Chapter 8: Greeting ghosts.

There are various reasons for ghosts to linger in this world, the two main ones being either a deed they have not finished, or fear for what awaits them beyond for a deed they did finish. Either way, this tells us something of the type of people who primarily become ghosts.

The Beacon Tower is a place of many secrets and rumors. For a place so renowned, there is surprisingly little knowledge as to what actually happens in this colossal clock tower, visible from every corner of Vale. One of the bigger subjects for debate is the origin of the green orbs that can be seen constantly shifting and switching places near the tower's apex. Some say those are a weapon of immeasurable power, entrusted to the Huntsmen for protection to make sure it is not used by any political or private power. Others claim those are alien life forms captured and imprisoned there. One thing that the public agrees on is that those orbs are what earned the Academy its name: visible even in the darkest of nights, they serve as a beacon for naval vessels and airships alike, lighting the way.

Even more controversial, however, is the persona of the inhabitant of said tower: Professor Ozpin, executive headmaster of the Beacon Academy. "Enigmatic" would be an understatement when describing him. Barely seen outside the academy grounds, the story of his upbringing or even his lifestyle is shrouded in more mystery than the origins of Grimm as a phenomenon. All that is truly known about him is his appearance and the fact that he had been leading this fine establishment for what seems to be the entirety of its existence. Rumors are that he had discovered the secret of immortality through extensive mastery of his aura and manipulating the human genome. Others believe that he had been conducting inhuman experiments in the depths of his tower, where no ordinary human ever set foot. There are even claims that Ozpin is not even his real name, but merely a title, passed down the generations of Beacon headmasters, which would explain why "Ozpin" has never been found on any kind of color palette. Funny thing, though: not once did somebody decide to actually answer that question once and for all and dig enough dirt on him that it would be worth publishing. I wonder why. It's not like I bite.

Sitting in his comfy armchair, Ozpin turned away from his table to take a glance at the view unfolding before him from the tower, the only thing disrupting the silence being the rhythmic clicks of the clock ticking before his eyes. For a minute, he simply sat in silence, counting the ticks, listening to the gears rotating.

The clock truly is one of the greatest inventions of mankind… Right after coffee.

As he turned back, he glanced at the mug sitting on the right side of the table, filled to the brim with steaming brown liquid. He carefully lifted the cup from the massive round table and took a sip from it, closing his eyes for a split second as the coffee slowly slipped down his throat.

He took a look at the room he was in, his usual cabinet where he worked. While it had the shape of a perfect circle, leaving no corners to hide in, there still were some dark spots in it because of its sheer size, as the sun could not fully illuminate its entirety. Ozpin did not mind. After all, everything in this room was kept in perfect order and balance. Why not balance the light and dark as well?

He put the mug back, making sure it faced the exit with the sigil of the academy, as always, and brought the screen of his computer to life with a sleight of hand. Several clicks later he was left gazing at four windows displaying the matchups of the pairs.

Ruby Rose and the young Schnee. Maybe the latter will get the former to actually do her homework. The girl could use some level-headedness.

Lie Ren and Nora Valkyrie. Virtually the same, but I have to admit, the amount of self-control shown by Ren both in combat and in everyday routine is downright impressive. Maybe I should gift him a sedative or two. Anonymously, of course.

Jaune Arc and Miss Nikos. My job has never been easier. That being said, I already see myself catching flak from Glynda for the mere fact of not booting him at the first stage. We shall see if responsibility is what it takes for him to clean up his act.

His ponderings were interrupted by the sound of an elevator leading to the small foyer adjacent to his office opening and a knock on the front door.

Finally.

Minimizing the screen, Ozpin grabbed the mug and spoke:

"Come in."

The door slid open with a quiet creak – sure sign that it was high time someone qualified took a look at it – and a figure in jet-black armor walked in, the impact of his steel boots slightly muffled by the fine carpeting. The insulating vest he wore beneath his chestpiece covered his arms, but Ozpin knew full well that underneath the nanofiber mesh there was a stitch about a hand long covering an almost fully healed wound by now.

Before making so much as a step further into the room, Darius pressed his right fist flat against his chest and craned his head in a tight bow, something the headmaster couldn't help but slightly smile at. The greeting was a picture-perfect salute of the Atlesian Army, which lined up nicely with his background as Field Medic Lance Corporal of the 38th East Solitas Motorized Company… as far as the official enrolment papers were concerned, of course. Something told him, however, that although this new Hunter aspirant might just have had the skills to fit the bill, he was unlikely to find even one soldier in said 38th who'd remember serving alongside Darius, something that certainly couldn't be attributed to the overall mundanity of his character, least of all in Atlas. If nothing else, credit was due for sticking to the bit.

With formalities out of the way, the student-to-be made his way towards his table… only to stop about halfway as soon as his foot touched down on a spot of carpet that was, frankly, utterly indistinguishable from the rest, freezing still. Anyone less attentive would never have caught this, but, of course, Ozpin was the only other person present in the room, and it did not escape his notice how the Atlesian's eyes widened to an unnatural degree for a split second, darting to look at the wall to his side before the black of his pupils almost drowned out everything else, and then immediately returning to their natural state. Only his features appearing just that slight bit sharper, something easily written off as the room's lighting playing tricks on him, gave away his alert.

Ozpin was beginning to think he might have just struck gold.

"Professor. You wanted to see me?" When Darius' voice came out, it was as level as one would expect from someone perfectly at ease; what little husk there was came as no surprise considering he just returned from live combat. "I did," Ozpin nodded. "Although I expected to see you slightly sooner. Have there been complications along the way?"

Darius gave a faint half-smile:

"If you could call it that. Professor Peach insisted she patched me up before I set foot off the airship. Have you not received the report from her?"

Truly, a kind soul.

"I did. Nevertheless, it never hurts to check," he took another sip from the mug and gestured at a nearby chair. "Please, have a seat."

In place of a response, the young man instead shot him a prolonged look interspersed with another fleeting glance at the empty spot of the wall, before lightly shaking his head:

"I appreciate the offer, Professor, but if it's all the same to you, I'd much rather stand. I got rest aplenty waiting for evac."

"If you say so."

"If I might," his eyes narrowed, Darius inclined his head as he pressed on, yet did not move an inch from where he stood. "Was there a particular matter you wished to discuss with me?"

"Multiple, actually. First, I would like you to meet someone," with this, Ozpin turned in the chair, facing the very same spot of the room that had attracted Darius' attention from the outset. "Qrow, I'm afraid you've been made. Introduce yourself."

With a quiet buzz, a chrome-tinged silhouette materialized from the shadows, soon assuming the shape of a broad-shouldered man in his middle forties, clothed in a red shirt and a black sleeveless vest tied very loosely, complete with a black cape held in place by two cross-shaped clasps, reminiscent of those on Ruby's cape, if a few sizes larger. His face, however, was far more peculiar than his clothing, extravagant as it was. While the left half of it was perfectly normal, the most memorable feature being an eye of light brown color, his left had been replaced with cybernetics, along with the lion's share of the frontal bone on that side of his face. Stylized like a feather of a great bird, that plate of dark green metal encircled his orbital plate and spread all the way to his temple, the peculiar compound bending with surprising plasticity and affording an otherwise unattainable degree of expressiveness to his features.

Even more unnerving, however, was the eye itself. Seemingly lost in a fight, it was replaced by a camera shaped like a gear with eight cogs facing inwards, while a four-cogged gear played the role of an iris, darting around the empty space, blue like ice. Dark hair completed the set of his features, combed back to create an impression that it was constantly blown away by the wind. With a quiet laugh, Qrow Branwen stepped out of the shade. Once the optic camouflage, or whatever other systems allowed him such uncharacteristic stealth for how much metal he was lugging around at any given moment, shut down completely, the figure spoke, his dry voice accompanied by a… less than subtle metallic distortion:

"At least he's not completely oblivious, unlike half of this year's roster. That alone nets him a point in my book. How did you see me, kid?"

It took no more than a handful of seconds for Darius to adjust to the new reality of the conversation, and after slowly shaking his head he replied:

"I didn't, Sir," he looked pointedly at his right foot when it dawned on Ozpin. With Qrow hiding in the western end of the room and the meeting taking place firmly in the evening hours, the resulting shadow extended all the way to the middle of the room, its angular border ending in the exact spot where his foot remained motionless from the moment he put it down. "You were standing in my shadow."

"Fascinating," Qrow chuckled. "I was just about ready to write off the lot of you as a gaggle of lunatics."

"Our guest would not be standing here if I wasn't confident in his capabilities, or that of the organization behind him. I believe today's performance should have laid every doubt to rest," Ozpin cut into the conversation decisively, not in the least to take the focus off his colleague's express cynicism. "Darius, allow me to introduce Qrow Branwen. His work here involves a degree of finesse, so to speak-"

"No need to beat around the bush, Ozpin," the man interrupted, though if nothing else it appeared he took the hint. "If they're anything like you're making them out to be, he already knows what I'm about. I'm the school's spymaster, or, as Ozpin would put it, chief of intelligence. I will be your supervisor for the duration you are employed by us, that is to say for the entirety of your training and then some. You will be undergoing your specialized training under my control and you will answer directly to me. Insubordination will not be tolerated. Am I understood?"

It was all Ozpin could do to not let his teeth be heard grinding against each other. Fact of the matter was, Qrow wasn't understood, clearly, and every consecutive sentence was steadily eroding what meager goodwill he had managed to build up with Darius over the handful of interactions they'd had – exactly one before this, really. The Atlesian wouldn't be caught dead showing this, of course, his impassive expression unchanging in its display of attentiveness, but Ozpin wouldn't have gotten where he was if he let something like mimic get in the way of reading people, and the way his eyes grew colder with every word told him everything he needed to know about the way the conversation was heading. Mediation was in order.

"Please don't be intimidated by the cold open," putting on his best cordial smile, Ozpin once more wrested the reins of the conversation from his colleague's hands in as gentle a manner as he could manage. "Among other things, inducting prospective students into our intelligence pipeline is also on the list of Qrow's duties. Candidates of your expertise are… few and far between."

"Spoilsport," the cyborg chuckled, yet despite the seemingly flippant attitude the numerous hints clearly didn't simply pass him by. Taking his place at the side of Ozpin's table, the conversation began in earnest. "You have me unearthing the dirtiest secrets of this realm and you don't even let me have the rare chance to wring some fun out of it."

"It may have something to do with you doing it at your subordinates' expense, Sir," Darius spoke up for the first time in a good while, and while his expression could, at best, be called 'distantly cordial', his eyes, currently locked with Qrow's, were as sharp as ever. "Which, I'd like to clarify before anything else, is not what the dynamic will be like going forward. While we're always open-minded towards new practices, the Order is not a sleuthing agency for hire."

"No doubt," the headmaster nodded lightly. "Hammering out the details of how we want this partnership to take shape is another reason why I have invited you here. We've ample time before the ceremony takes place."

An opportune thought crossed his mind.

"Speaking of which," he mused, allowing the new distraction to take hold of the flow of the conversation. This could be as good a chance to cool tempers as any, he thought. "Might I see the relic you've retrieved?"

Darius' eyebrow quirked, perhaps taken aback by the sudden shift; nonetheless, he reached into one of the multiple pouches across his belt as he covered the distance between himself and the headmaster's table in a few strides, producing the carved piece and setting it in Ozpin's reach, before retreating some steps back, keeping both him and Qrow in his view. Despite the severe tribulations endured by his gear, the black queen remained completely unscathed.

"I applaud your judgement in picking one of the few unpaired pieces," satisfied, Ozpin set it back on the table, picking out a spot where the evening shadow slowly began creeping up its considerable surface. For a fraction of a second, the shadows at Darius' feet seemed to thicken with color, the pale shade suddenly pulsing with midnight black, and in the next moment the queen was gone, while the Atlesian clasped his pouch shut. "Contacting you during the trial was… troublesome, so I had to put my faith in your abilities; I'd like to say I'm reasonably impressed by what I saw. Did you figure out how the teams would be formed then and there?"

The intense focus in the young man's eyes seemed to wane somewhat, his eyebrows furrowing as recent memories all but visibly replayed inside his head; then, evidently having seen everything he needed, he lightly nodded to himself.

"Can't say it was much more than a hunch, Professor," he shrugged. "The queen piece simply looked… thematically appropriate, let's say."

"Confident, are we?" Qrow's harsh baritone cut between the two like a knife. "People sacrifice pieces in droves just to keep their queen in the game for another move. I wonder how many sacrifices you think you're worth? How many do you even have?"

If metaphors had any bearing on the real world, the headmaster's coffee would likely have frozen solid in that very moment, so drastic was the change in atmosphere that prevailed in the office. By Darius' eyes alone Ozpin could tell he was going through much the same motions as he was earlier, trying with all he had to not grind his teeth with muted fury.

"None."

When at last he had regained his voice, this was all he said in response. Watching the carefully constructed veneer of sophistication and the faint superiority befitting someone of his upbringing melt away layer by layer was downright educational… were it not for the fact that this meant Ozpin stood a very real chance of antagonizing him completely before the end of the conversation.

Qrow had best know what he's doing.

"By the nature of my vocation within the Order, my duty demands that I upturn the very earth before I make the call to sacrifice even one of my brothers and sisters. This being your first actual question to me does not inspire confidence."

By virtue of having worked alongside him for a good few decades now, Ozpin could generally predict his colleague's behavior at any given moment with reasonable accuracy. Him breaking out in cackling laughter was… alas, not completely unexpected, if somewhat out on the fringes of probability.

"Relax, kid," having evidently discovered the exact boundaries one could push against in a conversation with the Atlesian, Qrow seemed more than happy to back down. "Just testing you. You've gotta understand; ideological prep is, necessarily, also a part of our pipeline. We're not educating clerks, after all. Having someone come in with their very own brain worms means we have to check for compatibility one way or another. I think you'll find we'll get along just fine in the field."

"I should hope that is the case," following a very long look at Qrow, Darius, too, seemed to pipe down some, nodding slightly. "Then I'd like to apologize, as well. Chess and chess-adjacent metaphors are a bit of a sore spot for me."

A brief chuckle was shared between the three men.

"On a serious note, however," just as soon as a faint grin appeared on the young man's face at his self-effacing humor, it was gone. "As far as I understand, this is a rather unique situation for both of us, Professor. You seem… uncommonly knowledgeable about the way the Order operates, so I suspect you also know where my loyalties lie. In light of that, might you indulge my curiosity and outline exactly what expectations you have from our arrangement?"

"You're certainly correct in your initial assessment," Ozpin replied. "To this day, this is the first attempt by your Order to infiltrate Beacon in the history of this venerable establishment; really a rather bizarre event if one considers the primary reasons for Beacon's, and the other academies', existence. All the more reason, then, that I remain on top of this development, even though I have every confidence that your goals are, ultimately, not malicious, or even detrimental to the academy's wellbeing."

Eyes narrowed, he took the time in the brief pause that naturally followed this densely-packed, but ultimately quite lean on meaning word-salad to study the Atlesian's features. Unsurprisingly, Darius' expression remained wholly ambiguous, save perhaps for the vaguely guilty smile that emerged in conjunction with him slightly shrugging, the gesture altogether conveying no guilt whatsoever.

"Nothing gets past you, Professor Ozpin. Indeed, it is regrettably rare to discover someone among our ranks capable of enduring the rigors of Hunter training, which goes double for Beacon. My own aptitude came as somewhat of a surprise, and an opportunity that seemed unlikely to repeat."

…If you say so.

"In that case," the headmaster returned the smile as he gestured towards Darius. "Perhaps it's best we put that hypothesis to the test before any talk of expectations. A few weeks, maybe, to allow you to acclimate to your new schedule?"

"I certainly hope you're not implying I'm not up to snuff."

"I only mean to say that Beacon, as you've correctly surmised, will be unlike anything you may have come to expect," Ozpin shook his head. "Even though I freely admit that, based on your performance, you can count yourself among the best-prepared in this year's roster."

This time around it was he who found himself under the Atlesian's investigative gaze. Piercing grey eyes, far too intense to belong to someone so young, even the military type as his papers claimed, searched for any sign of insincerity, or anything that would give away insight into what remained unsaid. They would find no purchase, of course, but neither of the two were under the delusion they fooled one another. Darius nodded.

"I shall endeavor not to squander this unique opportunity, then. The Order stands to benefit greatly from having an ally such as yourself. Will there be anything else?"

"You'd best believe it," beside them, Qrow's distorted voice once again cut into the conversation. "Since the headmaster himself is apparently too polite to mention it, I will. I sure do hope you don't intend to introduce yourself to the academy under your real name."

It was true. The matter was the kind of metaphorical Goliath in the room that Ozpin, if only for the sake of satisfying his own intellectual curiosity, meant to address at some point in their talk. He would certainly have done it with a good deal more tact than that, though, Qrow's approach accomplishing it with about as much grace as the aforementioned Goliath.

"As a matter of fact, Sir," turning his head to face the spy, Darius replied in a pointedly even tone. "I was planning to do exactly that."

His eyes narrowed as he stared into Qrow's synthetic counterpart.

"Is that a problem?"

"Don't give me that look," the man frowned, a dismissive wave of the hand encapsulating his attitude towards the question and the unspoken accusation. "I'm sure you can see quite plainly that I wouldn't even be standing here in front of you if not for your pop's efforts. I've got no beef with you. Not on that front, anyways. But I can't say the same for a good number of people here, nevermind the fact that simply knowing who you are will make people study your every move under a microscope, something generally undesirable when you've got something to hide."

"Very bluntly put," Ozpin nodded along. "But also quite to the point. If unneeded infamy is something you'd rather avoid, I'm not against introducing you under a different name in the ceremony. Assuming, of course, that you hadn't revealed yourself to your fellow students already."

"And have people shape their perception of me based solely off my words and actions? Why, that sounds like a nightmare scenario for an infiltrator, Professor," Darius shook his head, eyebrow cocked in faux indignation at the very notion. "But perhaps it's simply a difference in outlook. Viewed through the lens of our trade as we do it, I possess a cover story like no other – one that actively discourages people from getting too close to me, nevermind the added benefit of surrounding me with meaningless gossip that invalidates any information about me. I'd say it suits my goals just fine."

"And I trust you've taken into account that this will also apply to the team you'll be assigned to? Ones you'll live and fight alongside with?" the headmaster rebuked.

"You wound me, Sir!" the smile on the Atlesian's face grew larger. "I would never let something so petty as 'established stereotypes' get in the way of making meaningful human connections, regardless of who they apply to. Especially with people I'm expected to risk life and limb with and for."

"Heh! Seems to me like he's got it all figured out, old man," to Ozpin's side, his colleague chuckled, though the sideways look he threw his way conveyed anything but amusement. "Using his family's history like one of those bloodsoaked rags they use for that one blood sport in Vacuo, genius, really. Gotta wonder if his parents would be proud or fuming at such flippant handling of the ol' legacy, though."

There it was. A single crack in the mask. His stunned reaction alone was testament to the effectiveness of Qrow's underhanded jab: blinking slowly, his eyes bored into the spy as he stood silent for an unfathomable five seconds straight, perhaps struggling to even comprehend the reality of what he heard. More perturbing still, however, was the actual emotion that read clearly in them once the realization set in: not shock, not even anger, but rather… uncertainty. An outright internal conflict, as though perhaps the young man believed there to be some merit in what was clearly an attempt to get under his skin.

Or was there something beyond that? Something, perhaps, that even he could not see?

It was at this point that it occurred to Ozpin that his and Darius' eyes locked, the Atlesian having shifted his gaze from Qrow and now stared directly at him, no doubt aware exactly how much he just gave away. Breaking the lock by craning his head to the side and briefly shrugging at the same time, Darius responded in a conversational tone as though talking about the weather, the only acknowledgement of a, let's face it, quite successful probing attempt on Qrow's side, being a slight half-smile.

"Well, if you must speculate on the matter, Sir," he said. "You would probably be interested to know that my family, may they rest peacefully in the Light's embrace, would have found your initial suggestion utterly insulting. An outlook I, purely by chance, no doubt, happen to share. The restoration of my family's legacy does not begin with me shamefully hiding my birthright for fear of public scorn, of all things."

As he spoke, the half-smile glued to his lips grew colder and colder in direct correlation with his eyes growing sharper, a voracious darkness emerging from deep within his pupils as an immutable reminder of his true allegiance.

"And in our Lady's limitless grace, this outlook does not conflict with my mission; thus, I am permitted to freely indulge in it. To continue my service to Her with my heart free of conflict and doubt is my greatest wish, for I am but Her humble servant."

He nodded to Ozpin.

"With your permission, I shall rejoin my fellow students. I'm certain some of them are already beginning to wonder where I disappeared off to."

He returned the gesture.

"We wouldn't want to tip them off too early."

As the muted thumping of his powered boots faded into the distance, terminating entirely as the great door to his office swung shut, the headmaster once more reached for the still steaming cup that was all but forgotten during the conversation. A single sip of blessed caffeine washed out some of the tenseness he wasn't even aware of until sweet relief replaced it. Setting the cup back down, he leaned back in his chair to look at Qrow, whose glum disposition gave him an all-too-striking likeness with his namesake.

"Well then, old friend. What say you of our new colleague?"

Immediately a scowl spread across the spymaster's features.

"Don't even start this shit with me, Ozpin," he spat out. "I've made my opinion on getting entangled with those freaks perfectly clear multiple times, but damn if this little piece of work didn't just demonstrate every reason why. Damn spook couldn't have done it better if he wanted to."

You're one to talk.

"Events have been set in motion which we cannot just turn a blind eye to, Qrow."

"My skin – what's left of it, anyways – crawls every time the little revenant opens his mouth. There's a reason we cremate our dead – specifically so that nothing decides to have some fun with the husk that's left."

"Very dramatic. Chin up: the resolution to our little wager looms not far over the horizon. Does that not excite you?"

"If we're lucky, neither of us will live to see the answer."

"Russel Thrush! Cardin Winchester! Dove Bronzewing! Sky Lark!"

Watching four boys enter the scene, Blake couldn't get rid of a feeling those were not the people to be friends with. The fact that in the two hours they had to get themselves back into shape before the ceremony the four of them already managed to pick on some Faunus girl only further confirmed her suspicions. Scum. All of them.

"The four of you retrieved the black bishop pieces. From this day forward you will work together as Team Cardinal. Led by…" the headmaster paused for dramatic effect. "… Cardin Winchester!" Even from where she was standing Blake could see a smug grin spread across the face of a boy with burnt orange hair and blue eyes, too pure and innocent in color for the attitude he was sporting. His size and very considerable bulk did not help.

Something's wrong.

She looked around, trying to locate the disturbance, but found nothing. Still, something was up in the air, and that something was not going to leave her mind in peace until she found out what that was. She shut her eyes in an attempt to slowly filter out all the outside stimuli until she understood what was driving her insane, but it was clearly not something visual. The ears soon followed, and although she could not cover her other pair of ears without blowing her cover (or without growing an additional pair of arms), her hearing was impaired enough to let her understand what was irritating her. As in most cases, it was her nose that picked up someone's scent, one of the more common traits of feline and canine Faunus. The façade may be human, but the predatory instincts remain, picking up a trail every once in a while. This one, however, differed from the scents one would normally expect, mainly through its intensity. Reminiscent of ozone, it scraped the throat, making breathing difficult and clouding the thoughts: someone was losing their mind from panic.

Slightly shaking her head to get back into the real world, Blake looked around yet again, scanning for anyone looking suspiciously nervous, but saw nothing but anticipation written on the faces of her future colleagues. Strange.

The two massive screens in the middle of the scene lit up again and Ozpin spoke, calling another group of four and shifting her focus back to the stage:

"Jaune Arc! Lie Ren! Pyrrha Nikos! Nora Valkyrie!"

As the four entered the scene, Blake couldn't contain a quiet chuckle at the sight of the orange-haired girl bouncing on her heels from excitement. At least someone's having fun here.

"The four of you retrieved the white rook pieces. From this day forward you will work together as Team Juniper. Led by…" another pause. "…Jaune Arc!"

Seeing the boy in white plating take a step back from shock, she slightly arched her brow. Seems like everyone involved is surprised… Aside from Pyrrha, maybe. She heard Jaune mutter something she could not quite understand, to which the headmaster said: "Congratulations, young man.", clearly attempting to inspire the flustered boy. However, the solemnity of the moment was completely ruined by the redhead giving Jaune what was supposed to be an encouraging nudge, but resulted in her almost knocking him over, eliciting a faint giggling across the public. Didn't say "sorry". Hm.

"Blake Belladonna! Ruby Rose! Weiss Schnee! Yang Xiao Long!"

The quartet ascended the stage, accompanied by the two screens displaying their profiles for all to see. Standing next to Weiss, Blake sighed in resignation. Lucky me, ending up with a Schnee. At least the other two seem decent enough.

"The four of you retrieved the white knight pieces. From this day forward you will work together as Team Ruby." Oh my. I wonder who's going to be leading us. "Led by… Ruby Rose!"

A barely visible half-smile appeared on her face as she watched Weiss' eyes widen to the size of a golden Lien. Looks like someone didn't get it their way. Yang, standing to her left, immediately abandoned her post and rushed by to trap her sister in a bear-like hug while Blake caught a glimpse of familiar-looking pale hair. Upon further inspection the smell of ozone returned to her nose, almost making her cough. Strange. He passed, what's there to worry about? He passed, right?

She raised her head, taking a look at one of the screens. As the portraits of the four girls vanished from display, Darius' mugshot took place instead. Just him?

"And finally, Darius Silva. Step forward."

Author's Notes: In light of some of the confusion concerning a certain element present in this chapter, I'm making the executive decision to include this annotation to hopefully clear the onset confusion some new readers might be experiencing. This work has been going on for a hot minute now. The first draft of this chapter emerged way back before V3 and before we even had any concept art for characters that would be introduced in V3; hence Qrow's diverging appearance. The character symbol was the only thing known to us then, which I've attempted to the best of my ability to integrate into his actual appearance. After numerous later revisions, I have made another executive decision to retain the character design for the reason of: because. Let's not kid ourselves, if you've read this far, you know this work is already heavily AU and we're not pumping the breaks here. With that, I hope I have managed to prevent some confusion, and I wish you a pleasant further reading.