Chapter Eight
After Midwinter, Ozpin was surprised that Qrow seemed to make an effort to come down in the morning and head out with them. Granted, it was clear that hangovers were still a problem, but Ozpin had to admit it was rather nice of the man to come down and walk out with them.
"You're going out the back?"
"Fewer steps," Oscar replied, glaring at the ice. "Hang on, I'll go get a shovel."
Ozpin sighed, but was grateful for Oscar to scrape off the ice. Three careful steps down cleared steps and all three headed around the building to the street.
"Have a good day," Ozpin smiled.
"Same for you two," Qrow replied, a longing look in his eye.
Also since Midwinter, like most apprentices, Oscar had withdrawn from school to focus on his chosen profession. The mornings were usually the busiest, as people came before work, usually to learn how loved ones were doing on the front lines. Everyone wanted to know when the war would end and people would just come home.
Ozpin usually sighed. "Soothsaying is for individuals. To try and say a war or a country is the realm of the Brothers. No one can read a pattern so large."
To Oscar, he gave a more in-depth explanation. "Soothsaying isn't really reading a future and to say it does is a misnomer. People fundamentally don't change. The core of who they are remains the same unless something drastic comes. Yes, experience and time alter how one views things, but not drastically. Such paradigm shifts occur most commonly from trauma or an upending of fundamental beliefs. A sayer can read someone and have a basic idea of the choices one makes."
"Oh, is that why we're doing so many self-reflection readings for me?"
"Yes. To be able to know and understand others, one must know and understand oneself. A war is a massive paradigm shift for people. They go from feeling safe and knowing what will happen to being in danger and knowing nothing. We can't read that far into the future because such a paradigm shift is ongoing with the war. For thousands, millions, of people across Vale and Mistral. It also affects Vacuo and Atlas. That's far, far more than just one person. That's nothing that a soothsayer, no matter how powerful, can read."
With the mornings so busy, the afternoons had Ozpin often going over the patterns with Oscar. His son wasn't ready to observe a reading yet, there were still subtleties of the patterns he wasn't quite grasping, but he was making remarkable progress and quickly because of the depth of his magic.
Honestly, Ozpin couldn't be prouder. The majority of Oscar's apprenticeship would probably be the same as Ozpin's was. Learning what to say and what to hold back.
"See this pattern here," Ozpin was saying, pointing to a larger sweep. "That's part of what you're focusing on, but look here." He traced out a larger part of the pattern.
"Woah, wait, that piece is a part of two meanings?" Oscar looked up wide-eyed.
"It would be more accurate to say it is another layer to the reading. It's why the readings we practice focus on such small, simple questions. You're not quite seeing larger pictures yet unless it's obvious."
Oscar still gaped and Ozpin just felt pride bursting. "Now, look at this part of-"
The door opened and Ozpin stood up straighter from where he'd been leaning over Oscar's shoulder. His son was already standing and greeting, but Ozpin narrowed his eyes.
"Ah, Operative Schnee," he said, giving a bow. Standing tall, Winter Schnee had her hair slicked back in the Atlesean style, wrapped in a bun and gaze flat. Beside her was clearly a sibling, coloring just as pale as Winter's namesake, though her hair was pulled off to the side in a braid.
Beside him Oscar looked confused.
"Master Ozma," she said, her voice flat and stiff. "It's good to see you."
"You can tell James that my answer remains the same. No matter how many operatives he sends."
"I am not here for you," Winter said cooly. "You are known to be the most powerful soothsayer of our generation."
Not for much longer, Ozpin thought, avoiding a glance at Oscar.
"As such, who better to seek guidance from." Winter tilted her head the barest of fractions and Ozpin got the distinct impression that the Atlesean was looking down her nose at him, despite his being so tall. He held back a sad sigh.
"I see."
"My sister has a question for you."
"Oh, uh," Oscar immediately got to work. "Um, as a walk-in, you will be paying up front, no refund. The price-"
"That won't be a problem," Winter said, stepping forward and pulling lien out of her waistcoat.
Ozpin frowned. He didn't need his reader to know that Schnee was here to get her own assessment of him. He doubted that Schnee's sibling had that important a question to seek out himself, but was instead being used to test his abilities.
"Will you be introducing us, Master Ozma?" Winter asked, looking to Oscar.
Lips thinning, Ozpin put a hand on his son's shoulder. "Operative Winter Schnee, this is my apprentice, Oscar Pine."
"Ah, it's a pleasure to meet you?"
Winter gave the briefest of smiles in victory, and gestured to her sister. "This is my sister, Weiss Schnee." But she was staring at Oscar again.
Right, Ozpin wasn't going to let his son be alone with a military type.
"Mr. Pine," Ozpin said softly, catching his son's eyes, "today you will observe me do a reading."
Oscar's eyes lit up in excitement.
"You are to watch and say nothing." He turned to Schnee. "Assuming, you are comfortable with my apprentice learning his craft?"
Schnee narrowed her eyes as the proper manners of society and apprenticeships forced her tongue. "Of course," she said stiffly.
Oscar started to lock up the files, as he always did if they were to be in the side room so that a client coming in couldn't go rifling through things.
"Very well. Miss Schnee?"
The sibling, who had been quiet up to this point, only nodded.
In the side room, Ozpin took his normal seat, glad to be off his feet for the moment, and pointed for Oscar to stay behind him.
"Not a word, Mr. Pine."
"Of course, Professor," Oscar said, eagerly looking to the table.
Ozpin held back a sigh. This was too early. Oscar wasn't ready for this yet, but he was loath to leave him in the main office where Schnee could say anything that seemed reasonable, and extract a promise from societal politeness. No, Oscar still had a great deal to learn about people first.
"Place your hand on the fulcrum, Miss Schnee," he said gently. No matter his feelings on James or Schnee, this young woman deserved his best.
She reached forward, placing her hand on her side. "It's stiff," she commented.
Oscar took a breath to start an excited explanation, since he had already learned this, but Ozpin held up a hand, reminding Oscar that he wasn't to say anything.
"... ah, sorry," Oscar mumbled.
Ozpin turned and offered a smile. One could never doubt Oscar's enthusiasm.
"The fulcrum is merely for connection," Ozpin said. "It joins us to the sands, it joins us to each other, it joins us to the magic, it joins us to your question, and it joins us to your answer." He gave a mischievous smile. "That's a lot of weight to carry."
"... I see."
"If you wish," Ozpin continued, offering a hand, "you may hold my hand as well. It helps with accuracy and is more in line with Atleasan tradition."
She hesitated briefly, but reached out and took his hand. Slowly, Ozpin started to release his magic.
"What is your question?"
"I…" The woman frowned, struggling. "I'm applying to universities, and… I…" the sibling shook her head before putting on a smile. "I would like to know the best university to attend," she said confidently. "I want to be the best and I need to know where that is."
Ozpin gave a soft chuckle. "If we weren't doing a reading, I'd immediately recommend the universities I've worked at. Still, let's see what the sands say."
The young woman nodded, looking down to the basin. Ozpin took a moment to focus on her question. As stated, it was a simple question. What university? But that wasn't really what she wanted to know. This young woman had already finished her apprenticeship and was seeking further education instead of starting her work. She wanted to be the best, but that was very vague. Best of her profession? Best in societal standing? Best of her agemates? Had Oscar attempted this reading at his current level, he'd just get the name of the university. Being a soothsayer was just as much about what wasn't said. Often it was mostly about what wasn't said.
The pendulum on the plumb line twitched and slowly started to move as Ozpin focused. How would this young woman be the best? How would she be her best self? Ultimately that's what people wanted, to be the best version of themselves. The missteps were when people forgot that self-reflection and self-improvement were how one got to be one's best. The pendulum kept moving across the sands, swishing and swirling as the pattern started to emerge.
This young woman needed advisors. People to make her see beyond what she had been raised to see and value, see outside of wealth and privilege. She would need to see adversity, strife, see all aspects of life and what it took to pick up and move on. What it took to pick up and escape. For this young woman… Weiss needed to escape from the gilded cage she inhabited. She needed a paradigm shift, and she was going to get one soon. It would not be easy. Arguments, danger, the war… The shadow of battle was cast over her, interacting with the paradigm shift she was about to endure making the longer future difficult.
But Weiss could be a better person. And she would be.
"You seek to be the best," Ozpin said, looking from the reader that was still drawing to young Weiss's eyes. "You don't know what the best is, but you wish for it. To be your best is not to be found in classes or universities. For you it will be found in people who teach and guide you without realizing it. Watch for the rose, as that will be your turning point. If you choose to befriend them, from there you will meet a mighty dragon sheltering a black cat. Where the rose will open your eyes, the dragon will defend you as you continue to study and improve. If you follow that path it is the cat that will give you the most support, as the cat has lived the same life as you, though none would see it at first glance. These teachers will let you become a teacher of your own if you so choose. You will teach the white meadow without realizing it, if the supplanter is removed. You will heal the willow tree, if you take this path. Just not in the way you've planned."
Ozpin stopped there. There was more. The lessons would be painful, there would be separation before lessons were completely learned, and just how monumentally difficult all of it was. That family needed so much help.
Weiss was wide-eyed, staring at him, and pale.
"I can… help the willow tree?"
Ozpin let go of the reader, pulling out paper to copy the pattern. "If you listen to the lessons unknowingly taught to you. If you truly want to be your best self."
"But-how do I meet them?"
Finishing the copy of the pattern, he handed it across to her. "You asked what university to go to. Before the reading, as I said, I'd have recommended where I've taught before. Having seen this, I would recommend Sanctum Academy in the Wind Path borough above us. It has challenging classes, but is a public Academy, giving you experience outside of what you're comfortable with. Moreover, it has the added benefit of upsetting your father."
"I… This is a lot to take in," Wiess said. "And… was it my imagination or were both of your eyes… glowing?"
Ozpin shrugged. "Who can say?" He turned to Oscar as he stood. "Mr. Pine, please make a copy of the pattern."
He wouldn't let Schnee have any access to his son.
At the side door, Weiss hesitated before opening it. "Rose, Dragon, and Black Cat," she muttered. "Rose, Dragon, and Black Cat…"
"It is your choice, Miss Schnee," he said softly. "It is your choice where you go, it is your choice if you learn what is unknowingly taught to you, it is your choice to reach out, it is your choice to reflect. It is your choice how to be the best."
"My choice."
Standing at the door, Weiss put on a smile and stepped out.
Schnee gave a genuine smile to see her sister, one of the very few Ozpin had ever seen.
"Miss Schnee, my door is always open."
"Of course, Professor Ozma," Weiss replied with a proper bow.
Ozpin turned to Schnee. "And my answer still remains the same."
"Of course, Master Ozma."
Ozpin walked them to his door and wished them a good day, and knew that Schnee would likely be grilling her sister on the reading. He sighed.
Oscar was still copying the pattern, inexperience making him much slower as he carefully sketched each line, trying to copy the exact width, curve, and swirl.
Ozpin sat in Weiss's empty seat and pushed aside the war. Teaching, right now, would be a relief.
"I believe that was the first time you saw me give a reading," he said with a lightness he wasn't really feeling. "Tell me what you thought."
Looking up, Oscar's face was puzzled. "Ozpin, there's so much that you didn't say. I think you only gave, what, one part in six of what's in the sand." He gestured to the complicated, beautiful pattern. "Like, this part here, I'm pretty sure that's the pattern for separation. And here, there's going to be an… attack? Assault? Something on her family home. You only mentioned this part about the white meadow." Oscar looked up. "And which part of this pattern is teaching? I thought I knew that already."
"That is teaching as a profession, which is the pattern you know," Ozpin explained, happily falling back into teaching and ignoring what Schnee's visit might mean. "Look here, see this twist. That's about learning lessons and giving lessons. Not in the way of the profession, but as a part of life. It's a difficult pattern to see because it's usually a layer, as it is here. See, the patterns for her teachers - the rose, the dragon, the cat - they also make up the lessons pattern. All of those patterns come together to a larger layer: The teaching of the white meadow and the willow tree."
"Okay, I get the layering thing… sort of…"
Ozpin chuckled.
"But, there are still so many patterns here that you didn't discuss." Oscar pointed to another part. "Isn't this about strife? Or drugs? Er, which pattern is this again?"
"Alcohol," Ozpin replied. "Or rather, addiction. See it's connection to the willow tree? Miss Schnee already knows this. There was no need to mention it. Besides, as I've said before, I tell my clients what they need to hear. She didn't need to know all of it. She needed to know what would put her on the right path."
Oscar frowned, thinking hard. "But… Shouldn't she know? About all these hard parts? I can't read all of this, but, it's not going to be easy for her." His son looked up. "And how does any of this relate to what university she wanted to go to?"
"Ah, that's the deepest layer of being a soothsayer and where most apprenticeships spend the most time." Ozpin took out a sheet of paper to copy down the pattern for their own records. "What a person asks isn't always what they're asking," Ozpin explained.
"That makes no sense."
"Did Miss Schnee really look like she just wanted to know what university to go to?"
"Ah, um…"
Ozpin finished and sat back again. "She was brought here by her sister because Operative Schnee wanted to gauge my abilities. She was told to ask a question and it was clear she hadn't really thought about it. What university to go to? You've been here for half a year, you know that people who come to a soothsayer don't ask such questions."
Oscar frowned, crossing his arms in thought. "Yeah, I did think that was kind of an easy question. One that I could probably do."
"And you would do it with ease," Ozpin said proudly. "But her question was about her being the best. The best what?"
"Oh… she wasn't specific enough."
Ozpin nodded. "I've mentioned that to be a soothsayer, one needs to know oneself in order to know what the clients want. Miss Schnee didn't know what she wanted. She just wants something to change in her life. She wasn't asking where to go to university. She was asking where to go for change. To defy her father, spread her own wings, not be tied to the family that is so stifling. She is about to have a paradigm shift. The things I've told her will guide her through that."
"But you didn't tell her everything."
"And that is the hardest part of soothsaying. Knowing what to say, and what to not say."
"I don't understand."
Ozpin nodded, remembering his own questions under his own apprenticeship. "I once asked my master the same thing. 'Isn't it better to know the details to better prepare?' I will tell you what he told me. A drunk won't stop being a drunk until the drunk values themselves."
Clearing the table, Oscar looked up. "How does that connect?"
"Hmm. With the war, you've seen more drunks on the streets, haven't you?"
"And officers and military."
"True, but the drunks. Do you think if you walk up to a drunk, tell them they are drunk and need to stop, that they will do so?"
"No. Even with Mr. Branwen, he's getting better, but he wouldn't listen when we first met."
"Exactly. People have to be willing to hear. A drunk is so buried in hurt and pain and a repeating self-fulfilling prophecy of drunkenness that they can't believe that anything can actually change. You can't make anyone change. You can point things out, but the person has to want to. Once a drunk decides to change, any advice you offer will be heard and listened to. Tell me, if Miss Schnee knew she was about to face a great deal of adversity, would she still walk the same path?"
"Uh, yes?"
"If the future was already written, then yes. But the future is not written." Ozpin stood once Oscar finished clearing the table and the two went back to the main office. "People at their core don't change. Life and experience alters what they'll do, but a generally happy person will keep being a happy person unless they face a paradigm shift. A person who is self-destructive will keep being so until a paradigm shift. When looking ahead, that makes seeing future decisions easier. Since the future is all about choice, a soothsayer advises."
"So, what, if she knew she was about to face a bunch of trials, she'd… avoid it?"
"Most people would. Or prepare in a way that would make things worse." Ozpin leveled a heavy stare. "We would be influencing her decisions. Then we wouldn't be sayers. We'd be makers. And soothmakers are cursed. It's the hardest part of soothsaying, knowing what to say and what to not say. We don't make decisions for people. We can only advise."
Oscar pulled the kettle from their small stove in the corner and poured the water into the teapot, pulling out leaves and setting it aside to steep. "I'm not sure I get it. We can see all that, but we don't say any of it?"
"No," Ozpin replied. "We are sayers, not makers. We need to see that much to know how to advise. How to guide. All Miss Schnee's choices will still be her own. She knows she's at a crossroads and it's up to her to see the lessons and learn or not."
"But you told her to look for those people," Oscar said. "Isn't that making?"
Ozpin shook his head. "I told her there would be people who could change her. If she listened she could inspire change in others. If she followed that path, she could help the willow, just not as she wishes. Everything I said was an 'if'. Whenever you're dealing with futures, you must emphasize the if. Many sayers who have less magic focus on the past and present, as those are easier."
Oscar pulled out the teacups and poured, still mulling it over.
Ozpin let out a heavy sigh from his seat. "I'll admit, you aren't ready to have observed a reading like that. Maybe another two months at the speed with which you are learning."
"Er, what?" Oscar looked up, surprised. "Then… why have me in there?"
Rubbing his face, Ozpin leaned back, tired. "Because Operative Schnee works for the general, and I won't have you drafted into trying to soothsay the war. That's impossible. As I keep telling him."
"A general?" Oscar asked, eyes wide. "The military is trying to get you to read a war?"
"General Ironwood is part of the Atlesean Generals of the Round Table, and General Ironwood has been very interested in the war."
"But Atlas isn't part of the war! It's just Vale and Mistral!"
"And now Vale is winning. Vale has a port here in Mistral and will be building all winter." Ozpin looked down to his tea. "Any student of history can predict that when the spring campaign begins, it will be very different. Altas has been an ally for Mistral for thirty years now. James wants to see if Atlas needs to join the war and how to win." He looked up and caught Oscar's eye. "You saw that pattern. That's the pattern for one person. Tell me, how would you try to do a reading for a country?"
Oscar's jaw dropped, his pallor going pale. "There's… there's no way."
Ozpin nodded. "You can't put a country on the other side of the sand table. Nor can you put a war there. It isn't just one person's choices that lead a country, but all the citizens. No one, no matter how powerful their magic, can read that. That's the realm of the Brothers."
"And that lady…"
"She was certainly here for me, but now she knows I have an apprentice." Ozpin sighed, sinking into his chair. "There is still so much you need to learn. About life, people, and yes, soothsaying. I won't have the military snatch you up. You're too important to me."
"Ozpin…"
He would never let his son face that sort of pain.
Oscar waited at the street as Ozpin kept chatting with Qrow. Qrow had again come down to walk with them out, and Oscar wondered how Ozpin could not see how bad Qrow had it. Was it because of the language? Did flirting sound different in Valean? Or did no one ever flirt with Ozpin…?
With a last smile, Ozpin joined Oscar so that they could head to the office, giving one last wave.
"You know he's interested, right?" Oscar asked.
His guardian nodded. "Qrow is an interesting man. He has survived a great deal of hardship and is finally improving."
"I mean he's interested in you."
Ozpin shrugged. "Many people find soothsaying interesting, or at least they used to."
Oscar let out a groan. "No. Is this a language thing? How direct do I need to be, you've been here for twenty years right, do I have to spell it out?"
"I'm afraid I'm not following you."
"Mr. Branwen. He is interested in you. Romantically. He's trying to romance you."
Watching closely, he saw the exact moment when Ozpin seemed to understand and his face colored brightly. "Ah… Oh."
"Come on, Mr. Branwen hasn't been even close to subtle."
Ozpin was quiet for a while as he limped down the street, heavy winter coat open with the slowly warming spring weather.
Oscar kept talking. "He's just so forward. He's asked to sleep with you. Almost every other sentence he says to you is innuendo. Even after learning that it's flying over your head at Midwinter, he's still flirting with you. Constantly. How could you not see…"
"Please… Oscar… Stop…" Ozpin said faintly, face redder than before. Then he muttered something in Valean and Oscar could only pick out the word's "self" and "fool".
"Ozpin?"
His guardian gave a wan smile. "Valean traditions are very different, it seems," he said, putting on his professor voice. "It starts with a courting poem. Or at least, it did with the chieftains, which is where I first learned how romancing worked…" He said something in Valean again. "The courting poems I received were from people who wished to be close to my master. None of them were truly interested in… me." He sighed, looking at his leg. "I'm not… a desirable person." He muttered something else in Valean.
"Hey, you there!"
Oscar and Ozpin stiffened, and Ozpin immediately pushed Oscar behind him. From the storefront they were passing, a military officer came over in swift, powerful strides.
"You're Valean?"
Oscar looked up and up to the man, wondering what the issue was and then remembering. War.
Ozpin merely smiled, leaning heavily on his cane and limping in a more exaggerated fashion than he usually did. "Oh, hello, officer. Yes, I was born in Vale."
The officer's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?"
"I am going to work, sir, as anyone on this street knows as I walk it every day."
"When did you come to Haven?"
"Some twenty years ago, when Vale was destabilizing. I sought refuge here."
The office snorted. "A refugee?"
"I've never been called such, but I suppose I am from a certain point of view."
"Papers."
"Of course," Ozpin said, very slowly reaching into his coat and pulling out his identification.
"Professor..." Oscar said softly.
"It's all right, Mr. Pine," he said with a warm smile to Oscar. "In these uncertain times, the military must ensure our safety."
The officer studied the identification for a long while, and Oscar got the distinct impression the man couldn't read, or couldn't read well. Finally there was a gruff grunt and Ozpin's papers were returned.
"Go about your business," the officer said, pushing Ozpin along. He would have fallen if Oscar wasn't fast on his own feet, grabbing Ozpin along the waist to steady him.
"That wasn't fair," Oscar hissed.
"It will sadly become more common," Ozpin replied, rebalancing himself. "If Vale pushes further into Mistral… Well, I am very obviously Valean."
Oscar shook his head. "White hair is an Atlas trait, right? Why not claim to be Atlesean?"
"White hair is Atlesean. Silver hair is not. Besides, my eyes are too narrow."
"But you speak Mistralan without an accent! You've been here for decades!"
"Oh, I never said it would be right. But it will be inevitable," Ozpin said sadly. "During a war, the enemy is a demon."
"But you're not our enemy!"
"Hm, I wouldn't exactly say I support the war, either. And in times like this, patriotism is heightened and any who question are deemed traitors." Ozpin gave a quick hug. "As long as I'm polite, as long as I do what they ask, I should be fine. We've a long time before anything could get that bad. A little suspicion is better than deportation."
"Can you not go back to Vale?"
Ozpin stared ahead as they walked. "Honestly, I would love to return to Vale. It is my home. I wish I could show you the forests, show you a proper winter with sledding and snowballs and snow sculptures. Fields of flowers untouched by people in hidden glens. But no. I can't go back. Not now."
Oscar frowned. "Why?"
"I…" Ozpin's lips thinned as he grimaced. "I have difficulty talking about it. Another time, please."
Oscar could only nod.
Once in the office, Oscar lit the stove while Ozpin unlocked files. For the past month, Oscar had been joining Ozpin in the readings like he had with the Schnees. Observing, but never commenting until later. Oscar kept his slate with him for any questions he had, as there were usually many. Now that he had a better sense of the table and the patterns, it was amazing how much he could see, but it was always so strange how much Ozpin just didn't say. Ozpin had explained it several times, but… why shouldn't the people know all the parts? Wouldn't that make it a more informed decision? But that was apparently making instead of saying.
The morning had the usual business. Oscar still wasn't good at copying down the patterns, but he felt like he was getting better. The smaller readings that he did with Ozpin he could copy down, but larger and more detailed just took him forever to do. But he kept practicing. Someday he'd be able to do it as swiftly and accurately as Ozpin. Lunch was usually brought up by the tavern on the first floor,
As things slowed in the afternoon, Oscar took some time to ask the questions he'd been listing on his slate, since between clients wasn't anywhere near long enough.
"Um, hello?"
Oscar looked up and stood. "Hello and welcome," he greeted, Ozpin saying the same from where he stood behind him.
"How can we help you today?"
A redhead stood at the door, pink blouse and white waistcoat above her black slacks. She looked around, eyes alight.
"A soothsayer! Yes!"
Oscar and Ozpin looked to each other.
"Um, yes?" Oscar said.
"Perfect!" The redhead said. "Hello, I'm Nora and I've been looking for a soothsayer ever since we came to Haven but it seems like no one believes in soothsayers here in the city and wow I hope you're more accurate than the one at the village, because we had to evacuate before I had the chance to have my reading done and I have a question!"
Oscar vaguely wondered if she ever took a breath.
Ozpin chuckled. "Well, we're glad you've found the right place. I'm Professor Ozpin Ozma. This is my apprentice, Oscar Pine."
"Ohh, that's a lot of o-sounds, is this a thing for soothsayers? Our village Soothsayer was someone named Ozair."
Oscar blinked. "Uh…"
The professor shook his head. "It's no naming conversion that I'm aware of," he said lightly. "Mr. Pine is the first apprentice I've ever had with a similar name to mine." He gestured to the seats in front of the desk. "Now, how may we help you?"
Nora smiled brightly, eagerly coming forward, energy bleeding from every movement. "Great! Down to business! See here's the thing, there's this guy-"
Oscar worked to not groan.
"-and we've been friends for sooooo long! We got here to Haven together, oh! Not together-together or anything, not that I'm saying he's not handsome! He is totally handsome! But I've always wondered, since we've always been together but not together-together if we'd ever actually end up together-together."
He took a moment to try and process all the words that had been thrown at them.
Ozpin, however, seemed to take it all in stride and gave a soft chuckle. "A love fortune?"
"Exactly!"
Oscar looked to Ozpin and saw a twinkle in his eye.
Oscar immediately put up his guard.
"It was brought to my attention today that I'm not very familiar with Mistralan courting rituals-"
Oh Brothers…
"-so, if it's alright with you," Ozpin said with his brightest smile, "would you like Mr. Pine to do the reading?"
Fye and filth!
"No problem at all!"
Oscar was doomed.
"A-are you certain, Professor?" Oscar stuttered. After having observed readings, he knew very well that he had trouble with larger and complicated patterns, and Oscar doubted anything would be more complicated than looking at someone's romantic future.
"Now, if you'll give my apprentice and I a chance to set the sand-reader?"
"No problem!"
In the side room, Oscar shut the door and let out an explosive breath. "Ozpin, really? Are you sure?"
Ozpin's smile was beaming. "Yes. Her question is simple enough for you to focus on. Let the sands build the rest. You won't say anything. I'll explain when the reader is done."
Somewhere between a gulp and a groan, Oscar sat by the reader, nervously clearing the already clear sands and praying to the Brothers he wouldn't mess this up.
"You'll be fine, Oscar. Just stay silent. I'll do the rest."
Ozpin went back to the main room to collect payment, and write out the receipt, then brought in Nora and sat her down by the reader.
"Oh, this is pretty! I've never seen something like this."
Oscar cleared his throat, and held out his hand.
"Now," Ozpin started, "holding hands helps with accuracy. One of your hands must be on the fulcrum. The other can be in Mr. Pine's hand, if you wish. Thank you. Now, focus on your question."
Oscar let out a sigh, opening his magic and just feeling. Behind him he could feel Ozpin's magic alert and working as well, but he ignored it to focus on the question. He looked to the reader as the pendulum started to move and swing, the starts of swirls and patterns emerging. A love fortune. Who did she love and was it requited? Another twist and flutter and Oscar started to see, his magic humming. Though she didn't say it outright, she loved the man she spoke of. He loved her as well. But there was more. The pendulum still swung and Oscar recognized the pattern of the war casting a shadow over everything. The love was young… incomplete. The two only knew how to be together, neither knew who they were alone. He never said anything, but there was a deep pressure to always do what was right, but he was scared of the consequences. His fear would hurt them. Split them apart. She would need to learn who she was, and it wouldn't be easy. As with everything in the war, it would be difficult, with sharp, painful lessons. Scars. But once they were ready… it would be beautiful. It was about getting through the hardship… All those hardships…
"That's enough, Oscar," Ozpin said softly in his ear.
"Oh…" Oscar closed his magic, looking at the first truly complicated pattern he'd ever been able to read.
That was… amazing!
"Wow!" Nora bubbled, pulling her hands away and gesticulating. "That was so strange! The thing at the end of the line moved on it's own, and look at the picture! It's so pretty! And both of you had glowing eyes! This was so fantastic! So what's my fortune?"
Ozpin gave a gentle laugh. "Fortune is never the right word for soothsaying. We merely guide and advise."
"I don't care, let's have it! I want to know!"
Oscar automatically opened his mouth to start explaining, because he'd made that pattern! But Ozpin gently put a hand on his shoulder.
Right. Not talking.
"You've loved this young man for a long time," Ozpin said, his voice a soft smile. "However, what you feel is still very young. What he feels, likewise, is very young. If the two of you understand your own selves first, if you take time to reflect on yourself, and he does the same, then when he is perhaps most awkward and uncertain, he will finally admit how he feels."
The young redhead immediately stood up and cheered. "This. Is. Happening!"
"But-"
Ozpin tapped his shoulder again.
Nora didn't seem to hear, cheering and giggling as she was. "Yes! I don't have to worry! We'll always be together!"
"Heed our words," Ozpin said heavily. "Both of you must reflect on yourselves for this to happen. And that is a choice. You must choose to look at yourself and know who you are. He must also look to himself. If one of you doesn't choose-"
"Oh that won't be a problem!" Nora cheered. "He's the strong silent type, so of course he's reflecting on himself. I know exactly who I am, and this is amazing! Thank you both so much!"
They walked out to the office, Nora still in her euphoria.
"I must remind you," Ozpin said firmly, "it is a choice. It is always a choice. Both for you and for him. You will remember these words, and then you must choose what to do."
Oscar looked to Ozpin, unused to hearing him like that, and watched as the color drained from his face.
"Professor?"
Ozpin sat behind the desk. He didn't get a chance to respond, because Nora came around and tackled him in a hug. "Oh! I can't thank you enough! Or you, cute little apprentice!"
"Wait, what-" then Oscar was tackled with a hug that was so incredibly strong, he wondered if his ribs were going to break. "Breathe! Need to breathe!"
"Thank you~!" Nora sang, skipping out the door. "I'm queen of the castle! I'm queen of the castle!"
"Well, she has a great deal of energy."
"Ozpin?" Oscar asked softly. "Are you okay?"
The professor was still pale, and took a deep breath. "A client like her, she wanted confirmation of her beliefs. Once she heard what she wanted, she started to shut out everything else." He rubbed at his face. "Tea, Oscar? Please?"
Oscar immediately pulled the kettle from the small stove to start pouring.
"For someone like her, advice needs to be reinforced. You noticed that I didn't say 'if'?"
"Yeah, when you got all serious out here." Oscar frowned. "Was that making?"
Ozpin shook his head. "No. I had opened my magic for a moment."
"Without a reader? No wonder you're so pale! I should run down and get you something to eat!"
"A moment," Ozpin held up his hand. "Instead of an overall view of romance, I asked my own question about her. She will have a paradigm shift. And she will remember this conversation, because it won't go the way she wants. You saw that, right?"
"The scars. The war. Yeah. You didn't mention any of that."
Ozpin looked over his dark spectacles.
"Yeah," Oscar nodded. "She wasn't really listening for anything outside what she wanted."
"Yes, well, when she remembers this conversation, what else did I say?"
"That she must choose- Oh. You're still letting her choose."
"Yes. I refuse to be a maker. Everything about saying is a person's choice. You notice she didn't even stay for a copy of the pattern?"
"So you gave her something more specific to remember."
Ozpin nodded. "A person of wealth can get books on soothsaying and try to read a pattern. They can get pieces. Most, however, look back on such a pattern and simply remember. For reasons only the Brothers can answer, most people remember what's said at a reading very clearly. It's why a sayer must be very careful with our words."
Oscar nodded. In this case, he could see why Ozpin didn't say everything in the sands. Nora wouldn't have heard it.
But still…. Why was that always the case? He still didn't understand.
Ozpin stood, then immediately sat back down.
"I'll get you some food," Oscar said.
"Thank you."
"Hello? I'm Marrow Armin, I had an appointment?"
"Ah, Mr. Armin, there you are." Ozpin heard his apprentice's voice from the main room, and he quickly finished transcribing what he remembered of one of his lost books, putting the papers away at his desk and standing. "The professor will see you now."
"Hello," Ozpin greeted as his last client of the day arrived. Tall with richly dark skin, the man gave a cheery wave before they took hands. Ozpin shuffled slightly to give Oscar time to sit. "This is Mr. Pine, my apprentice," he said, putting a hand on his son's shoulder. "If you consent, he will work the sand table in service to his training. Is that alright with you?"
"Sure," Armin said, studying the table with wide, green eyes. "I guess. Will it affect my reading?"
"Not at all," Ozpin answered with a genial smile. "Mr. Pine has just as much skill as I at working the sand table now, but he is not yet ready to read the patterns. That will fall to me."
"Then I don't mind," Armin said, sitting down. "I've never had a reading before," he said, "I'm not sure what to do."
"Put your hand on the fulcrum. If you wish, hold hands with Mr. Pine, it helps with accuracy."
"Heh, you gonna read my palm, too?" he asked.
"No," Oscar said, shifting in his seat. "At least, not the way you think."
Armin stared, blinking twice, before shrugging his shoulders and putting his hand on the fulcrum. "Now what?"
Ozpin opened his magic as Oscar did. "Now you ask your question."
He watched Armin frown, taking a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. "Ma thinks I'm doing something stupid, but I'm trying to do what's right. I guess I want to know… Am I supposed to enlist?"
The plum line started to move almost immediately, Armin gave a soft gasp to watch it move on it's own, and that's all Ozpin really registered as the magic started to build a pattern: loyalty, camaraderie, admiration, morals, so many orders, so many orders he followed, darker and darker, and then light: confrontation, confidence, inspiration, leadership. It was a complicated pattern, he would be curious to see if Oscar could read all of it, and how much he saw while he worked the reader.
When the reader finished, Ozpin refocused and saw Armin staring at the delicate loops and curves and swirls. "Wow," he murmured, moving his hand off the reader. "No way two hands on a fulcrum could make a design this intricate…"
Ozpin took in a breath. "The life of a soldier is a difficult life," he said, "Especially in times of war. You know that academically, but you will learn it spiritually and emotionally if you decide to pursue it. Your mother does not think what you are doing is stupid, even if those are the words she uses. She has always admired your moral fiber and your highly developed sense of right and wrong. Her disapproval comes from having lost family to wars before, the border dispute in Argus, the relief effort in Vale after its king was assassinated, and your own brother at Southpoint last year."
"Wait, my brother is dead?" Armin said, snapping up.
"The news will come to your mother in Atlas any day now," Ozpin said with a grave nod. "She is terrified of losing you. As for the military, if you do decide to enlist you will find lifelong friends, camaraderie. Your loyalty will be rewarded over and over, and it will be your loyalty that makes you do the right thing, even when no one else thinks it is. And if you make it that far, you will inspire others."
Mr. Armin stared, eyes wide, processing what he heard. "It… it sounds too good to be true," he said, as if trying to convince himself.
"You forget, Mr. Armin, that you would be choosing to live the life of a soldier. However you serve, you will have chosen a profession that kills people, that sacrifices their individuality to follow orders without question. One does not need a sand table to know there will be dark days in your future if you enlist: days when your loyalty and your morals will conflict, days when you wake uncertain if you are doing the right thing, days when you will look back and doubt the veracity of this very reading." He pushed up his spectacles. "But, as I said, if you make it to the point where you do the right thing, you will inspire others. Mr. Pine, the pattern."
"Right," Oscar said, sullen.
"It's… it's different than I thought it would be," Armin said as Oscar worked on the reading. "I kind of figured it would be a yes or no. But…" he turned, looking out the window, "If my brother is really dead…" He turned back. "If it's true, thanks," he said, "for getting word to me, I guess."
"Of course," Ozpin said, shifting his weight as Oscar stood to hand over the pattern. He saw Armin out the door, Ozpin opting to sit back down and make his own copy of the reading.
"Oz, you need to help me," Oscar said, coming back into the reading room. "It keeps happening: there was so much more to the reading than you actually said. His general is going to hold a pistol to him!"
"Yes," Ozpin said. "A paradigm shift, but not for him, for others around him."
"I saw that," Oscar said. "I can read it well enough, that's not it. I don't understand how you can just… not tell him his general is going to betray him. You can't just say something vague about doing the right thing and having morals. That doesn't tell him how he'll survive the encounter and make the paradigm shifts with everyone else."
"I can't," Ozpin replied, breathing through his nose. Oscar was not the only one frustrated with this repeated conversation. "That would be the work of a maker."
Oscar plopped into the client chair. "That's what I'm struggling with," he said, running his hand through his dark mop of hair. "You've talked about soothsaying and soothmaking, you say that one is guidance and the other is the removal of all choice, and it's not that I don't get it but I don't get it." He leaned back. "I don't see what I'm missing that's so important, that makes it so obvious to you but not to me. How… I don't… why can't… what am I missing?"
Ozpin looked at his apprentice, his son, saw his frustration, his trying to understand.
The old pain flared up, and he closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. "Very well," he said softly.
He turned to his desk, pulling out his keyring and unlocking the center drawer and pulled out two patterns, one well loved. Oscar watched, curious, as Ozpin traced his eyes over the first, letting himself remember it all. "Here," he said, reaching over the sand table, giving it to Oscar. "This is the first reading my master ever gave me."
Oscar's eyes doubled in size to hear the words, his hand turning gentle as he took the piece of paper, his skills making his gaze take it all in quickly. "This is the most intricate pattern I've ever seen," he said, frowning and leaning forward to see it all. "Did he do a reading of your entire life?"
"Yes," Ozpin said, closing his eyes and drifting. "I was eleven, dragged into the royal court to account for my shouting in the street that His Majesty's mother had died. After I explained what happened, what I saw, His Majesty asked for his reader, this very sand table," he traced one hand along the edge of the basin, "and asked if I had a question. 'What's to become of me?' is what I asked."
His mind drifted back to that day, high summer, in the cool expanse of the Judgement Hall, a place he later learned was for law cases that made their way up to the king's final decision. The floors were covered in rich green carpet, his feet sinking into the softness. He could still see the king's face, middle aged and stern, but with a softness about the eyes that took years to find. It took four men to bring out the sand table, it was so heavy.
"You sit in judgement before a king. Do you have a question?"
For all the anxiety, the fear, it was one of his best memories, because after that reading he knew, deep inside, that he would be looked after.
"You'll live into your eighties," Oscar said, picking out some of the details. "You'll be surrounded by people of influence - or is it money? I see inspiration, you will cause a lot of paradigm shifts - that makes sense, I guess, as a soothsayer. And… and… but wait. Where's the pattern for the war? And I don't see the symbol for moving, or the design for sickness." Oscar looked up. "Was the king not very skilled?"
"No, like us he had a deep well of magic," Ozpin said, gesturing. Oscar returned the paper, and Ozpin held it close, mourning, as he handed over the second. "Here is his final reading, when he gave me my license."
It was all jagged lines and sharp corners, hard angles and claws and teeth. Instead of taking up the entire page, it was a simple beast of a design in the center of the page. In the mask of its face, two miniature patterns: isolation and misery. Oscar had never seen the symbol, but he knew instantly that it wasn't natural, and he looked up to Ozpin in confused horror. "... what is it?" he asked.
"That," Ozpin answered, looking down at his first reading, "is a Grimm."
"... Grimm?"
"Yes," Ozpin said, thinking back to that day, seeing the curse on the sand table, not understanding what it meant. "That is the symbol of a soothmaker interfering with someone's life."
He watched as Oscar absorbed the information - bigger revelations like this took him time to assimilate. His son's eyes slowly doubled in size as the myriad of questions started to build up in him, as he began to understand the barest tip of what all this meant. Ozpin felt the weight of it as he leaned back in his chair, holding his first reading, the happier reading, to his chest. "I was eighteen," he said, emotion already filling his voice. "In Vale that was the age of adulthood. My master had a small ceremony: he, myself, my sister Salem, and one of the stewards to act as witness. He signed and stamped the license, told me there was nothing else he could teach me, and that I was free to do as I pleased. It is customary to have a final reading, master and apprentice, as a parting of ways. For all intents and purposes, I had grown up in the castle. I had no idea what to do with myself now that I was free of my tutelage. I asked what would become of me, much as I had asked when I first met His Majesty."
He could still picture it, the green and gold tapestries of Vale, the intricate carving of the table the reader sat on, the light streaming through the high windows and its glow on the hanging glass sculptures: ribbons of color echoing off the hall. It was to be the brightest day of his life, the start of his journey as a soothsayer, the pride of his master as he smiled. Ozpin took a sudden, deep breath against the emotion.
"I remember he smiled," he said, voice shaky. "My master didn't smile much, he was grave when dealing with his people, but in private he could give these soft, gentle smirks. He told me he'd heard that question before. I was so happy that day and then… The air was sucked out of the room when the Grimm appeared."
"What…" Oscar paused, looking down at the dark pattern. "What does it mean?"
"Exactly what I said," Ozpin replied, tilting his head and looking up at the ceiling, gaze glassy. He could picture the look of shock on his master, the curiosity of his sister before she was summarily dismissed by the king. The bitter explanation - and like Oscar, the slow dawning horror. "A soothmaker interfered with my pattern. The path I was on, the choices I would make, the things I would do, were wiped away when the maker did their reading. And the price was paid in my master's life; he was assassinated three days later."
"I don't… price?" Oscar asked.
Ozpin nodded. Unable to look at his son, he kept his eyes on the ceiling, even as trails of moisture spilled out. The memories were unlocking one after the next: over all of it the unquenchable dread, trying to make sense of how such a bright future could be shut down with just one reading. And then… three days later… He closed his eyes. Too much emotion, focus on your son. "Soothmakers… No, let me start over. The patterns we read; they are a gift of the Brothers, an articulation of the larger pattern of Remnant. Even the most powerful soothsayers can only read one person at a time, but the pattern itself is created by the Brothers of Light and Dark. To interfere with someone's pattern is to interfere with the gods themselves, and such an interference ripples out, and extracts a heavy price from the world. Do you know the old fairy tale of the Broken Moon?"
He heard Oscar shift in his seat. "That the Brothers were angry and left Remnant, their departure breaking the moon."
Ozpin nodded, still holding his first reading. "Soothsayers believe it was the price of the first soothmaking."
"I… what?"
"I researched Grimm at university," Ozpin said, looking down from the ceiling and instead putting his eyes to the sand table, tracing a finger along the basin again. He couldn't look at his son, couldn't bear to see his face as he explained all of this, how ruined his life was. "I wanted to know why someone would… there are documents from old soothsayers, one here in Mistral, and two in Atlas: apprentices who did not heed their masters, who said too much in their readings, and made instead of said. The most recent one was six hundred years ago, granted, but the reading that explained this was decently preserved. The soothmaker tried to force a good harvest when a bad one was predicted. Instead of guiding the farmers to the right places, they told them outright where to plant. Instead of preparing them for a dry season, they told them the rain would come. Instead of holding back, they said outright when the village chief was going to die, and how, and why. By the end of the summer a storm so great as to create a funnel of wind as wide as this borough was created, leveling five villages and destroying the crops and killing everyone there.
"It was discovered a year later by a ship looking for a port. They had a soothsayer on board and they were able to read what had happened. The pattern said it was the result of the soothmaker."
Silence hung in the room, heavy and dark. Ozpin knew Oscar needed time to absorb this, grasp the enormity of it all. Ozpin himself had been in disbelief at the time: he had never seen a Grimm before, had watched his master stare in horror at the symbol before explaining what it meant. Even now, Ozpin had no idea why a maker would want to interfere with his life: his first reading showed a full life, turning the very arc of the world to something clean and bright, surrounded by friends and confidants, happily teaching for his entire life. It was a life he had never lived: the king had died, his studies at Beacon burned to the ground, his sister dead, no real friends… His life was nothing like the reading his master had first given him, and every time he tried to reach for that life…
It was stolen from him before he had even started to live it. All of his chances to choose, all his chances to make Remnant a better place - his deepest wish - all of it taken away and replaced with the symbols in the mask of the Grimm: isolation and misery. First the king's assassination, and then so much more. He did not live a life, he lived a curse, and the impotence of it all made it even worse.
"Why… why would someone do that to you?"
Ozpin looked up, two tears of broken regret leaking down his face, and he saw Oscar, too, had shed a tear.
"... I don't know," Ozpin admitted. He leaned back and removed his tinted glasses, pulling at a sleeve to clean his eyes. "We must never be makers, Oscar," he said. "The cost is too great. Sayers have to tell truths, but only the truth that the client needs to hear. To do more…"
"Does…" Oscar looked down, also wiping his face. "Does your pattern still have that? That Grimm?"
Ozpin almost wished his son hadn't asked that, but he took a deep breath to answer. "Yes," he said softly, not quite looking at his son. "I've tried, over the years, to move past the curse. I tried to study at Beacon, but there the chieftains tried to use me, and the fire killed my sister. I tried to teach here at Haven, but then I would lose an apprentice, and then the war… and then the backbreaker… I'm still making choices," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Null and void as they are, I'm still trying. I'm trying to make the best of a cursed life, I choose to do things that make me happy, to break free of the misery and isolation, but then…"
His choices were bereft of him, he had come to terms with that bitterly when he left Vale, but still… That did not mean he was without choice, just that his choices were different now. He tried to live by that - Brothers know he tried to still live the life of that first pattern: teaching, soothsaying, making Remnant a better place. But the curse would reassert itself, the Grimm undoing his work over and over. He was so alone, no one had such a curse over their lives, and he never met or trained a sayer who understood the weight of seeing a Grimm.
He looked up, caught his son's gaze again. "I don't want to be lonely," he admitted. "I thought adopting a child would help with that, and Oscar, you've been the greatest gift of my life. But when I learned you had the gift I feared…" He looked away, unable to say it out loud.
"Do I have it, too, then?" Oscar asked. "This… this Grimm?"
"No," Ozpin said, reaching out and taking the reading. "And I pray, every day, that the maker who is so intent on me never finds you."
He wouldn't survive losing Oscar.
Author's Notes: A lot to say here. Winter and Weiss show up, Winter in particular will play a bigger part later but we're nowhere near that yet, so we'll hold off. We also get cameos from Nora and Marrow, who also won't show up for a while, but slowly we're bringing in the supporting cast of the fic. The readings themselves with Weiss etc are pokes at the show, but also foreshadowing for what's to come with them.
More than anything else though, this chapter clearly delineates what Oz and Oscar do as soothsayers and what the mysterious soothmaker does by contrast. Also we get one major crunchy cookie of backstory for Oz. Poor guy, we never seem to give him happy lives when a fic starts. Imagine living knowing your choices don't matter, that your life is cursed? Ugh, we weren't nice to him here, and we haven't gone into the details yet.
Next chapter: A new resident comes to Nana Calavera's building. Also, haven't seen Qrow in a while... Maybe we should have a whole chapter with him in it :)