Kingdom of Patch

Signal Academy

10/37/4011 L.E.

8:47 P.M. Standard North Vale Time

(Taiyang)


All in all, this week's turning out to be a good one.

There were, of course, some shenanigans.

Grimm. Semblances going haywire. Excessive one-on-one duels. Lunch time free-for-alls. Special Forces pulling up. Bullet-riddled lecture halls. Sinkholes across academy grounds. Special Forces pulling up again. More Grimm. The water falls lit on fire. And then, of course, every-day teenage drama. Which, more often than not, is at the core of all those other incidents.

But, even with all of that, I still consider this a good week. A great week. Dare I say, the greatest week I've ever had while on duty as Headmaster of Signal Academy.

Because in all of those disasters, Yang stayed clear from joining- or instigating -said disasters. I even saw her teaming up with her seniors in trying to keep the peace and half the island from imploding.

"I have bad news and even worse news to report." The metal door to my office, painted to look like it was made out of oak wood, slid open and my vice-master, Catelyn Petrum Sanchez, strode in holding up a stack of thick plastic folders with one arm and a long white cylinder with her other. "Which one do you want me to give out first, headmaster?"

"Good evening to you too, Madam Sanchez." Looking up from my paper work, I greeted her with a smile as she made her way to the side of my arched desk. "How are your bruises doing?"

She placed the five folders onto a spot on my desk that wasn't taken up by the other plastic folders that I've been working on throughout the day.

"Well healed and barely a memory." She replied easily. "Now, which set of bad news will you want me to report first?"

Not everyone can just get pelleted by ballistics, walk it off, then call it barely a memory in the span of an hour and a half.

But I suppose that's just her being the veteran huntress that she is.

"Well, alright then." I put down my soon to be worn-out pen, the twentieth one today, and placed a marker on the page I was on before closing the folder. "Let's start with the bad-bad news."

I look up at her to meet her gaze.

And I mean 'up'.

She's seven on the dot foot tall naturally and she's always wearing five or something inch heels.

"This here-" She patted her gloved hand on the stack of folders she brought. "-is the worse news. Two of these folders contain paperwork from the military. Both of which explain why and how they're going to be hovering three Lockheed Gunships over our academy starting the next year."

...

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... What in the actual fuck?

"Lockheed gunships? And three?!" I couldn't help myself from repeating that out loud, stupefied. The sense of satisfaction and calm that I've been enjoying for the past week evaporating to make way for budding anger. "They're going to point Anti-Aura guns down at children? Are they out of their minds?"

Lockheed gunships. All the four major kingdoms have their own variants, but they serve the same means to meet the same ends. They are, one of many, engines of war built and designed to inflict maximum damage at an orbital vantage point. And in most recent centuries they've been armed with Silverine ammunition to help hunt and put down Aurics that have gone rouge as well as the 'others'.

And now they want to use them to shoot down twelve-year-old's.

"I thought the same thing when those files were delivered earlier this morning." Catelyn responded, her youthful olive face not betraying anything. But I could tell that deep in those lime-colored eyes of hers that she was feeling very violent about this. "In my sixty years of service, I have never heard of a more absurd course of action. And I have heard my fair share of absurdities."

"Do we still have the means of having that disputed?" I asked, standing up from my seat with the intent of grabbing the two folders containing basically the death warrants of my students.

"At a first glance, no." Catelyn responded while intercepting my move and handing the two folders at the top of the stack over to me. "Especially with the blood-marked decree they have from the High Council."

"But?" Sitting back down, I egged on hopeful as I opened the folder with the description "Military(1)" on its front.

"But thankfully there are still sane heads running our kingdom." She reached down and tapped on the "Military(2)" folder. "In light of the sudden surge of Aurics going rogue and wreaking havoc across the lands in recent memory, the council understands the plight from the military on wanting to keep a more stern watch over all those wielding Aura. It's still however going against a handful of laws and humnarian rights to have giant guns pointing down at the prepubescent."

I open the folder she pointed for me to read and flipped through its pages to find the decree. And when I found it, its unique near indestructible paper making it unmistakable from the others, the first thing that drew my attention were the signatures of the council members stamped with their individual blood-prints.

There were only eleven. Signifying that while it had been a majority decision to carry out the decree, I can get the support from the other five who didn't put in their signatures to counter-act this.

Hopefully.

"So as a sort of fair trial, we've been given an ultimatum. We of Signal Academy have until the end of this year to show and report zero unsolicited and unauthorized Aura-usage from our Aurics. To prove that we of Patch, and I quote, still possess enough steely fealty to heel to the Crown and all of her dominions." She continued while I skimmed through the decree's fancy wordplay. "And if we fail to do so-"

"The Island of Patch, beginning from the four thousandth and twelfth year of Luminance, will thereafter be indefinitely subjected to Martial Law wherein its denizens are under the immediate and indisputable governance of the Iron-Stags and the Gilded Hawk regiments." I finished for her. "They are actually out of their minds. Martial Law? And 'indefinitely' on top of that?"

It's been well over a hundred years since the last time the Crown enforced Martial Law on any of Vale's numerous territories.

And for that practice to be exercised now, in my life time, and on the land left in my rule.

"Viom damn them!" Letting that curse out through grit teeth, I flop the folder down on to my desk before leaning back further into my chair. A heavy sigh leaving out of me as I palm my eyes shut. "And here I was thinking things were slowly turning out for the better."

"Don't be so downcast, Headmaster Xiaolong." I hear Catelyn sound off. "We are deep in precarity, yes, but that is all the more reason for the Consul of Patch to reinforce his spirit."

I know.

I know, damn it.

But it would've been nice to actually end a week without having bigger-than-life thoughts plastered at the forefront of my mind.

"Yes-yes, I know, Madam Sanchez." Opening my eyes again to give her a quick look and a nod, I sit back up straight. "You do not need to lecture me of my duties."

I look towards the other thick plastic folders containing Dust knows what and motioning towards them.

"If that was the really bad news, then what's the 'bad' news?" I inquired.

"The other folders I've brought in contain updated details on the Academy's bills and resource spending throughout the half year, as you requested." She gestured at the stack. "But those are not the other bad news I spoke of, though they aren't rays of sunshine by any means either."

It's got to be whatever's in that cylinder, then.

"It is this here." She continued, handing over the long white cylinder she had been carrying in her other arm. Metallic, I now start to notice. "A supposed cryptex-locked scroll. Delivered by Umbra Walkers who instructed me to only have you, and you alone, open it and read its contents."

"There were more than one of them?" I probed as I took the cylinder before giving it a once-over. "Did they threaten you?"

Umbra Walkers.

Aurics that specialize with 'dark' arts honed for assassinations.

Not really the type to go around and deliver your mail for you.

What's more, once they are licensed professionals they always find themselves refraining from grouping up due to the nature of their work. So it's worrying to know three were tasked to work together to deliver something seemingly as measly as a scroll.

"Three. And they tried." Replied Catelyn coolly with the smallest of shrugs. "But even without their insistence, I know better than to pry into scrolls not meant for my eyes. Though, I will admit it does make me worry as to what message could be so dire to have assassin-class Aurics be your personal messengers."

That makes two of us.

"Did they tell you anything else aside from not being a peep?" I run my fingers across the silver engravings around the cryptex lock that kept the scroll sealed. "Like a hint as to how we can actual get this secret scroll out of its seal?"

"Yes. A poem that gives the password to that seal. A poem that only you could decipher, they told me."

"A poem?" I had to raise my brow at that.

"Blossomed in strife. Baptized in steel. Withered too soon from life, a flower with dreams of peace cut down from the garden. Leaving dragons to mourn and a seed to grow alone." She recited. "I haven't the slightest clue as to what that all means, but I trust that you do."

..

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... Ozpin, you whore-spawn.

"I see." Swallowing back the profanities that threatened to spew, I looked down at the ten metal letter-dials that made up the lock. "Well then, let's figure out what our mystery scroll has to say."

I spun each of the dials to the right letters to form the two words I knew that silver-haired fool had set as the password to this seal.

A name.

My love's name.

With a metallic click, the cylinder opened up to reveal the scroll it had been hiding. It was smaller and shorter but no less white than the cylinder it had been kept in. I grabbed it and quickly unfurled its entirety to read its contents.

And in the corner of my eye, I noticed Catelyn had turned her back to me.

Honoring her promise of making sure that I was the only one to read the scroll, I take it.

Tales have returned from the lands between.

Shadowed hands have breached the pillars of Remnant, corrupting ooze seeping into the cracks.

Turncoats break bread among us, wielding blasphemy. Readied and waiting for the horns to blow.

The night lengthens and its legions march across the board, poised and unseen.

Gather strength, hurriedly.

...

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This day just keep getting worse and worse, by Viom.

"Madam Sanchez." Furling the scroll to a close before sealing it back into its cylindrical container, I called for her attention. For which she gave swiftly with a quick and crisp about-face turn. "Have all the teachers that are still in the academy gather at the central lecture hall. Call back those that have left already, even those that are still on leave for the week, and have them accounted for within an hour."

"Consider it done." For a short moment she had that look of curiosity at my sudden burst of urgency, but she acknowledged my orders without pressing further. "And what will you want done about your daughters down stairs at the tower entrance? They told me on my way up that they were waiting for you, but I take it you won't be having those girls stay up all night here in the academy until the stroke of the sixteenth hour."

"I'll be sending them home myself. Facilitate the meeting for me until I get back." Placing the cylinder in one of my table's metal drawers and then making sure it was locked, I stood up from my seat and made for the door. Catelyn not missing a beat and matching pace with me. "And with the things we need to discuss, I very much doubt that we'll be adjourning at the sixteenth hour."

I didn't hear a response from her as my office door slid open. Neither did I glance her way to see what look she had on right now as we crossed the threshold, behind us the metal doors sliding to a close quickly after.

She and I simply shared this silent agreement that this was going to be a long night.

A very long night.

Well, sorry to say, sunny little dragon. But Dad's not gonna be able to hold up his end of the bargain and watch the eliminator final with you tonight, after all.


Kingdom of Mistral

Eritchion City

Khento Arena

10/38/4011 L.E.

15:16 P.M. Standard North-Eastern Mistral Time

(Ekard)


... Hm.

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.. Hmm.

... Hmm. Hm. Hm.

... Na na na, na na ...

-blazing!

Still my heart is blazing!

If the 'words' killed me, I don't need a new world order.

You! Soon you will-

"Oi. Focus."

The upside slap to the back of my head jolted my eyes back open. The sounds of some eighty thousand people's cheers and jeers amalgamating with the Guilty Gears song blaring through the speakers overhead once again engulfing most of my hearing.

"Come on now, Sir Will, you know that helps me calm down better." I complain to him with an annoyed grunt as I rub the back of my head with a gloved hand.

"I know, but I don't need you calm for this one, remember?" Stopping from his pacing, Coach Willis- or Sir Will as I like to call him -finally looks away from our opponent and his team across the roped-stage and focused his attention to me. "Cause that fella across the ring over there-"

"Is Leon Santas Cruz. Sir Will, it's like you haven't been harking fear into me about this guy since the eliminator started a whole year ago. I know what I'm up against right now and I'm beyond ready for him."

Not the whole truth, but not entirely a lie either. I know 'of' that gold-haired fellow that I'm going to be fighting and so does probably a large chunk of Remnant's population from what social media has been shaping him about to be as of late.

And I 'am' ready.

Another hour of nervous energy away from releasing the contents of my bladder, but ready all the same.

"Your lax attitude right now tells me that I haven't been 'harking' enough fear into ya." Sir Will replied as he stepped to my side while reverting his attention back towards our opponent. "You've fought rising talents, journeymen, and all sorts of prospects. But what you're gonna fight tonight is a whole different league, boy."

Ranked within the top five of all the four Sanction Powers.

Standing so far as my tallest opponent at five-foot-eleven.

Not a single loss on his record.

Holder of 'two' of the four champion belts.

And born with the same gold hair and deep-blue eyes that always seem to get you farther than most in most things in life.

"Coach, if I get anymore scared I will legitimately grab that white towel from your belt and wave this fight off before it starts." I glanced his way to see that he didn't acknowledge my half-joke with so much as a frown. Just an unadulterated focus at what was ahead. "So yeah, don't worry. I've got plenty of that all-natural yikes toxin pumping in me like crazy right now."

"MISTRAL!" Roared the announcer into his microphone on hand, the tens of thousands in attendance roaring their excitement quickly after. "The time has come! For the moment you've all been waiting for!"

Oh, Hezu, it's time already.

"The final sixteen round bout of this year-long eliminator tournament to decide 'who' will win the rank of Disputer and garner the 'right' to challenge the Lightweight VBA champion of the world, is coming to its final chapter." Intoned the announcer, switching fluently between Mistral-Speak and the Vale-Tongue with expert fluency. "The four judges at ring side are ready. Our referee is ready. The fighters 'are' ready! People of Eritchion, are you ready?!"

To absolutely no one's surprise, nearly everyone not standing in the boxing ring yelled out their excitement as the lights above worked their magic to set their usual awesome ambiance when a fight's nearing its start.

"To my right!" With a point- a 'very' dramatic point, might I add -towards my direction, the announcer sounded off. "Coming into this bout wearing all-yellow gloves and black with yellow trunks, he stands at five-foot-seven and a half tall and weighed in at the Lightweight limit of one hundred and forty pounds. His record in this eliminator tournament is nine wins, zero losses, with all nine wins coming by way of knock out. Hailing from and proudly representing the Saranhalli Province of South-East Mistral! Ekard, The Little Dragon, Eulicees!"

You know- Monologuing, I raise my gloved fists over my head before bringing them down past my waistline while bowing at a ninety degree angle. -I know that it 'is' a mouthful, but I really wish that they'd announce me by my full name for once.

Just once.

Just once and I'd be stoked for the rest of my life.

"And to my left-"

"The bastard didn't even bother including your amateur record." I hear Sir Will cuss under his breath as he held up my mouth guard for me to bite.

I just slapped his elbow and rolled my eyes at him as I inserted the mouth guard.

"- and wearing white with black and green trunks, he stands at five-foot-eleven and weighing in at a perfect one hundred and forty pounds. He boasts nine victories in 'this' eliminator tournament as well, all of which add to his 'professional' record of forty wins, zero losses, one draw, with twenty two of those victories coming by way of vicious knockout! This Valean native has competed and won three eliminator tournaments! He is the undefeated VBC and ABF Lightweight Champion fighting his way to becoming the next VBA Lightweight Champion of the world and win a third belt! Ladies and gentlemen, let's hear it for Leon- The Lean Languisher -Santas Cruz!"

With his very bright-white mouth guard flashing along with his smile, the man in question who just got his accolades recited with gusto strode forward a short distance before doing a three-sixty look around with his arms and green streaked white gloves spread wide.

His coach, his coach's assistant, his cut-man, his ... I think that's his water man, and the other three folks in his corner, clapping for him along with the crowd.

"And now, Referee Morrian to give her final instructions."

Letting the referee taking center stage, who I guiltily judged to be a man the first time I saw her because of her buzz-cut and her bulkiness, the announcer stood directly behind her so that he could keep the mic held up for her to use.

"Fighters and head-coach! To me!" She boomed into the held-up microphone as she pointed to both mine and Leon's corner.

Wordlessly, Sir Will and I made our way towards the referee as Leon and his coach did the same.

"Alright boys, we've gone over the rules in your dressing rooms, but I will repeat myself for clarity." She addressed both me and Leon as he and I locked gazes.

The stare down before the starting bell has always been an unnerving affair for me, but with the height discrepancy added to the mix, it's making fighting off my facial tic from showing all the harder.

"Punches below your belt line and on the back of the head are illegal and if I warn you for hitting those areas after the third time, I 'will' be rewarding the round to your opponent." Referee Morrian continued undeterred by my gradually growing twitchy smile and Leon's focused frown in response. "Remember, when I say stop you stop punching. When I say break from the clinch, you break from the clinch. So what I say, you 'must' obey."

"Ekard?" She looked to me for confirmation.

"Understood, ma'am." I responded.

"Leon?" She then looked to the man I was about to trade blows with within a mere minute or so.

"Loud and clear." He replied with the smallest of nods.

"Alright then. Clash gloves and the best of luck to both of you!"

White on yellow, glare against glare, our boxing gloves smashed together before we went our separate ways back to our respective corners.

You've got this, Ekard. You've got this in 'the' bag. You are scared, but not scared witless. Just focus on the fight plan; Use your jab, vary the jab, probe his reaction to the jabs, and take it from there. You got this.

Yougothisyougotthisyougotthisyougot-

"You've finally got that creepy smile of yours, boy, so now I know you're game for sure." Now behind the ropes of the ring, Sir Willis said to me as I made little hops on the spot. "Pump that jab out there right off the bat and throw single-time jabs in intervals to keep him from figuring out your tempo. Just focus on drawing out early his counters and once he shows you something-"

"Body shots. Make them sting. Make them count. I know, Sir Will."

"Good." And with that last word, he patted my shoulder and got down from the ring.

And across from me, past referee Morrian who still stood at the center of the ring but now without the announcer with his microphone behind her, I saw Leon's coach yell something to him before getting down the ring too.

"Eulicees, ready?!" The ref pointed to me.

I punched my gloves together and nodded hard. The familiar tight sensation of my cheeks telling me that my my facial tic was in full blast now.

"Cruz, ready?!" She pointed to Leon with her other hand.

He didn't say anything, his mouth still in that tight frown, he simply raised his gloved fists before banging them together over his head.

Alrighty then-

"Boxers, ready!"

-let's do this.

"BOX!"

And there goes the starting bell.