grimm, but that's only because the Heroes will have killed them all. We'll be facing them instead. I heard you've all fought against people before, but are you prepared to do that again?"

The image of the Berserker flashed through my mind – of my sword cleaving through her brittle axe-haft and caving through her shoulder. At the time I'd been disgusted at my lack of a reaction – the complete lack of trauma, sorrow or guilt that I'd expected to feel. Now, I felt only calm. It wasn't evil not to regret killing those people. Or I felt so, at least. If push came to shove, I felt I could kill a Greycloak. Especially after seeing those bodies chained to the bottom of the ocean.

The others were perhaps less certain but no one spoke up. Pyrrha let out a long breath and nodded, while Nora and Ren looked unconcerned entirely. Weiss nodded, determined as ever, while Yang raised an eyebrow and even Ruby seemed sure of herself. Maybe she was able to see the Greycloaks as nothing more than Grimm, or maybe all the bloodshed on Atlas had hardened her. It was hard to tell. Blake looked disinterested. No, practiced. She'd killed before. I was fairly sure of that, but just like I'd said before, that wouldn't phase me.

Qrow must have seen that in our eyes, for he nodded grimly. "Good. This isn't the kind of Quest I'd ever want to take kids your age on, but it's what we have and I'm proud of you all for pulling through this far. We're nearly done now. We just need to find these bastards and point the Mistral army in the right direction. Then it's back to Vale to celebrate our victory."

As one, we descended into the dark depths.

/-/

The mines were as claustrophobic as might have been expected, and the torch Blake held at the front didn't help all that much. What did were her eyes, and that was the reason she'd been granted it and asked to lead. With her at the head, all we needed to do was follow the light while she watched out for pitfalls and rocky terrain, occasionally sending a warning back to watch our footing. It was slow going, and she stopped to consult the map at the occasional twist and turn in the tunnels, but eventually the light from the torch began to bounce off white rock and marble, and the walls started to look less and less like they'd been hewn from rock.

"This must be it," Qrow said. He crouched down to pick up and turn over a rock, and the back of it was flat. No rock would be so perfectly sculpted normally. "Do you see anything ahead?"

"There is a hole in the wall," Blake replied. I couldn't see what she was talking about, but trusted her vision. "It's large enough to wriggle through one at a time. The quake must have shaken it loose, but I wouldn't call it a passage."

"What's on the other side?"

"No idea." Blake moved on ahead and we followed close behind. Eventually, the flames flickered and revealed a rough-hewn dead end. It was little more than a tunnel that had come to a halt, but when Blake waved the torch a little lower we could see a small passage that had been opened near the bottom. It was at the tip of a downward running crack in the wall, and he probably been caused by the tremors.

"Who goes in first?" Ruby asked. "I'm the smallest."

"Wrong," Qrow grunted, stepping past her. His body morphed and he lost six feet in a few seconds.

"That's cheating, Uncle Qrow."

The little crow didn't respond, at least not verbally. It didn't bother to try and fly in the close confines of the mine, but instead hopped and skipped forwards, toddling on its little legs through the hole and onto the other side. There was no noise to suggest his transformation, but Blake's lights were soon highlighting leather boots.

"Is it clear?" Yang asked.

"Seems like it. I can't see much but I'm not being attacked. Area feels deserted."

We all looked at one another, and soon enough Ruby was crawling through the hole and onto the other side. Blake handed me the torch and went next, and I kept it illuminated for the others to scurry through, some with more difficulty than others. Once I was the only one remaining, I pushed the torch through for someone to take, and then wriggled in myself. For a second it felt like my new armour would stop me, but Yang took both my hands and tugged me the rest of the way.

"Thanks," I whispered as she hauled me up.

Now on the other side of the wall and with Blake's torch for light, I could finally see the temple the miners had spoken of. The walls were covered in dust, cobwebs and lichen but there was no doubting its original use. Dust as they were, the walls were hewn from white rock that had stood the test of time, perhaps marble or something else. Weiss moved forward and brushed some dust away from one wall, disturbing a huge cloud of dust that had her coughing and hacking.

"Careful," Qrow warned and pulled her back. "The dust alone tells us no one has been down here recently, but we don't want to cause any undue noise. Sound can travel far in a place like this."

"This temple must be ancient," Pyrrha said, stepping past to touch the wall Weiss had disturbed. Her fingers ran along several etched drawings carved into the marble. Some depicted displays and scenes of worship, while others might have been words in some long dead language. Had I been alone I might have copied them on the off-chance of Runes, but that would have been a difficult thing to explain given the situation.

"Can you read the words?" I asked instead.

"I'm afraid not. I studied a little of ancient languages when I was younger, but most of that I've forgotten and this looks to be an even older dialect."

"We also don't know if it's relevant to the Greycloaks," Ren pointed out. "This could be a temple dedicated to just about anything, but for all we know they've only settled here out of convenience."

Qrow nodded. "That's true. I'm sure Mistral will be keen to explore once these guys are expelled. They love their cultural stuff and this is a treasure trove of old knowledge and history. That's not our business, though." He took the torch from Blake and held it ahead. "Come on. We need to find the exit."

"What are we looking for exactly?" I whispered as we made our way in a tight formation through the corridors. My hand fell to the hilt of my sword but I wasn't sure if I should draw it or not. No one else had.

"Our first sign will be cleaner floors and walls," Qrow whispered back. "We're leaving footprints with every step and these cobwebs are covering the way." He broke some aside for emphasis. "That tells us no one has been using this area, so we're safe for now. Once we start to find areas with less dust however, then we've found their main route. That's where we'll need to be careful."

He paused at an intersection and looked each way, before he held out a finger to test the air and pointed towards the left. We followed after him, and once it was clear we weren't in danger, he continued speaking.

"The mines brought us down, so it stands to reason we'll need to head back up to get out of here. If we find a used route, we'll follow the path that ascends, and see if we can't feel a breeze or catch some sunlight. From there we'll find the entrance and watch over it."

"And if we find Greycloaks instead?"

The Druid's expression was grim. "Kill them. We've no escape and no idea what leads where in this place. Prisoners are impossible and any hesitation will see an alarm raised. If it comes to it, don't stop to think about it. Just put them down."

I nodded and fell back a little into the middle of the group. Weiss and Pyrrha were conversing, their voices low, and I listened in idly to the conversation.

"Places like this were part worship and part practicality," Pyrrha said, no doubt recounting Mistral history. "Many religions offered salvation and protection as the main reasons for loyalty, and were built into mountains or underground to help with that. You would have a holy order of Heroes capable of protecting them and anyone who sought refuge here."

"A vault as well as a temple, then," Weiss said.

"I suppose so. In the event of a Grimm attack, nearby villagers would flee here and the temple might protect them. In turn, I imagine the temple subsisted on donations of food from nearby. They might also have had their own farms above ground. Even back then the tradition of Mistral was strongly rooted in knowing your place, so the Heroes here would have always welcomed those in need."

"And likely while they were trapped here as Heroes fought off the Grimm, the local priests would put them through sermons and the like."

Pyrrha laughed quietly, unoffended. "I suppose so. The more worshippers a temple had, the more it would have received in donations and support. Our religion probably came from one like this, or perhaps from several such faiths banding together."

"Fascinating."

I supposed that it was in a way. We'd come a long way in the past few centuries, so it was interesting to see how people had survived before the Kingdoms were founded and Heroes were institutionalised to hunt Grimm. I had to wonder how such a place had remained hidden, however. Surely this was a respected and beloved reminder of the past – and the temple itself was huge, if only because we'd been exploring it for over twenty minutes now and found no sign of other life. The corridors spread out like a rabbit warren, with empty rooms cloistered on either side. It seemed impossible that it could have remained hidden for so long.

And if it had, how had the Greycloaks stumbled upon it? Was it luck that let them find it, or had they known where to look? As ever, the answers eluded me.

Qrow paused before us and held up a hand. We all came to a nervous halt. He looked back towards us, and motioned for us to stay still while he went ahead. The fact he felt the need to stay quiet was the biggest cause for alarm. I eased Crocea Mors free, just enough so that it wouldn't catch if I had to draw it.

The Druid crept forward without making a sound, though small clouds of dust blossomed at his feet with every step. He crouched low and ducked his head through a doorway ahead, keeping the flame back so that as little light as possible would shine through. Then, before our eyes, he snuffed it out entirely.

I wasn't the only one who jumped as we were thrown into darkness, but I was the heaviest and my limited armour clinked – instantly drawing a hiss from someone nearby. I kept as still as possible so it wouldn't happen again and waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. It didn't take long, and as I started to pick out the edges of the walls around us, I realised just why Qrow had felt the need to kill the light. There was some limited illumination coming from the hall ahead. A hall which had been abandoned for thousands of years…

I slowly drew Crocea Mors, muffling the sound by placing my other hand about the edge of the scabbard. The others did the same, bringing forth daggers, swords and a scythe of their own. Nora left her war hammer on her back, but hovered a hand near the handle. Qrow stepped out into the hall, looked both ways, and then hurriedly motioned for us to follow.

It was a long, wide and tall central hallway with a roof so far above us as to be shrouded in darkness. Ornate pillars stood on either side, strange depictions of snakes or dragons coiling around them up and into the darkness. Corridors branched off in either direction, but the most telling feature, apart from the obviously used floors and lack of dust, was that the torches in the sconces along the walls had been lit. Not all, but at least one every three or so, providing a dim, ethereal glow.

"This must be the central hall," Qrow whispered. Despite that, his voice seemed to echo around us. "It is probably the spine of the complex, with cloisters, cells and rooms coming out of it like a ribcage. This would have been the main thoroughfare of the temple."

It certainly looked large and ornate enough. The corridor we'd been in had only spanned three or four feet wide at best, but this was ten times that and I could well imagine rows of pews or worshippers kneeling or standing. What they would worship, I had no idea, but there might have been a statue once at the end. All that remained there now was a half-ruined heap of rubble that had fallen over and sealed one of the passageways leading out toward the back. The other was still clear.

Yang stepped forward to stand beside her uncle and whisper, "What do we do?"

"The plan hasn't changed."

"But we don't know which path to take."

"The branches off the side aren't an option. Those will just lead deeper in." He hesitated and looked back, and like the route ahead there were two tunnels leading off the end of the hall. Those were obviously the path to progress, but with two at the back and one at the other end, and no clear signs, there was no telling if we'd be going deeper into the complex or out towards the exit.

"I could scout one of the paths," Blake offered.

"Too risky."

"My eyesight is perfect in the dark, and I can remain hidden."

"It's still too risky," Qrow said. "There's no way I'm splitting us up in here. We have no idea how strong these people are, and you can only hide if there's room for it. What happens if the tunnels are as wide as the one before and you run into someone?" The lack of an answer from Blake was telling. "No, we'll go together and see what happens."

"But which first?" Ruby asked. "North or South?"

Qrow glanced to Pyrrha. "Any religious significance? North means life, south means death or something?"

"Not that I know of…"

"Would have been too easy, I guess. Okay, we-" Qrow cut off as a noise echoed off to the southern pass, the one with the ruined statue and the single tunnel. Our eyes snapped in that direction and as we waited, the noise became clearer, but also muffled. A rhythmic staccato and something that rose and fell every few seconds – footsteps and conversation. A few seconds later, a flicker of light could be seen growing inside of it.

It made up our minds for us. Qrow didn't bother to speak and instead rushed in the opposite direction, pausing to snuff out a torch on the way. Hopefully the pursuers would assume it spent and stop to relight it. In the meanwhile, the added darkness would keep us concealed. Blake reached the tunnel first and chose the left one, and we all piled in behind her, thankful for the torches already lit inside as we made our way deeper in. Soon, the conversation from behind had faded entirely, though they were obviously headed this way.

"Do we really think they're headed to an exit?" Ren asked. "They could be moving deeper inside. They could be herding us deeper inside."

"That's a risk we would have taken randomly choosing a direction anyway," I said. "At least this way we stay out of trouble. If it's the wrong route we'll hide in a side corridor and wait for them to pass, right?"

Qrow nodded and pushed past me, taking the lead once more. His face was far more serious than I'd seen it before. With torches in the sconces we no longer needed the one we'd brought, but that illumination came at the price of security. More than that, there was not a speck of dust to be seen. The area was well used. Very well used. It was also headed downward. Qrow cursed the moment he realised, but there was no heading back.

Some strange sound up ahead caught my ear. It was deep and sonorous and echoed oddly, becoming muffled and indistinguishable by the time it reached us. There was a regular beat that accompanied it and I realised after a few seconds that it was a drumbeat, or maybe a number of drums. Either way, it sounded like more than just a few people and I looked to Qrow for an answer.

"We'll push in," he said after a second's thought. "Whatever is happening in there, they're clearly distracted. If we can find somewhere to hide while the ones behind us pass, we can make our way back through and out the other way." He eyes us warily. "Keep your weapons drawn. If push comes to shove…"

I nodded and swallowed my fear. This was no more or less dangerous than it had been with Merlot and we'd been fine there. All we had to do was stick together and listen to Qrow's instructions. The rest would handle itself from there.

The end of the tunnel approached quickly, and it opened out suddenly into a wide hall or amphitheatre. It glowed orange and the flickering shadows made it obvious a fire was somewhere down below. Qrow ducked and moved forward, leading us through the door and quickly to the left. We'd come out onto some kind of balcony, and though I couldn't see over the top I knew there were plenty of people down below, if only from their voices. The right-hand path led to a rough staircase leading down, but Qrow took us opposite, away from that and the route those behind were no doubt taking.

The nine of us huddled behind a collection of loose boulders and rocks that had been stacked off to one side, likely the rubble moved aside by the Greycloaks once that decided to take over the hall. There was enough to conceal us all and then some and we crouched between it and the balcony wall. Qrow held a finger to his lips and peeked over the top. When he made no move to stop us doing the same, we did as well.

The hall was a large and roughly circular one, though the left wall had collapsed inwards a little and was abandoned. Our balcony on the wall overhung a large open area below, and also a pit dug deep down into it. There were rows and rows of people knelt in it, and though I couldn't make out their Classes I knew they had to be the inhabitants of the ruined village.

They hadn't been killed, but why did they simply kneel and wait? Were they that afraid of the Greycloaks that ringed the hall? Speaking of, I could make out six, maybe eight figures, each of them garbed in the grey cloak that had become their namesake, and stationed in a rough circle about the villagers, keeping them in place. Off to the right, the footsteps from the tunnel we had just passed through echoed louder and louder. Orange light from a torch began to emanate from within it and we huddled down as two figures emerged.

One was hooded and cloaked in the distinctive grey hood but the other had it town and loose about his neck. He was a narrow-faced man with a wide smile and lank, black hair braided into a ponytail. I barely caught the words above his head before Pyrrha gasped.

The man turned in our direction immediately. I pressed my back into the rock behind me, trying to merge with it as Qrow pushed Pyrrha back into hers, his hand clasped over her mouth. The Champion's eyes were wide and afraid.

"What is it, father?" one of the figures asked.

"Oh, I'm sure it's nothing, my child." The other laughed happily. "Perhaps even the rats come to watch this glorious day. Come, come. Let us continue!" The footsteps echoed away, down the stairs and towards the amphitheatre below.

I edged an eye above the barricade as Qrow let go of Pyrrha and whispered for her to be quiet. It wasn't quite as necessary anymore for the moment the two men had appeared from the tunnel the beating of the drums had become louder and louder, drowning out most other noise. They were halfway down the staircase, too far away to make out much detail. Eventually, they reached a raised platform on the other end of the hall, and the taller of the two figures – the one without the hood – stepped up onto it and spread his arms wide. The drumbeats stopped instantly.

"Brothers and sisters," the man intoned, "the time is soon upon us. Soon, we shall usher in a new era. Soon, we shall change Mistral, and beyond it, all of Remnant."

He paused, and I waited, the both of us expecting some response from the crowd. All that was heard was silence, along with the shuffle of cloth and fabric. Rather than be offended, the man raised his hands towards the ceiling and continued unabated.

"Our converts have come. Our halls ring true with the sound of worship. What once was will come again, and will all soon know the beauty of a brighter future." The man paused and giggled – and the sound was filled with childish glee. "Why, my friends, we shall be the forerunners of something wonderful, something beautiful, something exquisite. But first… first we must strive for that future. We must give so that we might reap. Brothers and sisters, we must sacrifice."

My hand tightened on the hilt of Crocea Mors. I sought out Qrow and he met my eyes, shaking his head rapidly. Beside him, Ruby gripped Crescent Rose tightly. Her thoughts were likely the same as mine. I couldn't just sit still while people were killed. Not again.

"Mistral rots above us. It festers and burns and suffers under a disease that eats away at it from within. The people buckle and slave, while Soldiers give their lives and Heroes are used and thrown away like chaff. Meanwhile, the Nobles and the Church feast and become glut from the sacrifice of others. It sickens me, brothers and sisters. It sickens me as it sickens you and sickens the land. All is sick and dying and suffering, but we… we have the answer. We have the key."

Qrow waved to us to come closer to the exit, and even though I longed to do something about the people down below, I knew I couldn't. There were too many Heroes here, and all we'd do was add our own to the tally of those that might die. It was the hardest decision I'd ever made but I made it nonetheless. I nodded and crawled after the others.

I felt it the moment it happened. The ground beneath us, the balcony, groaned. The rock and rubble already deposited above it was heavy enough, but our weight proved the final straw. It shifted and cracked and dust rained down from it.

"That's our cue to leave," Qrow hissed, not waiting for a response from below. He shifted to the side and pushed Yang back in the direction of the tunnel. I made to move as well, pushing off the rock I'd been pressed against, but a second crack sounded, this one far louder than before.

"Who dares to defy this, our proudest moment? Show yourself!"

We didn't plan to. Blake and Yang reached the tunnel, as did Nora and Ren – but at the moment where Pyrrha pushed off and moved across the balcony, the pillar beneath buckled. The ground beneath her gave way, sloping back, and she lashed out to grab onto something for purchase. She chose my shoulder.

It was a mistake.

With the floor going from flat to diagonal, my balance was shot, and the hand clamping down on my shoulder ruined it altogether. I fell back and slid down, and when Ruby tried to catch my foot she was hauled off the balcony as well. The three of us crashed down below, landing in a cloud of dust among the villagers knelt in the middle of the theatre. Bodies pressed down on me from every direction as blank-faced men and women held us down. I managed to tear an arm free and try to draw my sword, but four more arms pushed down on me from behind, driving me face-down into the tiled floor. The villagers were working with the Greycloaks.

"My, oh my…" a voice cajoled. "It seems we have uninvited visitors. Why, I do wish you'd sought to let me know. I would have set up a welcome party." The narrow-faced man with the black hair crouched down to place his face in front of mine. "And you are welcome, you know. Everyone will be welcome in our new world. There won't be any abandoned, maligned, or left behind. Oh no, no, no. The world will be a place where everyone is included, whatever Caste they may be."

"Callows," Pyrrha gasped, held face-down beside myself, but wide-eyed nonetheless. "You're Tyrian Callows."

"Indeed I am, my dear. Tyrian Callows, Paragon of Mistral." The man stood back up and bowed theatrically, the words above his head confirming his name and Class; Paragon. "A Knight, a Champion and a Reaper, all here to witness the birth of a new world. Oh, what a day it will be." He looked to the villagers holding us down. "Bring them to the front but don't harm them. They are to be honoured guests in our creation of a new world."

Someone hauled me to my feet but I couldn't see their face. They were hooded and wore a thick cowl, but pushed me after Tyrian. My hands were secured by two or three others, all gripping me together at the same time at the wrist, elbow and shoulder. Pyrrha and Ruby were pushed beside me, and then driven to their knees. Something struck the back of mine as well, and I fell with a pained grunt. Our only solace was that Qrow and the others hadn't yet been found. Had it been anyone else who fell, I wondered if he would have left us, but there was no chance he would do that with Ruby.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. It made the man freeze and also brought any angry murmur to the people behind me. Someone tried to shut me up by pushing me down again but I resisted it. "Why?" I repeated. "You're a Hero, aren't you? Why are-"

A hand caught my chin. Another rested against my cheek. Tyrian had appeared before me in a flash, cupping my face in a hold that was gentle, almost loving.

"Say it again," he breathed.

"E-Excuse me…?"

"What you called me," he said, smiling happily. "Say those words again, brave Knight."

"That you're a Hero?"

"Yes, yes, YES!" He released me and turned on the spot, arms wide as he cackled towards the ceiling. "Oh, how I've longed to hear those words again. Yes, I am a Hero. I am the Hero. I am the one – he who everyone loves. Oh, but you are not from around here. I recognise that accent. You're from Vale, our dear neighbour. I suppose you would not know, would you?" He turned again, smiled at me, but then sneered at Pyrrha. "Why don't you tell him who I am, Mistralian."

"You're no one," Pyrrha said.

Tyrian shook. His eyes closed and he bit his lip so hard blood flowed free and dribbled down his chin. It dripped down onto the floor and there was a strange hum of energy from the altar behind him. It whisked up dust and soot and deposited it once more.

"That's right," Tyrian eventually said, releasing his lip with obvious effort and revealing blood-stained teeth. "I am no one. But I was not always no one. I used to be someone. I was Tyrian Callows, Paragon of Mistral. Ahh~!" The tall man swayed to the side and clapped his hands together. "I was the greatest Hero of Mistral. Everyone knew my name, my face, my deeds. I gave my life to protect the people – any people. It did not matter if they were great or small, rich or poor, human or faunus. I was everyone's Hero, the epitome of what a Hero was meant to be; a Paragon not just by Class, but also by virtue and renown."

"Then why?" Ruby cried. "If you were like that, then why do this? Why hurt so many people? Heroes are meant to save people. They're meant to protect people!"

"Silence," a man behind Ruby grunted, cuffing the back of her head. She cried out in pain.

The man cried out as he was backhanded away by Tyrian.

"Do not dare to harm her," Tyrian snarled. He reached down and cupped Ruby's face, drawing her back up and even paused to wipe a little blood from her lip where she'd bit herself. "You are not wrong, little Reaper. Oh, no. A Hero is as you say. A Hero is a vision, a protector, he or she who sacrifices for the people. But tell me, little Hero. What would you do if it was the people themselves who forgot that?"

Ruby's face twisted in confusion. "I… I don't understand."

"Don't listen to him, Ruby," Pyrrha spat. "He's no Hero. He's nothing. He's forsaken."

"Forsaken…" Tyrian breathed the word and vibrated in fury, pain, or perhaps something else. His fingers tightened on Ruby's cheeks but he released her when she whimpered. He stroked the finger-marks away and took a step back. "I am that," he admitted. "I am forsaken… or rather I was forsaken. Do you know what that means, children? Do you know what it means to be forsaken?"

"A forsaken is someone who has betrayed the Kingdom," Pyrrha answered. "It's someone who has done a crime so great that no amount of atonement will ever wash it away. To be forsaken is to be forgotten, stripped from the pages of history and cast into ignominy. It is to be-"

"Forgotten," Tyrian finished, and shed a lonely tear. "It is to be cast aside and forgotten. I gave everything for Mistral. I gave my time, my effort, my blood. I would have given my life! I travelled all across Mistral. I slew every Grimm I could find. I saved every person. I completed every Quest. People sang my name. Children would pretend to be me in playtime games." He paused. "And then… and then everything changed."

"You killed the Queen of Mistral." Pyrrha accused.

"Did I…?" Tyrian laughed bitterly. "I was tasked with protecting her carriage on a journey to Haven. When the Grimm attacked, I leapt to the defence, slaying them left and right and saving all that I could. I led the charge. I swept aside the horde. I stood at the side of her carriage as the Ursa tried to tear it down and devour her."

"Then how did she die!? How did she not make it to Haven?"

"It wasn't my fault!" Tyrian wailed. He clutched his head in both hands and rocked his body to the side. "The Queen ordered the carriage to flee and I was knocked from it. I tried, I tried, I tried and I tried." He slammed a fist into a pillar with each word and his fists ran red with blood. "When I reached the carriage she had fled. Had she just stayed I would have been able to save her but she fled like a fool. No Grimm slew her, children. The cowardly bitch drowned in a swamp! She died because she was a coward who wished to abandon her people to escape the Grimm, and when I returned to the others, they had died as well! All dead because I had to try and save her. All except for Tyrian the Paragon, who slew and slew the Grimm that remained until all were dust!"

"But did the people understand?" he hissed, eyes wild. "No. No, they did not! The Paragon who had given all his life to the people had committed the ultimate sin. He had acted in the greatest evil. He. Had. Failed." He threw back his head and laughed. "That was my sin. That was my great crime; to have tried my hardest and for it to have not been enough. My greatest evil was failure. The King banished me, called me Forsaken, and I wandered Mistral ignored and forgotten by all. I had gone from the greatest high to the greatest low, and even the people whose lives I had saved refused to acknowledge me. I came to them a starving beggar and they turned me away. Turned me away," he repeated, laughing. "When they came to me with no lien for a Quest, I did not turn them away. No, Tyrian Callows dismounted his horse and gave of his time to help the poor people of Mistral. Tyrian Callows bled and suffered and fought to save their children. But they could not spare bread or water for a dying man. Not even for the Paragon of Mistral?"

He surged forwards and gripped my face, turning my eyes up to meet his – and it was then that I saw the insanity in them. It was not the madness of one who had been born ill or different, but the madness of a man who had been broken. There were tears in his eyes as he stared into mine.

"Where is the justice, Knight?" he demanded. "You are a Knight. You are one who fights in the name of justice. Well, where is it? Where is my justice? Why was Tyrian Callows cast aside for trying so hard? Why did I suffer for the sins of another?"

"I… I don't know," I gasped.

He released me.

"I suppose you would not. Ah, but it is not your fault and I do not blame you. To talk to me, you have already fulfilled one of my greatest dreams. Do you know that it is a crime to acknowledge a forsaken? Most would ignore me even if I lay dying at their feet. But you – a Hero – would talk to me as if I were an equal. Ah, it makes me shiver."

Isolation. Complete and utter isolation. That and the destruction of everything he was... it was a terrible fate for anyone to face, and it had clearly robbed him of what sanity he had left.

"But why do all of this?" Ruby asked again. "I… what happened to you was horrible, but why hurt all these people?"

"You are a sweet child," Tyrian giggled. "Why? Is it not obvious? What is at fault here is not I. It is not my ideals, for what could be cruel in wanting to be everybody's Hero? No, the true disease that eats at this world is not the world itself, nor the people. It is those in power who would selfishly cast away the innocent to cover their own hides. The Queen of Mistral could not be seen as a callous coward who would let her people die to live. My truth could not be known, so they made me forsaken. Made it so that no one would hear or listen to it. They might even have killed me were they strong enough, but a life of slaying Grimm does not make that easy."

"It is the Church who is to blame," he continued. "It is they and the Noble Caste who support them, who sit in their ivory towers and feast off the hard work of the common man and woman. They have power but no responsibility. They do not understand what suffering is. That is why… that is why they all need to go. This system, this twisted system, it needs to be changed."

"You want to remove the Caste system?" Pyrrha gasped. "Are you insane!? The world would fall into anarchy!"

"Insane, I?" He cackled at the ironic question. "But no, Champion," he spat the word, "I do not intend to destroy the world. The world must continue to function, no? Mistral needs its faith, it needs its Caste system, for if we do not have that then what would we believe in? It needs its ruler, its God, and it needs its Heroes. All I suggest… is a different entity to fulfil that position. One who would never forsake those loyal to her."

He raised his hands high, and the two Greycloaks on either side of him drew their weapons. I winced and closed my eyes, prepared for death, but was forced to open them a second later when the pain never came. The first thing I saw was blood. It was rich and fluid, running between the cracks in the flagstone tiles. As I looked up, I also saw the two Heroes who had drawn them – and my eyes widened as I realised what had happened.

They'd driven the swords into their own bodies.

"A Paragon would never demand sacrifice from those unwilling to give it," Tyrian howled. "I will create a new world that will be fair and just. I will never ask those unwilling to suffer. I will never cast aside those who try their hardest. Who else will join me in creating this?"

"I will!" someone cried. It was behind me and I felt one of the hands holding me down relent. It was followed by a quick ring of steel and a gurgle, and blood splashed past my shoulder as a heavy weight thudded to the floor.

What was happening…? They were killing themselves. I glanced to the side, past Ruby's pale face and shaking frame, in time to see another woman, a Cook, take a thick cleaver to her own throat and spill her lifeblood across not only the floor, but Ruby's back as well. The Reaper clenched her eyes shut and whimpered.

More dust was kicked up behind Tyrian – motes swirling about the raised platform that so closely resembled an altar I'd convinced myself to forget. Buried down beneath horrors and trauma I'd prayed I'd never have to see again.

They were summoning her; the creature from my nightmares.

"Stop!" I roared, struggling to my knees. "Stop! You don't know what you're doing!"

The villagers behind me held me down even harder. It was too late. As more and more took their own lives and the floor ran red with blood, the altar began to shake. The dust that had formed clouds darkened, turned purple and black, and then began to spin into a large wheel in the air. I heard Ruby and Pyrrha cry out their own warnings but it was for nothing. Two red eyes appeared from within, followed by a pale face.

But it was the presence that struck the hardest. My heart froze, my lungs too, and it felt like the blood in my body might cease to circulate. The people behind me gasped and sagged, releasing me, but I no longer had the power to move at all. A great, crushing, weight pushed down on my shoulders and each breath was tortured.

Ruby sagged even further, falling to hands and knees with her face planted against the ground, almost like she was worshipping, as well. Pyrrha wasn't much better, but was able to stay on hands and knees, albeit her elbows shook violently.

Tyrian seemed unaffected.

"She has come!" he cried. "Rejoice brothers and sisters. No more lies. No more inequity. No more bowing under a false God. Mistral would have us worship a human – but I give you something more. It is fitting that we begin here where the true faiths begin, for I give you a true Goddess!"

A shockwave shook the amphitheatre, rattling the pillars and blowing people to the floor. The woman, Grimm, demon, floated before the altar once more – and this time, her saccharine smile felt like nails raking through my mind.

"As I have been summoned, so have I come," the woman crooned in a voice that shook my bones and stole my breath away. "And what an interesting display I find before me." Her eyes fixed onto mine. "I do so love familiar faces..."

Salem, Queen of the Grimm.


Well, this chapter was harder to write – mostly because I wanted to get a certain amount of things in and set up this big moment. Tyrian was also tough because I wanted to give across his story in Forged Destiny, but I didn't want it to become an info dump. Sadly, I… kind of half-failed. It's an info dump. Oh well, at least it's an original info dump.

And so, things are very different from how our Heroes expected it. The villagers are not kidnapped. The Heroes are killing themselves. Tyrian is an ex-Hero and quite the dedicated one at that.

And yes, cue obligatory "HI SON!" comment from Salem. "Mooom, I'm trying to have an adventure." "Oh, is this your girlfriend or is it the redhead? Oh silly me, they must BOTH be."


Next Chapter: 18th December

P a treon . com (slash) Coeur