Chapter Five
Oscar and Ozpin had a deal. With the heat being so bad, and rainstorms only clearing out the air for a few days, Oscar would come to Ozpin's office, now that he knew where it was, to pick him up. From there, Ozpin would offer what he did and didn't need at the time and Oscar would offer suggestions if anything else needed doing.
After about two weeks, it was working out well so far. Ozpin was usually already done for the day, sitting at his desk and writing out files or ledgers, or just leaning back with a damp handkerchief over his face. Oscar often took to helping with closing up shop. He had sort of understood Ozpin's filing system, and could usually put things away in the right spot. He knew what to clean up and where to find the following day's schedule to write on the chalkboard of the front room. While Oscar's handwriting wasn't as fancy as Ozpin's, he did take pride in that it was much neater and easier to read than when he was on the farm.
But doing all these little chores also reminded Oscar that he needed an apprenticeship. He would be fourteen this fall. And while it wasn't exactly uncommon to start an apprenticeship at fourteen, it wasn't customary. People who started that late were considered dunces, from what Oscar could pick up from what his classmates were saying. Oscar doubted that was really true, but it did increase the pressure. He needed to start apprenticing. But as what? He knew he still needed to learn ledgers and bookkeeping. With his math skills much improved (thank you Ozpin!), he could do the adding and subtracting, but according to both his teachers and what he'd heard, ledgers weren't just adding things. It was filework, keeping track of bills and invoices, things Oscar had absolutely no experience in. Yet all his classmates made it sound like they already knew all about it from helping with whatever family business they grew up in.
He wasn't even ready to start an apprenticeship. And what would he even do? He was raised as a farmer, and he didn't even do the bookkeeping that was apparently natural to every occupation. His aunt took care of that because there was always more to learn out in the fields. How to mend a fence, what was wrong with a crop and catching it early, irrigation, animal husbandry, so many other aspects. And while Oscar was putting those skills to good use up on the roof garden, that didn't translate to city life. Most buildings didn't have a dedicated roof gardener, as residents treated it communally. Only the truly wealthy had dedicated gardeners and even for that, Oscar wouldn't qualify, since he was apparently considered an urchin on sight. He didn't have the manners or polite speech to be accepted by high society.
So gardening would need to just be his hobby.
But then what would he do for his career? He was still not up to snuff for math, he loved to read, and he liked using his hands. Jobs and careers that required more physical work were considered cheap labor. While a day laborer would be the worst pay, anything like carpentry or masonry or smithing, which would get much better pay and stability just didn't appeal to Oscar. Doing repairs was fine, but doing repairs every day for the rest of his life?
The worst part was that Ozpin didn't bring it up. He'd said when he adopted him that Oscar was free to let him know when he was ready, and that he'd be able to buy a good apprenticeship for him.
What would Oscar do?
Shaking his head, Oscar wiped off the chalkboard as Ozpin tidied papers into their appropriate folders. Writing out the schedule for the next day, Oscar went to the back room with the big sand reader thing and shut the window for the evening, using the bar to lock it in place.
He stared at the reader again. It was such a fascinating thing. Ozpin had mentioned that they would be stopping off soon for herbs so that the reader could be "recharged." Oscar looked at the blank sand, cleared off before he'd gotten there, and wondered how it worked.
But he heard Ozpin lever himself up, and Oscar returned to the main room.
"All set," Ozpin said, jacket over an arm and sleeves rolled up. "We'd best hurry. My leg is telling me we're getting rain soon."
Oscar nodded. At the stairs he looked to Ozpin, but his guardian was considering. "We'll see after the first flight."
After the second flight, Ozpin gave Oscar his cane and let Oscar be a support to go down the rest of the stairs. The heat was sticky, if not as stifling as the first time Oscar had come over. Oscar returned Ozpin's cane and grabbed an umbrella from the stand and opened it against the sun for the walk home.
"How was school?" Ozpin asked.
"Fine," Oscar replied. "We're still going over ledgers and bookkeeping. A lot of my classmates are already talking about what they're using in their own apprenticeships."
"I see. Are you keeping your scores up?"
"Yeah. The math part is easier after what you've shown me."
"Hmm. I believe I hear a 'but'?"
Oscar squirmed, keeping his pace slow enough to stay by Ozpin's side.
"I see," Ozpin said again. "I had a thought, if you're willing."
"Umm, yes?"
Ozpin let out a soft chuckle, running a hand through Oscar's hair. "How would you like to come to my office after school? You can start doing some of the bookkeeping and learning what all your classmates already know. You can ask me questions without having to ask your classmates. It might help you get a better idea of what you want to do as an apprenticeship."
"By the Brothers, yes!" Oscar exclaimed. Ozpin always explained things so much more clearly! "And that would give me experience for whatever my apprenticeship is."
"I rather thought so." They were halfway home, and Oscar started feeling the air shift. The wind was getting stronger. "Have you given any thought to what you wish for an apprenticeship?"
Oscar scowled against his will. "I have," he said stiffly. "I can't decide if I just don't know or if there are too many options here in the city. There's apparently apprenticeships for hairdressing. I never even knew hairdressing was a job. On the farm, you just combed your hair in the morning and got to work. Or braided it."
Ozpin gave a gentle laugh. "Did you braid your hair?"
"Til I was seven. Everyone did. At seven, after the harvest, you cut your hair and started working in the fields."
"Hm. I'd never heard of that tradition. Do you know the history of it?"
Oscar let Ozpin guide him to less pressured topics.
Before Oscar was allowed to come after school, Ozpin had given him a folder with handwritten instructions for Oscar to study.
"You'll be dealing with the public, even if you aren't my apprentice," Ozpin explained. "You need to know the rules before interacting with them."
Most of it seemed pretty straight forward. If someone was just walking in, they paid up front, no refunds. If someone was a regular (how did one do regular soothsaying? If you knew your future, why come back?), an invoice would be mailed. All transactions needed to be listed in the ledger, invoices and payments had paperwork. There was always to be three copies of an invoice or receipt. One for the customer, one for Ozpin's files in the office, and one for his files back home. Prices were listed that Oscar needed to know, and, of course, the readings themselves that needed copies for filing.
"These patterns… they're beautiful!"
"That's because life is beautiful, no matter how hard it is."
Oscar took a week to go through it all and make sure he had it all down. For the first day, Ozpin brought him in when there were no afternoon customers to go over, again, where everything was in the front room of the office, where the ink was stored, empty papers for the paperwork, a slate and chalk for scrapwork or notes, and how to make an appointment on the chalkboard schedule that was kept behind the desk.
"I usually need ten minutes after a reading before I can do my next client. Sometimes more. I always give myself fifteen minutes between clients for clearing the reader and taking my notes."
It was sort of a lot to keep track of and Oscar was starting to see why families got their children into the records early for marketability with apprenticeships.
But Oscar made sure he was prepared. Ozpin had said that most clerks balanced their ledgers monthly, but that they'd do it weekly to help Oscar learn how it was done. Oscar decided to take the extra step of balancing daily, because he felt like he really needed the practice. He kept the slate close to check his math constantly before he penned any totals.
His second day, Oscar came straight from school, and entered the office. No one was in the front room, so Ozpin had either stepped out or was doing a reading. Nodding to himself, Oscar set his school books behind the desk, and straightened out his own shirt and waistcoat. If he was going to be the first person clients saw, he was going to give a good first impression.
Oscar checked the ledger first, saw that Ozpin had had a busy morning, and grabbed the slate to start checking totals before he set about copying the invoices for records. The walk-ins already had receipts done, as Ozpin would have needed to do them on the spot. Nodding to himself, Oscar started filing, then copied the reading patterns as carefully as he could. Ozpin would check and Oscar doubted he was doing that good a job, but practice was practice.
He was just finishing his third reading when the door to the side room opened.
From the reading room an older man, bald, squinty eyes and bushy brows, came out, hunched forward with age. Oscar recognized him as a shopkeeper they passed on the way from the apartment to Ozpin's office.
"Master Ozma," the man said, "always a pleasure."
"I thank you as well," Ozpin said softly, limping out. "Ah, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Pine. He'll be helping out here after school until he can get an apprenticeship."
The man squinted over, before sighing and pulling out a pair of spectacles. "Never get old, Master Ozma, it's too hard on the body."
"Of course," Ozpin chuckled.
"Good day, sir," Oscar greeted, standing and doing the proper bow.
"Mr. Pine, this is one of my regulars," Ozpin introduced. It was also the cue that Oscar would be doing an invoice to send later, instead of needing to do a receipt now. "He comes by every week at this time."
"It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Good boy you have there, Master Ozma. Til next week."
"Have a good day," Ozpin said softly, walking him out the door. Once the shopkeeper was waved away, Ozpin came over. "I'll have the reading in a moment. My next appointment isn't for an hour or so."
"Okay."
Oscar set about making the invoice and its copies. He also copied it into the ledger, leaving the column for if it had been collected blank. A few minutes later Ozpin came out and handed Oscar the reading. "The intricacies are hard to copy down, but it will give you practice in precision if you end up apprenticing as a clerk to a well-established profession that will have you as a copyist. I'll make the copies later."
Oscar continued his work, feeling the rare breeze from the open window as summer was slowly turning to autumn as the afternoon progressed.
Later, after the next client left, Oscar was copying down another reading, admiring the swirls and lines. He wondered how Ozpin was able to see this and interpret a future. He could almost see symbols in the patterns. Some shapes looked like an animal or something, but it was a picture, not a story.
Suddenly, the door slammed open and a tall, tall teenager came in, reddish hair slicked back closer to the Atlesean style, with four others came sauntering in.
Oscar stood. "Hello and welcome," he greeted politely, offering the proper bow. "How may we help you?"
"I'm Cardin Winchester. You may have heard of me."
Oscar hadn't. "Welcome. Would you like a reading?"
"That's why I'm here, isn't it?"
Oscar nodded, feeling very small. "The price will be-"
"I'll pay when I'm satisfied," Winchester insisted, glancing at his friends who all laughed.
Oscar gave another bow, more shallow, "All walk-ins must pay in advance, no refunds."
"Just send me the invoice," Winchester growled. "Just give me a reading, you hack."
Bristling, Oscar let out a soft breath. "All walk-ins must pay in advance, no refunds."
"Come on, Cardin," one of the others laughed, steel hair cut to his shoulders. "A dump like this needs every penny they can get."
Winchester burst out laughing. "Very true, Sky. They don't guarantee satisfaction because they can't guarantee their deception."
Having seen how hard Ozpin worked, Oscar scowled. "When the reading is done, the service has been performed. To not pay for a service would be to ask for welfare. Are you asking for a hand-out reading?"
Winchester growled and the wide-shouldered teenager with blonde-brown hair stepped forward menacingly.
"Ah! Dove! Um, I mean we're here for-" the blond teen held up his hands, messy hair falling in front of his eyes. "I mean, we came to-"
"You came for a reading," Ozpin stated, stepping out from the side room, leaning on his cane. He gave an amused smile. "Or more specifically, you came to prove me a charlatan."
"Professor…" Oscar said. Clearly, if they were going to be rude, they should be kicked out. Oscar had no problem going to grab the landlord if that was the case.
"Don't worry, Mr. Pine. I will give a reading to Mr. Winchester once he pays." Ozpin pinned the group with a look over his dark spectacles. "They will pay full price, and they understand there will be no refunds. Please write out the receipt."
"Yes, Professor," Oscar said unhappily, pulling out a blank receipt.
"Mr. Winchester, if you'd join me once you've paid."
"We're coming in too!" Sky retorted.
Ozpin gave a cool smile. "I regret that I don't have room for all of you. And besides, a reading is a very private matter. I will only have Mr. Winchester for his reading." Nodding to Oscar, Ozpin retreated back to the side room, likely to set up, while Oscar handled the lien. Once Winchester had the receipt, he glanced around his group before heading to the side room, where Oscar shut the door.
The others were stuck in the office with Oscar.
"A reading normally takes about twenty minutes," Oscar said softly, irritated, but feeling powerless with these four huge, wide teenagers in front of him.
"Ah, that's fine," the blond said, sitting in front of the desk. Oscar sat back down behind the desk and pulled over his slate to double check figures and then listing it in the ledger, all the while refusing to take his eyes off the four.
The blonde sat nervously in the chair fiddling with his hands. The steel-hair, Sky, was investigating the shelves where all the records were, thankfully, locked away. Oscar was briefly glad that he hadn't had the chance to learn about those locked files yet, as they were for the time that Ozpin had been in Mistral, pushing on ten years. The wide muscle, Dove, just stood by the chalk schedule stand that was placed by the door and the last one just leaned against the wall.
Oscar kept his head down, watching carefully through his bangs.
"So… um…." the blond at the desk stammered. "Ah, I'm Jaune Arc. It's nice to meet you-"
Sighing, Oscar looked up. "Oscar Pine."
Arc nodded, glancing around nervously. "Soooooo, how did you get here?"
"I walked."
"Oh, um, that wasn't what I meant… I mean, why are you a clerk for a soother?"
Oscar grit his teeth. "The professor is a soothsayer. As for why I'm here, I need to learn clerk skills before I get an apprenticeship."
"Dunce," was muttered by one of the other hulking teens.
"Oh. Well… that's nice of the… professor."
Feeling defensive, Oscar explained. "Look, I was raised on a farm. My aunt took care of all the bookkeeping, because all of us were needed out in the fields. She died before I could start learning any of this."
"Oh, I'm sorry that happened," Arc said with sincerity.
"Another lie," the unnamed teen said, glaring at Oscar. "He speaks too well to be a country kid. Didn't Cardin say this place would just be scam artists? They're not even trying."
"Now Russel," Arc intervened.
Oscar just grit his teeth and kept his mouth shut.
"Quiet!" Dove hissed, moving to the door to the side room. "I think-"
"What's he saying-" Dove loomed over.
"I can't hear-" Russel hurried over.
Arc just sat there. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.
Oscar just kept his jaw clenched tight while the other three pushed and shoved each other to hear better.
"Um," Arc said, "There's someone I know. We're Touching Mouths. She's a soother, too, she says. An apprentice."
"That's why you're here Jaune-boy," Sky grunted, "to teach you you can do better than that stupid Nikos girl. She's a scam artist."
"They're all fakes," Russell nodded.
Oscar grit his teeth harder, trying not to snap the chalk in his hands.
The door to the side room burst open in a rush, knocking the three back, and with all of them unbalanced and tripping, with Dove, the largest, falling back and against Oscar, nearly toppling him and his chair back.
Winchester was clearly unhappy, face blotchy red. "This was a waste of time!" he all but shouted. "We're leaving!" Winchester stomped through his friends, not caring who he was stepping on or stumbling over, set on the door and leaving.
There was a lot of noise and hurry with all the teens bustling about and hurrying after their leader, but Arc at least, gave a proper bow. "Um, thank you!"
Oscar scowled darkly at them and very happily got up to shut the door firmly on all of them.
He turned, to see Ozpin looking tiredly at the door. "It seems he wasn't ready to hear his truth."
"Ozpin?"
"Hm?" Ozpin shook his head and focused on Oscar. "Sorry, an unwilling client always makes things a little harder."
"Why are they like that? I mean, I know I thought soothsaying was a scam, but why are they so mean and cruel about it?"
Ozpin sat down in one of the chairs across the desk, putting his leg up on the other. "They are bullies. And if you want to know why someone is a bully, there are a myriad of reasons. If you want to know of them specifically I'd need my reader. But suffice to say that they are in a place where they need to look down on someone. I'm in a profession that has been eroding for several years now. I am also very clearly a Valean, thus an enemy of Mistral in this war, and I am very obviously weak," he said, tapping his cane to his leg. "I simply make an easy target."
"But that's ridiculous!"
Ozpin smiled. "Yes."
Oscar huffed. "You're not weak! You survived back breaker's fever. I may not get the soothsaying, but you work so hard at it! If someone's never been to a soothsayer then they don't get it, but how can someone who's seen you work, still say-"
Ozpin held up a hand and Oscar cut off his tirade. "Oscar, respect for soothsaying has been eroding for the past few years. The older generations, they still remember what a sayer can do, what a sayer's responsibility is. But soothsaying has always had its detractors. People who say we are charlatans and frauds. There is some truth to that, from a certain point of view."
"Really?" Oscar asked dubiously.
Ozpin shrugged. "Soothsaying does require the magic inherent in all things. But a sayer isn't always a powerhouse of magic. Some sayers are not strong in magic. They have enough to use a reader, enough to catch a glimpse, and the rest is pattern recognition. Most soothsaying books are about the patterns and how to interpret them. Someone with no connection to their own magic can study the books and read a pattern. That's why I always give a copy of a client's pattern to them. A sayer who is powerful in magic won't actually need to interpret the patterns, because they'll have seen what they need to see."
"So a few not-strong soothsayers have ruined the entire profession?" Oscar asked flatly.
Ozpin shook his head. "There is another aspect of soothsaying. A sayer must never tell everything they see. Every client I visit, I only give them a partial truth. It is a truth they need to hear, but it is not the whole of it. The hardest part of being a sayer, is knowing what the client needs to hear. Just before the war started, several newssheets started publicizing articles of a sayer's readings and what was 'wrong'. The news sheets were talking about what 'wasn't' in a reading. 'If a soothsayer can see so much, why wasn't this mentioned,' and other such articles. That is a failure to realize what a soothsayer does."
"I don't remember any articles like that."
Ozpin gave a wan smile. "You'd have been nine. I doubt you were reading city news sheets on the farm. More likely you were using them for compost."
Oscar snorted.
Rubbing his face, Ozpin let out a heavy sigh. "Did you know that across the languages, soothsayer is the same word?"
"Uh, what? Soothsayer is the same in Mistralian as it is in Valean?"
"And Atlesean, and Vacuan. However, the word sooth has a different origin in all four languages. In Vacuo sooth means sand. Given that they created the sand reader, it's hardly a surprise. Here in Mistral, what does sooth sound like?"
"Reading," Oscar replied. They did come from the same root, after all.
"Exactly. For Atlesean, sooth comes from their word for future."
"That makes sense. Soothsaying is reading the future."
Ozpin shook his head. "That's the most harmful translation, to my mind. Perhaps it's my own patriotism, but I find Vale's translation to be the most accurate for my profession. In Valean, sooth is a derivative of soothe. To comfort."
"Comfort?"
Ozpin nodded. "When I am doing a reading, I don't just see the future. I am focused on the question I am being asked. I see all that pertains to the question. Sometimes it's a question of the past, sometimes the present. I see that section of the pattern of one's life and how it intertwines with the patterns of others in order to arrive at the answer. I give the truth. I always give the truth, but the truth needed in that moment of time. It's not about seeing the future, as Altas translates. It's about offering comfort to someone."
Oscar squirmed a little, embarrassed by his own misunderstanding of what a soothsayer did. It made sense why the shopkeeper would come weekly, now. He had a different question every week. Soothsaying was more than just a future.
"Given Mistral's close ties with Altas," Ozpin continued, "It's perhaps no surprise that Mistral views sayers as just people who predict the future. Of course, all those articles came out when the war started as well."
Oscar glanced down. "That's why so many call you 'Professor', isn't it."
"Correct. Better to use my title from the university than acknowledge my mastery of a profession that is looked down upon." Ozpin levered himself up. "I'll go get Mr. Winchester's reading. We'd best get back to work. No need to lament how things are. Better to deal with what we can."
Oscar climbed the four flights up to Ozpin's floor and went by the office to go check with the aviary. The woman there had some messages, which Oscar took and headed back to the office. He frowned, looking at the invoices, and found a new aspect of being a clerk. Not just keeping track of invoices and receipts of Ozpin's clients, but also the invoices and receipts needed to just stay open.
In the office, Ozpin was at the desk, copying a reading. With the season turning, there was an actual breeze coming in through the windows, and the professor didn't look so overheated as he had all summer. Oscar smiled. "Hey, Ozpin."
Ozpin levered himself up and came over to hug him. "Hello, Oscar."
Oscar couldn't quite stop the blush and took the seat behind the desk, glancing over the files that were out. "We have invoices," he said, laying them out.
"It is the first of the month, I'm not surprised," Ozpin said, glancing over them. "Rent will be the first priority. Then the paper mill. Oh, we'll need to send in an order for lumber for the stove. With the season's turning, we'll want to be stocked. The same for the candle maker as the days shorten."
Oscar nodded, noting it on his slate for sorting through. "What about-"
"Um… Excuse me?"
Both turned to a woman who knocked politely on the door.
Oscar immediately stood and they both bowed. "Hello and welcome," Oscar said, as Ozpin offered a chair. "How may we help you today?"
The woman was in a modest, well-cared for dress, a black mourning scarf covering her hair. She stepped in nervously, pulling a handkerchief from her jacket pocket. "Hello," she greeted, hands worrying at the handkerchief. "I was told… I understand that…"
"Here," Ozpin said. "Have a seat. Mr. Pine, a cup of tea? Lavender?"
"Yes, Professor." Oscar went to their small stove in the corner, never used in the summer, and lit the fire, letting it build as he pulled out a kettle and teapot, as well as the lavender.
"Thank you," the woman said, sitting down. Ozpin sat beside her as Oscar went back to the desk to start going through the invoices.
"Now," Ozpin said softly. How may we help?"
"Oh, it's silly," the woman demured. "I know I'm the perfect mark for scams and to be taken advantage of. I just..."
"You wish to know something."
She nodded. "It's the war. Everything was fine until the war started. Now… I just don't know." She pulled at her handkerchief again.
Ozpin nodded. "Soothsayers are speakers of truth and comfort. I can do a reading for you, if you wish. If you're uncertain and feel this is a waste, then at least stay for some tea and be on your way, no charge. This has to be about what you feel is best."
The woman nodded, looking around at all the books and readings spread across the desk as Oscar kept working through the invoices and counting out payments.
"I laughed, when the articles came out," the woman said softly. "I remember reading them and laughing at all the poor fools who sought out soothers. My mother scolded me for it. She said I could come here to learn… but…"
"It's alright," Ozpin said. "This is about your choice. Everything in soothsaying, is about your choice. Whether you'll do it or not, what question you have, how you react, what you believe."
"Of course," the woman said. She looked around nervously, before something in her eyes resolved. "I would like a reading, please. I… I need to know."
Ozpin nodded. "Mr. Pine here will write you a receipt and accept payment while I set up the reader."
With Ozpin in the side room, the woman suddenly looked more uncertain as she pulled out a small purse from her jacket and started counting out the lien.
"It will be okay," Oscar said as he wrote out the receipt. "The Professor is very accurate."
"I'm being a fool," the woman admonished herself.
Oscar shook his head. "If you want better accuracy, just focus on the question. Nothing else really matters, does it?"
The woman smiled, and for a brief moment, looked beautiful.
"If you're ready," Ozpin said from the door.
The woman looked resolved again, and went to the side room.
Oscar gave a silent wish that whatever she wanted to know went well, and set aside the rent lien to see what was left for the paper mill and the lumberer. Ozpin dealt directly with anyone he could, always avoiding a middle man. Given how long he'd been in Haven, it appeared he had a lot of direct connections. Seeing how much lien he was counting out, Oscar was rather grateful. It meant that they had money for luxuries like butter with the war going on. He'd heard city people who couldn't afford butter used grease. He didn't want to think about how that kind of cooking worked, back on the farm, they churned their own butter.
He was just thinking of running down the hall to Mr. Lionheart with the rent payment, when the kettle went off and Oscar poured the water into the teapot to let it steep. He then cleared off part of the desk and set the teapot and cups there.
"No!"
Oscar jumped at the shout, nearly knocking over the tea set.
The woman came out sobbing, Ozpin beside her and guiding her to one of the chairs.
"Nooooooooo….."
Oscar looked to Ozpin, but his guardian just shook his head.
Right. Oscar poured out the tea and added a lump of sugar. The woman took the cup more on reflex and manners, her mind clearly elsewhere as she continued to moan and sob.
Ozpin turned the other chair more fully and dropped into it, setting his cane aside.
"It's alright," he said softly. "It will be okay."
"No it won't," she sobbed as Oscar took his seat and wondered if he should move to the side room.
Ozpin leaned over and gently patted her forearm. "What has occurred is awful. Horrifying, even, and terrible. There is no way to state that gently. But now you know. There is no more doubt. No more worry. You have certainty."
"How," the woman gasped. "We were Touching Mouths! How is that any better?"
"Because now you know exactly where you stand," Ozpin said in his most gentle tone. "Now that you know where you are, you can choose your direction. Move to where you want to be."
"He's dead," the woman hissed. "I don't want to be anywhere."
"That's just today," Oscar said on impulse. "That was me when my aunt died. Grief and mourning, that's a natural part of things. I still miss her every day. I still miss the farm. Grief doesn't end, but mourning eventually does."
The woman somehow was able to sip her tea. "I wore the mourning scarf because I hadn't heard in over a year. Everyone thought… But I was hoping…"
Ozpin sipped his own tea, looking worn down. "We all do. My parents were traveling. Eventually, we got word that they had gotten ill and passed. Like you, we couldn't be there with them. But now you know that his final thoughts were about you."
"I'm not sure that helps…"
"In time, it will."
The woman gave a short, watery laugh. "Did you see that in the sands?"
"No," Ozpin offered softly. "Merely my own experience."
She broke down sobbing again.
Oscar eventually refilled the teapot as they talked to and comforted the woman, letting her speak and cry as she needed. Ozpin disappeared long enough to copy down the pattern from the sand reader and offer it to her, as well as giving one to Oscar for their files.
Finally, the woman gave a watery smile. "Thank you," she said softly. "I don't… You are correct. Now I know where I stand."
Ozpin nodded. "It doesn't bring joy, or hope, but it does bring comfort."
"It does." She stood, giving a bow. "Thank you."
"You are always welcome," Ozpin said. "Should you wish to return, my door will be open."
"I don't think I will," she said softly. "Not right now." She shook her head. "Not ever, I think."
"Then take the time you need to find the path you want."
With their goodbyes done, Ozpin sat heavily in the chair.
"Are you okay?"
Ozpin nodded, though he kept his eyes closed, looking very tired. "Sadly, those types of readings are becoming more common as this war progresses. Family shipped off to fight, but no knowledge other than communication stops. In Vale, we at least used to send someone to inform the families."
"That was before the war," Oscar said softly.
"Hm. True. I've no idea how things are done there now."
Oscar set the teapot and the cups aside. He'd wash them out later.
"I see what you mean," he said quietly.
"Oh?" Ozpin looked over, pale.
"You said that in Valean, sooth meant to comfort someone. I can see that."
The professor gave a wan smile. "Walk-ins are usually either children seeking to prove a scam, or like that woman. Desperate. In Vale, I never took walk-ins. I was too busy with regular clients, or teaching. I've a new respect for the average village sayer and what they would have to do."
"Will she be okay?"
"Yes. The sands showed that she will marry and have a family. She wasn't ready to hear that."
Oscar nodded, but he didn't understand. Wouldn't she have wanted to know that? To know that she would be happy? A small bit of hope? Or was that not part of the question she asked. Why wasn't that part said?
Ozpin pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. With a sigh, he stood. "I have a few minutes till the next appointment. I'll go clear the reader."
Fourteen. He was fourteen now, and no apprenticeship. Oscar felt his chest tighten, anxiety burning between his ears as he entered the professor's office and dropped his books behind the front desk, sitting and seeing what Ozpin had left him to do. He worried his hands, knowing that getting an apprenticeship would be harder now, more expensive. He would have to be interviewed more thoroughly, people would want to know why he was so late in getting an apprenticeship, and he still didn't know what he wanted to be. He had taken to reading the adverts in the papers, but none of the professions appealed to him: accounting, file work, dozens and dozens of clerks, money changers, store workers. At the edge of the city it was corral work, guard duties, patrol sweeps of the slums. And on the front page, every day, another loss in the war, another town lost, another speculation of the next shortage.
Oscar shook his head. He'd be ready when he was ready. He had to keep telling himself that.
Sighing, he sat at the desk and quickly flipped through the small pile of papers. Ozpin had obviously handled most of the invoices and receipts, leaving only the readings to copy for home. Oscar got out ink and checked his brush before pulling out the chalk first - some of the sweeping lines and curves he couldn't do naturally yet, and he liked tracing out the pattern first.
Three patterns, each one intricate and just beautiful to look at. Oscar marveled that the sand reader could do this just by placing two hands on the fulcrum, he wondered if it was the magic that moved the pendulum. He wondered how a table needed recharging, and he wondered about soothsaying in general.
He had gotten to the point where he could recognize some of the smaller pictures in the pattern - he had no idea what they meant, and he wondered if it was appropriate to ask the professor. He doodled the one he saw the most on these three patterns as a test on the figures slate and moved over to the ledgers once he was done. Two clients came in, the old shopkeeper down the street for his weekly reading, and a mother with four children that Oscar had to watch while the reading took place. It was like he was back at the orphanage, and he smiled at the little kids as they played with twine on the floor.
After that Ozpin came out, his limp a little more pronounced than normal.
"You've been sitting all day," Oscar guessed.
"Guilty as charged," he answered with a smile. "It will get better on the walk home. Fall is one of the busiest seasons, everyone wants to know about the harvest." His face darkened. "... I didn't have good news to give."
Oscar looked up. "Will it be a bad crop this year?"
"No, one of the biggest in the last four years," he said. "That won't be the problem. Let me go down the hall for a bit, as you said, I've been sitting for hours."
Meaning he wanted to use the toilet at the end of the hall. The walk would do him good, and Oscar nodded as he worked on the ledgers. His number sense had grown a lot in the last few months, and the forms of the invoices and receipts didn't make him nervous anymore. It wasn't fun work, but it wasn't hard work, and Oscar wondered if he would be doomed to be a clerk for the rest of his life. He sighed as he did the summations in his head and then double checked them on the slate. He listened to Mr. Lionheart, down the hall, wave one of his tenants off cheerily and then stop Ozpin for some conversation. Friendly guy right up until you brought up the war, then he was all nerves.
He'd just finished up the ledgers when Ozpin came back, glancing at the chalkboard to see what the next appointment was.
"We have a little over an hour," he said, sitting in one of the upholstered chairs. "And for once I don't have anything pressing to do. How was school?"
Oscar looked down. "Fine, I guess," he said. "The work is a lot easier now; I'm getting almost all of it done before I come here."
"That's good," Ozpin said, smiling. "That means you're almost ready. Though, I suspect that isn't good news for you."
Oscar shook his head. "No," he admitted. "I've looked at every job, every advert, every option for apprenticeship in the city - I mean the borough," he said. "I've done almost all the basic training at school, I know the basics of all of those professions, but…"
"They don't appeal to you."
"... No," Oscar said. "I liked my farm work well enough, but I knew I didn't want to be a farmer when I got older. After I lost Auntie Em, I thought coming here meant opportunity if I could get adopted. But now…" He looked up. "I know not everyone gets a job that they enjoy. I understand I shouldn't expect to be happy in my profession, that I have to go where the work is. But still… I don't know…"
Ozpin nodded, leaning back and fingering his cane. "There are options outside of apprenticeships," he said softly. "You could go to university, study even more. I know you like reading, so there's also library work, academia. I'm not sure it's something you would enjoy though, you are hands-on enough that the abstraction of scholarly work might not be to your liking. Moreover, it's expensive to go to university. I have some old friends there who can do some favors, but it might not be enough for us to afford it, and I'd rather not risk it if you aren't absolutely sure that's what you want."
"I feel like I'm out of time," Oscar said, leaning against the desk. "Like I have to pick something, anything, before the military grabs me."
Ozpin shook his head. "I would sooner hide you in the apartment than send you off to war," he said. "War is little more than tragedy, blood, loss, and trauma."
Oscar winced at the weight of his guardian's voice, sensing… something. "Let's talk about something else," he said, pulling out his earlier doodle. "I keep seeing this in the readings. What does it mean?"
Ozpin leaned forward, taking the slate, his eyes traced over the pattern and he thought for a moment. "There are several interpretations," he said, "for the sayers who don't have a lot of magic in them - mostly that is because they don't always recognize that it isn't a specific word, but the indication of a phrase."
"I don't understand."
Ozpin looked up and smiled. "Of course," he said, shaking his head. "My apologies, I'm talking like you're my apprentice."
… and wouldn't that be nice, Oscar mused…
"What I mean is that this specific design comes where there is some word or phrase, perhaps an entire sentence, that gives the person an important choice to make, a choice that will affect major events in their lives. A sayer is forbidden from uttering these words, because we are not allowed to affect the choice of someone, we are not soothmakers but soothsayers. The cost of 'making' is too great."
Oscar felt suddenly strange, hearing the word soothmaker for the first time; there was an off, humming sensation, bubbling up from deep inside him, like he was looking at the sand table but… he had felt this way before, when his aunt was sick and he was looking through a window to say his goodbyes and… and… Ozpin was saying something, maybe? It was blurry, and there was a woman and…
"Look at how you've diminished. How you've lessened yourself."
"Oscar?"
He gasped, jolting to his feet, chair clattering behind him, but he stood up too fast and his vision blacked out, making him sway. His hands flapped for the desk, pitching forward before he could catch himself, and he sucked in another breath, exhaling in a hot mess of air. "She pushed him," he said, seeing the picture so clearly but so blurry at the same time. "She pushed him, and he fell, and then…"
"Oscar!"
He looked up, blood humming with energy, and Ozpin was standing, one hand on the desk and the other on his shoulder, face tense. Seeing him made Oscar sag in relief, Ozpin following suit. "I don't… I… Ozpin, what was that?"
His guardian gestured, Oscar straightening and fixing his desk chair to sit. The humming was starting to fade, and he was left virtually shaking, like he had been in the fields from dawn to dusk. Ozpin moved over to the stove, pouring tea immediately and placing a cup in front of Oscar. Lavender and vanilla, the scents washed over him and calmed him down. Oscar realized belatedly he had a nosebleed.
"What did you see?" Ozpin asked.
"I don't… I'm not sure," he said, listening to the cup clatter in his hands. "There was a woman. She was saying something, and she pushed a man… he fell, and it was so very bad. I don't know…"
Ozpin nodded, fist wrapped around his cane. "Has that ever happened before?" he asked.
"I think… sort of?" Oscar said, finally getting a sip. The hot liquid seared his mouth but it felt good going down, the nosebleed and stopped and his body started to relax and he was so tired. "When Auntie Em was sick, the doctor wouldn't let me in to see her; I had to talk to her from outside the window. That last night… We were saying our goodbyes. I kept hearing a voice, 'more than any man, woman, or child on this planet.' There was all this pressure and I didn't want to hear it, because I had to be there when my aunt…" His eyes watered. "You said that, the night we first met and…" He shook his head, unable to explain.
Ozpin was not lost, however, nodded, looked through Oscar like he could see everything. "And before that?"
He shook his head again.
Silence grew between them, Ozpin looking so far away, calculating, measuring, his brown eyes contemplating all of Remnant it looked like, before they closed and he took a long, slow breath through his nose. Exhaling was a heavy sound, and his eyes finally settled on Oscar. "Here," he said, reaching out. "Take my hand."
"... I don't understand."
"Please."
Oscar did as he was told, reaching out. Ozpin maneuvered slightly, making not a handshake but pressing their palms together, fingers fanning out over each other's wrist. "Tell me when it feels warm, and where," he said. "Take your time, there's no rush."
Oscar frowned, surprised at the request, and still a little confused on what was even happening. He looked down at their hands, Ozpin's always so pale and his looking so dark, the callouses and nicks and scars of farm work compared to long elegant fingers and carefully maintained nails. Ozpin's hands were always slightly warm, so he wasn't sure what he was expected to - "Oh," he said, a little surprised to feel a soft heat. He started to pull his hand away but Ozpin made a noise.
"Not yet. You can feel it, good. Now where is it coming from? The entire hand?"
Oscar frowned. "No."
"Then where?"
"The fingertips," he said. "And also… it's like there's small lines in the palm, like..."
"Brothers of Light and Dark," Ozpin said, pulling away and leaning back. A hand reached up and ran through his white hair, the strands feathering out before falling back. "I never thought in all my years… It's so rare… My master said…"
"What?" Oscar said, not sure whether to be anxious, afraid, or excited.
Ozpin looked at Oscar. "Hands," he said, lifting his, "are very important to a soothsayer. The magic inside us can be pulled from anywhere, but most often we channel it through our hands. It's not uncommon for clients to say that our hands feel warm, but only someone with a true gift can sense where the magic is actually developing. Oscar." He straightened in his chair, Oscar unconsciously doing the same. "Oscar, when my master found me, he said that the well of magic in me was greater than anything he had ever seen before. A sayer's ability is tied directly to their magical potential, the more magic the higher accuracy and more detail. In all my years at university, all the apprentices and students I taught, I have never met someone with the same magical ability as me.
"Until now."
The dots connected at an alarmingly slow rate for Oscar. The enormity of it made it too difficult to contemplate, too big to understand. He sat there, shaking at the desk, as he worked his way around what Ozpin had just said.
"I…" he started, licked his lips and tried again. "I have magic?"
"We all have magic," Ozpin said. "I'm saying you have as much magic as me."
Oscar hummed, suddenly dizzy and sick at the same time.
"Oscar, Oscar, this is a lot to take in, stay with me."
He tried, his body was humming again, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel, it was all so much and so big and what did any of this actually mean…? "Is… is that going to happen again?" he asked, feeling tongue-tied. "Will everything just… just stop and hum and blur and…" That hadn't felt good at all!
"Without training, yes," Ozpin said, nodding gravely. "Visions will strike you at random and without context or meaning, just like when my master found me, and just like his master found him."
"But-!"
Ozpin held up a hand, his voice was tense but confident, reassuring, and Oscar clung to it as he tried to wrap his head around what was about to be said.
"There is a pact amongst all soothsayers," he said. "If we ever come across a child with the talent, we apprentice them immediately. The talent is too rare not to, and left untrained someone with that much magic will either twist into a maker or be institutionalized as craven because people don't understand what's happening. You, Oscar, have found your new apprenticeship."
Author's Notes: And thus ends Arc One of the fic. Oscar and Ozpin have gotten to know each other, and now Oscar can train.
We were able to sneak in a Jaune cameo, but we won't see him again until waaaaaaaaaaay later. He references Pyrrha, who will also show up later. We also got the shopkeep as a regular to fill out Ozpin's clientele, though we don't feel great about having a generic nameless widow OC for a client to prove a point about soothsaying. Couldn't find an appropriate character to use that we didn't already have plans on.
We also get some limited access on what soothsaying looks like and a lot of nerdy details that make the two of us happy. Maybe it's the Virgo's in us but we love the idea of files and folders and organizing bills etc.
Next chapter: Oscar struggles to come to terms with what he's just learned. Qrow tries to be a friend. Maria gets a nea tenant.