So, we're on the last book for Forged Destiny now – but, as mentioned, it will be a longer one. Maybe even two books in terms of length. We'll see, basically. A lot to get through to close the story.
Beta: College Fool
Cover Art: Dishwasher1910
Book 9: Chapter 1
With a final hiss of bubbling oil and one last check to be sure the tip was straight, I removed the still-hot spearhead from the oil and reached for one of the staves propped up beside the forge. Holding the cap over the end, I used the heat still radiating through the metal to burn and sear the wood, moulding it into the spearhead, then driving a single rivet through both, twisting and snapping the ends to lock it in place.
One more spear. I let it fall into the completed weapon rack and wiped the seat from my face.
"Are they finished, sir?" a voice asked.
"Those are good to go," I said to the first year stood awkwardly off to the side. Only a year or so younger than me, he still somehow managed to both look and act like a child, staring at me in awe. "Drop them off at the armoury."
The boy nodded and picked up the ten or so spears in both hands, then looked over as I rose. "You're leaving…?"
"I'm taking a break. Preferably before I collapse."
"What about me?"
"What about you?" I asked, not feeling quite as charitable as I could have. In my defence, I'd been forging for five hours straight. "Go drop those off and then see Miss Goodwitch if you've still got energy. She'll find something for you to do."
"Yes sir!"
"I'm not-" The boy was already gone. "Never mind."
Staggering out of the forge on legs left unsteady after hours of being sat down, I basked in the warm afternoon sun, which was still a damn sight cooler than my forge had been. While my Passive protected me from the fire effects of my forging, it didn't do much to protect me from the heat caused by every other facet, from hot oil to smoke and ash and just the heat dissipating from weapons as they cooled outside of my control. All of it had the insides of the forge burning as hot as any baker's oven.
My body was covered in sweat, too. My outfit, little more than a cotton tunic over breeches, was as light as I could manage without going topless yet was still stuck to my body and damp under both arms and across my back. A pounding rhythm was beating away in my skull, evidence of overexertion of Skills and the rigours of pure concentration. I was more mentally exhausted than physically, and my Constitution could have kept me going for longer if I let it.
I'd just go insane if I did. A man could only do one task for so long.
Though I had lost count long ago, I was sure I'd done at least a thousand spears today alone, added to the thousands I'd created in the last few days. Ozpin's armoury was bustling, stocked faster than the headmaster could empty it. A thousand upon a thousand upon a thousand. It seemed like so many and yet it wouldn't equip even a portion of the civilian population of Vale, who numbered over one hundred thousand.
I had to assume most of those would not be expected to fight – children and those too young or old to make a difference. If even half had to, however, then I was unsure if I'd have enough time to equip them all. I was but one man, and while other Blacksmiths, Fletchers and craftsmen in the city would be working on churning out weapons of their own, there was no doubting the fact mine were of a higher quality, and not just because of the Runes. I could forge sharper, stronger and straighter weapons. I could work with rarer material and use my Engraving to shed weight in difficult to reach places. I could custom fit it to someone in a matter of an hour and not days.
But I was still only one man.
"Done for the day, Mr Arc?"
I wearily glanced to the side and groaned, pushing myself off the wall I'd been leaning against. "Alchemist Oobleck."
"Stay as you were, Mr Arc, by all means. You look like you need the rest."
"I feel worse than I look." I tapped my head. "Up here."
"I can imagine. I might give you something for the pain, but I fear that would only make you believe yourself recovered enough to work again. The body's signals exist for a reason, and it would not do to ignore them. Here." He handed me a flask.
"What is it?"
"Water."
That was good enough. I hadn't realised how thirsty I was until he said it. Uncorking the flask, I drank deeply, sighing at the sweet taste on my tongue. Dribbling a little into the palm of my hand, I wiped it across my skin, and definitely didn't imagine how it sizzled and evaporated. That took some of the heat with it, though, leaving me tingly and refreshed.
"Are you headed for the walls, sir?"
"I am. I'll be using my skills to enhance the ammunition shot by our catapults and ballistae."
I blinked. "We have those?"
"We do now. They were half-constructed during the war with Mistral, and only completed recently. They're designed to launch boulders, but I'll be seeing if I can't concoct something a little special for our guests. Small round pots containing alchemical mixtures. Elemental blasts, explosions and more."
"Like spells launched from a catapult?"
"Why, yes. That's possibly the best description I've heard for it." Oobleck chuckled. "I do believe I'll steal that when explaining it to the troops. I need to instil some fear in them. The last thing the defence needs is them manhandling what I'm about to give them, let alone dropping it."
"Bad?"
"Explosive." Oobleck regarded me carefully, looking me up and down. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off, Mr Arc? You're not going to be bale to forge much more today, and I dare say pacing yourself over the full two months is more important than wearing yourself out in the first week."
I sighed. "You're right, sir."
"Of course I am. I'm paid to offer good advice." Oobleck winked. "I believe your Guild is working on the walls today, or on the fortifications outside them. Why don't you go pay them a visit?"
"I will." I swallowed a little more water. "Once I catch my breath."
Laughing and wishing me well, and receiving his own in kind, the Alchemist strolled off toward the main gate of Beacon and out into the city proper. I gave it another half an hour before following, taking the time to sit down on the grass and let my clothes dry out a little.
Ultimately, I couldn't bring myself to rest for too long. Beacon was a hive of activity, of students buzzing here and there like angry bees and voices raised to bark out instructions. Mages from Atlas were still busy with Ironwood's odd construction, the CCT, and seemed to be hollowing it out further and moving what looked to be wooden desks and chairs inside.
The main school building wasn't in need of further fortification, but supplies were being carted into it. Given that the school was on the eastern edge of Vale and connected to the Emerald Forest outside, which had been cut and burned back several hundred metres, Beacon would be under siege at the same time as the city itself. In fact, any Grimm attacking from the eastern quarter would technically be besieging Beacon and not Vale. As such, it needed its own storehouse of supplies to weather the siege.
Luckily, the walls around Beacon were as thick as those on the main city and connected to them – with an extra wall cutting across to form a barrier between the city itself and the academy. We didn't have any catapults sadly – even if the war with Mistral had prompted their construction, the Treaty would have made equipping a Hero school with them pointless – but what we had instead was a number of towers being built along the walls.
Outside the walls on Beacon's end, there was no construction as of yet going on. Instead, Mages were using fire spells to burn away trunks and roots that covered the ground. I personally thought it a waste to remove the tripping hazards for the Grimm but could only imagine they planned to replace them with obstacles a little more lethal in nature.
Given the far weaker defences around the city itself, most of the effort was being put into making those sections of wall as unassailable as possible. Animals took the path of least resistance, and Vale wanted to subtly push the Grimm toward an assault on Beacon if possible. It was, after all, a more fortified part of the city, and full of Heroes.
I wasn't sure how well that would work. Animals took the east path because they were intelligent enough to do so. The Grimm wouldn't care, and I had a feeling Salem would see through our ruse easily enough. The question was whether she'd care to stop it. Or if it would work as an impediment at all.
Sighing, I found myself standing and making my way toward the gate, unable to lay still while everyone else was hard at work. The guards there recognised me and let me through without any questions, onto the marble path that led down to the city of Vale.
/-/
"These are the end times!"
"And she came to us and spoke, and hark, for her fire purged the wicked-"
"Smack him one, Pete. Knock his teeth out!"
A meaty smack followed a crash as the doomsayer crashed down through a wooden bench outside a tavern. He was promptly covered in ale, while the people in the tavern laughed and jeered, and he screamed in a high-pitched voice about how they would all suffer when she came. Someone yelled something back and a few morsels and scraps of meat were tossed on the man. Mad as he was, he kept preaching.
Such scenes weren't unusual anymore. The people had been fully informed as to what was coming – a decision I'd initially thought suspect because of the panic it would cause, but as Ozpin had explained, people weren't idiots, and they would make up their own minds as to why the entire population of Vale was being evacuated and every Kingdom on Remnant was fortifying the city.
Nothing we could tell them would be worse than what their imaginations threw up. And, as foolish as it sounded, Grimm were an ever-present problem. An army of Grimm approaching was worrying but normal, even if they were suddenly ruled and controlled by someone. Decades of being told Heroes would protect them from the Grimm had left the people of Vale surprisingly calm.
Ignorance was bliss.
It was also sickening, at least to me.
There were three types of people, I'd come to realise. The first group and by far the most useful were those who worked outside the walls. They were afraid, yes, but we all were and that wasn't an unrealistic reaction. They followed orders, toiled to build the defences and slaved over forges, grindstones or looms – making anything and everything that might be useful in the upcoming siege, from weapons to bread to medicine or bandages.
The second were those who gave in to despair and wanted to hide it out. Some of them became doomsayers and some had even tried to found a religion to Salem, thinking she would spare them if they did, or that she was a God come to punish us for our transgressions. Both those reactions were based on fear; the doomsayers terrified and angry and lashing out, and the religious ones terrified of dying and trying to cling to some fragile string of hope. Many just remained silent and carried on their normal lives, trying to act like everything was okay, and seeking comfort in the mundane.
They were, for the most part, utterly useless.
Oh, there were exceptions. Craftsmen crafted, and what they made could be useful, but they continued to charge people – because they were trying to tell themselves they needed money fir after this nightmare ended, which meant there had to be an after. Those people were clinging to their normal lives and ignoring the threat outside, not putting in either as much work, or as many hours, as the first group.
The third kind were what Weiss disparagingly called the `selfish pricks`. They were the ones drinking, carousing and basically indulging in any vice they could, because in their minds the best way to weather out the storm was to be drunk off their face or happily buried under some sheets with a pretty man or woman.
I'd have called them hedonists, but it was more desperation that drove them. They indulged in the now so that they didn't have to think of the future – and the possibility that there would not be one. They were loud, proud and prone to scream about how Vale had `stood up to Grimm before` and how the Heroes would `send that silly bitch packing`. There was no telling if they believed it or if they were just desperate to believe it, but they were lazy and prone to complaining when put to work, because working on defences and fortifications made them question why those were necessary, and why everyone looked so grim.
They didn't want that. They just wanted to be distracted from their woes.
What infuriated me more than those two types of people existing was that the city allowed it. No one bothered to stop them or force them to work. In Blake's words, no one wanted to waste their time, and they would just do a piss-poor job anyway, but it still rankled. I hated that while most people were out breaking their backs for our survival, these people were drinking, whoring or praying over idols of Salem.
Everyone reacts to grief in different ways, I told myself, ignoring a pair of drunken men who staggered by. It wasn't even four in the afternoon and they were in their cups. It's easy for me to take the high ground when I know what's coming. They have their reasons. I wasn't as successful as I might have liked and couldn't help but glare at them all. Sure, they might have been working to stop the doomsayer, but they were no better, in their own way.
There was a fourth kind of person as well, as much as I hated to say it. I found those when I stepped outside the main gate, this time being questioned furiously on who I was, where I was going, why and more. There was good reason for the interrogation, for no sooner was I outside than I was accosted by grubby faces and pleading hands begging for food, water, lien or shelter. Some were young, others older. Women offered themselves to me for the sake of their children, while others in the back yelled insults, asking what made it so that I deserved to live within the walls while they were consigned without, left for the Grimm to slaughter.
I'd personally tried to explain that wasn't the case numerous times and been called a liar for it each and every one. These people, the refugees, didn't want to be reasoned with. They were angry at life and were keen to make sure everyone felt it.
"Why you!?" one man howled. "What have you done!?"
I've fought monsters, faced the Greycloaks, challenged Raven and, in the last few hours alone, forged over one thousand spears for the defence.
They, I imagined, had spent those hours heckling people trying to do their jobs and muttering dire threats about how the people in Vale didn't care for them and wanted them all to die. What had I done to deserve to be in Vale, indeed? Clearly, I was spoiled and didn't deserve it.
"Cut a path!" a man on a horse-drawn cart yelled, the back stocked high with building supplies for the fortifications outside. "Back! I don't have any food in here, damn it! OI!" He turned back and yelled as several people clambered into his wagon, tearing open crates and barrels, then tipping them over, spilling nails and planks across the wagon as they searched for food. Some of the supplies were lost over the side and trampled into the mud. "Get out of there!" he roared. "Stop! Those are for the defence!"
He went ignored. A barrel was knocked over and metal spilled out. It wasn't edible, but some people began to steal it anyway – reasoning it could be traded for food if they gathered enough.
I moved over, teeth grinding together.
"Back!" I yelled, drawing my sword and slamming my fist into the flat of the blade. The sound rung out, indicating violence and causing people to scramble away. Those on the wagon still took the time to stoop and collect what metal they could huddling it close and scurrying out my path at the last possible second. I jumped up onto the wagon and stared at them all. "Shame on you all! There's no food here, only building supplies to keep you safe! And you're stopping this man from delivering them!"
"To keep them safe!" a woman screeched. "We're left out to die!"
"You'll be allowed into the walls long before the Grimm arrive. They are building accommodation for you right now."
"Liar!"
"Traitor! You're Labour Caste, too!"
"Scum!"
A nail bounced off my head, launched by some angry person in the crowd. It was followed by a rock that I batted away with the back of one hand. Their screams turned to accusations and rants, to pleas for food and insults over how I dared to stand there, a Blacksmith, fully armed and armoured like I thought I was so much better than them.
"Get moving," I said to the driver. He nodded and cracked his reins, pushing the two mares forward again and causing the wagon to trundle under my feet as we bounced along. The crowd followed, hurling insults as well as rocks, but I guarded the back, and none dared approach. They eventually gave up when we pulled clear from the refugee camp and into the large working zone outside, where barricades, traps and palisade walls were being built.
"Cunts," the driver growled. "Blasted cunts causing trouble every damn time. And it's worse when I am bringing food out to them. There's more than enough to go around, but they fight over every scrap and horde what they don't need. Causes others to go hungry, and that's our fault obviously…"
"Will this be enough building supplies?" I asked as I righted the barrel and scooped up what I could.
"It'll have to be – or I'll be sent back to fetch more. Piss." The man spat off the side and brought his mares to a stop as some Soldier Caste members approached us. "Thanks for the help, feller. I can handle it from here."
Hopping down, I nodded and made my way past several Soldiers and Heroes working under a member of the Noble Caste, who was working from a map and pointing out areas for goods to be carried to. I focused instead on the head of red hair I could see in the distance. Whether it was Adam or Pyrrha, either stood out in the crowd.
It was Pyrrha, I realised as I came close. She was working alongside Nora and under Weiss' supervision to lower a wooden pole down into a hole dug into the ground, while Yang and Ren held a wider plank horizontally, upon which the spiked one would rest and be propped up. They saw my approach and smiled weakly but didn't stop.
I nodded back and waited patiently, letting them set the log and then have Nora hammer it down, and only when Ren and Yang were happy with the plank beneath did they fully stop and turn to face me.
"Are we done yet?" Nora whined. "Please tell me you're here to take us home."
"Nearly," Weiss said, checking the position of the sun in the sky. "The bell should be tolling soon enough." Like me, Weiss was covered in sweat, though in her case a low Constitution score played a large part. The others were better off, though they all looked tired.
"Are you done with your forging?" Ren asked.
"As much as I could bring myself to manage. Maybe a thousand spears."
"A thousand? That's a lot."
"It's ten hundreds," I said sarcastically, then sighed. "Sorry. My head is killing me."
"Ha. No problem. Give us a moment and we'll be done."
I stepped back and left them to it, knowing it wouldn't be fair to get in the way of their work. Of Blake and Ruby, there was no sign. I could only imagine their Classes weren't suited to the work, Ruby especially. I wondered why Weiss was for a moment, then understood as she used a fire spell to burn the spiked tips, turning them black. They would be hardened that way as the moisture burned away. It would be more durable when the Grimm crashed into them.
And crash into they would have to. I wasn't sure if the stretch of thorny wall was all my Guild's work or not, but it was well done, nonetheless. About three hundred metres worth of wooden spikes laid at forty-five degrees, pointed up to what was about chest height on a human. Beneath that, smaller rows of spikes had been driven down that might have punctured the knees or thighs of someone foolish enough to run into them, probably for the smaller Grimm.
Each spike had a foot or so of empty space between it, ensuring that if one was broken – and they would be if enough Grimm pushed into them – they wouldn't take any other spikes with them. It wasn't a fool proof wall by any means. In fact, it was designed to be broken through, but there was a series of red flags a little further out from the wall, the barricade being within those flags.
"Siege line," Yang explained, seeing my look. "That's how far the catapults are ranged to. At least to start off." She slapped a hand onto one of the spikes. "These'll slow the Grimm down and make them bunch up, then the catapults launch on the big, blobbed mass."
Maximum casualties. "It sounds good," I said.
"There's another line further in – archer line. Same deal, but closer to the wall. We've not started building there yet as it's in the refugee camp. Apparently, we'll be working on that once the refugees are moved inside the walls."
That was something that couldn't come soon enough as far as I was concerned. I didn't doubt there would be more problems inside than out – probably reversed, with those living in the walls hating the refugees for appearing out of nowhere and ruining their city. But, at the same time, I was sure the refugees would cause just as much trouble, either through theft or just by getting in the way.
I was glad to be in Beacon. At least we could escape that nonsense.
"I don't see why they're not all sent to Atlas," Nora said as she worked. "Can't they open a portal there and just ship 'em off? They'd be safer."
"Negativity," Weiss answered. "Leaving aside the question of the cold, supplies and where they would live, everyone sent to Atlas would act as signals for the Grimm to attack there instead. And Atlas would have little in the way of defending itself since so many of its Mages are going to be here."
I was about to point out how the refugees wouldn't be negative if they knew there was no Grimm threat, but thought better of it. We couldn't even tell them they'd be inside the walls without them calling us liars. There was no way they'd accept being sent to Atlas. They'd probably assume the portal was into the mouth of a volcano, or that we were sending them straight to the Grimm. It would cause a riot.
"People are stupid," Yang growled.
"I won't deny it," Weiss said.
"Where are Blake and Ruby?" I asked.
"Blake is out scouting for Grimm," Pyrrha answered. "Ruby is working with Ozpin to deliver messages to Guilds working around Vale. Being able to move faster is a boon there and just a burden here. None of us could keep up with her, and this requires teamwork."
"Hm." I wasn't sure if she'd told anyone about what she had said to me, or what she did after. I hadn't had a chance to confront her on it.
Ruby was avoiding me.
"Are the Grimm a problem?"
"Honestly, no. We've not seen any, not even when there should be some. But Ozpin doesn't want to take that for granted, hence Blake and a whole lot of other Rogue-based Classes being sent out around Vale as scouts." Pyrrha wiped the sweat from her brow. "I'm kind of jealous. It's easier work than ours, I imagine."
Blake wouldn't have to deal with the refugees either. Lucky her.
As a bell tolled out over Vale, my friends, and many others around them, let out contented sighs and laid down their tools. A change in the shift – probably the last of the day, since it would be dangerous for people to work through the night.
"We have to wait to be relieved before we can do," Pyrrha said when I suggested they head back to the Lodge. "Didn't for the first few days, but then people started to steal tools. Someone got it in their heads to hold them ransom for food."
"Really? Are they starving that badly?"
"Not at all, but they're trying to ration when they don't have to. The refugees complain they have no food for tomorrow – but that's the point. They'll get more food tomorrow. They're supposed to eat everything each day, then get more. Not try and make it last." Ren sighed. "You can't tell them, though. They refuse to believe. I suppose it's not their fault and they're only trying to look out for their families, but it's frustrating."
"It's not surprising, though," Weiss said. "The people of Vale haven't really done well by them in the past. Most of them have probably never seen a Noble or Hero Caste before. They don't know what to believe, but they assume they're considered less important. In a way, they're not wrong."
Weiss meant it factually; that in the upcoming battle they would be less important than every Hero. It didn't make us feel any better however, and we had to wait by the tools while people watched on, until we were finally relieved by some people from Coco's Guild, who took their turns and began to fix and hammer down stakes.
As we made our ways back into Vale, the people watched us like hawks. Several tried to slip in with us, but the guards on the gates rooted them out, to much shouting and accusation. Once we were within, we faced the same on that side – people shouting for the refugees to go home.
"Blake and Ruby both got the better jobs," Yang said. "And Jaune."
"I'd argue against that," I said. "Unless you like the idea of sitting down for seven hours straight, smacking metal with a hammer in a forge that is so hot you can feel your skin burning."
Yang grinned. "I thought you looked a little red."
I wouldn't be surprised if I was. It really was hot in there.
With the work of the day over, we had free time, though the name was misleading. Free time meant eat, sleep and, if we could squeeze it in, training. No time was wasted and even conversation took place either en route to the Lodge, or while we were eating.
Blake and Ruby met us there, having beaten us back. That meant Velvet already had the food on, and we were treated to carrot, potato, leak and pork stew, served with bread. There was also some salmon on the side, since apparently some Mages from Atlas had come up with the idea of teleporting fishermen to and from Kingsport to stock up supplies of seafood.
It was a surprising idea, and a sign of just how convenient some abilities could be during a siege. We could, in fact, last out a siege indefinitely if people could use portals to reach farmland, forests for foraging or hunting or rivers and oceans. That was probably why Mistral had gone for such an underhanded tactic, because sieges when Mages existed were hardly fair.
Not that it would make much of a difference here. We weren't going to die because Salem decided to besiege and starve us out. Still, having extra food – and high protein food – would be a boon when the time came. It got us talking about possibilities for Skills, something I hadn't originally thought of, but which made a whole lot more sense now. If nothing else, talking about how Grimm could be slaughtered en masse cheered us up.
"You use Mages to set off traps of oil and pitch," Yang said around a mouthful of stew. "I bet anything I have, that's what those big holes we're digging are for. Spike traps wouldn't make sense. They'd be full after a couple of Grimm fall in."
"But Grimm disappear when slain, unlike normal animals." Pyrrha challenged. "Wouldn't spike pits be emptied as quickly as they're filled?"
"The spikes would snap under the weight first," Ren said.
"What about portals?" Blake asked. "Couldn't you create portals inside the pits, then throw the Grimm back at themselves? Or drop them from a great height?"
"The level of fine control would be difficult," Weiss said. "But I'm sure there are some Mages who could handle it. That said, they might as well open portals on the walls themselves – send the Grimm charging at us charging back into their own ranks."
"Cavalry charge?" Blake offered. "Could you make two portals and charge cavalry out of one and then back into another? Like a hit and run."
"Portals are exhausting," Weiss said. "Remember that Miss Goodwitch needed a full array of supporting Spellcasters for hers. While these plans could all work, I'm not sure they would be any more efficient than, say, fifty spellcasters hurling fireballs at the enemy."
"There has to be more, though," Nora said. "Jaune, you can make swords in your hand, right?"
"Um. Yeah. If I have metal…"
"Then couldn't a Carpenter do the same with wood? Like have a wooden fence the Grimm are running into, then BAM! It turns into spikes and they're impaled."
I considered the idea. I honestly had no idea how a Carpenter's Skills worked, or if they worked like mine at all, but it was something to think of. "Maybe. I guess it would depend on their level. Most Labour Caste are low level like I was."
"Yeah, but how many levels would they get if they did it once and killed twenty Grimm?"
Quite a lot, I imagined. If they could do it in the first place. Other ideas were thrown back and forth, from Tailors using linen to wrap up Grimm, to a huge portal being opened out into the ocean or an army of Blacksmiths creating a chain several miles long to wrap around the walls of Vale, then superheating it to a thousand degrees when the Grimm hit.
Most of them were fantastical. I couldn't generate enough heat for that much metal, nor would Vale be able to procure it – and since my Passive was unique in letting me handle it, no one else could touch such a chain. There was also no telling what it might do to the structural integrity of the walls themselves.
But they were ideas and they were filled with hope, and in some strange way that was all we needed. Hope. It was enough to have me thinking about attaching a chain to my sword, or even just making a suit of armour with little links that would spin out and clip Grimm as I fought, and which could, in theory and with immense concentration, be heated up at will to cause more damage.
More mundane ideas, and likely ones Vale was already implementing, involved ranks of Archers and Mages working together to ignite a hail of arrows. Being so versatile, a lot of the concepts included spellcasters in one way or another. I was glad again for Atlas agreeing to help us.
Because of Mistral, there was no word.
"They have to come," Yang said. "No way can they just ignore this is happening."
"They should come," Pyrrha said, taking it harder than any of us. "I just… Even with what happened, Mistral has to know they can't sit back and watch this happen. They'll certainly be next."
"I hear some people have shown up from Mistral already," Blake said calmly. "But it's freelancers for the most part. Heroes who have come on their own. There's no mention of Mistral actually calling for an alliance or sending any of its main forces."
"Maybe they don't believe we'll be the target," Ren said. "Geographically speaking, Mistral is closer to the Mirage Isles than Vale is, and they have no reason to trust Salem's word when she says she will strike at us first."
Reasonable as it was, I don't think many of us believed it. Pyrrha bit her lip and glared down into her empty bowl, and though no one would blame her, I knew she took it personally. For a Kingdom that espoused honour and duty over everything, Mistral's silence was troubling.
"There's still time," Ruby whispered. Her voice was quiet and frail, and slow – unusually slow. Like she was intentionally trying to speak at a normal rate. "Maybe they're not here because it would just waste resources. It's better to show up one week before the siege than one month."
"That's true." Pyrrha looked up, a little hope returning. "It would be better for them to aid with the defence, but maybe they think we'll be fine without them."
"We should get some training done anyway," I said, changing the subject. "Anyone up for a spar?"
"Didn't you get enough today?" Blake asked. "I'd have thought forging a thousand weapons would have given you a lot of Exp."
"I made steel spearheads with simple Runes. A thousand times nothing is still nothing." I cocked my head toward the Assassin. "You offering to spar?"
Sighing, Blake rose. "Might as well."
/-/
I'm sure the others expected Blake and I to get up to more than sparring, but they would be disappointed if they did. We fought for a bit, paused for a breather and then trained some more, with Blake throwing knives at me that I had to block, then me returning the favour by launching powerful attacks she had to dodge without deflecting.
After an hour, we were both worse for wear, not only exhausted but cut and bruised in several places. Nothing a healer couldn't take care of if needed – and with the College of Healers having sent all its students to Vale, we were no longer short on that.
No expense spared for the end of the world.
"Sorry," Blake panted. "I can't do any more."
"You normally have more stamina. Is something up?"
"Just… not feeling it." Blake swallowed and wiped some sweat from her brow. "I guess the work today was more than expected."
"Grimm? But Ren said there hadn't been any."
"Not Grimm. Bandits."
"You're joking. Tell me you're joking. No bandit would take a time like this to attack caravans…"
"Never underestimate humanity's capability for greed," Blake remarked. "Or their stupidity. No one was hurt. Me and a few others managed to scare them off without a fight taking place, but there was a lot of running involved."
"Right." I sheathed my sword, knowing Blake wouldn't be up for more. "I suppose we can-"
Startled cries from the wall nearby caught my attention, and Blake's. Soldiers dashed along the parapet, shouting out to one another and hurrying to the southern edge of Beacon's walls, the South-East quarter of Vale itself.
There was still a month and a half left. The Grimm shouldn't have been here.
Unless she meant she would attack in two months but would start the siege straight away. Shit!
I dashed toward the nearest staircase but was beaten there by Blake, even though she began moving after I did. I reached the top a few paces after her and quickly saw what had drawn the guards. It was dark out, the sun setting in the distance, but there on the horizon, thousands of red lights flickered. A great bell began to toll over Vale, and I heard the gate below us open. Riders poured out – not enough for a cavalry charge. Scouts. They rushed off in the direction of the lights, bravely risking their lives for information.
"Do you think it's Grimm?" I asked Blake. "Their eyes?"
"I don't know. It's too far in the distance to tell."
I could see the cloud of smoke rising behind the dark shapes, but, like Blake, I couldn't make out details thanks to the red light. Only vague silhouettes which, from so great a distance, were all but impossible to make out. The two of us waited nervously on the walls, joined in time not only by more Soldiers, but by students from across Beacon, the Guild included. We all stood and watched, waiting, as the mass of lights approached.
Weapons and armour creaked. Nervous breaths were drawn, and I heard someone string and flex a bow. The wood creaking as it was drawn back to test it. Arrows nocked together in a quiver as a hand ruffled through the feathered shafts.
The scouts must have reached them by now, and no panicked charge was taking place.
That had to be a good sign. It had to be.
"There is no need to close the gates," Ozpin called out suddenly, startling us. The headmaster strode along the wall, head raised and smile in place. "Those are not our enemies. Quite the opposite, in fact."
His words spread, and with them a wave of relief. Even before we could see who it was, I felt the same tension ease from me. It was incredible how much his words could sway us. Blake also relaxed, laying two hands on the parapet as she leaned forward and narrowed her eyes.
"They're torches," she eventually said. "The red is from paper wrapped around them to protect the flames from the wind. It's a huge column of people. Refugees? More? There are tens of thousands."
"Not refugees, Miss Belladonna." Ozpin came to a stop beside us. "Rather, old friends."
As they came closer, I could pick out the details at last. Brightly coloured cloth in myriad patterns, light and airy, yet covering them from head to toe, men and women both. They had scarves that could be drawn up to cover their heads from extreme wind and cold, but the nights of Vale were warmer than what they were used to, and they had those down to a man, revealing tanned faces pitted and scarred, with bright eyes and confident gazes.
The procession came to a halt in front of the walls, with one figure at the front holding out a staff. Men, women and children – ranging from eighty down to eight – stood before the walls of Beacon, having walked hundreds of miles, without a sign of fear or doubt.
"Hail to Vale," the figure called, looking up at us. He winked at Blake and I. "I heard there's a part going on. We thought we might come along and take part. We have our own score to settle with the one known as Salem."
"You are most welcome," Ozpin called. "Dark times call for old allies. I greet you in the name of the King of Vale, and bid you welcome."
"The tribes of Vacuo receive it." Sun Wukong said, raising his staff. "Let us fight and die as one."
And my sword, and my axe! Yep. It's cameo time. Sort of.
Sun Wukong has arrived. Men, hide your women. Women, hide your men. In fact, everyone just hide. Those abs are dangerous weapons that Vacuo has been developing in secret for the last eighteen years.
Next Chapter: 24th June
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur
